#and be wedded to the love of her life!!!!!!!!

[lonestardust]

MARJAN'S PEOPLE Preparing for Her Wedding At The Firehouse. 9-1-1 : LONE STAR : S05E10 "All Who Wander"

[cutielando]

mrs. leclerc | c.l.

synopsis: in which you finally get married to the love of your life

a/n: based on this request!

warnings!!: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (be safe!!), pet names, soft sex, body worshipping, just some fluffy newlywed sex

my masterlist

The soft classical music echoed through the grand wedding hall as the doors opened, the whole room turning around to see you standing there, bouquet in hand, waiting to finally walk down the aisle towards the love of your life.

Your family were all standing in the front row, tissues already dabbing at the tears falling down their cheeks.

On the opposite side, Charles' mother stood alongside his older brother, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Everyone had been waiting for this day ever since you and Charles got together. They all knew you would end up getting married, they could tell that you were made for each other.

The day when you announced your engagement, both of your families cheered and jumped up and down in excitement, happy that both of their children had found love with each other.

And now, here you were, 4 years after the first night he had kissed you and asked you to be his girlfriend, walking down the aisle to finally seal your future together.

You turned your head to look at your father, who was already looking at you with a fond smile on his face.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his eyes sparkling as he looked at his little girl, all grown up and ready to get married to the love of her life.

You smiled and took a deep breath before you nodded, turning around to face the hall once again.

The two of you slowly started to walk towards the aisle, your eyes finding Charles' and your gaze never faltering. You could see, even from far away, that he was struggling not to cry, seeing you in your wedding dress and knowing that you were going to be his wife in less than half an hour making him more emotional than he thought it would.

The guests gazed in awe at you as you walked past them, your wedding gown flowing effortlessly after you.

When you finally reached Charles and your father gave you away to him, you were barely holding your tears in.

"Hey" Charles whispered as you now stood in front of him, smiling through the tears.

"Hey" you whispered back, turning around slightly to pass your bouquet to your maid of honor, who happened to be your sister-in-law, Charlotte.

Turning back to him, you got lost in his eyes, the whole world around you ceasing to exist.

Neither of you registered what the priest was saying, too lost in each other. So many unspoken words were being exchanged between the two of you, vows that this moment was forever.

"And now, you may kiss the bride"

Those were the words that finally snapped you out of your daydream and brought you back to reality.

Charles gave you a wide smile before he closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, holding your face in one hand and keeping a tight hold on your waist with the other.

The entire church hall cheered and clapped as they rose to their feet, yours and Charles' mothers visibly dabbing their eyes with tissues every now and then.

Every single guest was on their feet, whistling as Charles didn't seem to want to let you go.

"Charles" you said as you giggled against his lips, your cheeks flushed as you knew everyone was staring at the two of you.

Charles, your now husband, smiled and gave you one last peck before he finally pulled away, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

Turning back towards the hall, Charles took your hand in his and raised both of them above your heads, smiling widely as your guests cheered even louder and threw flowers up in the air.

You giggled as you looked at Charles before you started walking down the steps and towards the double-oak doors you just stepped through mere minutes ago.

But now, you were walking out a married woman.

♡♡♡♡♡

The wedding reception was everything you had dreamed it would be and so much more.

The venue was decorated exactly as you and Charles had envisioned it, with adorning flower arrangements, twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling, elegant chandeliers adorned with flower vines.

Everything seemed taken out of a fairytale book.

The hours faded away as everyone gathered at the venue. The band was playing soft music in the background, everyone dancing quietly with their partners on the dance floor.

You and Charles were in the middle of the dance floor, swaying slowly to the music, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Can you believe we're married?" you whispered, opening your eyes to gaze up at him.

He smiled at you, his arms tightening around your waist to bring you even closer to him.

"I can't thank my lucky stars enough than I can now officially call you my wife" he said, leaning his head down to trail small kisses up and down the exposed skin of your neck.

You giggled, his his breath tickling your skin.

“Charles, there’s people all around us. Please do try and have some patience until we get to our suite” you whisper in his ear, an undertone of sensuality laced in your voice.

Charles groaned silently in your ear, his hands tightening his hold around your waist.

“Can’t we just go now?” he whispered again, leaving open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.

You shook your head, giggling as you held the back of his neck.

“Charles, we’re only getting married once. Let me enjoy our wedding before we get to enjoy our wedding night later” you said, accentuating the word later.

Charles pouted for a second, but then nodded and smiled at you.

He knew how much you had been looking forward to getting married, how stressed you had been while you were planning everything with his mother and your sister-in-law for the months leading up to the wedding.

He owed you the wedding of your dreams, he owed it to you to give you the time of your life on this special day for your life together.

And so, as the night wore on, everything was a blur. People were dancing, everyone was mingling with each other, drinks were shared and the famous cake came at midnight.

Everything was perfect.

And when it finally ended and it was time for you and Charles to retreat back to your apartment, that’s when the real fun would begin.

♡♡♡♡♡

"You're so beautiful, and all mine" Charles whispered into the shell of your ear, his sweaty body pressed deliciously against yours.

The two of you had barely made it to your suite once the wedding party had ended, Charles' hands desperately toying with the lace at the back of your wedding gown.

And now, he had you sprawled on the hotel room queen sized bed, your wedding down carefully placed on a chair, his suit thrown somewhere on the ground, and his only focus was you.

“Charles” you moaned, scratching at this back with your nails.

He felt so good, reaching spots inside of you that had you seeing stars and losing yourself in the feeling of him.

Charles was driving his length in and out of you, making sure that you felt every single inch that he had to offer you.

“My wife, my beautiful wife, I’m so lucky to have you all to myself like this” he whispered, slowing down his thrusts to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth.

His tongue was swirling your nipple around in his mouth, all the while his hips were thrusting in and out of you with a soft urgency.

Your nails were digging into the skin of his back, soft whimpers leaving your mouth every so often.

The feeling of him was overwhelming, the passion with which he was making love to you making your head go dizzy.

His cock was reaching depths inside of you like never before, the stretch of your walls burning deliciously to accommodate his thick length.

“Charles” you whined out when his cock hit a particularly sensitive part inside of you.

He responded by giving you yet another deep stroke, and another, and another until all you could get out were whines and moans, your hands still clawing at his back.

“Are you close, mon cœur?” Charles whispered in your ear, his lips and his hot breath ghosting against your hot skin.

You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

Charles smirked, groaning as he felt your walls pulsating around his length. He kept peppering open-mouthed kisses along the skin of your exposed neck, his hips giving you deep thrusts.

His hand gravitates towards your heated core, his thumb finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Your back arched as his thumb made contact with your clit, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull. You were so close, you could feel every single nerve in your body tingling and burning as the pit in your stomach drew closer and closer.

“I’m so close” you panted out, your mouth agape.

Charles growled and sped up his thrusts, rubbing even harder and quicker on your clit, chasing his own high as he felt your walls start to pulsate against him.

You moaned out loudly, your mind going fuzzy as you suddenly came around his cock, your body arching and your legs wrapping themselves tightly around Charles’ waist.

Your fingers drew blood against his back, your nails digging into his skin as your body shook with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm.

“Oh, fuck” Charles groaned out as he struggled to thrust between your tight walls, giving you a couple more thrusts before he buried himself to the hilt, spurting rope after rope of cum inside of your tight walls.

The both of you panted in unison, Charles tensing every now and then as you milked him dry of his cum, the warmth inside of your womb delicious.

“That was…” you started, resting your head against the pillow.

Charles chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, cradling the side of your face in one of his hands.

"Amazing? Incredible? Unearthly?" he said, his eyes twinkling as he still held himself up over your body, his length still sheathed inside of your gummy walls.

You giggled, biting your lip as you nodded.

"Our first time as husband and wife" you said, your voice dreamy as you stared at the man that you can now call your husband.

Charles smiled, taking in your features illuminated by the moonlight.

"That's right" he whispered, leaning down to seal your new chapter together with a kiss.

Your new life as husband and wife.

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[unorthodoxica]

Image Description: A quote tweet from muad 🔻 dyke (@CadenToMyHazel) that reads, "strong contender for hardest pic of all time" about user Rakesh Kumar's post that reads as such:

First lesbian wedding in the history of the Philippines in a revolutionary base.

below the caption is an image of two brown women kissing, around them are men in military fatigues, framing the couple with the barrels of their guns.

End ID.

Here's an Inquirer (Filipino News Outlet) article about it: "Love is love in communist movement"

And since no one reads crap besides the headline, here's some quotes to put the event into context.

It was the first lesbian wedding in Mindanao and it happened under the canopy of trees guarded by heavily armed guerrillas. The first such wedding was reportedly held somewhere in Metro Manila.

About Maymay falling in love:

“I was really speechless with admiration when I first saw her. Diane just had a bath that time and she had not combed her hair. I immediately fell for her,” said a giggly Maymay.

An optimistic excerpt:

“Our wedding is an assertion for equal love. We are all humans and we should all have the same right to choose whom to love and be a partner for life,” Diane said.

The article is a feature about two Filipino women, Maymay and Diane talking about their love story. The courtship process Maymay had to go through, and Diane's struggles as a Muslim woman in a same sex relationship. Her family forgoing the wedding ceremony—which was administered by the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP) and guarded by the New People's Army (the CPP's armed collective.)

For further context, here's a Rappler article about the CPP from 2022: "Things to know about the Communist Party of the Philippines."

[romerona]

The swan Princess; Westeros Version.

Okay so, I can’t this out of my brain so just imagine this with me:

The reader-insert Targaryen Princess, the younger sister of Rhaenyra by about 16-17 years, and the second daughter of King Viserys and the late Queen Aemma x Lord Cregan Stark in a dynamic inspired by The Swan Princess.

Viserys and Rickon Stark arrange for the princess and Cregan to be wed once she comes of age. To build familiarity, they reunite them every few years (a rare moment of decency among men in House of the Dragon, but let's roll with it).

However, from a young age, they absolutely despise each other, setting the stage for a classic love-hate relationship.

Young fem Targ reader x young Cregan Stark.

Warnings: kids being kids.

The towering walls of Harrenhal surround you like sentinels, their dark history hidden beneath the banners of red and black for your name day celebration. It's your sixth name day, and the great hall is alive with music, laughter, and the scent of roasted meats. Nobles mill about in their finest, offering you warm smiles, expensive gifts and endless congratulations. You curtsy, thank them, and do all the things a proper princess should.

You’ve been told countless times how loved you are—how your bright smile and kind words can soften even the grumpiest lord. But the truth is, your feet ache from standing, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and you missed you sister Nyra, she couldn’t attend because she was about to give birth to her babe. You’re already planning your escape.

Your father’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Come, sweetling,” King Viserys beckoned warmly, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “There is someone I would have you meet.”

With his guiding presence, he led you across the hall to a man of imposing stature, his broad shoulders and solemn expression marking him unmistakably as a lord of the North—Lord Rickon Stark. Beside him stood a boy, perhaps a few years your elder, with a mane of dark curls and piercing grey eyes that seemed to observe the world with unnerving precision.

“Lord Stark, I trust your journey was swift and uneventful?” your father inquired with the easy grace of a king accustomed to courtesies.

Lord Rickon inclined his head in a deep bow, he straightened from his bow, his voice deep and steady, carrying the weight of northern formality.

“Your Grace, the journey was as kind as one could hope this time of year. The North sends its regards, and I am honored to stand in your presence once more. Thank you for the honor of hosting us.” He glanced at you and also bow, “May the princess’s name day bring joy to all who celebrate it.”

You smile politely, dipping into a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to meet you and your family.”

Rickon gestures to the boy at his side. “This is my son and heir, Cregan.”

Cregan steps forward, bowing stiffly. It’s obvious he’s not used to it. He’s taller than you expected, and there’s something about the way he holds himself that reminds you of the knights in your father’s court—serious, reserved, and trying far too hard to look older than he is.

“Princess,” he says in a deep, measured voice, “happy name day. I hope it has been a joyful celebration.”

You smile at him, tilting your head.

“Thank you, my lord. It has been lively.” Your tone is polite, but you can’t help teasing him a little. He seems so serious, like he’s never laughed a day in his life.

Your father turned to speak with Lord Rickin about something you honestly had no interest in. Instead you turn to the boy, the young Lord, Cregan Stark.

“Do you always speak like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Cregan blinks, clearly taken aback. “Like what?”

“So formal,” you say with a grin. “Do you practice in front of a mirror?”

His ears turn red, but he doesn’t lose his composure. “It’s important to speak with respect,”

You’re about to tease him further when your father nudges you gently. You remember your manners and curtsy again, leaving Cregan to stare after you as you’re whisked away to greet the next guest.

Later that evening, after what feels like hours of endless conversation and feasting, you finally find your chance to slip away. The gardens outside Harrenhal are quiet and cool, a welcome escape from the noise of the hall. The moonlight dances on the fountains, and the scent of night-blooming flowers fills the air.

You’re wandering down a stone path when you spot him—Cregan Stark. He’s crouched under a tree, poking at the dirt with a stick.

“You’re not supposed to leave the hall,” you say, your sudden voice startling him.

He shoots to his feet, hastily brushing dirt off his tunic as though it might erase his guilt.

“Neither are you,” he counters, his tone careful yet edged with a hint of accusation.

You arch a brow, crossing your arms. “I’m the princess. I can do as I please.”

“That’s not true,” he retorts, his grey eyes narrowing as he mirrors your posture. “The king said the garden is off-limits.”

A sly smirk curls your lips, your lilac eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, my father isn’t here, is he?”

Cregan’s frown deepens, his expression growing more serious. “If something happens to you, it’ll be my fault.”

Ignoring him, you take a step closer, letting your gaze drop to the stick he clutches. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Were you digging for treasure?”

His shoulders stiffen as he quickly moves the stick behind his back. “That’s none of your concern.”

Your grin widens, delighted at his discomfort. “So you were digging for something!”

“I wasn’t!” he insists, his ears tinged with a flush of embarrassment.

“Let me see,” you say, darting forward with a burst of energy and snatching the stick from his hand before he can react. You hold it aloft like a trophy, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. “What is this supposed to be?”

“It’s just a stick,” Cregan replies, his tone laced with exasperation, as if he couldn’t believe you were making such a fuss.

You tilt your head, pretending to examine it like it’s some ancient artifact. “Were you digging for dragon eggs? Gold, perhaps?”

His cheeks flush, and he glares at you. “Stop teasing me!”

But teasing him is far too entertaining to stop now. You smirk, twirling the stick.

“Or maybe you’re looking for a duel,” you say, taking a step back and mimicking a defensive stance you’d seen knights adopt in the courtyard during their sparring sessions.

Cregan raises an eyebrow at you, incredulous. “I’m not fighting a girl. And a princess, no less.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your grin growing wider. “Why not? Afraid, Stark?”

He bristles immediately, straightening his posture. “I am not afraid,”

“Really? Then prove it,” you challenge, tapping the stick against the ground like a knight preparing to strike.

Before he can respond, you jab the stick lightly at his side, making him jump. “Ow!”

You laugh as he lunges for the stick, easily sidestepping him.

“You're slow," you taunt, spinning the stick like you've seen the knights do.

It's far too big for your small hands, but you make it work, grinning all the while.

Cregan narrows his grey eyes, his jaw tightening.

"I'm not slow," he says, his voice low and deliberate.

"Prove it, then," you say with a smirk, backing away a step. "Show me what the great Stark of the north can do."

He hesitates, glancing down at the mud smudging his boots, as if weighing the consequences.

“It wouldn't be honorable," he says stiffly, his tone full of the self-importance you've come to expect from boys who think they're men.

You roll your eyes. "You're no fun, Stark. What's the point of being a lord if you can't even defend your honor from a girl with a stick?"

His cheeks flush redder. "It's not proper to fight a princess!"

"Then you'd better run," you say, raising the stick and charging at him.

Caught off guard, Cregan stumbles back, his hands flying up in defense.

“Stop that!" he growls, but you've already jabbed him lightly in the side.

"First blood!" you declare triumphantly, poking him again before he can react.

"That's enough!" he snaps, grabbing for the stick, but you dance out of reach, laughing all the while.

"Not until you admit l've bested you," you tease, circling him with the mock seriousness of a seasoned warrior.

"Never," he mutters, his brows drawing into a stormy line.

But you don’t stop. You jab him again, then again, each time with just enough force to make him flinch. His face turns red—not from pain, but from anger—and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it is to rile him up.

“That’s enough!” he snaps, lunging forward and grabbing for the stick. His sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble, the stick slipping from your grasp.

The two of you freeze for a moment, glaring at each other, breathing hard. Then, as if on cue, the tension explodes again, and the scuffle resumes, this time with both of you trying to wrestle control of the stick.

The tugging begins. You yank the stick one way, he pulls it back with equal force. The push and pull grows more intense with every second, the dirt beneath your feet slipping as you both struggle for control.

“Let go!” he growls through gritted teeth, his stance wide and firm.

“You let go!” you fire back, gripping the stick with all the determination of a dragon refusing to yield its hoard.

You yank the stick back with all the determination your small hands can muster, and Cregan pulls harder in retaliation. The scuffle becomes a tug-of-war, and with one final, unsteady pull, you both lose your footing.

You fall first, landing ungracefully on the grass. Thankfully, you’re spared the mud, but the same cannot be said for Cregan. He topples beside you, landing with a loud squelch in the wet muck.

For a moment, the garden is silent save for your uneven breaths. You push yourself up, brushing grass off your skirt, and glance at him. His tunic is streaked with mud, his hair tousled from the fall, and a dark streak smudges his cheek like a careless smear of war paint.

You press your lips together, trying to stifle it—but it’s no use. Laughter bursts out of you, uncontrollable and bright.

Cregan turns his head sharply, his grey eyes narrowing as he sits up stiffly.

“Why are you laughing?” His tone is formal, but there’s a sharp edge to it, his annoyance barely restrained.

You hold your sides, laughing harder at his expression.

“Because—” you manage between giggles, pointing at his face, “—because you look ridiculous! Like a pig in a mud pit!”

Cregan stiffens, his jaw tightening. “You are hardly in a position to jest, Princess. You’re the one sitting in the dirt!”

His words make you laugh even harder, and for a moment, it seems like he might let it go. But then his temper flares, and with deliberate precision, he scoops up a handful of mud.

Before you can react, the cold, wet clump splatters across the front of your gown. You gasp, your laughter replaced with sheer outrage gasp.

“You big brute!” you exclaim, rising to your knees. You scoop up your own handful of mud and hurl it back at him with all the righteous indignation of a wronged queen.

The mud hits his shoulder, leaving a dark smear on the fine fabric of his tunic. His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks genuinely shocked. Then his lips press into a thin line, and he glares at you with all the gravity an eight-year-old can muster.

He grabs another handful of mud, flinging it with far more force this time. You shriek as it lands on your sleeve, and without hesitation, you retaliate.

The garden becomes your battleground. Mud flies through the air as you dodge and lunge, your giggles ringing out as Cregan growls in frustration. He tries to maintain his formality even as he hurls clumps of dirt at you.

“Your behavior is unbefitting of a princess!” he calls, though the mud streaking his face makes him look anything but dignified.

“And yours is no better for a lord!” you reply gleefully, tossing another clump that narrowly misses him.

By the time your attendants arrive, the scene they stumble upon is one of complete chaos. You’re both caked in mud from head to toe, your gown a ruined mess, and his tunic utterly unrecognizable.

“Your highness!” one of your handmaidens exclaims, rushing forward. “What in the name of the Seven happened here?”

“She attacked me!” Cregan says immediately, straightening his posture despite the mud dripping from his hair.

“You threw the first mud!” you counter, pointing at him with a haughty tilt of your chin.

The attendants exchange exasperated looks as they pull you both to your feet, fussing over the state of your clothes and muttering about what your fathers will say when they see this.

[chososcutie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ─── BOUND BY VOWS, TORN BY DESIRE ─── ۫ ׅ ✧ ⊰

pairing ── satoru gojo x reader

teaser ── your kingdoms have been at war for what seems the longest time, ancient ancestors dating back bloodlines never ceasing in their feud. but now, with the upcoming of a new age, and a desperate need for heirs with an old, dying king on the throne, you are forced to resolve and seal the peace by marrying prince satoru, of an opposing nation.

content ── fluff, slow burn, heavy angst, eventual smut, royal!au, forced proximity, arranged marriage, one bed troupe, mommy issues, jealousy, historic!au, language, mention of drinking, kissing

count ── 5k

author’s note ── thank you to everyone who voted for this series!! this is going to be a multi part story, and i hope to continue if it does well, also i think i’m going to make more series’ down the line because this was fun :)

in two days you were to marry prince satoru.

it was at the crux of the two kingdoms' warring, and father was weak and desperate in those times.

your mother had grown unusually cruel, even more so than usual, her voice sharp and reprimanding, put under pressure by the ongoing conflict that never seemed to be getting better.

you were heartbroken when they told you, but not surprised. you had hoped you would get to choose your own partner to spend the rest of your life with, but it seems cruel fate had other plans.

you had tried to reason with your mother to get out of it, that there were other ways to resolve a war other than sending off your daughter to be married to an unknown man from another kingdom, but she was having none of it.

it was really a matter of convenience. a way to set up a peace treaty, arrange a marriage, and combine two impossibly rich kingdoms? you had known your parents long enough to know they never loved in the way they were supposed to, always king and queen before mother and father, and that they’d take this opportunity in a heartbeat, no matter the cost.

you hadn’t however, known how soon everything would progress, until days later when you received an invitation in the mail, unsigned, and enclosed in a thick brown envelope, complete with the royal seal stamped pristinely on the front.

we hereby invite you to the royal marriage of… it read in rich gold lettering, looping cursive filling the page. little illustrations litter the margins, and a single grainy folded-up picture flutters out upon its opening.

when you unfurl it, it reveals the man you were to marry.

prince satoru gojo, in all his glory, wearing a pristine white and gold suit, a coy smile curving his lips, and soft, cloudy white hair fluffed up, a sword at his hip and azure blue eyes boring into yours.

for a second all you can do is stare, taken aback by his beauty.

you had heard of how gorgeous the prince was, being the talk of almost every woman in the kingdom for his good looks and charm, but you had never seen him up until now.

he was drop-dead ravishing. the kind of beauty one saw only in dreams.

“i see you’ve received the invitation.”

your mother’s calculated voice.

you quickly wheel around, her eyes fixed on you coolly. “we’ve gotten word to head to the gojo clan estate now. they will receive you there.”

“but..” you start, hoping against hope that maybe you could get through to her, and beg her not to send you off.

“please don’t disappoint us.” she eyes you disdainfully. “this arrangement means a lot for our kingdom, and it’d do you well to start thinking about what’s best for your disciples rather than your own wants.”

you stare at her. was she calling you selfish for not wanting to wed a man you had never met?

suddenly, the heavy hoofbeats of a horse-drawn carriage breaks the silent tension stretching between you two, a graceful steady gait of horses coming toward you causing you to quickly turn back to your mom, eyes pleading.

“please.. don’t make me.”

in your wildest dreams, her eyes soften and she looks at you with something different then, something resembling love, before scooping you up into her arms and kissing you on the forehead like a mother would, calling you her precious only daughter, and promising to never send you off, and what was she thinking, before calling off the wedding completely.

but instead, she stares at you, detached as if you were nothing more than a pawn in her intricate chessboard of royalty, your worth determined only by what you could provide for the kingdom.

the carriage comes to a halt in front of you, horses snorting and whinnying as you stare back at the face that looks so much like your own, only lacking the empathy you had always longed for.

“get in the carriage.” she says simply.

and realizing she’s not going to change her mind, you study her face for the last time, as if committing it to memory, that same stony unchanging expression that had been with you all through your childhood, before opening the door, and looking ahead, eyes hollow.

maybe this new husband wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

after a few hours of the carriage lurching and bumping along cobblestone trodden pathways, your head craning to look out from the slightly drawn curtains, you make it.

and just as you imagined, prince satoru's estate is big.

in fact, big didn’t even begin to describe it, with towering iron-wrought gates, and a winding driveway all leading up to a fairy-tale like palace.

statues of noble figures stand tall, outlined against its magnificence, and the castle itself is a rich ivory color, accented with shimmers of golden turrets reaching up into the sky, their tips brushing the clouds themselves.

quickly, you are ushered out, the carriage door held open for you by the coachman, and before you get a chance to take in the elegant grounds of the estate, royal servants are already waiting to greet you, all polite smiles as they advise you to follow them inside.

on the way, they tell you that you were to be properly welcomed to the gojo clan before tomorrow's highly anticipated ceremony, in the form of meeting the king and queen in charge, along with your husband to-be.

you take the chance to glance around, taking in all your surroundings, everything ancient and wooden, with small adornings of mythological figures decorating the walls along with paintings dating back to centuries-old wars, history written all across the panelling prominently.

finally, the royal attendants come to a stop in front of a long-winding corridor, leading all the way down toward an ornate wooden door, its magnificent size amongst the others causing it to stand out notably.

"this is master gojo's suite, and where you will be staying with him for the rest of your time here." says the servant nearest to you, beginning to back up slowly, the others in tow. "the king has asked that you meet with him beforehand, so you two can become acquainted. we shall leave you to it."

and with a final bow of his head, he's gone, leaving you to stand in front of the intimidating mahogany door, its broad outline almost menacing in the dimness of the passageway.

as you make your way to it, you push on it hesitantly, only to be met with resistance as it groans in protest, unwilling to budge.

you try the door handle. locked.

you look up again. you know this is the right door. so why isn't it..?

it opens so suddenly, you with all your weight resting on its frame can't stop yourself. you immediately topple over, letting out a soft oof! of surprise as you crash into something warm yet solid, your body pressing hard against it.

budging.

regaining yourself, you can't help but feel the flexing muscle under your palms, looking down to see a man's chest, his quick exhale of breath making you retract immediately.

and looking up, you're met with the sight of none other than soft white hair and blue eyes coming to blink hazily at you.

a vaguely familiar smirk curving his lips as he sets sights on you.

the man in the picture.

your husband to-be.

satoru.

"hello wifey.." he drawls out, tone almost mocking as he stares down at you, dressed in traditional heavy white robes. "i take it you're excited for the marriage?"

pointedly, his eyes fix on where your other hand is dangerously close to gripping his... lower half, so to speak.

flustered, you instantly step back, face blushing immensely. "m-my apologies my lord, i didn't mean to be so forward. i was sent here to meet you before the meeting, and.."

you notice his teasing grin seems to drop for a moment, eyes searching the halls for signs of life. once he knows you two are the only ones, his expression hardens, blue eyes becoming unreadable.

you were alone together.

"lets get one thing straight, princess. you're here to fulfill your role, nothing more, nothing less. i don't care for pleasantries. there's no reason for us to pretend we're anything other than strangers bound by a marriage of convenience."

you try to back away, eyes wide as you make a small involuntary noise in the back of your throat, but he doesn’t let you, coming closer.

"we'll carry out the duties expected of us, and that's all." he continues. "do what is necessary, but don't make the mistake of thinking i'm interested in anything beyond that."

you bristle slightly at his words. "oh, you think i want this? you think i want to be married to you? in a foreign enemy kingdom i don’t even know? because i don't! but there's no way of getting out of it, so why can't you at least afford to be nice?"

he scoffs. "nice? you and your kingdom have ruined my life! you've robbed me of any chance i had at making my own life choices, and i'm supposed to be "nice?"

"why are you acting like i made this marriage? it's not my fault! that's the whole point of an arranged marriage, it's arranged for you!" you don't even realize you're raising your voice until your words begin to echo off the vast walls, bouncing around you tersely. "and if i had, i certainly wouldn't have picked an asshole such as yourself.”

he steps closer, tilting his head at you. “careful what you say about your husband, sweetheart. or you just might get yourself in trouble.”

you know you should stop before you escalate things, but you can’t help it, jutting your lip out at him in a mocking pout. “yeah? make me then.”

in a heartbeat, he has you pinned against the wall behind you, one thigh holding up your weight as the warmth of his bulky frame surrounds you, cerulean blue eyes raking across your face steadily.

you let out a small gasp of surprise, but quickly recover, eyes narrowing on him fiercely.

he leans ever so slightly closer, crowding your space completely as his loud, sultry patchouli cologne surrounds you, alluring and familiar all at once.

his breath ghosting over your lips, is warm and cinnamon-y, as he stares down at you, eyes lidded and just daring you to defy him again.

"excuse me, mister and mistress gojo? your presence is requested now."

immediately, satoru jumps back as if stung, eyes lingering on you a moment longer, before stalking away in temporary surrender.

you push off the wall, feeling the servant's eyes on you questioningly, but not bothering to indulge him, simply brushing yourself off before rapidly following suit.

“your majesties, it is truly an honor to meet you both.” you take a small curtsy to the king and queen you were standing before, lifting your dress to show respect.

satoru rolls his eyes subtly, shifting beside you.

his father shoots him a look, all graying hair and wise crinkling eyes. “the pleasure is all mine, my dear. it’s nice to meet someone with proper mannerisms and respect for the crown.”

you smile. “yes, well i was raised in a kingdom, after all.”

beside him, satoru’s mother, the queen, grants you a kind smile, long white hair flowing around her mirroring her son's. “that you were.” she agrees. “which is why we are so honored to have you here at our own, and to finally resolve the peace that has been fleeting for so long. you have no idea how much this marriage means to both us and the kingdom.”

satoru sighs.

instantly, the queen’s eyes bore into him. “i’m sure you’ve been acquainted with your husband, prince satoru. he is just as pleased as the rest of us for this opportunity you and your kingdom have bestowed upon us, it was rather benevolent of them, and we are eternally in their debt.”

you get the feeling that they've been having disagreements with the arranged marriage, judging by their body language, and instantly the air grows thicker, more tense.

before the situation can progress however, the queen clears her throat, smiling politely at you. "why, it's been a long day, and i'm sure you're tired, sweetheart."

her attention turns toward her son, her voice holding a warning to it that you can't ignore. "satoru. walk with her to your rooms please, and accommodate her."

he nods, and doesn't even wait to see if you're following before retreating hastily, leaving you to chase after him.

finally, you find yourself back in front of the long-winding hallway leading to his─your─ bedroom, and he pauses, as if remembering something.

"we're going to have to share a bed."

your heart skips a beat, breath catching in your throat as he opens the door to reveal a mahogany bed, draped with quilted covers and over-extravagant silk pillows slightly rumpled by sleep. you had forgotten that as a married couple, it would be custom for you two to sleep together, just the thought of being in such a close, intimate space with him causing your pulse to race, whether with anger or.. something else, you can’t tell.

"no we're not." you move toward the bed, grabbing spare pillows and blankets to make your own on the plush carpet, vowing to stay as far as possible from that stuck-up prince.

you hear him sigh from where he's leaning against the doorway watching you.

footsteps pad across the floor toward you, before coming to a stop. "listen. i know this isn't ideal, but it is part of our arrangement to sleep in the same bed, as a married couple."

you gaze up at him coolly. "i'm sleeping here."

he runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "this is part of what is expected of us, and we need to fulfill our duties as a royal couple. just.. get on the bed, and face the other direction, if you must."

you ignore him, tucking yourself into the blankets you had set up with a small yawn, turning to face away from him pointedly.

all is silent for a single, peaceful moment, but then, two unfairly muscular arms are wrapping around your frame, and lifting, scooping you up into him as with a squeal, you kick, trying to get away.

one of your feet makes contact with his side, and he lets out a low grunt before throwing you roughly onto his stupidly huge bed.

"keep fighting all you want, sweetheart. i can do this all night."

for some reason, his words come off more provocative than anything, and you can't help the fact that the stern sultry purr of his coupled with it tinges your cheeks pink ever so subtly.

"i'll tell you one thing about this arranged marriage. as my wife, you are going to listen, and you are going to obey what i tell you, okay? i will not put up with attitude and immaturity.”

your cheeks warm at being scolded like a child, and all you can do is scoff in disbelief before turning over, resigned to your spot on the bed, vowing to stay as far away from him as possible.

you scoot all the way to the edge, squeezing your eyes shut angrily as tears of frustration prick at you.

just who was he to boss you around?

a few terse minutes tick by, with both of you silent, facing away from each other, the only sound being satoru's soft puffs of breath, sleep eluding you further.

you’re trying your best not to let your skin make contact with his in the slightest, but it’s proving difficult with the way his weight makes the bed dip in the middle, trying to draw you toward himself.

this was going to be a looong night.

you figure you eventually fall asleep at some point, because when you open your eyes again, sunlight is peeking through the windows, and something hard and hot is pressed stiffly against your back, insistent with its prodding.

you reach down, half-asleep, to move it away, but your hand connects with something pulsing and.. large. you trail your hand further up, eyes scrunching in confusion only to feel a small shudder under your palm, someone breathing fast and loud right next to you.

satoru.

you instantly scramble away, eyes wide, in your haste falling off and hitting the floor with a low thud.

this wakes him up, half-lidded eyes opening to take in your tangled form on the ground. “what are you doing?”

“y-you..!” you sputter out, frozen as you stare at him in disbelief.

he follows your gaze to his pants, a straining bulge printed on the front clearly.

his cheeks warm, and he looks down, mumbling under his breath. "mornin' wood.."

before you can bring yourself to speak however, two sharp knocks against the door break the awkward silence, followed by the voice of a servant outside.

"madame and master, it’s time to prepare you both for the wedding ceremony."

“ow!”

you scrunch your eyes tightly, pain washing over you in waves.

the stylist pauses, taking in your expression sympathetically before resuming to tug at your poor hair, putting it up into an intricate updo, a plaited bun with face-framing hairs and bangs, hot curlers and bobbypins attacking you left and right.

"just sit still, dear." one pushes your head back, while another tilts your face to the side to furiously blend foundation on your cheeks.

this day would only come once, in your lifetime at least, and being a royal wedding, of course, everything had to be perfect.

you and satoru were being relied on as human peace treaties to prove to the world that for the first time, your kingdoms were united, marking the official end of the war.

which is why, not only were appearances important, but also your actions towards satoru had to be convincing enough for the clan to wholeheartedly believe you two were in love, and effectively stop the fighting at hand.

so today was more important than ever that you look fully and maddeningly in love with satoru gojo.

you sigh to yourself, but suddenly your thoughts are cut off by the proud voice of your main stylist taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

"perfect. absolutely perfect." the rest nod in agreement, and with a few last touches, you're ready.

and as you all head to where the ceremony would be held, to describe how you're feeling right now as overwhelmed would be an understatement.

currently, there's about two thousand people waiting for you, all elegantly dressed, their heads held high with self-importance.

even the palace is decorated for the occasion, banners and emblems of the gojo clan stamp hanging proudly over the room, while decorative flowers in vases cover every available surface.

you shift your feet nervously, waiting for your signal to walk the aisle, praying that you wouldn't trip or embarrass yourself, fidgeting with your dress anxiously.

the wedding dress in question, was a classic take on a vintage ball gown look, with a too tight-fitting cream-colored corset billowing out dramatically from the waist into a poofy, tulle skirt, and currently it was killing you as you tried to take deep breaths, its taut stiffness practically constricting your lungs.

to make matters worse, it pushed your breasts obnoxiously up, and showed off your outline far too much to be comfortable, contouring every curve distinctively.

before you can try and pull it down however for what seems the hundredth time, the renowned quality of a simple elegant instrumental begins playing, signifying your entrance, and time seems to stop.

your heels click softly on the marbled stone, each step seeming to magnify in the large room spread out before you.

highly prestigious people, who had dismissed you before as nothing but a simple child princess living in her daddy’s kingdom were now all craning their heads to get a better look at you, hushed gasps and chatter sweeping through the crowd as you pass.

slowly, you begin to make your way down the dramatically decorated aisle, and as you get closer to the altar, you spot satoru, leaning slightly, cerulean eyes focused solely on you.

he’s dressed elegantly, in a frilly suit that matches the color of his eyes, all extravagant buttons and poofy sleeves, with crisscrossing gold lace, and a white overspilling cravat on the front.

he tilts his head as if to study the dress you're in, intense blue gaze raking up and down to ravish your clearly outlined figure.

your cheeks flush, his effect on you instantaneous as unbearable though he is.

slowly, you come to stand at your spot beside him, nervous as you look around at the crowd.

what happens next, you hadn't been expecting at all.

as one, they get up, and shower you both in applause, claps as precise and unified as their owners, the sound heard all the way around the entire palace, as they all give a standing ovation to their new king and queen of a new era.

the blush creeps up your neck, and you look around at your new subjects, all of them cheering for you.

after a minute or so of this, they begin to gradually quiet, sitting back down while both you and satoru turn to face each other.

the royal priest clears his throat for attention, and begins his long winding speech, garbled words slurring together as you stare at satoru.

he was so beautiful, breathtakingly so. his white hair is fluffed up, showing his high cheekbones, and he even has a bit of makeup on him, contour and powder.

in fact you’re staring at him so intensely, so swept up in him, you don’t even realize the priest is talking to you until he’s raising an eyebrow at you expectantly, the crowd hushed.

“huh?” you hear yourself say, embarrassment pinking your cheeks.

he clears his throat, speaking a little louder. “do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better..”

when you glance back at satoru, he’s looking at the priest, but there’s a curve to his mouth, amusement glinting in his eyes.

insufferable.

you take a second to let your eyes roam the audience, and happen to land on a particular face, one you hadn’t seen before.

she's wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, one that highlights her chubby figure and pudgy stomach, and a hat which covers most of her face. her head, though covered, is bowed low, as if in shame, which stands out to you as most of the audience is gazing up, at you and satoru, heads perked for a better look.

before you have time to further analyze however, you’re snapped back to the priest who is finishing up his speech.

“..till death do thy part. do you pledge your faithfulness and devotion, and promise to be thy loving wife, forevermore?”

your head starts to spin, the weight of his words sinking into you fully. you were to be with this man, whom you hadn’t even met before yesterday, for the rest of your life. all your hopes and dreams outside of the kingdom may as well come crashing down on your head once you were to speak those forsaken words.

after today, you would be queen, alongside your husband, the king.

at the very thought of being so responsible, the words stick in your throat, face paling. you have the urge to say no, to call the whole thing off, to truly disappoint your parents and disgrace satoru’s family for eternity, because this was your life. your life, and nobody got to take that from you.

you force a smile. “i do.”

the ring-bearer comes up to you, a ring on a fluffed pillow for you to take, its band gold and cool in your palm as you pick it up, a baby blue gem encrusted with the gojo symbol across it staring back.

you had never chose, nor seen this ring in your life.

he turns to satoru. “and do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to..”

you turn to satoru, expecting to see that same playful smirk, but something else has replaced it, more open and raw.

maybe he was feeling the implications too?

“..promise to be thy loving husband, forevermore?”

he swallows, pauses for a second too long, before speaking, the words cool and strangely detached. “i do.”

his ring comes, silver and chiseled with symbols of royalty, all sleek metal and polished, shining pristinely in the light. it has diamonds encrusted all over it, each worth more than a house, along with his precious initials, s.g, carved into it.

he takes it without looking at it.

“then by the power vested in me, i now pronounce you man and wife.” he turns toward satoru. "you may now kiss the bride."

your mouth goes dry, and for a second, all you can do is gape at satoru while the priest's words register in your head.

shit. how could you have forgotten you would be expected to kiss him? it was a wedding after all.

satoru's mouth curves up as he leans in slightly toward your ear, his hair brushing you. “c’mon princess, kiss your husband for the audience, yeah?”

you blush, and oblivious to all the people and the priest standing less than a foot away, he goes on, “although, don't be too good of a kisser, or i might get used to..."

before he can continue, you grab his face in your hands, pressing your lips hard against his, if just to make him shut up, and he pauses, taken aback, before slowly his hand creeps up to cup your cheeks gingerly, hesitantly leaning in to it.

the crowd all cheers around you, but you can’t even hear them anymore, all of it fading around you.

he's your first kiss.

he tastes like cinnamon and clove, like something spicy and reckless, his tongue already coming to meet yours in a brash tangle.

as quickly as he had been on you however, he draws away, wiping his mouth with that same lopsided smirk tilting his lips upward, leaving you practically dizzy.

and as the rest of the ceremony drones on, you can't help yourself from wanting more.

it wasn't enough to leave you satisfied, and now that you've gotten a taste, you fear you might not ever get enough.

after the wedding ceremony, there was to be a reception where only the most prestigious and important of people would attend.

it was held in the palace ballroom, lavishly decorated for the occasion with crystal chandeliers, and silk draped tables filled with shiny silverware, everything overly classy and elegant.

when you enter beside satoru, they're already serving flutes of champagne, people milling about amiably and making pleasant conversation.

and if you thought you were popular before as a princess, you had no idea the kind of attention being a hot topic like you were now would bring.

before you're even two steps inside, there's already people surrounding you to congratulate you on your marriage, kiss you on the cheek in greeting, and welcome you as newfound queen to the throne.

after a few minutes of this, with no sign of the crowd of people easing up, you begin to get nervous.

there's just no way you can see to get out of it, and as you start to feel claustrophobic, your body being pushed and jostled by all these people wanting to meet, you feel a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the crowd.

satoru.

“i think it’s time for a dance.” he says before grabbing your warm, gloved hands in his, and twirling you out to the center of the dance floor, where a few couples were already swaying to a slow tune.

satoru takes his hands, placing them on either side of your waist, just above your hips, a lazy smirk curling his mouth up as his touch seems casual, natural almost.

it seems almost genuine, the way he flirts with you in the public eye only to blatantly disregard you in private.

well, two could play at that game.

you wrap your arms around his neck, and draw yourself closer, lips hovering above his, your front rubbing against him dangerously.

he inhales sharply, eyes flickering with heat for a second but before you get the chance to revel in the fact you could draw a reaction from him, he starts spinning you.

you gasp as he whirls you around, before starting to glide back and forth with you across the dance floor, a smug grin on his face as you try and keep up.

luckily for you, as royalty you were expected to know how to dance, and your parents had enrolled you in private lessons weekly, your feet falling into familiar steps as you swept along the floor with him.

he takes notice, hands gripping your waist tighter as he sways with you, quickening the pace. “who taught you to dance, princess?”

you can't tell if he's teasing, or being genuine so rather than answer, you glance down, pretending to focus on your steps as you try to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

and finally with one last dramatic twirl, your hands tracing delicate arcs in the air, the music crescendoes and satoru catches you in a perfect dip, your head tilting back with a flourish.

instantly, cheering erupts, the room absolutely filled with clapping and whistling as your chest heaves up and down, still in his arms.

you had been so caught up you hadn't even realized everyone had stopped to watch you two, and with your finish, you were now the center of attention.

and as you seat yourself in a chair across from satoru, the formal banquet about to begin, you finally answer his question, seemingly out of nowhere, making him come to a start as he looks at you.

"my mother put me in dance classes from a young age." you smile bitterly as the memory washes over you. "you know it's funny, she was always the most beautiful dancer in the ballroom at my kingdom, but she wouldn't teach me. said i was "too slow", "had two left feet", "didn't pick up quickly", and i was nothing like her. she had someone else instruct me, and every day i would go and practice as much as i could, in hopes of getting better and pleasing her."

"did you?" satoru presses.

you sigh sadly. "i did, but it was never enough for her. nothing was. i remember thinking when i was younger, that maybe there was something wrong with me, and that's why she couldn't love me. why anyone couldn't love me, really. i've always felt like just a mere decoration in my palace, just another step on my mother's agenda."

what he says next surprises you. "i get what you mean. ever since i was little, my parents have been telling me, "you're going to be king" "one day you're going to overtake the throne" and "think of your future kingdom", when all I ever wanted was to be a child."

he draws nearer to you. "but, that gets taken from you once you're born into a monarchy, right?"

you nod. "that, and everything else down to your way of life, your interests, your dreams.." you break off, eyes flickering down to his lips for a moment. "..your husband."

the conversation between you becomes more intimate as he leans in too, lips above yours, and just as you start to close the distance..

the distinct sound of a fork clinking against a glass.

the royal toasts were starting.

it was from satoru's father, the king, his wise, crinkled smile looking around at all his subjects. "hello everyone. we thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the birth of a new age, as my son and the daughter of a rival kingdom have come together in marriage, forever binding our palaces as one. this marks the start to a new era."

he pauses, letting the people around break out into clapping, some cheering, before going on.

"as you are aware, i will be stepping back from my role as king, knowing our future is in capable hands, by your new king and queen.."

at that, he lifts a glass toward your table, winking solemnly.

"to satoru, my successor, my pride, and the future of this kingdom. may your reign be long, your rule wise, and may you bring many heirs to this kingdom."

wait.

heirs?

you turn to look at satoru, his face paling.

"to the future, to the kingdom, and to the continuation of our legacy!"

"long live the king!"

[not-magdi]

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 26 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇I can’t tell if I should stop it after they get married or make the continuing chapters about them early marriage, also this one’s a long chapter.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The week had passed with an uneasy calm. Telemachus and Y/N were lounging under the shade of an olive tree near the palace gardens, her head resting on his lap as he absentmindedly played with her hair. She was smiling softly, feeling the warmth of his hand as he combed through her locks. “You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “for a guy who fought off suitors and snuck around secret passageways, you’re surprisingly calm now.”

Telemachus chuckled. “I have you to thank for that. You’ve been my calm in the storm.”

Before she could respond, a palace servant appeared, bowing respectfully. “My lord Telemachus, the king and queen have requested your presence in the main hall. Alone.”

She immediately sat up, glancing at Telemachus with curiosity and slight worry. “What do they want with you?”

Telemachus shrugged but felt a knot of anxiety twist in his stomach. “I don’t know, but I’d better not keep them waiting.”

He kissed her forehead quickly before standing, brushing off his tunic. “Don’t go getting into trouble while I’m gone.”

She smirked. “Trouble? Me? Never.” With a grin, Telemachus followed the servant into the palace, his nerves growing with each step. When he entered the hall, Odysseus and Penelope were seated side by side, their faces serious but not unkind.

“Son,” Odysseus began, his deep voice echoing in the room, “we have something important to discuss.”

Penelope offered a soft smile, her tone gentler. “Telemachus, it’s about Y/N.”

Telemachus blinked, his heart pounding. “Y/N? What about her?”

Odysseus leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’ve proven your loyalty to her. Your love for her is clear. And after much deliberation, your mother and I agree that it’s time to solidify this bond—for the good of Ithaca and for your future.”

Penelope reached out, placing a comforting hand on her son’s arm. “We want you to marry her, Telemachus. In a month’s time.”

Telemachus froze. “A month?” he stammered.

“Yes,” Penelope said with a smile. “We believe it’s best for both of you to have this union sooner rather than later. The people will see it as a new chapter for Ithaca, a symbol of peace after the chaos.”

Odysseus, however, narrowed his eyes at his son. “You do intend to marry her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Telemachus blurted out, his face heating. “I love her, I want to marry her, I just… a month? That’s so soon.”

Penelope chuckled softly, patting his hand. “Trust me, Telemachus, time will fly. You’ll see. Besides, I think she will be more than thrilled.”

Telemachus scratched the back of his neck, his nerves bubbling to the surface. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Odysseus let out a bark of laughter. “Ready? You fought suitors, braved the seas, and stood against me without knowing who I was. If you can do that, you can handle a wedding.”

Telemachus sighed, his head spinning. “I guess there’s no point in arguing with either of you.”

Penelope leaned over and kissed his forehead. “That’s my boy. You’ll be fine, Telemachus. Just think about how happy you’ll make her.”

Telemachus nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah… I guess I’d better start practicing my vows.”As he left the hall, his mind reeled. A month. He loved y/n more than anything, but the thought of standing before the entire kingdom, of stepping into a new life as her husband, sent a wave of nervous excitement through him.

He made his way back to the gardens, already rehearsing how he’d break the news to y/n without tripping over his words. Telemachus found her exactly where he’d left her, sitting under the olive tree, her fingers idly plucking at the grass. She looked up as he approached, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Back so soon?” she teased, noticing the anxious look on his face. “What’s wrong? Did your parents scold you for sneaking around with me again?”

He chuckled nervously and sat beside her, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. “No, nothing like that… well, not exactly. They, uh, had something to tell me.”

She tilted her head, curious. “And what’s that?”

Telemachus hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “They, uh, want us to get married… in a month.”

She blinked at him, her expression calm and even. “That’s it?”

Telemachus gawked at her. “That’s it? Y/N, it’s in a month! That’s practically tomorrow!”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Honestly, I thought it would’ve happened sooner. You’re royalty, after all. Isn’t this kind of thing expected?”

“You thought—wait, you expected this?” Telemachus asked, utterly baffled.

“Of course,” she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought your parents would demand it the moment they found out about us. A month? That’s practically generous.”

Telemachus groaned, falling back onto the grass. “Great, so you’re perfectly fine while I’m over here losing my mind.”

She leaned over him, a teasing smile on her lips. “You’re overthinking, Telemachus. We’ve been through so much already—sneaking around, hiding from suitors, fighting for our lives. A wedding? That’s the easy part.”

He stared up at her, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to worry about messing up your vows in front of the entire kingdom.”

“Who says I’m not worried about tripping over my dress?” She shot back, poking his chest playfully. “We’ll survive it, just like we’ve survived everything else.”

Telemachus sighed, letting her words sink in. “You’re right. As always.”

“Of course I am,” she said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Now stop stressing and start thinking about what you’re going to wear. A month will pass before you know it.”

He groaned again, but her reassurance softened the tension in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, this whole marriage thing wouldn’t be so terrifying after all—especially with Y/N by his side. her lips curled into a mischievous grin as she sat back on the grass, watching Telemachus recover from his earlier nerves. She let the silence linger for a moment, letting him think he was safe, before dropping the bombshell.

“You know,” she started casually, plucking at a blade of grass, “once we’re married, that would technically make Antinous your brother-in-law.”

Telemachus froze. His eye twitched. Then, slowly, he sat up, his face twisting in utter horror. “Brother-in-law? Antinous?!”

She bit her lip, trying and failing to hold back her laughter as Telemachus threw his hands in the air and began pacing in frantic circles. “No, no, no! Absolutely not!” he ranted, pointing a finger at her as if accusing her of some heinous crime. “Do you realize what you’ve just said? Antinous, the Antinous—smug, arrogant, insufferable—would be family! My family!”

“Technically, he’s already my family,” she pointed out with a shrug, her tone innocent but her eyes dancing with amusement.

“That’s different!” Telemachus snapped, running his hands through his hair as though he were on the brink of losing his mind. “You’re stuck with him. I’m choosing this, and nowhere in that choice did I agree to him being involved!”

She chuckled, leaning back on her hands. “Come on, Telemachus. It’s not like you’ll have to sit around bonding with him. Though…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “It might be fun to see you two try. Imagine the heartfelt brotherly talks.”

Telemachus whirled around, his face a mixture of disbelief and outrage. “Heartfelt talks?! Y/N, the man tried to kill me! He literally plotted to have me ambushed and thrown into the ocean! What am I supposed to say to him—‘Hey, thanks for the warm welcome, bro’?! No! Absolutely not!”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as Telemachus continued his tirade. “And another thing!” he ranted, gesturing wildly. “He’s always got that smug, punchable look on his face! How am I supposed to sit at a family dinner without wanting to throw the nearest plate at him?”

“Family dinners will be so fun,” she teased, wiping a tear from her eye as her laughter died down. “Just think, you and Antinous, side by side, passing bread rolls like civilized men.”

Telemachus groaned, dropping dramatically to his knees. “Y/N, I’m begging you. Don’t make me do this. There has to be a loophole, right? Maybe we can disown him? Or—”

“Telemachus,” she interrupted, leaning over to cup his face in her hands, her smile soft but still teasing. “You’re going to survive this. I promise. And if you behave, I might even make sure Antinous doesn’t tease you too much at the wedding.”

He groaned again, letting his forehead fall onto her shoulder. “I’ve fought monsters, Y/N. Literal monsters. But this? This might actually be the thing that breaks me.”

She just laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “You’ll be fine, brother-in-law.”Telemachus let out a strangled noise, and she couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

———

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, biting her fingernails—a habit she had long outgrown but couldn’t help revisiting. Her heart felt heavy, torn between guilt and anxiety as she thought about the dark, damp dungeon where her brother was being kept. It had been a week since everything went down—the suitors’ deaths, Odysseus’s dramatic return, and Antinous’s imprisonment. She hadn’t visited him once.

Her stomach twisted. What if he’s angry with me? What if he thinks I’ve abandoned him? She loved her brother, despite everything. Antinous had always been complicated—harsh, arrogant, and difficult to read—but she couldn’t shake the memories of the boy who used to protect her, the brother who shielded her from everything.

“Are you still thinking about him?” Telemachus’s voice broke her train of thought.

She looked up to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed but his expression soft. She nodded slowly. “I can’t help it. It’s been a week, Telemachus. He’s my brother… I can’t stop thinking about how he must be feeling. Alone. Abandoned. I should’ve gone to see him by now.”

Telemachus walked over, sitting beside her on the bed. His jaw clenched briefly, but he forced a smile, hiding the venom he felt toward Antinous. “Y/N, listen. I know you care about him. I get it. But… don’t guilt yourself too much over this. He’s the one who made the choices that put him in that dungeon.”

“I know,” she whispered, looking down at her hands. “But he’s still my brother. And what if he thinks I’ve just forgotten about him? What if he thinks I hate him?” Telemachus sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t know how to navigate this. The thought of Antinous rotting in the dungeon brought him satisfaction, but seeing her this distraught? That wasn’t what he wanted.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, his tone as soothing as he could manage. “He’s probably… fine.” He hesitated, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to encourage her to go. “You know Antinous. He’s too stubborn to sit down there worrying about whether or not you’re thinking about him. He’s probably spent the whole week plotting some clever insult to throw your way when you show up.”

She laughed softly, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Telemachus said, leaning back on his hands. “It’s Antinous. He’s too proud to let a dungeon get the better of him.”

Her anxiety didn’t ease entirely, but she appreciated the effort Telemachus was making. She glanced over at him, noticing the faintest twitch in his jaw—he was trying hard to keep his dislike for Antinous under control. “You don’t have to pretend to like him, you know,” she said quietly.

Telemachus blinked, caught off guard, and then laughed awkwardly. “I’m not pretending to like him. I’m… tolerating him. For you.” He reached over to take her hand, squeezing it. “And because I know he’s important to you. That’s enough for me to—” He caught himself, searching for a word that didn’t betray his true feelings. “—put up with him.”

She smiled faintly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Telemachus. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“It’s not,” he admitted with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “But I’ll survive. As long as you don’t start calling him my brother-in-law again.”That drew a real laugh from her, and Telemachus relaxed slightly. For now, at least, he could handle this. Even if it meant biting his tongue whenever Antinous came up.

——

The stone steps leading down to the dungeon were cold and damp, and each one felt heavier than the last as she descended into the dimly lit space. The faint drip of water echoed through the halls, and the air smelled of mildew and stale despair. She wrapped her arms around herself as if it would shield her from the oppressive atmosphere.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn’t seen Antinous in a week—not since Odysseus had declared his punishment. The last memory she had of him was the look in his eyes as the guards dragged him away, his usual bravado shattered into something raw and bitter. Finally, she reached the cell where he was being held. A guard gave her a cautious look but didn’t stop her as she approached the iron bars. “Five minutes,” he muttered before stepping back to give them space.

Antinous sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with his arms resting on his knees. His once-pristine clothes were now torn and dirty, and his hair was disheveled. He looked thinner, weaker—but his sharp eyes flicked up to meet hers, and that familiar edge of defiance was still there. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough from disuse. “Look who decided to grace me with her presence. I thought you’d forgotten all about me, dear sister.”

She flinched at the venom in his tone but held her ground. “I didn’t forget,” she said softly, gripping the bars. “I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how to face you after everything that happened.”

Antinous raised an eyebrow, pushing himself to his feet. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Face me? What exactly do you think I’m going to do from in here, Y/N? Lecture you to death?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I just… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to fix this.”

His jaw tightened, and he leaned against the bars, his face inches from hers. “Fix it? There’s nothing to fix, Y/N. You’re on their side now. Odysseus’s little pet, Telemachus’s future wife—congratulations, by the way.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “You know I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t choose to have to pick between my brother and the man I love. I—”

“The man you love?” Antinous cut her off, his voice rising. “You love him so much you’d let his father throw me into this pit like an animal? You love him so much that you’d just stand by while I rot down here?”

She recoiled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That’s not true! I begged him to spare you! You’re still alive because of me!”

Antinous’s gaze softened for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it with a sneer. “And what a mercy this is,” he said bitterly, gesturing to his cell. “You really went above and beyond for me, Y/N.”

She shook her head, gripping the bars tighter. “I don’t know how to make you understand… I’m trying, Antinous. I’m trying to keep what little family I have left, but you make it so hard. You’re so angry all the time, and you can’t see past your hate for them to realize that I’m still here. I still love you!”

His eyes widened slightly at her words, but he quickly turned away, running a hand through his messy hair. “You shouldn’t,” he muttered.

She blinked, her breath catching. “What?”

Antinous faced the wall, his voice quieter now. “You shouldn’t love me. I’m a bastard, Y/N. I’ve done things you wouldn’t forgive me for if you knew. And now? Now I’m just a failure. A prisoner. A disgrace.”

She stepped as close to the bars as she could, her voice trembling but resolute. “You’re my brother. I don’t care what you’ve done, Antinous. I don’t care about any of it. You’re still my family, and I will never stop loving you.” He turned to her then, his face unreadable but his eyes glistening with something unspoken. For a moment, he seemed like the boy she used to know.

“You’re a fool,” he said finally, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

She smiled faintly through her tears. “Maybe. But I’m your fool.”

Antinous let out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Go, y/n. You’ve done your duty as the good little sister. Go back to your prince.” She hesitated, wanting to say more, but the guard’s shadow loomed over her, signaling that her time was up. With a heavy heart, she stepped back, her eyes lingering on her brother one last time before she turned and walked away.

Antinous watched her go, his expression hardening again. But as soon as she was out of sight, he sat back down against the wall, running a hand over his face and letting out a shaky breath.

——

Y/N climbed the stairs from the dungeon slowly, her legs feeling like lead. Her encounter with Antinous replayed in her mind, the bitterness in his voice, the pain in his words. She wiped her eyes quickly as she reached Telemachus’s room, not wanting to let him see how deeply it had affected her.

Pushing open the door, she found Telemachus seated on the edge of his bed, flipping absently through a scroll. His brow furrowed when he noticed her face, streaked with remnants of tears, and he immediately set the scroll aside. “Y/N,” he said, standing up and walking toward her, concern etched into his features. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”

Without a word, she stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest as her arms encircled his waist. She clung to him tightly, her body trembling slightly. Telemachus froze for a moment, startled by the intensity of her embrace, before wrapping his arms around her protectively.“You went to see him, didn’t you?” he asked softly, though his tone darkened with suspicion.

She nodded against his chest but didn’t lift her head to meet his eyes. “I had to,” she whispered. “I couldn’t just leave him down there without… without saying something.”

Telemachus tensed, his jaw clenching. “And what did he say to you?”

She hesitated, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were glassy, and her lip quivered. “He’s angry. He thinks I’ve abandoned him… that I’ve chosen you over him.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Telemachus snapped, his frustration boiling to the surface. “You should choose me. He’s done nothing but bring chaos and ruin to this house, to you, and to my family!”

“Telemachus…” her voice was soft but pleading.

“No!” he barked, stepping away from her slightly, though his hands still rested on her shoulders. “I’ve been more than patient, Y/N. I’ve tried to understand your bond with him, but every time you cry over that bastard, I swear—” His voice dropped, cold and furious. “If he so much as says one more word to hurt you, I’ll march down there myself and have his head on a spike.”

Her breath hitched, and she reached up to cup his face with both hands. “Don’t say that,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Please, don’t. He’s still my brother, Telemachus. I love him, even if he’s broken and cruel. He’s still a part of me.”

Telemachus looked down at her, his stormy expression softening as he took in her tear-streaked face. He let out a slow breath, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her close again. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “But I can’t stand the thought of him hurting you anymore. It’s like… he doesn’t deserve to have someone like you care for him.”

She rested her forehead against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his tunic. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to let go of him. He’s all I had for so long.”

Telemachus kissed the top of her head, his anger simmering down as he held her close. “I’ll protect you, no matter what,” he promised. “Even if it’s from him. But if he crosses a line, Y/N, I won’t hesitate. I love you too much to let him ruin you.”

She nodded, her tears soaking into his tunic. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if Antinous tested Telemachus’s patience, but for now, she let herself sink into his embrace, finding solace in his steady heartbeat.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 2

Warnings: suggestions of death, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You watch the witcher set off into the fog from between the slats of the barn. It’s been a fortnight crammed into the space. The stench has faded to something tolerable but the tension hasn’t. 

The now orphaned maiden clings to your arm. That’s what she is now. The man in black all but confirmed it. His horse tramps off into oblivion without hesitation as he sits tall in his saddle, disappearing into the haze. You sit back as your companion sniffles. 

“They’re dead? All of them?” 

“It would seem,” you sigh and lean on the wall.  

Your sister was a sweet girl but even before the revelation, you had little hope. Especially as your mother went to search and did not return. Your father has only you and your brother left. Marsh is a child still but he will grow into his legacy, so long as you father lasts that long. 

“How could this happen to us? Why Krescent? We are a good pious village,” she whines, her sniveling grating your addled nerves. 

“Bad things happen to all, regardless of prayers,” you resign. 

“That is blaspheme,” she accuses. 

“It is the truth. It has happened to all in the wretched place. And if this witcher should be able to slay the evil, then I too shall walk off to my own doom, only a living one.” 

She looks at you with her watery eyes. They are such a pale shade of green that they look almost yellow. She always reminded you of a swampy witch, the ones in the stories you whispered so the elders did not hear. 

“I suppose...” she begins, “marriage is destined to all. It shouldn’t be such a surprise.” 

“To him?” You wonder grimly. “Perhaps, at least, I will be away from this cursed land, that I should not look upon it and think of my...” your voice catches as the witcher’s words crash upon you. Your legs buckle and you slide down the wall and fold against your knees. “They truly are gone.” 

Caralyn mops away her tears as she kneels at your side. Your own eyes do not weep though your chest concaves. You brace your head as your elbows rest on your knees. You take a deep breath. 

“My father did not protest,” you murmur. “He is too dumbed without my mother to do anything.” You look at her, still hunched, “you must promise to look after Marsh.” 

“I promise,” she avows and brushes your sleeve softly. “I will keep him close to my own brothers and sisters, now that it is up to me to see to them.” 

You nod and frown deeper, “I’m deeply sorry for your parents, Caralyn. They were always so kind.” 

“So kind, I do wonder why it should be them instead of me,” her eyes spring with tears again and she lowers herself to her bottom. She wipes her nose messily and heaves.  

You wring your hands. You wonder the same of your mother and sister. How can it be that Lessa would wander off and you would be left behind to miss her. Your mother was always the order in your life and now it is chaos. 

Along with grief, is more terror. What should happen should the fogler, or whatever he called, it not desist? What if the witcher were to defeat the monster? Should he really claim your hand? A wife?  

Caralyn is right, it is not great surprise to be wed. It is a young woman’s fate but this... what sort of wife can you be to someone like him. The tainted. The sort spat upon at even the lowest tavern. 

“He was not... hideous,” Caralyn suggests as if reading your thoughts. 

You scrunch your nose at her, “how he looks is the least of my woes.” 

“Tall. Strong.” She offers. 

“Car, stop,” you chide. 

“You must... must try to hearten,” she shifts closer so her legs touch yours and she leans a little, as if to comfort you. “As our mothers would always tell us, we must be good wives one day. No matter who. I’m certain if you prove a good loyal wife, he would not treat you as one of his beasts.” 

You stare at her and hum. She is not incorrect. You were never to choose your husband so it should be that it doesn’t matter so much who it is. Only that you serve him well. 

“A man is a man, even if witcher he be,” she declares. 

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

005 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?” 

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it. 

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far… maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down. 

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now. 

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal. 

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?” 

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.” 

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?” 

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu. 

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it. 

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.” 

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.” 

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.” 

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?” 

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?” 

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms. 

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.” 

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them. 

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason. 

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.” 

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end. 

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said. 

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even. 

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money. 

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door. 

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you. 

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other. 

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.” 

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.” 

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?” 

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.” 

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.” 

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.” 

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?” 

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?” 

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

──────  ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival. 

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to. 

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea. 

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.” 

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries. 

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too. 

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.” 

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something. 

or did you just want it to? 

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin. 

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first. 

“you want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to? 

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again. 

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?” 

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table. 

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.” 

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?” 

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s. 

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.” 

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.” 

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.” 

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.” 

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat. 

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.” 

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?” 

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?” 

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table. 

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?” 

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?” 

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.” 

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.” 

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally. 

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy. 

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus. 

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod. 

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.” 

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch. 

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important. 

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks. 

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder. 

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay. 

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

──────  ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside. 

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute. 

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn’t care enough to change. 

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?” 

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets. 

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.” 

san gasps, “i am not responsible–” 

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early. 

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves. 

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.” 

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.” 

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it. 

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later. 

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely. 

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again. 

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.” 

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.” 

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.” 

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen. 

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first. 

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over. 

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting. 

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?” 

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.” 

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?” 

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day. 

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.” 

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping. 

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan. 

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?” 

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.” 

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. 

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.” 

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way. 

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks. 

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it. 

san frowns, “already?” 

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?” 

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage. 

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head. 

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?” 

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.” 

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second. 

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday. 

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today. 

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving. 

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.” 

he sips his beer again. “you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.” 

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?” 

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down. 

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?” 

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again. 

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place. 

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C. 

chan smirks, “weezer.” 

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.” 

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by. 

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it? 

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more. 

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation. 

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something. 

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song. 

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn. 

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes. 

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?” 

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back. 

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them. 

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.” 

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage. 

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile. 

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question. 

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either. 

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view. 

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place. 

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.” 

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him. 

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.” 

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles. 

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers. 

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.” 

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from. 

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking. 

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.” 

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career. 

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before. 

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag. 

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity. 

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place. 

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side. 

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.” 

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.” 

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?” 

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.” 

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. 

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?” 

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.” 

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.” 

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?” 

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?” 

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.” 

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold. 

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already. 

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight. 

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you. 

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.  

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that. 

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits. 

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.” 

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?” 

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.” 

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough. 

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise. 

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours. 

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.�� 

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer. 

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?” 

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more. 

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now. 

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?” 

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.” 

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?” 

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.” 

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.” 

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?” 

“is it working?” 

“maybe.” 

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt. 

fuck it. 

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged. 

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.” 

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.” 

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.” 

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.” 

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this. 

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes. 

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!” 

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?” 

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.” 

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.” 

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?” 

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone. 

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.” 

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it. 

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next. 

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?” 

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.” 

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.” 

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.” 

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.” 

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.” 

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” 

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.” 

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance. 

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.” 

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.” 

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?” 

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.” 

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.” 

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.” 

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.” 

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd. 

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly. 

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. “i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in. 

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together. 

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you. 

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.” 

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage. 

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was. 

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body. 

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him. 

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing. 

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered. 

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?” 

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.” 

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you. 

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver. 

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right. 

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.” 

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again. 

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after. 

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.” 

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.” 

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed. 

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?” 

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?” 

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you. 

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.” 

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band. 

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more. 

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!” 

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.” 

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try. 

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too. 

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder. 

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin. 

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad. 

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours. 

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do. 

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he’s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one. 

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him. 

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise. 

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was. 

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair. 

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend. 

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either. 

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong. 

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu. 

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach. 

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything. 

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same. 

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?” 

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.” 

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought. 

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him. 

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter. 

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up. 

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him. 

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back. 

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was. 

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself. 

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together. 

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word. 

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.” 

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?” 

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing. 

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”  

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind. 

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did. 

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you. 

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him. 

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small. 

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?” 

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.” 

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.” 

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.” 

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.” 

“will you stay with me tonight?” 

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no. 

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.” 

that was a lot, if ur still here i love u. tell me how u feel so i don't lose my mind pls

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

[ane-doodles]

Okay so, let's start with the goat, shall we? (Sorry, this is a long post!)

• In this dimension there is no prophecy to fulfill, there is no chosen one or a mission. On the other hand, there is an overpopulation of goats, which has led them to kill or hunt them without much remorse, considering them undesirable (for this reason, families usually separate in order to have a better chance of survival). While there is nothing illegal/wrong about interacting with goats, it is usually avoided most of the time.

• The goat's original name is Jonah, he used to be a kind of thief to earn a living since he was a child, since he was separated from his family at a young age. He ends up joining a ship as part of the crew for some time, but when he is caught stealing from the captain he ends up being thrown into the sea tied with weights to die.

• In this dimension it is assumed that after dying you are guided to the other world, to be added to the queue to reincarnate with a new life at least a century later. But Jonah is instead taken out of this line by Yuridia (the equivalent of Narinder in this world).

• Jonah is offered the opportunity to return to a new life, on the condition of "freeing the goddess who was unjustly imprisoned by her siblings", but he refuses, simply not interested. Yuridia ends up convincing him by striking a chord with him, acting affectionately and manipulating him with the idea that after she is freed he is going to marry the goddess (I want to highlight the fact that she did not say that they would both be married , but only him with her). And this is how the poor goat, already hungry for affection, ends up involved in the mess of the bishops and the goddess.

• Yuridia usually acts all loving and kind, presenting herself as someone sweet but with a strong character who constantly makes empty promises and flirts. She treats the goat - which she has renamed Kairos - as her knight who will come to save her. This ends up generating a kind of obsession/dependency in him to do what she tells him, in exchange for the goddess treating him well.

• Kairos' mission ends up being fulfilled in ten years in which several things happen:

+ The cultists hate the idea that the beloved ancient goddess Yuridia has chosen a goat as a vessel (which we already know was a not very beloved species), so they are not very respectful or kind to it. Furthermore, the fact that Yuridia possesses the goat during sermons and usually spouts aggressive doctrines has generated a rumor that probably part of the sermons are inventions of the leader.

+ During this period Kairos also learns that Yuridia's confinement was orchestrated by herself, and that in reality she only wanted to destroy the bishops so that she would be the only one with power over the lands of the old faith. Despite this he decides to continue.

+ Even though the order is to kill the Kairos bishops, he ends up just stealing their crowns and giving them to Yuridia, who disables them so that no one else can use them. The bishops are thrown out and returned to their lands as mortals.

+ Kairos also meets Yuridia's sons/guardians, who warn him that he should abandon the mission of helping the goddess for his own good and that of the world in which they live.

+ The goat also begins to know Yuridia's true intentions and behaviors as she witnesses the mistreatment of her children and various discussions about doctrines that usually end in discipline, but ends up downplaying it, blinded by the goddess's pampering and manipulations.

• After completing his mission, Kairos voluntarily gives his life, his heart being torn out by the goddess as a sacrifice. Yuridia takes back the crown as the sole goddess of the lands of the old faith and the goat is revived.

• The wedding takes place as a kind of private ceremony between the two, but ends up being somewhat one-sided since only Kairos marries Yuridia and not vice versa. This leads to him constantly asking her (maybe begging hehe) for the two to actually get married, but she just ends up postponing it or saying she'll think about it.

• Little by little Yuridia's affections turn into simple dominance, and the manipulation becomes more evident for Kairos who also little by little begins to distrust her. The goddess treats him as a kind of pretty trophy that she takes care of, although she doesn't really give him any more attention than necessary. [I think we could summarize their relationship as those people who have little purse dogs, all cute but who really take little care of them]

• After Yuridia's rise the former bishops try to steal their old crowns with the intention of making them work again, but the goat's job is to keep them away.

• As such Kairos is displaced, since he is no longer the leader of the cult and Yuridia does not need him by her side, so he dedicates himself to exploring. It is thanks to this that he stumbles upon a way to travel to the dimension of the lamb.

• Thanks to the latter, he runs into Yuridia's third son, who has ended up reincarnating in the wrong dimension. He decides to help him reunite with his brothers by bringing them to the dimension of the lamb where they will no longer suffer the mistreatment of their mother.

• Years go by and more things happen:

+ Kairos ends up falling out of love and begins to fear Yuridia's temperament, so being by her side at this point feels like being imprisoned.

+ He spends more time in the dimension of the lamb, things that the goddess does not like.

+ Kairos accidentally revives the lamb's sister (story for another post) and somehow ends up liking her, considering leaving his dimension.

+ The Lamb ends up giving him the final motivation to leave his dimension and finally get away from Yuridia.

• The day arrives and Kairos intends to leave Yuridia's cult, but she decides to prevent him by almost torturing him in order to stay since he belongs to her. However, by trying to kill her, the weight of the promises she made during her false imprisonment ends up killing her from within, allowing the goat to escape, thus condemning her old dimension to a world without gods (or so we believe).

• After recovering Kairos settles into the cult of the lamb where he can finally be at peace.

Aughhh here is the first loredump! It's a bit long, sorry!! I would have liked to add some doodles to make the reading easier, but I really have no ideas at the moment QwQ

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of Leon act if he knows he shouldn’t be with the reader (ada wong typa shit) but he can’t escape from her like whenever something happens (like maybe she spotted arias’s wedding in vendetta ?) she is deff a part of it and he keeps running into the reader 🙏 i love your work btw you’re the reason why i keep refreshing the tag 💪💜

Hiii

I love this idea lmao and thank you! You are so sweet - I hope you have a great day <3

Warnings: None Fem! reader

RE2:

Post the events of the game let's say he sees you around the training grounds

After the events you both went through at a young age I think he finds it easier to blame you for letting him fall for Ada's tricks

It grows heated and hurts you that he treats you like that around the camp

Krasuer actually makes you sparing partners on purpose hoping that you would hone in your anger and focus on creating your skills

It doesn't work

RE4R:

He sees you as he's running around but almost plays it off as just a figment of his imagination

It would a similar reaction to Ada in the game but let's say he actually is hung up you and has feelings then he would slip up more

He'll expose these feelings more often than showing you he's angry.

I don't think however you would use this to your advantage but find it cute that he is struggling

He's almost drawn to be at your side more than he is to focus on the mission. Ashley's presence is a reminder of what he's meant to be doing

Infinite Darkness:

Grows frustrated at first, like how are you here again

At this point I think he'll just assume the universe thinks you are meant to be together

Again is more likely to draw in close and team up in a way where he's not just straight up being used

He's been there done that

Better at hiding his feelings but does slip up a few times

Damnation:

He's beginning to get used to it at this point, I don't think he would really get mad

I think again it's just surprising how you are always there as a thing in his life and he never seems to know you very well

Playful banter, enough to get through the mission

Kinda accepts what you do as he's just used to it at this point so there's no tension or arguments on that front

He assumes you are hear on orders for someone. Doesn't agree to it but if you don't stop him from doing his job he wont stop you doing yours

RE6:

He surprised you are here, like he just wasn't expecting you to be involved with this plot scheme or that it was that large you would have an interest in it

Smiles to himself every time you talk or do something to help him. He's smitten at this point.

The dynamic has shifted dramatically at this point, there is hidden feelings waiting to be exposed or spoken about.

But when do either of you have the time?

It's just forever left unspoken

It would be easier to deal with it like this but at the end of the day it's too obvious now

The final 'goodbye' is the hardest

Vendetta:

So I think he would actually get annoyed but because he's not in the right frame of mind to deal with the emotions that follow from seeing you

He would provide information for the others about you if you are involved.

When he actually sees you he's silent. Not really talking to you all that much.

After the mission though when he's starting to get in a better mindset I think he will attempt to reach out

Maybe for some stability after all you have been there through literally everything

It could progress romantically but I think that's just what you were both expecting at this point if it does happen.

Soulmates in a way

Death Island:

You are either currently fucking or have fucked recently

Lingering touches when he does see you, its playful and the other don't really know how to react

He's not surprised that you are somehow involved and will stick by your side during the fights just in case

You both meet up together of course

At this point you just accept each others company and allows it to develop in whatever way it does

If it works out then great. If not then until next time.

[poetinthelakes]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© POETINTHELAKES 2025

[honeydewblogforwriting]

When you know you know

Summary: they’re convinced that they’re soulmates and they’re right.

Warnings: probably just typos

Uploaded to YouTube 30 minutes ago :

"Are you two a couple?", this question breaks the intimate bubble that you and your girlfriend had been trapped in as you swung your joined hands while strolling down the streets of San Francisco.

In front of you stands a young man with an eager expression and a digital camera.

Your girlfriend is the first of the couple to respond, "Yeah", she states with a large smile.

"Would you mind telling me the story of how you first met?"

"Oh yeah!", you excitedly respond.

"We met at a friend's birthday party. I thought she was really cute so I asked my friend to introduce us and then I moved in five days later."

"You moved in five days later?", the cameraman asks in a shocked tone.

Giggling, your partner states, "mhm in a business week"

"How did that happen?" Is the follow-up question.

"Well, the party was at her house and I just never left.", you giggle

"How long ago was that?"

"March of 2024"

"Wow, almost a year. What's your favorite thing about her?", the man behind the camera directs this question at your lover.

"Her gentleness. She's very gentle in all aspects of life. She's very patient, considerate, calm and receptive. She doesn't judge and her approach to life and interacting with others is to the point but not brash. She states her opinion but isn't rude about it. She makes me feel seen."

A warm blush coats your cheeks and you shyly sway on the spot.

There's a shift towards your direction and the previous question is repeated. You delicately toy with a beautiful necklace around your neck as you answer, "uhh everything. She's passionate, gentle, funny. She radiates warmth."

"We're doing a poll on if people believe in fate and the role it plays-"

Bright-eyed, you are the first to respond, "yes absolutely." You pivot your body towards her as you continue, "I feel like I knew you in like all of our past lives.". Your blonde-haired lover is quick to nod in agreement.

"What do you mean that you feel like you've known her in all your past lives?"

Nodding, you state, "I just feel extremely connected to her. Things have just been so comfortable and soothing."

"I've never heard a relationship being referred to as soothing. That's beautiful", the cameraman smiles.

Misty-eyed, the 6-foot young woman nods in agreement. You notice her prickling tears and quickly pull her in a comforting hug as you whisper, "I love you" in her ear. She repeats the sentiment as she tightens her arms around you. You stay in your tender embrace for a few moments longer. As you pull apart, you turn to the camera and state, "Thank you for this."

Behind the camera, the man nods with a genuine smile.

"What are you most excited for?"

You raise your left hand and wiggle your fingers, "our wedding." A shiny pear-shaped diamond engagement ring winks at the camera.

The Illinois native inches closer to you and her voice overlaps with yours as she points to your ring and state, "our wedding next year"

"Wow, thank you. Do you mind telling us your names?". Nodding in agreement, you take turns to respond with you going first. "Y/N L/N" "and Kate Martin".

Comments:

User1: okay so who’s the friend? 😭

🔂User2: I think it’s Jada. Her birthday is March and she tagged y/n in her birthday post. I tried to view y/n’s account but it’s private.

User3: so you’re telling me that Kate has been in a relationship before she even started playing for the Aces???

User4: so no one else finds it crazy that they started living together after five business days ? 😀

🔂User5: does it matter? They’re still together and intend to stay together

🔂User6: some of y’all don’t know the man for five business hours before y’all make them y’all babydaddies, be quiet please

User7: so you’re telling me that Y/N has been with Kate for her entire WNBA career so far ? 🥹🥹🥹

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[practicalgauntlet]

~You're still my person. Even if I'm not yours.~

"To love in silence is to ache with the hope of being seen, yet fearing the pain of remaining unseen."

Synopsis- You attend J.J.'s wedding. The reception is beautiful except for one thing: watching the love of your life pine for another.

Category- Angst (unhappy ending)

Notes - This is meant to be one part, but I can add a happy ending if you need it, unrequited love, one-sided pining, angst without a happy ending, this one is going to hurt, this was all I could think of when watching the episode, self-loathing, self-hating language.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You were happy for J.J., you really were. She had almost lost Will and Henery in the span of a day. It was unsurprising that she bit the bullet and decided to marry the father of her son.

The reception was just as beautiful as the bride herself as she walked down the aisle in her mother's wedding gown. It was a surprise, the wedding, thrown together by both Will and Rossi.

But it was bittersweet. Despite the thrumming, electric air of the night, you felt empty.

You had known for quite a while that Spencer was in love with J.J. It was apparent and frankly quite obvious, from the prolonged, yearning glances he tossed her way. The frantic worry he would give her if she was hurt or in danger. He didn't show that type of worry to anyone else, not even you.

Yes, he cared deeply for his team - it would take a bullet for them - but not to the point of almost wild, feral paranoia.

You weren't sure if anyone else noticed the way he acted around J.J. or the way he would look at her when she wasn't looking. Maybe it was because you were in love with him as much as he was in love with her.

You focused on the minute details of his behavior, hoping to gleam a fraction of the affection that was directed at her. Most of the time, you saw things you knew you didn't, making quick glances and friendly smiles into something they weren't just to save yourself the heartache.

But now she was getting married. And you could see he was miserable.

He hid it well, timing his smiles and laughter with everyone else's, patting Will on the back in congratulations while keeping that deep-set look of anguish off his face.

But when no one was paying attention, no one but you, his face fell, and that tight-lipped smile faded into misery.

He watched her every second, admiring her from afar as she walked down the aisle. As she kissed Henery before looking up at Will on the altar. He winced and closed his eyes when the couple leaned in to seal their marriage with a kiss.

Penelope had asked if you were okay, wondering why you were so quiet on such a momentous occasion. But if Spencer could hide his feelings for J.J. from the team, then you could remain undetected as well.

When the afternoon bled into a beautiful moon lit night, the glittering lanterns lighting up the yard in which Rossi hosted, you felt hopeless.

Both because you desperately wanted to wipe that sad look off of Spencer's face and because your bubble of delusion was popped.

For years, you secretly hoped he felt the same for you. From the brief glances of adoration, he would throw at you to the blinding smiles he would greet you with. There was not a moment you hoped you weren't overthinking every little reaction, every little touch or laugh.

Turns out you were just as delusional as the monsters you hunted. To think you were good enough to possibly become the object of Spencer's affection. To think you were brilliant enough to even gain his attention, to interest him beyond friendship.

You sat at the table, sandwiched between Penelope and Derek and across the table from Spencer, knee deep in self-loathing. It felt like you were wading through sludge, the world around you moving slow like dripping honey.

You caught Spencer's eye, and he offered you that same tight-lipped, polite, 'I'm definitely not okay if you look past my quickly crumbling mask of normalcy!' smile. You offered one back.

It was safe to assume he was feeling just as broken as you were at that moment, watching the love of his life look at someone else with such adoration and love.

And it broke your heart. Made you feel like a self-absorbed pile of human shit because here you were, wallowing in your own internal battle while Spencer was shattering before you.

You look at him, trying to subtly ask him if he is okay with your eyes. You hoped he wasn't so out of it with sorrow that his profiling skills were rendered useless.

He simply looked away as Rossi stood and tapped his fork against his glass. David gave a heartwarming speech about timing and happiness, pointing a loving hand towards the grinning couple at the head of the table.

Everyone was clapping and smiling, congratulating the newlyweds and their wishing their future the best. Even Spencer was participating, his manurisms and expression genuine for the first time that night.

When they kissed again, Spencer stood and excused himself. No one was really paying attention to him, more focused on each other and the joy that filled the air. No one even thought of sadness being present at a time like this.

You cought Spencer's expression as he walked into the house and you were standing before you could even think.

"Where's the fire, sugar?"

Penelope asked, your studden movement gaining the attention of the technical analyst.

"Bathroom."

You murmured, more focused on reaching Spencer than drawing the curious eye of the infamous meddler.

You were in the house and wandering the halls before she could say anything else, your eyes peeled for any indication as to where Spencer went.

He wasn't on the first floor, nor the second, not in the garage or in the kitchen. You couldn't find him, no matter where you looked. Hell, you even looked in the linen closet.

When you pass the mud room, you see a tall, lanky silhouette in the stained glass of the front door.

You were twisting the knob not a moment later, heart racing a mile a minute. Spencer was standing on the porch, still as a statue. You could see the tension in his body, in the way he held his hands at his sides, the way his shoulders never seemed to relax.

You know he heard you open the door, knew his moment of peace was interrupted.

"Are you okay?"

You ask, testing the waters by gently closing the door and standing next to him. You didn't look at him, no matter how bad you wanted to.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

His voice was carefully crafted, even, and steady. If you didn't know him, you would have thought everything was fine and dandy. But you did know him. You knew him like the back of your hand.

There was a strained layer to the way he spoke. It was the same tone he used on you and the team while he was addicted to Dilaudid, the same tone he used after Gideon left. Carefully hidden turmoil so he didn't have to burden anyone with his 'pathetic' emotions.

You knew him too well.

"You can talk to me, Spence."

"I'm fine, really. I just needed some air."

The lie was blatant on his face. He was begging you to drop it to leave him be so he could keep his composure until he was alone in his apartment. You didn't want to leave it alone, his pain bleeding into yours, amplifying all the hurt and hopelessness you'd felt all night.

"Spence-"

"Drop it."

That sadness, that misery that swirled beneath the surface, was replaced with ire. You knew he didn't mean to take it out on you but in your already fragile mental state the glare he pinned you with cut so deep you feared you'd never stop bleeding.

He left, shouldering past you and back into the house to most likely join the party with his fake fucking smile and his painfully obvious suffering.

You couldn't move, couldn't get your legs to take you back no matter how hard you tried. You were stuck, both emotionally and physically.

The next breath you took left you staggering. You had to sit, had to prevent the inevitable collapse you were destined to have. The cold, hard wood of the porch bit into your knees as you dropped, a broken sob wrenching its way out of your throat.

Another one clawed past that lump, building, and building until you couldn't hold back any longer. You bit your lip, tasting the blood that spilled into your mouth as you tried and failed to keep your sobs a bay.

The wails of agony had you hunched in on yourself, the power of them shaking your body and scratching your throat. Briefly, you thought of gaining the attention of any of the partygoers, your shattering drawing them to the porch so they could bear witness to your destruction.

You'd rather die than succumb someone to that, so you bit down on your knuckle. You were still so loud, your lip and knuckle aching from your teeth.

The door opened, and you froze, body still shaking with emotion as you lay there in a heap of pity.

"Oh my god, sugar plumb!" Penelope gasps, rushing to your side and leaving the door wide open. "What happened?"

You continued to sob uncontrollably, hands absently reaching for Penelope’s hand and drawing yourself into her comforting embrace.

Your words were broken by hiccuping wails, face wet with snot and tears.

"I love him, Pen."

"Will?"

She pulls back and looks at your broken face, holding you by the shoulders as she levels you with a confused face.

"No, Spencer."

You'd never said it out loud before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt as if your entire world was just tilted on its axis.

"Oh, honey pot,"

She draws you into her embrace again, smoothing your hair with gentle pets, cooing sweet nothings until you are numb. Quiet and calm, but numb. Void of the emotion that so fiercely burned within you just moments ago.

"He loves someone else."

You say pathetically, your voice monotone and as empty as you feel.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"I can't stand it anymore, Pen. Watching him yearn for her."

"Shhh." She coos, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "Everything will be okay."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Three months have passed since the wedding. Everything wasn't okay.

You walked the earth with that same, cold, unending nothingness that overtook you that night in Penelope’s arms.

She made it her mission to make you feel better. Making jokes, setting you up, hosting girls' night out, and slumber parties. Everything she could think of, she dragged you along with her. But it felt like your world ended that night.

Spencer wasn't the same either. He didn't ask you to go to the library with him, didn't try and pull you along with him and Penelope to their various conventions, and didn't smile at you when you greeted him.

He was numb too.

There was a loss of two loves that evening, a great love story missed. The paths of fate are so close yet they never converge, never collide.

You went on a blind date once.

Never again.

He was fine. He was smart, handsome, and funny. But not as smart, as handsome, as funny. He wasn't Spencer.

It felt like you missed your chance, that if you did something better, something right, he would have chosen you. You could have made him happy.

"The heart wants what it wants. There is no logic to these things. You meet someone, and you fall in love, and that's that." - Woody Allen.

[no1lucanispegger]

This is a fun prompt!

The thing about my Rook Mirevas is... as an ancient elf who was once a spirit of valor, she's older than the institution of marriage. After the war with the Titans when the elves had time to develop their own marriage ceremonies, those ceremonies were less about the people getting married and more about honoring the god they followed and receiving their blessing.

Mirevas (then called Enasalin) spent many centuries at Elgar'nan's side as his champion before she defected to Solas's rebellion. Weddings dedicated to him were grandiose to the highest degree. Anything less than monumental grandeur would result in the complete incineration of the couple that dared to waste their lord's time.

Weddings made for anxious nobles, which in turn made for anxious slaves. Anxious slaves made for mistakes, and mistakes in the presence of Lord Elgar'nan...

You get the picture.

Suffice it to say, Mirevas didn't enjoy weddings. After she rebelled, shedding the title Enasalin, victory, for Mirevas, blade of freedom, she could finally be with her one true love: Felassan. By that point, however, marriage wasn't exactly a priority for either of them. They were the Dread Wolf's blade and the Dread Wolf's arrow, respectively. The rebellion had to come first.

Once that rebellion failed, Mirevas and Felassan still didn't marry. Terms like husband and wife were insufficient. There was no word in the common tongue for what those two were to each other. The only title they ever needed was Vhenan. They clawed their way through the ages, side by side, with nothing and no one but each other.

That is, until Solas woke up and destroyed her world for the second time.

After Felassan's murder, Mirevas never thought she could love again. All she knew was pain and rage, heartbreak and betrayal, valor twisted into recklessness. Her grief cut her off from her dreams, and she cut herself off from everything else. The thought of marriage to anyone but Felassan sickened her.

But then she met an assassin, a blade himself who'd been wielded by a vicious master, sharp but shattered, and a freedom fighting detective who reminded her of what she used to be before the Dread Wolf broke her. Felassan would always be her heart, but Neve and Lucanis helped it beat again.

She'd marry them both in a heartbeat, but only after the south was restored and she could finally, for once in her horrifically long life, put down her blade. She'd want to do it in the Lighthouse, surrounded by all of her new friends and the memories of her old ones. She'd wear a dress gifted to her by Felassan millennia ago, once lost but returned by the Caretaker.

They'd have a reception at the Cantori Diamond with fried fish plates, a coffee wedding cake, and a chocolate fountain with churros for dipping.

They'd all have wedding bands, but Lucanis would wear two—one for him and one for Spite, who would never let Lucanis marry Mirevas unless he could marry her too.

But Mirevas loves Spite too, so it would work out well for everyone.

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

[maretinelli]

Masterlist FORMULA 1🏁

By maretinelli

Female reader

LEWIS HAMILTON

I CAN'T LOSE YOU: They have known each other for years, they work at Mercedes and are best friends. But only time will tell how they feel about each other.

I CAN'T LOSE YOU²

I CAN'T LOSE YOU³

BORTOLETO-HAMILTON: With her younger brother and husband racing together in Formula 1, Y/n's nerves are doubled when they're both on the track.

NEWS BETWEEN SISTERS: When George and Carmen arrange a dinner to give the good news to their in-laws, but Y/n also had good news to give to her sister.

NOT US, THEM: When Lewis finds a pregnancy test in the bathroom and thinks his bride is pregnant, but the story is not exactly like that.

SWEET NIGHT: When the little Hamilton family has a fun night out with their little girl and Roscoe.

OUR SWEET LITTLE, NINA: When Lewis's one-year-old daughter first appears in the paddock to watch her father race.

SINCE ALWAYS: Lewis and Y/n were like they were attached at the hip. Ever since they were kids, the two of them were there for each other, supporting, caring, and celebrating. But the truth was that they had been in love with each other since they were teenagers, and Lewis's invitation for her to be his fake girlfriend at a wedding made their feelings come to light.

ANYONE AGAINST THIS MARRIAGE: Lewis and his chief engineer, Y/n, shared a forbidden romance that was cut short to protect their careers. Years later, Y/n stands at the altar, about to marry another man, when Lewis makes a shocking decision: he resigns from Mercedes and does the unthinkable to win back the love of his life.

OSCAR PIASTRI

FATAL ACCIDENT: When Oscar goes to watch Y/n's last race, the last thing he would imagine was that his girlfriend's car would start to roll over in the last laps.

CATS: When she could, Y/n always attended the races with her boyfriend. However, the last time she found a box of surprises in the Paddock, and as a veterinarian, she had to take them home.

ANESTHESIATED BY LOVE: Oscar takes time off work to accompany his,girlfriend to the dentist to have her wisdom teeth removed, and when she is anesthetized, she begins to go crazy with love.

TEARS OF A SAD PAST: When Y/n finds old photos of her in her father's house, all the emotions come flooding back when she remembers how hard it was for them to survive back then. Telling all the sad stories, now to her husband, Oscar.

A GREAT MOTHER TO BE: Y/n Piastri has a pediatric dentist office and this leads to many fun conversations with the children. Oscar overhears one of the genuine conversations and is sure that she will be a great mother in a few months

TURNS FROM THE PAST: Y/n and Oscar Piastri were once young lovers, but the pressure of racing and the distance between them tore them apart. Years later, they meet again when Y/n is hired as a Mechanical Engineering Assistant for McLaren. The tension between what once was and what is now puts them both to the test, as past feelings begin to resurface.

OLLIE BEARMAN

CHRISTMAS SURPRISE: When Y/n thinks her boyfriend won't be able to catch a flight to spend Christmas with her and her family, but Ollie and the girl's brothers already had a plan.

CAPTAIN HEART: When Formula 1 rookie, Ollie Bearman, becomes enchanted by an incredibly talented handball player.

CYCLING AROUND LONDON: When Ollie wants to ride a bike in the park with,his girlfriend, but she doesn't know how to ride a bike, this makes Ollie the first person to change that.

BLIND DATE: Y/n and Ollie have mutual friends but never met. Tired of their constant missed chances, the group decides to organize a blind date to finally bring them together. Reluctantly, they agree to the idea, but by the end of the date, they realize exactly why their friends were so eager to match them.

SECRET FOR ONE YEAR: When Ollie and Y/n have been dating for almost one year, the only person who doesn't know yet is George. Y/n's older brother.

LANDO NORRIS

YOUR LOVE HURTS: Years of friendship bind Y/N and Lando, but also prevent them from confessing the love they feel. He tries to escape his feelings by getting involved with other women, while she finds herself in frustrating dates that were secretly sabotaged by her best friend. However, some secrets cannot be hidden forever.

SWEET DISASTERS: All the times Y/n was so clumsy and got genuine laughs out of her boyfriend.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

I AM HERE: When Y/n goes through a traumatic moment at work, Daniel is the one who is there to make her feel good again.

OUR GIRLS: When Daniel is off work and decides to take care of his three girls while Y/n goes to work, but when she gets home at night she has a sweet surprise.

WICKED GAME: Where Y/n has had a genuine desire since her teenage years. And her husband, Daniel, ends up fulfilling it without knowing it.