#sly of the brooch

[thewizardsarcasm]

My new favorite NPC and my new favorite saying when someone inconveniences me lol

[darkjimxn]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[beansprean]

Some of my fav enablers @vampireshmampire and @phasmama and pejnt and Lu been talking about a Hercules au...

(ID in alt and under cut)

1. Full body of Jan as Hades in a long black dress with puffed sleeves and a long slit up the side over a darker black bodysuit with cutouts up the legs. She is wearing high top high heel sneakers and her hair is a blaze of blue fire. She sits on a throne made of bones, all the skulls of which are missing their incisors, and grins at the viewer with rows of sharp teeth. Behind her, the souls of the damned are wailing. She says, "Nandy, Nandy, Nandy... What do we do here in the Underworld?"

2. Reverse shot of Nandor as Meg, hair half up in a looping bun and wearing a short purple peplos clasped over both shoulders with brass brooches. He twiddles his fingers together and looks up at her nervously, responding, "We sweat?" Offscreen, Jan answers, "That's right!"

3. Wide profile shot as Jan gets up from her throne to stand in front of Nandor. One hand on her hip and the other pointing vaguely left, she says, "So go out there and work up a sweat to get that sweet little Van Helsing over here! And who knows - you may just earn back your humanity." Her grin is wide and confident, but her eyes are hard. Nandor perks up with a small smile at the mention of a reward.

4a. Knees up of Guillermo as Hercules, dressed in a short leather chiton and blue cape, hair styled in a little side swoop. He is grinning excitedly, holding up both fists as he says, awed, “I’m gonna be a vampire…” Nadja and Laszlo, dressed in pale red and pale green respectively, lean out from behind him. Nadja folds her hands on top of her husband’s head and rests her chin there with a sly grin, replying, “Yess, absolutely.” Laszlo wears a matching expression, posing his hands innocently under his chin. He adds, “You just have to do a few…” Nadja pipes up, “Quests!” Laszlo continues, “Yes, a few heroic quests for us, first!” 4b. In the background, Guillermo has his back to the viewer and is chopping madly at a vaguely yonic hedge with his xiphos sword, letting out a “ha!” of effort with each swing. In the foreground, Nadja and Laszlo are lounging and sipping from cups of blood. Laszlo calls over sternly, “No cutting corners, boy! I want a perfect likeness!” Nadja sits back lazily with her knees up and spread to provide a reference. /end ID

[fuokir]

Aena Florence Cowell - Profile

◊ Basic Information ◊

▹ Gender: Female ▹ Date of birth:  19th of February ▹ MBTI: Defender ISFJ-A ▹ Nationality: British | Welsh ▹ Blood status: Pure-blood ▹ Wand: English Oak Wood | Unicorn Core | 14 ½" Length | Slightly Springy flexibility ▹ Nickname: - ▹ House: Slytherin ▹ Patronus: Red Squirrel ▹ Boggart: Dragon/Fire ▹ Amortentia: Juniper, menthol, lime ▹ Animagus: -

◊ Appearance ◊

Aena is slightly above average height. She has long blond hair, to be honest it's hard to say what color, her hair was once very burned out in the sun, I would call it a pearl blond, with a warm undertone. Violet eyes, in her favorite sly squint. A long, straight nose, it is very easy for them to get into other people's business. Freckled skin and two facial scars.

▹ Clothing style: Ready to dress up in anything, the main thing is that it be washed and ironed. She loves trendy blouses and comfortable shoes, otherwise she just wants to look neat. ▹ Accessories: Silver earrings. A brooch with which she secures a bow on her collar. ▹ Other distinguishing features: Two scars. First received before Hogwarts, her younger sister hit her with a candlestick in a fit of rage. This scar cuts through her upper lip. The second one was obtained approximately between 4-6 class step (I still haven't decided) in a fight with Aisha. This scar is located across the bridge of the nose.

◊ Personality ◊

Aena is a person who values connections very much, and, first of all, values her own comfort. She can come across as rude due to her bluntness, although she usually tries to choose her words. For close people, Aena is the figure of an older sister, patronizing and ready to help with deed or advice. She is still clueless in conversation, but it has its own charm. If you come to her in a bad mood or in tears, she will definitely coo around you and if words do not help, then be sure that you will be taken to have fun in Hogsmeade, even if Professor Weasley did not give permission to visit the village. Due to her rather reserved nature, it is very difficult to catch her own resentment or bad mood. As a rule, she suppresses bad emotions if the pressure on her is very strong. Cowell is inclined to break loose on someone, but more often than something (Ferdinand Octavius Pratt will never forgive her for his torn portrait that once hung in the Trophy Hall). Otherwise, she learned to live such moments in herself, not wanting to impose her problems.

▹ Traits: Self-confident, imposing, diligent, cunning, communicable. ▹ Likes: Feeling of winning, gift gifts to friends and family (she is one of those people who will see a wild flower, remember you and pick it to give), To speak caustically. ▹ Dislikes: Gobstones, hates all kinds of sweets and candies (childhood trauma). ▹ Good at: Chess, persuasion, remember things quickly. ▹ Bad at: Flying on a broom (she gets motion sick), to be tact. ▹ Hobbies: Board games, Herbarium, calligraphy. ▹ Fears: Fire, fatal disease. ▹ Ambition: Become an influential person in the magical world.

◊ Family ◊

▹Father: Ambrose Thomas Cowell ▹Mother: Lavinia Marjorie Cowell (nee Brown) ▹Sibling: Aeva Francis Cowell (little sister) | Darcia Arthur Cowell (little brother) ▹ Paternal grandparents: Bertram Caspar Cowell and Marjorie Rose Cowell ▹Maternal grandparents: They do not communicate for one reason or another / Aena does not know them, as much.. ▹ Other noteworthy relatives: Angus Beresford Cowell (uncle), Anna Rayne Brown (aunt), Victor Brown (cousin), Cain Beresford Brown (cousin, illegitimate son of Anna and Angus).

▹ Pet: Couple Mooncalfs and Jobberknoll ▹ Family home: Cardiff ▹ Blood Status: Pure-Blood ▹ Social standing: Middle class family, i guess... Aristocracy? ▹ Family background: The relationship between the Browns and the Cowells became very tense after the announcement of the engagement between Lavinia and Ambrose. Both Aena's parents were strong-willed and strong-willed, and although the families did not want this union, in fear that the newlyweds would quickly fall out of love with each other when they were drawn into the routine, this did not happen. The birth of Aena, the first-born, was not accepted by applause, the parents were still very young, just about to graduate from Hogwarts. it was also that Anna, Lavinia's cousin, and Angus, Ambrose's brother, were not careful and their families found out about their union. And although the Cowells, as a fairly young purebred family, were not well known, everyone whispered about the Browns. This angered the Browns and almost all ties between the families were cut off. This did not prevent the girl from growing up in love and care, even in some kind of permissiveness. Aena was a mischievous child. In particular, she adopted the confidence of her father, and inherited from her mother an unshakable determination. Of course her uncle Angus, who frequents them (living for a while with his brother and his family), also contributed. He was cunning, playful, witty and an excellent gambler. During the early years of Ambrose and Lavinia's marriage, he often stayed to babysit his niece while his brother and his wife worked at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It would be nonsense if, in the end, Aena did not learn to play almost as well as her uncle. Over time, her sister was born, and now not only Angus was the nanny, but Aena herself, because her sister turned out to be a completely restless child.

The Cowell family can be safely called an example of a healthy family, where everyone listens and hears each other. Where conflicts are not hushed up, but resolved. In their house there is always an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Family members value each other, they will never refuse to help friends and relatives. Her parents still work in a bank. Grandfather was an Auror, and her grandmother worked as a curse breaker. Her uncle Angus does not work anywhere, but thanks to his skill as a card sharper, he squanders money in all directions.

◊ Relationships ◊

It is difficult to write down with whom Alena is friends to one degree or another, since she tends to call a friend a person with whom she communicated a couple of times both of them at school. Anyway, she was the most frequent communication with Amit Thakkar, Aisha Werdy(oc), Grace Pinch-Smedley and Imelda Reyes. With the advent of the New Fifth Year, Aena's friend list has become noticeably larger! Since the fifth year, a new student has appeared in Cowell's inner circle (I would like to use a specific character, but I love many MCs so much … this is a difficult choice for me, in general, your character could be here !!!). Through the new fifth year, Aena became closer to Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt. This was an interesting experience for Aena, who was very prejudiced against Gaunt due to rumors and stories from her parents. Although her parents did not want to appear biased, because they had also been the subject of all sorts of dirty rumors before, they were very afraid of ties with the Gaunts. Interestingly, thanks to MC, Cowell stopped communicating with Cressida Blume. One day, Aena managed to overhear a conversation between a newcomer and Ominis in the Hogwarts library, where the MC told in detail what he had read in a Gryffindor girl's diary. She also had a quarrel with Imelda for a while, Reyes was tirelessly talking dirty about the new one and Aena was so tired of it that she asked Imelda not to talk to her until it was all over.

Any more serious and romantic feelings were alien to Aena for a long time. Probably the culprit was gambling, through which she received joy and adrenaline. When she was strictly banned from playing within the walls of the school for as much as 2 years, for Cowell it was a global catastrophe. She was still holding small sessions of games in Hogsmeade, Aena could not find a place for herself and did not know what to do. She struggled with background anxiety for a long time, at some point losing any interest in games. Ominis became her distraction. They bumped into each other on the way to Hogsmeade, talking. Gaunt had another problem with his parents (and more problems with Sebastian), Aena had complete emptiness and disappointment in herself as a person (she was really ashamed of her actions). The Slytherins entered into a playful agreement, Aena helped the boy create the appearance of the life that the Gaunts wanted for him (minimal, but this, as it turned out, was enough), and in return Ominis was supposed to simply brighten up Aena's especially lonely days. And so, with slow steps, they became closer and closer to each other.

◊ little things ◊

Heather Mason - Silent Hill 3

Dana Scully - X-Files

Morrigan - Dragon age:Origins

Suki - ATLA

Princess Leia Organa - Star Wars

Rhaenys Targaryen - House of the Dragon

[felassan]

Now in the BioWare Gear Store: Fen'Harel Cloak and Brooch bundle

Description:

THE PRIDE OF THE ELVEN PANTHEON!

Fen Harel, also known as the "Dread Wolf," is a mysterious and cunning character from the popular Dragon Age series. Known for his intelligence and ability to manipulate situations to his advantage, Fen Harel is a force to be reckoned with. And now, you can channel a bit of his sly demeanor with this Fen Harel cloak. (Shawl can be worn as a scarf or hung on the wall as a tapestry utilizing the rod and rope.) Treasures from Fen'Harel's trove His most prized possessions can now be yours. And on that journey from here to the fade and back, let these treasures comfort you and empower your every move. The set includes a cloak, brooch, and rod. [source and item link]

You can get 20% off in the BioWare Gear Store until January 31st using my latest discount code BWHARDING. After that date check back here for a new code. alternatively, you can use my >affiliate link<.

UPDATE: The above discount code expired early due to use. The new 20% off discount code is BWLACE. This code will be valid until February 1st. After that date check back here for a new code. alternatively, you can use my >affiliate link<.

UPDATE 2: The new code also expired early due to use (!). The latest 20% off discount code is BWSCOUT. This code will be valid until February 2nd, or until it also expires due to use. After that date, or if you try to use it and find it isn't working, check back here or on this post for the newest code, or alternatively drop me a DM. alternatively, you can use my >affiliate link<.

UPDATE 3: The new discount code also expired early due to use (!). The latest 20% off discount code is BWANTOINE. This code will be valid until February 4th, or until it also expires due to use. After that date, or if you try to use it and find it isn't working, check back here or on this post for the newest code, or alternatively drop me a DM. alternatively, you can use my >affiliate link<.

✧d(•̀ v•̀ )~~♪

[flame-shadow]

What if Oro did embroidery? I think it would suit him. It's a quiet, meticulous, repetitive task, and it can nicely enhance articles of clothing. And since his hut is the fanciest one of the three, I think having little details and extra textures on his clothes would make him happy.

Mostly I bring this up because a common way to illustrate Oro post-game is with his delicate flower. Which is nice and helps distinguish him from Mato and all that, but!! It's really fuckin delicate!! I don't think he'd take it out of his hut, much less wear it around Hallownest.

Which brings me back to embroidery. Maybe he'd add a delicate flower pattern to the chest and hems of his cloak. Maybe this is a skill he picked up during the kingdom's stasis, and when he meets up with his family again with his new drip, they're all impressed and surprised but not too surprised. (Sheo teases him about there being another artist in the family)

And maybe he does something for Mato, makes a patch or steals a cloak to embroider nails and skulls into. A step towards healing their relationship.

And Sly asks him when he's gonna start monetizing his work gyhvmzmg

I'm sleepy and this is self indulgent but that's okay. Nailfam makes me happy.

(For the record, another idea I had to replace the actual delicate flower with something more durable is to wear a brooch)

[opheliaswritings]

Love For Yashiro Nene ⍣ ೋ

A Yashiro Nene in-depth analysis;

1/6

→

Introduction:

When it comes to all romance and scary urban legends, you can always trust Yashiro Nene to give you a passionate rant and a cry about them both. This little mermaid is the protagonist of Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun! Also definitely a regular girl! Here I’ll be going on a deep-dive on her, down to the surface level to the deep waters. From everything and anything I can think of her, it will be covered as that’s what Yashiro deserves. 

Personality:

Yashiro Nene is the one of the normal people out when it comes to the world of Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun. She comes from a relatively normal family, had a regular childhood, and overall your run in the mill high school girl. She has a love for the occult and supernatural stories, as well as idol games! Her enjoyment of urban legends is reminiscent or shown through her uniform as she was a skull brooch. She also think they are pretty cute. Yashiro also has a knack of referencing fairytale stories like Cinderella or Snow White whenever she can.

What sets her apart however, is her love for romance. Her love for the wonder that is romance is less than normal. Yashiro is very quick to fall for any man who’s even remotely like the princes from fairy tales. And quickly does she fall, as she started gardening, sewing, etc, all to appease a man who she hardly talked to. The plot of TBHK even started because she wanted to be in a relationship with Minamoto Teru, somebody who also doesn’t know her. With her extended knowledge of scary stories, it led her to the story of Hanako, who can grant any wish. And like the little mermaid, she took the chance without any hesitation.

Yashiro’s fixation of love led her to a multitude of problems, including her becoming the priestess of Hanako, becoming a “mermaid”, etc. As well as her overall recklessness and impatience. However Yashiro is a very kind and sweet individual. After a few chapters with Hanako, she already dubbed him fun to hang out with, so he’s already her friend! She’s always willing to help others and to trust, to the point of nativity. She is a woman who believes in trust over suspicion, she once said. Along with her nativity, she can be quite sensitive, to be hurt from sly comments or overzealous at compliments. She is also very quick to forgive and forget. However, Yashiro is a good person who later learns throughout the story to be more careful. Even her fixation on love dies down, but she still gets into bad situations due to that same recklessness she still has in the beginning.

She is not swayed by love as much in the story, but it still begs the question. Why did she do all this for the sake of love? Of having her prince of her own? To do tasks as rigorous as gardening, sewing, and kiss a frog once. Yashiro even got herself cursed, potentially for life. It’s not *true* love as spoken by Hanako, she will settle for anyone who would reciprocate her feelings. So why? All for herself. I believe that to her, romance was just as important to eat, or breathe. Yashiro didn’t want a romantic partner. She just believed it was a necessity for her to have a romantic partner as that was the only way for her to live her life. Many young girls such as Yashiro fall for the ideology that romance is the key to life, that you must have it to enjoy life to the fullest.

Yashiro calls out this ideology in both Yako and Sumire. As Sumire *longed* for Hakubo, No.6, though it was because of her own loneliness that she longed for a companion, and the only one she could trust was him. It’s the same for Yako as well. All of them really just wanted a partner who could ease their loneliness and/or give fulfillment to their life.

Unlike Sumire and Yako however, she managed to recognize and overcome that part of herself. As I have started before, in the coming pages Yashiro she focuses on romance less. The manga starts to turn for the worst during the coming events, especially when we learn of Yashiro’s demise. She will die in less than a year. She won’t be able to graduate, play games, hear any more scary urban legends, hang out with friends, none of that. 

As a result, Hanako tries to keep her in a picture perfect world, so that she can at least live her life in peace, but Yashiro rejects it. Instead of succumbing to fear of dying, she manages to stomp through it. She exclaims how she wants to face what was real, not a phony bliss Hanako tried putting up for her. Yashiro’s goal in life went from finding a romantic partner to just living her life to the fullest, to the ripe age of 100. To experience the good, and bad, everything. Even when she had lost Hanako and Aoi, two people she holds very dearly, she triumphs that too. She puts on a brave face and gives it her all.

It’s utterly remarkable how she manages to withstand all this, especially when any ordinary person like her would have broken down. It’s easy to forget how out of the loop Yashiro is from this. A year prior to this, she had no idea that the stories she loved so much were that real. 

Yashiro puts on a brave face and perseveres. We can give credit where credit is due. She is trying her best and persisting, yet it doesn’t make her invincible. She has her moments in which she just can not take it. In chapter 96, does she really break down telling Hanako she would gladly die to save Aoi and the others. Yashiro greatly values her friends, so it’s no surprise that she’ll be willing to sacrifice herself for them, as she really does have a pure heart. There’s also another factor, more specifically for Hanako, how she doesn’t take death all so seriously, and wants to be supernatural if it means that she’ll be with Hanako. Over the chapters, she has started to cultivate a multitude of issues due to the situations that Hanako is putting her through. It’s upsetting and disturbing to see a once bright girl turn so bleak. Her changing of goals is a mark of her growing up, but it’s because she *has* to grow up fast in order to even keep up with the events. We have seen her breakdown multiple times, even right now she can’t catch a break with what’s happening to Kou, her best friend. Yashiro Nene at first got to be sensitive and kind, but now with all that’s occurring she will have to be strong.

→

[suiana]

The brooch sparkled too much, too beautifully. For a moment it even looked like it was going to burn my eyes. Precious stones of this quality were clearly worth millions, no, billions of dollars. And this guy in front of you didn't have to pay a cent. You could see it in his smug smile and his tricky, one might even say sly eyes. Or could it be that your mind was talking about it, knowing that you were facing the most elusive criminal who was lucky enough to be partnered with you?

And a couple of years earlier, you never thought you'd ever be a teammate. Seriously, if someone had said that to you in the past, you would have just laughed until your stomach hurt. Maybe even more and You'd have had to send yourself to the hospital. And they will send you straight to jail. After all, even then you were, and don't be modest, the most dexterous and powerful criminal on the continent. The only problem was the slightly ill-conceived actions, the slightly unfinished plans, and always some small detail that could take away your aim. You needed a partner. And here he is. Shining.

"Oh, you don't like the brooch? I knew I shouldn't have let that jeweler live. Eh, there are mistakes," said partner with bitterness in his soul, making a sad grimace, at the same time putting the gift back. You're careful..... Although who am I kidding, you abruptly, like an animal, snatch such a precious jeweled work that the guy himself even recoiled in surprise. "Are you kidding me like this? It'll probably cost so much that I'll be feasting on my own island for the rest of my life. Give it back quick, before you wring your neck." The threat of reprisal quickly brought his partner's mood back. He was now as calm as ever: calm as if he were used to seeing aggression on your face. Elegantly sitting in the chair beside you, the local genius put one arm around you, trying to make as much physical contact as possible. "I'll always give you anything you want. Just... Stay with me, okay, sweetheart?"

Of course you'll stay. As long as there's benefits, there's business. You never had romantic feelings for him, but I don't think he needed them. The fact of having you around is a good thing, isn't it?

"Then you'd better bring something better next time, my dear partner~"

THIS IS SO GOOD ILY?? U SHOULD DEF ATART A WRITING BLOG TOO

sorry I didn't respond it got buried under some other asks oops aha

[joz-yyh]

Quickdraw - A Rust Sidestory

SUMMARY: Reynauld drags Dismas out for some quality time and smutty hijinks ensure. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: EXPLICIT (for sexual themes)

PAIRING: Reymas (Crusader x Highwayman -> established relationship)

WORD COUNT: 2,587

A/N: Takes place in the same universe/timeline as my fanfic, “Rust.” I've been tossing around the idea of adding brief intermission-type scenes in order to explore some of the other ships/characters while Damian and Tardif are off doing their own thing. First up, is Reynauld and Dismas. I hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

"Hmm," Reynauld mutters, gauntlet-clad fingers curled under his helmet in reserved contemplation.

His blue eyes survey the capricious wares of the nomad wagon, gold and silver chains strung up in a row, display boxes of brooches and other acquired oddities arranged beneath.

Presented with such antiquities, Reynauld by no means claims to be as knowledgeable as Josephine, but over time, he's picked up a few tricks of the trade, appraising each of the pieces laid out before him, weighing their rarity and purpose.

"Just pick something already," comes Dismas' insurgent groan, his words swiftly accompanied by an impatient upheaval of his arms into the otherwise peaceful air. 

You'd think the knight was downright torturing him, but then again, the highwayman was especially weak to boredom.

"Perhaps, I'll check back another time," the knight says, addressing the demure fortune teller running the shop. 

"Seriously," Dismas asks, his arms an inverse of the gesture he made before, incensed fingers spread open in a hollow fist by his knees. 

The swordsman unfurls from the wagon window, having been bent into an investigative hunch whilst he perused the counter.

He raises a speculative eyebrow at his companion, the look of Dismas' dark eyes telling him that he was being an insufferable pain.

"You drag me all the way out here just to spend all that time window shopping and now you're not even goin' to buy anything," Dismas surges, the vein in his forehead giving a poignant twitch of anger.

The Romani woman smirks, resting her chin on the splay of her ringed fingers as she watches the lovers bicker like an old married couple. This is by far the most entertaining thing she's seen all day. 

The knight nods to himself, having made up his mind, "Yes, I really do think it's best that I wait."

In an expression of his inner turmoil, Dismas tilts his head back and heaves out a long, throaty groan.

Reynauld ignores him, bidding adieu to the raven-haired shopkeeper, their business concluded.

She winks at him in return, blowing a kiss and wagging her long nails, "Don't keep me waiting too long, handsome."

Dismas shoves his hands into his pockets as they set off towards the barracks, shoulders tense with aggravation, the fur on his jacket coming up to cover his wind-blown ears.

"Still can't believe you made me wait all that time just so you could–" Dismas cuts himself off, recognizing the glimmer of treasure.

"Oh, you sly dog," the highwayman whistles, regarding his partner with astonished pride, pulling down his neckerchief to showcase the shit-eating grin plastered across his scarred face, "You didn't! 

"I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about," Reynauld says, the fluctuation of his tone much too fake and effervescent to be considered innocent. 

"C'mon," Dismas chuckles, nudging his elbow into the knight's arm and wagging his eyebrows suggestively,"Confess."

"The item had already been discarded when I discovered it," Reynauld says, explaining the appearance of the inconspicuous trinket.

Dismas can spot bullshit from a mile away. Takes a thief to know a thief.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say sticky fingers," Dismas jives, giving the crusader a smug look, the pronounced scars on his face seeming to extend his smirk even more. 

Reynauld risks a glance, taking in the gold fillings that alight the man's smile, making it more dazzling than it already is, just one of many endearing traits hidden behind the mask of his red scarf.

"It's value would be better served to fund the church," is the knight's assertion, the gravelly baritone indicating that he was becoming annoyed with his partner's games.

Dismas expects as much. Reynauld was running on a short fuse whenever his credibility was called into question.

"Oh, speaking of church, you went on a mission with that new guy, right? The one that flogs himself half to death. How was he? You two hit it off," the thief asks.

The knight turns to the highwayman, burning with jealousy, the emotion tangible behind the slots in his helmet "Why the sudden interest in him?" 

Dismas snickers to himself, facing forward now to avoid the fire in his partner's eyes, "Oh, I don't know, maybe because he's the new thing in town and the folks here don't have enough to gossip about. Figured you might have the inside scoop on him."

Rey deadpans, growing more frustrated with each passing minute, "Day by day, we stake our lives against corruption and yet you say there's nothing more pressing to talk about other than a stark raving lunatic?"

"Yes," Dismas replies with a shaky uncertainty, posing the word as a question.

Reynauld makes a caustic sound of disgust,"I thought it was surely a joke when I heard the Order accepted the aid of such extremists. It's disgraceful. Unorthodox."

Dismas' eyes widen, caught off guard by his friend's uncanny ferocity, especially when it came to a fellow believer of the Light. 

"So… you're not a fan then," the highwayman concludes.

Reynauld barks out a laugh.

"Hardly," he jests, voice aimed skyward, the exemplative sounding much louder when he realizes that his motley companion is not laughing along with him.

"Is it not the same for you," the knight asks, fixing his partner with a perplexed look of surprise, his criticism hanging heavy in the space between them.

"Well," the squirrely man drawls, shrugging his shoulders, "I haven't really met the guy  and I am not one to judge. Wouldn't want to make assumptions. Haha, that holy book you keep trying to drill in my brain must finally be rubbing off on me."

Reynauld stops dead in his tracks, but Dismas doesn't catch on until a few paces later, reciprocating the action once he learns that he's left the other behind.

A possessive kind of stare is brewing behind the darkness of the swordsman's helmet, one that worries the highwayman into thinking that this light-hearted teasing of his has gone a bit too far, crossing some invisible line in the sand.

Dismas returns to the balking crusader's side, ducking around him playfully to show he meant no harm.

"Don't worry, big guy, you're the only churchboy I am after," the thief reassures him, putting on a lopsided smile, giving the knight a light jab against his pauldrons.

Rey doesn't budge, not even a twitch of good humor, a prosecution of sins unrectified. With an aura of predatory malaise, the knight advances on him, gripping a fistful of his jacket, enough that the gunman can hear the threads squeak from the strain.

The red-nosed bandit is lifted, boots nearly gliding off the ground as he's dragged along by the collar. 

"H-hey! Rey," Dismas tries nervously, breaking out into a cold sweat, "barracks are t-that way."

"I know where the barracks are," the knight declares, leading the smaller man towards the stone bridge with determined, self-righteous steps, "We're taking a detour." 

Dismas feels a knot twist his stomach, not daring to resist as he's led past the gray cinderblocks of the abutment and down through the small ditch of grass.

There might have been a thriving river here at one point, but like most things in this backwater town, it's long since dried up.

Safely hidden beneath the arch of the voussoir overpass, the swordsman finally releases him, shoving him towards a collection of old supply crates growing musty from the elements.

The highwayman reaches out to stop himself from collapsing into the mud, gloved hands hugging onto either side of the wooden box. 

Despite Reynauld taking him by the scruff and distributing him here, Dismas finds that he's the one panting from exertion, pinpricks of warmth crawling up his neck, his cheeks burning red.

Pinching his eyes shut, he collects himself with a few deep breaths, flipping himself around to confront the overzealous crusader.

The knight is already standing so close, knee to knee with their bodies almost touching and Dismas shrinks more firmly against the sharp angle of wood at his back.

"What exactly is going on inside that big head of yours," the highwayman teases, a heavy blush upon his face, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're looking a bit jealous crusader."

He knows it's the wrong thing to say the moment that the words leave his mouth, but he wasn’t thinking with his mind anymore.

"The Light demands recompense. I'll be taking it from you," Reynauld decrees, hands tugging at the belt that secures his surcoat into place. 

Dismas' telltale heat intensifies, his body well-versed in the heady string of events, his cock swelling inside the confines of his trousers.

The knight pushes his partner down, the smaller man's back completely molded to the square block of wood, the boards giving a disruptive creak from the added pressure.

Dismas doesn't protest when a gloved fist pries at the belts on his vest, spreads it open none too kindly, his shirt following the same fate, the fabric pulled from his trousers and pushed under his chin. 

The outlaw shivers as the cool night air penetrates his feverish skin, his intentions fraying and exposed, groaning with anticipation. 

The visor on Reynauld's helmet is raised, dark brown locks of hair hanging above crystalline eyes, the man's beard grazing over wiry muscle as he leans down to suckle an overt nipple.

Dismas gives a hearty tremble then a hiss, Rey’s teeth and tongue working the nub into an unbearable hardness while the other is fondled mercilessly with his thumb.

"Mmrmph, Rey," gunman begs breathlessly, head tilted back, eyes closed as he concentrates on the sensation.

"Careful Dismas, you're beginning to echo," the taller man teases, his words both a warning and a command as he reaches for the highwayman's belt and all of it goes straight to the ex-con’s groin.

There's a clatter of something or someone coming from the pier above, jostling them both out of their blissful ministrations.

Rey puts a gloved hand over his lover's mouth, not trusting him to stay quiet even under these circumstances.

Their uninvited guest is none other than the town crier, sloshing about with a bottle of booze, singing off key as he stumbles along the railway. Strange how they hadn’t heard his approach before, but they listen tentatively now, the trickle of something being spilled off the side of the bridge.

Reynauld meets Dismas yearning gaze, pressing a finger to his own lips in a bid to remain silent and the damned gunman decides it’s a good idea to lick his palm.

Dismas both loathes and loves his decision because his partner grunts, thrusting their clothed bodies together in reparation, the hand against his face squeezing tighter to seal his tongue away.

The drunkard above relieves a startled, “huh,” as he spins around, looking for the source of the noise, but finds the path clear. The hefty weight of footsteps and the clank of glass resumes, continuing onward, the sound of jumbled lyrics gradually fading away.

"You conniving little street rat," the knight reprimands, taking his hand away so the other can speak his amends.

Dismas just grins at him, mischievous, wanting to continue where they left off.

"Should’ve left you at home,” Rey says more sweetly, “This is what I get for bringing you along.” 

The religious sod holds out his hand, letting the trinket unravel from his fingers to dangle above Dismas’ bare chest. Before him spins a silver band fashioned to a convergence of twin guns, pinned by a pair of hawk wings.

It's almost too much for Dismas' lust-buzzed mind to comprehend. 

"Huh? But didn't you say–"

"I know what I said," declares the knight in that deep reverberating voice of his, so solid and firm, just like the rest of him,"It would be better spent on the church. Don't make me regret giving it to you." 

The swordsman is breathing heavily, sweat collecting on his brow, a morbid glare in his bright eyes, though there’s another more tender emotion swirling behind it.

Dismas' ink-set pupils twinkle in that special way that the crusader lives to see, a characteristic only meant for intimate exchanges like these.

"Well, shucks crusader. I didn't know you cared," he taunts, angling his head down in that sultry smolder he knows the other man can't get enough of, arching one of his dark brows in a clear challenge for more.

"Don't play with me Dismas," Reynauld warns, spitting into his free hand, "you should know by now what happens when you do."

He spreads the meager globs of saliva with a few languid pumps of his hand, erection slick enough to fulfill its purpose, positioning himself against his partner's core, adding another drop onto where the two of them meet.

"Mmm, yeah … yeah I do," Dismas moans, biting his lip, eyebrows flicking up to his hairline as he feels that hot length press between his legs ,"why do you think that I ahhhh– by the Light Rey–"

It’s painful and he’s under-stretched, but Dismas doesn’t care, he wasn’t willing to wait. He latches onto his lover's hips as that holy lance drives into him, moaning out just how much he wants this.

"Yes, I love it when you fuck me just like that," the ravenette sings, the discomfort a hazy afterthought.

Right now, this glorious knight in shining armor was his and the rugged ex-con wanted to wear that fact like a brand, to feel the touch of their bodies long after the spell of desire has cooled.

"Dismas, what have I told you," the knight whispers, an azure gaze beholding him with incorrigible fondness.

"That you love me," the highwayman says, grinning ear to ear.

Reynauld shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, and what else," the knight insists, running his hand through the greasy strands of unruly black hair.

"Rey, please," Dismas begs, needing him to move, wrapping encouraging legs around his waist.

In nostalgic reverence, the knight trails his fingers down to the scars on his lover’s mouth, those harsh lips parting to grip the digit between his teeth, biting at it lightly.

"You're too reckless," the swordsman reminds him, pulling his hand away to retrieve the spoils of tonight's excursion. "Will you wear it," the knight asks, trinket captured in his fist as he trails the blunt edges of it over the sharpshooter’s agile front down to his lithe stomach.

"Hmm," the gunman hums, dizzy with pleasure, the chill of metal raising the hairs on his skin. "Yeah, 'cours I will. But only if you promise to fuck me again, just like this," Dismas breathes, grateful to feel the man inside him, the savage friction of their flesh better than any vice he knew.

"It would be my pleasure," Reynauld says, a kingly smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

Dismas melts under those holier-than-thou lips, forgets about being chaste as his muscles relax around the generous length that splits him open with each hallow thrust. He pulls the man in closer, hands grasping at the back of his helmet, needing more of that abstained tongue and voice, wanting everything this man would give him.

Later, when both of them are sated and dressed, Dismas looks down at the necklace Reynauld had given him, marveling at the pendant in his hand and the charming resemblance it held to his own set of pistols.

The highwayman walks a little closer, their shoulders brushing as he leans his head onto the metallic chrome of a battle-worn spaulder, their hands clasped between them, silver and red embracing each other tightly.

He promises never to take it off.

[werspinna]

Does wolf have any kinks? What are some of her turn ons?

Wolf is obviously not someone without kinks, but she also has not the words to properly describe what she likes and what she does not like. She likes to be a switch, even if she very much avoids beeing dominant because she is terrified of holding too hard to a partner and hurt them. She also is a little into Voyeurism in the manner that she like to watch her partner touch themselfs or tell her about their sexual stories, although the latter is probably only part of her dirty humor. In this manner she also enjoys a very good tease, especially if they are done in public and only noticeable for her. Some coy questions and witty hints in a normal conversation that would only be picked up by her, humorous innuendos, whispered plans of what one wnats to do with her when they are alone. Wolf does not like to be touched without her consent (especially when she is grabbed more roughly without former warning) so she is very focused on what she can see her partner doing and what they are using their words for. For the things she does not like: She is easily made uncomfortable and not attracted to very big, muscular, angry and commanding men for the obvious reason that that description fits Leo and Wolf does not like to be remainded of the person that had been her slaveowner for years. In fact its this kind of person she will actively go against like in an instinct. Be openly brutal, loud or easily irritated and you will notonly make Wolf get stubborn and snarky but very easily might end up with a dane-axe by your throat now that Wolf knows that she is very likely stronger than anyone around her and has the chance to protect people in which palce she had been once. There are reasons beside her upbringing and social Community (free republic tadingcity that is Pisa, living in a convent as a tightly knitted community with no social difference beside the Mother superior that had been voted into the position by the community, grown up in Cologne as a tradingknot wit a flourishing middleclass) why she does not like getting commanded around and beeing remainded of Leo is one of them. Its also easily noticeable about her, because the people presenting as masculine she is usually dating are either rather shy, openly nurturing and gentle, or witty and sly but not commanding, or pysically short. For the same reason you would be able to make her swing out of a window halfnaked if one would ever ask her to take part in bondage. She got her old chains molten and casted into a spider-shaped brooch by your friendly nieghbourhood toolsmith and occiaonally jeweller Hinze who has a strangely unending source of metal, silver and gold -*coughs*- , and she is not going back there in any form, even if it is for pleasure.

[skloomdumpster]

Can you do Bloom & Sky in an old, black & white mobster-style movie with fancy dames & sly fellas? Bonus points if there's a feather boa and/or a piano, LOL!

a child raised on TVD and Gossip Girl is a woman who wants tv shows to have more balls and thematic parties, please and thank you.

-----

Bloom tugs at the knot of her dress. It ties around her neck, then leaves all of her back exposed, before the shiny black fabric reappears just before her ass starts and continues on to the floor, with a long slit allowing her to move around. It's a gorgeous dress yes, but she's terrified it'll move out of place and reveal that she's got a magic knife strapped to her upper thigh.

"Stop doing that" Stella snaps at her, sipping the dry martini in her hands, "where is he?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask a couple more times, maybe we can summon Sky out of the floor" Blooms scoffs and Stella turns her head to glare at her.

Tonight, she's in red and it makes her blue eyes even more sparkly, her frown even more disgusted than normal.

"You're such a prick, Bloom" Stella scoffs, fixing the feathery boa she's using to conceal the brooch which has been planted to her cleavage. It's high-tech magic, something that makes Bloom snort just thinking about.

Terra can't wrap her mind around it, but Musa is all over it. She's got a bunch of online hacker friends, one of whom was willing to provide the brooch in question.

Across the room, the pianist starts playing and people move around, taking up the dance floor. Bloom glances at the large grandfather clock, then back to Stella and they exchange a nervous look. If Sky's not back yet, then maybe... Maybe he was caught...

"Princess Stella" a man has the nerve to approach her and Stella visibly winces, but with Queen Luna being the cunt-royale extraordinary, Stella really has to appease to anyone in the court who's willing to side with her. She allows the man to plant his lips briskly over her gloved knuckles and then he's pulling her to the dance floor.

Bloom's alone and panicking by the minute. If Sky failed then not only the mission is jeopardized, but Sky is in danger and that does not fly well with her at all. She knows he's her biggest, most explored weakness.

Her hands are sweating when the music ends, the crowd shuffles around, exchanging partners for the next one - a singer steps on stage, white gloves up to her elbows, black hair reaching her waist in soft angelic waves - and finally Bloom sees him.

Making it down the stairs, clad in a black tuxedo, hair pushed back and a blinding smile on. He's a movie star, Bloom thinks dreamily, letting out a sigh of relief, crumpling down on her chair in an unladylike manner.

Sky crosses the ballroom, navigating between the dancing couples and makes it to her a minute too late, because another guy gets there first. An older man with a goatee, asking for a dance with the Dragon Flame. He even calls her as such, the Dragon Flame. Some men should be slapped with sense across the face, see if they got a hint.

She's looking offended and floored at the old guy, trying to come up with a witty response, but she's never been really good at that, when Sky steps in. Exuding confidence.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Valinor, but I believe the Dragon Flame already has a date" he says, all calm, before promptly turning away from the man, looking at Bloom. His smile is so smug, it makes her cheeks burn, "do you wanna dance?"

She takes his hand, allows Sky to guide her to the middle of the ballroom, leaving behind Mr. Vallinor, one of the main philanthropists for tonight's fundraiser and the whole reason why the thing was thematic.

Sky twirls her once as they step into the ballroom and then his cheek is to her temple and her hand in his, as he easily guides her around. Bless Silva's ballroom classes. She trips once, Sky's hand on her waist squeezes her a little tighter, but he doesn't even mention it.

"What took you so long?" she whispers, looking past his shoulder. She's wearing huge heels tonight, part of the reason why Sky's hands on hers are holding her up every time he makes them step around in a complicated pattern.

He turns his head and his lips brush over her brow, twist in a smile as he leans in to whisper in her ear, "don't stop smiling" she forces a smile on, "may have had to knock out a guard, but everything is fine."

He wasn't meant to knock out anybody, it was an in and out type of mission, they just needed the damn magic book back. Bloom squeezes her eyes shut and Sky bites at her earlobe, "keep smiling, B."

Oh yes, she forces her lips to keep smiling, throws her head back in a false laughter, only so she can glare at her boyfriend. Against his shoulder once more, she whispers, "that was not the plan."

"It was either that or let him kill me, I figured you'd be less upset with the choice I made," Sky scoffs, before kissing her cheek, "calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"What if he wakes up?"

"He won't be a problem," Sky reassures her and Bloom nods slowly. He's never let her down, Sky always comes through with everything. She sighs and then intertwines their fingers, allowing Sky to dip her.

"Let's enjoy the night then" she says and Sky smiles, nose brushing on hers as he leans over her, his hand on her naked back.

"We have until Stell gives us the sign" he agrees, straightening her up, nose to nose. Maybe these rich people parties are not such a waste of time, not if she gets to see Sky in that, not if they waltz around the ballroom for six songs in a row.

[ask-miraculous-hetalia]

Bug and Moose

Beck Oxenstierna. Younger brother of Berwald and current holder of the ladybug earrings. A bright smile crossed the Swede's face. Seems people like the new miraculous holder that popped up. Depending on the situation, of course. Hirvi. Red eyes look down when someone tugged on his sleeve. Oh, it's just his 12-year-old son Rurik.

"What's up, buddy?" He asked. "Garth and I made a friend at the park earlier," Rurik said. "Oh yeah? What's their name?" Beck asked. "Samuel Koskinen." "And where does he live?" There was a moment of silence from the preteen.

Tapio Koskinen. Current holder of the moose brooch. Red eyes look at the 13-year-old that approached him. His oldest son, Samuel. In Samuel's arms is his youngest brother, Kal. Boy's only 3 and a half. Kal reached for the older male, whom gladly took him from Samuel.

"How's the job hunt going, Isä?" Samuel asked. Tapio sighed. "Not so good, Sammy." Glancing up, Tapio saw his kwami Rook at the entrance of the cave. Better not be anything bad. He hated leaving his kids alone in the cave. What would happen if someone came by and saw them alone? What if they were attacked by wild animals? What if they wandered off and he couldn't find them? Tapio knew that last thing was unlikely, but he still worried it might happen. He rubbed Kal's back as Rook dashed to Tapio's shoulder, making sure none of the kids saw him. Something was said into Tapio's ear that made him look at Samuel. "Sammy, did you make any new friends today?" He asked. "Oh! Yeah," Samuel said. "Was at the park after school earlier and I befriended a set of brothers." "What are their names?" Tapio asked. "Rurik and Garth Oxenstierna," Samuel said. "Didn't think they'd want to come see me." So, they are on their way. That's what Rook had just informed him of. "Why don't we go meet them?" This made Samuel smile. "Ok." Tapio carried Kal to the cave entrance with Samuel at his side. Sure enough, there was three figures approaching. All seem to be males. So, a father and his sons. Tapio didn't know what he thought the father was going to look like, but he sure didn't expect him to be a red eyed male with shoulder length red hair and an undercut. There also happens to be glasses on his face.

"Hi Sammy," Rurik said and ran to hug the older boy. Samuel hugged Rurik in turn. "Hi Rurik." Rurik seems to be a strawberry blond with red eyes while his brother from what he can tell has red hair as well and red eyes. The child has a green bandana covering most of his hair. "So, this is Samuel," the older redhead said. "You must be his father." Tapio nodded. "Tapio Koskinen. I take it you're These two's father?" A nod from the other. "Beck Oxenstierna. Sorry for the sudden appearance, but Rurik and Garth wanted to come see Samuel. Who was I to say no?"

Over the months, Samuel got to know Garth and Rurik as Tapio got to know their father, Beck. It did take a while for him to not be suspicious of the Swede, but it did happen. Turns out they had a bit in common. For starters, they're both single fathers looking out for their kids and doing everything they could for them. Then there's the fact that neither of them are straight. They're both pansexual. Both have an interest in making music and play guitars. Their kids seemed to notice the chemistry the two of them have and thus had a secret meeting of their own.

"We need to get our dads together," Rurik said. Garth and Samuel nod. "They'd be cute together," Samuel agreed. "How are we going to go about this?" Garth asked. "That's where I did the research," Rurik said with a sly smile. "I managed to get them a reservation at a restaurant followed by tickets to a movie. We just have to leave the tickets and info where they can find it." "I'll take care of leaving it for Isä if you do the same for your dad," Samuel said. Garth and Rurik nod. This means Samuel will also have to get Tapio a new suit, since his only one is old and a bit torn in places.

When Beck found the note and the ticket, he'd just gotten back from a tv interview for a local talk show. The note simply said he'd be meeting someone special at a nice restaurant followed up by seeing a movie with them. So, it looks like he won't be changing out of what he's wearing, then. Thankfully the location of the restaurant was also written on the note.

"Rurik, Garth, looks like I'm leaving right after I got back," he said to the two boys. "Be good while I'm out." "Ok papa," Garth and Rurik say. They smirk at each other. Taking the ticket, Beck headed back out and to the location of the restaurant. "Do you have a reservation?" The Maitre'd asked when Beck walked in. Right, the note had also mentioned to say his last name. "Oxenstierna," Beck said. "Right this way," the other said after getting two menus. They then led Beck to a table for two. Beck sat on one of the seats and looked over the menu. A couple minutes later, someone joined him. "Beck?" Red eyes look up to see Tapio there. "Tapio?" He asked. "I think our boys set us up on a date," Tapio said. "Well, do you want to?" Beck asked after a moment. "I wouldn't mind." Tapio was silent for a moment. "Yes."

[fatedevour]

♢  —    @bogachs​​​​​​​​​ asked:  "i need help with my tie, would you mind?"

love, rosie sentences: ACCEPTING

  It was such an ILLOGICAL statement that was swollen with absurdity despite the silky smooth delivery from the ninth harbinger. Sweet to the ear, and sweeter even to those who did not know the poison that often lurked in sugary words, unaware that POISON could often taste sweet. Though that is not the motive HERE, he knows well enough that this is a prompt to action.

   Why? Pantalone has tied his own ties hundreds if not thousands of times. If it was something as COMPLEX as the straps of his outfit he could understand. It drags Dottore’s eyes to life from where he was sprawled with a casual, relaxed posture as he read through papers, to instead direct his gaze to Pantalone in front of him. That’s right. He had some dinner meeting tonight, didn’t he? Carmine eyes trailed over his figure in contemplation. Pantalone was always PERFECTLY put together, like the pinnacle of efficiency, a refined weapon with edges sharp enough to bleed at the lightest touch.

   He NEARLY rejects the request with a scoff. Pantalone is more than capable without his assistance. But they both know this. Red eyes narrow for a fraction of a moment, pulling apart the words like a dissection and inspecting the insides for the reasoning. He lingers a moment, then CASTS ASIDE his reading to stand up from the couch with a slight grimace at the tense muscles that protest his sudden movement.

   “  How very like you to pose a demand as a question. An illusion of choice.  “  Dottore teases as he crosses the room, taking the tie from Pantalone’s waiting hand. Oh, it sounded like a request. But with Pantalone, such requests were RARE. Let alone something of this matter. Albeit Dottore could have rejected him and snickered at the irritated pout that  would certainly appear when things didn’t go as desired by the banker. Right now,  Dottore held no doubt that Pantalone was simply RELISHING in the fact he COULD make such a request. Or perhaps it was for the intimacy of the moment. Both, based on probability.

   Dottore carefully pulls the fabric around Pantlaone’s neck, red eyes resting on Pantalone’s features for a moment before focusing on the tie. He knows PRECISELY how long Pantalone always seems to prefer his ties, flawlessly replicating the act he’s seen performed without hesitation or uncertainty. Careful hands smooth out the tie against the fabrics, ensuring it laid properly against Pantalone lest the other voice complaint. (  He was not helping just to get NAGGED about something neglected.  )

   “  Do you want one of your tie brooches while I’m at it? Maybe the blue and silver one?  “  He raises an eyebrow slightly. Was this an occasion that demanded such formal accessories? Then again, such a OSTENTATIOUS accessory would be right to Pantalone’s tastes. As he waits for the answer though, a sly smile forms as he leans a tad closer.  “  Since I’m being so helpful, don’t I deserve a little something in return?  “ 

[thehollowgateway]

As a child, Maksy was a brat, but in a way he was clever and sly. Although he was born in a rich Polish family, he hid the fancy clothes his mother bought him and traded his jade-encrusted brooch to a street corner peddler for a coarse garment. He 'disguised himself' as a street kid and followed other kids in the neighbourhood running every where. He laughed at the dirty gallows, provoked the Tsarist police, got into the bazaars and petty thefts, followed older children into the pubs, peeped in the red light district and got into fights with children from another neighbourhood...... If judging from the point of view of rich families parents, young Maksy commited almost every evil crime. But every time after a wild adventure somewhere, the dusty, wild child would vanish before his friends could notice. After a while, once again in the hall of the Góral's house, the boy appears in clean and neat clothes. His mother would always bend down to examine the calm little guy. Sometimes she would blame him for messing up his hair again, but she knows nothing about how crazy day was this little brat had exprienced

[atheliasnotebook]

Kaeya + 🦚 + Fluff (and maybe royalty au?)

prince from the frosted hearth

pairing: prince!kaeya alberich x reader

tags: event (🦚), fluff, confession, royalty au

author’s note: oh man i deadass just rushed to finish this bc im so braindead rn, but let me know if you’re interested in more of this au in the future :)

you stand there—dressed from head to toe in your most elegant garments. adorned in a rather pleasant headpiece, hair pleasantly curled and brushed, complimented by dark colors of navy—as per the dress decorum listed by the ragnvindr family.

kaeya, giving his speech—continues to give you the most cocky grin as he looks at you, glancing across the crowd before he looks back at you, chuckling in between his honey-laced words.

the young prince toasts to the crowd, and such a congregation reciprocates the action in a tumult of cheer and agreement.

and of course, you smile and toast back. yet—you’re not interested in such pleasantries and small talk with others. clearly, prince kaeya’s eyes meet and wander up and down the displayed grandeur of your clothes.

making your way through the crowd, stepping through towards the courtyard and taking a seat—inhaling the fresh flowing air of the ragnvindr family’s botanical garden, refreshing the senses much better than the stifling party atmosphere. you merely sip at your drink in your glass.

“now, what brings a pleasant person as yourself into the garden all alone?”

“the amount of fake faces put on in that ballroom equate to that similar of my own siblings.”

“ah, but you see—is that really true?” the prince smirks, leaning forward as he sips the last of his glass and sets it on the edges of the brick planter of a flowerbed. after setting down the glass, he leans over you—making sure not to trample on your fine attire.

what a sly man! it’s hard to ignore him—after all, the elegant peacock brooch fastened to the lapel of his coat is so… beautifully sheening an emerald green. and additionally, the black suit accompanied by a navy tie, along with his multicolored hair brushed and tied quite stylishly. your eyes merely wander up and down… how could a man be this well dressed? especially one who typically tends to defy the normal dress code…

“oh dear—i must be quite the view if you keep staring a hole into me like that~” he chuckles, the heat and blush in your face reaching up to your ears.

“sir kaeya—i’m afraid that your remarks do not work—“ why are you lying? maybe it’s the champagne finally getting to you?

“even if they don’t work, i’m alright with that. but now that i’ve caught you alone—perhaps you can join me tomorrow for a night out?”

it took you a second to process the young prince’s inquiry. such a comment is enlightening to the soul, yet puzzling. why you… in particular? as you both exchange saccharine smiles, it’s as though as you’ve sobered up at the request.

“i shall hold you to that, prince kaeya.”

“of course, dearest (y/n).”

for a prince of ice, his warm heart surely offers quite the pleasant residence for your troubled minds.

[luminous-letters]

A giggle and a sigh sounded in the middle of the lush fields, between the lilacs, hyacinths and peonies. Spring was in full bloom, the sweet floral fragrance hung in the afternoon air.

"Come on Jack!" An excited holler came from you, you childishly held Jack's hand as you brushed across the fields. "Wait a minute, MC...!" Jack protested, the cool gales swept over his silvery hair.

Jack wore a cozy beige cardigan, there was a small shiny crescent brooch that was pinned on its right chest side. He had pastel colored hair clips scattered all over, with some stickers messily plastered across his face. You gushed at your little arts and crafts project.

You dashed like a gazelle, with the wolf following suit. You slowed, feeling your breath shortening. Meanwhile, Jack kept a steady pace, muscular legs pumped against the ground. You stopped, catching your breath underneath the viridian shade of the willow tree.

"MC, your inhaler." Jack rummaged through his pocket, he pulled out the sky blue inhaler. You were quick to use it, giving it a few seconds before you slumped in relief. "You're an idiot." Jack scolded, sitting across you. "I know." You offered him a sly grin.

"You good?" He inquired, raising you a judging brow. "Yeah, good. Let's just rest here a....a bit." You replied, slightly breathless. You looked up, mesmerized by the mosaic of light against the tree's leafy cover.

Thin strips of light decorated the surroundings, painting the both of you in its magical glow. The singing of the sparrows in the distance. The entire scene was like a figment taken out from a fairytale.

A lone butterfly rested on Jack's nose, its deep sapphire wings expanded. Curious eyes stared at it, staring with marvel at its patterns. "Achoo!" A quick sneeze from Jack sent the mariposa fluttering away. You laughed.

"Shut up." Jack growled, flicking your forehead to stop your from running yourself out breath any further. "We should just walk." He grumbled, running a bronze hand against his thick silver locks. "Sure thing.", came your reply.

You strolled out of the cool shade, now under the vast cerulean sky. The cottony clouds swiftly floated in and out of sight, it offered shade to ease the walk.

"It's nice, isn't it?" You sighed, gazing up you felt ripples of freedom inside you, like a comfortable strum in your silver threads. You felt like you could fly up high with the clouds at any moment. "It is...wish I could take a picture." Jack whispered.

The scent of salt and the sound of waves grew stronger and crisper. Soon, the sight of the aquamarine coast graced your vision. You sat on a hilltop overlooking the sea.

"Come on, sit." You patted the space beside you. Jack's enormous figure rested beside you, "Don't talk to me like I'm a dog.", he huffed. "Wait, did it sound like that? Sorry."

"It's fine." He brushed it off, patting your head. You lay down on the grass as the sea breeze grazed over the hilltop, shaking a few stray tulips.

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat in sync with the distant crashing of the waves. It was the lullaby that sung you to sleep, you felt a strong hand hold you as you drifted off to dreamland.

The sight that greeted when you awoke was divine. The afterglow blanketed the land, it's purple pink skies was a sight to behold. The sea continued to sing its song in late afternoon waters.

The first few stars twinkled in the sky, with the moon rising to the heavens as the sun retreated for the day.

The light snore of Jack got your attention. You faced to the side, warmly smiling when you saw his relaxed expression. Tufts of hair poked and scattered about, the clips and stickers still firmly planted themselves on him.

You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before joining him again. "Love you..." You brushed a few stray strands of his hair. You rested against him again, submerging yourself into the glittered waters of slumber.

Notes: A spring themed piece as requested by @eidenverecunia