#it would also passively raise his love if you keep wearing it everywhere

[thedolsideblog]

if "clothing from an npc has a special tag or named" existed in dol 100% pc will get blythe's jacket put on them as a way to warm you up but also to show who do you belong to. and you go home with it and it has the flavor text of "blythe's jacket. its a bit oversized for you, but its comfortable. smells a bit sweet. firm and unassuming."

[erensproudsimp]

Work out

Armin Arlert x reader Oneshot

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : I woke up, thought of gym sex and wrote it

Word Count : 2.3k

"Come on y/n, going to the gym is not that bad plus Mikasa would be joining us too", Annie encouraged you.

"Working out seems so much of trouble that I certainly don't want to partake as I'd rather spend my energy to binge watch anime", you replied flatly eyes not moving away from your phone.

Snatching your phone Annie said with a serious face, "Y/n how do you expect to pull any of your anime crushes looking like a potato? "

"Hey! Give me my phone back and even if I do look like a potato Sasha would love me and don't bring my husbands in this topic!" you ran after her to retrieve your phone.

"Alright then, I'll pay you a KFC meal if you come for one day to at least try it out", Annie suggested.

"I don't know why you're so adamant about taking me to the gym but if there's free food involved, I'm in", you gave in.

"I just want you to stay fit you know and we're starting tomorrow so go to sleep", your roommate said preparing her gym bag.

"Whaaat nooo", you complained unaware of the impact that a stranger you're going to meet will have have on you.

The next morning both Annie and you hopped into Mikasa's car to go to the private gym owned by Mikasa's family and family friends.

"That's actually a relief to be able to work out without fearing strangers looking at you", you reassured yourself.

"Yeah it's gonna be really comfortable and I also would like to introduce you to some of my friends y/n, I know you're gonna like them", Mikasa added.

"Well can't say I'm not excited to meet them", you replied looking at your phone reading a fanfiction.

Couple of minutes later you reached your destination. From the outside the building looked very modern with transparent glasses through which you could see the inside and barely any life around made the place peaceful.

When you went inside, Mikasa took you both to the changing room where you left your stuff on the shelf to change your outfit.

Putting your towel on your shoulders followed by Annie, Mikasa led the way to her friends who were lifting weights.

"Hey guys", Mikasa said to get their attention, "This is y/n and Annie and this is Eren and Armin", she said pointing at each person respectively.

"Pleasure to meet you two", Armin said as Eren nodded with him.

You swore that the moment you saw the blonde boy, your heart skipped a beat. He was so effortlessly gorgeous.

"Same here, hope to have a good gym buddy relation with you two", Annie replied as you were lost in your reflection. Snapping yourself from your thoughts, you agreed with her.

After that y'all left the boys to let them do their previous activities and went to train yourselves. With your unfit body you were tired from the first exercise itself and was laying on the ground trying to catch your breath.

You failed to understand how could Mikasa and Annie keep going but you were not going to give up and decided to look at it as a new challenge for yourself.

Picking yourself up, you went to do something easy as a starter which was skipping ropes.

Little did you know that the blonde guy had been sneaking peeks at you from time to time smiling to himself.

One hour later, everyone decided to take a break to refuel their energy.

"So, what are we going to eat", you questioned.

" Why not soup? I've been craving miso soup for a while," Armin proposed, everyone settling on soup.

Getting into the car, Eren drove us to the nearest fast food restaurant. Inside you sat between Annie and Armin. Filled with anxiety of Armin being so close to you, you fidgeted with your hands to keep yourself stable. Armin noticed your restlessness and asked if you were okay but you couldn't possibly tell him that you were crushing hard on him so you just replied with a 'I'm fine' and concentrated on your food.

"What are your majors?" Eren asked you and Annie to make conversation.

"I am doing engineering and y/n's an art student explaining why she's so lazy", Annie responded.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Annie, I am not lazy", you said passive-aggressively looking at Annie with murder in your eyes.

"Says the girl who could barely run to take her phone from me yesterday", she coughed smirking.

"No- I - bye-", you stammered making Armin erupt into a fits of laughter. His laugh gave the impression as though angels came down on earth to bestow you with blessings which in this case was the cute sound of his voice. You didn't realise that you were staring at him until Armin spoke, "Is there something on my face?"

"Yes," you said casually swipping the little ketchup stain near his mouth with a tissue. His cheeks were a light pink colour because of your action and he thanked the heavens for not letting his friends noticing what just happened.

"Th-thank you", he bashfully thanked.

"Sure", you said looking away to hide your blush.

Finishing your meals, y'all returned to the gym to continue training then took your leave after two hours. Saying your byes to the boys, Mikasa gave you both a ride to your dorm.

Throwing your body on your bed you heaved a sigh of relief that you were able to survive this first day of going to the gym.

"Tired already y/n ? Too bad we're going to do this routine everyday", Annie commented.

"I guess time to fill the fridge with energy drinks", you jumped out of bed to buy bundles of different brands of said drink.

The only thing that would be keeping you going about working out was that you were able to see Armin everyday.

Due to your classes running late one day you reached the gym at 06 00 pm. Everyone was still there; you greeted them and went to use the treadmill. At around half past seven your friends were hungry and decided to go to a nearby takeout to bring food to the gym because you didn't want to come out of exhaustion.

"You guys go ahead, I would keep y/n company", Armin told them.

Soon you were left alone with Armin and not knowing what to say out of shyness you excused yourself to the bathroom.

There you freshened up yourself to make yourself look more presentable to your crush. Luck was in your stars as you were wearing leggings that gave your ass a nice curve with a matching colour sportsbra.

When you came out, you saw that Armin was missing. You assumed that he too went to the restroom and decided to do squats. A little while later the man indeed returned from the wc. His breath was caught in his throat when he saw you.

He came up to you and asked if you needed any help regarding your training.

"Actually I do, would you assist me in doing sit ups?" you requested.

"Yeah sure, I'll hold your shoes while you're doing them," Armin accepted.

Laying your body on the mat, you watched Armin going in front of you to your feet and held them down. You began to lift your body with your hands on the back of your head as you realised how close your faces were being when you were raised up. You never realised how broad his shoulders were until then and you gulped hard.

"How much do you plan on doing?" Armin asked.

"I'm setting a limit of thirty but let's see if I manage to exceed it." He nodded. Gosh, how does someone manage to look cute and hot at the same time?!

At your 15th sit-up you lifted up your body to make eye contact with him as you were with the previous sit-ups but this time it lasted longer because you stayed still. Both of you gazed into the eye of each other without saying a word your faces becoming closer. You didn't realise what you were doing. It wasn't long until both of your lips touched each other. When your senses were brought back to you, you pulled back so quickly. For a second you saw a frown on Armin's face.

"OMG! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do this, I swear," you apologized frenzily.

"It's okay, I don't mind at all," Armin just chuckled at your reaction. He came closer and tucked your hair to your ear.

"Have you ever realised how beautiful you were?" he whispered in your ear making all your blood rush to your head.

"I - I- mmph," you were cut off by Armin

colliding his mouth with yours. He sucked on your lower lip asking permission to let his tongue enter your mouth. You opened it a little only for him to stuck in his whole muscle.

You left out a small moan feeling his tongue roaming everywhere while his hand untied your hair and was playing with it.

He had the most tender lips that you ever felt in your life. Giving you a forehead kiss, he held your face in his hands stroking it with his thumb.

You crawled to sit on his lap as he continued to shower you with affection. His head pats were so gentle, you were melting under his touch. He bowed to gain access to your neck and gave it a subtle lick and then proceeded to find your sweet spot kissing you everywhere. A small mewl left your lips when he kissed a certain spot. The man was proud of himself to have found it and attacked it with hickeys. At this point you were shaking on his thighs and in his embrace.

Your hands reached the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off him. His sweaty body glowed in the light yet he looked so heavenly. You couldn't help but lick his collarbones leaving your saliva on his skin.

The fear of getting caught by your friends during this sinful moment turned you on.

Armin's hand gave your ass a tender squeeze before making you lay your whole body on the mat as he left a trail of kisses from your neck your stomach. He grabbed your waist to kiss your on your bellybutton.

"Is it okay if I remove it?" he said hinting at your leggings. You lifted your lower body to help him remove it and threw it away. He gave your core a kiss then carried you in bridal style to place you on the bench press.

He spread your legs and buried his face between them. You wouldn't have never expected such an innocent face to do such unholy things to your body in your life. He sucked your clit which sent electrics all throughout your body. He ate you out as though you were the most tastiest meal he's ever had. You crushed his head with your thighs but he didn't seem to mind that as he continued doing his job. You were pulling his hair so hard screaming his name making sure people passing nearby could hear how good he was making you feel.

His soft hands ran through your thighs making small circle motions on them to soothe you.

"Ar-Armin, I-,"

"It's okay love you can spill it on my face, I want every single drop down my throat," Armin panted.

What he said set off a trigger and the knot in your stomach snapped. All your juices went on Armin's face and he ensured to have swallowed everything.

He retreated away from your opening swipping your cum with his fingers and licking them off. While you were collecting your breath, Armin took off his sweatpants and let his hardened dick free.

"Do you mind if I -," he insinuated with his dick at your entrance.

"Please Armin don't hesitate," you were practically begging him. You expected him to slide it in but instead he was stroking your folds with his swollen member. This felt so good it sent you in a rollercoaster of immense pleasure. You could feel his veins pulsating against your own pulsating clit.

While he was caressing your cunt, his hands went to grab your boobs and fondled them.

His up and down motion continued as he was mixing his precum with your wetness.

Your overwhelming neediness pushed you to grind on him as he was moving so slowly. With instinct you lifted your hips as shivers were sent through your spine. Noticing this Armin picked up speed and with his hand rubbed your clit hard. He bent over to give you a kiss on your nose then to make out with you.

"Ah-ah, y/n-I'm going to cum," Armin moaned.

"Cum with me Armin," you breathed.

Suddenly he picked up more speed and thrusted faster. His dick was moving so quick on you, the lewd sound of your pussy's liquids filled the gym. Armin held your hands and intertwined your fingers. He let out a grunt as he came on your stomach and you on the bench.

He looked at you with such love in his eyes and reached out to wipe your tears and kissed your hands.

He fetched your leggings while he also cleaned the bench leaving no marks of this incident. Since your legs were shaking so much you could barely walk, Armin carried you to the bathroom.

After you went to pee, he made you sit on a stool and he tied your hair back in a ponytail. Hugging you from the back he asked, "Are you feeling okay now beautiful or do you need anything?"

"Water?" you replied.

"Anything for you," he went to fetch the requested item.

Just at that moment your friends returned.

You thanked the universe for not making them arrive while you were making love with Armin and you kept your cool acting as though nothing happened.

Thus, this was the start of a wonderful relationship.

End.

Thank you for reading. :)

[navyhyuck]

week one | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: hi hi hi fellas here’s the first part (technically, since the other one was an intro) <3 uhh a little fun fact! this project mentioned in this chapter was one that i actually had to complete last year (before corona lol) and i thankfully got a good grade on it even tho my teacher swore on all gods that it was very difficult,, he also let me put up nct posters in the classroom <3 enjoy :) [also, i may have missed some tags!!! if you aren’t here and you sent in an ask before, please do so again since it’s been some time since i last updated this!! ty mwah]

wc :: 2.2k

taglist: @childofthecycle @takoyakkun @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cherry-jaemin @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

There have been far too many unfortunate events unfolding in your day so far, starting off with the stupid guy that had parked just a little into your spot (that still had you thinking more than you had to do for any science test, and you were highly tempted to just smash the car instead) and then moving onto your English class where you were given a pop quiz on the third act of Romeo and Juliet, and then finally, the situation you’re in now.

It’s the last period of your day, which is supposed to be the most laid back in certain cases, but you’re slumped in your desk in the AP Chemistry lab room for a new assignment of partners. You’ve already attempted to convince Mrs. Choi to let you continue being partners with Chaeryeong, who was looking equally as gloomy from the opposite side of the room, but she had passively dismissed your request with something that went along the lines of ‘expanding our knowledge as a class.’ Not only did that sound like bullshit to you, it actually was, but you didn’t do anything more than stay put as she called out the assignments of partners.

“...Chaeryeong and Jisoo. Beomgyu and Yuna. Y/N and Jisung.”

You’re frozen at the sound of your partner’s name, slightly expecting your teacher to pair you up with one of the overachievers that usually sat in the back and talked shit about the ‘untalented’ kids, but you’re also pleasantly surprised. Turning your head, you meet the said boy’s eyes from a distance, shining into yours before a smile spreads across his face almost immediately. You return one back (probably forcibly from the shock you’re experiencing of the Han Jisung actually recognizing you and smiling at you) before whipping your head back to the front, gulping deeply.

Fuck.

“Now that we’ve split into pairs, there is a list of chemical compounds on this table. Come up with your partner and choose one wisely. After everyone’s chosen, I will tell you what your assignment is.” Mrs. Choi gestures vaguely with her hands, turning away as the rest of the students move around to find their partner. You stay planted in your seat, eyes barely staying open as you quietly continue to try and calm the beating of your heart. You’re sure that it’s not healthy, the erraticness overflowing to every single vein and artery in your body until you’re filled with the filling remembrance that your teacher just paired you up with the single most attractive boy in the school. Well—you purse your lips, thinking about that Hyunjin guy from yesterday—Jisung still causes more heart palpitations than some new guy could ever.

When you deem yourself safe enough to finally use your legs without thinking about falling, you stand up, meeting your partner halfway in the middle of the classroom. He doesn’t say anything at first, possibly because you’ve found a newfound interest in your dirty Converse, but he chuckles as a few seconds pass by, making you look up. “Hey there, thanks for looking at me. Wanna go choose a compound?”

You blanch at his choice of words, but you nod slowly. “Uh-huh, yeah. Sure.”

You learn later, alongside Jisung, that your assignment was to successfully convert your chemical compound into another, with exact proportions being massed properly. Just as you listen to Mrs. Choi going on and on about proper dilution, you slowly start blanking out into the space of ‘why did my dumbass decide to take this class’ and ‘this isn’t worth the pain that I’m receiving.’ Thankfully, Jisung has an equally shocked look at his face as the explanation continues, and you’re sure that there isn’t a way the two of you would be able to complete the assignment properly. There was no way; it was practically impossible.

“I just want to remind you guys that this is definitely possible! Students have succeeded well in the past years! You and your partner should be working together as efficiently as possible, which is why I mixed it up a little this time. There should not be any distractions, understood?” Mrs. Choi finishes, nodding as if someone had actually answered her rhetorical question. “Also, I’ll be grading you on how well you manage your time, so if there’s unnecessary chit-chat, that’ll be points deducted from your grade. No exceptions. Got it?”

You think maybe she’s referring to the time you and Chaeryoung accidentally fucked up the entire experimental process by forgetting to set a timer (it was because the two of you were preoccupied by a TikTok dance, though you would never admit it to anyone), or maybe the time that Jaehyun guy almost set half the chemistry lab on fire by not disposing of chemicals properly. You’d think the school would be a little more careful considering they’re letting teenage students handle dangerous chemicals, but thinking of the time that your teacher told you it was fine to handle acid without wearing gloves, it clearly was never a practice.

You and Jisung start to prepare, with you carefully reading through the reaction process several times and measuring out the chemicals as precisely as possible while Jisung handles the rest of the equipment, bringing over pipettes and scales. As the two of you continued working for the rest of the class period, only till the very end did you notice that you were, possibly for once, actually using all of your class time properly.

“Are you going to homecoming?” Jisung asks as you set down the beaker on the scale, startling you with a non-chemistry related question. If you were being honest, you hadn’t thought about it; homecoming wasn’t too big of a thing at your school to begin with, plus, there wasn’t even the cliche dance that everyone thought they’d get as kids. It was one of the first home games played by the football team (which was pretty shitty, for the record) and they crowned a homecoming king and queen every year. Honestly, it was usually a bore.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. Maybe constantly reminding yourself every two seconds that Han Jisung was speaking to you would help, but you couldn’t get over it. At least not today. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He hums thoughtfully, taking the beaker from you as you pass it along.

“Have you ever gone to a swim meet before?” His question sounds rather interrogative in nature, and he seems to notice, stumbling over his words for the first time. “Um—I mean, have you gone to any of our swim meets before? You see, I’m on the team and I feel like I’ve seen you before at one of them, and it’s fine if you have gone! I’m just curious.” He holds up his hands in defense as if he’d said something wrong, the chemical splashing around in the beaker as you widen your eyes.

“Fuck, be careful,” you retrieve the object from his hand, placing it down safely on the table to ensure you weren’t going to take after the setting-the-classroom-on-fire guy. Jisung watches as you do so, perhaps overanalyzing the fact that your gloved fingers brushed past his in that moment, now an apologetic look forming over his face. “Sorry, you were about to spill it on yourself.”

“No, it’s fine!” He replies, the volume of his voice attracting attention from the nearby classmates, including Chaeryoung, who gives you a small smirk. You return a pointed glare in her direction, trying to calm down as you realize you’re overheating from the situation at hand right now. “Shit, sorry, that was kind of loud.”

“It’s okay, Jisung,” his name tastes unfamiliar on your tongue, only having been used around Ryujin earlier. Ryujin, you remember, my best friend that’s practically in love with the boy standing in front of me. “I’ve been to your swim meets before, I mean—no offense but—who hasn’t? You guys are undoubtedly the best team in school, who wouldn’t want to watch?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckles wryly, sounding a bit forced. You decide to ignore it and continue working on the project. Thankfully, your teacher gave the class a few days to work on it, or else it would be essentially impossible to finish. “Wait, aren’t you usually there with your friend? The one with the blue hair?”

You raise your eyebrows, somehow already feeling just a little more comfortable around him. He isn’t as stuck up as you expected, and he definitely doesn’t act like a cocky little shit either. Most importantly, he seems to be just as nervous as you. A small smile forms on your lips. “You mean Ryujin?”

“Ah, yeah! Her.”

“Ryujin and I usually go to watch swim meets together, or at least, she drags me around everywhere and that’s one of the places I’m forced to go.” You chuckle at the memory of her towing you towards the pool, swearing that she’ll buy you a hundred dollars worth of milkshakes for the next month if you keep her company. She never kept the promise, but you still remember the feeling of watching people competitively swim. More importantly, the seven most popular boys in the school at the time. “But I go voluntarily now. I think everyone has to have some sort of school spirit, right?”

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights and you don’t notice, but Jisung gulps, avoiding your gaze after a split second. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Totally, definitely.”

The conversation awkwardly ends there, a little weird but better than having to continue talking about how many times you’ve seen him backstroke his way to a medal. You’re not sure if Jisung even knows how popular going to a swim meet is, because when you ask him, he answers with: “I thought all sports got the same audience.” They don’t, that’s confirmed, unless the dance team was performing as well.

The bell rings a few moments later, finally signalling the end of the day with a deep sigh from you. You clean up as quickly as you can, bidding your new partner (and maybe friend) a goodbye to the rest of the day. As you yank out your phone from your bag, going out into the hallway towards your locker, you spot Chaeryoung from the corner of your eye, brushing past you dramatically with a whisper of:

“You’re whipped already.”

dear y/n love,

this is my second letter to you. hopefully, unless you didn’t receive the first one for some reason. but if this is the second one, hi! i hope you had a great day today and if you didn’t, i hope you feel better. i think you probably find this weird, the love letter sort of thing, it’s super cliche and everything so i’d get it if you decided to take this and, like, throw it out or something. but please don’t! please don’t throw it out, i’d be very upset. not that you’d know anyway, but :)

you’re also probably wondering, ‘why is this guy sending me stuff without telling me who he is?’ well, i’m glad to say that i have a purpose. it is, well, just to make you happy. life is hard, ya know, and i don’t think a lot of us would be able to get through everything without someone by their side. not that you don’t have anyone by your side! i’m sure you do, you have friends and family that support you as well, but since i unfortunately do not fall into either of those categories, i have to resort to written letters.

anyway, i’m ending this letter quickly considering my class is ending in hmm, like four minutes? i want to make enough time to get to your locker and give it to you, hopefully without you ever noticing, but if you did end up finding out who i am…just forget about that part. yeah, like my face and all? erase that memory from your pretty head. i’m so sorry, i just realized how much i just didn’t get to a point with this letter at all.

in a few days is the homecoming game, and i may or may not have a little surprise waiting for you there. if you’d like to come, that’s awesome, if not, that’s perfect as well. i know the last thing you’d do is trust someone you don’t know, and it might be a little hypocritical of me to say this, but trust me. in the least creepy way, i will say that yes, you do know me, maybe not as well as i know you. shitttt that sounds so creepy, i deeply apologize. i’m just your secret admirer, that’s it, not a stalker omg. now it sounds like i’m a stalker. okay, anyway.

please come to homecoming, i won’t reveal myself to you just yet (maybe not ever, but it depends) but i have something waiting for you. it’s NOT a death wish, cross my heart, for real.

signed, jay

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ��keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[the-fallen-order]

devil eyes.

I’ll be honest with you all, I’ve never posted any of my writing. Super nervous, honestly. I was sent a Star Wars fic by a friend and I kept getting the urge to write.. Between me and two friends (they helped with ideas), this is a bit of what we came up with. I’m going to post it on ao3, I think, but I’m a bit self-conscience and kinda scared lol. 

This isn’t the whole thing, just a bit - I’d love some (constructive) feed back..

While Hera is an OC, I tried to leave her fairly ambiguous, so you can view her however you want. I have an idea in my head of what she looks like, but I will leave that up to the reader (unless anyone is interested in what I envisioned). 

(PS. Yes, I know there is a Hera in Rebels, completely unrelated)

I’m also up for collaboration, or doing one shots! I tried really hard to keep stuff canon, but I’m not perfect.  It doesn’t look like any formatting copied over, so I apologize for that! 

This is set AFTER the ending of S2 of The Mandalorian. I don’t believe there are any spoilers...

................

Tattooine.

A wasteland the Huntress was certainly not keen to be on again. It was hot, almost unbearably so, with more sand than she had ever cared to see in her lifetime. An unremarkable planet with twin suns, once home to Jabba the Hutt and his palace. She had visited the palace once, had watched someone – a slave that had done Jabba wrong, she presumed – get dumped into the rancor pit, and she had never wanted to return. The only saving grace of the planet was the podracing.

Yet, money talked, and she found herself back on the awful planet once more, tracking a quarry through the vast desert wasteland of Tattooine. She had narrowed her search down to a small village sitting at the bottom of a mountain - an interesting place to hide, she thought, considering there were much better places to play hide and seek with a bounty hunter. The tracking fob in her hand was blinking more steadily now, indicating she was in the right place. Placing it back in her pocket, she reached up to readjust the hood of her black cloak before pulling her binoculars off her belt to get an idea of what exactly she had gotten herself into.

She knew there would be more bounty hunters coming – Greef Karga, who had given her the bounty puck – was notorious for handing out more than one puck for the same bounty, especially when they were high priority. Most hunters within the guild dreamed of getting bounties like this, but very few were qualified for the High Risk, High Reward type of bounties. Which led to a lot of resentment towards the hunters that were qualified.

The village seemed devoid of any natives. The Quarry had most likely captured the ones that inhabited it or had them killed if they resisted. The beings left milling about were undoubtedly guards hired to protect him, most likely heavily armed, too. At least ten, from what she could see through the binoculars, with an unknown amount inside the huts. It would be challenging, but doable.

“Don’t move.” A modulated voice from behind her broke her train of thought. Her breath hitched as the tip of a blaster was pressed against the back of her head. Another bounty hunter, no doubt. How did I not hear him?

She slowly raised her hands. “I’m in the guild.” The Huntress said.

“I know.” He replied. “This is my bounty.”

Uh huh...

“Maybe we can make a deal,” She suggested, “There’s at least ten guards down there, with who knows how many inside the huts waiting for us.”

He was quiet, watching her. The Huntress slowly turned around to face him, hands still raised in the air, her eyes widening at the sight of Beskar. Oh, fuck. A Mandalorian. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not good.

There had been talk of another Mandalorian bounty hunter, one that wasn’t Boba Fett, one that was ruthless during his hunts and never backed down from a fight. He had been Blacklist approved.  He seemed to be following in the footsteps of the one and only Fett, with some kind of vendetta against the galaxy fueling him.

“What’s the deal?” He asked finally, blaster still pointed at her head, his finger on the trigger.

“We can split the bounty.”

Dead silence.

Her heart was racing. She had had plenty of blasters pointed at her, had been shot at plenty of times, shot a couple times, but never by a Mandalorian. They were deadly warriors, not ones to be crossed or stand in the way of. Rare as they were nowadays, when one did show up, it was never a good sign.

“We do this my way, then.”

“Your way?” She shot back.

“Yes.”

“I was here first.”

He stared down at her cloaked figure, contemplating.

“I could kill you and have the bounty all to myself.” He said, almost passively, like he was toying with the idea.

Oh fuck. Think…think!

“Even that Beskar of yours can only protect you from so much, Mandalorian. Half of the pay is still better than none if we are both dead.”

“We do this my way, then.” He lowered the blaster to his side, kneeling down beside her, pressing a button on his vambrace that changed the view mode of the visor in his helmet. The Huntress lowered her hands, putting her binoculars back on her belt.

Stars, he was intimidating.

“Quarry is in the far -right hut.” The Mandalorian said, “With more guards hiding inside. Let’s go.”

She sighed quietly, mostly to herself, before following him down the side of the mountain. What am I thinking?

The Huntress stayed low, quietly making her way to the first hut, listening intently as the sound of enemy footsteps came towards her. Vibro-blade in hand, she moved swiftly, her free hand covering his mouth to muffle him as her other stabbed the blade into his neck, pulling him back behind the hut as he struggled against her. She twisted the blade in deeper, his body going limp in her arms as she pulled the blade out, dropping him to the ground.

She continued to make her way through the small village, quietly taking out guards with her vibro-blade as she went. As she set another now-dead guard on the ground, blaster fire suddenly erupted around her. She peaked around the edge of the hut she had snuck behind, watching as mass chaos unfolded in front of her.

Ah, the Mandalorian has been seen.

Guards were everywhere now; she had quietly taken out five, but those five had been replaced by another twenty and they were all shooting at the Beskar-clad target. She couldn’t blame them, though; he was a truly enticing target to shoot at.

Sheathing her vibro-blade, she pulled her blaster from it’s holster and open-fired at a few of the enemies, watching as the Mandalorian disintegrated one with his long rifle.

Impressive.

She kept her gaze on the Mandalorian whose cover was quickly becoming compromised. Turning her attention back to the guards, she began firing more rounds at the them to draw their attention away from him and onto her. The Mandalorian gave her a quick nod - she assumed it was his way of saying thank you - and used the opportunity she had provided to him to move his position and disappear behind the other huts.

Pulling a thermal detonator off of her utility belt, she armed it and threw it in the direction of the guards, peeking her head back out after it had detonated, eliminating the group. It was stupid of them to congregate in one area like that, but she supposed that’s what you got for hiring bandits to protect you, rather than highly trained mercenaries. Even with them being heavily armed, idiots could only do so much.

The blaster fire had mostly ceased after the blast, with one or two guards left trying their best to take out the two bounty hunters. She almost felt bad for them. Watching as one was disintegrated, she took out the last one standing and moved to join the Mandalorian in the last hut on the right.

Walking through the door, blaster drawn, she watched as the Mandalorian cuffed the bounty, who was pleading and crying to let him go, that it was all a misunderstanding. “Whatever you’re being paid, I’ll double it if you let me go!” The Huntress rolled her eyes at that - that was like the go-to statement of the century for quarries when they knew they were caught. She holstered her blaster, continuing to watch the Mandalorian. He pulled the bounty towards the door by the cuffs, stepping past her as if she didn’t exist.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you this was my bounty.” He replied.

“We made a deal.” He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Deals off.”

“Fight me for it.” She taunted, clenching her fists in preparation to fight. Her blaster was no use against the beskar, this she knew. The Mandalorian let go of the bounty, pulling the long shiny spear from off his back and turned to look at her. His body language conveyed the message to her very clearly; he was pissed.

“We had an agreement, Mandalorian.”

He charged at her, taking a swing at her with the spear. The Huntress crossed her arms at her wrists, letting her own beskar vambraces take the impact of the attack, the sound of beskar-on-beskar rang through the air as he pushed her backwards towards the wall. She stumbled a few steps backwards, regaining her balance as he swung again. She ducked, throwing a punch at his unprotected side, making contact. The Huntress quickly stepped back, activating the flamethrower on her vambrace, forcing him to step back away from her.

“Where did you get those?” He asked harshly. She disengaged the flamethrower, watching him cautiously, both of them poised to continue fighting. Mandalorian’s took their armor very seriously; especially when it was a dar’manda wearing the armor. This she knew all too well.

“This is my arm--“ Was all she managed to get out before he used the grappling line in his vambrace to constrict her, watching as it wrapped around her, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground with a thud.

She struggled to get loose from the line as he pulled her towards him, only stopping once she felt the familiar sensation of a blaster being pressed against her forehead. The Huntress stared up at him, fully expecting him to pull the trigger on her this time.

The silence between the two was almost palpable.

“…Kandosii?” It was almost a whisper, barely audible through the vocoder in his helmet. Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname - she hadn’t been called that in years. It was foreign, almost, the familiarity of it just out of her reach. The sound of the Beskar spear hitting the ground echoed through the hut as the Mandalorian studied her – the Mandalorian armor, now painted a familiar blue, her fighting style….her eyes.

She was alive.

[kathyprior4200]

The Chipper Cleaner

The Golden State of California hosted a melting pot of different cultures, cuisines and languages from around the world. The Great Depression of the 1930s hit families and businesses hard. Many people were out of jobs, some lived in the streets or in debilitated shacks close together. Mexican, European and Asian immigrants were often seen in camps, doing what they could to survive and live through the days. Men, women and sometimes children would help out in the fields and harvest wheat and food. It wasn’t uncommon to hear guitar playing or balls being kicked around or a few songs carried out in the desert air in an attempt to lift spirits up.

 To make matters worse, a terrible drought spread through the nation in 1930. Crops died from lack of water and harvests failed across farms in the U.S. Thousands went hungry as farms and homes were lost. The former prosperous economic growth and glory of the Roaring Twenties was reduced to memory.

 The 1940s would bring about World War 2, more women in the workforce and the internment of thousands of people with Japanese ancestry. For as diverse as California was, racism, sexism and discrimination were still commonplace everywhere.

 In the vibrant city of Los Angeles, California, a nifty little girl was born. Her name was Nerissa, born March 22nd, 1929. She was born to her parents: Hiroto and Akemi Nifuti. Her mother, Akemi was from Japan and arrived to Hawaii. Having only met her husband through sent pictures as a picture bride, she and Hiroto got married on the docks of Hawaii. She was disappointed to hear that Hiroto was older and didn’t have any luxury cars or clothes. Nevertheless, it was an escape from her family duties back in her home country, so she moved and married him. After working on the plantations for a while, the couple decided to move to California, where they lived in a rural area. Their small house was made of wood that was painted red and white.

 Close by their house was a field of wheat, soybeans and tomatoes growing on vines. Or at least, that’s how it should’ve looked during a good harvest. However, the drought had done a number on the family’s crops. The beans were small and dried up, the tomatoes hardly growing at all. The family had to be careful about not spending too much money…they made some of it selling their crops at a local farmer’s market. Thankfully, their jobs allowed them to keep a house and not go broke. Other families weren’t as lucky.

  Niffty’s father was a farmer and newspaper editor and her mother worked at a sewing factory. Since Niffty’s parents were often busy with work, they hired a sitter to take care of her. The sitter was white with brown hair and green eyes, in her early 30s. She would often wear pink dresses with white polka dots on it, her mousey brown hair tied back. Although Michelle Marie Ann was Caucasian, she treated Niffty like she was her own daughter. She watched Niffty crawl, babble, and slowly take her first steps.

 “Yay, nice job!” she said in a cooing tone as Niffty took her first steps across the floor before landing in a heap in her lap.

 Michelle looked over at Akemi and Hiroto. “She’s a fast learner,” Michelle remarked. Both parents were pleased. Hiroto then went out to water what was left of the crops, while Akemi sat in a large room to get a head start on some dresses and hats.

 Niffty started crying again and Michelle rocked her gently in her lap. Michelle let out a soft sigh and carried her to a bedroom to change her diaper.

 Whenever Akemi had time to spend with Niffty, she taught her the Japanese language and etiquette.

 Niffty started learning when she was a couple years old. Her mother would sing her songs and tell her stories. The little girl loved every minute of it. Niffty’s father would smile passively at them, before returning to work or have some drinks.

 Niffty would later learn to write several Japanese characters as well, at least at home or when writing letters to distant family members.

 “Hai. Yes,” Akemi said, with a nod of her head. Niffty copied the motion. “iie. No.” She shook her head, more of a frown on her face, before Niffty copied her.

 “Onegai shimasu? What’s that?”

 Niffty answered. “Please?”

 “Very good,” Akemi said.

 Of course, Niffty had to learn several things the hard way.

 “Nerissa! iie!” Akemi scolded when a four year old Niffty had arrived into the house wearing dirty shoes. She pointed back outside and Niffty slumped back out to take her shoes off.

 “Nerissa,” called her father. “I need your help digging up some dirt out here.” Niffty raced out and grabbed a small shovel. She helped her father dig holes and seek out fresh dirt to try and plant seeds.

 At dinner time, the family had sushi, onigiri rice balls and grilled chicken skewers called yakitori. Niffty was struggling with holding chopsticks. Hiroto had to chuckle as Niffty’s sushi kept slipping from in between the wooden utensils. Niffty reached to pick it up but Akemi stopped her with a glare. Niffty kept her little hand extended, the two members locked in a sort of stare down. Niffty tried using the chop sticks in one hand before both utensils rolled off the table and clattered to the floor. Niffty grabbed the sushi and popped it into her mouth with a giggle. Akemi sighed and slapped her hand to her forehead. Hiroti rolled his eyes and helped himself to more food.

 “Nerissa, dear you still have much to learn,” her mother said as Niffty bent down to pick up the sticks.

 Akemi also showed Niffty the very important duties of cleaning the house and sewing clothing. “I work at a sewing factory,” she said. “And more than likely, you’re gonna work in a similar job if not the same. Watch closely.”

 Niffty watched in curiosity as Akemi sat down and worked both a sewing machine and used her own hands. She weaved string of different colors through loops as she moved the sewing needles around in her hands. Niffty practiced on her own, sewing together a hole in a small cotton cap to start with. She fumbled several times but slowly got used to it. Several weeks later, she had made her first scarf.

 “Quite impressive,” Akemi praised.

 Niffty had poked at her fingers several times, but they eventually toughened up. Muscle memory took over in her fingers for many of the tasks she did. The more she performed them, the easier it felt…and the faster she did them. Sewing on buttons, bows and decorations was Niffty’s favorite part. It wasn’t long before she frequently helped out her mother with sewing and cleaning the house. It became an expectation for years afterward.

 “Scrub harder, Nerissa,” Akemi said as Niffty learned how to wash dishes. “You need to really get the stains off around the bottom rim of the pot. Like this.” She grabbed a sponge and moved it rapidly up and down and in circles. Niffty laughed as she got her hands soapy and wet. On occasion, Akemi would playfully splash her with water. They would have a quick water fight with loud giggles before returning to work.

 Cleaning chimneys was Niffty’s least favorite hobby. But it was one her father insisted she do. “You’ll eventually need to learn it if you ever get a somewhat decent job,” he reminded her. Women were working more, but opportunities were still very limited for them.

 Using thick dusters and other supplies, she could easily fit into the small space. She hated how dirty she got from the soot and ash. Niffty felt like Cinderella much of the time, from the hard cleaning work she did, to fantasizing about going to a ball and meeting a prince. Imagining herself as a beautiful princess helped pass the time. The water in the wooden wash bin would be black by the time Niffty was done washing herself off. She would scrub her skin for half an hour, trying to get the grime off as much as possible.

 Niffty soon she got some exciting news at age six: she was going to school for the first time. She was soon dropped off at Wellis Elementary, a yellow brick building. While at school, Niffty excelled at literature, home economics, art, reading, writing and history. She was also a fast runner in gym class as well. Math and science were subjects she struggled with.

 Nifty would spend hours reading the books in the classrooms. She would often be seen eagerly raising her hand to tell the answer. She had to learn to slow down on whatever activity she did…many of the classmates couldn’t keep up with her!

 “Shorty Jap! Shorty Jap!” jeered a bunch of mean older kids who shoved Niffty to the floor on her way to music. Niffty cried out, tears flowing down her cheeks. A nearby teacher arrived and took her to the nurse’s office.

 “Just a bruise on your knee but it should heal up in no time,” the nurse said as Niffty wiped her tears away.

 “Why are they so mean?” she sobbed. “What did I do?”

 “Those kids are mean to all the newcomers,” the nurse said. “They tend to pick on the little kids in particular.”

 “But I’m not that little,” Niffty said. “I just turned seven!”

 “Sorry, I thought you were four.”

 Niffty lowered her face, black bangs obscuring her forehead. Her face flushed in embarrassment. Her dress was white, her leggings tight and shoes were shiny and black. Her hair was short and black, her eyes dark brown and slanted. Her skin was a light brownish or as some bullies would mock, “yellow.” Indeed, Niffty was one of the shortest people in her class. There were rumors about her having a growth stunt, but Niffty had developed physically and mentally at a fast rate. Indeed, she was smarter than many kids her age.

 “Don’t let them get to you,” the nurse said. “Now hurry on back to class.”

 Fortunately, singing and playing instruments helped Niffty forget about the incident. “I’m gonna be a singer when I grow up!” she declared much to the bemusement of her classmates.

Niffty got home to see Michelle Marie Ann smiling warmly at her, wearing a fluffy lavender dress with a purple bow around her waist. Niffty remembered to leave her shoes outside.

 “How was school?” she asked.

 “It was fine,” she replied in a monotone.

 “Only fine? You were so enthusiastic about it earlier.”

 “Mean kids were mean to me.”

 “How so? What did they do?”

 “They said I was a shorty Jap and shoved me to the ground.”

 A horrific look crossed Michelle’s face. “I’m so sorry, Nerissa,” she said.

 Her parents shared concerned looks in the distance. Sooner or later, their daughter would have to learn the hard truth about who she was and about the society they lived in.

 “It’s okay,” Niffty said. “I still got to learn new things and do the entire alphabet in English!”

 “How wonderful!” Michelle smiled. Niffty was always optimistic, ever the imaginative one. Whenever things got down, Niffty would always see the silver lining in everything.  

 “What did the kids mean when they said that stuff?”

 Michelle sighed, trying to put words together. “Let’s just say that many people don’t like others who are different.”

 Before Niffty could ask further, Michelle said,” I have a surprise for you, sweetie.”

 She dug into her dress pocket and pulled out a stuffed animal. Niffty beamed and took the figure and hugged it to her chest. It was a stuffed pink poodle decorated with white polka dots.

 “Do you like it?”

 “Oh I do I do I do!” Niffty squealed. The two of them shared a warm hug.  

 After dusting a bookshelf, vacuuming the rugs and polishing several appliances, Niffty soon got ready for bed. Michelle tucked her into bed. Hiroto was passed out on the couch and Akemi was up in her room finishing up outfits to sell.

 “Can you read me a story?” Niffty asked.

 “Of course my dear,” Michelle answered. “Which one?”

 Niffty pointed to an orange picture book. “That’s one of my favorites.”

 Michelle picked it up and read the title. “Princess Hachikazuki.”

 Niffty cuddled up in her sitter’s lap as Michelle began. It was like she was transported to another world.

 In the story, Lord and Lady Sanetaka prayed to the bodhisattva of mercy to give them an heir. The beautiful princess was born. The mother became sick and before she passed away, she placed a bowl on the princess’s head. The princess threw herself in a river when people laughed at her but soon, a prince fell in love with her. Although her rival stepsisters tried to separate them, Hachikazuki’s bowl came off of her head, allowing her to win a ladies contest. The couple happily married and the princess was reunited with her father.

 “Oh I just love happy endings!” Niffty beamed as Michelle closed the book.

 A year later, Michelle told her a story that seemed to stay with her. It would be the last story the sitter ever told.

 “Read me a story, please?” Niffty asked.

 “But it’s your bed time, Nerissa,” she said. “You’re getting old for this, according to your parents.”

 “Please? Please? Please?” the little girl pleaded with shining eyes.

 Michelle gave in with a smile. She knew Niffty would always be a child at heart. “Alright, but just one.”

 She cleared her throat.

 “Once upon a time in a vast kingdom, there lived a beautiful blonde haired princess. She lived in a palace with her father and mother, the king and queen. While she was there, she was taught how to sing, play the violin, dance and how to rule with a firm hand. The king and queen loved to perform for their subjects. They would host grand balls for the nobility and invite the well-off to join the fun. There were jesters, jugglers, and an array of delicious food for them to enjoy. All in all the princess was very happy, surrounded by the music.”

 “But as she got older, she learned more about the land she was in. Her father had enforced strict rules on his subjects, and for good reason. Although the peasants, knights, shop owners and caretakers worked hard, they also fought a lot. It wasn’t uncommon for farmers to fight over crops, or fellow knights to raid churches and villages. Disease also spread rapidly.”

 “One day, the princess saw a horrific sight. Soldiers from a rival kingdom arrived and mercilessly slaughtered the citizens! The knights in armor were no match for the guns. After the damage had been done, those who remained had to dispose of the dead and start over, always in fear that they would come again.”

 “Father,” cried the princess. “How could you let this happen?!”

 “My army is no match for the soldier’s guns,” he replied. “They invade and kill my people for the sake of it. But there is nothing that can be done. Perhaps the troublesome workers deserved their fate.”

 “Mother!” the princess cried. “Can’t you do something as well? Those poor people suffer every day out there!”

 But the queen was busy deciding which dress to wear for the next performance.

The princess tried to talk to the people around her, offering to help in any way she could. Many of them laughed and mocked her.

 “A secluded princess trying to help us out?” they asked. “Who does she think she is? She doesn’t know anything at all.”

 Fortunately, the princess befriended a woman warrior to help her out. The woman could live off the land and use any kind of weapon, but she had a bad temper at times. The princess had an idea.

 “What if I run a refuge place to help travelers and my people get along? If not that, then at least, the poor would have a place to stay.” Her warrior friend agreed to help, provided she not get too optimistic about the iffy plan. The king and queen used some of their money to build the building by the trading route, just so they could focus on their own hobbies. They, too, didn’t agree with her ideas. The princess was saddened by her ignorant parents.

 One traveler soon arrived, a man who smoked, drank and often ran around nude. He slept with women and men alike. He was a reckless fighter as well, and had almost died fighting off rival knights on the battlefield. The princess happily welcomed him in, but the warrior wasn’t as pleased. It was slow going, but it was a start.

 Now, the king had many lords and men in his inner circle. One of them was a man who lived in the woods and hunted deer. He often wore a dark cloak and carried a staff with a deer skull on it. But he was also a devious trickster. He was feared throughout the land because of his great skill in dark sorcery. Many people had fallen prey to his curses, poor and wealthy alike…he loved making deals.

 When the sorcerer saw that the princess was opening the place of refuge, he decided to check it out. He already had a plan to get to know the members of the royal family…having a secret grudge against them. Before he did, he gathered two people to his side. One of them was a strong muscular fighter…and the best gambler in town.

 “Your skills in gambling and fighting are second to none,” the sorcerer said, soon gathering up lies. “I could use a strong hand like you. Those horrible soldiers killed my wife and children and I’m worried that I’ll be next.”

 “I’m not helping you,” the gambler scoffed as he drank more booze and drinks. “Why didn’t you use your magic?”

 “The soldiers weren’t affected by it and now…I’m left with nothing...”

 “But if you work for me, I’ll give you more drinks and money. Plus if you’re looking for a nicer place to stay, the princess has a refuge center not too far from here.”

 Reluctantly, the gambler shook the sorcerer’s hand and followed him.

 Later, the sorcerer spotted a maid who was cleaning chimneys and caring for a bunch of children.

 “You look like you’re pretty busy,” the sorcerer said. “Cleaning the same dirty place all the time sounds boring.”

 “It is,” the maid said. “And lonely. There are no handsome men around either.”

 The sorcerer then spoke in a smooth seductive tone. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Why, if you help me out, I’ll provide you with a clean house and introduce you to the most handsome of men in the kingdom. I’ll be your first friend if you wish.”

 The maid eagerly shook his hand, and the trio went off to the hotel. Once they arrived, the princess welcomed them in with open arms.

 “I’d love to help out with your place, your majesty,” the sorcerer said with an elegant bow. “Trying to make people better…that’s near impossible, but hey, it’s worth a shot.”

 The sorcerer charmed the princess with dances and magic tricks. With a snap of his fingers, the place was repaired and clean. She soon became attracted to him. The man even made a splendid dinner for everyone to enjoy.

 “He’s untrustworthy,” the warrior woman warned the princess. “I’m your best friend but please be careful.”

 “Don’t worry,” the princess said. “I can take care of myself.” She hoped that her plan would work…and hoped she could prove herself worthy to her parents.

 Then, on the next fateful day…”

 “Nerissa!” called Akemi from down the hall. “It’s time to go to sleep!”

 “She’s right,” Michelle said as she closed the book in a heart stopping snap.

 “Awww, Michelle! Mother! You can’t stop there! We were getting to the good part!”

 “Maybe another time,” said Michelle as she tucked Niffty into bed. “Good night, dear.” Michelle’s footsteps grew fainter as she left the room.

 Nifty stared at the starry sky and the full moon though her window. “Maybe my dreams will come true someday,” she sang softly to herself with a smile and a look of longing.

 “A dream is a wish, my heart makes

When I’m fast asleep.

In dreams, I will lose my heartaches

Whatever I wish for, I keep

 “Have faith in dreams and someday

My rainbow will come smiling through

No matter how my heart is grieving

If I keep on believing

The dream that I wish will come true.”

 Niffty yawned after she finished the song and settled into sleep.

                                        Yellow Peril: Chinese workers arrive to U.S. mid 19th century, restricted to railroads and mines. Anti-Chinese groups worked to pass laws to limit Asian American equality with whites. Like Irish, Italians, Chinese and Japanese were viewed as threats to “racial purity” and a source of economic competition.

1886-1924 peak: People immigrating from Japan to find work to survive. Many arrived on Hawaiian Islands, moving to the West Coast. Immigrants selecting brides from their immigrant countries via a matchmaker who paired them only using pictures and family recommendations. Some women choose to be picture brides to escape familial duties and seek economic growth. Some came to Hawaii because it was a trend. Picture brides immigrated to the U.S. to be with husbands. Men would often pose in pictures with cars and items they did not own.

Nakodo: go between/match maker who looks at status, age, wealth of bride

 Pucture brides had to go through immigration inspections. They would meet their soon to be husbands and attend a wedding ceremony on the docks.

Reality: older grooms living in racially segregated plantations

  Plantation workers, many Japanese women. Irrigated and weeded the fields, stripped cane of dry leaves, or cut seed cane. Women were also expected to take care of the house, cooking, cleaning, sewing and raising children. Many women moved to Honolulu to start their own businesses.

 Values instilled to children included filial piety, obligation to community and authority, reciprocal obligation, importance of hard work, frugality, drive for success (seiko).

 Some married husbands were abusive or alcoholic or tried to sell women into brothels but many wives stayed for their children. Wives who eloped could be sent back to Japan.

 No passports to picture brides in 1920.

   Naturalization Act of 1870: revoking citizenship to Chinese Americans

 Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882: stopped immigration from China

 Japanese workers recruited, triggering a rapid increase in population.

 Immigration Act of 1924: banned Japanese and Chinese from entering U.S.

  Japantowns (Nihonmachi) in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle etc. community groups organized charity events and set up shops separate from whites, Japanese language schools.

  Pearl Harbor attack 1941: led the United States into World War 2. Americans, French, England, unified to fight against Germany, Japan and Italy.

Kamikaze suicide bombings, Pearl Harbor, Baatan Death March, American POWs killed by Imperial Japanese forces

 “Jap hunting licenses” Japanese forced to move away and close their businesses.

 Stereotype of Japanese and schools as loyal to the emperor of Japan, promoting racial superiority and violent fighting skills.

 1942: Japanese incarcerated in camps “War Relocation Camps” western U.S, 1942-1946 “one blood drop rule”

    Jan 1942: immigrants required to have certificates and IDs on them

 Unfavorable reports of Japanese action noticed by the U.S. government, (Pearl Harbor, Invasion of China 1931).

 Thin barracks with little room for privacy, barbed wire fences and guards.

(shikata ga nai) “It cannot be helped.” School lessons only taught in Englsih. Dust storms, cramped living conditions. There was baseball, bands and recreation.

Internment ends 1945/1946

Japanese businesses, homes and places of worship were destroyed with vandalism, gunshots and explosives. Some people were shot in the camps while others died from lack of medical care.

 Niffty lives her life as a Japanese American woman and teenager in the 1950s. She is little, with short black hair and pale skin. She is born in the 1920s…on March 22 (VA birthdate), 1929 (Year of the Snake)! Being the same age as Vaggie when she died at age 22, Niffty died in 1951. She is a human named Nerissa Nifuti (after the maid. Her last name is Niffty in Japanese).

 March 22 1929: Niffty’s birth in Los Angeles, California, as Nerissa Nifuti. (Capital city based on New Orleans, New York and Las Vegas populous cities of the former homelands of the other characters)

1930: age 1

 1931: age 2

 1932: age 3

 1933: age 4

 1934: age 5

 1935: age 6

 Niffty briefly lives with her parents in a rural area. Picture bride mother who arrived from Japan and to Hawaii and worked on a plantation, older alcoholic father who lived in Hawaii.

 1930s: Niffty learns to walk and talk and speak Japanese and English. She always removes her shoes whenever she enters her home and other buildings. She is fast in almost everything, crawling early, babbling early, very talkative and quick on her feet. Niffty is a fast learner as well, often ahead of her class. Niffty learns best by working with her hands. Niffty develops her love of reading and writing.

 At some point, Niffty’s father becomes abusive to both of them but Niffty’s mother has to stay to uphold her family honor.

 1936: age 7 Niffty starts school. Niffty is often chided for talking so fast and not being passive

  Niffty is bullied in Weill school for her heritage and short height. Niffty excels at literature, running, music, singing, arts and crafts, reading and writing, but not at math, sports, science or history.

  1937: age 8 With being a good housewife instilled in her at an early age, Niffty begins to clean and cook and sew early on, while also looking for the perfect husband in the future.

 1938: age 9

 1939: age 10 World War 2 begins

 Niffty reads mangas and starts writing her own stories while maintaining a clean house for her family. They also have a black poodle named Michelle.

 1940: age 11

 1941: age 12

 1942: age 13

 1942: Year of Death. Niffty and her parents are sent to an internment camp. Manzanar Relocation Center. Niffty’s father is shot for trying to escape and her mother dies of an illness at an infirmary. The walls are thin and barracks are overcrowded.

  1943: age 14

 1944: age 15 Niffty is often surrounded by the stench of death. She eats like an animal and longs to be free.

 1945: age 16

Niffty’s father is shot for trying to escape and her mother falls ill and dies in a makeshift infirmary. Niffty remains in the camp until 1945, finishing schooling and joining the band. Niffty has to live with several other families and children in cramped spaces. The lessons were only taught in English. Niffty falls in love with several boys. Niffty meets one nice one but he eventually leaves with his family, leaving Niffty behind.

 Niffty returns to her home town with nothing to return to. She finds Japanese businesses, homes and places of worship destroyed with vandalism, gunshots and explosives.

 By sheer luck, she is able to live and work for an upper class white family as a maid, cook and a person who sews their clothes. The mother is racist toward her but not the father nor the older sister, who tolerate her.

 1946: age 17 Niffty is visited by Alastor through a radio. He offers her mangas, appreciation for her work and a new “perfect” boyfriend/husband, plus a radio. She agrees to help him out later on, but she gets more than what she bargained for.

 1947: age 18 Niffty gets married to her boyfriend but still works for the family.

 1948: age 19 Niffty’s husband starts hitting on Niffty’s white adoptive sister. Niffty’s adoptive parents make her do even more work since she is so good at it. Niffty’s fanfictions are read by others and starts attracting horny older men.

 1949: age 20

 1950: age 21 Niffty’s husband beats and violates her, though Niffty still remains in love with him. She lets him violate her, feeling more and more broken and helpless. One part lasted three hours, leaving her feeling sticky and disgusting.

 Niffty asks the radio for advice and it influences her to do evil things. Jealous of her adoptive sister’s beauty and attention to her husband, Niffty kills her and cleans up the mess, serving her flesh in meat pies to neighbors.

 During one evening on the streets, a horrified Niffty glances at a man violating a corpse of a woman and stabs him to death. She darts away before she can be caught.  

 1951: age 22 The trauma Niffty faces catches up and she snaps. Niffty kills her husband as he tried to rape and stab her and sets his house on fire. At the same time, she cries over the loss of him. She writes about it in a journal, which is discovered by the mother. This draws attention to the police, the father had called them earlier.

 Niffty gets cornered by police inside her home. One of them is a relative of her husband. Niffty tries to run but gets shot three times in the thigh. Before anyone could do anything, the officer picks her up and tosses her into a burning fireplace, where she dies.

   1951: Niffty arrives in Hell, lost and overwhelmed. One demon, a black spider named Rhapso hires her to work at a clothing Emporium. Niffty is beaten and chided for every little mistake she makes, every loose thread, driving her toward perfection like in life. Niffty also has to clean her boss’s room and cook meals. Out of sheer spite, Niffty steals and wears an elegant dress made of black swan feathers, sizing it down to fit her small body. Her boss threatens to roast her in the furnace but as she is immune to fire says “Let’s say you’re in deep hot water, brat.”

 Niffty is thrown into the burning lake as punishment. Niffty plunges to the bottom of the lake, unable to breach the surface as sinners sink to the bottom instead of floating like in regular water. Though Niffty can survive in hot places, the heat and pressure becomes uncomfortable. There are also fiery underwater monsters to avoid. Niffty often has nightmares of her boyfriend sending her into an icy lake to drown, or watching her parents suffer at the internment camp. There is no way for her to interact with the world, make friends and no one to fall in love with. She dreaded having to be forcefully pulled from the surface by her boss and be forced to work more long shifts.

 Until one demon is alerted by her presence…

 After having signed the contract on Earth, Niffty’s presence is sensed by Alastor’s shadow. The shadow reaches in and picks up Niffty, the little demon gasping for breath. Then, she meets Alastor. Alastor reminds Niffty of the deal she had made in the living world and invites her to shake his hand to seal it. Niffty is eager to do so, already enamored by the Radio Demon’s charm.

 Niffty’s boss comes back and demands Niffty go back to work, but Alastor says he would take Niffty instead. Niffty sets her boss and store on fire for revenge, entertaining Alastor. Niffty calls herself Niffty.

 Niffty soon works for Alastor, making his meals, cleaning his cabin-like lair underground (Deer’s Den) (plus his above ground smaller radio studio cabin), sewing voodoo dolls and tailoring his suits. She also is handy in fighting as she is immune to fire, speedy, skillful with her hands and can fit into small places. In exchange, Alastor gives her a place to stay, money, some journals and clothing for her hobbies, plus voodoo creatures for her to eat and play with.

 Niffty is soon summoned from the fireplace and gets to work cleaning the hotel rooms and helping make meals for the hotel residents. Niffty writes erotic fanfiction and sews in her spare time. Along with Husk, Niffty protects Alastor and helps kill his enemies.

 Niffty starts an Instagram account under the name babyfeatherduster. She is seen posing at Alastor’s feet, hanging out with Husk and trying to take Alastor’s picture. People mistake her for a child, even though she is in her 20s.

 Niffty’s true intentions would eventually be revealed. Niffty seeks to be doted on by lots of men, and she lives in a fantasy world of her own. And she’ll use any means necessary to make the world of Hell her own. (she might manipulate men into sleeping with her). Niffty shares traits with Charlie from Always Sunny. Niffty loves erotic stuff and that includes fanfictions, pictures and maybe spying on nude men. She has pica, eating stuff like spiders and fabric. Although Niffty likes to get lost in fantasy and romance, she may be the most socially aware member of the group. She can also manipulate people and knows about Hell’s racist/class driven system. Her delusions of authority and emotions hide a sense of insecurity. Like Charlie from Always Sunny, Niffty is good at sewing, cooking, singing and music.

[hollygoeslightly]

Sanditon: The Sense & Sensibility Connection

@fortunatelylori​ and I first started talking way back during the incredibly long wait for the final season of Game of Thrones, when we were still sweet summer children and far less bitter than we are today. After GOT broke our hearts clean in two, we decided we needed to find a new shared obsession. We made our way through a few shows – some of them great (Narcos) and some of them just okay (The Discovery of Witches) – until one day a very attractive, very wet and very naked Theo James appeared on my dash. I sent @fortunatelylori​ the GIF set with the question, “so when did Theo James get this hot?” and she made the very smart decision that Sanditon would be our next watch.

Expecting a fun, easy, paint-by-numbers Jane Austen adaption, we were both incredibly surprised to find that not only is Sanditon grittier than other period dramas, but it also has fascinating and complex characters, interesting writing choices and is overall, a show that we both genuinely really love. It also happens to be a show that we both have a lot to say about.

If you’ve read @fortunatelylori​‘s metas before, then you know you’re in for a treat. If you haven’t, prepare yourself for just how disgustingly good she is at analysing and understanding TV – she’s our fandom’s Meta Queen after all. We’ve been wanting to do a meta collab for quite a while now and it turns out a naked Theo James ended up providing the perfect opportunity. Who knew?

So, with that in mind, here is our first attempt at a meta collab. Which is really just a condensed version of our conversations – minus the swearing, animal pics and Theo James’ bare arse.

* * *

It’s no surprise to anyone, at this point, that Andrew Davies wears his Austen influences on his sleeve in Sanditon. You can find easter eggs for most of Austen’s work, from the famous Pride and Prejudice to the obscure Lady Susan.

However, Sense and Sensibility seems to be one work that hasn’t insipired much comparison from the fandom. And it’s perhaps for that reason that Sandion’s last two episodes were so hard to digest and why so many question marks were raised in regards to Charlotte’s characterization.

In this project we aim to dispel some of that confusion and attempt to put into prespective the character arcs of both Sidney and Charlotte in:

Sidlotte: A parallel journey between Sense and Sensibility by @fortunatelylori​

As well as delve deeper into Charlotte’s POV through out the season finale in:

Charlotte Heywood: From Sensibility to Sense by @and-holly-goes-lightly​

Charlotte Heywood: From Sensibility to Sense

It is easy to dismiss Charlotte Heywood as simply another stereotypical plucky period drama heroine. At first glance, Charlotte appears to be cut from the same cloth as other Austen protagonists Elizabeth Bennett and Emma Woodhouse – strong willed, outspoken, inquisitive and incredibly charming. While Charlotte certainly does exhibit a number of personality traits borrowed from other Austen protagonists – this is Andrew Davies love letter to Austen after all – it would be a mistake to think that Charlotte isn’t a complex and interesting character all of her own. Charlotte’s character development may be far more understated than Sidney’s and not as all-encompassing as Esther’s, but her coming-of-age story is vital in driving the narrative and laying the ground work for S2 (if and when that happens).

I have spoken previously about the beginning of Charlotte’s character development here, as 1x07 presented a noticeable change in Charlotte’s behaviour. Charlotte began the series as a true romantic who wore her heart on her sleeve and had total confidence in her judgement and beliefs – overall, she tended to err more on the side of sensibility than sense. However, by the beginning of 1x07, Charlotte is noticeably reticent and emotionally guarded, struck by the knowledge that she is both in love with Sidney and that her once unguarded heart is now very much at risk. Despite Sidney’s declaration of love at the end of the episode (“I believe I am my best self, my truest self, when I’m with you”), 1x08 opens with an introspective Charlotte. When discussing Sidney with Georgiana, Charlotte appears blissfully in love, but noticeably anxious about what Sidney’s declaration means.

Charlotte - “We spoke after the regatta and he said he felt his truest self when he was with me.”

Georgiana - “Why would he say that?”

Charlotte - “I’ve been asking myself the same question. I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking on it.”

By the time the credits roll on the season finale, Charlotte’s character development is very much underway, with 1x08 setting the framework for exploring a Charlotte no longer ruled by sensibility, but by sense (Davies, there better be a S2 or so help me God *shakes fist at sky*).

However, before I discuss just how Charlotte’s character development plays out in 1x08, let’s go back to the beginning of the series and Charlotte’s arrival in Sanditon. I’ve talked quite a bit about Sidney’s instant attraction to Charlotte and how his feelings for her influence their interactions (for better or worse), but I’ve yet to explore the beginnings of Charlotte’s feelings for Sidney and how those feelings tie into Charlotte’s character growth. While Sidney and Charlotte’s first meeting in 1x01 is defined by just how badly it went (“new maid?”), this isn’t Charlotte’s first introduction to Sidney. Charlotte is first introduced to Sidney – well, a poor artistic rendering of him at least – upon her arrival at Trafalgar House. Taking in Tom’s truly ostentatious design choices, Charlotte stops in front of a large portrait of Sidney, which takes pride of place in the Parker’s entryway. It is apparent that Charlotte’s curiosity is immediately piqued by the rather imposing work, curiosity that is further increased by Tom’s unhelpful description of his enigmatic younger brother.

“He’s a man of affairs, a man of business – importing, exporting – he’s here, there and everywhere.”

Charlotte is as instantly attracted to Sidney as Sidney is to her upon their first meeting on the clifftops. However, while Sidney’s attraction to Charlotte is driven by her honesty, implicit kindness and strength of character, Charlotte’s initial curiosity and attraction to Sidney lays with his status an outlier and her inability to understand his intentions (as well as the fact that he is, without question, a total babe). As @fortunatelylori points out, Charlotte thrives on honesty (and sometimes just the appearance of honesty), and is immediately cautious of those who, like Sidney, keep their cards close to their chest. Despite catching glimpses of Sidney at his best and truest self, in attempting to understand his motivations, Charlotte often misconstrues his emotional disconnect as dishonesty. She cannot reconcile the loyal, kind and charming man she is attracted to with the prejudiced, withholding and taciturn man she assumes his behaviour indicates. When Charlotte’s father warned her that people in Sanditon may not be as they appear, Charlotte was on the lookout for a wolf in sheep’s clothing (notice her changing opinion on Edward and Clara, for example). She had not accounted for the opposite – that Sidney’s brusqueness was well crafted armour developed as a result of trauma.

Following Georgiana’s kidnap and eventual rescue in London, Charlotte wrestles with the knowledge that her tendency towards sensibility and her belief that emotional vulnerability equals honesty, has blinded her to Otis’ true nature and has caused her to make inaccurate assumptions about Sidney’s motivations.  

“I hardly know what to think anymore… about anything. I’ve always felt so certain of my judgement and now I see I’ve been blinded by sentiment and naivety. I’ve got it all so wrong. No wonder your brother has such a poor opinion of me.”

By the time Sidney asks her to dance at the masquerade ball in London at the end of 1x06, Charlotte’s whole world has undergone a seismic shift. Her experience with Sidney and Otis has shown that she must recalibrate her world view. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it is an overwhelming undertaking. Charlotte’s past confidence in her judgement stems from her usually good ability to read people – her biggest mistake was not misunderstanding Sidney and Otis’ motivations, but not accounting for how trauma can shape someone’s world view (in fairness, this is not something Charlotte could understand until she experienced it herself) and assuming everyone, like her, comes from a place of good intentions. These are valuable, but hard lessons to learn and unfortunately for Charlotte, these lessons are quickly followed by the realisation that she is in love with Sidney, as well as Eliza’s sudden reappearance. Taking all this into account, it’s easy to see why Charlotte spends 1x07 introspective and emotionally guarded.

Therefore, it comes as no surprise that Davies’ chooses to open 1x08 with multiple shots of Charlotte walking alone along the beach deep in thought. Not only has Charlotte wrestled with her feelings for Sidney, but she spent the previous day (1x07) convinced that Sidney did not return her feelings due to the apparent reestablishment of his relationship with Eliza, as well as feeling as though she has been found lacking in comparison to the elegant, cultured and incredibly wealthy other woman. I know many people have attributed Charlotte’s noticeable reservation in 1x08 as passivity in the face of her developing relationship with Sidney. However, I don’t believe that is the case, merely that at this point in Charlotte’s character development she has made the terrifying realisation that giving power over your heart to someone you love leaves you incredibly vulnerable to heartache. After all, Sidney’s abandonment of Charlotte for Eliza at the masquerade ball at the end of 1x06, gave her a small lesson in just how painful love can be. As a result, the Charlotte that meets Sidney’s eyes across Sanditon’s completed streets at the beginning of 1x08, is one of sense over sensibility – hopeful in her love for Sidney and anxiously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

This is reinforced by her scene with Georgiana prior to the midsummer ball. Strip away the regency set design and costuming, and this scene could be easily transplanted to any modern romantic comedy – our young heroine confiding in her friend about her developing love for the male hero. Sounds familiar, right?

“You judge Sidney too harshly. Consider the kindness he has shown Otis. I believe he has a tenderness that few people get to see.”

Unfortunately for Charlotte, her friend is too distracted by her own romantic woes to understand just how important it is that she be a good friend to Charlotte in this moment. Charlotte is seeking two things from Georgiana during their discussion. Firstly, she desperately wants to share the joy of falling in love for the first time with her friend. Secondly, when Charlotte reveals that Sidney confessed he was his best and truest self with her, she is hoping for validation. Because of course Sidney would feel his best and truest self with Charlotte, right? She may be a farmer’s daughter, but she is also intelligent, outspoken, determined and unfailingly kind, so how could he not? Instead, Georgiana responds with, “why would he say that?”. Rose Williams does such a beautiful job here, because Charlotte’s hurt and disappointment is so clearly etched across her face. What Charlotte desperately needed in that moment was a friend to ease her doubts, and unfortunately Georgiana is too wrapped up in her own heartache and anger to be that for her.

Charlotte ends her discussion with Georgiana with as little reassurance and clarity as she began it. She is desperate to believe that Sidney returns her feelings, but her whole world view has just been called into question and on top of that, she spent the day before on the receiving end of Sidney’s mixed messages and Eliza’s pointed remarks. And here is where I think the argument for Charlotte’s passivity falls apart, and should be instead seen as a (eventually thwarted) step in Charlotte’s character development towards a balance between sense and sensibility. Passiveness suggests inaction, and Charlotte chooses to act – she asks Sidney whether she can join him on his walk into town. This may seem inconsequential, but it is anything but. Because Charlotte is not only choosing to trust in her feelings for Sidney and in his feelings for her, but she is telling Sidney his feelings are reciprocated and those feelings are strong enough that they need time alone to discuss their possible future together.

Now, I don’t have to tell you the scene of Sidney and Charlotte walking across the clifftops left me in a swooning heap like every silent film actress worth their salt. I think that was the collective fandom response. However, I do want to discuss the intricacies at play in Sidney and Charlotte’s interaction, because I have seen it misconstrued as passiveness, when really the agency lies with Charlotte the whole time. We began with the scene with a rather inane discussion about the weather and Charlotte’s family (Sidney’s eye roll of self-disgust at his poor conversational skills is everything) – Sidney is both desperate to discuss their conversation from the previous night, but patiently waiting for Charlotte to indicate that this is something she wishes to do. She does, telling him she would rather continue their walk together than return to town for her dress fitting.

Charlotte – “We seem not to be walking into town?”

Sidney – “Ah, yes, your dress fitting. Forgive me, what a fool I am. Should we head back, perhaps?”

Charlotte – “No, there is absolutely no urgency about my dress fitting. A walk along the clifftops is much more to my taste.”

Sidney – “Good. My thoughts exactly.”

Sidney is willing to end their walk and the possibility of discussing their feelings at the slightest hint that this may not be something Charlotte desires. However, following Charlotte’s lead, Sidney admits that he wished to find time alone with her to discuss their conversation while glancing at her mouth every five seconds, and of course (because really, who could say no to Theo James?) they kiss. What is important to note is that Sidney continues to check in with Charlotte at every point in the lead up to that moment. Charlotte only had to say no or ask to return to town for Sidney not to proceed, something she is well aware of and actively chooses not to do. Responding positively to Sidney’s actions is not the same as passiveness. You only have to watch as Charlotte stares longing at Sidney to know that she desired the kiss just as much as he did.

Which leads us to Sidney’s almost marriage proposal at the midsummer ball and the closest Charlotte and Sidney come to meeting in the middle of their respective character arcs, between sense and sensibility. While Charlotte is still prone to introspection, asking Mary how she knew that Tom was right man for her (hey Mary, I think we’d all like to know the answer to that one), she has regained some of her confidence back, no doubt buoyed by the confirmation that Sidney returns her feelings and wishes to create a life with her. Charlotte’s agency in pursuing a romantic relationship with Sidney is once again highlighted during her conversation with Young Stringer.

Young Stringer – “So, you have found a reason to stay?”

Charlotte – “Yes, I believe I have.”

When Charlotte chooses to seek Sidney out, she is actively choosing to place faith in her judgement and in Sidney. Both Charlotte and Sidney are hesitant, terrified of being hurt for very different reasons, yet they are willing to risk their hearts for a chance at a life together. Which is why Edward’s interruption and the fallout from the fire is so heartbreaking, because not only do we see a return of Charlotte’s doubts, but Sidney and Charlotte are never again as close to coming together as they were in that moment.

There is no doubt that Charlotte’s misgivings about Sidney’s love for her are somewhat well founded. Rooted in the uncertainty of the failed proposal and her insecurity regarding Eliza, Charlotte’s doubts are mostly due to her belief that the other shoe is sure to drop, because why would Sidney Parker ever wish to marry her, a farmer’s daughter? The reason Charlotte is so hurt by Eliza’s snide comment about her marriage prospects in 1x07 isn’t because she cares what Eliza thinks of her, but because she’s terrified Sidney, the person whose good opinion she values the most, may think her unsuitable. Her letter to her sister written while Sidney is returning from London is evidence of this insecurity – insecurity that is unintentionally stoked by Sidney’s mixed messages and Eliza’s sharp tongue in 1x07.

“Oh Alison, it’s possible that my future too could depend on Sidney’s swift return. I wish I could tell you more, but it may be very soon that I have exciting news to share.”

Even knowing that Sidney was interrupted during his proposal of marriage, despite his assurances that he will once again make an offer when he returns from London, Charlotte can still not allow herself to completely believe that Sidney wishes to marry her. When Sidney tells her he can no longer make her an offer of marriage, because he has engaged himself to Eliza in exchange for her funding Sanditon’s rebuild, Charlotte’s worst fears come true. Charlotte has been found wanting and her dream of marrying Sidney was only ever that, a dream.

When Charlotte and Sidney meet again at Lord Babington and Esther’s wedding, Charlotte has transformed from sensibility to sense and fully assumed her role as Sanditon’s Elinor Dashwood – emotionally guarded and reserved in the face of heartbreak and disappointed hopes. Their conversation is painful to watch – Sidney holding himself back from enquiring how Charlotte truly is and Charlotte assuming the picture of detached politeness.

Sidney – “How do you do Miss Heywood?”

Charlotte – “Very well, thank you.”

Sidney – “And your family, are they well?”

Charlotte – “Very well.”

Sidney – “Ah.”

Charlotte – “How are your own wedding preparations?”

Sidney – “Elaborate.”

In the face of Sidney’s clear regret and Eliza’s pointed comment about, “simple country weddings” (another dig at Charlotte’s marriageability), Charlotte remains guarded, her mask firmly in place. Even when Young Stringer questions her about Sidney’s engagement to Eliza, Charlotte’s armour of good manners does not break.

Young Stringer – “I gather Mr Sidney Parker is engaged?”

Charlotte – “Yes. I wish them both every happiness.”

Sidney – “She’s not half the woman you are Charlotte. If he can’t see that he doesn’t deserve you.”

Charlotte – “Thank you Mr Stringer.”        

By the time that Sidney stops Charlotte’s carriage on the clifftops as she leaves Sanditon, Charlotte’s character development has reached its ultimate end for the season. Transformed from an outspoken, determined young woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and believed marriage without love was, “a form of slavery”, Charlotte has now traded places with Sidney, carefully guarding her bruised and battered heart and becoming emotionally withdrawn from those around her. When Sidney approaches the carriage to speak to Charlotte, you can see the hope bloom across her face. For the briefest of moments, Charlotte allows herself to believe that Sidney has come to declare his love and prevent her from leaving Sanditon. Therefore it is incredibly heartbreaking to watch as Charlotte realises this isn’t the case and she schools her face one again into a mask of controlled politeness. In truth, Charlotte is barely keeping herself together – like Elinor she is a moment away from breaking apart. Because despite her heartache, Charlotte is still desperately in love with the man who caused it. What’s more, she understands why Sidney made the decision he did – an impossible decision in impossible circumstances. It would almost be easier for Charlotte to hate him. Even now as he seeks absolution while planning to marry another woman, she can’t help but want him to be happy.

Sidney – “Tell me you don’t think too badly of me.”

Charlotte – “I don’t think badly of you.”

Sidney – “I don’t love her, you know.”

Charlotte – “You must not speak like that. She loves you and you have agreed to marry her. You must try and make her happy.”

When Sidney tells Charlotte that he is not in love with Eliza, what he is really saying is that he is in love with her. But for this new Charlotte, it is all too painful to hear and she stops him before he declares his love. As Elinor so neatly declared in Sense and Sensibility, “to wish is to hope, and to hope is to expect,” and Charlotte cannot afford to wish that Sidney was still hers. It’s fitting then, that when Charlotte once again begins her journey home to Willingden she does not look back. A woman of sense has no place for such sensibility after all.

[thesoftdumbass]

sweet as can be

detective Bucky Barnes x baker Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: None? I don’t even think there’s language, you can correct me if I’m wrong

Summary: Bucky Barnes has no idea what to do for his daughter’s 12th birthday party. That is, until he meets you. 

Inspired by this ask that I sent to @bucky-plums-barnes for Daddy Wednesday!

masterlist 

Bucky Barnes looks once more to the computer sitting in front of him before groaning and dropping his forehead onto the desk in agitation. His daughter’s birthday is in five days and he had put off planning for too long because of work. Closing the case involving a string of high-end robberies had been put on priority and Bucky was too preoccupied to focus on putting together an awesome party for his little girl.

Last year his ex hosted Becca’s birthday party, so this year was his turn, and Jude and Wesley’s joint party would be planned by Dot. Bucky knew he had to do great for this party, not only because his daughter wanted to impress her friends as all twelve-year-olds do, but also because he wanted to one-up his ex-wife. It’s not like Bucky and Dot had a competitive relationship, but sometimes it’s nice to feel good about his parenting skills.

Dot and Bucky started dating in high school, both taking an interest in the other automatically when they met through the astronomy club. After they graduated and went on to college, they found themselves suddenly with a baby on the way. They were in love, so marriage seemed like the best option. A baby girl, a wedding, and a twin boy and girl later, and Bucky and Dot realized that they were just going through the motions. Knowing that they had fallen out of love, their relationship ended with an amicable divorce, shared custody of their children the only thing connecting them now.

Bucky shakes himself out of thoughts of his past with Dot, turning his attention back to Google. Having waited so long to even browse for decorations, he hadn’t had the thought of ordering a cake before now. Presently, looking through different websites and making calls to various bakeries, Bucky is thinking he may have to figure something else out for last minute. Maybe Bec would like a pizza cake?

Bucky’s brooding is interrupted when his partner at the precinct comes over and knocks on his desk to get his attention, sitting down on the tabletop when he looks up.

“Hey Barnes, what’s with the pity party,” Natasha asks with a smirk painted on her red lips.

James lifts his eyes to Nat, a dreadful look crossing his face. “I’m the worst father in the world,” he mutters after a moment. When his friend laughs he points a glare in her direction that has startled many perps into talking, though Natasha is completely unaffected by it. “I’m sorry, is my misery amusing to you?”

“And you call Rogers dramatic.” She says and rolls her eyes fondly, her laughter dying down after a minute. Her face going back to passive, Nat sends a look his way. “James, you’re not the world’s worst father and we both know it. I mean, you never met my parents.” With a shrug, Nat stands up and walks around the desk, sitting down in her own chair on the other side.

Bucky sighs and drops his head, knowing that what she said about him is true. “It’s just that Becca’s birthday is so soon. She’s turning twelve and I know that’s a hard age. I wanna make it special for her, but I waited too long to start planning.”

Bucky hears Nat mumble something about men and procrastinating, which he opts to ignore. Instead, he looks down at the list of tasks that he scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing strands out of his eyes.

“I need to figure out what the theme should be, but the cake is what I’m worried about most. Every bakery I’ve called or looked up needs at least three weeks in advance for specialty cakes.”

Natasha nods her head, thinking for just a moment before her eyes brighten with an idea. “Give me a minute, I know a guy.”

Bucky knew better than to ask. Nat would give him the information when she wanted and not a minute sooner, so he went back to his computer, switching tabs to a website devoted to party planning to look for decoration ideas.

A few minutes later a notebook is tossed down in front of the detective, startling him out of his trance. He glances down at the scribbled address and name, then up to his partner standing with a hand on her hip. When he raised an eyebrow in question, Nat nods her chin at the paper. “That’s the bakery that will make Becca’s cake. They’re not very busy right now, so you should be able to order a cake and it will be ready by the party.”

Looking back down, James runs his fingers over the corner of the paper, thinking. “Brooklyn Bake Shop, isn’t that where Sam works?” When he receives a nod in return, Bucky’s face lights up in a smile. “Oh, that’s where you got those awesome cupcakes that you brought in for New Year’s! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I believe it,” Natasha mutters, but Bucky sees a mix between a smile and a smirk on her face when he looks up wearing a faux offended expression. She rolls her eyes at their typical teasing banter, flicking Bucky on the forehead. “Get over to the bakery, Barnes.”

“Right! I’m on it,” Bucky says, tearing the paper from the notebook and folding it up in his pocket before grabbing his jacket and taking off.

Pulling round pans of cake out of the oven, you transfer them to a rack so they’ll cool before you can ice and decorate them. Taking a second to breathe, you lean against one of the counters and pull your phone out of your apron. You see a text from Natasha, a close friend who is also dating the co-owner of your bakery, Sam.

Nat: Hey is it alright if I send a customer your way? They need a cake by Saturday.

You smile down at your phone, appreciating that Natasha is always thinking of you, sending business your way.

You: No problem. I’m not too busy with orders right now, and I have some free time this afternoon if they need a consultation. Send them by!

You receive a confirmation text from Nat and pocket your phone and clean up the kitchen, then grab your cake sketchbook. You take it with you to the front of the store, deciding to help out at the display case while you wait for your new customer. You finish helping one of your regulars with picking out an assortment of cookies and send her to the cash register to check out, turning to the next person in line.

You take in the man standing in front of you, chin-length chestnut brown hair pushed behind his ears and scruff over the lower half of his face making his light blue eyes pop. Your eyes move lower and you can’t help but notice how fit he seems, the muscles in his chest and arms demanding attention from beneath the dark blue button-up shirt that seems just a tad tight. You shake yourself out of it after a moment, clearing your throat and hoping the man didn’t notice you practically ogling him, though the hint of a smirk on his face tells you otherwise.

“Hi and welcome to Brooklyn Bake Shop, what can I help you with today?”

“My friend recommended your bakery,” he says casually. A sample cake in the display case catches his attention and as he leans over to take a closer look at it your eyes are drawn to the badge hanging from a chain around his neck, making a light bulb go off in your head.

“You must be Natasha’s friend,” you point out and he straightens up, looking over at you with narrowed eyes. You gesture to the badge that is still visible sitting atop his broad chest and his face relaxes with understanding.

“Yeah, Nat told me that I can order a cake. I couldn’t find anybody else that can get it done by Saturday, so she really saved my life by giving me your information.” You nod your head and hum but when you don’t say anything else the man gets a brief panicked look on his face. “You can make one by Saturday, can’t you?”

You’re unable to stifle the small giggle that rises within you at his show of distress. “Of course I can get a cake done by then. My name is Y/N, I’m part-owner of the bakery.”

Relief shows itself all over the man at your words, and a genuine smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “I’m Bucky.”

“Well, why don’t you sit with me and we’ll talk about your cake, shall we?” Bucky nods and you walk around the counter, leading him to the small sitting area in the corner of your shop. Two comfortable chairs sit together with a side table nestled between them as a place to go over cake designs with clients and you sit in the chair on the right, nodding for him to sit in the other seat when he hesitates briefly. As Bucky takes a moment to get comfortable you grab a pencil, opening your sketchbook to a new page.

“Let’s start with the basics, what type of event are you ordering the cake for?”

“My daughter’s birthday party.”

You nod, writing that down. “What can you tell me about your daughter,” you ask brightly. You watch as Bucky’s face lights up before he is giving you a characterization of his daughter.

“Rebecca is my oldest girl, and I’ve also got twin 9-year-olds, Jude and Wesley. Becca turns 12 on Saturday and I’m hosting her party, I just got really busy with work and didn’t start planning until, well, today.” Bucky looks down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks and you smirk softly. “Becca likes taking photos, she carries one of my old cameras around with her everywhere. She’s great in school, especially history and science. Becca’s favorite thing is space, she loves when I take a drive out of the city so we can watch the stars, and she says she’d like to be an astronomer one day.” An adoring smile lifts Bucky’s lips at the thoughts he is sharing and you have to contain the ‘awww’ welling up in you.

Watching Bucky as he talks lovingly about his daughter, you try to keep your mind on the business at hand and not on this sweet and caring man that you’ve just met. It doesn’t hurt that he may be the most attractive person you’ve ever seen.

No, you mentally shake yourself out of it, he’s a customer. Just go back to discussing the cake.

“So what kind of theme should we fit the cake to, does your daughter have a preference?”

Bucky brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, embarrassment taking over his face. “I haven’t picked out any decorations yet, and Becca said she wanted it to be a surprise,” he says and you try not to let yourself focus on the way he bites his lip shyly.

You nod, thinking to yourself for a minute. “You said she loves space, how about an astronomy-themed cake? I have a few ideas…”

The rest of your afternoon is spent with Bucky, designing the cake, choosing flavors and fillings, and you even brought your laptop out of your office to look up decorations to fit the party theme that he had agreed with, sharing the links with him. After closing your computer and sketchbook, you stand from your seats and you stretch your arms up, having been sitting for too long. Bucky chuckles and follows your lead, his back cracking noticeably, making you giggle along quietly.

“Thank you for seeing me, I was starting to panic about disappointing my little girl,” he says to you after a moment.

“I doubt you could do that, Bucky. And it’s my pleasure.” The smile on his face reflects your own and you duck your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, your new customer speaks up again. “Do you mind if I stop back by the counter and pick up a few treats to go?”

“Of course not,” you say, but the time on your watch grabs your attention as you walk toward the counter. “Shoot, I have a rack of cakes to ice, and then I should get started on bakes for the morning. Sam can help you if that’s okay.”

You grab the attention of your business partner with a wave and he walks over as Bucky nods. “That’s fine, Y/N, thanks again for helping me. I’ll see you on Saturday?”

Your heart thumps at the thought, but you only nod and hum in affirmation before disappearing into the kitchen to pick back up on your tasks.

Sam looks on in amusement as his friend watches you walk away, a near-dopey smile on the detective’s face. Bucky hears a throat clear and immediately looks to Sam in irritation, only to see the baker shaking his head in faux disappointment with a smirk on his face.

“What, Wilson?”

Sam chuckles at the scowl Bucky now wears, a gap-tooth smile lighting up his face. “Nothing, Barnes.”

Bucky mumbles a disbelieving “sure” under his breath before leaning back down to check out the offerings set in the display case. “Can I get an assortment of 6 cupcakes and a dozen chocolate chip cookies?”

Eyebrows raise amusedly. “Feeling a little peckish, there, Buck?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m taking these back to the station for everybody. Make sure to put some of those French toast cupcakes in there for Natasha, I don’t want her to kill me,” Bucky says, his tone suggesting that he’s kidding...kind of.

Sam chuckles and gathers the requested items, packaging and ringing up the purchase. Bucky leaves the shop with armsful of snacks, and hope that he may not have failed his little girl after all. Now it’s just up to him to assemble the rest of the party.

part two 

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one for a while! I don’t know yet if this is going to be a series, but I definitely have at least a second part in the works, who knows when I’ll finish and post it haha. I hope you enjoyed reading, please leave feedback if you’d like to see more from me! Love y’all 💜

If you’d like to be notified when I post something new, message me or send an ask and I’ll add you to my tag list!

permanent tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718 @feelmyroarrrr @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @vulcanaeris @killerbumblebee @kjs-s @starshiphufflebadger @goingknowherewastaken 

marvel tags: @izzy10718 @shortbty14 

[ladyalice101]

@abi117 shared this article with me the other day, and I immediately thought of the leaked set photos where jon knelt to Cersei .. and then I thought of the kidnap plot .. and then .... my fingers slipped. 

read on ao3. 

don’t blame me, love made me crazy

Jon is very sure that, if she’s still alive, Sansa will be furious with him.

There is very little that is more important to Sansa than Northern Independence – as she has made abundantly clear over the past few moons – including her own life.

But to Jon, nothing is more important than Sansa.

As the ash and smoke had cleared after the Battle for Winterfell, as the bodies were collected and moved and burnt in pyres, as Jon had searched everywhere for his beautiful sister-cousin, it had slowly become clear that she wasn’t to be found.

The castle had been thrown into a frenzy when they’d realised that Sansa was neither in Winterfell nor amongst the dead, and it wasn’t for three days that they’d learnt what had become of her.

The scroll Cersei had sent had also held a lock of Sansa’s fiery hair, and as the meeting of the Lords raged around him as they all debated on what to do, Jon had been unable to speak or listen as he’d stared at the etches in the wooden table and imagined all of the terrible things Cersei would be doing to her.

All it took was one foolish Lord to suggest that they leave the Lady Sansa in King’s Landing, because after all they still have their King and no Dragon Queen to worry about – “so why bother sending our exhausted men across the country to retrieve one woman who’s probably dead anyway?” – for Jon to stand from his chair. It had scraped across the floor and sent every single man silent, including that who had dared to suggest they leave Sansa in Cersei’s clutches. Jon didn’t know who he was, still doesn’t, but his face is memorised so that when Jon gets back he’ll have his head.

Jon knows – gods, he knows – that he is playing right into Cersei’s hands, probably even better than she’d imagined. He knows that he’s in no state of mind for this, because he’ll likely pay any price Cersei demands of him if she lets Sansa go free.  

Any political savvy Jon had had within him had died with Daenerys.

He is too exhausted now to do much other than climb atop the only dragon that remained in the world and fly south.

He’d intended to ride a horse, but the thought of Sansa in King’s Landing for longer than the two days it will take him to fly down . . . he would have killed three horses and near on himself, if he’d had to, but he has a dragon now and so he goes as quick as he can.

By the time he arrives in King’s Landing, he’s slept only for a minute or two here and there in the two days it took him to fly, and perhaps even less than that in the days before, when he had no idea where she was and every time he’d closed his eyes to sleep all he could see was the variety of ways she might be being tortured.

Jon had hoped that he was stronger than this, but – when he stumbles into the Throne Room of the Red Keep, sleep deprived and sick to his stomach with guilt and worry and fear, he catches sight of Sansa gagged and bound by Cersei’s side, her red hair sheared to her jaw and a bruise blooming across her cheek, and he immediately falls to his knees.

Cersei doesn’t even need to smile her cruel, vicious smile for Jon to know that he has already lost.

Sansa may hate him for this, for how quickly and easily he has revealed his desperation, but he can’t care. Not when he wants her to leave with her life. Above all else, that’s what matters to him: that she’s alive, and home.

Because despite it all, despite the whispers that have followed him since he came back to life that claim him a god, or the praise that he is the greatest swordsman to ever live, or the stories he knows are shared that always, always glorify his battles and make them seem easier than they were, make it out like he brought victory when really it was sheer luck; despite it all, he is just a man, who is in love with a woman, and who couldn’t bear to see her die.

“Please,” he croaks, eyes downcast in that way that he has learnt so well since becoming acquainted with Daenerys, “please, let her go. I’ll give you anything.”

He hears Cersei stand, but he daren’t look up at her. Her feet come into his line of vision, her black dress swirling around her shoes, and still he stays prostrated before her.

Pathetic, perhaps, and certainly not the man he was raised to be but - . . . he doesn’t know what else to do, and he’s far past gambling with Sansa’s life. He has known nothing but keeping her safe and protected since he emerged into this cursed second life, and has committed each act he has with only one goal in mind.

I’ll protect you, I promise.

“Your miserable grovelling has made this much less satisfying than I’d hoped it would, bastard.”

Jon stays quiet.

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, all he wants is Sansa in his arms, and then back in Winterfell (for surely Cersei will not let them both leave, and Jon made his peace with dying in the South the moment he stepped foot on Dragonstone and Daenerys had his boat taken away).

“You’re just like your father,” Cersei says, a haughty tone to her voice. “You have a dragon to bargain with, to threaten me with, and yet you’ve still come here with the hope that your desperate words will convince me to set her free?”

Jon wonders how this might have ended, if he’d come to Cersei with the determination of fire and blood rather than the melancholy of his true House, and he knows that he could never have condemned a whole city to burn just because he is in love.

Cersei bends down and grasps his chin in her fingers, and when she brushes her lips over his temple Jon gets a strong whiff of wine on her breath.

“You’re pretty like Rhaegar, though, aren’t you?”

For a moment, fear grips his heart as he realises Cersei has learnt the truth of his parentage. It releases a moment later when he remembers that he doesn’t have to worry about the secret spreading now Daenerys is gone.

Cersei pulls away from him, her green eyes piercing his soul, and as she turns her back to him and walks back to her Throne, she calls over her shoulder, “You’re in love with her, then?”

“More than you know.”

The frown that mars Cersei’s face after his confession is unexpected, but he stays focussed on it. He doesn’t dare turn to Sansa and see her reaction to the truth.

“I know a thing or two about Targaryen men in love with Stark women,” Cersei says, then lets a contemplative silence fall over the hall.

Jon doesn’t move from where he’s knelt, even though his entire body aches and begs to be released into sleep. You don’t need her! He wants to scream. Not now you have me. I’m the Targaryen, a threat to your reign.

“I’d planned to take you, and kill your dearest Sansa of course,” Cersei says, after they’ve sat in silence for so long Jon becomes unsure whether his knees will ever unbend, “but I think that if I did, you might just throw yourself from a window, and I have much more important uses for you than that.”

Jon dares to cast his eyes over to Sansa at that. She’s staring back at him, an unreadable if fairly passive expression on her face. She’s still wearing the dress he saw her in last: the black one, with the leather armour laid over the torso, a look so fierce that the first time he saw her in it hr almost fell to his knees to grasp the hem of it and beg for her forgiveness (or to fuck him, maybe, he still isn’t sure which request would have spilt from his lips).

Aside from the bruise, and the way her hair has been hacked at, she looks relatively unharmed. It’s likely untrue, but Jon will gain nothing by trying to pull apart the aloof expression she’s adopted. He would know; he’s tried many times before.

“I’ll let her go,” Cersei agrees finally. “Back North, where she belongs. As part of my Kingdom, but I suspect you already knew that. In return, you’re to stay here, bastard.”

Both of these demands Jon had expected. It makes it no easier to witness Sansa’s frown, and to feel his heart break over the thought that the last time he’ll ever see her she is displeased with him.

But they are things he can live with if it means her freedom and her life.

The gag is pulled from Sansa’s mouth, and then she’s thrust onto her feet. The harsh shove of the guard makes her stumble, and it’s enough to make Jon attempt to rise to his feet, but then hands are clamped down on his shoulders and he can’t move.

“Your Grace,” Sansa says, coy and clipped as she curtsey’s. “Thank you for your kindness. If you would permit me just one more thing, I would like to say goodbye to Jon.”

Cersei quirks an amused brow, then waves her hand in permittance and takes the final gulp from her goblet.

Sansa’s steps are sure and true as she comes towards him, and she wastes no time in kneeling down for him. In a move that mimics Cersei, she grasps his chin; she is much more tender than Cersei was, much more loving. Her fingers caress his jaw, and then she leans in and kisses him.

Jon feels like his brain and heart stop, and while the kiss lasts only a second at most, he still chases after her lips, desperately wanting more.

Cersei’s amused laugh cuts through the air, but Jon’s eyes are still closed as he wishes that the moment never had to end; that he could live forever in that second in which his lips were pressed against Sansa’s, where they belonged.

“Oh, if only Ned Stark could see you now!” Cersei says with delight, clapping her hands together once. “How I would relish watching his face turn down in that infuriating frown of his.”

Sansa nuzzles her nose against his, a wolf-like gesture of care, but her fingers dip into his jaw just a little bit tighter, giving way to the possessiveness underneath.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers, “I won’t let her marry you.”

Jon hadn’t been worried about that, but as soon as Sansa says it he realises that this must be what Cersei meant when she said more important uses for you.

Sansa stays hovered over him, and he wishes she would kiss him again, but she doesn’t. She just stays with her face pressed against his, and Jon thinks that if this is the last time he ever see’s her, then at least they had this. It is so comforting, in fact, that Jon is sure he falls asleep against her cheek, because one moment he is basking in the peace of her, and the next a terrible, wet cough permeates the air.

He opens his eyes and goes to pull away from Sansa, but she cups his face with her hands and hushes him, brushing the curls by his temple in a such a soothing way that he relaxes into her again.

Another cough, louder this time, and then a gasp. Jon has seen enough death in his life to know the sound of it intimately.

Footsteps echo, desperate and hurried, and then Cersei’s rasping voice hisses, “What have you done?”

Jon doesn’t let Sansa distract him this time. He pulls away from her to watch as Cersei falls to her knees, grasping desperately at her throat, her face an ugly shade of red and purple, with blood dripping from her mouth.

Sansa doesn’t move away from Jon as guards rush over to their queen, and Jon can’t tear his eyes away from Cersei.

“An ugly death,” Sansa admits to him, her voice a whisper in his ear. “But now she gets to be with her son. And she can die like him, too.”

“You did this?” Jon asks.

“In her wine goblet.”

Sansa doesn’t elaborate further, but he doesn’t need any more detail. He likely should feel disgusted that Sansa could bestow what is obviously a slow and painful death upon another person, but - . . . his first life changed him, and his death changed him even more. He feels nothing for Cersei, despite the way she’s died, like he felt nothing for Ramsey, or Daenerys.

They are just deaths, necessary deaths, because Jon and Sansa have been put in a position in which they’re forced to choose: us or them.

It is not his fault that they have come out victorious on all counts.

“Go on, then,” Sansa encourages him, kissing the arc of his cheekbone, “get your sword. Kill the guards.”

Jon rises to his feet immediately, and gets his sword from where it lays, abandoned by a guard that had rushed over to his dying queen. Jon makes his way through the handful of them easily and quickly, and soon enough they are left alone in the Throne Room that stinks of death and blood.

Jon turns back to Sansa, blood splattered across his clothes. She smiles at him, a small thing, but his heart swells nonetheless.

Sansa moves over to where Cersei lies, empty eyes staring at the sky. She bends down to Cersei’s prone body and picks the golden circlet from the dead woman’s head.

When she places it atop her own head, the gold of it swimming in the beauty of her now-short hair, Jon’s breath is blown from his lungs.

The bruise that is flowered on her cheek doesn’t dim her beauty in the slightest, and the blue of her eyes sparkle as her gaze falls back on him.

Sansa doesn’t remove the Queen’s crown as she makes her way over to him, and the diamond encrusted points of it dig into the skin of his cheek when she pulls him close.

“Oh, Jon,” Sansa sighs, and he can’t quite make out her tone, can’t figure out the intricacies of the way his name sounds on her tongue, the way each letter dances as if she’s tasting them in her mouth. She backs him up, so that his knee’s hit the Iron Throne and he falls into it. “Thank you for coming. My silly, brave Northman.”

Sansa sinks down on top of him, her fingers spearing through the curls at the nape of his neck, and she brushes her lips over his. Even such a gentle, brief kiss is better than he could have imagined, and the noise that escapes his throat sounds like the whimper of a dog.

It pleases Sansa, however, as she smiles against him and then captures his mouth in a much harder kiss. She fills his hands and his mouth and his mind with her body, and then he fills her, too, right there on the Iron Throne, the dead bodies of their enemies still littering the floor.

She bites his ear when she peaks, and he pants between her breasts when he spills, and afterwards, she straightens herself from his lap and lets her dress fall back down around her ankles like she didn’t just fuck him atop the Iron Throne, while he stays sitting there, a confused yet satiated mess.

With Cersei’s crown still perched delicately on her head, Jon knows that Sansa, despite having been kidnapped, has outmanoeuvred them all; including him.

But Jon doesn’t mind. This is a battle he is happy to lose.

[jungshookz]

ceo!yoongi - the wedding

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: ceo!au, the fluffiest fluff, humour, you look like a pRINCESS, a lil bit of n s f w, jungkook is a brat no surprise there

→ wordcount: 7.7k

→ notes: it’s hERE the big day!!!!!! i’m so happy that you guys like ceo!yoongi you blew my expectations for the response to this fic out of the water!!!! i had,,, such a good time writing this i fckin love weddings as you can tell i got a little carried away because this ‘“”””drabble”””’’ is nearly 8000 words long?? whoops ALSO i used google translate for the korean part so,,,,,,, if it’s not an accurate translation please don’t come for me i am SORRY 

if u wanna ask yoongs or y/n anything u know what to do ;-)

you’re getting married to min yoongi today. holy shit. 

(gif isn’t mine!) 

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

you’ve never felt more like a princess than in this moment

“not half bad” you mutter to yourself, turning a little and checking yourself out in the mirror

your gown is beaUtiful you got it custom made and everything and it even came with a VEIL

“oh my god,,,, i’m going to cry” jimin appears behind you in the mirror and he presses a hand to his chest “you don’t even look like yourself whERE are your mismatched socks”

“i couldn’t find a pair of socks to go with the heels” you joke and turn your head a little but the makeup artists turns your head back so she can dab a little more lipstick on your lips

yoongi hired like a miLLion stylists because he didn’t trust jimin to do your makeup and hair (and tbh jimin doesn’t trust himself to do your makeup and hair either lol)

a minute goes by before she decides you’re good to go but she fixes your veil a little and then dusts some glittery powered on your exposed chest and your shoulders

wow

you really are a disney princess now

“could you guys give us a second?” you give the many stylists a polite smile and they all agree and eventually file out of the room

you lift the dress up a little so you can step off the mini podium and jimin immediately rushes over to grab onto your shoulders

“…you’RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY”

“…I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY”

“i can’t believe you’re getting married before me”

“i know!!! crazy stuff” you smile

“i’m so happy for you” jimin sniffles and you coo before leaning in to give him a hug but he stops you before you can hug him and you pull away clearly hurt

“you’re going to get glitter all over my suit and i dO not want that” but he leans in to kiss your cheek very very gently

“i miss yoongi” you pout and turn to look at yourself in the mirror (wat u look rly good okay)

you haven’t seen yoongi in like 24 hours because both of you had your bachelorette/bachelor parties and then it’s the whole ‘the bride and groom can’t see each other before the wedding’ thing so you and yoongi had your own hotel rooms :-(

of course jimin shared a room with you so it wasn’t that bad

“yoongi looks really good in his suit” jimin grins and stands next to you in the mirror “just to let you know”

“i-“ suddenly your phone vibrates on the table and you click-clack over in your heels to grab it

your face immediately lights up in a smile when you see who’s calling

“hey boss” you pick up the call and you hear yoongi’s raspy laugh on the other end

“hi, baby.”

“i miss u”

“i miss you too. i can’t wait to see you.”

you glance over your shoulder and jimin’s preoccupied with fixing the rose in his suit pocket

“i’m wearing the thigh garters and the lacy white panties you bought for me under my dress” you lower your voice a little so jimin can’t hear you

“oh yeah? quit trying to lure me out of my room - you’re the one who said we weren’t allowed to see each other” yoongi teases

you hear some commotion from yoongi’s end and you check the time on the clock

yep

it’s time

“i think that’s my cue. i’ll see you soon. i love you.”

“love you more” you whisper and then yoongi hangs up and you put your phone on the table

“i can’t believe you’re making me walk down the aisle with jungkook” jimin grumbles and fixes a strand of his hair

“we didn’t have enough bridesmaids!!” you giggle and jimin rolls his eyes before giving you a quick hug and another kiss on the cheek

“i’ll see you out there?” he raises his fist and you fist bump him gently and nod

once jimin leaves a second later your parents enter the room and your mom coos at how gorgeous her daughter looks on this wonderful day

“look at you!” she gasps and wraps you up in a hug and you laugh lightly

“never thought i’d see the day where you actually put in effort with how you look” your dad jokes and your mom smacks his arm in warning “you ready, champ?”

“as ready as i’ll ever be” you grab your bouquet off the chair and link arms with your mom

it’s only once you’re standing in front of the closed double doors that you realise you are noT as ready as you’ll ever be

your heart is going like a million miles per hour

and you didn’t think it would happen to you

but you have cold feet

what if you’re too young to get married?

maybe you and yoongi are diving into this relationship too quickly

like you’ve only been dating a couple months and that iS a pretty short time to date and then suddenly decide to get married

what if you turn into those couples who get married young and then eventually the spark disappears from the marriage and you guys turn into a bitter old couple stuck with each other forever

oh god

if you and yoongi divorce you’ll have to find another job and you don’t wANT to find another job

there was an opening at the damn sandwich station

you don’t want to spend the rest of your life making sandwiches with too much mayo and too little tuRKEY

you don’t want to be a LISA

lol shady

oH GOD

you are 110% not prepared when the wooden doors open slowly  

but the first thing you see is yoongi waiting for you at the end of the aisle

and oH

he looks so handsome in his crisp tux

and he has a red rose in his suit pocket

his hair is styled perfectly and he’s positively glowing

the venue itself is gorgeous too

fairy lights twinkling everywhere the rose gold and white go reaLLy well together 

the lights are the perfect level of dim and everything just looks so romantic and well put together 

everything is perfect

and this is the part where you’re supposed to start walking

…

okay

thIS is the part where you’re supposed to start walking

…

okay nOW

…

…

uh-oh

your feet feel like they’ve been glued to the ground and everyone’s just… staring at you

“you okay, honey?” your mom nudges your side gently and you’re snapped out of your thoughts

your mouth is all dry and you can’t open your mouth to say anything but you nod quickly

your heart is like exploding in your chest

of course your mother knows best and she can tell you’re like suPer nervous

“you know, i was pretty nervous before my wedding too.”

you immediately turn to look at her and you’re like …go on

“i thought i was too young to be getting married. thought i was ruining my life. i had so many things i wanted to do, so many things i wanted to see, and i thought getting married was going to hold me back. but… i loved your father so, so much. all those things that i wanted to do and all the things i wanted to see? i ended up doing those things with him right by my side. it’s your wedding - of course you’re nervous. but tell me - you see that man at the end of the aisle?”

you turn to look at yoongi and he’s staring at you with worry in his eyes because you stILL haven’t started walking and the crowd is getting a little antsy

“do you love him?”

“of course i love yoongi” you breathe out

you love yoongi with your entire heart

you love how sweet and caring he is like when you stay late with him and end up falling asleep at your desk and you always wake up with yoongi’s suit jacket around you to keep you warm

sometimes he carries you to the car and he’s sO gentle with you to make sure he doesn’t wake you up

you love how thoughtful he is like when he knows you’re having a bad day and surprises you with cookies or a pint of ice cream even though that’s the last thing he wants you to eat

you love how considerate he is like when you tell him an awful joke and he laughs anyway even though you’re like the least funny person in the entire world

and hello?? he’s so snuggly in the morning you loVe that

you love min yoongi.

“and you want to marry him?”

“more than anything else in the entire world”

“then what’s the problem?”

“...i don’t wanna trip down the aisle” you squeak out and your dad stifles a laugh before patting your arm gently

“c’mon, y/n. can’t keep your fiancé waiting.”

there seems to be this collective sense of relief in the crowd when you start walking and jimin reaches up to dab the bead of sweat lining his forehead before shooting yoongi a thumbs up

both you and yoongi are just staring at each other as you make your way down the aisle and yoongi can’t help but think about how fuckign lucky he is to be marrying you

you give your parents a hug and a kiss before they’re handing you over to yoongi

you wobble a little on your heels but yoongi grabs your hand before you can topple over thAnk god

yoongi lifts the veil up over your head and his heart flutters when he sees you smiling at him with rosy cheeks

“hi” you whisper quietly and yoongi smiles in response before brushing some of your hair back

the crowd takes a second to settle in and yoongi takes advantage of the rustling

“hi. you okay?”

you nod quickly and squeeze his hand “i love you”

his cheeks immediately warm and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips “love you more”

the two of you turn to face the priest

“dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of min yoongi and y/n y/l/n…”

the priest goes on and on and the entire time you and yoongs are just staring at each other and giving each other knowing looks like ‘good god, this is boring’

yoongi pinches your hand hard when it looks like you’re about to let out a yawn and you quickly suppress it when he gives you a warning look

finally it’s time to exchange vows and noW you know what you forgot this morning

your cue cards

you were never really good at improvisation so this… is going to be interesting

luckily the priest invites yoongi to go first so that gives you some time to come up with soMEthing  

“y/n. when we first met, i have to be honest - i did not like you. like at all.”

wow

it doesn’t get much better than that lol

“whA-“

“you insulted me in the elevator, you spilt coffee all over me, you kept forgetting to remind me when my meetings were scheduled, you nEver threw away your cookie wrappers-“

“okAy i think we get it” you scowl and everyone in the audience can’t help but laugh

how the hell are you getting roasted even at your own damn weDDing

yoongi smiles and squeezes your hand

“but even after all of this, somehow, someway, i fell in love with you.  i fell in love with the way you stumbled into my office every morning with a half-ass made cup of coffee, the way you were willing to stay late with me even though i know you would much rather go home and watch TV, the way your face lights up whenever i bought cookies for you... i knew you were the one for me the night that we kissed, and i wouldn’t want to have anyone else in the world help me tie my ties. y/n y/l/n, i loved you then, i love you now, and i’ll love you forever.”

aW that’s so cUTE you didn’t know yoongi had it in himself to say something that cheesy without puking

“i actually left my cue cards in the office. so. there’s that.” you clear your throat and give yoongi an apologetic look “i…” for a second you blank because you actually forgot what you had planned to say

bits and pieces are coming back to you but daNg it you spent like a week’s worth of lunch breaks writing them out

“yoongi. i also wasn’t a huge fan of you when we first met. no matter what i did, you’d always give me a look of disappointment and scold me for being a bad secretary. all i know is…”

fuck it

time to improvise

you clear your throat and stand up a little straighter

“all i know is that you’re the one i want to spend the rest of my life with. your beauty, heart, and mind inspire me to be the best person i can be. i feel truly blessed that out of all the people in the world - you chose me. you chose me, and i get to share my life with you, and you’ve chosen to share yours with me. you make me happier than i ever could imagine and more loved than i ever thought possible.” you clear your throat because you feel a lil lump growing in there

you’re not usually this emotional but

there’s just something about weddings

“…min yoongi, you are my person. you are my love and my life - today, and always.”

everyone bursts into applause when you finish and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride because everyone’s tearing up and also yOONgi’s eyes are gLASSY

and yoongi nEVer cries

and now it’s time to make it ~official~

“Min Yoongi. Do you take Y/N Y/L/N as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?”

yoongi’s never been so sure of anything in his entire life

“I do.” he slips a ring onto your trembling hand and you try your best to calm your nerves but you’re just sO happy

“Y/N Y/L/N. Do you take Min Yoongi as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or-“

“yES i dO” you reply a little too enthusiastically and the crowd bursts into a murmur of giggles

the priest smiles before gesturing for you to slip the ring onto yoongi’s finger

and…

“i now pronounce you man and wife. you may now kiss the bride.” yoongi immediately swoops down and plants his lips on yours and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck when he places his hands on your hips to pull you closer

everyone’s cheering around you but all you can focus on is yoongi

it feels like you guys are the only ones in the room

“aLright you two save it for the honeymoon” jimin smacks you with your bouquet and you blush before pulling away but you still cling to yoongi

“i love you” you beam and yoongi leans down to give you another kiss

“love you more”

you and yoongi are all over each other at the reception

not like thAT but like in a more romantic lovey dove ooey gooey way

“we’re married” you giggle and nuzzle against yoongi’s neck and he reaches over to yank your chair closer to him

“we’re married” he repeats and holds your hand out so he can look at the twinkling ring on your finger

you pull away and look at him

“i made you cry”

“you did no such thing”

“i maDE you tear up” you tease and jab at his chest and yoongi swats your hand away

“there was dust in my eyes”

“there was nO dust anywh-“

clink clink clink

jimin’s suddenly standing up from his seat next to you and he’s clinking the side of his flute of champagne

“everyone! i’d like to make a toast.”

you turn your attention to jimin and woW your best friend looks especially handsome tonight!!!!

this lighting makes his skin look greAT

“first of all - congratulations to the newlyweds.” everyone applauds you and yoongi and the two of you give nods and smiles of acknowledgements “y/n and i have been friends for as long as i can remember. i’ve always been the one y/n goes to in times of need, i’ve always been her pizza/movie night buddy… but everything’s different now. boss, please take care of my girl for me, okay?”

“of course i will.” yoongi nods and you push your bottom lip out in a pout when you see jimin’s eyes glimmering

omg

your eyes are getting watery too

“okay. that’s all i have to say.” jimin’s voice wavers and then he sets down the microphone and you immediately get up and coo and wrap your best friend up in a big fat hUG

“mY babY!!!!!” you sniffle and press a kiss to jimin’s cheek and basically cling to him and you and jimin are off in your own little world and yoongi’s like ahEm i am your husband pls pay attention to me

“i wanna make a toast too!!!!” jungkook stands up and nearly knocks his chair over

clink clink CLONK

he clinks the side of his flute and it immediately shatters into a trillion pieces

“whoops” he blinks down at the shards of glass and then sets his flute down and picks up the microphone

“i’d just like to let everyone know that y/n herself said that if yoongi wasn’t in the picture she would’ve definitely ended up with me. yoongi - i can still steal your girl, so don’t piss me off”

“excuse me?” yoongi’s glare immediately makes the smile drop from jungkook’s face

in that moment he knew he fucked up

“nothingi’msorrysir”

so yeah everyone’s having a pretty good time

you break away from all the socialising to get yourself a drink

and the next thing you know you’re hearing jungkook over the loudspeakers and you’re like oh nO what is this punk what up to

“everyone! please help me welcome mr and mrs min for their first official dance as a married couple!”

o god

o gOD you forgot the first dance was a thing

obviously you like the part where you dance with yoongi but not the part where everyone like staRes at you dancing with yoongi

yoongi knows how much you hate crowds buT also he wants to show you off as his wife so u better get ur ass over here or he’ll literally drag you over

you end up getting nudged back to the dance floor by everyone and you whine quietly when yoongi takes your hand and pulls you in

“this is so embarrassing” you groan and yoongi laughs before wrapping his arms around your waist

“only you would be embarrassed at your own damn wedding”

you peek over yoongi’s shoulders and see literally evERyone staring at you and your cheeks flush instantly

“hey, look at me. it’s just you and me, hm?” yoongi presses his forehead against yours and you crinkle your nose in responsethe two of you dance for a little while longer and you want to stay in the moment forever because yoongi’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear and you are just so so SO in love with him

he has his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and your arms are dangling loosely around your waist

occasionally he’ll swoop down to give you a small kiss but he keeps it PG because you do have an audience after all and he’s not about to make out with you in front of ur parents lol

finaLLy the slow song switches back to a pop song and everyone floods the dance floor once again and you’re like phEw but also kinda bummed out at the same time because you wanted to slow dance with ur mans for a little while longer you felt like you were at prom lol

cutting the cake had to be the most fun part because you got to smash it into yoongi’s face

“y/n, i swear to god, this suit was sO expensive if you get onE dollop of cream-“ yoongi doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because you’re suddenly pushing the slice of cake right into his face and everyone bursts into laughter at the sight

yoongi staggers back and is like :0000000!!!!!!!!!! and he wipes the chunks of cake off his face and off his precious suit before glaring at you and you’re like uh-oh

and then you realise he’s not actually mad because he’s lunging for you grabbing your face and pulling you in for a FAT kiss

you squeal because cake is getting all over your face but you kiss yoongi back anyway and giggle against his lips

and of course yoongi gets his revenge because he digs his gruBBy hand into the cake and you’re like N O   W A IT

anyways you end up getting cake all over your chest and yoongi gets it all over his suit but you both clean up to the best of your abilities

the party finALLY gets started and all you have to say is that your friends and family get wild sOoo quickly

everyone here has obviously taken advantage of the endless cocktails

people are jamming out on the dance floor

some people are enjoying drinks by the bar

jimin dragged yoongi off somewhere so you’ve kind of just been hopping from table to table thanking people for coming

“joon you look so handsome tonight!!!! thank u for coming!!” you bend down and wrap an arm around him to give him a hug from behind before pinching his cheek and sitting down in the empty seat next to him

“of course i had to come to my favourite coffee-thief’s wedding” he teases and takes a sip of his champagne “also this champagne is like reALLy good”

“right??? it’s the really bougie stuff i almost picked the one with real gold flakes in it but i resisted because i don’t want to completely destroy yoongi’s wallet”

the two of you end up chatting for a little while longer before suddenly jimin appears out of nowhere and drags you out of your chair

“wOah where are you taking me???” before you know it you’re being plopped down on a chair in the middle of the rOOm and there’s a crowd around you

and when you turn to face the front you see your husband walking over to you

you immEdiately feel warmth ziP down to your nether regions

he’s taken off his suit jacket and his tie and he’s unbuttoned a couple buttons on his shirt anD he has his sleeves rolled up and holy shit did it suddenly just get warm in here or what

you can tell he’s a little tipsy because he has a lazy smirk on his face and his eyes are kind of cloudy

“hi baby” yoongi cups your jaw before bending down and pressing his lips against yours

he tastes faintly of beer and mint

“how much did jimin give you to drink?” you giggle and push at his chest gently then watch as he drops to his knees in front of you

and the way he looks up at you with dark eyes makes your insides melt

it takes a second for you to realise what’s actually happening

the thigh garter

the crowd goes wild when yoongi’s head suddenly disappears under your dress and you feel his hands grip at your knees before pushing them apart so he can wiggle himself in between them

“yOongi!” you gasp quietly when you feel him nip at your inner thigh

he’s definitely noT supposed to go this far up

your face is on fire at this point but yoongi’s having the time of his life and everyone else seems to be into it

you feel him press a trail of warm kisses from the inside of your knee all the way to your inner thigh

and then he’s taking your garter in between his teeth and slowly pulling it down your leg

a bunch of cheers and whoops echo around the room when yoongi crawls out from under your dress with the lacy garter in his mouth

he smirks up at you and your cheeks heat up and you quickly shuT your legs

he ruffles his hair quickly to fix it before getting up off his knees and immediately tossing the garter into the eager crowd of mEN

you’re not surprised that jimin is the one who catches it (he shoved like three other guys out of the way) and you’re like alREADY planning his bachelor party for him in your head

yoongi’s like the last person you think of when you think of ’dance floor’ so when he suddenly drags you towards it while you’re in the middle of getting another glass of champagne you’re like genuinely shook

jungkook and jimin and all ya friends are all bopping on the dance floor and you feel yoongi grab your wrist before he’s twirling you around in a circle

you stumble into his chest and giggle before wrapping your arms around his neck loosely

“what has gotten into you!!!!” you’re not complaining at all you’re a huGE fan of this loosey-goosey yoongi

“i’m just really happy that’s all” he murmurs and leans down a little to give you a kiss

“yeah? you’re just really happy?” you giggle when yoongi abandons your lips and instead decides to begin planting kisses down your neck before biting down playfully on your shoulder

“i think we should go and consummate our marriage as soon as possible” yoongi purrs into your ear as he sways the two of you back and forth “our suite is ready for us”

the whole thigh garter thing put him in a certain mood

“we can’t just leave our own party” as muCh as you want to leave it would just be rude!!

“it’s not like anyone’s going to notice with jungkook dancing on the bar like a madman” you look over and sure enough there’s jungkook jumping up and down on the bar while the poor bartender’s just trying to do his job

of course

because he’s min frickin yoongi

a Professional Businessman Who Is Good At Convincing People To Do Things For Him

he convinces you to leave your own damn party

the two of you manage to sneak out but not before jimin rushes over with yoongi’s suit jacket and tie and your phone and tells the two of you to have fun wink wonk

yoongi slips into his suit jacket and leaves his tie hanging around his neck and then he’s grabbing your hand and the two of you are slipping out the back door

and now it’s just the sound of your heels and yoongi’s dress shoes clicking against the marble floor while the two of you practically sprint down the hallway in a fit of giggles

“can’t you move any faster?? you’re wasting my time here woman” yoongi groans playfully and you’re like this dress is like fiVe pounds and these heels are like six inches what do you expect me to dO

“take your heels off then”

“u know what that is a very good idea yoongs” you bend down and step out of your heels before picking them up

and the next thing you know you’re being swept off your feet and thrown over yoongi’s shoulder like a sack of damn potatoes

“jEsUs-“ you shriek in surprise and yoongi smacks your bum over your dress as he walks the two of you into the elevator “u know there are more romantic versions of doing this”

you’re getting red from all the blood rushing to your head and yoongi chuckles before bending over to let you get back onto your feet

“alright, fine. i’ll try to be more romantic just for you.” yoongi grabs your arm and wraps it around his neck before he’s lifting you up and carrying you bridal style just like how u wanted

you coo and lean in to kiss his cheek before you’re holding your left hand out and admiring the glimmering wedding ring on your finger

“i’m married” you beam and watch the ring reflect under the light

“wow, me too. what a coincidence!” yoongi replies sarcastically and you pinch his cheek before taking the room key out of his breast pocket

yoongi lets you back down onto your feet after the elevator door opens and he’s not surprised that the first thing you do is basically scream rACE U TO THE ROOM and you zip down the hall

yoongi laughs when he sees you stumble a little and then chases after you

unsurprisingly he catches up to you right as you reach the doors

it’s hard to unlock the door to the suite with yoongi nipping at your shoulder and very subtly grinding into your bum and you giggle and swat his wandering hands away before finally pushing the door open and wOW

how did they fit a damn chandelier in here??

your heels fall to the floor with a clatter and you walk in even further and there’s a golden cart sitting by the couch with chocolate covered strawberries and champagne with goLD flakes in them and um??? ARE THOSE

ARE THOSE YOUR VENDING MACHINE COOKIES

you gasp and nearly trip over your dress as you stumble over to the cart and yoongi’s like i should’ve hID the food cart damnit because it’s pretty obvious you’re not in the fuck me mood you’re in the fuck me uP WITH THIS FOOD mood

you plop down on the couch and it bounces underneath your weight and yoongi can’t help but laugh because you’re like drowning in your dress you kinda look like a cupcake

he sits down next to you and pulls the food cart towards him

“what a perfect way to end the night” you sigh happily and yoongi turns and is like what do u mean end the night pls tell me we’re not ending our night like thIS

you reach over to nab a cookie while yoongi pops the cork off the champagne

some of it flows out from the top and yoongi shakes it off his hand before pouring some into the two flutes

he hands you a glass and you take a sip and your eyes roll to the back of your head because that is sO good

you watch yoongi underneath the dim light of the chandelier and watch as his adam’s apple bobs after he takes a sip

fuck

he looks good

you snap yourself out of it and your attention turns to the food

“gimme a strawberry” you poke yoongi’s side before shuffling a little closer to your husband

yoongi rolls his eyes playfully and sets his flute down before bending forward a little and choosing the biggest strawberry for you

“here you go, you big baby” you giggle and as yoongi raises the strawberry to your mouth  

you take a bite of it and he pops the other half into his mouth

he raises his hand and his fingertips are stained with melted chocolate and he turns to look for a napkin because he is not about to stain his suit with chocolate

and what he’s definitely nOt expecting is for you to take his hand and bring it to your mouth

o,,,,,oh m,.,my

you wrap your lips around yoongi’s pointer finger and pull away with a pop

and then you’re taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking gently before you pull away and wipe the corner of your mouth and yoongi swallows thickly

“there you go, all clean” you murmur shyly and that,,,, was.,.,. the hottest thing he thinks he’s ever seen in his entire life “gimme another one”

yoongi raises another one to your mouth and when you go to bite it he pulls it away and smirks

you see the playful glint in his eyes and you go for the bite again and he pulls it away aGain

“yoongi!!!” you whine and pout and yoongi grins at you with his gummy smile and cocks his head

“what? come and get it” yoongi holds the berry in between his teeth and points to it and you immediately scramble over to take a bite

before you get the chance to do that yoongi spits the berry out quickly so you end up kissing him instead

and you could technically pull away and grab a berry from the plate yourself but like

making out with yoongi is always nice

“that was sneaky” you mutter into the kiss and yoongi hums in response

his hands are starting to wander

you feel one hand disappear under your dress and the other moves to your back to tug at the zipper of the dress

you jump when you feel yoongi’s hand give your ass a good squeeze and dang now your dress is fully unzipped and is starting to slide off your shoulders

“waiT wait” you pant and push yourself away from yoongi

“what’s the matter?”

“i wanna go to the bedroom i’m not letting u fuck me on a couch on our first night as a married couple r u kidding me”

touché

yoongi groans impatiently and flops onto his back on the plush bed because once you get the bedroom ur like okay give me a minute i need to pee

what!!! he’s a man with simPLE neeDS

he just wants to make love to his wife okay!!!!!!!!

yoongi doesn’t know how he forgot this detail but when you emerge from the bathroom dressed in a very vERy sexy pair of lacy bra and panties that he bought for you to wear especially for tonight he’s suddenly like lol the wait was woRth it omg

“like it?”

it came with this short silky robe that’s slipping off one of your shoulders as you approach him

yoongi swears his mouth is watering

“like it? i fucking love it.”

holy fuck

you are

so

sO

hot

you giggle because you’ve never seen yoongi so flustered before

you straddle him and his hands are like hovering over your hips

you’ve worn lingerie for him before but tonight you look extra ravishing

you look at him and his eyes flicker up to from your boobs (he can’t help it they’re like right in his face okay) to your face

his eyes are all dark and blown out and he places his hands on your hips before giving you a squeeze and taking his bottom lip in between his teeth

“fuck, look at you...” even after all this time you have to admit you still get blushy when yoongi sees you wearing lingerie just for him

now you’RE the one who’s flustered  

once he gets the flimsy robe off of you and tosses it to the ground you instinctively cover yourself up but yoongi grabs your wrists before you can do that and he holds them behind your back with one hand

“c’mere” yoongi rasps, hooking a finger under your chin and pulling you down towards him so he can kiss you

when he lets go of your wrists you immediately reach up and start undoing his buttons as he peels his suit jacket off and tosses it somewhere

“you gonna make love to me now?” you feel yoongi unclasp your bra before he’s helping you take his shirt off

“cheesy,” he teases “but yes, i’m going to make love to you now”

you never know why yoongi buys so much lingerie for you because they all end up on the floor like -5 seconds after you show it to him

“fuck, fuck, that’s it, you’re so good for me” yoongi pants and tilts his head up in pleasure because you feel sO tight and soft and warm around him “you’re a-all mine,” he grunts and thrusts into you again and it hits thAt spot inside of you making you cry out

“yours, i’m yours,” you moan and yoongi wants to fall apart when he hears you whimper an ‘i belong to you’ into his ear

he intertwines his fingers with yours before leaning down to plant his lips on yours

it’s reminiscent of the night he proposed to you because he feels your ring biting into the sides of his fingers when you squeeze his hand

the only difference is that now it’s a wedding ring instead of an engagement ring

yoongi wraps his fingers under your thigh and hitches it up against his waist

and he can’t help but look down at where the two of you are connected and he watches himself disappear into you as he thrusts

“shit, baby, don’t squeeze like that” yoongi warns you and you apologise quietly before you nudge your nose against his and kiss him

it only takes another minute or so before you start feeling warmth bubbling inside of you

“yOon- ’m not gonna- please let me c-cum i’m so close”  

yoongi bites down on your shoulder hard when he feels you dig your nails into his back

the bed starts to creak underneath the two of you but yoongi literally does not give a shit because all he can focus on is getting you to cum

his fingers are rubbing figure-8s on your clit while he’s hitting the sweet spot inside of you over and over and ovEr again and you think your soul actually leaves your body when you finally are pushed over the edge

it’s just the sound of your guys’ moans and groans and skin on skin echoing around the room

“i- ah! i love you i l-love youiloveyouiloveyou” you’re crying out yoongi’s name and he just wants to hear you cry out his name on loop for the rest of his liFE

“love you- fuck - love you m-more” yoongi lets out the most guttural groan when he cums and you feel him spurt inside of you as he rides out both of your orgasms

yoongi leans back on his heels and pulls out of you slowly and you immediately clench around nothing

“pretty little pussy n it’s all mine” yoongi mutters more to himself than to you and you immediately blush and clamp your legs shut because you never know what to say when yoongi says something like thAt

“nuh-uh, don’t get shy on me now, you minx” yoongi pries your legs apart with a grin and slots himself in between them again before leaning down to give you a sweet kiss

anyways you and yoongi end up having sex like three more times that night because you guys can’t get enough of each other and each time you finish your hormones are like lol nopE let’s do this AGAIN

thank god the walls here are thick otherwise you’d get many many noise complaints

you wake up early the next morning and find yourself snuggled up to yoongi

you unravel his arm from around your waist and sit up before stretching out your limbs

you pull the sheets up so that it’s covering your chest and you turn to look at your snoozing husband

he’s still glowing from last night and his lips look so soft and pouty

his eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheeks

he looks so beautiful in the soft glow of the morning light

you’ve never been more in love with him than at this moment

your eyes trail down his face to his bare chest until they reach his left hand and your heart warms at the sight of a silver ring wrapped around his ring finger

your heart flutters in your chest because you are no longer ms y/l/n you are now mrs min

wow

you guys are married

you’re his wife

he’s your husband

holy shit

he stirs underneath you and you wait for him to open his pretty brown eyes

“good morning, mr min” you have your chin propped up on your folded hands and yoongi wraps his arm tighter around you before yawning and stretching his limbs out

“good morning, mrs min” his voice is low and raspy from just waking up but he reaches down to poke your nose gently “…how long have you been watching me sleep, you creep?”  

ah

who says romance is dead?

next week you guys are flying to yoongi’s hometown daegu for a traditional korean wedding

which you’re reALLy excited for because you’ve always loved learning about different cultures and traditions

and hello??? the hanbok you’re going to be wearing is a deep purple colour and you love that

plus you’ve been brushing up on your korean lately and you’re preTTY much fluent at this point

(not rly)

you know what though you realised that you can pretty much get away with anything as long as you keep saying 네 [yes]

“shouldn’t you be working right now? i’m not your tutor” yoongi snorts when you stumble into his room with a bunch of korean textbooks clutched to your chest

“listen liSten i’m like basically fluent now okay just have a conversation with me i promise u i will be able to hold a basic conversation” you sit down across from him and yoongi leans forward on his folded arms on the desk

“okay, fine. 안녕하세요.” [hello.]

“안녕하세요!!!!!!!!!!!” [hello!!!!!!!!!!!] you say hello a little too enthusiastically and yoongi chuckles at how cute you are

you have a slight accent (obviously) and he thinks it’s just the cuTEST thing ever

“잘지냈어요?” [how are you?]

“좋은. 그리고 너?” [good. and yourself?]

yoongi figures maybE he can have a little fun with this

“좋은, 고맙습니다. 너 쿠키를 가져간거야?” [good, thank you. are you okay with me taking your cookies away?]

your eyes widen a little in surprise because whaT did he just say,,,.,,,

okay don’t panic

“…네”

“오! 좋은. 또한 점심 시간을 없애고 있습니다.” [oh! good. also, i’m taking your lunch break away.]

“…네…”

“너는 더 이상 지민을 볼 수 없다.” [you’re not allowed to see jimin anymore.]

um

okay you heard jimin in there somewhere

maybe he’s asking you if you like jimin???

“네!”

“나는 리사와 결혼하고 너와 이혼하고있어..” [i’m marrying lisa and divorcing you]

your brows immediately furrow because did he just mention,,, liSA

you don’t know what he said but if lisa’s in there it can’t be good

“아니!” [no!]

“i think you might need to brush up on your korean a little more” yoongi smirks and tilts his head before gesturing to the door “go back to work, jagi”

“why!!!!!!!!!!! my korean’s like noT half bad”

“really? because you just agreed for me to take your cookies away, take your lunch break away, and you’re no longer allowed to see jimin. at least you said no to me marrying lisa and divorcing you. i have a conference call, you gotta get outta here” yoongi gets up from his chair before placing a hand on the small of your back and nudging you towards the door

“wha- that’s SO unfair you know i only know the basics you can’t just do that!!!!!“ yoongi opens the door for you

“sure i can! you agreed to all of it. 키스 [kis-su], please.”

okay at least you know what that means

you cup yoongi’s jaw and pull him down to give him a lil kiss and he taps your bum

“waiT wait i have something else to say” you turn around before yoongi can push you out

“what is it noW”

he’s expecting you to swear at him or say something dumb but instead you wrap your arms around his waist and prop your chin up on his chest to look up at him

“사랑해~” [i love you]

and yoongi’s heart grows like a triLLION TIMES BIGGER YOU ARE SO CUTE

“너를 더 사랑해.” [love you more]

[setaripendragon]

The Light of a Pole Star - Part 3

Okay, this part was a lot of fun. The whole birthday scene came out of nowhere as I was writing, it was a complete aside that turned into an actually important plot point XD Also, Maes’s voice will always and forever sound like Opalsong’s reading of The Demon Alchemist series in my head.

“You know your boy is hopelessly in love with you, don’t you?”

“My- Are you talking about FullMetal?”

“Mmhm.”

“He’s fourteen.”

“Mm, I don’t think he is. Not really.”

“He really is.”

“Don’t be so literal, Roy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I know what you mean, Madame, but it’s still- I can’t just ignore-”

“Ahh…! Is my baby boy falling in love, too?”

“What? No! That’s not-! He’s a child! I would never-!”

“Pfft. Of course you wouldn’t. I raised you better than that.”

“You did.”

“But he’s not going to be a child forever, Roy. He’s not even going to be a child for much longer.”

“…I know.”

“I’d let him work here in a couple of years. Maybe even one, given how world-weary he seems.”

“World-weary. That’s a good phrase for it. Speaking of, how’s Nina doing?”

“Oh, she’s as precocious as you were, Roy-Boy. She’s recovering well.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I’ll have someone drop some pictures off with Maes for you.”

“Oh, good god, alright. I’m sure FullMetal will appreciate some as well.”

“Speaking of, I hear his fifteenth birthday isn’t too far off.”

“Mother…!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Roy, I’m helping you out here.”

“How, exactly?”

“Have you thought about what to get him for his birthday?”

“If you’re about to suggest something salacious, let me cut you off now and say; don’t.”

“Heheh. Only a little salacious. He’s fifteen, I think he can handle a Vittori.”

“A- One of the Vittori reproductions? Really? Why on earth-?”

“Call it a hunch.”

The Hughes residence is packed to bursting. Ed feels distinctly uncomfortable, being at the center of all this attention and effort, but it’s also kind of nice. He isn’t super keen on the idea of celebrating his birthday. He has eight of them rattling around inside his skull, plus two namedays, and a soulday. This one in particular gets lost in amongst the others too easily for him to care very much. Still, Teacher’s visiting, and so is Winry, and a woman who introduced herself as Roy’s foster-sister has brought Nina round, and Roy’s whole team have come, and Gracia has made a freaking fantastic triple chocolate cake.

Al is sitting on the floor a few feet away from the couch where Ed is sitting, passing Elysia crayons for her colouring, and Nina had two slices of cake and is now chattering Winry’s ear off, and Hughes is taking pictures of everyone and everything like a maniac, and Roy’s sister is flirting with Havoc, which seems to be mortifying both Havoc and Roy, which is hilarious. And Teacher is chatting with Gracia and Riza over mugs of tea from her place in Sig’s lap.

It’s good, Ed decides. It’s just good to be surrounded by friends and family and to take one day off from the pressure of righting his wrongs and fixing his mistakes. He’ll get back to the quest to restore Al’s body tomorrow, but today, he has permission to relax a little. It’s good.

“Is it time for presents yet?” Nina asks abruptly, abandoning Winry to throw herself half over the back of the couch, feet in the air and tail wagging, which puts her head somewhere in the vicinity of Ed’s shoulder. “Big brother! You need to open all your presents!”

“Good idea, Nina!” Hughes enthuses, and then suddenly everyone is bustling about retrieving their gifts for him and depositing them on the table. A lot of them, Ed is delighted to see, are book-shaped. Then Hughes holds Elysia up so that she can very solemnly hand Ed the card she’d made for him. It’s covered in glue and glitter, and of course the glitter goes everywhere, and Winry winces when it gets on Ed’s automail, but even she can’t deny that it’s utterly adorable.

“Mine next!” Nina insists, so Ed opens up the clumsily wrapped package she thrusts at him. It turns out to be a hand-knitted scarf, which Ed suspects is the result of Roy’s Mum’s attempts to keep Nina occupied and out of trouble. It’s a little wonky and uneven, but it’s a bright, eye-searing red, and it was made with love, so Ed wraps it around his neck at once and preens. Winry gets him a set of automail maintenance tools, like she always does in a passive-aggressive attempt to remind him to take care of his automail, and Granny sent on a book titled Beginner’s Guide to Combustion Engines, because she thinks she’s hilarious, and only Teacher and Al really get why it pisses him off so much.

Teacher got him a proper Xerxesian kattari, which she must have made herself, and Ed freaks out for a moment, because what idiot decides to take up blacksmithing – even alchemically enhanced blacksmithing – when they’re sick? Sig shares a commiserating look with him when he hands over all the extra bits and pieces Ed needs to maintain the blade. And in keeping with the theme – had they collaborated? – Al got him a book about the few Xerxesian alchemists that history remembers with a handwritten note inside that says ‘you can tell me all the things they got wrong – love, Al’.

Hughes got him a photo album half filled with pictures of Ed and Al and the people they know, with space left over for more, and Gracia added a pile of blank journals to the gift, which Ed definitely appreciates. The rest of Roy’s team all got him various books; a massive scientific treatise from Falman, a recent alchemist’s autobiography from Fuery, a fascinating obscure book about spiritual symbology in alchemy from Hawkeye, a book about the art of making fireworks from Breda. Havoc, on the other hand, had got him a swear-jar. Which sends Ed into hysterics.

Then Roy’s sister – Vanessa – hands over a small, prettily-wrapped package, and Ed splutters a little about how she didn’t have to, he doesn’t even know her, what the hell. She just laughs at him. “I insist. Auntie Chris insisted. At least as a thank you for making Roy’s work stories so much more interesting.”

“Oh, well, um, okay then, I guess?” Ed says, and sets to opening the packet. It turns out to be a couple of pretty hair-clips. Nothing so ornate as to be mockingly ‘girly’, but whoever made them paid just as much attention to form as function. If he wears them day-to-day, he’s going to end up worrying about damaging them. Not that he ever does anything creative with his hair anyway, so it’s a bit moot.

Roy looks mortified, though, so that’s definitely a plus. And, in the spirit of winding him up as much as possible, Ed decides ‘fuck it’ and tugs the band off the end of his braid, shaking his hair out and tugging the top half back into the clip he likes the best. It’s a style he’d worn a lot when he was Proteus, one that Huang had always gotten distracted by when they were researching together. “Thanks!” He says brightly to Vanessa, who looks so gleeful Ed figures she’s caught on to his plot to torment Roy and approves.

“Alright, I suppose it’s my turn, is it?” Roy asks, resigned.

He slides a large square present out from where it had been leaning against the side-cabinet thing that Gracia keeps knick-knacks and Elysia’s toys in, and hands it to Ed over the table before stepping back. There’s an odd touch of apprehension about him, nothing obvious, just a stiffness in his pleasant expression that suggests it’s taking effort to keep it in place.

Ed lays the present on his lap and studies the shape of it. “It’s a picture-frame.” He decides after a moment of feeling the edges.

“The purpose of presents is to unwrap them, FullMetal.” Roy drawls.

“The purpose of giving presents is to shut up and be nice, Colonel Bastard.” Ed retorts, but he does tear into the wrapping paper, and peel the picture out of it. And then he freezes, heart racing and head spinning, because that- that’s him. Or well, technically, it’s her, when he was a her. He presses a hand to his mouth to stop himself blurting out something stupid, and just… stares.

It’s not the original, he can tell right away, but it’s an excellent reproduction. Ed-when-he-was-Lucia is sitting naked in an unmade – and very rumpled – bed dressed in off-white linens underneath a wide window letting in a spill of brilliant morning light that picks out the amber tones of Lucia’s tanned skin and the golden tones of her light brown hair, which is twisted up into a messy, careless bun pinned in place by a paintbrush, many loose strands curling about her neck and shoulders. There’s ink and graphite stains on her fingers and thighs, and love-bites dappled across her neck, chest, and wrists. She’s sitting sort of cross-legged, one knee tucked uselessly under the light sheet and the other propped up so that she can lean a notebook on it and scribble down her ideas.

Several people are asking what it is, and Havoc and Hughes and Hawkeye all shuffle around the back of the couch to peer at it over Ed’s shoulders. Havoc lets out an impressed wolf-whistle, while Hawkeye says, in a carefully neutral tone of Stern Disapproval; “That’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it, sir?”

Which, no. No, Ed’s not going to let that stand, because it’s not. The moment hadn’t even been sexual, except that they had just had lazy morning sex. But then Ed- Lucia had had an idea, and she’d flung herself out of Fiametta’s arms to find something to write it down with. Only then had she realised that she’d just abandoned her new lover without regard in favour of science, and she’d looked up expecting annoyance and exasperation, only to find Fiametta grinning and looking at her like she was the most perfect thing in the whole world. So Lucia had gone back to bed and settled in to write down her notes, and she’d gotten so absorbed she hadn’t even noticed Fiametta going for her sketchbook, and then her paints, until several hours later.

At which point she’d taken one look at the first attempt, and punched her in the arm for ‘making me look ridiculous, you complete sap’. The consequent versions had only gotten more ridiculous, because Fiametta had decided it was her purpose in life to wind Lucia up like that at every available opportunity.

It’s not inappropriate at all, except for the fact that Roy has no idea what he’s saying with this picture because he doesn’t know. Ed looks up at Teacher, the only one who gets it, and she raises an eyebrow at him, smug. ‘He doesn’t know he knows, but he does know.’ Ed thinks, and it’s… Good is something of an understatement.

Roy is fumbling for an explanation under Hawkeye’s stern stare, trying to play it off as a combination tasteless joke and attempt at winding Ed up, but Ed isn’t listening. He carefully leans the paining against the back of the couch and gets up. Roy’s faux-blasé defence trails off as Ed rounds the table, walks right into him, and hugs him tight. He’s in civilian dress, so it’s actually comfortable to hug him, and as Roy’s body-heat soaks through to him, Ed silently mourns the fact that he can’t just stay like this forever. “Thanks. I love it.” He says quietly.

“…You’re welcome.” Roy replies, just as quietly, carefully setting his hands on Ed’s back, not quite returning the hug, but something close to it.

“Huh.” Hughes says, in his scheming-voice. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Vittori, Edward.” He remarks lightly.

Teacher snorts.

“You shut up.” Ed grumbles at her, pointing in her direction without looking. He forces himself to let go of Roy before the hug becomes awkward, and turns to Hughes to try and explain his overly-emotional reaction to an indecent portrait of a long dead Aerugonian alchemist. “She did a good series on alchemy.” He states, crossing his arms defensively and feeling his face heat up.

“Hey, it’s okay, Boss. You’re at that age where-” Havoc begins, his tone gleefully mocking because he’s obviously a sadistic fuck.

“No. Nope.” Ed sticks his fingers in his ears. “LALALALALA!”

Ed is minding his own business, grabbing a quick lunch at a bakery a few streets away from the library, when out of fucking nowhere, Hughes slides into the seat opposite him with a cheerful “Hi, Ed!” and the sort of smile that makes Ed realise why most people find his grins a little unnerving.

“Uh, hi, Hughes.” He greets warily.

“Oh, please, Maes is fine.” Hughes – Maes – insists. “This is a social call.”

Ed gives him a dubious look. “Well it looks kind of like stalking.” He counters, and then takes a huge bite of his pasty. Maybe if he finishes quickly he can escape back into the library.

“That’s hurtful, Ed.” Maes protests, sounding entirely insincere. Ed makes an indistinct ‘mrmph’ noise around his mouthful. “I just wanted to know what your intentions are towards my best friend.” He announces, and although he’s definitely joking, tone jovial and eyes bright, there’s a thread of something a little more serious underneath.

Ed swallows hard, coughs a little, and then starts laughing. Because trust Maes Hughes to see that there’s more to Ed than a fifteen year old with a crush. “Well, I guess my intentions right now are to wait until he won’t have a panic attack if I jump him, and then jump him. Repeatedly. Preferably for the rest of our lives.” He answers, just as light-hearted as Maes, with just as much truth underneath.

Maes’s smile becomes a lot less sharp, softens into something that doesn’t make Ed want to flee to the safety of the library anymore. “How long a wait is that going to be?” He wonders, without any hint as to what he thinks the right answer is.

“Well, I had it from a reliable source when I was twelve that I’d be eligible for moderately respectable sex work in five years, so that’s only two more to go.” Ed replies lightly. Maes blinks at him for a moment, which isn’t the reaction Ed was expecting, but then he laughs. Cackles, really. “What’s funny?” He asks dubiously.

“Madame Christmas told you that, did she?” Maes asks pointedly.

Ed stares at him. “You…” He stops, and wonders if the synchronicity of his lives could get any more ridiculous. “Wait, let me guess. She’s got something to do with Roy, doesn’t she? Oh, that fucker.” He exclaims, eyes widening. “That’s how he knew to get me that painting! She fucking told him, didn’t she? Oh my fucking-!”

“Mm, yes. I think it was one of hers, originally. She likes to hang what she calls ‘dignified pornography’ on the walls of her upstairs business.” Maes confirms.

Ed whines and puts his head down on the table. “Next you’ll be telling me Roy grew up there or some shit.” He complains.

“As a matter of fact, he did.” Maes confirms, sounding intrigued, and Ed just groans, because, okay, he walked right into that one. “When she’s not working, she goes by Chris Mustang.” Maes adds, and at that, Ed sits up again.

“She’s Roy’s mum?”

“Biologically? His aunt. But she raised him ever since his parents died. So, yes, that’s who he means when he talks about his mother.” Maes explains. “But going back to that painting, Ed.” He goes on abruptly.

Ed huffs, going a little pink. “What about it?”

“I had a long chat with the Madame after your birthday. You said some very interesting things in between being very, very cryptic, and bringing up conversations you never actually had with Roy about old Aerugonian painters.” Maes states, resting his forearms on the table as he leans in and watches Ed with a pointedly patient expression.

Ed narrows his eyes. “We did too talk about renaissance painters.”

“Yes, but not Vittori.” Maes stresses. “And nice dodge, by the way.”

“Well, I was talking about Vittori, and he got the story right, so it’s not my fault if he didn’t realise, and only got it right because he’s that much like a perverted lesbian hedonist from the fifteenth century.” Ed retorts. “And I didn’t dodge shit. I just addressed the only point you actually made.”

Maes snorts, and leans back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re going to be very good for Roy, you know, when he manages to pull his head out of his ass. He needs someone like you in his life to keep him honest, keep him from twisting himself up into contortions with all the games he likes to play.”

Ed eyes him for a long moment, because, hell, but that was a good summary of at least one of his lives in its entirety. The Xingese royal court was a pit of vipers. “Yeah.” He agrees shortly, but apparently even that is enough to put that worrying gleam of curiosity into Maes’s eyes again. This time it’s totally a dodge, and Ed doesn’t even care, when he says; “So, what were those interesting things you wanted to interrogate me about?”

“Oh, you know…” Maes says, with entirely and obviously feigned nonchalance. “Treason.”

Ed snorts. “Yeah? Is this you delivering Roy’s official pitch?”

“No, Ed. This is me asking how the hell you even knew there was a pitch.” Maes sighs, no longer light-hearted at all. He’s watching Ed carefully, worried, and it makes Ed feel bad. He hadn’t meant to make Maes paranoid about discovery. But of course, if a teenage wildcard like him could figure it out, anyone who didn’t know that the knowledge came from lifetimes of experience with Roy and his masks and his stupid doublespeak bullshit and his penchant for self-sacrificial righteousness would be forgiven for assuming that one of the Generals, or the Fuhrer himself, might be able to see it, too.

Ed could lie, or dodge again, or something, but he doesn’t want to make Maes’s life harder than it has to be. He’s a good friend to Roy, and he’s been a good friend to Ed, too, so far. “I bet you looked into Valentino’s Bar, huh?” He asks.

Maes narrows his eyes, but plays along. “What do you take me for, Ed? Of course I did. Headquarters for one of the most successful Aerugonian resistance forces this side of the border in a hundred years before they blew the place up. I looked into this Malka person you mentioned too. And believe me, I’m dying to know what a border scuffle and a mullah from eighty years ago have to do with Roy, but I’d like to know about the treason thing first.”

“Valentino’s Bar.” Ed holds up his hand, and then ticks each point off on his fingers as he goes. “The Wolfsbane killings. Knyazhna Tatiana Nikiforova. The assassination of General Maultier. The Riviere Traders. The first Xingese Empress.” Ed pauses. “I think that’s… No, wait, you can probably count the Second Drachman Revolution, too, really, although you may have to dig pretty deep to figure that one out.”

“I recognise a few of those.” Maes acknowledges.

Ed nods emphatically, as though it must be obvious even though he knows Maes probably won’t understand. “That’s how I knew. I don’t think anyone else has made the connections, though, so you don’t need to panic.”

Maes stares at him for a long, long moment. “Challenge accepted.” He says finally.

Laughing, Ed shakes his head at him. “If anyone can figure it out, I’d put my money on you, Maes.” He offers, and Maes beams at him.

“Your faith in me is heartwarming, Ed. Almost as heartwarming as my beautiful daughter!” Maes enthuses, and Ed resigns himself to watching the man parade out a stream of photographs of Elysia. At least, since he’s not required to say more than ‘aww’ and ‘wow’ every now and then, he actually has a chance finish his pasty.

This goes on until Ed’s almost finished eating, and then Maes, with well practised insincerity, checks his watch and says; “Oops! Looks like my lunch break is over!” And sweeps all of his photos back into his pocket and stands up while Ed is still chewing on his last bite. “See you later, Ed.”

“Mrmph.” Ed says again, nodding.

Maes chuckles. “And, one last thing, Ed?” He says, pausing on his way past Ed’s chair. Ed looks up at him with his eyebrows raised, and Maes hands him a little folded up piece of paper. “Don’t wait too long. Roy will keep you at arms length forever if you let him, because he’s got a martyr complex the size of the Eastern Desert. We’re working on him, but he could do with a reminder from you that you’re older than you look.”

Then he’s gone, and Ed’s left staring at empty space in confusion. If he’s translating Maes-speak right, that was a ‘well, I think you should jump him now’. He looks down at the paper in his hand and unfolds it, only to find nothing but an address written there, and he’d bet his other arm and leg that it’s Roy’s. Maes is an interfering matchmaker, and Ed doesn’t know whether to be pissed off or grateful.

Ed decides Maes’ gift is too good to let it go to waste, so the next time he’s back in East, he breaks into Roy’s house while the man’s still at work and makes himself at home. When Ed had told Al his plan, Al had given him one of those inexplicably readable looks of his where he’s judging every single one of Ed’s life choices in every single one of his lives, and then he sighed and wished him luck, which is why Al is best little brother in the whole wide world.

When Roy gets back, Ed is happily ensconced in Roy’s living room with half the books from Roy’s personal library spread out around him, a fire blazing in the grate, a ridiculously snug blanket over his shoulders, and a mug of some weird fancy tea at his elbow. Roy, of course, comes in warily, prepared for an intruder, fingers poised to snap, and stops dead in the doorway, staring. “FullMetal?”

“Hey, Bastard.” Ed will call Roy ‘Roy’ to his face when Roy calls him ‘Edward’ again. “Shut the damn door, you’re letting all the heat out.”

Roy is so off-balance that he actually does as he’s told. Ed will have to remember that trick. Then he returns and goes right back to staring. “How did you get in?”

“Transmuted the lock, obviously.” Ed informs him. “I can show you how to alchemically booby-trap your locks later, if you like.”

Roy sighs in long-suffering exasperation. “How did you even know where I live?”

“How did you even know I’m a fan of Vittori?” Ed retorts.

“Touché.” Roy admits, and then just stands there, staring in bewilderment.

Ed glances up from his book at last, and gives the man a judging look. “Well don’t just stand there like an idiot, idiot. Go order some take-out and then come explain to me why the hell you have bullshit like Dee’s Hierarchy of Elements on your shelf.”

“FullMetal…”

“Food, Bastard.” Ed insists.

Sighing again like the melodramatic bastard he is, Roy goes to call for take-out. While he’s doing that, Ed clears a space for him on the couch, shifting books he’d left lying open beside him when he got caught up in something else. Roy comes back, eyes the newly open space, and then gingerly seats himself. “FullMetal.” He says again.

“I’d say ‘that’s my name, Bastard, don’t wear it out’ except, you know, it’s not.” Ed says pointedly.

Another sigh. “What are you doing?”

“Investigating your personal book collection.” Ed replies immediately. “It’s not half bad, honestly. Although, seriously, what’s with Dee’s shit? His theories were debunked decades ago.”

“Most of his theories were debunked.” Roy counters, and the next half hour is full of good-natured bickering and alchemical debate. Then the food arrives, and the next hour passes by the same way, except now with really good food, too. The conversation takes a slightly darker turn as they dive into discussing human transmutation, biological alchemy, soul alchemy, and the difference between them, but even then, Ed feels more hopeful about his quest than he has in a while now, revved up with new determination because Roy might not have as much knowledge as Ed on the subject, but he’s painfully insightful, and so good at coming up with the things Ed’s missed.

Shit, but Ed loves him.

And it must be written all over his face because Roy falters in what he’s saying, in whatever argument he was making, and his expression turns conflicted and uncertain. Ed hates it. “Don’t.” Ed says, before Roy can say anything. Roy closes his mouth, but doesn’t look any less pained.

“Edward…” He says, half chiding, half pleading.

“Roy.” Ed returns, wry. Roy sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s okay, you know.”

“You’re half my age.” Roy retorts, sounding agonised.

He’s not exactly wrong, even if he’s not exactly right, either. Ed sighs, and looks down at the blanket that’s now draped over both of them. He picks at the edge of it with his automail hand. “Yeah. Why d’you think I haven’t actually made a move on you yet?”

Roy huffs a weird little half-laugh at that. “This isn’t you making a move?” He asks dryly.

Ed snorts. “Believe me, bastard, when I make a move on you, you’ll fucking know about it.”

“Literally, I suppose.” Roy muses wickedly, and then winces. “Sorry, that was-”

“If you say inappropriate, I’m gonna hit you.” Ed warns him, holding up his flesh hand in a fist in warning. Roy very pointedly presses his lips together and doesn’t say a word. “Cause it isn’t inappropriate, it’s fucking true. But I’m not stupid, you know. I do get that you’d feel kind of skeevy if we did anything yet, so- so I’m waiting. That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend that there’s even the slightest fucking chance I’d pick anyone else in the world but you.”

Roy’s eyes go wide, and then he closes them. He leans in, and for a moment Ed thinks he’s going to kiss him, but instead he just leans their foreheads together. “You can’t know that for sure.” He whispers, sounding like it hurts to say it.

“I can.” Ed insists. “I do.”

“I know you’ve seen more of the world than most people your age, and I know that- that there’s more to you than just a fifteen year old hellion, but you shouldn’t tie yourself to me before you’ve had a chance to- to explore, and-”

“Idiot.” Ed huffs.

“I’m serious, Edward-”

“I know you are, Roy, that’s why you’re an idiot.” Roy pulls back to frown at him, and Ed wonders if Teacher is right, if he should tell him the whole truth. They’ve already been talking about souls half the evening, after all. But Ed… Ed isn’t quite ready to put himself that far out there when Roy is still battling his fucking conscience. It would feel… manipulative, or some shit. “Can I tell you a story?” He asks, instead.

“Can I stop you?” Roy answers wearily, but he’s smiling fondly, so Ed figures that’s not a no.

“Nope.” Ed squirms around until he’s comfortably leaning on Roy, and Roy hesitates only a moment before curling his arm around Ed’s shoulders. “Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a boy.” Ed begins, measuring out the words.

“A fairytale?” Roy wonders, sounding startled.

“Yeah, sort of.” Ed hedges, because no, it’s not, it’s his life – their lives – but he’s not going to tell Roy that just yet. “Anyway, so this boy, he had real shit luck. Like, the shittiest. His parents died in a landslide when he was four, and not even a year later, he got nabbed by fucking slavers and carted off into the desert to be sold to some rich asshole who thought he was hot shit and that it somehow made him look good to have a tiny ‘exotic’ little boy serving drinks at his stupid parties, and not like a complete shit-stain.”

“That does sound unfortunate.” Roy comments, sounding confused.

“Yeah, but this kid, right, this kid was resilient, and clever. He made this plan. Cause, see, in Xerxes-”

“Oh, is that where this is set?”

“Yeah, shut up. In Xerxes, academia was everything. If you were smart, if you could make a valuable contribution to the Great Library, you could earn your way up to the top, even if you started out a slave. Even if you weren’t Xerxesian by birth. So that’s what he decided to do.” Ed pauses, thinking back and trying to sort an entire lifetime into something he could tell Roy and have it make sense. “One day, when he was out running errands or some shit, this slave just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see this building – one of the big manors for the Savants – collapse.”

“Savants?” Roy questions.

“It’s the best translation of the title. Like I said, the heirarchy in Xerxes was about academia, not the military, or inheritance, or anything like that. They were people who- who fucking revolutionised knowledge in whatever field of study. Being recognised as a Savant was, I don’t fucking know, like being a General, I guess, here. You’re powerful, and people kinda have to listen to you, and you get lots of perks and rewards and shit. There were also teachers and shit, Professors or whatever, which was basically one step sideways, not quite parallel, but… the State Alchemists, sort of?”

“I see.” Roy says, sounding a little bewildered. “So… so this manor collapsed?” He prompts.

“Yeah, and this boy- Well, he was a teenager, by today’s standards-”

“Today’s standards?”

“In Xerxes you were considered a child until you were twenty-five, on average.” Ed explains impatiently. “When you completed the standard education and could choose a speciality. Anyway-” Ed presses when it looks like Roy’s about to ask more questions. “So, this boy recognised an alchemical reaction when he saw one, and managed to pinpoint the source in amongst the rubble.”

“Who did he find?” Roy asks, which at least isn’t a distracting question.

“This kid. Nine years old, half crushed by rubble. His entire right arm was so much mush. He’d been being an idiot, trying to get his super-clever Savant grandmother to pay attention to him, and his circle had backfired on him and brought the whole house down. And this slave kid pushed this massive piece of masonry out of the way with one shoulder and grabbed the other kid with the other hand and just hauled him out of the mess he’d turned his entire life into. Carried him to the healers. Went right back and dug out the kid’s cousin. His grandmother was already dead, but if it hadn’t been for that slave, his cousin would have died before anyone got around to getting him out.”

“Edward…” Roy says slowly.

“I’m not finished, bastard, let me finish.” Ed retorts. Roy nods silently, so Ed forges on. “So this kid, this dumbass kid who destroyed his entire life all by himself because he couldn’t appreciate what he had when his dad was gone and his mum was dead, knew that he had to pay back this slave for saving him and his cousin. So he went and found him and taught him everything he knew, everything he got to learn just because he was born to an educated family. They studied together for years, ended up fucking revolutionising alchemy. Heh. The slave was elevated to Savant because he figured out that water is actually combustible if you pull it apart.”

“Is it really?” Roy asks, smirking. “I had no idea.”

Ed cackles. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I assume the other boy became a Savant, too?” Roy questions, giving Ed a soft look under faintly furrowed brows. Like he’s figured out Ed’s talking about them but still isn’t sure what the point is. Jokes on him, because that is the point.

“Yeah. He figured out some really cool architectural tricks. There’s so much cool shit you can do with rocks and sand if you really pay attention to the molecular structure. Like fixing fault-lines in otherwise apparently solid stone.” Ed explains with a grimace. Roy tugs him a little closer.

“I take it the boy’s cousin did recover, too?” Roy asks gently.

“Yeah.” Ed confirms. He knows Roy thinks he’s talking about Al, even though he’s not. Lyco hadn’t been much like Al, really. He’d been a daydreamer, kind but absent-minded, and he didn’t understand people at all, not the way Al did. Ed had loved him just as much, though. “Xerxes was pretty good with healing alchemy, so he got better eventually. And eventually, these two dumbasses got around to admitting that somewhere between the heroics and the research and the awards, they’d fallen in love. It didn’t really change that much, though, they still bickered over theories and played with alchemy together and spent most of their time side by side in the library. It was just that when they went home, they went to the same place, and sometimes they had sex, which was pretty fun.”

Roy makes a sound that’s trying to be a laugh, but is a little too strangled to manage. “I think I see your point, Edward-”

“Still not finished, bastard.” Ed interrupts. “So they got married, and eventually they got asked to tutor the royal children. Which, in case you can’t figure it out, was one of the very highest honours a person could be awarded in Xerxes. They probably couldn’t really have said no without being, like, shunned or something, but it didn’t really matter because… because they really enjoyed it. Not just teaching, which was frustrating as all hell but entirely worth it, but teaching those kids. They were hellraisers, don’t get me wrong, but they were so good, too. Getting to help them discover themselves? Discover the amazing things they could accomplish? Those two stupid boys loved that a whole hell of a lot. Queen Aesara was one of Xerxes most beloved rulers, and they were so proud of her.” Ed pauses, and collects himself. “And they lived happily ever after for the rest of their days or whatever shit. There, now I’m done.”

They sit in silence for a while. Ed doesn’t mind, although he’s a bit restless. “Is that the sort of thing you want from your future, then?” Roy asks eventually. “Teaching?”

“Eh.” Ed shrugs and tries to explain. “Maybe? But there’s lots of things I could do once I’ve fixed my fuck up and Al’s okay. Lots of fulfilling paths to take or whatever. Could teach. Could do research. Could become a doctor. Could open a restaurant. Could go into fucking journalism. Lots of ways to do good in the world. My point is… it’ll be better with you there. I want that. And I think you want that, too. To do whatever we end up doing together.”

He hears Roy swallow, and then let out a breath that shakes. “Yes, Edward. I want that, too.” He agrees. His arm tightens momentarily around Ed’s shoulders, and his head tips to lean his cheek against the top of Ed’s head, and then he turns so he can press an achingly gentle kiss to Ed’s hair. Ed turns into Roy and hides his smile against the man’s shoulder.

[the-blueberry-jellyfish]

Random Klovnie Facts🤡💙

Under a cut bc there's a lot lmao😂💙

--contains talk of cannibalism, killing, dead things in general, and stuff under that umbrella. Don't read if it makes you uncozy💖 He’s a very nappy man.

•He's 6'11" and then wears heels too lol.

•He always been fascinated with dead things. Since he was teeny clown bby. (It has nothing to do with how he was raised. I mean. His dad absolutely hated/hates it lmao.) But yeAH. He would run off and go find animal carcasses and stuff and freaking. Like. Open 'em up and check 'em out 😂 and freaking play with them and shit 😂 Even now as an adult, he often can't stop himself from just. Diving into his victim's body and checking out their organs. Organs and stuff really interest him, okay? They're coOL😂 He just loves to split people open and shove his face in their organs lmao. Motorboat them.

•As a child he had a small pet that was a bird-ish type creature. One day he just mcfuckin' ate it. His mom didn't let him get another pet after that. 😂

•He likes to paint his nails, so he will on occasion, but like. Only if the polish is made up of weird concoctions of things lol. So he makes his own. He's also prone to adding venom or bug bits to his nail polish.

•He likes glitter, especially the big chunky kind with the big shapes in it. That stuff is 👌👌👌👌 and he likes to throw it on people.

•He doesn't take much seriously and would be the type to tell you a shitty knock-knock joke with his dying breath 😂

•HE ALSO REALLY LIKES BAGS. OKAY. He has an ever-growing bag collection and if any of his victims have bags of any kind on them when they die, then he haS TO HAVE THAT BAG TOO.

•His family's circus does really well, despite it now having a connection to assassins. That helps it, actually lmao. The crowds always massively influx when he and Klaunie return for a show.

•His immediate family consists of his parents, an older sibling, Klaunie, and then a younger brother that very much looks up to him and Klaunie.

•He hums and sings a lot. He's got a decent enough voice, but he's super bad at memorizing lyrics, for whatever reason. So he tends to make up his own.

•His first dip into cannibalism was when he was whatever the icejin equivalent of 15/16 is. There was always the curiosity, but never really the opportunity. But one day his older sibling was in an accident and Klovnie was found eating pieces off their wound. So that's fun c: The older sibling carries resentment about it, along with their permanent scarring.

•I mentioned on the post that he just signs his name as a star. He also expects people to read the star as... his name. As if... the drawing of the star spells his name. Because obviously this ⭐️ is pronounced as "Klovnie" lmao.

•One side of Tuesday Night Cherrypop Supreme has spikes, and the other side is flat and has a big smiley face with stars for eyes. He takes her everywhere with him. As much as he loves blood and guts and whatnot, he can't stand to leave any mess on his precious mallet lol. She's promptly cleaned after every killing because it's what she deserves 👏👏👏👏👏👏

•He claims to not have a favorite color lol. He likes how things look in relation to one another, and thus, cannot pick a favorite. He def doesn’t like brown and stark white, though.

•He likes taking pictures, so his life is very well documented lmao. He always gets them printed off and has a bunch of scrapbooking stuff, but he's... never actually put any scrapbooks together. 😂 It just never happens bc as much as he wants the finished product, he has absolutely no desire to spend time on them. He'd much rather paint or sculpt with his time.

•His opinion on the icejin royal family is as follows: He thinks they'd be really nice wall decorations and he bets that they taste extra delicious. 😂👏✨

•Sometimes he's goes into a freaking shutdown crazy mode when killing someone and ends up completely smashing them far beyond recognition as a once-living being 😂 Which then just makes him sad because it's wasted material 😭 But then he gets to eat fistfuls of raw icejin meat with his hands like a gremlin, so that’s good.

•He usually does his clown makeup even when he isn't wearing a clown outfit. He feels like it's a part of hiM and so he wants it on alllll the time. The dark, curved lines that go from the corners of his mouth, up past his eyes are his natural cheek marks though.

•He's very good at acrobatics and he's super flexible (bc he’s an acrobat in the circus lmao). He's also prone to just. Flipping. 😂 Like... Oh man, that milkshake tasted really good??? That means he's gotta do a front flip. It's law. Klovnie law.

•He keeps his glitter on him as all times. How else would he be able to throw it at people whenever he wanted? 😂 But where does he keep it? Where does it come from? We just don't know. The same logic is applied to his good hoNKHONK clown horn, which also comes from and returns to somewhere that is seemingly nonexistent😂

•The only people he eats are icejins. He sampled another race once and felt it just wasn't the same🤔

•He's strictly interested super freaky people/things and people that are just completely off their rocker. He finds everyday average people to be boring and unattractive. And, um... if he kills someone that he finds attractive, he keeps the taxidermied (? lol) people in his room to admire lmao.

•He has zero self-preservation instincts and commonly goes barreling into situations that are dangerous/he knows nothing about. He lives on the edge and his biggest goal in life is to have fun. He doesn't fear death in the slightest.

•He would be completely lost without Klaunie. She's always been a part of his life (obviously) and he legitimately wouldn't know what to do with himself without her. He would absolutely lose his mind and die a very violent death shortly after.

•He's a giggly little bitch and laughs a ton, regardless of whether or not it's appropriate for the situation. He's laughs when he's happy, excited, working, mad, sad, it doesn't matter.

•But speaking of, it's very hard to actually upset him. Insults don't affect him at all, passive aggression and poor attitudes don't get to him, and he doesn't care about any awful thing the person's done.

•Howeverrrrrr... a man once called Klaunie something derogatory and he was promptly eaten alive by Klovnie.

[sugar-petals]

Omg I love your writing style so much ❤️ It always hits in the right places 😏 As I see you have requests open may I ask for historical AU with Taehyung being a nobleman son and his and reader's wedding night when they never (or barely) saw each other before a wedding? You know they don't know each other but they have to do it 😩 If you don't feel like writing this anything else with Tae will be fine with me 😉

My Word To Treat You Well [M]

length | 3.5kgenre | angst, soft smut, enemies to lovers, fluffy endnote | The other members are side & main characters!warnings | bullying, homophobia, child abuse, evil kings… doing evil things 

Appalling. Twenty or more people would offer you a hundred bucks to know whether Prince Taehyung was good in bed or not. 

Probably to sell the juicy secret to The Daegu Herald or Gyeongsang Sentinel for twice the money. You’d get extra pay for revealing what he was into. Meanwhile, you yourself wondered about that. The cash went past your gloved hands under mid-July’s oppressive evening heat, waiting for the crowds to disperse with your relatives departing, too. The tedious diplomatic talks, over-the-top banquets, shrill music, and painful dances were over. Familiar stars shed soft lights on the rattling carriages that headed north from the Kim Palace. That was the only thing good about this day. It was hard knowing Ilsan was so far away. You mother, widowed Queen Choi, had left you with a plea to all the strength you possibly have. And she must know how it is. 

You were looking forward to throwing your heeled shoes into the palace pond, not fucking the Crown Prince. He had been acting arrogant with his friends all day, tripping waiters. In fact, you thought he was Daegu’s number one blockhead. Next to his unruly partner in crime: Yoongi from the local Min family. He loved to harass and mock the elderly guests while Taehyung laughed along. The Min clan wears their blue emblem with such a toxic haughtiness, even Prince “Phony” Jimin of Busan wouldn’t compare. Thankfully, the latter had remained absent today and didn’t make things worse. Because that Min guy was already prickly, a textbook bad influence to Taehyung. The kiss in front of the altar had been enjoyable, that was true. He didn’t smell, he didn’t use tongue or teeth, he kept it short and smiled courteously. The Prince was attractive and well-dressed, sure. That was good enough down the aisle. He wouldn’t start too many dances either. But Kim had soaked up the aristocratic mannerism so much, at the ball it felt like he wanted to own this place. Which he didn’t. Namjoon was still the one in charge in both this province and the palace. It seemed like the Kim patriarch’s iron rule had raised a glaring thorn in his crown. And you had to deal with him now: In bed. It’s a cruel world.

Prince Taehyung comes waddling along the marble corridor with relative unease. He seems aimless, maybe drunk. Prince Prick is not with him. They had been glued together the entire day, more than you were supposed to spend time with Taehyung instead. On the one hand, protocol breach would cause atrocious chatter. On the other hand, having Taehyung off the hem of your hanbok frankly was congenial. Maybe Yoongi was quite a convenient figure on this chess board. You’d keep that in mind. Waiting for Taehyung to arrive was awkward enough. But as he just stood there blank-faced like a statue for a solid minute, you took the liberty to just drag him to your chamber by the lapel. What a huge moron. He lands on the canopy bed quite frightened, but it leaves you cold. “Let’s just get it over with,” you tower at the lower end of the bed, “you whip your cock out, shove it in three times, dump your jizz so Daegu gets an heir, and we’ll go to bed. Me, I’ll just pretend I’m dead.” 

Taehyung looks even more flabbergasted. You don’t know if it was the language or the directness. Probably both. You let yourself fall right next to him, kicking off the nasty restrictive shoes. The chambermaids had at least managed to remove your bride headpiece and the ridiculous, scratchy ceremonial wig. It was one of the major reasons why you hated marrying in summer. They also fidgeted at your head to wipe off the goo that was supposed to be face paint before you snapped and sent them away. They should enjoy the evening and not bother with your oh-so costly attire that was only designed to trouble you anyways. It didn’t even look as beautiful and regal as what Taehyung had worn. He was all the rage while people slandered you the second you were out of sight as your mother had remarked. It was just important that he was married. It preserved the patrilineage and elevated his status, not you as the wife and new member of the family. The future Queen of Daegu, in fact. But they didn’t seem to respect that.

That way, they had “decorated” you. Criticizing all sorts of things about your appearance. Nobody in Ilsan had bothered, thought something was not right or good-looking. Nor did you. Queen Choi had insisted beauty was not a female ruler’s most important asset. It was power, plain and simple. That is what rulership is about. She warned you that the house of Kim had more double standards. You yourself didn’t think making a Princess less confident and secure in herself was particularly benevolent. Nose too long, hands too broad, voice too loud, height too tall, hair too coarse, eyes to narrow, skin too tan, hips not wide enough for having kids? All they wanted was a weak, pregnant fairy glued to Taehyung’s side by day. And a mute fuckdoll to keep his dick wet by night. You weren’t wrong saying you would play dead. That is how passive they wanted you to be here. And as anxious and self-conscious as possible, that no deeper thought about this rotten palace would ever cross your mind. “My ears are too ugly for me to have authority!” thought no king ever. 

You undress ripping away the satin, pearls, embroidered sticks, emeralds, ribbons. All the layers of hanbok have to go. They land on the floor while Taehyung remains dumbfounded. Once the work is done, you’re in the underwear that’s been itching and sweaty all day. You lift the blanket, then roll your eyes at the Prince. “I’m kidding. Move, I want to sleep. Everything hurts.” You’re about to blow out the candle on your nightstand that Taehyung finds his words. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I had hoped you had fun with us today.” He looks depressed now. “It’s arranged, this is not cloud nine,” you reply, “Good night, I don’t need your fake concerns.” Taehyung jumps up from the bed. “At least put on something comfortable, Princess,” he points to the showy wardrobe left to the entrance. “You just wanna see me naked to jack off while I sleep,” you growl, pulling the blanket tight over your chest. Taehyung rummages in the wardrobe, then tosses over a plain, long nightshirt. “I’ll go to the other chamber until you open.”

And indeed, he slips into the adjacent dressing room and closes the door shut. He turns the key, flicks it into your boudoir underneath the door. You quickly change into the green gown in a dark corner. It’s light and cooling. You tiptoe across the room and yank open the door after you unlocked, suspecting to catch Taehyung while he eavesdrops or looks through the keyhole. But no, he’s sitting at the window in a chair watching the night sky, startled at the vehement entrance. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he whines, pale and daunted in the moonlight. “Nothing,” you snarl and return to bed. He just follows reluctantly. Where did insolent Prince Taehyung go? It has to be another joke or farce. He had entertained everyone with offensive shenanigans all day. 

You curl yourself together at the farthest possible point from him as he comes to lay down. Soon, some of his warmth sneaks across underneath the blanket. Disgusting. The topmost dipshit of Daegu is in the same bed as you. That alone makes you want to puke. On Namjoon’s throne, at best. He raised the scum. For a while, everything remains silent. But the heat, moonlight, and his breath won’t let you sleep, let alone his mere presence. Who knows what he does to you when you don’t pay attention any longer. You would be glad to pass the night without getting groped at least once. After what felt like hours, you just wind back and forth. At some point, you accidentally ram him hard in the flank with your elbow. The following whimper sounds so horrifying that you jolt up in a cold sweat. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” he trembles, holding his ribs in pain. Serves him right. “I didn’t want this either. He beats me already. Please don’t hurt me, please!” He’s almost bawling. You’re quite impressed by these acting skills. “Calm it Kim, I was just trying to turn around. Can’t sleep, thank you very much.” - “Me either… I’m very sorry!” Now you bellow at him. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry all the time. Are you no longer mean or what?” Taehyung looks like he might as well wet himself any second. The guards might have heard, but you’d be happy to get thrown into a cold jail cell. “Y/N, if I’m not acting like that I’ll get hit,” he answers, pulling down the impossibly high neckline of his gown. 

Oh.

Fuck. 

Green and blue marks — everywhere. One above the solar plexus looks new. Taehyung notices you staring at it. “He did it so I would promise to be tough with you tonight,” he says, covering his chest once the shame becomes too unbearable. “It’s really all an act?” - “It’s how everyone here does it, it’s normal. But we shouldn’t speak about it…” - “And Yoongi? Jimin?” - “They’re not like that when we’re alone,” he affirms, “it’s all to play along. Jimin got shoved down the stairs by his dad last week. He broke his leg just because he refused to marry an unknown woman. Yoongi’s dad threatened to do the same. All three of us have to marry this year, it’s protocol. Jimin got denied medical attention by King Park. That’s why he’s not here.” 

Now you get why Taehyung showed up dizzy and shut down after you grabbed at his suit. The dressing room reaction was similar. He’s not drunk, or anything like that. The King just gave him a heavy disciplining minutes before he appeared in the corridor. And Jimin — there’s no way the life of the party would stay at home without something this severe going on. It’s Prince Taehyung’s wedding, after all, the event of the year. They really pushed him down the stairs. You can’t believe it. He could be dead by now. The southern royals are as fucked up as you suspected, just in a way that’s… ten times worse than you’ve seen at the ball. 

There’s a legitimate reason as to why you thought they were all completely unlike themselves. It really is a tragedy behind the scenes. You enclose Taehyung in a caring hug while he’s crying his eyes out, your nightgown soaking it all up. “I have to apologize, too,” you soothe while he hangs feebly in your embrace. The tears slowly disappear after you’re petting his hair, mumbling excuses. His body feels slack and empty. You suggest going outside to visit the small palace garden. Walking through the solemn corridors barefoot, hands intertwined, it feels much closer to how you wished your day should have been like. The guards at the main gate appear quite surprised to see you walk around at such a late time. But both stand tall with a nod and the obligatory congratulations as you state the destination. Taehyung hides his swollen eyes behind his bangs as you inform them. They let you pass without resistance. 

You seat your husband on the edge of the central fountain. The surrounding roses, hydrangea, and dahlia flower beds emit a tranquilizing haze, along with the bubbling water and warm summer breeze. Your throbbing headache says goodbye. Walking on the tingly grass is a welcome relief, too. There are no clouds above you, the sky is lucid. The Prince looks up sighing deeply. “Taehyung, you like the stars, too?” He nods. You point out your favorite constellations to each other. Boötes, Virgo, Scorpius. Cassiopeia, too, she’s among the easiest to spot. Taeyhung looks handsome and frail in the tender moonshine. He’s really a beautiful man, rivaling the stars. Or complementing them. You pluck a cream white rose for him to hold, and he is careful with the thorns. “That’s for scaring you.” You pick another, coral red. “For the elbow accident.” A third one is bright orange and yellow. “To heal your chest.” You lean close to his face for the fourth flower – your mouth brushing over the bridge of his nose, then uniting your lips. “And this, Prince Kim, is my word to treat you well.”

Back in bed, you’ve cast away the heavy blanket and gowns. The clear moonlight has come to serve as an advantage now. Taehyung’s head is buried between your legs, tongue curling up and down gently. His large hands cup at your hips with fondness. You’re mindful not to put pressure on his upper body while you’re above him, facing his feet. His chest looks times worse than what you’ve seen when he first showed it. There are thin scars on his legs, too. You hope that every kiss mends them just a little bit, even if it’s just inside his heart. Taehyung tastes balmy and mellow when you circle your tongue around his length. It’s fun to plant your lips on his tip to sink down swaying right and left with your head, feeling his serpentine veins brush past the corners of your mouth. That’s a dick you’ll keep wet three times a day when the mood is right. He’s magnificent, better than all the savory cakes from the buffet. You regret having rejected a bath in your imperious fury earlier, now feeling ready to earn the title: Most obnoxious and smelling Crown Princess that the kingdom has ever seen. But Taehyung doesn’t care one bit, indulging you with graceful little flicks and dips at your clit. It’s so amazing. Maybe you’re not as malodorous and unbearable as you think. Because you’re comparing yourself to the sky-high golden standards of Taehyung. Which is probably what Namjoon’s mind control aims for. Then you will indeed think you’re just a meaningless fairy puppet by sheer comparison. That, you realize, is something to cast away. Taehyung is Taehyung, a wonderful delicate person and spouse. You are you. Queen Choi’s most unyielding daughter, to-be sovereign among her ranks of power, and impending defender of the Prince to install justice. Namjoon will pay for every mark he left. 

After sunrise, you already have to confront a perverse mob of “two hundred bucks? three hundred bucks?” fanatics led by chief servant Hoseok. You command them to rather spend the money on sending Prince Park a proper doctor. They swallow the bait, pester for details. You know better not to get hanged for treason on your first day as Princess of Daegu. Instead, you send them off with a trusted contact’s name at Park Palace, knowing they will not stop until they discover the truth. If they can expose the secret on their own, they’ll think they’ve invented it. And then comes the craving for big money, and more investigation. Especially the Daegu Herald is predictable in that regard. You hope the story blows up. Someone has to take care of Jimin. Maybe you should send a letter.

The throne room is the next obstacle. You’re glad there was no breakfast yet so you are maximum ill-tempered. A heavily bearded King thrones golden at the very end, and almost loses his crown when you enter without bowing, still in your plain dress. But he catches himself – back to the fake smile, fake words, fake posture. “Ah, this is what I call a regal sense of duty. A good early morning!” he says jovially. His own father must have slapped him into this demeanor. They’re all despicable. This is the generation where it ends. “The whole palace talks about your tryst. Everyone is impressed by the Rose Prince! Truly a man. Making such romantic gestures.” You’re angry that someone watched and couldn’t keep it to themselves. But then again, the palace harbored many guests tonight that had been equally restless and curious. The garden is public anyways, and visible through many windows. But it seems like everybody had twisted the story around and pretends you’re not even part of it. “I’m not here to talk about that. I have a request, actually.” - “Oh sure Princess, go ahead?” Namjoon falls somber now. “I’m not happy with this situation,” you furrow your brow. “Just like I expected it to be,” he huffs into his beard, “Well, we can always nullify the marriage after a certain time. But that needs a special legal procedure and at least two produced infant heirs. I advise you to wait anyways. Taehyung will become a good man for you even if you don’t like him now.” This place is truly hell. Produce an infant heir. King Namjoon has lost his mind. You fortify your stance before the throne. “I wouldn’t divorce because of Taehyung. I would divorce because of you. I’ll take him back with me to Ilsan.”

“Because of me? You wouldn’t dare. I have organized the best wedding of the last fifty years. Kim Seokjin is not ready to become the Crown Prince yet! Taehyung is the heir. You have to be his Princess. The alliance with house Choi is important for trade, too.” - “All the reasons to leave. Without heirs. Just with Taehyung. From your words, I can tell he’s not as important to you as the lineage and your reputation. Nor am I.” The King looks like he is about to combust. He can’t hurt you. Taehyung needs kids and Daegu resources. “Choi, what do you want?” he bursts out, hammering his staff on the ground. “Stop beating Taehyung. And don’t treat me as secondary. That’s all I ask for.” - “But this is protocol!” - “Then why do you keep it hidden when it’s all fine and necessary?” There it is. The King is gritting his teeth hard. Who would have known the doll bride would have this much leverage. “I’ve sent a giant horde to Park Palace. If you don’t put King Park and King Min in their place and abolish the protocol, they will. If my mother comes to know about it, Ilsan and the Northern Kingdom ban trading gold, silver, spice, and silk. Say goodbye to your dynasty and alliances.” - “You’re lying…” - “Then wait and see. It’s the truth. The crowd just left. Jung Hoseok called in sick today, didn’t he? Guess why.” - “Stop, stop the crowd! We’ll revise the protocol all you want, just stop the crowd!” 

For five hundred bucks, Hoseok gets an in-depth story about the ‘Rose Princess’ garden tryst. With a lot of embellishments and inexplicable plot holes, but still immensely detailed. Two days after, even the notoriously stuck-up Gyeongsang Sentinel readers send you presents after Hoseok sold them the story for a fortune. The five hundred bucks you spend for the messenger on horseback who had raced to the neighbor province, calling back the wild mob headed to Busan. Instead of you having to write a letter, Crown Prince Jimin sends you one instead. His leg has received treatment by the kingdom’s most expensive doctor. His father begrudgingly appointed him. Jimin is delighted to marry his lover in October – the beloved childhood friend and son of Busan’s Grand Duchess, Jungkook. An adoption is already on its way. The public is nowhere near as enraged as Jimin’s father had dreaded. Jungkook is very popular for good looks and charm and already well-known as Jimin’s second half. Queen Park appears to be very excited, too, especially since lifting the protocol has impacted her beneficially. 

You’ll have to live with the fact that King Namjoon cares about grandchildren more than Taehyung’s less “tough” side or, well, you. That you hope will change with time. But he busies himself with Seokjin instead of you where his prospects fall on fertile ground, and Queen Kim keeps an eye on it. At least he is happy that Jimin’s marriage does take place and has decided for the family to travel to Busan in late September. Taehyung has developed a habit of walking in the park with you often in the meantime. Also, you meet with the citizens on the farmer’s market by horse. Huge masses of people gather to see and talk to you. Namjoon had security concerns and sent fifteen high-strung guards along. But Taehyung allowed them to stroll on the market (you called it “patrol”, tongue in cheek), keeping only the four that seemed not exhausted from being constantly yelled at by the King. It was about time anybody left the dusty walls of the palace. Many had only seen you in the drawings of herald papers and heard mostly peculiar stories save the garden one. After a pleasant afternoon you buy Taehyung fresh apples and tangerines, pick up the guards and ride towards the forest. There, you spend time with Yoongi who has earned your nickname of “Prince Perfect” after some initial misunderstandings. Together you practice arching or swim in the river, and discuss wedding presents that Jimin might like. You’re very happy with Taehyung who’s always watching you with a beaming smile, and glad that he’s able to wear normal necklines again. 

My, this was a great prompt as usual. Thank you historical Tae anon (I’ll just call you this way) for the request. Asks: Always welcome my sweet cubs 🐯 I love you. - Caro

[carolightpenvenys]

DON’T TELL THE BRIDE

My entry for @fuckyeahdwightcaroline‘s writer’s choice day... Enjoy and leave feedback x

Shoutout to @dismiss-your-fearsx for the inspo x

Before:

“On a scale of one to the three wheeled car you bought once because it was lonely, how bad is it?”

 Caroline winced, leaning her hand on her cheek as she leaned on the countertop of their pretty swanky apartment- not one of Dwight’s more rushed decisions.

Not that Caroline would ever let him choose an apartment without her.

“It’s pretty bad.” Dwight ran his hands through his hair, sat on the stool, staring blankly at his macbook.

Slowly he turned the macbook round so it faced Caroline and her hands, attempting to put her hair in a messy bun dropped instantly.

Dear “Dwgt ENys”

Regarding yours and “Caroline the moooost beautiful woman!!!!”’s application to Don’t Tell the Bride, we would like to tell you you have been successful! Congratulations! All contracts were signed in the terms and conditions and you can expect the camera crews at “our beautiful apartment!!” on Monday to film short profiles of you and  “Caroline the moooost beautiful woman!!!!”

Many thanks

The BBC Team

“Oh Dwight.” She breathed. “What the fuck have you done?”

The Dress:

“Do you know,” Ross sighed as they entered the wedding dress shop. “I thought I hit rock bottom in my life but never have I ever fucked up this bad.”

“Caroline is steaming.” Dwight shook his head. “I’ve got no clue what to do and she had a moodboard in the apartment. A bloody moodboard. I’ve also pissed off her family because they wanted to pay for everything.”

“Of course they did.”

“You know they tried to give BBC more than the regulated amount. Which is a little illegal.” “Excuse me.” The camera man butted in. “We can’t talk about unregulated subject matter while filming.”

“Ah yes.” Dwight grimaced. “What was the question?”

“How do you know Caroline’s perfect dress?”

Dwight gulped. “I don’t.” He smiled awkwardly. “I’m just going to have to wing it and hope for the best.”

“Just to let you know,” Ross spoke into the camera. “Caroline is not the kind of girl who would wear a dress then Dwight of all men bought on a whim.”

Dwight raised his eyebrows. “What are you saying about me? He knows no better.”

The cameraman cut the shot. “The viewers are going to love this banter. At first, I was concerned by your small number of groomsmen,”

“Just me.” Ross filled in.

“But I think,” the cameraman nodded. “You guys can carry this.”

“Thanks I guess.” Dwight furrowed his eyebrows, trying to work out if this was genuine or a pisstake. Almost as much as the pisstake of having to take his entire year’s holiday at once to plan this wedding.

They had to film the first conversation with the wedding shop assistant about seven hundred times, explaining each time that yes, this was the boutique from Caroline’s moodboard and yes, he was very inebriated with his best friend watching Don’t Tell the Bride when he signed up. And yes, she was still with him.

But to Dwight, every white dress looked the same. Normally, he shopped a little more fashionably than most men (except that “unfortunate” grey coat as Caroline named it). But that was the issue. Without Caroline whispering in his ear about bespoke embroideries, he didn’t know shit from butter.

“And what does your fiancée do for a living?” The lady asked politely and Dwight realised  he’d just resting bitch faced the camera for about an hour.

“Oh, she’s a freelance journalist for travel and fashion.” Dwight smiled. It had been a few days since he’d seen Caroline and it was abundantly clear that he couldn’t survive three weeks.

“She’s a fashion writer?” The lady placed down the dress immediately. “Right ok, this dress won’t do. Let me take you through to the high end dresses.” He knew he was heading into pricey territory and had to watch the budget but he knew Caroline would probably never speak to him again if the dress was anything less than perfect.

He saw bits and pieces floating by but with every new dress he’d see something that wasn’t right and told the cameraman, “Caroline hates frills, Caroline would die if there was beading and most of all, she’d rather die then wear a short dress. She keeps saying something about not being able to do a half loop stitch on China silk.”

“That’s from Legally Blonde.” The wedding dress lady filled her in, laughing a little.

“What can he say.” Ross shrugged. “He’s whipped.”

Just as Dwight was about to go round the bend, he saw something poking behind another hanger.

“Grab that?” He asked her.

“What?” She screwed up her face and he hoped to God she wouldn’t humiliate him on TV. “This is from last year’s collection.” But when she pulled it out. He knew.

“It’s perfect.” He breathed.

https://fa707ec5abab9620c91c-e087a9513984a31bae18dd7ef8b1f502.ssl.cf1.rackcdn.com/10742325_hermione-de-paula--couture-bridal-artistry_t661e1ee3.jpg

The Hen Party:

“I wouldn’t let onto him.” Caroline sighed. “But I am so worried for this wedding.”

“Well it’s actually physically impossible for you to let on.” Demelza rolled her eyes. “You’re literally not allowed to speak to him.”

“Don’t.” She held the bridge of her nose with his fingers. “I could give him a shirt with poppers instead of buttons and he would claim to not know the difference.”

“I hate how I can imagine that.” Demelza winced a little. “Where are we meeting Verity and Elizabeth?”

“In a secret location.” Caroline was trying not to panic. “That Dwight has chosen please God tell me he hasn’t planned the most vulgar hen party in existence. I want to be in bed by midnight.”

“What are you, 100?” Demelza asked. “It’s your hen party.”

The tinted windowed car pulled up as they were forced to remove their blindfold.

“Ah. This is a classy joint. This is good, this is good.” Demelza was reassured but Caroline didn’t recognise the place, like at all so had some suspicion- it was only in her nature.

Also it really didn’t help that she had a cameraman in her face the whole time, who she smiled at politely. They appeared to want her every reaction as she whispered. “Hopefully Dwight didn’t plan this drunk.”

Overall, Caroline’s initial impression was pretty good, but you wouldn’t know that as again, they were forced to film the entrance many many times. Finally they were united with their friends on a table and were told that their afternoon cocktails were indeed bottomless, courtesy of the groom, with all expenses paid.

“Well.” Caroline smiled, drinking her rosé spritzer and holding it up for a cheers. “I know I said I was furious at Dwight about this whole thing.” She turned to face the camera for dramatic effect. “And I am.” She turned back to her friends. “But that was before I knew about the infinite wine.”

Demelza chimed in. “I think we can all agree we are getting fucked tonight ladies.”

The Stag Party

“I’m glad we went and played it simple.” Dwight said to Ross as they drunk straight whiskey in their favourite homely pub.

“Not sure the camera man is too thrilled though.” Ross indicated and yes, it appeared he was asleep in an armchair as the log fire lit the room dimly.

“Cheers.”

The Wedding:

Why was Dwight having last minute doubts about the theme of the wedding? It had to be blue right? They both looked so good in blue and-

“Dwight I think you just zoned out. Again. She’ll be here in a minute.”

“Ross please.” Dwight saw his worst enemies, Caroline’s family sat front row. “I am wishing my own death over and over.” He passively aggressively waved and mouthed hi at Uncle Ray who just raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck him.”

“Ross you can’t swear in a Church!”

They were cut off by the announcement that the bride was to enter.

Dwight wanted to say every curse word under the sun but he knew the vicar was stood right next to him and was already judging Ross.

But he didn’t think he could say any words that could summarise how he felt when he saw Caroline walk down the aisle.

He suddenly didn’t care about the awkward cameras, or awkward wedding process because all he really cared for was the woman walking towards him, with a warm smile on her face that went all the way up to her loving eyes.

Yes, Dr Dwight Enys had fucking nailed it.

Despite her fancy tastes and luxurious upbringing, Dwight could never doubt that Caroline didn’t want a ceremony that was vulgar, that’s why he’d made the crowd small and the emphasis on her big, so it really felt like her day.

“Hey.” She whispered, smirking as she stood opposite him. “You killed it with the dress. They had to redo my makeup and all.” Her mic was picking this up, so yes, the viewers would hear this.

He could barely speak, after all. When he was around her, he was tongue tied and foolish.

She took his hand and when they said their vows, it was almost as if they were connected by something more, something ethereal.

“I really didn’t take the easy road marrying you did I?” Caroline leaned into him as they left the church, confetti everywhere.

Dwight could only smile mischievously, “And now, no doubt you hate me.”

“And now no doubt I hate you.”

The photo taken after she said that still lies on their mantelpiece.

After:

It was about a year after the wedding that Dwight and Caroline, neither users of social media checked the reaction to their wedding on twitter. They’d laughed endlessly at their own episode, so much so Caroline’s sides actually split.

“Ok so someone needs to get me a dwight enys????? he knows you can’t do a half loop stitch on china silk bc ofc he does?????? #dying #perfectioninaman”

“Right caroline is like my actual queen though? I never ever watch this trash show but i am trash for this couple #sorrynotsorry”

“#carolightpenvenys”

Caroline smiled. “Carolight Penvenys? Please.”

“Let the people do what they do.” Dwight let Caroline cuddle closer to him on the bed, pulling up her pink bedsocks and fiddling slightly like she always does.

“Dwight.” Caroline bit her lip. “I want to ask you something.”

“Anything.” Dwight was more open than she expected.

She took the laptop from him and it was too late before he realised what was going on.

“Oh Caroline!” His eyes widened. “No!”

To: applications@bbc.co.uk

From: yesiamarealdoctor@gmail.com

Subject: don’t tell the bride!!!!! Applction

Dear ladies n gentleman of the bbc

My name is Dwgt ENys and I want to volunteer me and my beautiful FUTURE WIFE(!!) Caroline the moooost beautiful woman!!!! To take part in your show!!

I want to make our wedding the best thing to ever live but me and my bst friend Ross know that her family hate me and asdfgh i just am scared we will fall out

I will attach about 100 photos of Caroline on the bottom so you see how beautiful she is ad her hai is so soft

Thanks and u can find us at our beautiful apartment!! But not all the time because my lady a go getter

Thanks

Dr dwight enys (PhD)

“Oh my God.” Caroline was uncontrollably laughing and honestly, Dwight had already softened. “And to think half your patients are in love with you. Little do they know you wear odd socks and drink your tea with a frankly offensive amount of milk.”

“What are you to do with me?” Dwight looked into her eyes, teasing a little.

“I guess, I guess I am going to have to take pity and stay with you forever.”

[normansollors]

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[whisper-of-a-screech]

Hi hello yes did someone say ~modern naruto au shit~ No. No one did. Here you are anyway go wild my friends Sakura: • freshman (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • booksmarts • distant and demanding parents • ‘perfect daughter’ facade • boiling issues of inadequacy • and anxiety • and anger • oh yeah and self esteem • fierce like you wouldn’t BELIEVE • Bisaster but hides it Sasuke: • freshman (high school) • second son of the region’s police chief • mom is a lawyer • looks up to his older genius (slightly mentally unstable) brother • but there’s always the niggling sense of ‘I’ll never measure up’ • good grades • but his parents are always busy • and his brother already hit all those top marks • so it’s nothing special, huh • also a Bisaster and gets flustered sometimes Naruto: • freshman (high school) • half feral • no one knows how he got into high school • frequently claims he was raised by a pack of dogs and/or his foster brother (Kakashi) • bad grades • Art Kid™ • loves paint • spray paint especially • Bisaster and doesn’t bother to hide it • ace • crushing on Kiba Kiba: • freshman (high school) • wild child • mom owns a vet clinic • everyone in his family owns a dog • bad grades • rough and tumble • wrestles for fun • probably in a gang • leather jackets • no one knows if he dyes his cheeks or if he actually got tattoos or what • plot twist his mom also runs a tattoo parlor • but his sister does hardcore YouTube makeup tutorials • it’s anyone’s guess Hinata: • freshman (high school) • shy kid • trying hard but average grades • first daughter of the next region over’s police chief • under crazy pressure • stutters • oversized sweaters • genetic eye thing? • feels inferior to her younger sister • wanted to be rebellious so she tried to dye her hair • but couldn’t make herself do anything more obvious than dark blue Shino: • freshman (high school) • quiet • rumors that he’s mute • sunglasses • oversized coat • plot twist he’s covered in bug bites because he lets mosquitos suck his blood • his family is beekeepers / bug-breeders / ? • likes catching fireflies but always lets them go quickly • average grades • makes a game of how many bugs he can sneak into his pockets before the teachers notice Ino: • freshman (high school) • popular girl • good grades • gossipy but good with secrets • croptops • dad is a reporter / interviewer after retiring from ~secret agency~ • friends with everyone • knows how to cook • good at board games • crazy good at painting nails Shikamaru: • freshman (high school) • probably narcoleptic • sleeps in class • bad grades • good at board games • conspiracy theorist™ • his room is covered in bulletin boards • with pinned newspaper clippings and red string • plot twist his dad has even bigger bulletin boards • and even more newspaper clippings / red string Chouji: • freshman (high school) • loves to cook • parents run a bakery and a restaurant respectively • average grades • good at board games • him and Kiba are in the same boat with the tattoo / dye / makeup mystery • but surely sweet Chouji would never get tattoos • no • never • (plot twist Kiba’s are makeup and Chouji’s are tattoos) Tenten: • sophomore (high school) • confident • has a knife collection • father is a blacksmith / bladesmith • friendly • good grades • no mom • oddly good at styling hair • plot twist it’s bc she does Neji’s Neji: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • honors student • Hinata’s cousin • dad died on duty with Hiashi • he blames Hiashi for it • genetic eye thing? • cool • distant • has plans to move in with Tenten after he hits eighteen Lee: • sophomore (high school) • straight A’s • Gai’s adopted son • hardworking • tired of ‘you don’t look alike’ comments • so now he and Gai look exactly alike • super emotional • will absolutely cry when he graduates • always gives 100% of his everything, for everything Itachi: • junior (college) • straight A’s • 4.0 gpa • Halloween Fanatic™ • blank expressions all the time • doesn’t talk often • ppl are always surprised when he does bc he sounds like he gargled a gravel driveway • plot twist it’s bc he’s a hardcore smoker • everyone knows the Uchiha all have this genetic cough/scratchy throat thing that usually comes in between the ages of 18 and 25 • except plot twist the Uchiha are all just chain-smokers • the ‘woke up like this’ kid • drinks matcha tea with his dango Kisame: • senior (college) • lots of tattoos (gills / blue-gray swirls / etc.) • dyes his hair blue • gets cold easy • wears ear warmers • hair doesn’t behave • had to file his teeth for a dare and now he scares all the freshies • polite • can down the blackest of coffee like water but doesn’t often • it’s an exam special • has seven (7) pet fish, two (2) pet snails and one (1) pet marimo algae ball • works at an aquarium • regularly ‘communes’ with the sharks • (he hums at them while they swim around) • but they seem to like him? • the staff is endlessly confused but like whatever floats your boat my guy Pein (Nagato): • senior (college) • philosophy major • blank and monotone • at least nine piercings • quiet but weirdly intense • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Konan • the only person allowed to call him Nagato is Konan • unless they want to wake up drugged in a ditch an inexplicable sixty miles from town covered in paper cuts Konan: • senior (college) • majors in Accounting and / or Management (business student) • somewhat less blank than Pein • has a few piercings of her own • is in some sort of Relationship™ with Pein • origami • never anything less than composed or pristine • badass • 100% of the time, just • badass Tobi: • senior (college) • speaks in third person • embraces his inner child • clumsy af • wears a phantom of the opera mask everywhere • no one knows / can remember his eye color • falls over a lot • trips up the stairs • extreme sweet tooth • likes juice boxes / goldfish / fruit snacks / etc. • roommates with Zetsu • they play go fish when neither can sleep • somehow good grades even though no one ever sees him in class • plot twist it’s bc he goes as Obito Zetsu: • junior (college) • completely lathers themself in water-resistant black and white paint every ~3 days • dyes their hair green • wears their botany project around • what ppl don’t know is that it’s a vampiric plant hybrid they bred specially to feed off blood • ‘i can’t go to her every time she needs to be fed, so i just bring her with me’ • wears contacts • spends most of their time in the greenhouse • doesn’t sleep • local cryptid • nb • ‘any pronouns but she’ • no one ever sees them eat Deidara: • freshman (college) • spends 2.2 hours on his hair and almost a fifth of his budget on hair products • band kid • eyeliner • makeup expert • he collabs with Hana for some YouTube makeup tutorials • drums • unexpectedly good singer • loves fireworks • makes his own fireworks • 4th of July is his favorite holiday • accidentally made a kiln bomb as a kid and now he explodes things as often as possible • enjoys sculpting clay figures for raku pottery with air bubbles so they explode when heated • hates coffee with PASSION • but still visits Sasori’s favorite cafe with him • not that he ASKS but it’s always nice to have company right? • right Sasori: • senior (college) • 21 but ppl think he’s 18 • he’s got a hella baby face • Art Kid™ • enjoys woodworking • and occasionally leather-crafting • dorm room is covered in puppets • human puppets / doll puppets / animal puppets • super good puppeteer • could do his entire show with his eyes closed • tutors Kankurou • once took an archery class and can hit dead center 95% of the time • can sleep with his eyes open • can also sleep standing up • he utilizes both these skills often • everyone thinks he’s a stoic bastard • and he is but also it’s mostly because he keeps falling asleep during conversations • dyes his hair red Kakuzu: • senior (college) • no one knows how long he’s been a senior • he’s not in debt • no student loans • no one knows how he’s doing it • plot twist it’s bc he’s filthy rich from scamming half the students in his freshman year oh so long ago • but he’s stingy and miserly and still lives off instant ramen and cereal • has like three PhDs • he’s working on his fourth • his blood is coffee at this point • he wears a face mask to hide the tattoos he got on a dare as a dumb teenager • has reading glasses but never uses them • green eyes but they’re so bloodshot he looks permanently high when instead he’s averaging 1.5 hours of sleep per night • rents his place out to other college students • he gouges them and they complain but it’s still cheaper than the dorms Hidan: • senior (college) • held back three years in high school • disappears every Sunday • says he was at ‘church’ but no one’s heard of a Jashinist church before much less one in the area • wears contacts • bleached his hair on a dare and liked it so he keeps doing it • regularly / ritually paints his face / chest / arms every Sunday for ‘church’ • prays four times a day on every sixth hour (5 am, 11 am, 5 pm, 11 pm) • has a religious exemption from class for 15 minutes at 11 am to pray • plot twist the only reason he got it is because he prays whether he has it or not and the professor got sick of him loudly and passive-aggressively reciting his prayers over the lecture • always carries his rosary • smokes occasionally • but has a Thing abt hygiene • his teeth are infuriatingly white