#vast bitches stick together

[kalgalen]

@soveryanon​ is responsible for this (but maybe not as much as me for giving the mpreg prompt during the tma slash game - ANYWAY)

[currently taking prompts for €9 - check my pinned!]

[iceman-maverick]

is softly trying to wake up your sleepy partner a trope ? idk. anyway “ice, baby, it’s time to wake up.”

“Ice, baby,” Maverick whispers, lightly pushing at his shoulder “it’s time to wake up,” 

Several truths reveal themselves to Ice the moment he returns to consciousness:

It is swelteringly hot

The base of his spine hurts like a bitch

He is naked

And, most troubling, he is quite sticky 

None of these revelations are particularly encouraging, but his aching back quickly takes priority as Ice comes to and gets his bearings. He stretches his arms, grossly caked in dried over sweat, over his head and then yelps once his index finger collides with the metal coils of the bed frame. He frowns, bringing the wounded digit to his lips. 

Maverick is sitting on the edge of the bed - dressed, showered, and shaven with an irritatingly dopey smile. He’s wearing jeans and his leather jacket, which doesn’t make much sense given how fucking hot it is in here.

Ice squints at him accusingly. 

“What-” Ice starts, then swallows. His throat is bone-dry, his tongue not much farther off as he sucks on his still throbbing finger. “What time- wait, where are we?” 

The curtains of the room are drawn shut tight enough that just the slightest ray of sunlight is able to creep in. There’s no air conditioning, and the bedframe squeaks loudly with even the slightest of movement so Ice figures that wherever they are, it’s old as hell. 

“It’s almost three,” Mav tells him. He gestures for Ice to sit up and passes over a glass to Ice’s free hand. Ice frowns as the motion pulls unpleasantly at his back and then promptly gulps down the entire thing. Ice rolls his shoulders and pops his neck. God, he is fucking sore. 

“Come on sweetheart,” Mav prompts, “wheels up. Slider’s starting to lose it out there,” 

Mav stands and walks over to open the curtain, flooding the room with light. Ice flinches at the brightness, peeling back the thin cover sheet and swinging his legs over so that his feet land on the fuzzy teal carpet. The sheet - adorned with pastel pink flowers and butterflies - sticks to Ice’s leg as he moves. He grimaces as the puzzle pieces begin to fall in place.

“Am I in heat?” He asks, trying not to be overly put out by Maverick’s smug look. 

“Nope,” Mav pops the 'p', from where he stands, arms crossed, by the window. “Well, you were. Not anymore though, I saw to that, thank you very much. It came on fast enough that we had to get real creative,"

Ice blinks, his stomach drops. "...Creative?"

"We’re in Nana’s room,” 

Oh Christ.

It had been Ice’s idea in the first place to get the band back together so to speak. It had been a few years and between deployments, reassignments, and Hollywood going local, everyone was clamoring for a vacation.

Maverick famously hates anything to do with camping so they compromised, landing on what Slider has taken to calling Boyscouts Lite. Ice found an RV rental and enough tents to reasonably shelter a handful of pilots, three women, an eight year old, and twin baby girls.

A tall order to fill, no doubt, but thankfully Slider's Nana conveniently owns a vast plot of land up in NorCal with river access, enough trees to give Hollywood the creeps and, most importantly, radio signal. Maverick refused to go unless he could be guaranteed his daily dose of Springsteen. Nana was more than happy to act as their crew's headquarters, positively delighted to meet all of Ronald’s little friends. 

Ice’s last lucid memory was breaking up an argument between Carol and Wolf. They had been organizing the fishing equipment when suddenly Wolf shrieked a sharp, piercing wail that startled several birds into flight. His finger had been pricked - barely, Carol protested. Accusations began flying and Maverick, naturally, was no help. 

Within moments of parking the RV, Mav elected himself as the resident river thermometer, stripping to board shorts, making a real show of it once the chorus of whistles and cheers started up. He plopped himself down - a can of beer in either hand - onto one of Bradley’s tubes (the one with the flamingos, specifically) and cast off into the river. Supervising, he had smirked from his tube, bopping along without a care in the world. Ice supposed he should be grateful that his alpha wasn’t one of those excruciating knotheads that insisted on micromanaging everything, but mostly Ice was just annoyed that he was left alone to wrangle with the tents. 

Ice vaguely remembers pushing himself between Carol and Wolf - the distinctly unpleasant scent of agitated betas making his lip curl. He had shoved Wolf back hard and then after that Ice’s memory goes mostly blurry.

Heat tends to do that to a guy.

“Come on,” Maverick startles him back into the present, reaching a hand out to pull Ice to his feet. Ice brings his arms up and around Maverick’s neck, breathing in the reassuring scent of content alpha - his alpha. 

“Hi,” Ice smiles into Mav’s neck, swaying forward to let the alpha bear most of his weight. Mav makes a pleased sound and wraps his arms around Ice’s hips, digging his thumbs in to massage at the sore tissue.

The sound Ice lets out in relief is rather unbecoming of a naval officer with his record, but Ice is too blissed out to find it in himself to be embarrassed. Plus, they're alone and it's not ike Maverick is a stranger to the various groans, moans, and whines Ice comes up with. No, Maverick loves when Ice gets vocal, makes it his most sacred duty to get Ice to make as many sounds as possible in bed.

It's a shame he doesn't remember much of the previous night, Ice thinks. If the ache in his back is anything to go by, it must have been a good one.

Ice lifts up his right leg to rest atop Maverick’s hip and swoons as Mav, ever eager to follow Ice’s lead, uses his grip to pull up Ice into his arms. It’s a little ridiculous, what with Ice’s clear size advantage and all. But Maverick is strong, and takes Ice’s weight like it’s nothing. He shuffles his hold so that Ice can squeeze his thighs around Mav’s waist, effectively clinging like a starfish across Maverick’s front. 

“Hi,” Mav smiles back once they’re both situated. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

Ice drops his head to rest snuggly on Mav’s shoulder, and nods. He lets his eyes close as Maverick begins to walk towards what Ice prays to be some form of indoor plumbing.

---

going into heat while being slathered in sunscreen and bugspray must be amongst the top 10 ickiest feelings of all time, ice truly is so brave.

We're playing an IceMav askbox fic game. Send me a trope and a first sentence and I'll write at least one paragraph!

[duckapus]

(So I went on a walk and came up with a great idea for Showtime's ultimate fate at the end of the Wonder Arc, and even though I still have the vast majority of the arc to write I wanted to get this out now so I don't forget it. I'll do my best to not include any spoilers beyond "the good guys win in the end" and "yeah the character heavily implied to be Floyd was definitely Floyd")

As everyone else is celebrating, Duck wanders the battlefield seemingly aimlessly, looking for something, "Come on, with that much personality and determination you must left something behind..."

In a relatively quiet area he sees it; a tiny, malformed, glowing lump of some black-and-pink substance half-buried in the dirt, invisible and intangible to anyone but himself. He picks it up and checks it over, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn't sense any of the meat moss's power or influence lingering within it, "Well, you've caused quite a bit of grief the last couple weeks."

Floyd overhears him and floats over, eyeing the lump nervously, "Wait, is that..."

"Showtime's soul, yeah."

"Huh. Didn't think she'd have one, considering she was pretty much just where the corruption and Emmy's brain overlapped."

"Yeah, it's definitely a case of just barely managing it. It's horrifically underdeveloped and rotted almost clean through...but not quite irredeemable, now that all the gunk's been cleaned out." despite the gentle smile saying this prompts from him, there's a distinctly unfriendly, possibly vengeful gleam in his eyes.

"Uh, I know you had something to do with Welony coming back. You're not gonna-"

"No! Hell no, I'm not making you guys deal with her after all that!" He did not get his physical form stuck inside a mushroom just to more-or-less reward the bitch that indirectly caused it, "No, I have something much more interesting planned..." Yep. Definitely vengeful.

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

The next thing Showtime knows, she's waking up in what looks like a factory inside a volcano with the world's worst hangover.

"Ohhhh, dying's a bitch." she reaches up and massages the bridge of her beak with one flipper while doing her best to push herself up off the ground with the other.

...Wait.

Beak?

Flippers!?

Headache briefly forgotten, she shoots up (and then nearly topples right back over because it feels like she's on fucking stilts) and looks around frantically for a reflective surface. When she finally finds a big, particularly well-polished exposed gear, she's stunned by what she sees.

There in the makeshift mirror, there stands a bizarre, penguin-like thing held together by comically large stitches, brought up from two feet to three by a pair of long wooden peg-legs, with tiny black bat wings and a fucking fanny pack! The only things left of her old, beautiful self are her color scheme and eyes- mostly pink with a black belly and sclera and blood-red question marks for pupils.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"The proper grammatical structure would be "what the fuck, dood," miss Showtime."

She whirls around to see who the hell just said that, finding an absolute twink of a vampire who clearly has a stick up his ass, and a brown haired teenage girl in an outfit clearly designed to look like a blue version of her current dumpy form leaning casually on a baseball bat like it's a cane.

The girl pipes up, "She's gonna be a hard case, huh boss?"

"You would know, miss "I'll just blindly obey the first person who talks to me and incite a revolution because this is clearly all just a dream and nothing matters"."

"Hey, I got over my denial eventually, didn't I?"

"Yes, and then you strongarmed me into making you a demon and one of my TA's so you could focus on world domination plans with your little sister and wouldn't have to reincarnate or take those remedial lessons you owed me."

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON????"

"Ah yes, my apologies. I am the Vampire Lord Valvatorez, Prinny Instructor Extraordinaire!" he poses exactly as dramatically as you'd expect, then makes a sweeping gesture to the girl, "And this is Fuka Kazamatsuri, one of my assistants."

Fuka gives a lazy, two-fingered salute, "Yo."

"And you, miss Showtime, are part of the Netherworld's latest batch of new Prinnies."

"I...don't know what that means."

Fuka takes over the explanation, "Right, you're not from around here so you wouldn't know. Okay, so first off, you are fully aware that you're dead, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, here in our universe, one of four things can happen when you die...well, technically five if you include ghosts. Your average Joe who had a zero-impact life where they didn't cause no major trouble for nobody just gets reincarnated. Especially virtuous souls become Angels, while truly irredeemable ones get flat-out destroyed. And for people like you and me, who've either sinned frequently enough to get noticed or done some truly heinous shit, but still have a chance to do better next time, there's Prinnies.

"As a Prinny, your one goal in afterlife is to atone for your sins so you can...basically pay off your tab. And to atone, you work. You work for whatever Angel or Demon will hire you for whatever pay they're willing to give you doing whatever job they have for you. Once you've worked long enough, hard enough, and feel genuine remorse for all you've done? You get to reincarnate with the Joe Schmoes. Total clean slate, new body, new mind, whole new you." She smirks and pulls an extremely thick scroll with Showtime's name written at the top in flowing script, "And you've built up quite the tab for such a young soul."

Oh. Oh god no.

"Also you explode if someone throws you. It doesn't kill you or anything, but it's not exactly fun," she shrugs, "could be worse, though. I mean, you picked a pretty good Netherworld to spend your damnation in. We've got, like, Unions and shit."

Showtime just barely manages to shake herself out of her near-catatonic state, "And, uh...what does me not saying "dude" have to do with that?"

Val-whatever his name was once again takes the stage, ""A Prinny must always end the final sentence in their current dialogue box with 'dood', that spelling specifically, or else face grave consequences, unless circumstances render it impossible to do so." The first of many lessons you will learn here. As I'm sure you've noticed, a newly created Prinny does not automatically know how to be a Prinny. Your movements, your magic, the behavior expected of you all of these things and more must be taught! And as your assigned Instructor, it is my duty and privilege to ensure that your entry into Prinny society is as smooth and painless as possible, as I do with every damned soul that passes through these halls."

Aaaand there's the catatonia again.

"Now come along, miss Showtime. If my watch is correct, it's nearly time for Orientation, and I will not tolerate tardiness from either of us."

[dokpetra]

I'm 31 (the secret word today was birthday and my closest mates did me the great joyful favor of joining me in SCREEEEEEEEAM every time the secret word was said!!!!! Which was often!!!!!!!!!)

I had a wonderful birthday,

And unfortunately on this day I lost a childhood hero.

The following is me pouring my whole heart out about what the character of Pee Wee means to me.

When I imagine growing up without the delightful presence of Pee Wee Herman, I feel nauseous. I'm not being dramatic or figurative. I mean it hurts, in my guts.

How can I put into words the sheer wonder and glee Pee Wee's art has brought me throughout these 31 years? I couldn't do it justice.

Maybe to start with a smidgen about my own self,

I am, simply put: a relatively tortured soul. I'm not trying to be goth about it or whatever, I'm just genuinely quite wounded and scarred from trauma, as many of us are. It's ugly, stark reality is rarely cute.

Friends, family, community, and (to a much lesser but still notable extent), certain meds and certain limbs of the psychological care industry, saved me from a path of rapid self collapse in my 20s. Up til then and for a long while since, it was in short and simple terms a lot... a lot of internal screaming. Thank the vast beautiful and indifferent universe: there is so much less brain screaming now. How nice is that even just by itself. Exhale with me if you like.

So as a kid who's brain was often screaming, when I say that in 1997, Pee Wee's Playhouse on a crusty rental VHS was an oasis from my reality, I mean that. Like an oasis in a desert. Twas joy incarnate to me: every object in the house is alive. Every object in the house loves you. You and your cuddly chair and your window and your kite and your puppet friends and your machine friends and your toy friends AND your many human friends spend each day laughing screaming and learning together.

Everywhere you look: the house is alive. And the house and everyONE and everyTHING dances in giddy chaotic animation. Compassion abounds and everyone is free to be. And in this house, that includes freedom to be sad, to do your own thing, to be loud, to tell stories and jokes, to work out your problems together, or to stick 5 pencils in a potato to make an animal, it's called being creative!!!!!!!!

Each episode contained one thousand things that didn't happen in the last, and also, each episode followed nearly the same structure and rhythm. A delightful and soothing flux between the novel and the routine.

It is likely no surprise that as I grew up with a burdensome amount of scream-brain, I have and had a tendency toward escapism. What a font of healthy, zany, cathartic, blissful escapism this work was. I laughed with him, screamed with him, and when the chorus-tinted Roland keyboard began and the wall opened up to reveal his souped up scooter, telling the viewer a bit ahead of time that it's time to say goodbye for now, I would cry: would miss him.

As I grew to adulthood Pee Wee always felt like a friend. Pee Wee's Big Adventure, which my mom and her friends saw over and over in the theaters when it came out, (it's her delight to reminisce about when it comes up, and my delight to hear about) has been a staple of my movie nights.

I have heard the cruel words, in my younger years watching vh1 i heard the echoes of his time in the proverbial stocks for what is to me not a misdeed worthy of lifelong public humiliation. I believe the man is entitled to his privacy. I will say no more and entertain no further discussion of that.

Anyway,

How is this for uncanny? Last night on the eve of my birthday, my roommates and I finally, as we had been meaning to for weeks, watched a few episodes of Pee Wee's Playhouse. It had been a couple years for me. I was transported back to some of the happiest moments of my rather fraught childhood. One birthday gift I gave myself this year is to let myself be a weird bitch with ABANDON: I am lifelong weird bitch but I'm talking weird bitch unchained. This is me making clever words about my need to make fucking weird sounds and when I am TOO HAPPY make the TOO HAPPY yells and clap and freak out. It's too much to hold that back. So I celebrated rather autistically! And we laughed and enjoyed it together. I talked sentimentally to my roommates about what the character Pee Wee means to me, how grateful I am that Paul Rubens shared this world of imagination with our generation, and those before and after ours.

So today when another roommate told me the news, it just, kind of, couldn't have been.... realer.

And this is sort of where I lose my words about it- it's still fresh. I am not at all ashamed to say I wept for the passing of a character; of a man behind this character I do not know and never met.

Free Imagination is, to me, the gift Paul Rubens gave to the world; at least, to me. It is a gift needed like water in the world today, and a gift that gives and gives and gives.

There are a blessed small handful of artists whose work truly grabs my mind by the hand and leads it to this safe, endless, and wonderfully unpredictable place. Imagination begets imagination and each person's mind is a universe all their own. I see this gift and I embrace it humbly and with open arms.

I will end here. Pee Wee....

From the bottom of my heart:

Thank you. 🕊🫂😢🧚🤖🐄💐🌺🌏🎡🛴🌞🌜🥸👽🫅🏿🤠🧞‍♂️🚵‍♂️🤹🪐🎉🎈🎀🎁🪁🎱🔮🎨🧶🪩🧿🪄✨️🎆🥀🥀🥀

[darling-i-read-it]

Once Upon A Dream

Part 1/2

Prince Caspian x reader, eventual The Darkling (Aleksander) x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: death, sadness, insinuations to smut

Author’s Note: me last night: Maya at age 5 and Maya at age 17 came together to do this for you all (and myself lol). I really hope you all enjoy this because I really really did. I wanted to do it all in one part but then I was writing and I couldn’t stop lol. (also this is not proofread lol). Inspired by this edit by @/daniellasedits on tiktok)

(@chameleon-junkie helped with the logistics! Don’t come at us, we are not Narnia experts lol.)

Summary: You, a Grisha, stumble into the wardrobe where you find yourself in Narnia. You meet Prince Caspian there whom you fall in love with. (Eventual Darkling x reader next part!)

Genre: fluff, angst at the end

Song: Once Upon A Dream by Mary Costa

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

Figured I’d tag these people cause they showed interest in this! I hope y’all don’t mind I’m just excited lol: @russian-soft-bitch, @elisaa-shelby, @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem and @draco-loves-ferrets ‘s hufflepuff friend who’s @ I do not know lol

(not my gif)

You carefully walked on the cobblestone ground. You didn’t want to make too much of a sound so you kept your steps light. As long as you could get back to your room before the Darkling arrived in the castle it would be alright.

You had never even seen the man but he struck a fear in you. That wasn’t unlike anybody else in the castle. He was a very scary man. Even his name could scare a room of people, though he was usually nowhere near. As a Grisha you had to learn about him but of course you didn’t have to actually see him.

This was your first time staying at the castle. You came up for some extra schooling. You showed some promising powers and many people considered you one of the strongest in your craft. You were likely to have to perform your powers in front of the king himself and perhaps even the Darkling.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You were trying to keep your mind off of it and explore the vast castle in the meantime. Some of the rooms you found looked as though they hadn’t been touched in decades. You had made it to a floor that relatively no one else was on.

You opened another door slowly.

You stepped inside and closed it behind you, your eyes gazing around. Unlike the other rooms you had found, there was only one piece of furniture in there. It lacked the elegance of the rest of the rooms, along with the fancy things inside. Furrowing your brows, you walked up to the wardrobe in the back middle of the room. You brushed your hand on the fine craftsman and then flung it open.

“Damn. Just clothes,” you muttered to yourself. Fur coats and other keftas. You let out a sigh and grabbed the side of the wardrobe doors. You had every intention of leaving it closed until you felt a cold wind on your cheek. You looked around the room. Completely void of windows. You looked further into the wardrobe and moved the coats aside, looking for a back to it. You were surprised to find a lack of back to it. You stepped inside, moving further inside. You felt around for a back.

You didn’t find another piece of wood. Instead you felt the cool brush of wind against your hand. You moved aside the keftas and stepped into a wood, filled with trees. Snow was lightly falling onto your hand but it hadn’t begun to stick yet.

Your mouth hung open in surprise. You turned back to the wardrobe but found the coats were surrounded by even more trees, rendering it nearly invisible with the elements.

You shook your head gently as you looked around.

“Oh well, who are you?” You turned your head quickly, looking around for another human.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Down here.” You looked down below you, coming face to face with a beaver. They were standing on two feet, looking up at you. Your eyes went wide in surprise.

“You can speak?”

“Of course I can speak. What on Earth are you wearing dear?” You looked down at your blue kefta and furrowed your eyebrows.

“Where am I?” The beaver smiled a bit, which amazed you but you had other problems.

“Narnia darling.” “Where?” The beaver raised their head and nodded a tad.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

“No, I...I was in the castle and then I went through this wardrobe and then…” You turned to point at the wardrobe but lost it in the trees. You searched but found nothing.

“Well I don’t know what castle you were talking about. The witch’s castle is far away from here and the kings is pretty far as well,” the beaver told you. “I’m Mrs. Beaver. Perhaps you want to come back to my home and I can help you out.”

“Mrs. Beaver? Oh, uh sure.” She started to walk away and you followed her, eyes trailing back to where you had come from. It was still lost in the forest, invisible.

=====

You sat at a very small table, looking at the food the Beavers had given you. You nibbled on a couple of things.

“What is that silly jacket you were wearing?” Mr. Beaver asked. You looked down at your kefta.

“It’s my kefta. It means I’m a summoner,” you said.

“A summoner? What does that mean?” Mrs. Beaver questioned. You looked down sheepishly.

“You don’t have Grisha here?”

“Grosha?”

“Grisha,” you corrected. They gave you skeptical looks. You shook your head gently and picked up the small cup, drinking it carefully. “You have a lovely home and I thank you for your hospitality but I should probably be getting on my way.” You stood up and bent down, making sure you didn’t hit your head.

“Be careful out in the woods deary. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Mrs. Beaver asked. You shook your head kindly.

“Thank you but I have to get on my way. Thank you again.” They both nodded. Mrs. Beaver handed you another biscuit which you took graciously.

You left their little home and began your walk back the way you came. Wherever you were, you had to get back. Who knows what would happen if you were gone too long. Oh, you hoped you weren’t missing anything important.

You walked for a while. Your feet began to ache and you felt your kefta become uncomfortable. The sun was going to go down soon.

God, which way was it you came? Were you even going the right way? You scratched your head.

Suddenly you heard the sound of horses. You turned quickly, hiding behind a tree. You peeked behind it to see a man about your age riding a horse. He came to a slow steady stop, looking around the forest.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place? Seems very far away,” he called back.

“I’m sure my King!” King? You started to lean further out and then tripped on the stick below you. You cursed under your breath as you stumbled out from behind the tree. You looked up, raising your hands up to prepare to use your powers. The man saw you and quickly drew his sword, prompting his horse over. He pointed the sword at you.

“Who are you? What are you wearing?”

“Why does everyone care about my coat?” you muttered. “I’m Y/N. I’m a Grisha.”

“A what?”

“I don’t think I’m meant to be here. I came through a wardrobe, this isn’t my world. I’m just trying to get back to where I came from,” you told him. The man looked down at you. He recalled his friends, the former Kings and Queens. They had come through a wardrobe once. His men quickly caught up to him, stopping their horses behind him.

“Who is this?” one of the knights questioned.

“A friend,” he told them. “Stand up.” You stood up straight and brushed off your clothing. “You’ll ride with me,” he said. You nodded a bit as he extended his hand. You took it and he helped hoist you up behind him.

“What’s your name?” you questioned, sitting behind him. Your hands rested gently on his sides, a habit from having rode horses with other Grisha for years.

“Caspian.”

“Where are we going Caspian?”

“My castle.”

====

It was even better than the castle back in Ravka. Perhaps you just felt more welcome here than you had back in Ravka but either way, once you got off that horse you felt like you had entered into a dream. Caspian kept you close to him as he walked up the front doors. People parted ways when they were in his way. He called people’s names, smiled at them, asking them questions.

You were silent through it all, though you could hear the whispering.

Who was this woman with the King?

People didn’t recognize you, your clothing, your stance. Finally Caspian took you into one of his private rooms where it was only the two of you.

He sat down at the window sill and turned to you, a serene look on his face. You fidgeted nervously.

“Tell me about this land you came from.”

“You don’t think I’m insane?” He smiled a bit, shaking his head gently.

“No. Why don’t you have a seat?” He gestured to his desk chair. You walked over awkwardly and sat down in front of him.

“Animals don’t talk where I’m from. And there are Summoners and Materialki and...other things.”

“We don’t have any of that here.”

“Clearly,” you said, laughing a bit. “What about Narnia? What is it like here?” He shrugged.

“It’s a wonderful place. In harmony currently. Which is why I’m curious as to why you’ve arrived here.”

“Do people not often...come here?” He shook his head a bit and glanced out the window, recalling memories.

“People that arrive from other lands only come if they’re vastly important. The only travelers have been the former Kings and Queens.” You raised your eyebrows and looked around nervously.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet Y/N. But in the meantime I believe it would be smart for you to stay here with me until I figure it out.” You nodded.

“So I don’t believe I’ll be going back anytime soon.” He nodded.

“No, you won’t. As far as I know, you’re a danger to my land's safety, you summoner or whatever you call it.” He stood up and smiled down at you. His hair fell in front of his face gently. He had a kind face. You didn’t feel like he was a threat to you, even though he was everything but a stranger. “I’ll send someone to get you new clothes. I’m going to go and search the books to see if anything foretold you arriving.” You nodded.

“And I should just stay here?”

“I’ll have someone set you up with your own room soon. Meanwhile, stay here in mine.” You looked around at his room. There were paintings of the sea on his walls, an elegant curtain over his bed.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Of course.” ====

Some lovely ladies brought you some clothing and took away your kefta, despite your wishes. You sat in Caspians room for a while, looking out the window and snooping around peacefully. The view was gorgeous. There was something about the people here that made you feel safe.

Caspian opened the door up carefully later that night. You had fallen asleep on top of the covers of his bed. Upon seeing you he grew quiet, placing the papers he had found onto his desk. He sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off his shoes. His movement woke you up. You sat up gently, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he asked. You shrugged.

“It’s alright. I didn’t mean to drift off.” You sat up as he stood, grabbing the papers off the desk and returning to the edge of the bed. “Did you find anything?” He handed you the papers. On the parchments were some words you didn’t understand and drawings of a person who looked an awful lot like you.

“Nothing specific. Just that you were meant to come.” You looked up and met his eyes.

“But what am I here for? You’re already King, you don’t need me stomping in to rule some place I hadn’t heard of before today.” He smiled a bit.

“You’re right. We aren’t at war either, which was my next thought.” He paused. “What can you do as a Grisha?” You took a deep breath and held your hand before you. After a moment of concentrating you produced a ball of fire in your hands. Caspian’s eyes went wide. “That’s amazing.” You closed your hand into a fist and lowered it.

“I can do bigger things too. I’m not too special but I’m pretty good,” you admitted. He nodded.

“We’ll find out why you’re here.” He stood. “I have your room. It’s close, in case you need anything.” You nodded and slid off the bed.

“Thank you again, for everything. You’ve been incredibly kind.” Caspian nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back. You ignored the shiver down your spine at his touch.

“The last people who came through a wardrobe here were incredibly good friends. I hope we can be the same.”

“I’d say we’re on the right track.”

====

Weeks he spent with his head stuck in books. You always stayed with him, helping him sift through the information as best you could. He had to teach you history and you learned it easily.

“Perhaps you should get some sleep,” you told him. He was sitting at the edge of your bed, buried in books.

“Just one more,” he muttered, not looking at you. You scoffed and crawled over to him, taking the book from his hand. Out of instinct you raised your hand to his cheek. Once you had done it, it couldn’t be undone so you had to go with it. You ran your hand over his cheek and ran your hand through his hair carefully.

That got his attention. He studied your face, tracing your lips with his eyes. He felt a sudden pang of love for you. At first he thought it came out of nowhere but understood that it was a feeling he had been suppressing.

“You look exhausted. Please, the books and I will be here tomorrow.” You dropped your hand. It broke him from his trance.

“You’re right. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” You nodded and put the books on your bed onto your nightstand.

“Goodnight Caspian. Sleep tight.” He lingered at the door, holding it open, looking at you.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

=====

You spent your time at Caspians castle for months. In that time you learned more about Narnia. He visited as often as he could but he was always busy. You didn’t mind. You made some other friends and you loved walking the grounds. People treated you as though you were royalty because you were Caspians personal visitor.

It was a nice life. You missed your friends back in Ravka but not enough to run away.

And you had fallen for him. You were pretty sure it had started the second you saw him in the woods that fateful day. Though he was king and would likely never feel the same way. You didn’t mind, as long as you got to see him.

You were walking in the gardens one afternoon. It was a sunny day, the rays glistening off the flower petals. You turned a corner, coming face to face with Caspian. He was smiling, holding a red flower in his hands. He offered it to you.

“You scared me,” you said, giggling nervously. You took the flower happily. “But thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw me coming.” He gestured to the flower. “Red, like your fire.” You smiled sheepishly and smelled it.

“It smells beautiful.”

“Like you.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth in your stomach.

“You’re too kind to me Caspian.” You kept on walking. He followed you close beside as you stepped on the cobblestones together.

“My friend Lucy made these gardens when she was Queen in the golden age of Narnia. I’d say she did a wonderful job.”

“I agree.”

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the flower. You handed it to him and he placed it in your hair. You smiled sheepishly. You walked together peacefully for a few moments. You turned to him as you walked, watching his perfect peaceful features. He turned to you as well and you smiled at each other.

“I have something to tell you,” he said quietly. Your smile faltered a bit and you looked away from him.

“That doesn’t sound great.”

“We’ll see.”

“That’s not exactly promising Caspian.” He laughed a bit. He stopped walking and you turned completely to him, not able to look him in the eye.

“I think I know why you are here,” he whispered. You looked into his eyes, startled.

“You do? Well spit it out then.” He took a deep breath and raised his hand to your cheek. For a moment you were so stunned you couldn’t move. Your breathing hitched as he leaned forward slowly, letting you lean the rest of the way. You did. You kissed him carefully, your lips melting together perfectly. Your stomach erupted in butterflies, you almost weren’t able to keep yourself down. You grabbed his chin and felt your hand heating up so you had to pull away before you burnt him.

“You are meant to be Queen,” he whispered. Your eyes, which had been on his lips, quickly flicked up to his eyes.

“Is that a proposal King Caspian?” you asked, laughing in awe.

“It is if you want it to be.” You took a deep breath and took his hand off your cheek, holding it between the two of you. You watched as your fingers intertwined with his perfectly.

“Then yes. I would love to be your Queen.” Caspian had to stop himself from jumping up and down in excitement. Instead he just kissed you again.

======

The wedding was the most celebrated event that Narnia had had in quite some time. You and Caspian fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, everyone could see it. Once they realized you were there to be his, it seemed to make perfect sense.

You sat in his room the night of your wedding, looking out the window together. You leaned your back against his chest, his arms around you to hold you in place.

The festivities were still going on even though the two of you had left. Fireworks, dancing, drinks, food. You had planned enough for everyone. Caspians lips were on your head as he watched below.

“I found the page today,” he whispered.

“Huh?” He grabbed a page from his desk without moving you, placing it on your lap, on top of your white wedding dress. You picked it up. He read over your head.

“‘A stranger will come, dressed in blue. They will be the end to a single reign, they will be the glue.’ It even rhymes.” You laughed a bit. “Where was it?”

“A book that had fallen between some stacks. If only I had found it sooner.”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying my dear.” You grabbed his hand and kissed it gently, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. He started to kiss your neck, moving your hair aside. You giggled quietly. “Done watching?”

“Very done watching,” he whispered. You shivered and turned your head to kiss him.

“The honeymoon carriage doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” you whispered against his lips.

“You believe I think that matters?” he asked, chuckling. You scoffed but wrapped your arms around him, allowing him to carry you over to his bed.

====

“Don’t forget your sword!” you called.

“I’m just going on deck darling, no one will try and kill me up there,” Caspian called back. You scoffed and laid back down in the bed. The sea rocked underneath you but you had gotten used to it. Years of reign had not worn you down too much. The constant voyages though, were another story. You would never let Caspian leave alone but still, sometimes it caused you hardship.

You glanced at your shared room and then got up, deciding it was about time you got dressed for the day. You slipped on a blue jacket. Very different from your kefta but when you looked at yourself in the mirror it reminded you of it. You stared at your aged face. It had been many years since you arrived in Narnia. It was your home now. You could barely remember the vividness of Ravka and the people there.

Admittedly it took you a while to get dressed. But you didn’t think it took you that long. When you came on deck your husband was completely soaked and there were three teenagers beside him.

You raised an eyebrow and rushed up to Caspian, grabbing his shoulder.

“What on Earth did I miss?” you asked, checking to make sure he was alright.

“I decided to take a swim, that’s all.” He laughed and in that laugh you saw a reminiscence of his young self. You turned to the children.

“Who are these people? Where did they come from?” The little girl smiled brightly.

“I’m Lucy. This is Edmund and Eustance.”

“Lucy and Edmund? As in...the Lucy and Edmund?” you asked. She nodded brightly. You turned to Caspian.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” he admitted.

“Who are you?” Edmund questioned.

“This is my wife. She’s from a different world than yours and Narnia,” Caspian explained.

“Interesting!” Lucy exclaimed. She smiled brightly at you.

“I love your garden,” you found yourself saying. She laughed bubbly.

“Thank you!”

You shared a look with Caspian who simply shrugged.

=====

You sat in your home, tracing Caspians fingers with yours. He was in bed, ill and old. Years of adventuring had left him tired. He raised his hand to your wrinkled cheek.

“Thank you for coming to me,” he whispered. You shook your head and held his cheek to yours.

“I was always going to find you. I will always find you.” He nodded happily and gestured to the box beside his bed.

“Your old jacket is in there. I hid it. I didn’t want you to go away,” he said weakly.

“My kefta?”

“Yes.”

“I have no use for it anymore. I’m from Narnia. I ruled Narnia. Alongside you. Which is why you can’t leave me.” He smiled and ran his hand over your cheek again.

“Like you said, you will always find me. Think of this as only a small break before we see each other again.”

“I wouldn’t even let you leave me to sail! What makes you think I’m okay with this?” you asked quietly. He grabbed your hand and held it on his chest.

“Stop being stubborn. You have fulfilled your prophecy darling.” You shook your head.

“Come on Caspian.”

He was smiling at you when he took his last breath.

In your grief you had to be ripped away from him. You stumbled the castle grounds for a while before collapsing on his bed, his body having been taken away. Your eyes shut and sleep came to you, despite your want to stay awake and weep.

====

Your eyes opened slowly. You looked above you. It was dark. You sat up, feeling some soft cloth on your face. You sat up, walking forward and leaning against the wall you felt. It quickly fell through, revealing you had been inside a wardrobe. You rubbed your eyes at the light in the room.

The room was empty. Your head hurt.

The door swang open, revealing someone you recognized but couldn’t place.

“What are you doing? You have to be in your room before The Darkling comes so that the tailor can tend to you,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“What on Earth are you wearing?” You looked down at your clothes. It wasn’t a kefta, that was for sure. You looked back up.

“I’m sorry, I must have hit my head.” He nodded and gestured for you to follow.

You turned to the wardrobe before the door closed behind you, feeling an ache for it. Warmth and sadness and overall, love, filled your chest when you thought of it. Though you couldn’t quite place the reason.

Part 2/2

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[gloryofluv]

"Oh Baby!" Time Traveling Child? The Younger Brothers React to It Being Their Child.

The rain was absolutely horrendous so seeing a demonic version of yourself completely soaked and coddling a bundle was hard enough as it was. What the fuck? This probably is bad.

“Here! Please, I don’t have time! Take the baby, [Insert name] is the father! I’m sorry, I have to go!”

Future self. Time travel. Giant mess. Now… a toddler.

The Older Brothers with Their Child

The Dateables with Their Child (Luke's reaction to Simeon's)

Satan’s Child-

Oh, brother. If anyone, and I mean anyone, was any more excited to be a dad, it was this boi. You explain the oddity, and it doesn’t phase him on the surface, at least. Inside, his brain is moving a mile a minute. Doesn’t spew about the concept of time and reality theories. He clearly sees you’re overwhelmed.

Dad mode shifts into high gear. Creates a twelve-point plan with variances. Immediately gets on the horn with all the contacts he thinks could make both your lives easier to request returns on favors. Orders a vast amount of parenting books for pickup from the shop so he can just grab them when he runs into town for both of you.

Knows his room is definitely not the safest for the child. Books everywhere. Insistent on staying with you in yours until he organizes his room to be more child-friendly. Only leaves you two for a short period to do the shopping, comes back with more than intended.

Refuses. REFUSES Lucifer’s help. Suck it, bitch. He’s a dad first! He’s absolutely determined to master being a father even if his child grates his nerves. However, being angry with either of you is NEVER an option now. Moderate to coach, but willing to listen, especially since you’re the other parent.

Magic? Oh, yes. Especially in his room once it’s prepared for all three of you to move back into it. Cat stuffed animals. Cat-eared onesies. The child might as well be part cat. However, cats are now officially replaced as his favorite. His child is number one. You’re a very, very close second.

His child will have tantrums but be highly intelligent. Picture books, kitty cats, and his papa are the only things that quell them. Oh, and please, for the love of everything sane… be sure to have patience. That baby is going to be a master manipulator and Lucifer torturer. However, father and child will love you infallibly for eternity.

Asmodeus’s Child-

Dun, dun, dun! Plot twist! He’s so on board, and honey, you’re just the ticket for his partner in crime. Really doesn’t care how it happened after you said it was most definitely both of yours. A demon you from the future? Okay! Promises. Promises!

Probably the easiest of the brothers to convince to let you stay in your own room. Not because he doesn’t love you. No, it’s all about space! You and the baby will have your bedroom completely redecorated! Don’t even think you’re getting out of having him stay with you or having a crib in his room for nights you’re up there!

Already has a giant shopping list. Ordered and special ordered, babe. No child of his will walk around in semi-cute things! Doesn’t have a gender preference, so expect both dresses and handsome onesies. Googoo gaga for clothing. You will be pampered as well, so you best get used to trio sessions with him painting your nails while rocking his little cutie in their bouncing chair.

Super excited to take this next step. You’re officially never leaving him! Sorry, Solomon, you have replaced him indefinitely now, both of you. Just celebratory and giggly all the time, often asking his brothers to hold the baby so he can take tons of pictures. All the pictures. All the time.

A little grossed out about the changing and boogers but will do it for you and the little beautiful 'Mini Asmo.' Bath time is the best. Cuddle time, you guessed it, is the best. Everything the three of you do together is the best moment of his life, and it gets better and better. Lessons of life will be showered in sweet tips to his child. Beautiful is about living it, baby!

His baby will be a charmer, the sweetie demon who everyone falls in love with immediately. Or… he will make them. Expect your family to be chaotic in the best way. High fashion family with tons of love.

Beelzebub’s Child-

Sweet boi doesn’t get it at first. You, him, a baby? How? Lucifer specifically said that demons have to have sex to make them. Oh, this is a future thing? Wait, you both had sex? In the future?

Cue bright blush and a smile as he rubs the back of his neck. Well. Now what? Immediately asks Lucifer. Not because he’s dumb, but he really really doesn’t want to mess this up. Lucifer sits you both down and carefully designs a plan. He will follow this plan to the letter, with no variation unless you ask for it.

Very quick to hold the baby. It’s so small and definitely needs protecting. Nestled in his sweater, he’ll take it around the house while following this plan. Obviously, you can’t move in with him and Belphie, so he moves around your room with you before reluctantly leaving you and the baby behind to go shopping.

Calls Satan while out. Asks about the books he needs. What food should he buy? If Satan doesn’t have an answer, he’ll call Lucifer. Very much a concerned boi about getting this right for you and the baby. Will return home with too much food, many books, and clothing he wasn’t sure about but got it anyway.

You will have to take the lead on care. Show him. Teach him. Love him, please??? He won’t push, shove, or complain about what space you might need with this dramatic change. Just wants to be there with you and support you and the baby so badly.

Ends up sleeping in your room every night. If the baby is crying late, he’ll get up, get it a bottle, and himself a midnight snack. Talks to the baby all the time about you. He is just so happy and enraptured because he knows now you really are family, the three of you. Won’t ever yell, but will listen if you say certain rules your baby needs to follow. Strict on the routine for your sake. Great gentle dad.

His child will be sweet and gentle and likely always hungry. However, the easiest baby to care for and love. A big demon fan of yours and papa is in full support (you’ll always be protected then by him and the baby.) The sweetest, most natural family, full of love, and of course food.

Belphegor’s Child-

If you can manage to wake him. Telling him is a different type of adventure. He understands about realities, shifts in time, etc. He even gets the possibility of you being corrupted enough to become a demon. However, the child in your arms… his?

He had dreams about you being a happy family one day. Not that he wanted to be a father, per se. However, the idea of sticking it to Lucifer was there. This. Well… He wasn’t expecting it at all.

The conversation was easily a partnership about a plan. He would stay with you in your room; however, he apologized ahead of time for his lack of care. He worries about his sleepiness and affecting you and the baby. Things are ordered, items are built in record time.

The first cuddle sleep session between him and his baby is the seal of the deal. From then on, you're fucked if you think you’re going to pry that baby from his hands. Surprisingly alert about when it wakes up or needs something. (Stay at home dad??? Yep!)

He is actually less sleepy and more of an equal participant in both your lives. Shouldering much of the burden for you while letting you get precious hours of sleep at night. He carries the baby in his sweater with his pillow pressed under it. Loves hard. Really hard. This is both of your child, and he’s so fucking proud.

I repeat. You really have to pry your child from him. He is in full dad mode when he’s awake. Trips to the Planetarium, the attic, out in the garden with Beel. All the things his child needs to learn and know… yes, including all the dastardly plans he has in store for Lucifer.

Pushover for his child. Makes you be the bad guy. Often. Too much in love with both of you to give two shits about if his spawn is spoiled rotten, so does it all the time… to your greatest detriment. However, he makes it up with sweet kisses and so much love.

His child is probably the most devious. Not quite as sleepy as papa, but definitely devious. Finds ways to con Lucifer into letting them have their way and knows how often. Proud papa with so much love for the two of you. Don’t expect to ever leave their side… you’ll never be alone again, that’s for sure!

[out-of-jams]

War & Peace || jhs

↠ War & Peace ↞ “Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that was what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok had growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

But you know what they say; all’s fair in love and war.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings/Genre: Alpha!Hoseok. Omega!Reader. Enemies to lovers. ABO dynamics. Explicit language. Fluff.Slight angst. Cliché spin-the-bottle scene. Pining. They’re both annoying idiots. Competition au(?). Bad puns. Cliche Jackson throwing a party (a party ain’t a party if it ain’t a Jackson Wang party).

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

The room was abuzz.

You paused where you stood at the entrance to the Four Seasons’ Hotel ballroom. Fingers tightening around the small, black clutch bag in your hand, you let your eyes rove over expensive dresses and suits and quaffed hair and curls. At least the spaghetti strap, two piece off-white dress your mother had bought (and forced you to wear) fit the occasion quite well, so your inherent fear of accidentally standing out wouldn’t come to fruition.

Whoever had decorated the ballroom had pulled out all the stops. There were miniature chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, lights turned to a dim setting. Small-yet-cosy circular tables were spread out evenly, chairs for two either occupied or emptied. A man in a catering ensemble approached you, extending his tray of bubbly champagne. Normally you wouldn’t put alcohol of any kind into your body, but you’d make an exception just that once. You took one with a smile of thanks and swallowed a mouthful in an attempt to chase away your nerves.

When your parents had first approached you about attending the matchmaking event, you’d been wary. The events themselves weren’t rare; young adults who had yet to find a mate would go to them. They had a ninety-nine percent success rate when it came to matching you. However, you found the whole thing to be quite archaic.

It wasn’t that you were against love or finding a mate or anything like that, you just didn’t think that attaching yourself to another person for life should be so significant. You’d been too busy during college getting your degree to date anyone seriously. And you’d never felt the desire to, hadn’t needed to.

As an Omega, you were the lowest tier in the societal hierarchy. And as an unmated Omega, you were a rare commodity. It was expected for an Omega to be mated before they even reached their twenties. Something about needing to be taken care of or some other bullshit that you disagreed with. You could take perfectly good care of yourself.

But when you’d come home mateless after graduation to visit your parents before trying to find a job with your degree, they’d been concerned. Your mother, a fellow Omega, had sat you down and forced you to fill out the overly long, three hundred questionnaire for the matchmaking service. Of course, you’d rolled your eyes, but ended up relenting. You’d decided that you’d just go to the damn event, let the mysterious matchmakers do their thing, give some excuse to leave sometime in the middle of the thing, and then go home and tell your parents that you’d tried.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

Glancing down at the dark red card the size of your palm that the woman manning the check-in desk had given you, you memorized the two numbers printed on it. As if you hadn’t looked at it a few dozen times already. Just in case. You didn’t want to be there, but you weren’t about to somehow accidentally embarrass yourself either.

The flared, lace skirt of your dress brushed against your legs while you made your way through the room, eyes scanning the number placards on the table in search of your own. Some of them already had couples sitting at them, engaged in conversation and hiding shy smiles behind dainty hands. Your heels click-clacked against the shiny marble flooring as you weaved between others who were still finding their seats.

Eight, nine, ten, you mentally counted in your head, passing by the white-clothed tables. Eleven.

Your feet halted and you glanced down at your card one last time before looking up. Table twelve was already occupied, leaving a single seat left.

“Wow,” you murmured through red painted lips. He looked up at the sound of your voice, soulfully deep brown irises alighting on your form. Dark hair parted perfectly to reveal the smooth, tan skin of his forehead curled above a single one of those eyes. Heart-shaped lips that appeared soft to the touch parted in surprise. “I know you almost failed fifth grade math, but I didn’t think you were still this bad at counting.”

"I—what are you doing here?” Jung Hoseok looked so utterly bewildered that it would’ve been endearing if it had been anyone but him. He subconsciously smoothed a ringed hand down the front of his midnight black satin tux and stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

“What are you doing here?” You avoided answering his question with a raised eyebrow.

“What does it look like I’m doing here?”

“It looks like you’re sitting at my table,” you gestured at the aforementioned seat with your flute of champagne.

“No, I’m sitting at my table.” Hoseok tilted his head, sharp jawline standing out and tiny dimples revealing themselves as he pursed his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you can’t read.”

“Excuse me?” A sound of indignation sprang from the back of your throat and you dropped your clutch on the table in order to flip around the tiny card in your hand. The number twelve was embedded on it in swirling, looping gold font. “Now move.”

He did not, in fact, move. He just sat there like an impressive impersonation of a statue. The only part of him that moved was when those espresso hued eyes of his widened in either surprise or shock, you didn’t know. Nor did you care. Or at least you hadn’t until he slowly lifted a hand to show you his own card with the number twelve printed on it.

And then you too, did the best performance you could muster at being frozen solid. As if the universe was attempting to prove that the two of you had, in fact, been matched together, your voices harmonized as you spoke at the same exact time:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.”

                  (Seventeen years ago)

Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled, and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that’s what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

The kindergarten classroom had been packed with screaming, rambunctious toddlers. It was an important time in every child’s life — not because that was the age where friendships first began; it was when nature started to reveal itself. When the part of the brain in charge of scent glands that separated the Alphas from the Betas from the Omegas developed.

You’d been relegated to one of the tables in the corner with all the rest of the soft, floral smelling, shy Omegas. Until the green colored crayon you’d been using to smear across your paper in an attempt at drawing the vast forest outside ran out. The closest resupply of your writing instrument had been lying all the way across the room on one of the empty tables.

Of course, because fate was nothing but a bitch, your quick hands snatched the crayon box up point-two seconds before a pouting Jung Hoseok could. He’d looked at you with those gentle, chocolate brown eyes of his, and then the first words he’d ever spoken to you passed his heart shaped lips.

“Hey, give it!”

And yours to him. “No way! I got them first, loser!”

The rounded apples of his cheeks puffed up with a scowl, jaw clenched. If he’d been taller than you, maybe he would’ve been intimidating. But to you, he’d just looked like a fluffed up chicken.

“Well, you’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha, so you gotta do what I say,” his tongue fumbled over the larger words and he crossed his arms over his chest with a look that told you he thought he’d just won the battle.

“Make me,” scoffing, you leveled him with a glare and waved the box of crayons under his perfectly straight nose.

“Fine.” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Give them.” His dark irises flashed gold as he laced his words with the power of an Alpha Command.

If he were older and had more of a grip over his powers, perhaps you would’ve felt compelled. But the only thing that overcame you was annoyance. Your fingers tightened around the box; your arm cocked back. “Fine.”

And it went careening straight into his forehead with a crack! that had all heads in the room turning to look back. Sticking your nose in the air, you slipped your stolen green crayon into your dress pocket and skipped back to your table.

That was when your rivalry first started.

And the war began.

Eleven years later and the whole town knew of your blatant dislike for one another. It was difficult not to when the moment the two of you entered the same room, you were immediately at each other’s throats. Some of the older, more set-in-their-ways Alphas frowned upon your rivalry with Jung Hoseok. Though they were more annoyed at the fact that he never used his Alpha Compulsion to “put his mouthy Omega in her place” than anything else.

His. Hearing them call you his never failed to absolutely infuriate you. Like you were nothing other than a piece of property. Like you belonged to the one person in the world who you despised the most. Like you could belong to anyone at all.

Omegas were supposed to cow to Betas, and above all, Alphas. The hierarchy had been around since the beginning of time. Since Alphrina, the goddess of all mankind, had created the first Alpha in her image. They were the strongest of the Three, Betas coming in second and Omegas last.

If Hoseok had been like any other Alpha, then he probably would’ve long since made you submit to him. But he never had. Lisa, your childhood best friend and the town’s most popular female Alpha, had theorized that maybe he just didn’t know how to use his Alpha powers. But you knew better. His pride would never recover if he’d been forced to Compel you into listening to him.

Not even after you’d paid Jeon Jungkook a hefty sum to switch Hoseok’s shampoo bottle during the football team’s after practice shower with a similar one you’d filled with green hair dye back in high school. He’d stormed up to your locker the next day, cheeks aflame with rage and jaw clenched while he spat out (true) accusations.

But he’d had no proof that you’d been the one to make him look like a very festive Christmas tree, what with the already bright red strands of his hair stained with streaks of green. You’d thoroughly made sure that Jungkook would do it while the team was actually showering, so the soap and hot water would wash away any lingering scent of the culprit.

Hoseok had gotten you back, of course, by sticking a huge glob of chewing gum in your hair after you’d fallen asleep on your desk during history class. You’d cried for two days straight after your mom had to chop off your long locks into a shoulder length bob. And the cycle repeated itself with you taking revenge by stealing the janitor’s keys after school, and hiding a dead fish in Hoseok’s locker to decompose over the two week long Christmas break.

At least your rivalry had stopped anyone else from trying to mess with you due to your Omega status. Either they’d been too afraid of stepping on Hoseok’s toes, or had just been way too entertained by your antics, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t complaining, not when you saw how the other Omega’s in your school had been treated.

It hadn’t been good.

At all.

Suffice to say, maybe you would be somewhat grateful for Hoseok if you didn’t despise his existence so much.

You blamed your last weekend of your high school career for implanting the seed into your mind. For flip-turning your opinion of Jung Hoseok right upside down. Not that you’d exactly noticed it at first; it’d just kickstarted the slow sliver of doubt that began to fester.

Partying wasn’t usually your thing. You didn’t have anything against it, nor the people that chose to do so, you just refused to partake in anything that could alter your state of mind. Because being an Omega not in full control of yourself was a dangerous thing to be. But it was the end of mandated schooling and a very important milestone that deserved celebrating.

Which was the exact argument that Lisa had used in order to convince you to go with her and Jennie (a Beta and the most recent addition to your friend group) to the after graduation party. Jackson Wang’s house was unnecessarily massive, most likely due to both of his Alpha parents being on the city council. He’d somehow been able to convince them to take a weekend vacation and leave the estate in his (ir)responsible hands.

By the time you pulled up with both of your friends, the party was in full swing. Cars littered the curved driveway all the way down to the street below. (And seeing as how the Wang Estate was fifty acres, that was a long way down.) Music poured out from the opened front doors, heavy bass rattling the windows of Lisa’s Nissan.

You pressed your nose against the passenger side glass with a grimace. Fiddling with the overly tight dress that Jennie had forced you into, you sighed deeply.

“Oh, come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” Jennie leaned forward from the backseat to cheer encouragingly.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you argued and finally turned away from the steadily approaching mansion.

“You didn’t have to. You have that I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Here face,” Lisa spoke up from the driver’s seat, eyes intently focused on finding a parking spot.

You snorted. “That’s because I don’t. Being surrounded by loud, drunk Alphas and Betas isn’t the most appealing way to spend my Friday night, thank you very much.”  

“We already told you that we’re going to watch out for you tonight.” Lisa made a noise in the back of her throat when she finally found somewhere to leave her vehicle.

“Exactly. Remember what happened last time some asshole Beta harassed you?”

“You mean the time Lisa almost got arrested when she fought that guy in the McDonald’s line?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“I’m still mad I never got my McDouble,” Lisa sighed forlornly and cut the engine to her car.

“All you think about is food,” Jennie laughed, quickly scrambling out of the car before Lisa could turn around and swat at her leg.

“Well, she’s not wrong.” The only thing that saved you from your best friend’s wrath was the fact that you were faster than she was.

Inside the house was just as you’d expected: crowded, loud, so many smells and sounds that had your heightened senses almost crying from overstimulation. You followed Jennie and Lisa to the kitchen for them to make themselves drinks (and to snatch up a can of soda for yourself).

Somehow, somehow, your night ended up with Lisa shoving her tongue down some poor Beta’s throat, and you stuck sitting in a circle in the basement of Jackson Wang’s overly large house. Playing a game of spin-the-bottle with a group of people that you barely knew. Well, most of them anyway.

And you hadn’t intended to play at all, hadn’t had any interest in it, but one look at your mortal enemy’s shit-eating grin sitting across from you had made you stop yourself right before you bowed out. Because you knew for a damn fact that if you’d tried, he would’ve ended up saying something to try and embarrass you.

So instead, you reached out and watched intently as the beer bottle spun around and around and around and around. The green hue of the glass gleamed beneath the dim, blue lights in the basement tauntingly. Everything slowed down, your heartbeat thundered in your eardrums, the music faded into the background. You thought it’d never stop.

Until it did.

A hush fell around the group as you sluggishly trailed your eyes upwards and locked them onto your apparent make-out partner. Fate was a bitch and your life was nothing but a cosmic joke. Because of course, of course, clichés wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t clichés.

And god you hated clichés.

“Ew no,” slipped out of your mouth unhindered before you could even think to form the syllables.

Directly across the circle, Hoseok raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. (You hated he looked so good even when his hair was such an obnoxious and unflattering shade of red.) That annoying, self-assured smirk tugged at the corner of his coral hued, heart-shaped mouth. “Afraid?”

Everyone around the circle had fallen silent, choosing to sit back and watch the drama unfold instead of talking over it. Like you were some kind of live entertainment, their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of you. So when you scoffed, it was loud enough that every ear could hear it.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t want you touching me because you’ve slept with so many people. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Careful, you sound a little jealous there, L/n.” A second eyebrow jumped up to join the first and Hoseok leaned his weight forward. That insufferable smirk grew.

“Jealous?” Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “As if I’d ever be jealous of anything involving you, Jung.”

“It’s okay to admit it,” he shrugged casually. “If you ask me, I think it’s kind of flattering. Sad and a little pathetic, but flattering.”

“What would I possibly be jealous of? Didn’t you have an STD last month?” You shot back with an unamused snort.

He did that thing again where the apples of his cheeks puffed up and his mouth pursed. While that expression had made him appear very non-intimidating in the past, with puberty had come the sharpening of his jawline and the development of high cheekbones. Maybe if it were any other Alpha looking at you like that, your inner Omega would’ve been cowering. But witnessing someone pee their pants and then cry about it in the first grade tended to make it impossible to see them as menacing.

“That was just a rumor!” Hoseok glared, face beginning to pink beneath the stares of everyone in the room.

“That’s not what Sulgi said,” you hummed. “Yikes.”

“You—”

“As entertaining as this foreplay is to watch,” Jackson’s deep voice piped up, leaning back on his hands from where he sat between two girls you didn’t recognize. “I’d like to take my turn sometime tonight. So either kiss or go fight out in the parking lot, I don’t care.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, more than likely contemplating arguing with the party host (you knew he didn’t like being ordered around, especially by another Alpha), before a spark of mischievous amusement lit up his mocha colored irises and he turned back to you, head tilted. “I would love to move on, but L/n over here is too afraid to.”

Your lip curled. “I already told you that I—”

“Nervous then? I bet that you haven’t even been kissed before, have you?”

Even though he was correct, you refused to allow him to know it. So you’d never kissed someone before, who cared? People graduated high school all the time without locking lips with someone else. And it wasn’t like you’d never had the chance to—you’d had plenty of dating offers—you’d just never found any of them worthy enough to kiss. That was it.

Not that Jung Hoseok needed to know that.

So you lied.

“Of course I have.”

“Oh really.” It wasn’t a question. “Who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you sniffed.

Hoseok looked like a wolf right before it pounced on its prey: smug. “Then what’s the problem then? Afraid you’d like it?”

“Wow, I don’t know how you fit through the door with your ego as inflated as it is. Like I’d ever enjoy kissing you. It took Sulgi months to shut up about how bad you are at it.”

His haughty expression dropped from his face and his stare darkened at the blatant insult. You realized your mistake the very moment that the challenge sparked within his eyes. He stood slowly, gaze locked on your own as he stepped over the bottle in the middle of the floor. When he reached you, his hand shot down and grasped onto your upper arm, lifting you from your cross-legged seat and onto the soles of your shoes.

“Wha—” He cut off your indignant protest with his mouth before it could fully form.

The last thing you ever would have expected was for Jung Hoseok to kiss you, let alone softly. For his mouth to press against yours with just enough pressure to be labeled as delicate—like the tickling of butterfly wings. He trapped your bottom lip between both of his, slender fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck. You shouldn’t have let him touch the most sensitive part of your body. Shouldn’t have instinctively liked it.

Shouldn’t have let your eyes flutter closed and kissed him back. But you were too wrapped up in his strong scent, the warmth of his skin, the gentle exhaling of air as he breathed, the lingering taste of the alcohol from his emptied cup. One kiss turned into two, into three, into four. Until your hands came up to grasp the material of his shirt between your fingers.

Jung Hoseok kissed you like you’d always wanted to be kissed. Slowly and softly and warmly. When his tongue slipped between your lips and touched yours, it wasn’t with the roughness of someone trying to take control. It was a dance; one where he took the lead subtly and you willingly let him do it.

His hand on your arm found your waist and pulled you close, pressed your fronts together until there was no longer any space separating you. A sigh escaped when his tongue brushed against yours more firmly, more determined to have you melting and pliant beneath his touch. Until you had to swallow a whimper when he finally pulled away.

He didn’t go far, just enough to look at you down the slope of his straight nose, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy and mouth kiss-swollen. You hated him then, in that moment, more than you ever had before. Hated him for stealing your first kiss. Hated him for making you want to lean forward and pull him back until you could no longer breathe. Hated him for dropping his hands from your heated skin with a wink and that knowing smirk of his.

Hated him.

The rest of the game had been a blur after that. You’d sat back down between Jennie (ignoring her imploring expression) and a Beta whom you couldn’t even process the face of. You didn’t spin again, had been content to just sit next to your friend and sip at your almost empty can of soda.

And you hated, hated, hated yourself for noticing that Hoseok never took another turn either.

                           (Present Time)

You’d been content with the fact that you’d never have to see your rival again after that night. With high school finally over, you would be going off to college on the other side of the country and would finally be free. To say that you’d been ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. There would be no more biting comments aimed at you in the hallway, no more having to be paranoid about being the victim of another of Hoseok and his friend’s pranks.

No more Hoseok.

It had been a glorious, stress-free (to an extent) four years of your life. Both Lisa and Jennie had applied to and been accepted to the same university as you, so you’d split the rent three ways and moved in together. City life had been a difficult adjustment, a culture shock, but now you were used to it and absolutely loved it.

Which meant that fate had to come around and fuck things up.

Silence had fallen between both you and Hoseok. All around you, couples sitting at the other tables in the expansive ballroom were jabbering away, getting to know one another to see how compatible they were. Laughter and glasses clinking harmonized together with the gentle music playing from the hotel speakers hidden somewhere you couldn’t see.

You’d collapsed bonelessly into your seat after the shock of being matchmade with your mortal enemy wore off. Now you were just annoyed. At your parents for making you go to the stupid thing, at yourself for not lying on your questionnaire, at the universe for existing. At Hoseok for existing. There was a lot to process.

Obviously, the matchmaking service was flawed, false, fake, inaccurate. And you were glad that you hadn’t been excited for the event in the first place, because you would’ve been dead by now. Reason of death? Disappointment. How in the world someone could think you and Hoseok were compatible at all was a complete mystery to you.

Glancing up from where you’d been glaring at your still half full flute of champagne, you eyed your unwelcome companion. Hoseok was looking out into the crowded room, stare blank as his mind went somewhere you had no interest in trying to follow even if you could. Four years had passed since you’d last laid eyes on him and in that time he’d changed physically, but also still looked the same.

No longer was he the teenager who’d yet to grow into his cheekbones, though he still had those broad shoulders and large hands and muscular-yet-slim athletic build. He’d always been handsome—not that you’d ever tell him that, even if your life was at stake—and his looks had only matured. Hoseok was all angles and sharp lines and deep set eyes framed by long lashes that always made you secretly jealous.

Which only fueled your puzzlement.

“Why are you here?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through his mind and turned back to you. “What?”

“Why are you here,” you asked slowly, tongue spelling out each of the syllables like he couldn’t understand you otherwise.

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we already had this conversation.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. “I meant here as in this stupid event looking for a mate, not this stupid table.”

“Why are you? Already scared off everyone on the other side of the country with your annoying personality?” Four years later and he still had that infuriating smirk, that quirk of his lips that had your blood pressure instantly spiking.

“Are you here because you’ve slept with the whole town already?”

Humming, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in fake contemplation. “Your jealousy is showing again, L/n.”

“Your inflated ego is showing again, Jung.”

“Oh? If I’m recalling correctly, that’s exactly what you said years ago, right before you slobbered all over my chin.”

“Me? Me? Says the one who—”

“Could I have everyone’s attention please?” A woman’s voice cut through your heated response. Somewhere between the time the conversation had first begun and now, both you and Hoseok had gone from putting as much distance between the two of you as possible, to practically falling on top of the table to spew insults at one another.

With one last glare, you turned to look over your shoulder at the well-dressed blonde woman standing on the stage near the front. The material of her designer jumpsuit shimmered beneath the lights as her manicured hand held a microphone to her glossy, smiling lips. “Hello everyone! I’d like to welcome you to this year’s MateMaking—”

Hoseok’s quiet scoff echoed your own at the sound of the horribly unwitty play on words. His annoyed scowl also mirrored yours when you turned back to throw him one.

“—event! I can see that everyone has already found their mate-tastic partners for the evening.” She winked, earning a few light, nervous giggles from the crowd. “There are a few house rules that we must go over before we can officially begin. For starters, there will be no exchanging of partners. Secondly, a limit of two alcoholic beverages per person has and will be implemented. And last but not least, please make sure to enjoy yourselves! Now, onto the mate—” another wink “—event.”

“The grand prize for the lucky couple who wins tonight’s competition has been graciously donated by the Four Seasons Hotel.” She held up her fingers as she listed them, but you were too busy hanging onto her previous statement. “A free, one night stay in the penthouse suite tonight, an unlimited tab at the bar down the hall, and,” she paused in an attempt to build up the anticipation. “Eight hundred dollars cash.”

“Competition,” you questioned under your breath. What the hell did she mean by that? Wasn’t the whole event supposed to just be a glorified blind date? You threw a glance over your shoulder at Hoseok, who was too busy mouthing the words “eight hundred dollars” to pay you any attention.

“Now if you could all please leave your seats and gather onto the dance floor with your partner, we can begin.” The sound of chairs pushing back from tables echoed around the room and you watched as the people closest to the large opening in the middle of the floor started congregating.

Confused, you blindly rose to your feet and looked to see Hoseok doing the same. “What the hell is going on? I thought this was supposed to be about matchmaking?”

He blinked once, twice, before a laugh bubbled up his throat. “Did you not read the details of the event?”

“What details?” Your cheeks were slowly turning pink in embarrassment, you could feel it, and also couldn’t help it.

“You’re really telling me that you missed the giant, bold letters on the website?”

“What bold letters?” Weaving through the emptying tables, you tried your best to keep up with him on your shorter legs.

Hoseok tutted. “And you always tried to say that I was the stupid one.” He looked down at you once he finally found a spot on the floor that he liked, humor dancing across his face. You were just far away enough from the two coupled next to you that you couldn’t hear their conversations without trying to eavesdrop.

Annoyed, you smacked a hand against his arm and hissed, “Just tell me, asshole!”

“Owch.” He rubbed where you’d hit him, faking a grimace like you’d ever be able to actually hurt him. “Is that how you talk to someone you’re trying to get to help you?”

Your mouth opened to let out another string of character attacking profanities, but he halted them by holding up a hand. “This is a matchmaking event, but it’s also a competition. One that I’m not going to lose, not with that prize money on the line.”

“Oh,” you responded. Well, that explained some of it, but. “We.”

“What?”

“One that we’re not gonna lose,” you corrected him, mind already reeling with what you could use all of that cash for. “We win and split the money.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to split it with you?” A raise of his eyebrow.

A roll of your eyes. “Like you have any other choice. Do you see any other person you can impose your irritating presence on?”

A pause in the air. Pursed lips. Then: “Fine.”

“Fine.”

An agreement.

A temporary ceasefire just in time for one of the workers of the event to reach your side and gift the two of you with a bright green, inflated balloon. He walked off with the parting instructions not to pop it before making his way down the line and giving one to each couple he passed.

“The first stage of tonight’s competition,” the woman MCing (you were pretty sure she’d introduced herself, you’d just hadn’t been paying attention) addressed the crowd. “Is a slow dance to test you and your partner’s ability to be gentle with one another, both with the body and the heart. You must take the balloons that you have and put it in between your bodies.

“Whenever you hear the music change, you and your partner must step closer to each other. The last seven out of our ten couples that succeed in not popping the balloon or letting it fall to the ground will move on to the next round. Those of you who do not pass, will be shown to the bar across the hall to better get acquainted. Let us begin! Don’t be shy, everyone get into position.”

A few chuckles filtered throughout the room, balloons squeaking and strangers lightly conversing as they tried to follow the instructions. You looked up at Hoseok who looked back down at you with the medium sized balloon clutched in his hand.

He tilted his head to the side and wiggled the piece of rubber and hot air. “Are you going to come closer or not? Don’t pretend like you don’t want to touch me.”

“Trust me when I say that I don’t have to pretend,” you huffed, but stepped closer. One of his hands shot out to wrap around your waist, long slender fingers spreading across the whole expanse of the small of your back. You did your best to ignore the heat that bled from his body like a leech, and placed your left hand on his right shoulder.

With the balloon now firmly in place between the two of you, Hoseok took up your free hand with his just in time for the music to start pouring over the speakers. It wasn’t anything that you recognized—some indie song where the singer crooned lyrics about love or beauty or whatever. You didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“You better not step on my feet,” you spoke as the two of you swayed side to side, just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for the slow dancing couples around you.

“Me? Step on your feet?” Hoseok gave you a look of disbelief. “Aren’t you the one who broke Felix Lee’s foot at prom?”

“No.” At the raising of his brows, you rolled your eyes and looked at some point over his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to meet his skeptical stare. “Okay, so maybe.” — he snorted — “But that had nothing to do with dancing!”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, L/n.”

“And you’ve always been horrible at telling the truth, Jung.” The song changed into something a little more upbeat, one you thought you might have heard a time or two. Unfortunately, you had to step an inch closer to the man steadily guiding you around the dance floor.

A pop! resounded from the other side of the room as the first couple was eliminated. Squeaking from the balloon cushioned between both of your chests had your conversation pausing for a moment before it picked back up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what it means.”

“Believe it or not, L/n,” Hoseok began, “But I would never claim to know what goes on in that cluttered mind of yours.”

“I—wait,” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know who I went to prom with?”

His mouth opened and closed, obviously ready to swing at you with another comeback before your question caught him off guard. “What?”

“How did you know that I went to prom with Felix?” Another change of the song had you automatically taking another step forward. “I thought you didn’t go to prom.”

“How did you know that I didn’t go to prom?” Hoseok fired back, avoiding the question.

“Oh, please,” you took a breath through your mouth and immediately regretted it when his strong, husky scent invaded your senses and lingered on your tongue. “If you were there, you would’ve been up my ass all night.”

“Now who’s the one with the inflated ego? Everyone was talking about how you’d stomped on him with your ogre feet the next day of school.” He didn’t make eye contact when you looked back at him, his gaze trailing over your head.

You raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the horrible liar?”

“I’m not lying.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Liar.”

“Truther.”

“Truth— what — what even is that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Which is?”

Hoseok’s lips pulled back into a grin, tiny dimples popping into place and white teeth kissing the air. “A truther.”

“You’re so annoying,” the words were supposed to sound annoyed, but you couldn’t help the amused upwards twitch of your mouth.

“I don’t think you have any room to talk, sweetheart.”

You blinked at the pet name. That was new. “Sweetheart?”

Hoseok didn’t respond right away. He just stared down at you past his perfectly shaped nose, dark eyelashes framing brushing the apples of his cheeks. And for the first time in as long as you could remember, you realized that you couldn’t read the thoughts lingering behind his softly bright eyes. Silence lingered for one moment, two, and then his heart shaped lips parted and—

Pop!

You started, jerking back in surprise and Hoseok’s grip on you was the only thing that prevented your balloon from falling to the floor. Pop! Next to you, a couple let out noises of disappointment as they watched the remnants of their popped balloon scatter beneath their feet. They must have frightened another pair of people in the center of the dance floor because theirs popped as well.

“And that concludes our first round!” The MC spoke out over the crowd. “Congratulations to those who have made it though. Now let’s see if your luck persists during round two!”

You looked at Hoseok and he looked back, previously open expression dropped. No words were exchanged, but you already knew that the conversation would be dropped.

Hoseok’s back was warm from where it pressed up against yours, the chairs you sat in doing nothing to stop it from seeping into your skin. In your hands was a tablet, screen displaying the game that the two of you were about to play. The goal was to “defuse a bomb” by following the manual filled with instructions. Which sounded easy in retrospect, but seeing as how the only way you could get said instructions was by Hoseok reading them off the packet in his grasp.

You weren’t allowed to look at the manual, and he wasn’t allowed to look at the tablet screen. And somehow, some way, you were supposed to “defuse the bomb” in five minutes. The MC had said something about testing your ability to communicate with one another, blah, blah, blah. All you knew was that there was no way you were going to lose the stupid competition.

Even if you had to deal with Hoseok’s frustrated grumbling.

“Just tell me which wire I need to cut, Jung!” Or perhaps it was you who was doing the frustrated grumbling. But eh, semantics. The tablet screen was displaying a section of the “bomb” that had four wires criss-crossing one another and you were only allowed to ��cut” one of them.

“I already told you,” Hoseok grunted. “The blue one.”

“There’s two blue ones!”

“Then cut the one that’s more blue!”

“They’re the same color you idiot!”

“Stop yelling, I’m trying to read!” He huffed, the sound of paper turning accompanying it. Around the room, the noise level was a cacophony of people talking over one another. The closer the five minutes got to being over, the higher the voices rose. “It says, ‘if there is a red wire—’”

“I only have two blue’s and two white’s!”

“Cut the first blue wire then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, L/n.”

“Fine.” A pause as you tapped on the screen and waited for it to do something. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie—oh wait, no, there’s a little x on the screen. Okay I think we’re good with that one.” You didn’t even have to look back to see Hoseok’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Now it’s showing a square with four different symbols inside it. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hold on.” He shuffled his papers in search of the next set of instructions. “Okay, it says ‘always press symbols higher in the column than lower in the column.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“How am I supposed to know? Do I look like the game designer?”

“You’re an Alpha, aren’t you supposed to have great leadership skills or something?”

“What does that even have to do with this?”

“Just give me the damn instructions, Jung!”

“You’re so pushy. No wonder you’re still single.” Hoseok didn’t give you a chance to respond to his jibe before he continued. “Push the symbol of the pitchfork first, then,” he halted for a second, more than likely trying to find his next words before continuing. “Press the one that looks like a pregnant letter T.”

“A what?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about!”

You scrutinized the symbols before going with the one he described, not that you’d ever tell him it was pretty accurate. “Now what?”

“Next is the one that looks like a football goal.” (“God, you’re such a jock.”) “And then push the last one.”

Your finger tapped the screen and a noise escaped your throat when all of the panels on the “bomb” turned green and the timer stopped counting down. “Oh, hell yes!”

“What? Did we beat it?” Hoseok’s head tilted in your direction without him actually having to look back at you.

“Fuck yeah!” Okay, so maybe you were shouting a little too loudly and maybe all of the other couples who had yet to finish the game were giving you looks, but it wasn’t your fault that you were the first team to win.

“Yeah?” Hoseok finally turned to face you, torso twisting in his chair in order to do so. His face was lit up in excitement, the adrenaline of trying to complete the game sparking to life in his beautifully expressive brown eyes.

“Yeah!” It was unusual for an Omega to be competitive, but you couldn’t help your inherent desire to win. If you were to analyse it, a therapist would probably say that it was more than likely due to growing up competing with the man who sat at your back. (But you weren’t a therapist.)

You weren’t sure who went for it first, who moved, who decided to cross that boundary. But one moment you were looking up at his face, and the next your nose was pressed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Hoseok’s arm was wrapped around your upper back and both of yours were loops around his neck.

The celebratory hug didn’t last long, just enough for his scent — gentle and earthy like petrichor right before it rained — before the both of you pulled away like you’d been electrocuted. An awkward silence followed the accidental physical contact and you weren’t sure where you were supposed to look. But it wasn’t at him.

And you definitely did not miss the feeling of being pressed to his chest.

(Or maybe Hoseok was right and you were a terrible liar. Even to yourself.)

The second round had eliminated a majority of the remaining contestants. Now all that was left were you and Hoseok, a petite woman with a contrastingly tall man, and two average height men. Since your team had come in first place during the last round, you were relegated to nonsensically going last in the final one. With the previous eliminated couples allowed back into the ballroom, you had quite the audience.

Sitting in another chair in the middle of the dance floor, you fiddled with the whiteboard and marker in your hands. You were facing Hoseok so the two of you couldn’t cheat by looking at what the other person was writing. The MC stood between and a little behind both of you, lips pulled up into a smile as she held a stack of cards in her hand.

You’d only ever seen this game played at the weddings of family members you’d gone to over the years, so why they’d chosen to have to (what they thought) complete strangers play it was a mystery to you. Something about “getting to know one another” and “testing compatibility” bullshit and the couple who got the highest answers correct was the winner.

Whatever.

When the MC asked her first question, you were ready.

“Okay, let’s begin! First question, write down which one of the two of you that you believe owns more clothes than the other.” Holding back an eye roll, you quickly scribbled down your answer with the dry-erase marker at the same time that Hoseok did. “Now show us your boards!”

You turned yours with a flick of your wrist, Hoseok’s name written across the surface in ink. It came as no surprise at all that he’d also penned himself down; he’d always been on top of all of the trends in the fashion world so you knew for a fact that his closet greatly exceeded yours.

“Would you look at that!” The MC crowed. “Already so in sync!”

(Unbeknownst to you both, your faces mirrored the same grimace as you erased your boards.)

“Second question: who do you believe is the most stubborn?”

That one took a bit more thought, your eyes flickering up to watch as Hoseok easily scrawled on his board. You already knew what he was going to write and you wanted to win, and you’d do whatever it took to do so. Even if it meant admitting something that wasn’t true.

At the MC’s cue, your boards flipped around to display your name written down on both of them. You glared. The crowd aw’d. The MC squealed at how “you were on the same wavelength.”

“Who’s most likely to cry during a movie?” Hoseok.

“Who do you think is the smartest.” You (much to your surprise that he wrote that down).

“Who has to have the final word during an argument?” You. That one took a little longer to decide with the two of you eyeing each other over the tops of your boards.

“Who got better grades in school?” A snort and the sound of your marker dragging across the board to scribble your own name down.

“Who’s the better dancer?” Hoseok, of course. Who could forget him dancing in the school hallways early in the morning before people even deigned to enter the place?

“If you were to become a couple, who would wear the pants in the relationship.” That question had you glaring and fingers cramping as you dug the tip of the marker into the board. Both was scribbled down on each.

“How about this one: who do you think is the better kisser?” The time in Jackson Wang’s basement popped to the forefront of your mind. It’d been years, but you could still remember the feel of Hoseok’s lips moving against yours and the taste of him on your tongue. You paused, marker hovering over the board before you took a deep, silent breath and wrote your answer down.

That was the first question that the two of you got wrong. With his board displaying your name and yours displaying his, all you could do was stare. Hoseok’s mouth was pressed into a line, not one of his angry ones, but the one he would unconsciously do whenever he was thinking hard on something. You weren’t sure what it was, nor did you have the time to try and figure it out.

“Aw, the first question they’ve gotten wrong. Or did they get it right?” Cue a wink from the MC and a few chuckles from the crowd. “How about we get a little more serious with the final question, hm? Who do you believe would be the first to fall in love with the other?”

You were positive that that would be the second question the two of you would get wrong, but you wrote your answer down anyway. When the cue came to flip them over, you felt your heart stutter. Lips part in surprise. Breath catch in your throat.

Hoseok looked at you with his lips pressed in that thin line, espresso hued, deep set eyes displaying an emotion that you’d never seen before. Never thought would be aimed at you. The whiteboard clutched between your hands shook as you read his over and over and wondered at what it meant (and if you were going to lie to yourself again).

Hoseok was written down on both of your boards, much to the delight of the onlookers.

The MC announcing that the game was complete and that you and Hoseok were the winners was a blur. The cheers from the crowd were a blur. The way the MC held both of your hands as she congratulated you and gifted you with your prizes was a blur.

Hoseok’s refusal to look at you was the only thing that was crystal clear. His back, his broad shoulders cloaked in his black satin tuxedo jacket, the nape of his neck, were the only things you could see. You didn’t get the chance to even speak to him until the elevator doors leading up to the penthouse slid shut.

The MC had sent you off with the key and a wink and a promise that the aforementioned eight hundred dollars was awaiting the two of you in the penthouse suite. Silence engulfed the steel box as it ascended that was neither awkward, nor tense—just heavy. You couldn’t stand it. So you wouldn’t.

“Hoseok.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, back braced against the elevator wall.

“Why did you write your name down for that question?”

“Which one? There were dozens.”

“You still suck at telling the truth.”

A pause hovered in the air, the red digital numbers above the elevator continuing to count upwards. And then he spoke. “I was telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok laughed breathily. Not of amusement, not of someone who’d found something particularly funny. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so all you could do was nod.

“I’d been wanting to kiss you since you threw that box of crayons at my head.” He turned to look at you, eyes deep and open and luminescent. “And I’ve been thinking about doing it again ever since that game of spin-the-bottle.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words stuck in your throat until you forced yourself to cough them out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

He scoffed. “Why would I? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hoseok.” The syllables of his first name were unfamiliar on your tongue, but you loved the taste of them anyway. “I’ve never hated you.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

“Okay, no, that was a lie,” you mumbled. “I didn’t hate you until after that kiss. But it was only because I’d never wanted it to end.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” You shot back without any heat.

“Maybe,” he hummed, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours. That was the only warning you got before he captured your mouth with his. Hoseok’s lips were just as soft as you remembered, his kiss just as slow, taste just as intoxicating. You involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip and tugged.

“I love you,” he breathed into the crevice of your neck.

You sighed. A soft, gentle thing that had the corners of his mouth ticking upwards. “I love you too.”

A pause and then:

“Even though you’re annoying.”

Hoseok’s laugh shook both his frame and yours and you couldn’t help the giggle that harmonized.

tagged: @kotaevln​ @ladyartemesia @alana-ba @lifegoesondotcom @ardoren @awsome-small-k @chimchimsauce @jjamsbangtan @ohheyitssj @bewitch-me @lovetic @veronawrites @lilacdreams-00 @clarissalance​ @daydreambrliever @unicornbabylover @taestannie​ @forever-once-gone @outrofenty @hoseokslefteyebrow @1am9root6 @btsmylife21 @fireheart2003 @iv-bts

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 21

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 3)

Yao Qianjin had quite a temperament. When she got back, she didn't even think about eating and went straight to pestering her father to inquire about Chen Bohuan. Although Chen Bohuan was already married, it was done behind closed doors. Who knew about it? Even when their marriage had been arranged, the town never knew about their relationship.

So Yao Qianjin learned that the eldest Chen son "wasn't married yet."

The county magistrate made several inquiries and found that Xiao Chen was capable, gentle-tempered, and his familial situation was good, so he sent someone to talk to the Chen family about the marriage.

Mr. Chen was filled with regret. They politely told the county magistrate they would think about it first. They closed the door and the two old people immediately started to quarrel.

Mr. Chen said: "Look what you've done! The poor scholar died early and his daughter should have mourned him for three years. If you hadn't been in such a hurry for them to get married, our son wouldn't have to regret it now! Look at what happened!"

Madam Chen was also anxious: "You're blaming me? Weren't you the one who wanted to arrange the marriage in the first place? Now there's a better option: the daughter of the county magistrate! Can. . . can Luo Xianxian compare to that?"

The two elders closed the door and quarrelled until they were red in the face. At the end of the quarrel, they were exhausted and panting across the table from each other.

Mr. Chen asked: "What should we do? Should we call back the magistrate?"

Madam Chen said: ". . . We can't do that. Our family is relying on Yao Qianjin's money."

Mr. Chen said angrily: "Then will the daughter of the Yao family be a concubine? Will she? Our son already has somebody, how can we add another? Look at how in love they are!"

". . ." Madam Chen didn't say anything for a while. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she murmured, "If you think about Luo Xianxian and our son, except for our family, no one knows about them. . ."

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Chen was shocked when he suddenly understood his wife's intentions.

He was trembling, half from panic, half from anger.

"You - you mean. . ."

"If no one knows about it, it doesn't count as a real marriage." Madam Chen said. "Let's try to find a way to get rid of her. We can do whatever it takes. All the surrounding villages think he's unmarried. Do you remember how she stole oranges from us as a child? As long as we all stick to that story, no one would believe her word over ours!"

Mr. Chen strode to the door, confirmed that the door was closed tightly, and hurriedly rushed over. The two people who had been arguing like two chickens in a cockfight were nestled together again, quietly lowering their voices, and discussed.

Mr. Chen said: "This method of you, I'm afraid it won't work."

"What's wrong?"

"Our son won't agree. He's had a crush on Luo Xianxian his whole life. Why would he agree to drive her away for someone else?"

Madam Chen thought for a while. She patted her husband's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After a while, Madam Chen suddenly became seriously ill. It was a strange illness. The doctor couldn't explain the reason, but she just would have fits all day and talked nonsense, saying she was possessed by a ghost.

Mr. Chen was terrified so he asked a Daoist priest to come. He carried a whisk on his back and said that there was something negative in the Chen family directed at Madam Chen. If it wasn't resolved, Madam Chen wouldn't make it to the new year.

Chen Bohuan, who was the most filial, anxiously asked: "What attacked my mother?"

The Daoist priest pretended to be mysterious and hesitated for a while. He said it was a "beauty who couldn't see the light of day."

Everyone in the room froze. The Chen family's sons all turned to look at Luo Xianxian standing on the side.

Luo Xianxian also froze.

She has been told many times when she was a child that her life is cursed. She brought tragedy with her. As soon as she was born, she killed her mother, then her brother, and later her father.

Now, she was being accused again, saying that she was going to kill her mother-in-law.

The Chen family was petrified. The sons took turns telling her to leave the Chen family. Besides, no one outside the family knew that she was married and had an innocent reputation. They would give her some money and let her find another good family.

Luo Xianxian was anxious and afraid. She was really worried that she was killing Madam Chen and she couldn't control her tears.

Chen Bohuan was heartbroken. As he watched his mother grow weaker, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to leave Luo Xianxian, but he couldn't bear to watch his mother suffer. She had lost so much weight in such a short amount of time.

The brothers of the Chen family quit trying to be civil. One day, while their elder brother was away, they sought out their sister-in-law. Luo Xianxian was mixing butterfly fragrant powder in the greenhouse. They rushed up and knocked over her utensils. The fragrant powder fell on her. The pungent aroma seemed to instantly seep into her bones and she couldn't wash it off.

The brothers surrounded her and talked about the most important duties, such as "a woman's virtue", how a wife and daughter should be humble, parents should be respected but Luo Xianxian was very tough. Although timid, she was very stubborn. She cried and said she didn't want to leave, begging them to think of another way.

The second son of the Chen family was impatient so he went up and slapped her. He said: "You're going to kill our mother, you cursed bitch. If there was another way, would your father have died? Would your mother have died? Would your brother be dead or alive?"

As soon as he beat her, the rest of them rushed up, punching and kicking Luo Xianxian, shouting things like "get out", "vermin" and "quick fuck".

These sons had the same idea as their mother. In fact, they had known about their mother's idea for a long time. At this time, taking advantage of their elder brother's absence, they worked together to expel Luo Xianxian from the house. They threatened that if she dared to come back, they would beat her every day. She didn't have a family anyways. If she was beaten to death, no one would care.

It was a snowy night. Luo Xianxian was thrown into the snow covered in bruises and one of the embroidered shoes on her feet had fallen off.

She slowly crawled forward, a muffled choked sob escaping her lips, like the low howl of a dying cub.

It was late at night. Few people would be outside on such a snowy day. She crawled through the vast world, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where else she could go.

The Chen brothers were right.

She had no family; no father, no brother. No one to stand up for her, no one to take her in.

There was nowhere she could go in this white, awe-inspiring world.

Her bones were weak, and she was wearing thin clothes when she was thrown out, so her legs and feet quickly became numb and useless.

Crawling all the way to the outskirts of the city, she came to the earth temple where the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was enshrined. She curled up in the temple to hide from the snow. Her lips were blue and frozen, and her heart felt even colder.

Looking up at the clay statue with gorgeous red makeup, she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. It made her think of the rules of the Lower Cultivation World, and how a married couple should have a master of ceremonies to witness it.

At that time, all she had was a red flower hairpin, a beautiful smile and Chen Bohuan kneeling next to her.

Was this closed-door marriage all a big dream? That day, the beauty in the brass mirror was picturesque. Was it just a greedy joy that she had concocted deep in her mind?

She knelt in front of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost, dragging her increasingly heavier and cold body. She bowed three times, crying and laughing.

"Married as husband and wife. No doubt about their love. Rejoice. . . in this. . . tonight. . ."

She started to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry.

A thin layer of moonlight seemed to sprinkle in front of her eyes. In the small courtyard from her past, she cried and said: "I didn't steal. I didn't steal. I didn't steal the oranges."

However, three men make a tiger* and everyone was terrified. No one would believe her side of the story.

*(T/N: 三人成虎 - means that the more someone repeats something absurd, the more likely people are to believe it)

To this day, she knew that even if she ran up to every person she saw and screamed that she was Chen Bohuan's wife, no one would believe her. She was still the same little girl as back then, stuck behind the mud wall with no one to share her grievances with.

Nothing had changed.

But there was still that person, looking over the wall, holding a white steamed bun, stuffed into her palm, saying: "If you're hungry, eat a steamed bun to curb your hunger."

Now. . . that person. . . where was he. . .

When he came back and couldn't find her, would he be worried, or would he secretly breathe a sigh of relief because his mother would be safe from her?

Luo Xianxian curled up in the earth temple, eyes dripping with gradually drying tears, and whispered: "Madam Master of Ceremonies, I want to be with him. I'm his wife. . . When we came to the temple, we didn't have a master of ceremonies with us. You're a Master of Ceremonies Ghost. You can't control the living, but I. . . You're the only one I can talk to. . . and I can tell you. . ."

She whimpered in a broken voice, the last sound coming out of her throat: "I didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

The heavy snow was silent, and the long night was quiet.

The next day, the townspeople who passed by the earth temple on the outskirts of the city found Luo Xianxian's cold body.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[the-fiction-witch]

Feud

TV SHOW GAME OF THRONES COUPLE: JOJEN X READER RATING: NONE

Westeros is a vast place, with many people, families and dynasties. Many of Which hate each other for reasons no one quite remembers. Some have songs and old tales to explain the hatred between people, some are recent enough to understand, and others so lost to time even the great histories fail to recall the reason as to why the feud began in the first place.

I sat in the grass pouting I wasn't happy about this not at all. Bran sat with that damn boy discussing things, I hated it, I hated his very face, his very existence so I marched over.

"What are you telling him? Whispering your damn mash magic to him?"

"What I am or am not telling him is no concern of yours" jojen spoke back as angry with me as I was with him "besides I even told you, you'd fail to understand"

"What do you think I'm stupid? I'm remember that next time your sorry ass wants a fire, or water, or dinner"

"Maybe if I did it myself we'd get those things in a reasonable time frame"

"Enough!" Bran yelled, making us stop "you two have been bickering for days. Enough already"

"We're not bickering. Simply telling this mud man where to go"

"Rich talk from a water whore"

"Enough! Look. I know the reeds and the y/l/ns have a bit of a …. History. But for the sake of everyone can you two put it aside?"

We both just glared at each other waiting "well?"

"I'll agree to stop of she does."

"And why should I trust you reeds are known for being the most backhanded men in westeros"

"Ohh yeah! And y/l/n's are known for being crazy little witches so Which one of us is untrustworthy!"

"Enough! Jojen go help Meera with the dinner y/n go help Osha with the tent and I'd you can't stop bickering then stay away from each other" Bran told us so I sighed and went to help meera with the dinner

"What is your problem with my brother?"

"he pisses me off"

"why do y/l/n's and reeds have such a feud anyway?"

"No idea it's been in the family as long as anyone remembers"

"You have no issue with me though?"

"No. just boy reeds are dicks, the girls are fine. the boys have the dickhole chromosome"

"Understandable, to be fair jojen can be a dick"

I sat watching the fire crack and break away at the few sticks we had managed to find in the thick woods everyone else fast asleep but I couldn't help watching his evil glare across the fire

"Mud man" I snapped

"water whore"

"green dick"

"bitch witch"

"Cockalorum"

"Snollygoster"

"Lickspittle"

"Ninnyhammer"

"Mumpsimus"

"Milksop"

"tiny prick"

"Fat ass"

"Hey! what your butt is huge!"

"why are you all like this you reed men!  completely idiotic, untrustworthy, completely dishonourable cocks"

"why are all you y/l/n women like this! you overreact to everything, you won't trust anyone your so paranoid, riddget, friddget little... cunts!"

"You know what. if we find out will you stop this"

"If we both find out will you ut it out too?"

"Deal" I sighed I begrudgingly took his arm as we laid together trying to make sure I could follow him into his green dream, and soon enough we arrived in a beautiful spring place the sun shining down sweetly I knew where we were at the tall old were wood tree the most southern left in the world it was clearly some time ago before the draw close of winter, I saw under the tree stood a preist, and beside him stood a woman clearly a high born girl in a beautiful dress, her hair done this was clearly a wedding but... a groom was missing, and they had all clearly been there a long time.

"What's going on?"

"It's a wedding."

"who's wedding?"

"A wedding, between a reed and a y/l/n"

"Our families were meant to be together? I mean it makes sense the two most southern northern houses, makes sense they would want to bond together"

"What happened here that made us hate each other for so many generations?"

A man arrived clearly a reed, he met the bride and priest and the bride smiled but they spoke so quietly we couldn't hear her smile dropped he began to walk away as the bride began to cry falling to her knees on the grass as she burst into tears, the groom walked away and met with another younger, more beautiful girl kissing her and taking her away with him

"That's why our families hate each other, they were to be bonded together in marriage, but the reed boy left the y/l/n girl at the alter for another woman. that's why y/l/n's say reed's are untrustworthy and dishonourable" jojen nodded

"and why reed's think y/l/n women overact and paranoid"

"I get it now"

"Yeah I do too, makes sense, why our families have hated each other for god, knows how many generations"

"I completely understand why you hate me"

"Well... I don't hate you. I just hate your damn ancestor"

"I also hate my ancestor. What a dick" he says "Y/n... I'm sorry. for how I've treated you on the back of one dick's opinion of overreacting ex-fiance"

"I'm sorry too," I said "honestly after this long we should have gotten over it" I said

"I uhhh... if I can I'd like to make amends for the crimes and sickish moves of my ancestors"

"How?"

"would you... marry me?"

"what?"

"it would bring our family together at last? fix the stupid feud? and I kinda like you, what do you say?"

"Alright, why not? be the Romeo and Juliet of this shit." I smiled offering my hand and he happily took it giving my hand a kiss

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Secrets ~ 6

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; light touching.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Tomorrow will be a 12 hour day for me. Working on Xmas but oh well. I got this done on my one day off and I hope I survive the next week coming up!

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

Your time at Regia passed quickly and slowly all at once. You were woken most days abruptly by Barnes pounding on your door or standing over you with his smug half-grin. Then you dressed in clothes you reviled and ate a breakfast you couldn’t enjoy for all the expectation of your intake. You were allowed some recreation though that was often reading bland historical texts or walks in the garden with your keeper.

Your least favourite part of each day were your dance lessons. You had to relearn how to walk, talk, look, and eat, but you had never had much rhythm. Besides, being so close to Barnes with him commenting on your every misstep was hardly fun. He delighted in every mistake you made, eager to reproach you for each, and was easily amused by Priscilla’s stick smacking across your legs, back, and ass.

You counted eleven days as you began to truly fledge. You were tired, annoyed, and to be honest, hungry. That day, you beat Barnes’ early disturbance. You sat, in a coral blouse and a pleated grey skirted, with the lowest pair of heels in the closet. He greeted you almost with approval and that made your want to tear the blouse and shred it.

You didn’t. You followed him downstairs to your usual miserable meal. When you finished, he escorted you back up the wide staircase to the hall of mirrors. You hated the room. It gave you an all to inclusive view of your ridiculous attire. You didn’t look like you. Sure, you were one for a scholarly look but this wasn’t really that. This was a pompous, over-stylised look which would go well only with a silver spoon on your tongue.

A man waited in the hall of mirrors, a woman too. The man was slender and tall and his long fingers were twined together as he waited emotionlessly. He bowed as you entered and recited a dull ‘your highness’. The woman was squat and stuffed into a patterned wrap dress spotted with bright reds, pinks, and oranges. She was more jovial as her voice chimed with the same recitation.

“Lester, Deanna,” Barnes announced, “My apologies for the delay. I trust you are ready.”

“Darling, your highness,” The stout woman swayed over to you, “Come with me.”

“Huh,” you looked at Barnes and he smiled as he gestured you forward.

“Just go,” he ordered, “She doesn’t look like much but she’s not one for defiance.”

You sighed and let the woman usher you over to the attached room. The racks of dresses were gone but long garment bangs had been hung from a hook along the opposite wall. The door snapped shut behind you and Deanna flitted around you, like an elephant in heels, and turned you to face her.

“Oh, love, you are gorg,” she chimed in a peculiar accent, “I think however Lord Barnes was a bit off on your measurements,” she grasped your waist, “Lovely, lovely.”

“I hate to be a bitch but what the hell is going on?” You asked.

She blinked and laughed. She drew away and pushed her dark curls back as they burst forth from the jeweled pin behind her head. “Oh dear, you are fiery. The king will… like that. I think.”

She didn’t sound convincing as she spun away and marched over to the hook and took down the first bag. She unzipped it as she neared and turned it to reveal the contents. A white lacy dress with thin straps and a scalloped hem around the neckline. The bodice was fitted and the skirt flared out into a princess silhouette. You knitted your brow as you stared at it.

“Your wedding dress,” she sang. “Oh, it will surely look splendid on you, darling. Your highness.”

She stripped the bag away and was careful not to let the skirts touch the floor as she held it aloft and folded the swaths of fabric over her arm. She held it out to her as she beamed at you.

“So… I don’t get to choose?” You wondered. You didn’t care very much but you hated that all your decisions were made for you.

“Oh, but this was refashioned from the former queen’s dress. It is a tradition in Astrania. In fact some of this would date back centuries!” She explained, “Of course we do update the style.”

You chewed on your lip and shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with,” you muttered.

You felt defeated as you couldn’t help but fixate on the white gown. It was like you were wrapping yourself in a flag of surrender. You’d wave your skirts and let yourself be taken. You undressed and stepped into the dress as she opened it for you. She pulled the straps over your arms and zipped it up. 

“Rather, it fits you well,” she came around as she pinched at the fabric and smoothed out the seams. She wasn’t wrong, though it felt rather constricting. “Well, come on. Lester needs to do his figures. He’s always the better eye for this. I just sew.”

She took your hand as you lifted your skirts with your other. You let her guide you back out to the hall of mirrors and you avoided looking around you. You couldn’t look at Barnes either as you sensed him watching you. You blurred your vision as you lifted your head and the tall man, Lester, walked around you. He began to pin little pieces in place and Deanna pulled out a small notepad as she began to jot with a stubbed pencil.

“Hmm,” Barnes appeared before you and your vision cleared, “Not bad…” He brushed the lace with his fingers and traced the curve of your waist with his hands, “However…” He lingered just below your chest, “You can’t show the entire kingdom your bra. You would do better to leave that behind on the day.”

“We can add some structure,” Lester offered evenly. “But our adjustments will be minor.”

Barnes reached over and tugged the skirts from your hand and fluffed them out around you. He rounded you and gripped your shoulders. You saw yourself in the mirrored wall and tried not to show your surprise. It wasn’t awful but you still didn’t like it.

“We have three days left. You have the other dress?” He asked.

“We have options,” Deanna said, “We were uncertain if the king would prefer red or blue.”

“Let me see,” Barnes sidestepped her and went to the attached room. 

Deanna glanced at you and waved you after him as she approached and gathered your skirts. She followed after you and your vigilant chaperone. She released the vast skirts and went to Barnes as he neared the hanging garment bags. She unzipped both and he tilted his head and tutted.

“Red,” he said, “I believe the king will be in blue.”

“Very well,” Deanna pulled the dress from the bag. “Now dear, let’s get you changed.”

Barnes turned back and neared you. He faced you and reached around you. He pushed the zipper down slowly and leaned in until his breath tickled your nose. “Three days.” He reminded you. He drew away and left you as the bodice fell slack. He closed the door behind him as Deanna replaced him.

“Darling, I think red will look marvelous on you. And the king in blue! He has the most amazing eyes. Oh, if I was younger… maybe, skinnier,” she giggled, “Well, should I even tell you? You’ve seen him. Ugh, handsome bugger, he is.”

“Mhmm,” you grumbled as you wiggled out of the gown, “What a tragedy it’d be if his outside was ugly too.”

👑

That night was as restless as any. You laid in bed for a time, tossing and turning. You tried to forget about the blinding white dress and the abhorrent red number that came after. And how time seemed to pass regardless of your fears or your desires. You felt helpless. You used to be in control of everything and now, you couldn’t control even yourself.

You sat up in a slat of moonlight. You weren’t going to sleep. Your frustration mounted the longer you squeezed your eyes shut and clawed and clutched for rest. You grunted and stood as the duvet fell away from your legs. The short silk nightie sent a chill up your spin as it fluttered around your thighs.

You crossed your arms and went to the window. The lawns were peaceful despite the anxiety within the palace. You turned away as the lush green rippling in the silver shadows only heightened your uneasiness. You took the blush coloured robe from the chair sat before the vanity and swathed yourself in it as you neared the door.

It was, to your surprise, unlocked. As strict a warden as Barnes was, you just assumed he would have locked you in. You let out a breath and stepped out into the hallway. The portraits of your predecessors, dead and dusty, watched you pass as you tiptoed along. The windows cast shapes around you as you went along and at times, you were certain you heard whispers.

You descended to the lower first floor and ventured down a wing never explored before. Your eyes were attune to the darkness but still played tricks as you crept along. You heard the distant, muffled, and quite possibly, imagined ripple of water. You smelled a pool, the sharp scent of chlorine. Your senses brought you to a door at the end of the corridor.

Frosted glass framed in heavy metal. You pressed against the slotted handle and the clasp slowly lifted. You inched inside as you peeked around the door. Broad shoulders, bare and thick with muscle, beneath a head of dark hair. You were shocked by the scars along Barnes’ left shoulder and the arm no longer in place below. You’d never even noticed the prosthetic now laid out with his clothes on a bench near the wall.

He shoved himself into the pool and the water swelled around him. You placed your feet carefully as you eased the door shut and neared the bench where his suit was folded neatly with his shoes, socks, belt, and tie. You bent closer as you admired the hand at the end of the prosthetic; you touched it curiously. It felt lifelike even as it sat limp.

“Convincing?” Bucky’s voice frightened you as you heard the water move around his body. You turned to face him as he brought his right arm over the edge of the pool. “Don’t worry. You can toss it around. I won’t feel a thing.”

You were speechless; embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to intrude upon him but your fatigue mixed with your confusion had goaded you on.

“Sorry, I… I couldn’t sleep.” You hugged yourself and swept back to the door. “I wasn’t meaning-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Just an arm.” He said as he pushed himself up and turned to display what was left of his arm, a scarred stub just below his shoulder. “Good thing I was born with two.”

“Barnes…” You backed up until you were against the door. “I should go.”

“Alright,” he pushed himself back and floated with his single arm outstretched. “I always found swimming helped… with sleep.” He said lazily. “Calming.”

You didn’t move. You only watched as he floated along in only his briefs. He was entirely unbothered by your presence as he hummed and reached out to stop himself at the other end of the pool.

“Well, are you enjoying the show or you going to join?” He asked.

You watched him warily. “You’re not mad?”

“Maybe slightly irritated,” he shrugged, “You hovering is ruining the mood.”

You stared at him and slowly pushed yourself away from the door. You took small steps forward and lowered yourself along the rim of the pool. You held in a squeak as you hung your legs into the cool water.

“So, were you just not going to tell me there was a pool?” You chided.

“You didn’t ask,” he said as he waded casually through the water. “To be fair, you didn’t seem much interested in this place though as I’ve gathered, you are disinterested in most things.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. You peered over at the wall and pondered leaving him as you found him. You were surprised by a wet hand on your knee.

“If I can get to you so easy, Steve’s gonna drive you mad,” Barnes said. “So if you’re going to be so easily perturbed, you better work on hiding it better.”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

“Whatever,” he mocked as his hand slid under the water and he gripped your ankle. “Loosen up.”

He kicked himself away from the wall and pulled you down into the pool. You plunged with a yelp and threw your arms up in panic. Your nose and mouth filled with water and he let you go. You bobbed back to the surface and spat as your silken night clothes clouded around you.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You sputtered. 

“I’ll admit,” he said through chuckles, “I had a drink or two.” He winked as he moved around you. “Well, Duchess, you do play the role much better than you think.”

“Ugh,” you turned away and reached for the wall of the pool, “You are the worst.”

“Wait,” he pressed against you and caught you around your waist, “Wait, wait.” He drew you back with him. “Come on. Relax.” He dragged you further into the water, “Look, you’ve only got a few days left and even if you hate to listen to me, you should. Once you’re at court, this won’t happen. Ever.”

“What do you care? You haven’t so far.” You struggled with him and dipped below the water again. You twisted and turned and came up facing him as he clung to you.

“Duchess,” he warned, “Don’t be a brat.”

“A brat?” You blinked. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

He grinned and held you to him as he moved backwards across the pool. You felt something between you. It moved against your pelvis and as he spun you and pinned you against the tile, you realised what it was.

“Are you serious right now?” You snarled. “What about your king, huh?”

He chuckled and his hand slid down your back. He squeezed your ass as he kept you against the side of the pool. He was so close you could feel his breath and smell the remnants of his sweat and cologne.

“I’m supposed to show you how to be a good wife,” his finger tickled under your thigh, “In all areas.”

“I doubt he had this in mind,” you pushed against him but he was too strong. He slid between your legs as his hand stretched along the crease of your thigh. “I mean it, Barnes--”

Your voice gurgled as he reached below your nightie and stroked the front of your thin panties. The water splashed as you slapped his chest and growled.

“James!” You cried out. “Stop!”

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He twirled his fingers and you gritted your teeth against the tingle it sent through you. You stared into his eyes, fighting against the urge to let him go on. You shook your head slowly and pressed your hands to his shoulders. He let you push him away as his hand trailed over your leg.

“Oh, you just wait, Duchess,” he purred as he combed back his damp hair, “The king isn’t so willing to take orders.”

[strawberrylemonz]

Tonight’s Showing

Part 1 [CURRENT]

Part 2

DT: @bargledblocks my beloved <3 and @snapdragonfirefly my beloved <3

------------The screaming and yelling tore into his mind, filling him with pain. The screams, Tommy’s screams, called out to him, begging for him to save him. He didn’t want to leave the boy there, he never even dreamed of such a thing! That stupid security issue that occured a week ago had started all this, and Sam hated every bit of it. He didn’t know what to do in the situation. What was there to do? 

“SAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!”

His eyes widened at the tone of Tommy’s voice coming through to him from the communicator. Tommy sounded terrified. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t wait any longer. Rushing through the halls towards the main cell, Sam was fully prepared to get Tommy out of there. Fueled by the screams, he stumbled into the room, flipping the switch to undo the lava. His fear and adrenaline only grew the moment the screams fell silent. Why was Tommy silent? Before he could even see the lava fall, however, a bright light momentarily blinded him. Upon regaining his sight and senses, he was quick to draw his weapon, only to realize he had no weapons or armor on him. The only thing he had were his everyday clothes.

“Why am I here? Where is here?”

He quickly turned around to see that he was not alone in this confusing predicament. Everyone from the server was appearing into the strange room, all panicked and confused. Ranboo quickly rushed to check on Tubbo, who appeared to be digging around his pockets for some form of protection. Ghostbur, Techno, and Phil stuck close to each other, the latter two wary and ready to fight. Heck, even Drista was there! Everyone was the same, armorless and weaponless. Everyone, including-

SMACK!

Everyone turned to watch as Sapnap’s fist flew threw the air, connecting to a familiar mask. Dream. Dream struggled against Sapnap for a moment, his mask as crazed as his movements. Before the two could exchange any more punches, an invisible force separated the former friends. As the two regained their senses, everyone could get a good look at the freed prisoner. Whether the blood on him was from the altercation with Sapnap or not, no one knew. Standing there, mask facing mask, Drista could only stare as she questioned her older brother.

“What did you do?”

“He did something despicable and disgusting.”

The unfamiliar voice caught everyone’s attention, causing them to turn and face the direction of it. Standing there was a petite woman, watching them. Studying all their expressions, she snorted as she turned to face Dream, who was trying to walk forward. 

“Don’t even try leaving that small area, Dream, you can’t. Then again, I’d enjoy seeing you struggle, Bitch Boy.”

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t Tommy tell you guys? Wait, I forgot that none of you ever took him seriously when he mentioned me. The name’s Clara, I’m the lady in the sky.”

Lani played with her fingers, unsure of what to say or do. Sticking close to her brother, she gathered her confidence before speaking to the mysterious “lady in the sky”.

“Excuse me? Clara? Did you bring us here?”

“Yes! Well, with a little help, of course.”

Clara smiled as a grand being glitched into the room, his white orb of a head spinning in delight. Stopping the orb from spinning, his shoulders shook in joy as his prominent ‘XD’ presented itself to everyone there. Techno and Phil pressed their lips together as they shared a knowing look, obviously not expecting to see the god once again.

“Oh, you make me blush, Clara.”

“I do no such thing, we both know that. Did you give unhacked access for the others to join us?”

“Yes, they should be here any moment now.”

“Wonderful.”

Just then, a dark door emerged from the ground. Watched as the knob twisted and jiggled, the residents of the server didn’t know what to expect. When the door opened, however, they could only watch in confusion. Everyone, that is, aside from Phil and Techno, who happily rushed to her side.

“Kristin!”

Said woman smiled and giggled as Phil gathered her in his arms, planting kisses on her face as his broken wings flapped in excitement. Her own wings, white and pure, happily fluttered behind her as she returned the gesture. Pulling away, she turned to face Techno, a hand on his face as she smiled.

“And how is my eldest child?”

“Eh, you know. Here and there.”

“Here and there, indeed.”

“I’m sorry, what is going on here.”

Quackity watched the scene unfold in genuine confusion. Who was this lady named Kristin? Why was she so important to both Phil and Techno? Where did she even come from? He wasn’t the only one confused, pretty much everyone in the room was. Smiling as she stood in front of both men, Kristin hummed as she extended her arms in a welcoming manner.

“My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself! Hello, my name is Kristin! I’m the wife of Phil, as well as the mother of Technoblade, Wilbur, and Tommy! I’m also Death itself.”

“I’m sorry, Philza Minecraft fucked death?!”

“Wait, Techno is Phil’s kid?! I thought they were just business partners!”

“Business partners? I thought they were just besties!”

“I’m still not over the fact that Techno is related to Wilbur and Tommy.”

“I knew about Tommy being brothers with those two, as well as being Phil’s son, but I didn’t know about death being his mother! You’d think he’d tell me, given that I’m his best friend!”

“You knew?!”

“Duh.”

“And you never corrected us?!”

“Thought it was just a dumb inside joke.”

Ignoring the chaos caused by those around her, Kristin made her way to Fundy, who was frozen in uncertainty. Smiling as she placed her hands on both sides of his face, Kristin gave the fox hybrid a sincere greeting.

“My my, what a lovely young man. It’s finally great to meet you, Fundy. Look at you, I’m so proud to call you my first grandchild.”

She knew that her words caused her husband to flinch, it’s what she intended. As much as she loved and adored her significant other, she did find it sad that Fundy was denied the right to be loved. He deserved to feel loved and important, because he was.

“I can’t wait to learn all about you during the free periods! Oh! Speaking of grandchildren, silly me.”

They watched as Kristin made her way back to her opened door. Peering in, she spoke out in a gentle voice.

“Twins? Can you two please come out? Grandma will make sure no one hurts you two.”

Everyone watched as two small figures made their way out of the door, tiny hands holding onto one another. Watching as the door disappeared back into the ground, the twins turned to face Kristin. Humming, she gathered the two in her arms as she presented them to the room.

“Family, not family, meet Clementine and William-”

“Hn.”

“-I’m sorry, love. Meet Clementine and Wilbur! They’re technically Tommy’s children, born from the debris of his star.”

“I’m sorry, his star?”

“That will be revealed soon enough, no worries.”

Clementine just glared at the occupants of the room, her pigtailed hair bouncing as she turned to make sure everyone saw her expression. Wilbur, on the other hand, opted to hide behind his curled hair, painted in the same blond color as his sister’s. 

“Did he name his son after his dead brother? Because if so, that did not age well-”

“Fuck you!”

Everyone watched with apaled expressions as Clementine glared Dream down, flipping him off with her tiny fingers. Kristin shook her head in mock annoyance as Clara belted out in laughter, XD following in suit. Doing her best to regain her composure, Clara spoke up once again.

“Oh my Me, she certainly is Tommy’s daughter.”

“Well, as much as I don’t enjoy hearing my youngest son and my only granddaughter curse out their issues, she did do it in her brother’s and uncle’s honor, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Hehe.”

“Go on, go sit with your cousin.”

“M’kay!”

Kristin set the twins down back on the ground, smiling as Clementine immediately took her brother’s hand in her own. Pulling him along, the two happily ran up to Fundy, smiling as they did so. The moment was interrupted by Quackity, who was unsure of everything.

“As great as witnessing this family reunion was, why are we all here?”

Sam nodded as he agreed with Quackity, speaking up as he gave Dream a pointed look.

“Not to be rude, but I agree. Something happened back in the prison, and I haven’t been able to see what.”

“Ah, yes. That is exactly why we’re here. Kristin, XD, if you will.”

The two nodded at Clara before taking each other’s hands. Closing her eyes, Kristin began mumbling as XD stood there, waiting. Once Kristin finished her mumbling, XD released one of his hands from her, drawing invisible signs on the air. Once he was done, both deities gave a synchronized nod. Rumbling was heard as a tunnel emerged out of nothing. A train emerged from it, coming to a sudden stop. As the doors slowly opened, everyone froze as they watched the occupants walk out, confused and cautious. 

“Wilbur?”

“Schlatt?!”

“And me, MD!”

Before anyone else could make a move or sound, Clara spoke up once more.

“As much as I want more of these sweet reunions to occur, we really do need to get a move on. Now, I am very tired of everyone treating my poor starchild with such unjust unfairness. Don’t get me wrong, Tommy does make mistakes and his narrative is in his perspective, but come on! Blaming everything on him? This is getting ridiculous at this point! Now, you are all going to sit here and feel and hear everything he did! I, alongside Kristin and XD, will be monitoring you all. And Dream? Don’t make me go over there.”

Without warning, the environment completely changed. The group suddenly found themselves in the vast emptiness of space. They didn’t know what they were looking for, no one but Kristin. Said woman could only grimace as she nodded to herself, unconsciously touching her stomach.

“I remember this.”

“Remember what-?”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The group turned to see another Kristin scream out in pain, her hand resting on the bump of the belly. They watched as she tried to take a step, only to double down in pain again.

“FUCK YOU, PHIL. HOLY SHIT, I’M GONNA PUNCH YOUR FACE SO MANY TIMES.”

Phil grimaced as he leaned away from his wife, who laughed as she kept sikeing him out with her fist. Wilbur snickered at the sight. Turning back to the scene before them, they watched as Clara quickly rushed to Kristin’s sign, obviously not enjoying her distress.

“Clara, I- Ah! I don’t think- think I can make it to the bo-OOOOOOAH! The boys! I know I promised, but I can’t.”

“Phil will understand, dear. Breathe with me, in and out, okay? I don’t know a thing about human childbirth, but I know starchildbirth. Allow me to help, okay? I don’t like to see you in pain, and neither would your husband or sons.”

“Hurry!”

Clara pulled out a small orb from her pocket, holding it in the palm of her hand. Gently holding it against Kristin’s belly. Closing her eyes, she mumbled as the dull like of the orb brightened, growing in size as it did so.

“What is she doing?”

“That orb in my hand? That’s a dying star that I collected that morning. I’m using it to dub Tommy a starchild so that Kristin wouldn’t struggle with giving birth.”

Kristin let out a sigh of relief, her screams and sobs subsiding. Taking deep breaths to try and calm herself, she rubbed her face as she tried to wipe away her tears. Mumbling out a thank you, she watched as Clara extended the bright orb to her.

“Here he is, a healthy little boy! He’ll shine brighter than the sun, I’m certain of it.”

Kristin smiled as she took the orb into her own hands, watching as the light dimmed, revealing the newly born child. Tufts of blond hair poked out of his head as she adjusted the blanket. Kristin couldn’t help but let more tears fall as she held him close, kissing his forehead.

“He already looks so much like his father. Oh, Phil will be upset that he missed this.”

“Go and see your family, I’ll cover your shift for you.”

“Thank you.”

Kristin summoned a door, adjusting her youngest son as she walked through it. Navigating through the dark void, she came across another door. Opening the door, she stepped outside into a secluded area in the woods. Walking down the path, she approached the cozy cottage that proudly stood there. Knocking on the door, she cooed at the child in her arms as she waited for the door to open.

“Kristin?”

“Meet your son, Phil. He looks so much like you.”

The group watched as Phil dropped everything in his hands, startling his sons from the other room. Holding his newborn son and wife in his arms, he wept tears of joy as a tiny Wilbur and Techno rushed in, prepared for the worst. Seeing that it was only their mother, their worried looks morphed into joyful expressions.

“Mum!”

“Mom!”

“My boys! Come, meet your new brother.”

The two boys staggered for a bit, eyes widening at the revelation of the newest addition of the family. Watching as Phil and Kristin stared down at the bundle with great love and joy, they couldn’t help but feel excited at the sight. 

“Can we hold him?”

“Of course, just be gentle with him, okay boys?”

“M’kay.”

The twins carefully cradled the bundle in both their arms, working together to keep him safe and secure in their arms. Watching the sleeping child, they were in awe at the sight.’

“He has golden hair! Just like papa!”

“Gold! Gold! Gold!”

Kristin and Phil both laughed as they watched, joy and love filling them. Humming, Phil spoke up in a gentle tone.

“Well? What’re you two gonna name him?”

The twins just watched their baby brother as he slept soundly in their arms. Suddenly, startling the twins, their new brother yawned and squirmed in their arms. Rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists, he blinked his eyes open for the first time. Blinking up at them, he tilted his head as he squirmed. It wasn’t until Wilbur spoke up that he reacted.

“Tommy. Let’s call him Tommy.”

Everyone gasped as the feeling of immense love and wonder filled them, something they weren’t prepared for. Doing their best to cope with the feeling, they watched as the baby let out gurgles of giggles, reaching for his brothers. It was only then that they realized that Tommy was a very emotion-driven person, and they were going to feel every bit of that.

[inky-duchess]

Court Archetypes: The Dynasty

Royal families are just one big chain of flaws and strengths. All dynasties have their issues. When writing your royal and noble families in your fantasy works, it is best to study some archetypical royal families.

The Wealthy

Some dynasties keep their power by money, splashing the cash in ways their counterparts cannot.

The Medici: The Medici began as simple bankers. Through the years they rose through the ranks, from merchant class to obtaining power in the Florence government and then becoming one of the most powerful families in Italy, perhaps Europe. The Medici remained at the forefront of all arts and finance, as well as intrigue. They were the richest banking family, backing other dynasties and kingdoms in their ventures.

House of Romanov: The Romanovs were a relatively unknown noble family until the reign of Ivan the Terrible. When Ivan died without an heir, the nobles of Russia chose young Michael Romanov to be the new king. The Romanovs were autocrats, building a vast empire on the backs of serfs and their expansive powers. Some Romanovs were brilliant (Catherine the Great, Peter the Great, Alexander II, Elizabeth I, Alexander I) and some less so (Nicholas I, Nicholas II, Peter III, Paul I). But all were fucking loaded. The Romanovs were the richest royal family for many generations. Their palaces were the grandest and their jewels were to die for. The Romanovs came to a violent end in the Russian Revolution, for a list of reasons but chief among them being the extravagant and lavish lifestyle they had lived while Russia suffered.

The Treacherous

You can choose friends but not your family. Some families backstab each other so much its a wonder their arms don't present as a bloody dagger.

Ptolemy: The House of Ptolemy was founded by the Macedonian general Ptolemy, friend and some say half brother to Alexander the Great. When Alexander died, his generals divided up the empire. Ptolemy was granted Egypt. The Ptolemys wed one another for centuries, uncle to niece, sister to brother, daughter to father. The Ptolemys were a treacherous bunch. They betrayed one another for the crown, murdered family members. Just look at the last four monarchs of the dynasty. Blood, incest, betrayal, fratricide, suicide, battles, beheadings. It's Game of Thrones on acid.

House Of York: The House Of York ruled over England for 25 years. Edward IV had two brothers, George and Richard. They had a cousin called Warwick, the Kingmaker. Edward married a woman not of Warwick's liking. Warwick deposed Edward, marrying his daughter to George. When the nobles refused to make George king, Edward regained the throne. In a second effort, Warwick and George crossed over to the enemy House of Lancaster. Warwick wed his daughter to the Prince Edward of Westminster. George betrayed Warwick and went back to his brothers, leaving Warwick to die on the battlefield. George was constantly betraying Edward, even hiring a wiseman to predict Edward's death. George was drowned in a vat of wine. Edward died a few years later and Richard became protector of the kingdom, Regent for the young princes. He seized the throne for himself, disobeying his brother's last wishes.

Julio-Claudian Dynasty: To say the Julio-Claudians were treacherous would be an understatement. The Roman Emperors were volatile. Even the wise Augustus is no exception, having exiled his owned daughter because she was promiscuous. His adopted son Tiberius may have poisoned him as well as the much loved . Tiberius then imprisoned Germanicus's wife and let her starve to death. He then murdered all but one of the sons of Germanicus. Tiberius then adopted the boy, Caligula. Caligula then may have had Tiberius smothered. Caligula then had the other nephew of Tiberius killed. Caligula was killed by his guards and his uncle Claudius became Emperor. Claudius then named his stepson Nero as heir after his son Britannicus was poisoned possibly by Nero or his mother, Agrippina. Claudius was then poisoned and Nero ascended the throne. Nero chafed at his Mother's influence had tried to kill her by sinking her ship. When she crawled ashore, a guard was sent to kill her. Nero was driven to suicide.

The Unhappy Family

Some royal dynasties are nothing more than unhappy families. Whether it be strained relationships between parents and children or between siblings, some families do not get along.

Plantagenet: The Plantagenets were never a happy family. Begin at the start. Henry II married Eleanor of Aquitaine and they had five sons. Henry II fought with his sons over ceding over any control over the empire. The sons went to Henry's enemy for help in their rebellion. Eleanor rode to join them but was captured. She was held prisoner until Henry died. Later down the line we have Richard II who was a bit of a tyrant. He hated his nobles and made their life hell. He had one uncle killed and conspired against his cousins. While he was in Ireland, his cousin Henry Bolingbrook stole his throne (haha serves the dickhead right. Karma is a bitch dickie). Henry imprisoned Richard in a cell where he starved to death.

House Of Windsor: Was there ever a dynasty with such destructive tendancies as Windsor? First we have George V who argued with his son David. David loved an American divorcee named Wallis Simpson and was not exactly the model royal. When he ascended the throne as Edward VIII, he gave it up to marry his love leaving his brother Albert or George VI to be king. George died after the strains of WWII and the remainder of the royal family blamed David for his death. Elizabeth II ascended the throne. Princess Margaret loved a palace aide and asked to marry him. The Church refused to allow the wedding to go ahead and allow Princess Margaret to keep her royal status. In the end, Margaret chose her royal status. She later went on to have an unhappy marriage with Anthony Armstrong-Jones. Elizabeth II's eldest son Charles loved an unsuitable woman, Camilla and was pressured into marrying a more appropriate bride, Diana. The marriage was terrible and they divorced. The cycle of unhappy marriages and family relations still play out before us even today.

House Of Hanover: The House Of Hanover never got on. George I imprisoned his wife for infidelity and fought with his son because he was more popular and stole his children. George II fought with his son and daughter in lawn. George III went mad and had to suffer his sons. George IV shagged and ate his way through the kingdom as Regent, before becoming king at sixty. His daughter died, the last legitimate heir. His brothers married to sire an heir, only producing one, Victoria. Victoria fought with her son, blaming him for her husband's death. The Hanoverians had issues.

The Incestuous & Problematic

These are the houses that have serious issues. As opposed to the last heading, these families love each other a little too much.

House Of Hapsburg: The Hapsburgs didn't begin as incestuous. As their empire began to stretch across Europe covering most of the German and Austrian states as well as Spain, they began to wed the two branches of the House together, the Austrian and the Spanish. These uncle-niece and first cousin-first cousin marriages resulted in deformity. Children born of these incestuous matches were stricken with the infamous jaw deformity, the Hapsburg jaw which made the lower half of the mouth stick out.

House Of Borgia: The Borgias may or may not have had an incestuous relationship between two of its scions, Lucrezia and Cesere. It was rumoured that the brother and sister pair were sleeping together and even more ludicrously rumoured that Lucrezia was banging her own father Pope Alexander VI. It was likely just slander. The Borgias were infamous for their affairs with poisons. Lucrezia alone was rumoured to carry the famous poison Canterella in a ring on her finger, being able to poison any unsuspecting victim. Cesere is rumoured to have killed his younger brother Juan or at least had him killed. The Borgias were a powerhungry and driven bunch, so all these rumours stuck like glue.

[gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat]

You are my home💚💙

Happy Valentine’s Destiel Wedding Day everyone!

Part 2 of my Destiel wedding series.

Click here for the masterpost.

Thanks @bonchickabelle for your support

~2,8k words

“Are you nervous?” Sam teased Dean, who stood in front of the mirror, tugging his tie straight. He thought about it for a moment “Excited? Sure, can’t wait to see Cas again after you forced us to spend last night apart for some stupid tradition. Nervous? No. It’s Cas I’m marrying.” Sam smiled knowingly, already half out the door. “I’m very happy for you two!” Alone again, Dean’s eyes drifted back to the mirror and he placed his hand on his shoulder, right over Cas’ handprint. He meant what he had said to Sam. It had been the first night they had been apart since he got Cas back and he barely slept. He had just felt wrong without hearing Cas’ gentle breaths, without being able to wrap his arms around the former angel and without feeling the weight of Cas’ head on his chest. But was he nervous? Not at all. He was almost surprised at how calm he felt. He’d never been this sure about anything in his life. After today, he would never have to spend another night without Cas.

Everything was perfect. Everyone they knew had insisted on helping with the wedding in one way or another. Sam wanted to officiate them, he got his license as soon as he heard the happy news. Eileen had taken the grooms separately to shop for wedding suits, Jack had promised them a warm, sunny day and handmade the invitations with Claire. Jody and Donna had baked their wedding cake, Ellen and Jo contributed a dozen homemade pies, Bobby took care of the bar and the catering. Garth and Bess promised to capture the whole day on their cameras. Gabe offered to be their DJ and Ash took care of all the technical stuff. Rowena had promised them truly magical fireworks at night, while Crowley and Benny were in charge of the security, although that shouldn’t be necessary ever since Jack became god.

Charlie and Dorothy had not only offered their vast, beautiful property as their wedding venue, they had also taken care of the decorations. The ceremony was set to take place on the Southern side of their house. An aisle led through rows of white chairs up to a little lake in front of which they had placed a rectangular wooden arc, decorated with greenery and big white flowers that stood out brightly against the blue water in the background. The Western side of the house was already equipped with a big dance floor around which tables, a big buffet and a bar had been set up. To top it all off, Charly and Dorothy had hanged fairy lights in every single tree on their property, which would create a magical atmosphere at night.

Lost in thoughts, Dean adjusted the flower on his lapel and smiled at the mirror. He never thought that he – Dean fucking Winchester – would ever get married. And yet here he was. His phone buzzed and his smile became even wider as he saw who texted him.

[Cas 10:34] Dean?

[Dean 10:35] What’s up? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now😉

[Cas 10:37] No, my feet are perfectly fine, why would they be cold?

Dean rolled his eyes, amused at his fiancé’s confusion.

[Dean 10:37] Not literally, that’s an expression for someone who has second thoughts on their wedding day. What’s going on?

[Cas 10:38] Oh. I see. I’m nervous that I might act weird because I don’t know all wedding customs. So I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me out when I’m about to make a fool out of myself.

[Dean 10:39] Sure thing, sunshine, but don’t worry about acting right, it’s your wedding day, all you have to do is enjoy it. And everybody here knows you’re a little weird😉

Without a knock, Charlie barged in. “What’s up bitch, you ready? Cause your fiancé is and he’s smokin’ hot.” She winked as she noticed Dean’s blushing cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where’s Bobby?” “Already waiting downstairs for you. I have to go, see you in a few”.  As quick as she had come, she disappeared again. Dean took another glance at the mirror to make sure everything was perfect before he left the room.

Downstairs Bobby and Ellen were laughing over a glass of scotch. When Bobby noticed Dean, he smiled and reached up to adjust his baseball cap, scoffing when he realized that he didn’t wear one today. “Lookin’ good” he grumbled. Ellen gave Bobby a quick peck on his cheek and winked at Dean as she went to take a seat. “I’m glad ya two idjits finally got the sticks out of your asses. Took ya long enough.” Dean chuckled nervously, his cheeks turning red again. “Thanks Bobby. Truth is I still don’t know how I got this lucky.” “Well, ya really deserve this, ya know? You’re a good man. He’s lucky to be with you. And I like him. Never seen you this happy.” After a pause he added “I’m very proud of you son.” Fumbling with the empty glass Ellen had left behind on the table in front of him, Dean replied “Bobby... Thank you. You’ve always been a father for me, unlike John, who... Anyways, thank you. For everything.” Dean swallowed, unable to put his love and gratitude for this man into words, but as he looked up at Bobby’s face, he caught him wiping over suspiciously wet eyes. “Idjit” he grunted, pulling Dean into a bone crushing hug. He nodded at the clock. “Ya ready? We gotta go.” “Ready” Dean replied, and he meant it. He was more than ready for this.

Or maybe he wasn’t. He was more than ready to marry Cas, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight of all his loved ones in one place, alive – thanks to Jack – gathered to celebrate with him. He always thought the only occasion where they’d all come together would be for his funeral, and he didn’t even expect that since most of them had been dead until a few months ago. Grateful and touched to see how many people where there because they loved him and Cas, Dean fought back some tears. While Garth’s kids waddled down the aisle, scattering white rose petals, Bobby squeezed Dean’s arm, as if he could sense all those thoughts whirling in his head. Dean nodded, linked their arms and let Bobby lead him down the aisle where Sammy already waited with a big grin and an even bigger stack of notes for his speech.

Back in the house, Charly gave Cas an encouraging smile and handed him a gorgeous bouquet of white and yellow flowers. “Thank you for leading me down the aisle, I was made aware that that would usually be the responsibility of one’s father...” “There’s nothing usual about this wedding..” Charly teased him. “Besides, you’ve been my bestie ever since we first met, of course I’m gonna walk you down the aisle!” She linked their arms. “Ready?” Cas nodded. “Ready...” Leaning in, he added with a proud smirk “...bestie”. The doors swung open and they stepped outside.

All heads turned around to see Cas, but he didn’t even notice. He was completely captivated by the sight of his fiancé, who let out a little gasp before breaking into a wide smile. His eyes made those cute crinkles that Cas loved so much and as he came closer, he could see a tear roll over Dean’s check. Usually, although Dean had become way more relaxed over the last months, Cas could always sense a lingering alertness in him. But now... he seemed completely at peace. Cas quickly blinked away some tears. He didn’t want anything to cloud his vision, he needed to preserve this image in his mind. His navy-blue suit combined with a simple black tie and a white flower on the lapel suited Dean incredibly well. He was beautiful and Cas’ heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was him who caused the pure adoration and happiness on Dean’s face.

Charlie led Cas towards him with excruciatingly slow steps. Dean could barely restrain himself from running towards them. Cas was indeed smoking hot in his black suit, the baby blue tie perfectly matching the color of his big, loving eyes. Their eyes locked and Cas smiled at him with his adorable alien head tilt. Dean took a deep breath in, smiling at his fiancé, whose eyes glistened suspiciously. Cas seemed completely awestruck, and Dean felt a little lightheaded like he always did when Cas looked at him like that... like he meant the world to him.

Charly placed Cas’ hand in Dean’s. “Hey handsome! Missed me last night?” Dean whispered with a wink. “Hello Dean. I missed you very much indeed”. Murmuring “Me too”, Dean softly leaned his forehead against Cas’. The grooms stood there for a moment with closed eyes and fond smiles on their faces, the longing for each other almost unbearable. Cas finally pulled away and stated softly: “You are incredibly beautiful”. He turned towards Sam. Dean blushed at the seriousness in Cas’ voice and slowly turned to face his brother as well, not without glancing at Cas’ concentrated face once more and shooting him a loving smile from the side. While Sam held his unsurprisingly deep and thoughtful speech, Cas slipped his hand into Dean’s, who squeezed it lightly in response.

When it was time to say their vows, Dean took Cas’ hands in his and started shakily: “So, uhm, I’d like to start if that’s okay. Cas – you’re my best friend. And you’re the love of my life. I never thought I’d ever say something like that, I didn’t exactly think love was in the cards for me. I never let anyone close. But you...” His furrowed brows softened, and he broke into a fond smile, adopting Cas’ little head tilt. “You immediately got to me – well, right after I stabbed you... Sorry for that, buddy.” He winked and Cas chuckled softly. Dean continued, his voice overflowing with love: “I love your weird, quirky personality. I love that you’re such an openhearted, adorable little dude and at the same time you’re brave, strong and one hell of a badass. You never stop surprising me. You have the most loving, pure and beautiful soul.” Dean’s voice started to crack. “You know me better than anyone, heck, you probably even know me better than I know myself. You looked into my soul and you love me for exactly who I am, which is the best gift you could have ever given me.” Firmly holding Cas’ gaze, he added seriously: “I promise to always love and support you unconditionally, in our human life together and beyond. I’ve been yours ever since you first laid a hand on me. And I swear I will be yours for all of eternity. I love you Cas, so damn much.”

Cas looked at him completely lovestruck, tears glistening in his eyes. In a low, gravelly voice he declared: “I never truly belonged anywhere. I never... functioned the way I was supposed to. And you made me realize that that’s okay. That freedom and free will were more preferable than being a brainwashed soldier of heaven. You gave me your friendship, you made me part of your family. You taught me to love.” He cupped Dean’s face, gently brushing his thumb over Dean’s freckled cheeks. Squinting his eyes in adoration at the miracle before him, he added: “You are the most perfect, selfless and loving human being I have ever known.” Tears started rolling down Dean’s cheeks, he still had a hard time accepting that someone – especially Cas – would think so highly of him. Receiving this praise in front of such a big audience made him blush. “Dean, you are my home. I love you. Forever.” He pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead and wiped away his tears. Dean almost drowned in his loving eyes, completely overwhelmed with affection.

Claire and Jack came up to give them their rings. Claire handed Cas a ring and whispered: “Congrats Ca... Dad”. Cas froze up for a second, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, trying to understand if she really just meant that or if it had just slipped out on accident. When she gave him a shy confirming smile, he pulled her into a strong hug. Jack handed Dean a ring with a “Hello Dad” and a short hug, before tugging on Claire’s hand to pull her back to their seats. The almost married couple shared a confused look after what just happened, Dean opening his mouth to ask “Did they just call us..?” “I believe they did”, Cas replied happily.

Sam moved on with the ceremony and let them repeat some more promises to each other before posing the final question: “Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded husband?” Cas answered earnestly “I do.” Sam turned to Dean to repeat his question: “Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel as your lawfully wedded husband?” Dean grinned widely, eyes crinkling around the edges: “Hell yeah, I do!” Sam asked them to exchange their rings to seal their bond and Cas took Dean’s hand gently in his. He slipped the ring on slowly, looking deeply into Dean’s beaming green eyes. Dean then slipped a ring onto Cas’ finger, his fingertips lingering longer than necessary. Sam finally pronounced them “...husband and husband. You may now kiss your groom!” Under the roaring cheers of their loved ones, Dean cupped Cas’ face while his husband pulled him close, arms wrapped around his waist. Their lips found each other easily, all of their adoration blooming into a chaste, soft kiss. Cas spontaneously bent Dean backwards, who gasped into his mouth in surprise, before letting himself fall into the strong embrace. Their kiss deepened, both too far gone to hear the excited cheers and whistles around them. It took them a while to gather the strength to break apart, foreheads resting against each other for one more moment before turning to the cheering crowd. Dean linked their hands and raised them up, as Sam exclaimed loudly: “I present to you Mr. and Mr. Winchester!”

The party afterwards was one for the books. Everyone had a blast and surprisingly enough, everyone got along perfectly, which wasn’t exactly a given on a party were hunters and supernatural beings came together. Donna’s and Jody’s wedding cake was mind-blowingly delicious. It was a white cake with three tiers and a figurine of the happy couple on top, wearing their trademark flannel and trenchcoat. When they cut the cake open, it revealed a colorful surprise. The top tier was colored like the bisexual pride flag. The second tier was chocolate-brown and the bottom tier looked like a rainbow flag. Dean insisted on feeding Cas with some cake and “accidentally” smeared frosting on Cas’ face. After he had kissed it away shamelessly, which earned them loud cheers and whistles from their guests, Dean pulled his husband onto the dance floor for their first dance.

They both didn’t exactly know how to dance, but it didn’t matter. They were just happy to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies against each other and melted into a tight embrace. As they were swaying gently, eyes closed and faces buried in each other’s necks, they didn’t realize that the first song had long blended into the next one. After a couple of songs, Dean opened his eyes for a moment, watching all the people he loved enjoy themselves. Jody and Donna slow-danced next to them and Eileen tried to teach Sam how to dance, hoping not to get her toes crushed. The brothers exchanged a big smile that said: “We’re so damn lucky”. Rowena stood at the DJ-table with Gabe, brushing a hand over his arm and whispering something in his ear. Crowley and Benny seemed to hit it off at the bar and Claire and Jack tried to teach Sonny some “tictoc-dance”, whatever that was, while Miracle excitedly jumped around their feet. Dean closed his eyes again and sank even deeper into the feeling of Cas’ arms wrapped around him.

The party carried on deep into the night, roaring rock classics long having replaced the quiet couple-dance music, everyone partying on the dance floor or sharing stories and laughs at the bar. As the newlyweds sat down to chat with Sam and Eileen over some drinks, Cas looked at his husband lovingly. He was overjoyed to see Dean beaming happily from being among all the people he loved, no danger in sight. As Dean caught Cas starring, he gave him a gentle peck and got up. He linked their hands as they strolled towards the lake, the party sounds fading into low background noises. They leaned up against each other, the reflections of stars and fairy lights glistening on the water as they held each other close in the cold night air. Dean nuzzled his nose into Cas’ hair and pressed a gentle kiss on his head. Cas turned to see Dean’s glowing eyes and pulled him into a long, achingly tender kiss. They were home.

[wolf-zer0]

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people.  I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors.  Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana 

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra 

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort 

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos 

Attack at your own peril 

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after 

The only known food export is potatoes.  Wonder why… 

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade: 

Is pig.  

With braid.  

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.  

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot: 

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit: 

Child.  

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human?  Is he not?  No one’s sure yet.  

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.  

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.  

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries 

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent 

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years 

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war 

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana 

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold 

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids 

Notable Members: 

Dream: 

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.  

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:  

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George: 

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.  

Skeppy: 

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly.  Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo: 

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power 

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world 

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake 

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups 

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot. 

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it) 

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information 

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt: 

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity: 

Lucky duck.  literally.  

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy: 

FOX!  

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc. 

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.  

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy: 

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them 

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral 

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because: 

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass 

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???) 

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez: 

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage 

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.  

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret: 

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.  

Having a bad mental health day?  

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.  

Dysphoric?  

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.  

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?  

They’ve got it.  

Ranboo:  

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo: 

This boi!  Has so many dads!  

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”  

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.  

When they meet up, look out.  Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering 

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess 

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student 

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is 

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members: 

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country 

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range 

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them 

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods 

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter 

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance 

Notable Members:

Tyr: 

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi: 

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya: 

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti: 

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin: 

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt #37 for you, dear: Things you said with the tv on mute 😌📺🤫

Notes: Okay angel, you have an official IOU from me for a one shot that’s total fluff!!! I love you!!!! Thank you to the gorgeous bitch that is Bethany for making this better than it ever could’ve been <3 <3 

A Reblog is worth a thousand Stars

.-

Things you said with the TV was muted  |  Send Me A Prompt

.-

Sirius’s never been much for silence. He was brought up in the heart of London in a household always filled to the brim with guests that his parents deemed worthy enough to intermingle with the ever so illustrious Black name, and then in Hogwarts there was always the chatter of other students or the mysterious sounds ringing from the forbidden forest. Sirius’s always needed that extra layer, that muffled background noise to help ground himself, to help not get lost in his own thoughts of inadequacy or regrets over his vast array of stupid decisions that he’d make in a thoughtless spur of passion. 

If he’s really forced to think about it, the only time Sirius’s ever been comfortable blanketed in quiet was during the few times he spent his school hols in the Welsh countryside. But Sirius tries not to, think about that he means. Because then he’s back in bed, curved against Remus, one of his arms stuck underneath him while the other traced elaborate designs against his sun dappled skin. And it’s hard to reminisce on those sorts of memories, the ones that remind him about burnt toast mornings in their Camden flat and the taste of blackberries on Remus’s lips and the way they had always found solace in folding into one another after a long day out on patrols or raids of a Death Eater hideout. Well, found solace until they had suddenly, abruptly not. Before Remus had begun spending his full moons away, out on covert missions given by Dumbledore and never repeated about to Sirius. Before a thick, uncomfortable tension had clogged between them on the breakfast table that they used to stretch across to interlace their hands with one another’s. Before secrets infested every nook and crevice of their relationship, burrowing through it like deadly, invasive pests— rotting away at the one thing Sirius held with reverence and an aching sort of love that he’s only ever felt towards Remus. 

The night Remus left was only surprising in how long it took their bending to turn to a break that couldn’t stitch back up with heady kisses, and ardent declarations and tender caresses that always were that bit lighter for how afraid they’ve always been to hurt the other. It was early June and it was like every ounce of Sirius was being rinsed of resolve, like the moonlight itself  was bleeding out with the desperation and yearning and pain painted so evidently on each of their faces and what measured their movements when in relation with the other. It was in the midst of an argument, because of course it was— because that had become their only form of communication in those final fleeting weeks in-between the fucking and the cautious glances volleyed around like they were back in sixth year and first beginning to tend this tentative, little flame between them, a flame that became a supernova that swallowed Sirius whole without his permission. Remus had made a crack about Sirius needing to get him a leash if he was so convinced that he wasn’t being forthcoming about his whereabouts, and Sirius had snapped back saying that at this point he wished Remus was actually just sneaking around to shag Dearborn, and then Remus had just slumped over, lying against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him up anymore.

He had circles as dark as the velvet night sky beneath his bright eyes, and he had such a rigid sort of posture once finally standing back up that it makes Sirius wince even remembering it, and just looking at him in such a state felt like the deepest betrayal. All Sirius knew, all he’s ever known and all he will know for the rest of his days is that he never wants to be the one to make Remus look that defeated or exhausted or just plain sad ever again. Remus had packed his few belongings in the old luggage he’s had since first year in a matter of minutes, and marched out the door without ever looking back, and Sirius hadn’t seen him until after the dust had finally settled in the wake of the end of the war. Remus is the one thing Sirius has always known he never deserved, and now— six weeks removed from the defeat of Voldemort by the hands of a still recuperating Dumbledore, Sirius knows that truth is as inherent as ever.

It was Lily who stayed up with Sirius on nights he couldn’t go back to bed in fear of being met with Remus in his dreams— her missing him in a different but just as painful way. It was Lily who told Sirius about the borderline sadistic recruitment efforts Dumbledore had Remus operating— making him relive his worst nightmare every full moon with the man who had turned him when he was no more than four years old. And it was Lily who called him and James a pair of “bloody prats,” because she had never doubted Remus for even a moment. So it only made sense when it was Lily who tipped her chin in that imperious way of hers two weeks before, and proclaimed that they’d be having a Christmas together as a family. Which meant that Sirius has just spent the last three— Merlin forsaken—  days awkwardly avoiding Remus in the most stilted and uncomfortable manners every time they ran into one another in the Potter cottage, and it meant that Frank, Alice and Neville took one of the guest rooms, while Sirius readily offered the only other one to Remus, and now he’s slumped downstairs, staring at the strange Muggle box that Lily had bought and what James, Sirius, and— and well the rat, had spent an entire afternoon toying around with— pure blooded to the core. Lily and Remus had only left them to it while going off for tea and scones at the cafe down the way, laughing at them all the while.

God does Sirius wish that golden splendor had never faded.

At the moment, the Muggle box is playing a barrage of clips of an incredibly pretty lady, one with dark hair and violet eyes. She looks like she could be a Black, honestly— it’s disarming. He’s sure he’s seen her before.  Sirius furrows his brows that bit more, surprised just how familiar she actually looks, and is shaken when he hears a soft, rasp of a voice— the most resplendent voice he’s ever heard— speaking from behind him. “Liz Taylor.”

Sirius turns around, frantic, as he takes in the sight of him, up close after so long, and Sirius stares, wide eyed and greedy, like he always is when around Remus. “Pardon?”

“The woman on the telly, that’s Liz Taylor. My mum was positively obsessed with her.” Remus’s arms are crossed leisurely against his chest as he lies against the doorway, clad in a white T-shirt and a pair of fading, plaid pajama bottoms. His bottom lip is worn dry and his hair is disheveled and sticking out on impossible angles, and he’s the most gorgeous thing Sirius has ever seen. Even now, even after so many months apart and even while he’s obviously lost in thought about his miraculous mother who had passed away from a Muggle disease their seventh year, taking a part of Remus’s heart right along with her. Even amidst all of it, Remus Lupin is the most startlingly beautiful thing Sirius has ever witnessed.

Sirius can’t stop his gawking, it’s like a warped image of that night over five months ago now, and it fills Sirius with a sort of dread he’s become far too accustomed with feeling when around Remus. “Oh, right,” Sirius says, more because he feels like it was his turn to say something, even if it is stuttering and dumb.

“You remember Christmas break of seventh year? When she made us watch her favorite film? That starred Liz Taylor.”

Sirius’s throat feels dry, can’t believe that Remus is speaking with him at all, wonders how he’ll actually be able to string two words together in any sort of coherency. “Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah. The one about the bloke who wanted to marry her but got that other bird pregnant.”

Remus’s answering grin is small and mild and a bit threadbare, but it’s a Moony smile, so Sirius will devour the vision of it with hungry piety.

“I think the critics might have an issue with your distilling one of the greatest critiques of American capitalism into a tawdry love affair, but that’s the one,” Remus says as he picks up the clicker and mutes the box, perched on the other end of the couch’s armrest. And it’s so far removed, but the closest Remus has been able to stand being around Sirius in too long and it pumps him with a sort of staggering, hesitant hope that he has no right in indulging himself with— to feel the levitating, helium like sense of it pulsing in his chest and coursing through his veins.

“You know me Moons, just wanna get to the dirty bits.” He tries for broke and casts him a half smile, feels it like a punch in the gut when that doesn’t affect the detached way Remus stares at him from his perch. “But the bloke was fit at least— I recall saying that he looked a bit like you.” That, for some mad reason, makes Remus toss back his tawny head— silver in the moonlight— and laugh hysterically. “I’ve finally done it, made you go barmy.” Sirius marvels, goading but also partially meaning it.

“Of course you’d think Monty Cliff looks like me Sirius, he’s only the most tragic git in cinema history.”

“Since when are you the dramatic one Moons?”

Remus stills for a second— probably over the use of the familiar pet name, but he doesn’t say anything of it, just gives him a one armed, what can you do shrug. “’S true, he got in a nasty accident with Liz in the car when they were out drinking one night.”

“Oh— That’s rotten luck.” Sirius says, still feels a bit delirious with the fact that Remus is even speaking to him at all.

“Quite.”

“Did he die?”

“No, not fully. They were able to stitch back up his face, but he never actually recovered, was haunted by it really. I guess folks used to say that there was the beautiful before, and then the monstrous after, scars and all. So he spent the next decade drinking himself to death.”

Sirius’s insides go cold, flashes of Remus’s own habits bubbling to the forefront of his mind, but he sweeps it away and only nods, thinks he understands the shifty way Remus is behaving now, considering the obvious parallel to his own accident as a lad and how the Wizarding world has regarded him ever since.

“That’s shit Remus.”

He hums, noncommittal as he studies a point over Sirius’s shoulder. “They still call it Hollywood’s longest suicide.”

Sirius suddenly feels sick to his stomach, knows that if this was even just half a year ago, he’d be gathering Remus in his arms now and kissing away the lines melting into his face, and telling him in a gargled repetition that he loves him and he loves him and he’s always loved him. He’d tell Remus how damn beautiful he is and how bright and brilliant and remarkable of a person he is. And Sirius would fall asleep with Remus’s head resting on his chest and the blanket pooling around their hips and it would feel splendid just for that slice of eternity.

But this isn’t half a year ago. This is now, and now is composed of them broken up and awkward and left them unable to even hold each others gazes for longer than a few seconds at a time, lest the hurt becomes unbearable.

“He sounds like someone I’d get a pint with If I’m being honest.” 

That miraculously seems like the right thing to have said because Remus smiles softly as he stands up. “Sure you two would’ve had a marvelous time, his boyfriends called’m a miraculous lay.”

Sirius laughs, loud and abrupt and a bit like a bark. “Come off it.”

“Poor Liz, she was mad over the shirt lifter.” Remus pulls a face and sticks his tongue out, cheeky in a way Sirius has missed beyond words. “But never mind the history lesson, I just came down for a glass of water, don’t let me disturb your telly watching.”

“You didn’t!” Sirius says hurriedly, forcing himself not to actually leap up and corner him. “I mean—“ he coughs, tries evening out his heartbeat.  “You’re never a bother Remus, you know that. You know I’d rather talk to you than just about anything else,” the silent, save for fucking you, doesn’t have to be said, but Sirius reckons Remus caught the implication if the slight flush to his ears is anything to go by.

“Right, well I should still get back to bed. Tomorrow’s actual Christmas Eve and Lily’s practically branded the damn schedule onto my hand.” Remus turns to the kitchen, and it’s all too much like before, but Sirius won’t let him— can’t let him— go off and leave him behind. If there is one inarguable truth in Sirius’s life, it’s that he loves Remus John Lupin more than all the stars in all the damned galaxies combined, and losing faith in that has only ever caused him the worst sort of pain. So he doesn’t let him go, flings himself forwards and encircles one of Remus’s bony wrists with a loose hand, can practically hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Wh— Sirius—“

“Are we ever going to be alright again,” Sirius asks outright, probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done but he doesn’t care, is sick of feeling so damn lost and wrong footed and lonesome without him. 

Remus slowly pivots back around, lips set in a firm frown and brows beginning to knit. “What do you mean.”

“Don’t Remus, please, just don’t. If it’s no then please just put me out my misery. I can’t do this sodding in-between shite, this purgatory of nothing and everything. I just can’t.”

The silence that drapes over them seizes with a tension Sirius hadn’t felt since the night Remus had left, and it probably doesn’t bode well, but Sirius doesn’t care, wants an  answer damn it.

Remus only stares at him, measured and noncommittal and with an almost aloofness that Sirius had successfully penetrated by the end of their first term in Hogwarts. It’s really something awful being on the other side once more.  “You thought I was the spy.” He says in a deadpan, void of any warmth, and cleared of even the Welsh lilt to his words that always shone through when he was relaxed, and wasn’t afraid of being cast off as just some country boy.  He sounds methodical, by rote. He sounds like he doesn’t dare allow any emotions to bleed through because he’s afraid what Sirius would do with them, and that realization, above anything else, is what punches him right in the gut.

“I thought everyone was the spy,” he tells him, isn’t above from graveling at this point. “Hell I thought I was the bloody spy for a moment there! Under the imperius curse, or was obliviated or—“

“That’s different Sirius,” Remus interrupts, seething, and tearing his wrist away from Sirius’s light grasp. “Think about why you would presume me to be working for the dark side over Peter!”

Sirius flushes, is getting angry now, hating that Remus wouldn’t even hear him out. “Because you were in the top of the class, and that fucking rat barely knew how to transfigure  a throw pillow to a damn porcupine!”

Remus’s face— a face Sirius knows better than the back of his own hand— twists up in derision, lips curled and nose wrinkled and pinning Sirius with a one eyed squint. It’s completely inappropriate timing, but Sirius wishes he could show Remus just how thoroughly he pays reverence to him and that face. “Well lucky him he was born a pure blood.”

And that, that snide remark is what makes Sirius jolt back, as if he’s been slapped open handed right across the face. Like the one and only time his mother had done so when she caught him and Regulus dressing up in her heels and jewels and lipsticks when he was seven years old. This, this insinuation by Remus is just as striking and probably ten times as painful. “Don’t. Don’t bring blood politics into this Remus. You know I don’t give a buggering fuck about any of that trite.”

“Then what?” Remus almost yells now, face reddening and stepping close enough to Sirius that he has to tilt his head back just so, just enough so that they’re eyes are boring into one another properly once more. “Was it the fact I’m a fucking werewolf? Huh?” He grabs for Sirius’s front, hands knotted in the material of his shirt, and careful not to touch him. It’s a familiar action when Sirius thinks back to the final couple months of their relationship, Remus had always just grabbed onto Sirius’s clothes— wrinkling his jackets and Henleys whenever they kissed goodbye. Sirius had ultimately thought it was because of the guilt eating up inside for his turncoating ways, but now recognizes it for what it was and what it is. He sees that it’s Remus trying to grapple for something, anything. It’s Remus trying to ground himself by touch, and by Sirius, to feel still amidst all the chaos. 

Sirius puts his larger hands against Remus’s wrists once more, doesn’t let him drop his gaze. “Fuck you Remus.”

“Is that it? You got sick of fucking a halfbreed? Figured that if I was just like the lot who actually were enthralled by Grayback that it’d be fine if you could end it.”

“Shut the fuck up!“

“Just say it! Say you didn’t trust me because I’m a werewolf and you believe that propaganda that we’re some sorta inherently dark creatures. Tell me you gave up on me because of that. Just give me an answer Sirius!”

And it’s like Sirius can’t breathe, doesn’t know where to begin his rant. Whether he should shout at Remus for being a self loathing prat, or shout at Remus for thinking so low of him, or maybe shout at Remus for trying to pretend as if he wasn’t the one who gave up on them first. In the end, he does none of that. 

It’s pure instinct when Sirius plunges forwards and crashes his lips against Remus’s own, trying to infuse the love and adoration and acceptance he knows Remus has never allowed himself to truly feel, and is relieved when his lead-like insides lighten just a fraction when Remus opens his mouth and grabs for Sirius’s face, and kisses him that much deeper. His tongue plunging into Sirius’s open mouth and the familiar slide is so achingly welcome Sirius swears he could fall over in gratitude, frantically palms up and down Remus’s lightly muscled back for purchase, and ultimately just gives up and drags him to the sofa, doesn’t let their lips separate for more than a breath at a time.

“I love you, I never stopped loving you Moons,” Sirius tells him as he practically rips Remus’s shirt as he pulls it off and Remus collapses over him, now straddling Sirius’s lap and kissing a path across his jaw. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Remus pulls away, only for a moment, but it’s enough to see the watery gleam to his eyes and the doubt that passes across his face. Though Remus doesn’t let him look for too long, plunges back forwards to kiss him in a cacophony of lips, and teeth, and spit. His cold hands glide against Sirius’s abs beneath his own t-shirt, and Sirius is practically arching up with wanton intent. God he’s missed this, missed Remus and the way they fall against one another, and missed the way they’ve always just fit so innately.

“I—I still love you too Pads,” he says against Sirius’s neck, practically shaking but it’s enough to clear Sirius of all his worries and all his doubt. If there’s anything that couldn’t erode, its the foundation they built with one another and that’s enough, maybe that’s all they need to begin healing once more. Sirius knows that there’s countless conversations and apologies and that they’ll need to take this one step at a time, but here, now. This gives him hope that Remus is just as willing to work on it as he is, and that’s all Sirius needs to know.

He slides a hand up Remus’s thigh and dips a thumb into his waistband, asking for permission, and almost laughing at how eager Remus is to the question, eyes fluttering shut prettily as Sirius slips a hand into his front, cheeks blazing when he realizes Remus wasn’t even wearing any pants. 

“Moony,” he moans, tossing his dark head against the sofa and praying for strength from fucking Merlin himself. 

Remus actually does laugh, kisses the juncture of Sirius’s neck and shoulder before he starts rocking back and forth, against Sirius’s rapidly hardening cock, and Sirius is already so pent up and hungry for this that he knows he’s not going to last long.

“Bloody slag.”

“Pot calling the kettle black—“ Remus’s eyes go blown suddenly, absolutely going mental at the pun and Sirius can’t believe the love of his life is such a damn wanker. 

“Oy, I’ll show you what this kettle can do,” Sirius snaps, playful as he flips their positions so that Remus is lying beneath him, canting forwards when Sirius unceremoniously grabs his cock and begins a slow, and steady stroke, absolutely fucking beaming at the small, cut off gasps and muffled whimpers Remus lets out. They should probably worry over someone walking downstairs for a midnight snack or smoke or something, but Sirius can’t be fucked to care, not with the gloriously golden sight of Remus Lupin flat out beneath him and panting and how Sirius knows precisely how to get him to whimper out in that particularly stunning way.

“Sadistic— Hah— Sadistic bastard,” Remus groans as Sirius begins to thumb at the tip and uses the pre-come to slide faster up and down his shaft, his own hips rocking faster against Remus’s leg to catch at the sensation.

“No arguments here,” Sirius whispers, dipping back down to kiss him as he speeds up the stroking, and gets some of his own friction as he rubs against Remus’s thigh in quick and graceless thrusts and it’s only a moment more before Remus is groaning out with his orgasm and another few thrusts of Sirius’s own hips  after that when Sirius joins him, practically collapsing over his body once he does.

“Oof, get off me you prick.”

“Too tired Moons.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

Remus laughs and Sirius wishes he could be wrapped up in the sound for the next eon to come. For now, he only licks off the come still sticking to his hand, and Remus wrinkles his nose in acute disapproval, but then he kisses him deep and thorough. So Sirius doesn’t take it to heart. 

Eventually they adjust themselves so that they’re each lying on their sides and peering at one another, gentle but with more stability than they’ve felt for nearly a year now. It feels like they’ve come to some sorta equilibrium about where they go from here, and it’s so bloody miraculous. It’s like their lives have finally been unpaused from the war and they have a thousand, glimmering memories waiting to be had. A future painted with a house of their own, and visiting James and Lily and the Sprog every night for supper, and maybe even having one of their own. A future Sirius lost hope in while they were apart but is now suddenly and painfully the brightest spot in Sirius’s world.