#that free stuff just magically appears without any effort

[niuniente]

Wow, so many saying in the last kudos-comment-bookmarks post that they comment only if the fic was SUPER GOOD. 72,2%(!!!) said they NEVER comment! (wtf???????)

So you want to give support only for insanely good writers? No support, in a form of comments, for beginners and not so good writers? And 72,2% of the fics deserve no comment because what? You didn't feel like commenting?

You think beginners keep writing if they don't get any "I liked this! Keep going!" support? Yelling into the wind and hoping someone hears and replies?

That's a hobby, you know. Not a profession. You expect a professional level stuff from a hobbyist, writing on their free time a fic they want to share with you, because they loved the idea, the same characters, the same ship or/and the same fandom as you do?

I'm speechless.

I'm going to go Abe Simpson here and say that when I was young, the courtesy was to comment on every chapter on each fic you read. That was the norm. The bare minimum expected from readers was to leave at least one comment at the end of the fic.

THINK HOW MUCH MORE PEOPLE WOULD WRITE, DRAW AND CREATE IF THIS LEVEL OF COMMENTING AND INTERACTING AS A PERSON, NOT A FACELESS KUDOS, WAS STILL A NORM!

I don't really like the shift in the fandom where nothing is expected from those who enjoy the stuff others make, except consume them silently.

It is not that much to be asked nor that difficult to be polite, kind, and type; "I read this. Thank you for writing!"

No, I won't listen to "UWU you're forcing us to comment! I don't like it!" Learn some fandom manners and be kind to others. Have empathy to those who create to understand that things won't magically appear on their own to AO3 or anywhere else. Someone has made them. It's not too much asked and no level of anxiety can't be THAT BAD that you can't type - even anonymously - just "TY" if you can't muster up anything else. Or leave a little heart. Or thumbs up emoji.

Acknowledge the hard work of those who offer you free stuff of your favorite fandom. That's your basic courtesy as a member of your fandom and I promise, it makes the other person happy - and more inspired to create more free stuff.

[iamthecomet]

Favorite headcanon for every ghoul! Go!

Ahhh!! OK! Thank you so much for asking!? Fair warning these are going to be all over the place--and I can't just pick one, you get two for each. Aether: - Magically connected to all the ghouls in his pack--no matter how far away they are. With a little effort he can feel what they're feeling (emotionally and physically). He definitely checks in on all of them at least once a day while they're away. - Works in the infirmary. Stayed home because he found working there far more fulfilling than being on stage. Swiss: - Can use his magic to literally turn into shadow. Uses this power for good, as well as voyeuristic reasons. Gives a killer massage in that form. Loves to eavesdrop on clergy meetings. - Fire/Shadow (quintessence really, but he doesn't know any other quint ghouls who can become discorporate sooooo) hybrid. One purple eye, one yellow/amber (all hybrids have heterochromia!) Dewdrop: - Actually an introvert. Loves acting out on stage. Can be loud and obnoxious. But really thrives on time alone. Not shy. Not reserved. Just needs to be left the fuck alone every once in a while and isn't afraid to tell people when he does. -Still has a lot of water ghoul traits, but refuses to call himself a hybrid because his gills are scared over, and both of his eyes are the same color (though whether they are copper, or blue, seems to depend on the day). Cumulus: - Crafty! Knits. Crochets. Very good at both. Uses that to fill her free time on tour. Is always making something. - Oddly, doesn't like thunderstorms. It has nothing to do with the air pressure and everything to do with the lightning/thunder. Cirrus: - The biggest bookworm out of all the ghouls. Will read anything. Always has a book with her. Makes list of book recommendations for all the other ghouls. When she tells you that you'll like a book--you can take that as fact. - Hates to cook. She can cook, she isn't bad at it. But she genuinely hates it and does everything she can to avoid getting roped into it. Mountain: - Plants grow from around his horns when he's feeling strong emotions. He can grow stuff on command as well, but that takes a lot of effort. But the stuff that just sprouts when he's feeling a lot of something happens without effort and has no impact on his energy. - Resident chef. Always cooks breakfast. Knows what everyone likes and doesn't like. Makes sure everyone always is fed and happy. Aurora: - Water/Air hybrid, but has more affinity for water. Air is hard for her. Water is as easy as breathing. But she only has one set of gills (on her ribs) instead of multiple sets like full water ghouls. - Really terrible at keeping track of her human glamour. Frequently gets shoved in between two bigger ghouls when they're in public to hide the sudden appearance of her tail/horns/claws. Aeon: - Shy. So shy. But also kind of an extrovert. Wants to be around people all the time. Basically the opposite of Dew. Is nervous about talking to a stranger (or anyone), but cannot stand to be alone. - Very emotionally intuitive because of his element. It's a little like reading minds without hearing thoughts. He can absolutely tell if someone is lying to him (or themselves). You cannot get one over on Aeon. Rain: - Exhibitionist. A little like Narcissus. Really loves to look at himself too. Knows other people like to look at him. Gets off on it. (He and shadow Swiss definitely have an arrangement). - So so wet. And always cool. Hugging Rain is like hugging a person who just got done swimming in the North Atlantic. Damp, and cold. Sunshine: - Loves to garden. Not an earth ghoul, but has a strange affinity toward flowers and herbs. Spends almost as much time in the greenhouse and gardens as Mountain. She takes care of all of the plants in and around the abbey when he's gone. - Calls herself a fire/air hybrid, but has a really strange grip on light manipulation. Can absolutely redirect sunlight to blind the shit out of someone. Swiss thinks if she tried hard enough she might be able to do what he does with shadow--just with light. She is afraid to try.

[itsyamajesty]

[I don't know how to do a masterpost, so this is going to get ALOT of edits]

The way this went is just that one ProZD skit (alternatively, "we doing circles now?")

I be thinking about all this stuff for Curse of Freedom (story based AU)

Then brain latches onto Rising Charcoal AU

"Guess this is happening now"

Rising Charcoal AU

Cookie Run Kingdom AU by (ya) Majesty

Based on 3 original what ifs:

Dark Enchantress wins

The Ancients are gone (missing, trapped, dead? Who knows, they aren't here to save anyone)

The Beasts have awaken, much weaker

(more below)

'Proper' Plot Description

(some things are ommitted because this is WIP, plus there's some stuff I want to be mysteries)

Most cookies have lost count of how long ago it happened.

The Ancients lost, they were split apart, and she took over.

Despite best efforts, the fighting was in vain. Are the Ancients dead... or simply captured? For some, the answer is clear, but with only the words of the darkness to listen to?

Is it true all hope is lost?

The Hollyberry Kingdom has been invaded by deadly poisons and crimson curses, all cookies who escape the jungles fall to the puppeteered Pitaya Dragon. The biggest settlement remaining is in a deep ravine, everyday spent planning against the fruit dragon, with the expectation of some trying all they can to free them from a hopeless spell.

The Dark Cacao Kingdom appears safer than ever before. Ruled by duel tyrants, the manipulative poisoneer and possessed knight. Together they've achieved a balance between protection of the public and the posh, a paradise most chose to reside. In truth, the smile of the snake and the sayings of the sword are not safe to believe.

The Golden Cheese Kingdom are wastes from which the licorice scented dead rise, clawing their way towards a small settlement of the Sand Slices, protected by shredding sandstorms caused by a surviving deity and the purple smoke of a revived advisor.

The entirety of Beast-Yeast has turned into various factories of unknown products, all being sent towards a laboratory on the island south. Some of these factories however are in ruin, covered by twirling vines and the aura of faerie magic.

In the Vanilla Kingdom, Dark Enchantress rules over it all.

Most other settlements have already been stampeded over by cake monsters, the larger being taken down by large creatures even the best will struggle to clash against.

It should have been this moment that all faith left- and yet hope had returned.

For unknown reason with unknown creators, the Beast Cookies awoke in bodies for their own. They had many new abilities with their vessels, but they were all much weaker overall.

In a fight for the world's fate, the Beasts' wish for conquest fades.

Guided by shards of their lost power, holding the memories of kings and queens who gained their power after, and now before, them.

Fighting it or not.

Their original selves are destined to return.

If they don't, the fate of Earthbread is sealed.

-

At some point, there will be a "key posts" list here:

-

For now, I don't know how to actually do the embed link stuff so

Everything can be found with the Rising Charcoal AU tag

I'm not expecting to get any fan content, but just incase anyone is interested, use Rising Charcoal AU Fancontent tag (or something else clarifying it's fanwork) instead of the main tag please. Just to keep everything organized (if anyone does make fancontent: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU)

I didn't originally have anything big for it beforehand, but I'm getting ideas, Plus, Curse of Freedom is very story based, and I want to try (and fail) to write it, I can't make half of the posts I want to without spoilers. So I can post this instead. There is still a story to it, but I don't plan on writing more than a couple oneshots or short non-serious series, so there's no pressure for me to keep things secret (although there is some things I'll keep in more mystery for awhile)

Also with school I have a lot of drawing opportunities, I already got some stuff, but nothing post worthy yet

[alphagodith]

hear me out; vampire ingo

if there is any way to insert vampires into an unrelated piece of fiction, I WILL FIND IT. today’s example is pokemon!

so ingo’s stuck in the past with no way to return home to his friends and brother who verrrrry much needs/wants him back, yes? if traveling through time instantly is not an option, why not just sit it out in real time? vampires are immortal and can even spend centuries just sleeping if they don’t feel like being awake the whole time, so... let’s turn ingo into a vampire so he can get back to the future the old-fashioned way!

and then emmet can catch up to him in years and once they look to be the same age again, ingo can turn emmet and we get immortal vampire train men! i see absolutely no downsides to this.

(if anyone wants to do anything with this concept feel free, just, plz tag me cuz i wanna consume all vampire ingo content)

my personal vampire rules for reference;

- immortal, do not age at all after turning, wounds do not scar tho scars from before turning don’t go away unless re-injured.

- appearance changes are minimal from turning. paler skin is a natural, gradual consequence of avoiding sunlight. eyes may glow, especially in the dark. fangs, obviously, but small enough not to look too out of place when not in use. gain a more beastly appearance when injured/starving/scared- pointed ears, slit pupils, elongated fangs, claws, bruising around eyes, darkened/visible veins.

- turning requires blood sharing and death. drain out the old blood and replace it with vampire blood, vampire blood reacts to dying body and turns it into an immortal body.

- can feed without killing, human blood is significantly more effective but pokemon blood (if red) works as well. you could feed once from a human per week or four times a week from pokemon and survive just as well. basically blood is better for a vampire/tastier to them the more similar it is to their own blood (easier to digest). this is why many vampires prefer blood of a specific type. (also this would mean that emmet’s blood is INSANELY delicious to ingo since they are biologically identical)

- vampire blood naturally heals tissue it touches, so small amounts can be used to heal humans. emphasis on small tho, unless you want to turn them. handy for sealing bite wounds.

- react to blood the same way humans react to tasty food; if they are hungry it will take some effort to resist but if they are fed they won’t bat an eye. if they get so hungry that they are actively taking damage/dying, THEN it becomes a problem they can’t control.

- allergic to sunlight but don’t IMMEDIATELY combust upon contact. being in sunlight is essentially like being way too close to a flame, uncomfortable and sickening at first/through clothes but gradually becoming more and more painful until one is sizzling and burning. ie, a hood and glasses would be enough to get to/from work without causing a scene, but longer would leave one weakened, and being directly exposed for more than a minute or two would be VERY bad.

- silver/holy water can cause burns as well if you want but i don’t care for religious stuff like that, particularly in the pokemon universe where i don’t think christianity is even a thing. garlic is bad just cuz vampires have heightened senses and it’s already strong and unpleasant for humans.

- vampires do not have a heartbeat, do not produce any more body heat than necessary to keep their blood from freezing, and do not need to breathe. their blood still runs through their veins due to the same magic that keeps them ‘alive’, but it’s a continuous flow rather than a pulse. they prefer colder temperatures, so sleeping underground is great, but get them so cold they freeze and that is a problem (tho they thaw out just fine). forgetting to fake breathing is a common problem, also forgetting that you have to inhale in order to speak, tho younger vampires often ‘pant’ on instinct when exerting themselves.

- a vampire is 4-10 times stronger, faster, etc, than a human, when well-fed. get stronger as they age, may gain powers like flight/invisibility depending on clan. directly related vampires (sire/childe) have a mild telepathic link, able to sense eachother’s locations and communicate with just thoughts over a short-ish distance (like within a mile of eachother). this can tie-in with the ‘twin telepathy’ myth if you want, enabling ingo and emmet a deeper bond even before emmet is turned and being hugely magnified after.

- a stake to the heart causes paralysis by blocking the flow of blood/magic that keeps them animated. whether they remain aware in that state or not depends on how complete that blockage is. (bigger stake, less awareness)

- can only be permanently killed by the head being totally torched/incinerated. significant head trauma can cause issues with regeneration tho, such as memory loss, or leave the vampire BASICALLY dead unless someone else intervenes (such as gathering their parts up together and dumping them in a blood bath).

[space-blue]

Lol why didn't Jinx even try to rescue Vi from the firelights after they disappeared with her? Maybe she doesn't know the location of their hideout but like she doesn't even appear to make an effort? Vi was being beaten up by them so how could Jinx be sure Vi'd be safe with them just because Ekko and her used to be close. Hell Jinx and Vi are sisters and SHE shoved her gun at Vi's face. Meanwhile Jinx just magically finds Caitlyn's address to kidnap her. What did I miss?

Lol why didn't Jinx even try to rescue Vi from the firelights after they disappeared with her? Maybe she doesn't know the location of their hideout but like she doesn't even appear to make an effort? Vi was being beaten up by them so how could Jinx be sure Vi'd be safe with them just because Ekko and her used to be close. Hell Jinx and Vi are sisters and SHE shoved her gun at Vi's face. Meanwhile Jinx just magically finds Caitlyn's address to kidnap her. What did I miss?

Hi Anon!

Rewatching this scene, you have to see how Jinx barely believes Vi is real. She's hearing voices, all over the place mentally, and when the smoke clears, she gives out this frightened "Vi?"

You can just tell the quiet and emptiness makes her wonder if she hallucinated the whole thing.

What does she do next? Well, she goes back to her lair, where she has a mental breakdown.

Patches up her own wounds.

She talks to herself, saying "she was there for me" and that she didn't "lose" Vi but she was taken. Meaning at least she's decided those events were real.

She's in no shape to go chasing Firelights though, and there's no way she knows their location. That place wouldn't exist otherwise, especially not the Powder mural.

Also, the shot of her "pew" shooting a firelight foreshadows the idea of her attack that evening on the bridge.

During the following hours, I assume she works on those bombs, and finds the time to ambush Silco and challenge him over Vi.

Then she goes to the bridge, and is already there when Vi & co. arrive. Rewatch the show and you'll notice that Jinx ALWAYS attacks from ambush. She has the places rigged. The festival tent, the boat hold, Silco's office (twice), Caitlyn's room, the dinner... The Firelight attack is literally the only time she's taken by surprise in the open.

Jinx is a spider. She always relies on tricks to get a starting advantage, even if she can hold her own against multiple enemies. Why does she not attack the Firelights? Well, even if she knew their location, attacking a stronghold like this, on her own, without baiting people into a trap first is just 100% not her style. That's Vi (cue vs. Sevika, inside the shimmer factory, then in the Last Drop). They have completely opposed styles.

As for Caitlyn, again when Jinx patches herself up, the voices in her head are goading her to go and remember her name.

It's not shown how she makes the jump to finding her, but you can easily make that up yourself. She's Silco's daughter. Silco who treats Chembarons like bitches. Some of those chembarons specialise in information gathering. I assume Jinx goes to any of their workers and asks "what do you know about an enforcer called Caitlyn, looks like this".

If beat cops know that Caitlyn is a Kiramman, there's no way a decent Zaunite information broker won't know that too. Silco's daugther comes asking? They probably give her all the intel for free.

Vi was being beaten up by them so how could Jinx be sure Vi'd be safe with them just because Ekko and her used to be close.

I mean, we know that Vi and Ekko are friends. Jinx probably also has some recent history with him trying to get her away from Silco (why else would she ironically call him the Boy Saviour?) so maybe she assumes Ekko is trying to "save Vi" as well.

But at some point, this becomes you digging too deep. The show cannot explain every single detail, and is relying on you to accept stuff and move along. Like for Cait. "Ah, she knew her name, guess she found her address" is what is supposed to be at the back of your head. For Ekko, you're meant to see Jinx be upset, ominously recall Cait's name, and then finger-gun shoot a firelight... And you're meant to think "Uh Ohh, she's gonna get up to more crazy shit", not "why isn't she mounting an attack on the Firelights".

It's just the show runners expecting some suspension of disbelief from you.

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,�� you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[chaozsilhouette]

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Regeneration Potion (Plat!C!Tommyinnit x Witch!F!Reader)

TW: Mentions of Dream's actions during Tommy's exile INCLUDING his un alive moment. YES I KNOW TUBBO CAN HAVE MORE THAN ONE FRIEND. SHUSH. PLOT.

Reader wears a dress most of the time. Also Tommy is around 17 (I forgot his canon age sorry)

I might make this a series!

☆Tommy P.O.V☆

His hotel was taken over.. His house was practically empty.. He was stared at everywhere he went.. His best friend replaced him instantly without much of a second thought.. His brother was dead, his other brother probably wanted to spill his guts for switching sides... He had... Nothing...

He had died for God's sake! Sure, he didn't expect people to immediately bawl their eyes out at the news, but he didn't expect to be brushed off so damn quick! He didn't expect the person he betrayed his brother for to replace him so quickly! He didn't... he... Was... Tubbo really his friend? He exiled him without checking up on him... He... He moved on so.. quick..

Standing over the giant crater once known as L'manberg, now covered with a thick sheet of glass... He wrapped his arms around himself and gave a sigh. In the distance, he could see Ranboo and Tubbo running around, most likely gathering materials for Sam Nook...

Gritting his teeth tightly, he felt a familiar burning behind his eyes before he stood up from a pile of dirt he claimed as a temporary chair. It took all of his power not to scream in emotional agony as he stormed away from the sight of his old best friend with someone else who he claimed as his new bestfriend.

Don't turn back...

With a few iron ingots and a low durability netherite sword to his name, Tommy walked as quickly as he could away from the memories. The sacrifices. The pain. The lonely feeling...

He had easily walked for a few hours, trying his hardest to find an area completely secluded from everything and everyone.

If they moved on once... They can move on twice..

He wanted to hold on.. He wanted to keep every little memory and object that he found comforting... But now... Everything he looked at caused a sharp pain to jolt through his heart...

He glanced up at the biome around him, only to frown slightly. It was a Dark Forest... But there was many problems..

He knew there were some large mushrooms, but he had never seen massive flowers bigger than a mansion! Everything... Felt weird... Somethings were incredibly varied in sizes! He spun around in awe as he stared at the different sized flowers and mushrooms scattered around him. Then... fear struck into his heart again...

Wilbur... He told him a story about a forest far to the north of L'manberg... Trees bigger than the eye could see, mushrooms taller than a house or smaller than a fingernail, flowers being anywhere from a millimeter tall to miles high into the air, all because of the land was protected by a Witch.

In the story, Wilbur said that only the lost and lonely would find that forest out of desperation to find salvation...

The Forest of the Forgotten...

His lips parted in surprise and he spun around to exit the land, in fear of upsetting the witch... Only to find a silhouette standing against the light a few inches away from him.

A not so manly scream tore from his throat and he hurriedly threw himself backwards, raising his arms above his head as he landed on the ground, "I'm sorry, Dream! I promise not to wander off again! Please don't take my stuff! Please I don't have anything left! Please...! Please!" He begged, tears spilling from his eyes as he scrambled backwards until he hit a tree. Tommy didn't even hear the foot steps wandering closer until a purple light rose into view.

He took a few gasps for air as he slowly lowered his hands. 'Dream's in prison. He's not here. He's not gonna hurt you again..' He carefully rose his gaze, only to see...

A young woman... She looked... Around his age!

She was kneeling on the ground a few feet away from him, just... Watching him. A black pointy hat was balanced on her (h/l) (h/c) hair that was nicely framing her (s/t) face. Her eyes were analyzing his every movement as they surged with purple flames... But they weren't threatening or violent... They were curious but calm..

He stared at her for a solid few seconds before realizing that the soft purple glow was coming from a ball of coloured fire in her hand. Mesmerized by the energy, Tommy hardly noticed when a dull pink glow appeared in his vision, only when the woman made effort to talk, did he notice.

"I... Don't know who Dream is.. But, I'm not here to take your stuff. That's a promise." She smiled softly, and moved her hand that held the pink glow closer to him. It... Was a Regeneration Potion. "Here, you look a little... Uhm... How do I say this nicely... Torn up...?"

Tommy couldn't hold back a frown as he rubbed his eyes free of tears. He forgot that his injuries from Dream hadn't healed yet... And probably wouldn't be healed for a long time. "Thanks... I guess.." He grumbled in an attempt to save whatever dignity he had left.

While he was considered naive, he wasn't stupid. He knew not to trust strangers immediately, so he uncorked the bottle and smelt it as he analyzed the colour to make sure it was really regeneration potion. At first, he wasn't going to drink it, but he quickly remembered that it wasn't like he had anything to lose, so he took a small sip.

It was dangerously sweet, much sweeter than Phil or Techno's potions, but it definitely wasn't awful and it for certain wasn't poison. He rolled his shoulders as he continued to sip at the potion while she stood up.

Dusting her black robe and dark (f/c) dress of any dirt, despite them being already dirty and a bit tattered, the (h/c) woman stood up and continued to clean the dirt off. "It will be getting dark soon... I'm not much of a fighter, so I will not be able to fend for the both of us if need be. Do you have a shelter nearby or would you like to seek refuge with me for the night?"

Did this crazy woman not know the meaning of stranger danger?

☆Your P.O.V☆

No matter how much you threw yourself into your studies, the looming loneliness never seemed to leave you..

Keeping to your daily routine, you begrudgingly lifted yourself out of bed and sat down at your vanity, glaring at your reflection that bared knotted hair and sleepy (e/c) eyes. Your non dominant hand stretched out towards your closet and watched as your irises lit up a bright surging purple, activating your magic. Your dominant hand began to run a brush through your hair while your other hand controlled the magic that was currently being used to sort through the row of clothes in your closet. Once you found an outfit that you deemed adequate, you made a quick gesture with your hand that caused the clothing to float onto your bed.

It didn't take very long to get ready, I mean, come on, you were in a large forest miles away from the closest village! It's not like you were going to be seeing anyone for a few more centuries.

Your house was cozy and rather small, but it housed you and your black cat Salem comfortably. It was nice and quiet where you lived.. Albeit dark and lonely..

The trees often covered the sun and prevented you from knowing what time it was, but you had stopped caring about the date long ago. It never mattered to you anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Quit meowing. You act like you haven't eaten in a year." You rolled your eyes at the dramatic feline as you prepared your own breakfast first. Salem kept meowing loudly, standing beside her food bowl and swatting it every so often until you used your magic to toss a fish to her. "You done with your whining now? Big baby."

You rolled your eyes as you sat down with your bowl and quickly ate the fruits you had sliced up. Downside to living here, you primarily survived off of fruits and berries because animals rarely wandered into the forest, and if they did, well you kept them for their resources like milk or eggs or wool.

With a small sigh, you got up and washed your bowl, via magic so you didn't have to feel the burning sensation of the water on your skin, as you contemplated what you were going to do today.

Eventually you decided on going to walk through the forest to find more animals or scavenge for more fruits. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you double checked that it was stocked up with healing and regeneration potions just in case, only to throw your shoes on. Waving good bye to your lazy annoying cat, that you still love regardless, you shut the door and walked down the path.

The silence was normal... But god it was deafening when something stepped on a branch or when one of your chickens decided to give a particularly loud squawk, but it did indeed heighten your senses.

Giving a sigh, you rose your hand and a purple pulse flew from your hand then trailed down your body and travelled through the forest. Your magic didn't detect anything out of the ordinary except for once thing near the entrance.

"Ah.. God.. Please don't be a zombie.. I'm not a fighter.." You whispered under your breath before setting off towards the untouched and overgrown entrance of the forest.

Arriving to the main path, you looked over a little bit to see a tall blond male spinning around in absolute awe of the forest.

He then took a sharp breath and spun around, almost immediately coming face to face with you. The loudest scream you had ever heard left the boy and he quickly stumbled backwards until he fell to the ground and hit a tree, "I'm sorry, Dream! I promise not to wander off again! Please don't take my stuff! Please I don't have anything left! Please...! Please!" He practically cried apologies while he curled into a wall.

'What kind of reaction was that?!' You thought curiously as you kneeled down a few feet in front of him. Assuming that the dark had freaked him out, you summoned a ball of fire and held it out, using the time to study the strange boy. His dirty shirt was ripped and torn in several places, his skin was decorated with mud, soot, cuts, bruises and scars and his cheeks were damp with tears. His breath was turning into gasps as his thin frame shook violently.

"Hey... Are you okay?"

He didn't seem to hear as he began murmuring quietly to himself, rocking back and forth a small bit to calm himself down. After a few moments, he lowered his arms and stared blankly at the magic in your palm.

Seeing the injuries on his pale skin, you dug into your bag and pulled out a glowing pink potion before holding it out to him. He didn't seem to notice it until you cleared your throat. "I... Don't know who Dream is.. But, I'm not here to take your stuff. That's a promise." You smiled as politely as possible, and moved your hand that held the potion closer to him. "Here, you look a little... Uhm... How do I say this nicely... Torn up...?"

The male grumbled a bit under his breath but looked genuinely thankful as he took a small sip of the potion. After deeming it wasn't poisoned, he began to take larger drinks of it.

"It will be getting dark soon... I'm not much of a fighter, so I will not be able to fend for the both of us if need be. Do you have a shelter nearby or would you like to seek refuge with me for the night?"

Honestly... The face he made amused you quite a bit...

[murdereraisuha]

I have this AU idea that I’m going to call a Pair Swap AU. Basically, characters are grouped into pairs, then the relationship dynamics between all the pairs are swapped around. Then, it turns into a challenge to figure out how the new dynamic would work for each pair and what the resulting changes in backstory/personality/story would be. To make sure the characters aren’t completely warped, the rules are that neither their base personalities nor their unique magic should drastically change.

For example, for the main cast of TWST, a possible arrangement of pairs and dynamics:

Riddle & Trey = Childhood Friends

Ace & Deuce = Bickering 1st Years

Leona & Ruggie = Boss and Henchman

Jade & Floyd = Twins

Kalim & Jamil = Master and Servant

Vil & Epel = Mentor and Rebellious Mentee

Ortho & Idia = Android and Creator

Lilia & Malleus = Experienced and Inexperienced Immortals

Silver & Sebek = Knights in service to the same person

Then, after rearranging them, I have:

Riddle & Trey = Master and Servant

Ace & Deuce = Knights in service to the same person

Leona & Ruggie = Childhood Friends

Jade & Floyd = Android and Creator

Kalim & Jamil = Twins

Vil & Epel = Bickering 1st Years

Ortho & Idia = Experienced and Inexperienced Immortals

Lilia & Malleus = Mentor and Rebellious Mentee

Silver & Sebek = Boss and Henchman

To start with, I’ll explore how the new dynamics for Kalim & Jamil and Jade & Floyd might work under the cut. If anyone’s interested in this, I’ll make more posts.

First off, just want to note that I am not going to try and fit the new story to the Disney movies, it is going to be based solely on how the backstory/personality changes might impact the original plot.

---

For Kalim and Jamil to be twins, one needs to be transferred to the other’s family, so we’ll turn Jamil into Jamil Al-Asim. Furthermore, in canon, Jade and Floyd’s twin dynamic specifically has them be equals without any concept of an older or younger brother, so for this AU Jamil and Kalim are also treated as equals. They are both considered the heirs of the family, and when they grow up it is expected that they either inherit the family business together or just choose 1 of them to inherit it.

Since Jamil isn’t forced to hold back for Kalim’s sake now, he can freely flaunt his talents. He consistently surpasses Kalim, which could lead to something like Farena & Leona’s situation where everyone fawns over Jamil but dismisses Kalim. However, given Jamil’s unique magic and his more abrasive behavior in canon post-chap4, maybe the servants + family become split, with some backing Jamil and his greater talent while others back Kalim and his greater approachability. Then we get a situation where they’re both subconsciously or consciously envious of the other, creating tension in their relationship beneath the surface level impression they give off of being twin brothers on good terms with each other.

At NRC, I think it could go either way on who’s the dorm leader and who’s the vice dorm leader depending on the previous guy’s criteria for choosing his replacement, but I think it’s more likely Jamil would get the top position even with Kalim putting more effort into improving his skills. For the new chapter 4, this could just turn into a role-swapped version of the canon one, but I’m digging the equality thing I have going on so I think it would be fun to have an even split in the dorm, the same as back home, where some people are just fine with Jamil being the dorm leader while other people think that Jamil is too unrelatable/scary and they want Kalim in the lead instead. This then leads to conflict between the twins, and around overblot time they both finally let loose their frustrations and how inferior the other has made them feel. The ending lesson/revelation is that they don’t have to let others drive a wedge between them and they don’t need to fight, so the aftermath is them beginning to work through all those years of conflict.

---

I wanted this arrangement of pairs + dynamics to be interesting but not overly hard to figure out, which is why Jade & Floyd as Android & Creator was the very first one I thought of. Since Floyd is canonically a genius and very fast learner, it’s not too much of a stretch for him to get good at robotics. Then, Jade’s butler-like behavior and skills translate well into him being an android created to handle stuff that Floyd doesn’t want to deal with.

In this AU, Floyd is now an only child (though maybe that wasn’t always the case ouo). I feel like he might have befriended Azul earlier and/or developed a more cautious/melancholy attitude due to the absence of his responsible partner in crime. When they go on land to attend NRC, electronics catch Floyd’s eye, and before he reaches winter break of their 1st year, Jade has come into existence. 

I don’t have the details fleshed out for Immortal Ortho & Idia, but I think I’ll keep Ortho as a kid, so Jade is also going to retain his 17 year old appearance. I feel like Jade would look less obviously robotic than Ortho, cause why make an android based on yourself if you’re not going to go all the way and give them the ability to completely impersonate you. Like canon Ortho, Jade isn’t registered as a student, so he can attend classes in place of Floyd without having his own classes/grades to maintain. He also can’t be vice dorm leader, so Floyd officially gets that position now. Jade is basically the honorary vice dorm leader though. 

I think they would still kind of be the same as in canon regarding working with Azul and stuff at Mostro Lounge, but there’s going to be subtle differences. For example, if Floyd is not basing Jade off of a dead brother, he might be more dismissive of Jade’s wants and feelings since Jade was made solely to serve him. On the other hand, if Jade IS Floyd’s dead brother, it’ll definitely be less straightforward. Floyd's existing chaotic nature + any additional temperamentalness due to lingering grief makes him difficult to predict. Would he be more awkward, not sure what to do now that he has Jade again? But it isn’t really Jade, is it. Unlike Idia who may have had a way to convert Ortho’s brain to digital data or something so the android Ortho is really his brother Ortho, the best Floyd can probably do is make an AI based on his fleeting memories of Jade. So, is this Jade? Can he even call this android by the name Jade? Is he forcing this completely new person to be someone who’s long dead?

---

I’m kind of torn on how the new story chapters are going to work. Characters are still in the same dorms as before, so do I keep the 1 dorm per chapter and focus on the dorm leader? Do I keep the 1 dorm per chapter but shift focus to the paired characters so I neglect Azul but show off the Leechs? Or do I completely mess around with the story, so chapter “3″ is still on Azul but I put in a new chapter somewhere for the Leechs? Idk. Anyone who has ideas to add onto this, feel free to add ‘em

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 30 – Written in the Stars

Chapter 1     Chapter 29

“Congratulations Officer Grayson!” Bruce boomed, raising his glass along with the rest of the room of friends and family.  A loud cheer rose up in agreement with his comment.

Dick smiled at them graciously and clinked his champagne glass with Marinette’s juice glass, pulling her closer into his side with his other hand.  Marinette squeezed him back and looked up at him with a proud smile.

“Finally, someone who can fix my tickets,” Jason cheered.

“Not going to happen. In fact, I might write more up for you. Did you know parking your motorcycle in an alleyway is a moving violation?” Dick answered with a smirk.

Jason gaped at him, every inch of him conveying the betrayal he felt until he finally looked down to Lucy in his arms with a sour look.  “Man, fuck the police.  Can you say that?  Fuck. The.  Police.” He enunciated each word slowly for her.

“Language Master Jason,” Alfred chided.

“Jason, do not teach my children to badmouth their father,” Marinette warned with an accompanying glare.

Jason huffed and returned his attention to Lucy.  “Fine whatever.  But the cursing’s okay, right, Pixie?”

“No,” Dick answered quickly before Marinette could respond.  He really wasn’t confident what her answer would be considering the language she used when she and Jason were hanging out.

“Wasn’t asking you, Dickhead,” Jason singsonged while making faces for Lucy.

“Don’t badmouth their father while they can hear you, Jason,” Marinette repeated with a sharper edge to her voice this time.  “And I’m fine with you teaching them to curse as long as you’re willing to deal with the repercussions of Alfred and my Mother finding out exactly where they learned it from.”  She shrugged casually as she said it but the smirk on her face when she looked up at Dick made it clear she knew exactly how much of a threat that was.

Jason pouted and focused on Lucy.  “Your Grandmother and Grandfather are both deceptive bad asses.  Never cross either of them.” The room broke in laughter as Alfred grinned smugly and nodded in approval.

“So what are you going to do now, Officer Grayson?” Stephanie asked as she bounced Rob to quiet his fussing.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck.  “I don’t really know.  Hang out with the family, I guess.”

“I have a celebratory dinner planned unless you have other plans, Master Dick,” Alfred stated, looking at Marinette questioningly.

Dick looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment before answering cautiously.  “I don’t think I do.  Do I?”

“It’s up to you.  I was thinking maybe we could go out for a celebratory dinner.  Together. Just the two of us,” Marinette offered quietly.

“Like on a date?” His face brightened considerably.

“If you want it to be,” she answered shyly, suddenly not able to look in his eyes.  Suddenly, it felt dangerous to offer.  Her heart was pounding.  What if he changed his mind, which was ridiculous because he still acted the same as he had when they first started dating.  But some part of Marinette, the anxiety controlled part, insisted there was still a chance, and as always happened when anxiety entered the arena, it took over, regardless of rationality.

Dick wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him, adoration shining in his eyes. “I do.”

Marinette let out a relieved sigh and an exhilarated smile spread across her face.  “Great!  I know just the place.”  A devious glint appearing in her eye.  The same look she got whenever she had come up with a brilliant plan.  She looked him up and down, taking in the dress blues he was still wearing from his Academy graduation.  “You should change before we go though.” She looked down at her dress. “I should too if we’re taking the bike.”

“I’ll watch the rug rats while you’re gone,” Jason offered as he wiggled Lucy’s hand that was wrapped around his finger.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll watch over the infants to ensure they are safe and adequately mentally stimulated while they are awake,” Damian offered loudly, a confident look on his face.

Dick raised his eyebrows in surprise at Damian and looked down to Marinette to see if he was really hearing what he thought he was.  That was by far the strangest outcome of the situation, Damian taking his position as the twins’ uncle with deathly seriousness.  He watched over them like one of his pets, until they started crying. Then the twins were their parent’s or someone else’s problem.

Marinette smiled knowingly at him and nodded almost imperceptibly to assure him that Damian was in fact offering to babysit.  Dick subtly glanced to the more responsible people in the room to see if they would be there as well.  Barbara, Alfred, and Bruce all nodded at him to assure him they would stay as well.

“I’d help too, but… I have plans,” Adrien shrugged, deftly changing the topic of conversation before another fight over who the best uncle was could break out between Jason and Damian. Which was absolutely ridiculous anyway. Clearly, he was, precisely because he did things like taking this hit.

“With Wally?” Marinette asked innocently.

“Yeah,” Adrien answered a little too breathlessly.

“Ooooooohhhhh,” Marinette teased with a knowing smirk.   Dick grinned.  He had introduced Adrien to the Titans when they stopped by to meet the twins and take a second shot at meeting Marinette, this time without them having to hide anything and with Plagg sequestered in Dick’s bedroom, nowhere near Garth.  As expected, Wally and Adrien hit it off extremely well, the enthusiastic, bubbly, romantics, that they were.

“Shut up.  It’s not like that,” he grumbled looking away from them. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing his lovesick expression.

“Yes, it is,” Marinette, Dick, and Stephanie all chimed at the same time.

Adrien’s cheeks blushed a deep rose color and he growled halfheartedly at them as he left.  “Good luck,” Marinette called to him.  He waved and stuck his tongue out at her as he closed the door.  Marinette giggled and turned back to Dick.  “I’m going to feed the twins while you’re changing.”

“Okay.  I’ll take a quick shower too then.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek before making his way to his bedroom.

Marinette nodded and took Lucy from Jason, who only gave her up grudgingly.  “And we’re going to get you ready, too,” Stephanie informed her as she slung her free arm over Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette laughed and shook her head.  “We’re going to have about two hours between when they eat and when I have to be back to feed them again.  I’m not wasting any of that time on appearances.  If Dick is still willing to go on a date with me after sharing a room with me when I hadn’t showered in I don’t know how many days, he will be fine with me not having a ton of makeup on.”

“Okay fine,” Stephanie groaned before immediately brightening again.  “I’ll do stuff while you’re nursing then,” Stephanie insisted, completely ignoring Marinette’s objections.

Marinette sighed and shook her head.  This was not worth the effort.  She was not willing to put what little energy she had into debating personal boundaries and priorities with Stephanie, and apparently Cass, judging by the excited glint in her eye.  “Fine. Just don’t get any makeup or hairspray on Lucy or Rob while they’re eating.”

Stephanie squealed and handed Rob off to Barbara as she and Cass raced to her room to get everything ready. They only had about ten to fifteen minutes to treat Marinette like their own personal doll and they weren’t about to waste any of it.  Marinette looked over to Barbara and Tim with a questioning glance.  “Either of you two want to get in on this?”

Tim waved his hands in front of him.  “Hell no. I’ve seen them in this mode.  I’m not getting in the middle of that.  Good luck.”

Barbara laughed and rolled over to her.  “I’ll come to help.  At the very least I can hold one baby while you feed the other one… and laugh at you while they work their magic”

Marinette giggled at her as she rolled her eyes.  “So very magnanimous of you.”

<><><><><> 

Dick’s entire body relaxed as he sped through Gotham’s streets.  He had missed driving through the streets of Gotham with Marinette’s arms wrapped around him.  They hadn’t done it since she was only a few weeks into the pregnancy then quickly had to switch to a car when it became too dangerous and awkward for her to ride with him. He loved feeling the rush of the wind against him and the warmth of Marinette’s arms and body pulled tight against him.  The way their bodies moved in sync with one another as he turned or changed lanes.

“Make a left here,” Marinette yelled.  He nodded his acknowledgement and made the turn.  They were in a very familiar neighborhood.  “Right,” she yelled again.  He nodded again and made the turn.  They drove straight for a few blocks until Marinette yelled the final time. “We’re here.”

Dick chuckled and shook his head as he pulled off his helmet.  “Batburger?” He raised his eyebrow at her.

Marinette shrugged and pulled her helmet off as well, giving him a sweet smile.  “Thought we could try it again when I’m not pregnant.  See if it really was just the pregnancy that made it taste so good.”

“Want to eat in the park again?” he asked as he secured their helmets.  He took her hand, entwining their fingers as they walked into the restaurant.  

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” she nodded at him.

“I think that sounds brilliant,” he assured her, pulling her against him and circling his arms around her waist.

“You ready to order or what?” the cashier asked in an annoyed voice.

Marinette giggled into Dick’s chest.  “Not a fan of romance,” she whispered.

“Two batburger deluxe meals, please,” he looked over to Marinette to get her approval.  When she nodded in agreement he returned his focus to the cashier to pay.

Their order was done in just a few minutes and a few minutes after that they were looking out over the same park and sitting on the same bench they had sat at during their first date. Marinette took her first bite and quirked her lips to the side before continuing to chew.

Dick laughed and swallowed his bite.  “So, what do you think?”

“It was definitely the pregnancy.  But it’ll do. It was more about the nostalgia.” She grinned up at him and took another bite.

“How about you?  What do you think?  Are you excited for your first day as a Gotham Police Officer?” She grinned up at him, the proud look gleaming in her eyes again.

He smiled at the look, his chest puffing out ever so slightly at the way she was looking at him.  “I am.  I’m really hoping I will be able to make a difference, within the police department more than anything else.  I think if I can make a difference there, weed out as much corruption as I can, then that will feed out into the community, more than anything I could do as a single police officer.”

Marinette nodded in agreement.  “I think you’re right.  I’m worried about you though.”

Dick grimaced and considered not telling her the next part, but he’d promised her and, more importantly, himself, that he wasn’t going to keep things from her just because it might worry her.  He took a deep breath before continuing.  “I’ve already been approached by one of the families to work for them.  Saw him talking to a few other cadets as well.”

“Dick!” Marinette gasped, eyes wide with concern.

“It’s okay,” he assured her with more calm than he felt.  “Commissioner Gordon and I expected it.  It would actually be more concerning if I didn’t get approached by anyone.”

“I know.  It just makes me nervous.” She looked down at her burger and took another bite so he wouldn’t see her concerned frown.  “Your fellow officers are supposed to have your back, not stick a knife in it.”

“I can handle myself. I’ve been trained since I was nine to take on more than a few rampant officers.”  He puffed out his chest in an exaggerated motion to distract her.  “I’m like Captain America in the elevator.  I can take on all of them with nothing more than a stick and win.”

Marinette giggled and buried her face in his shoulder trying very hard not to laugh at him.  She finally pulled her face out of his shoulder to look up at him in adoration.  “You’re better than Captain America,” she assured him.  “Just as skilled, better moves, smarter plans, better leadership, and all without the need of a super serum.”  She brushed his hair away from his forehead and traced along the side of his face down to his jaw.  “And much handsomer.”

She guided his face to hers and pressed her forehead to his.  She let out a deep breath before continuing.  “Just… make sure you come home to me, to us, every night.”  She looked back up at him with concern etched deep in her features.  “Please.”

“Every night?  Forever?” Dick asked hopefully.

Marinette paused to think about it.  That was what she had meant.  Without overthinking it, without letting anxiety dictate her thoughts, that was what she had wanted.  That was what she was asking him for.  They had been waiting so they could figure out some issues they had between them and within themselves.  Dick acted to protect without sharing.  She hid away entire parts of her life.  They both had needed to learn to open up more.  

She was ready.  She was ready to break down the last bastion of secrecy hidden in the depths of a magical fortification.  If Dick wanted, she was ready to let him in.  The question was whether he was ready.

She nodded slowly, her forehead still pressed against his, her breath fanning across his face.  “I’m ready.  I’m ready to move forward, but I don’t want to rush you.  I don’t want to rush us if we aren’t both ready.  I want to make sure we last.”

Dick grinned and ran his knuckles along her cheek.  “We’ll last.  It was written in the stars.  The universe brought us together.  And we’ll take on the universe if it tries to tear us apart.”

“And win,” Marinette giggled affectionately, the smile on her face brilliant and hopeful.

Dick grinned against her lips.  “And win,” he agreed solemnly.  “That’s a very important part.”  She grinned at him and gently brushed her lips against his.  She started to pull away but he followed her, pressing his lips against hers more urgently.  She pushed back against him, bunching her fists into his shirt, pulling him closer with it.  He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

She whimpered against his mouth as his hand moved up her back until it wound into her hair.  The sound made his heart race.  God, he had missed this feeling, the feeling of her lips against his, of her body against his, the exhilaration her sounds produced in him. He missed knowing she was his to touch, that she wanted him to do it.  He missed the way they fit, like a perfectly engineered puzzle box, each piece fitting into the other so precisely, anything else felt wrong.  

She moved her arms around his neck, working her fingers into his hair to pull him closer.  She needed to be closer.  She had missed his warmth and the way he touched her and now she couldn’t get enough. She needed more.  She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, opening her mouth to grant him access.  She moaned as his hands traced her face and worked down her sides and back up her back.

She finally pulled away breathless after a few minutes and smirked at him.  “Definitely more enjoyable without the nausea.”  She rested her head against his neck as she fought to recover her breathing.

“Glad to hear it,” he laughed.  He hugged her closer to him, keeping his arms tight around her.  “I missed kissing you,” he whispered as if afraid to break a spell.

Marinette grinned and kissed his neck.  “Me too. I missed kissing you, hugging you, being held by you,” she looked pointedly at their situation, “sitting in your lap, calling you my boyfriend.”

He hummed in agreement and nuzzled his head against hers.  “I’d prefer fiancé or husband, but I’ll take boyfriend for now.”  He smiled thinking of the ring he already had stuffed away in his drawer.  

“You’re ready for that move?” she pulled away in surprise.

“I’ve been ready for months.  Even after our fight, I’ve never changed my mind.  I love you Marinette.  I am completely, utterly, ridiculously, unapologetically in love with you.”  He leaned down to kiss her, slowly, sweetly, passionately.  “I know what I want my future to be.  I’m just waiting for you to decide if it’s what you want too.”

Marinette stared at him in awe.  She shook her head and buried it in his neck again as tears began to fall.  “Marinette?” he asked carefully, trying to pull away far enough to look her in the eye.  He wasn’t expecting tears.  That was… a concerning reaction.  He didn’t think suggesting they eventually marry would make her cry.  Damn it, way to kill the mood just as they were getting back to a great place.

She took a breath to steady herself, a breath that very much smelled like Dick. She pulled away enough to look up at him, love shining in her eyes.  “I don’t know exactly what I want for my future, but every time I picture it, you’re there with me.  Every iteration of it you’re there with me.  Sometimes with just Lucy and Rob, sometimes with more kids.  Sometimes in the manor, sometimes in our own place.  Sometimes in Gotham, sometimes somewhere else.  Sometimes I’m running a major fashion label, sometimes I’ve become a WE employee.  Sometimes you’re still an officer, sometimes you’re a detective.  But every version, every iteration, you’re there with me.  I know that much.  That’s all I know.  I love you and I want my future to be with you.”

He examined her eyes to look for any indication of uncertainty in her words, but her eyes were confident and adoring.  He surged forward to capture her lips in another searing, breathtaking kiss. The moan she let out into his mouth made his body react viscerally.  They needed to get somewhere more private before they continued.  “Maybe we should take this home and away from prying eyes,” he gasped out when he was finally able to force himself to break away.  She nodded wordlessly, still trying to catch her breath.

<><><><><> 

“Perfect timing,” Barbara smiled at them.  Lucy was rooting into her chest searching for something to latch onto. “They just started fussing and searching for milk in places they won’t find it.”

Marinette laughed and took her from Barbara.  “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.  I feel worse for her.  She’s never going to find what she’s looking for here.  Hate to be a disappointment.”

“If it makes you feel better, they find me to be just as much of a disappointment,” Dick offered.  “No milk, no value.”  He shrugged.

“Come here, sweetie.  Don’t let them shame you for knowing what you want.”  She stuck her tongue out at them and left the room with a smile.  

Dick picked up Rob from Duke with a smile and a nod of thanks.  “Anytime,” he shrugged as he handed Rob off.  “So… how did it go?”

“Hm?” Dick responded absentmindedly, checking Rob to see if his clothes needed to be changed too or just his diaper.

“How did it go?  How did the date go?” Stephanie elaborated annoyed by his lack of attention.

“Oh,” Dick’s eyes brightened and he grinned excitedly.  “It went brilliantly.  We’re back together and we know where we want to go with our future.”

“So… proposing within the year or within a few months?” Tim asked with a smirk.

“Pft. Knowing Dickieboy, within a few hours,” Jason scoffed popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Dick ticked his head to the side.  “Considered it, but I want to make it romantic.”  He turned to Tim with a wink.  “Give me a few days.  Come on, Rob. Let’s get you changed and ready for Mommy.  Night guys.” He smiled at them as he carried Rob to the family bedroom.

“Have fun tonight,” Stephanie called after him with a laugh.

“No more babies tonight,” Jason called immediately after.  “Turn the movie up.  I don’t want to hear them ignoring me,” he grumbled to Duke.

Dick made it up to the family bedroom just in time to change Rob’s diaper, reswaddle him, and switch Lucy for Rob so Marinette could nurse him.  She took him with a smile.  “Did I hear Jason yelling?”

“Yeah, he was just saying how happy he was that we’re back together,” Dick assured her with a laugh.

Marinette chuckled then immediately quieted when the movement startled Rob. “Sorry Rob,” she cooed at him.

Dick swaddled Lucy quickly and laid her down in her crib.  “How about I set up a movie in the other room?” he whispered into her ear as he gently ran his hand over Rob’s head.

Marinette hummed in appreciation and pressed her head against his.  “That sounds wonderful,” she whispered back.

He kissed her temple and quickly made his way to his bedroom.  He pulled out a few fuzzy blankets and navigated to a movie he thought she would like.  He ran down to the living room where the rest of the family was and grabbed one of their bowls of popcorn and a few drinks.  “Thanks,” he called out to them as he ran away before anyone could stop him. He set up the popcorn and drinks on the side table and propped up a few more pillows for them to lean against while they watched the movie, if they did in fact watch the movie, though he really hoped they would be too busy doing something else.

He kicked off his shoes and double checked that everything looked perfect. Assured that it was, he made his way back to the family bedroom.  He had expected Marinette to be done already and come find him.  He silently opened the door to check on them and smiled at the scene in front of him.  That was why Marinette hadn’t come to find him.  She had fallen asleep nursing Rob.  Rob was lazily sucking at her breast in his sleep.  Dick shook his head at her.

Dick picked up Rob and put him back in his crib.  He fussed sleepily for a few seconds, trying to get back to the nipple, but quickly fell back asleep.  Marinette opened her eyes at the movement, arms reaching out to keep Robert from falling. She looked up at Dick with a hazily confused look.  “What’s going on?”

Dick smiled at her and made his way back to her, picking her up in a princess hold and carrying her to her bed.  “We have the rest of our lives to watch a movie or do anything else.  Tonight, I think you need sleep,” he told her quietly as he gently laid her down, pulling a blanket over her.

She hummed in response and pulled the blanket closer around her.  He kissed her cheek and ran his fingers over her face lovingly before pulling away to get ready for bed.  Before he could move away from her, she caught his hand and pulled him down next to her.  She looked up at him with soft, affection filled eyes.  “Please stay?”

Dick’s heart stuttered at the request, so open and vulnerable and filled with love. He smiled at her and climbed into bed next to her as she lifted the blanket for him.  “Always,” he whispered into her hair.  He settled in behind her and gently pulled her against him, feeling her warmth against him as she curled into him and he curled around her in a perfect harmony.

The End

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin @thewitchwhowaited @redscarlet95 @jayjayspixiepop @alessialeone6997

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost (sequel to Wanda and the life she deserved)

Summary: *Important to have read "Wanda and the life she deserved (She'll make sure of it)" at least until chapter 4 or 7 (Though until the end is the best) Sister fic, it goes before, during and after "Wanda and the life she deserved (She'll make sure of it)"* Peter is missing and all they can find is a transmission of a Wanda Maximoff. The team will do what they can to bring their missing member back from whatever this place is. Though someone needs to do the difficult thing and tell Erik that he once again lost his family.

Next parts: chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, 

Chapter 1: Missing

Peter was fiddling with his Walkman, switching between songs, he wasn’t sure what he was in the mood for. He finally settled on a random one, not really caring about his choice. He was thinking way too quickly to concentrate on a song anyway. Erik was back at the mansion, he had showed up, unannounced and walked in like he owned the place. Maybe he did, who knew what was going on between him and Charles. He didn’t stay with the students, preferring the company of the professor. The speedster had no idea where he could have gone, it’s not like he could rent a room or a house without immediately being recognized, but the last year seemed to prove the contrary. Though, Peter now faced a dilemma, he could pull off a reverse Darth Vader and tell him he was his son (hopefully without the hand chopping and the rejection) or he could just let it be and not bring it up? Raven would certainly give him death glares if he did nothing. But for now, he was alone and unsure of what to do.

I had a brother

Peter removed his headphones in confusion, what was that voice? It almost felt... familiar?

His name was Pietro

The speedster froze as he heard his name, his birth name. One he hadn’t used since he was a child and his mom decided that having an Americanised name would be easier. The only person that knew it was his mom and-

No, it couldn’t be her, she had died years ago, Wendy couldn’t possibly be calling him. Just as he pushed away his hope, his room was suddenly bathed in a red glow. The very same color of his twin’s magic, or wiggly woos as he liked to call them, had been. He slowly saw a flicker of red light materializing in the middle of his floor. The flicker grew bigger and bigger, and he watched it, entranced by the magic he hadn’t seen in nearly 15 years. He couldn’t look away and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

‘Be with me...’ The voice called out to him again, sounding more desperate. He put his Walkman at his side and stepped out of his bed. On the contrary to the two other times, it hadn’t felt like someone had spoken. It was more of an involuntarily projected thought. Like his sister had sometimes done when she made a nightmare and accidentally projected it to the whole neighborhood. The portal grew bigger, and Peter felt drawn to it. He took a breath, should he follow the voice? No, definitely not. Could it kill him or harm him in any way? Most definitely. Would he let that stop him if it gave him a chance to see Wendy again? No, he had to try.

He took a step forward and was greeted by red lights wrapping over him and dragging him in the portal. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of free falling into an endless void and then Peter knew no more.

...

“Has anyone seen Peter?” Kurt asked as he walked into the cafeteria. He had expected the speedster to be eating his weight in food like he usually did in the morning, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Not sure,” answered Scott, between two bites, “but knowing the guy, he probably took a casual stroll to Europe because he wanted real crepes.”

Jean nodded in agreement and Kurt felt his worries subdue as the teen spoke. It was logical, Peter had done it quite a few times before. He would probably be back in the afternoon with stuff he had liberated and stories about whatever shenanigans he had gotten himself into. He let it go as he sat down next to Ororo and ate his own food, they talked about training and different strategies they could use for the next time they were in the danger room. Once their meal was done, Kurt went to the library, he had some reading to do. He spent the next few hours glossing through various books and accidentally scaring students when he teleported unexpectedly next to them to get a new novel. Diner time was approaching, and the mutant realized that Peter still wasn’t back. Fearing for the safety of his friend, he teleported himself in the main hall, where the professor usually was around that time. As expected, he was talking to Raven. He walked up to him as the professor turned around.

“Are you alright? I can hear your worry without any effort on my part.”

“It’s Peter, I think he’s missing,” declared Kurt with a grave look. The professor shared a glance with Raven before turning his wheelchair around and motioning forward.

“Come with me.”

...

Charles, like any sane human, was very concerned when Kurt shared his worries. He telepathically called the rest of the team to the briefing room, perhaps together they’d be able to solve this mystery. Once everyone had arrived, he filled them in and asked each of them when was the last time they had seen the speedster. Both Ororo and Kurt had seen him at diner the day before and Scott had seen his silver blur when he found himself suddenly covered in silly string and Jean laughing at him. No one had seen or sensed anything anormal about his behavior. Charles had then concluded that Cerebro should be used to try and locate him. Concentrating on the different mutants, he found no trace of him, no one had seen or heard him. No report of unexplainable disappearance of twinkies or records either. He removed the helmet with a sigh and exited the room. His disappointment must have been obvious because everyone suddenly started worrying, their thoughts all meddling in and all about their missing teammate.

“What if we went to check his room? Suggested Raven. “If that’s the last place he was, there might be clues there that might help.”

They all agreed, all hopeful that a logical and harmless reason was behind his sudden disappearance. The walk was a short one and the tension in the air was almost palpable, as if they were all expecting Peter to be sitting on his bed, laughing at them for worrying so much. When Scott opened the door, no such pleasure took place, it was unbearably empty. After combing his room for clues, the only positive thing they could think of was that there were no runaway notes, and the Walkman wasn’t there. That meant that Peter probably left willingly. Charles brought a hand to his face, deep in thoughts, he didn’t notice Jean stepping forward.

“Professor,” she said absently, “there’s this... strange energy.” She walked to the very middle of the room with her eyes closed and her palm stretched open. “Here. Something happened right here.”

The professor wheeled himself to his student and closed his eyes in concentration, trying to feel what Jean was perceiving. He frowned when he sensed nothing, “Are you sure?”

The redhead nodded, “yes, I can almost make out... voices? It’s hard to see.”

The room was quiet, no one seemed to know what to do. That is, until the white-haired teen spoke up. “Cerebro,” Ororo declared. She sighed when everyone looked at her confusedly, “she could show us what she sees with the machine. As far as I know, it amplifies powers.”

The professor looked at Raven, feeling ridiculous for not thinking about it before. He ordered Jean to make sure to keep the connection as everyone walked back to the room that kept Cerebro. They held their breath in anticipation as she put on the helmet and concentrated even harder. For a few seconds, nothing happened. They were about to admit defeat when piano was suddenly heard throughout the room, followed by, what seemed to be a 1950s sitcom. They all watched in silence as the footage unfolded in front of them.

‘Oh, a newlywed couple just moved to town

A regular husband and wife’

Scott snorted at that remark, “sure, a normal couple where the husband needs to hide his face from the neighbors.” Ororo smiled at his joke before focusing on the screen once again.

‘Who left the big city to find a quiet life’

The team froze as the woman made a ‘sold’ sticker appear on the sign at the front of their house. They continued watching as the husband walked through the door, without his bride. He opened it and took her in his arms again, passing through the sofa as the lyrics chanted.

‘WandaVision!

She’s a magical gal in a small-town locale

He’s a hubby who’s part machine

How will this duo fit in and pull through?

By sharing a love like you’ve never seen

WandaVision!’

The song ended with them sharing a kiss and then the episode started. But the group didn’t focus on it, instead, they all looked at Charles for answers as the woman was identified as Wanda Maximoff. Jean paused the transmission, seemingly in control of the broadcast.

“What does this mean? Is she a mutant?”

If he was honest with himself, the professor had no clue, it did look like a normal sitcom, complete with practical effect, but it didn’t make sense. How could the energy responsible for Peter’s disappearance lead to this? The woman couldn’t simply be a normal actress, the very concept of the show was too strange for it to be a coincidence. And then there was her name: Wanda Maximoff. It had to mean something.

“Does...” started Raven, looking as confused as everyone else. “Does Peter have a sister named Wanda?”

Jean got up from the chair as she removed the helmet. “He did mention a sister, but she’s about ten years younger, her name was Lorna, I think?”

Ororo and Kurt nodded in agreement. Still, that didn’t answer the question. Who was this Wanda and what role had she played in Peter’s disappearance? Or did she have nothing to do with it and she was a victim as well? They decided to continue the broadcast, perhaps playing it would reveal some answers.

They quickly learned that it truly was a stereotypical 1950s sitcom, minus all the magic. The classic misinterpreted conversation gag was the main plot point, which lead to a strange encounter with the husband’s boss. It also turned out that the android, Vision as he called himself, could change his appearance to look human. They all felt uneasy as the couple was questioned about their past, the boss getting angrier and angrier. Suddenly, he began to choke on something, and the camera plans became all wrong and the wife kept telling her husband to stop being silly, but he continued choking. Nobody seemed to be able to do anything. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the robot saved his boss, which apparently marked the end of scene for these two characters. They left quickly which both Wanda and Vision were relived about. Interestingly, they constructed their past and the episode ended.

As the credit rolled, the team was meet with a thousand questions and not many answers. Everyone was silent, but Charles could feel their thoughts racing through their heads, they were all confused.

“So... they’re all trapped?” Intervened Ororo. “Because it was obvious that neither Wanda or Vision had any idea what they were doing there and what their past was.”

The professor let his eyes examine the credits, it truly made no sense. They were only credited as their character names, did that meant that they were playing themselves? They didn’t seem forced to love one another, but they did seem on the run from something. Perhaps the creepy commercial had something to do with whatever danger they were escaping.

Kurt’s voice was what broke him from his thoughts. “Are there any other episodes?”

Jean sat down again and put the helmet back on, clearly exhausted from the previous episode. She concentrated for a few seconds before shaking her head.

“I can’t see anything, but I might just be tired.”

She removed the helmet and Scott held out a hand to help her up. Everyone walked back to their own room, promising to start searching for solutions in the morning.

...

It had been a few days since the first episode had been discovered. Hank had made adjustments to the machine so it could be broadcasted at any time and without the need for Jean to be there. He also made sure that they would be alerted if another episode were shown. The scientist had also been the one to suggest that they should be tracking the signal to its source. Perhaps this Wanda woman could lead them to their missing teammate. The only downside was that he needed Jean to work with him since she could feel the energy and determine if it was the right frequency.

That’s what the pair were doing, under Charles supervision, when the screen surrounding Cerebro suddenly light up. He mentally called the others, and they were in the room just as the episode started. Nothing much happened other than the magic show, and a bad cut when the radio glitched. There were also the creepy cultish way people kept repeating “for the children” but it might have been 60s idea of humor. Other than that, everything seemed fine. They were now back at their house when the woman got up and was suddenly pregnant.

“I might be behind on the human body,” interrupted Kurt, clearly lost, “but doesn’t it take longer than a few minutes for a baby to grow that size?”

Charles kept looking at the screen, he was now convinced that this woman wasn’t just a normal human. A banging outside the couple’s house frightened them and they ran outside. The X-Men watched in astonishment as a beekeeper slowly emerged out of the sewers under the scared eyes of the pair. When the unknown man suddenly turned his head, the professor watched in stunned silence as the camera was once again in the woman’s face, who seemed more determined than ever.

“No,” Wanda said.

There was a rewind effect, and the couple was back in their living room, acting as if nothing happened. Then the screen changed from black and white to full color. The team was surprised to see the man was bright red and the woman had hair a similar shade to Jean. The episode ended with them watching tv. Nobody talked for awhile, they weren’t sure what they just witnessed. Was the woman aware of what was happening? If she was trapped, it was obvious she had a certain control over her environment. Could it be a prison that she was kept in for everyone’s safety? How was Peter involved with this woman?

“What are your theories?” Asked the professor to his surrounding students.

“I think she’s the one controlling it,” intervened Scott. “The rewind showed us that much.”

“Yeah, but she was just as lost last episode, what if she got trapped there by accident and acts on instinct to protect herself?” Raven argued.

“I don’t think it’s just a show,” interrupted Hank, walking forward to the commands. He was looking over the part where the radio had glitched, playing the part just before the bad cut. “There’s someone calling to her. I think we might be viewing a parallel universe.”

Scott stepped in closer to Jean and took her hand, making sure she was alright before turning to Hank. “A parallel universe? Is that even possible?”

Charles sighed, “we don’t know the extent of this woman’s power, perhaps she is able to broadcast her life without knowing it.”

A sudden gasp from Jean made everyone turn to her. She was grasping her head in pain, using Scott as a way to stabilize herself. “There’s another transmission!” She screamed as the screens lit up once again.

They were now in the 70s, both of the couple’s hair had changed to fit the era. They watched as the pregnancy took all but one day to get to full term. The inconveniences of being pregnant were covered up by silly jokes and puns, such as showing that her water broke by the sprinklers activating. As Vision was off to get the doctor, Wanda was distracted by the doorbell and the woman she had met last episode came in. She was, of course, oblivious to the pregnancy. It went by quickly, Wanda tried to hide her belly as she could but then she went into labor. Geraldine helped her deliver the first child as Vision came back. The X-Men all frowned as it was revealed that she still had another child on the way.

‘Twins, a clever way to fix the name discourse,’ thought Charles to himself.

Wanda was now watching over the twins, her friend walked over, congratulating her on the sudden birth of not one but two babies.

“I’m a twin”

A quiet “what” was heard from Scott, Charles saw him look around, probably wondering if he had heard right.

“I had a brother. His name was... Pietro,” the redhead seemed lost in thoughts as she began to sing to her boys in a language they couldn’t understand. The group was stunned as they watched her rock her babies. The professor was feeling all kinds of weird; did she mean Peter? Had she killed him for the sake of a plot point?

“He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?”

Charles felt slight relief, perhaps it didn’t have anything to do with the speedster, because he was alive and well as far as he knew. Perhaps the brother’s name was a simple coincidence.

They watched in muted horror as Wanda turned to her friend, asking her to explain herself. Geraldine played dumb, but it was obvious that it was just a cover up. The woman was aware of the sitcom world. The confrontation escalated to a point where both were hostile to each other. Both trying to get answers. The tension was immense and when it seemed like something horrible would actually happen- Nothing did. There was another cut and then Wanda was once again watching the twins, alone this time.

After the strange talk Vision had with their neighbor, he ran back in, asking his wife about Geraldine’s whereabouts.

“Oh, she left, honey,” Wanda said in a sing song voice, “she had to rush home.”

The camera focused on her face, showing her eyes that had a slight glint of determination. It was no doubt she had gotten rid of her neighbor. They briefly talked about leaving, something Wanda didn’t seem keen on and the episode ended with them watching television with their children in their arms.

“What... the... hell?” Came Raven’s voice. The others had to agree, it was by far the most unsettling episode they had seen. Charles was asking himself the same question as everyone else in the room. Was Wanda the true villain?

[incorrectlumityquotes]

FULL REVIEWS: “Wing It Like Witches”

Damn, that last episode was something. It was so much of something that the hype for this episode didn’t come until after they released a screenshot of Amity in the grudgby uniform. Everyone predicted that this was the episode that had Amity join The Owl House squad and...they were right. 

The Lumity Trilogy ends with a sports balls game.

The cold open starts with Boscha of all people. 

It’s grudgby season again and all I can think of is “Wow how lucky is Luz to enroll in Hexside during the semester where shit happens.” Is the first semester the boring one with no holidays and/or events?

Anyway, I grew up in South Texas where high school football was treated like the biggest deal. I get why Boscha is being treated the way she is, and so does she.

Boscha goes to school expecting a hero’s welcome, but gets pissed when the attention is given to Willow.

Willow tells Luz that ever since she patched things up with Amity, she’s been feeling more confident. That’s really good character development. Without her resentment toward Amity (who was her oldest friend), Willow feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. All that hate and sadness was bringing her down, but without it, she’s free to blossom. 

I don’t mean to quote Penn & Teller but, “And then there’s this asshole.”

Boscha is so not okay with Willow being happy with herself and just picks on her harder. Especially since it’s grudgby season and she knows she can get away with it. 

Amity tells her to grow the fuck up, and Boscha lets it slip that ever since grom Amity has been “getting soft.” This does fucking nothing since Boscha literally spends all day following Willow and friends all day picking on them like crazy. Like damn bitch, don’t you have anything else do do? Don’t you have any life outside of Willow’s?

People ask why I don’t ship Willow and Boscha and this is why. I get enemies to lovers. I get the bully becoming the love interest. Hell, it’s happening with Amity right now. But this is too needlessly cruel for my taste. There’s not way the Defeat Equals Friendship trope is going to work here. Not for me. But hope comes in the form of a useless lesbian.

Amity literally gay panics after getting ‘nam flashbacks of dancing with the girl she likes in the moonlight. Luz asks Amity for help about Boscha, and based on Amity’s answer, I don’t think Amity has ever liked Boscha. She agrees that Boscha is difficult to tolerate. It’s even worse during grudgby season because it becomes all the thinks about. Luz gets the wrong idea from that.

After literally pelting Willow with garbage, Luz challenges Boscha to a grudgby match for Willow. Again Luz’s character flaw of overstepping her bounds comes back. She never even considers what Willow might want or the fact that Willow has never even played grudgby before in her life. And that’s when another of Luz’s character flaws comes back hard. This time it’s Luz expecting life to play out like a story, or more specifically, a sports movie.

Holy crap. Is that the thorn-vault? I’ve never noticed that before.

Luz thinks that if they just try really hard they’ll beat someone who has been excelling at the sport for years. No. That’s not how life works, sweetie. I’m starting to think that maybe Luz’s mom was on to something sending her to camp.

Luz manages to convince Willow and Gus to be on board, but Amity...

She’ll be in her bunk.

Meanwhile in the B-plot (that should be my t-shirt by now), Eda is talking about her time when she was star player of her grudgby team when Lilith makes an unexpected appearance to arrest Eda. Lilith notices that Eda is wearing her old ass grudgby uniform and Eda’s response made me laugh.

“No reason. It’s laundry day.”

Lilith gives Eda a quick reality check to remind her that while Eda was good...

Lilith was better.

This photo really confused me and took me a while to realize that that was Eda and Lilith. Lilith gave herself a serious make over after school. Straightened her hair, darkened it, got ride of the glasses. I didn’t even recognize her. 

Since we all got grudgby on the brain, Eda makes a bet. She’ll go with Lilith to The Emperor peacefully if she can beat her in a game of grudgby. Luz is always pulling stuff like this and it works out for her, so why not? Speaking of which.

Willow and Gus teach Luz about grudgby. Luz teaches Willow and Gus about montages and it does not go well at all. The grudgby, I mean. The montage was great. 

In fact it’s so bad that Willow confronts Luz about the thing I was just talking about earlier. You can’t just shonen hero through all your problems. Willow and Gus give up and just leave.

I hate comparing shows because I believe they should stand on their own, but this really does remind me of when Lotte got mad at Akko in Little Witch Academia: The Enchanted Parade. Being innocently insensitive plus expecting life to play out like a movie is not a good combo. 

Luz and Amity have a heart to heart. Luz’s character flaws do come from a place love. Willow is one of the best friend’s she’s ever had and it hurts to watch her get picked on. She’s not trying to make things worse but growing up on a diet of movies and cartoons, this is the only thing she can think of.

Amity reveals that she actually used to be a jock. No joke. She was the captain of the grudgby team before Boscha. But Amity decided to make the game all about her and her teammates got hurt. So felt so bad that she never played again. Amity is rough around the edges, but deep down she’s always cared about people.

Another gay panic later, and Luz gets the right idea this time. Luz forfeits the game and agrees to take all of Willow’s punishment so that Boscha will stop picking on her.

Bitch, works for me! Think fast!

Amity senses the obvious and immediate danger and goes for help. She reminds Willow and Gus that Luz always has good intentions and needs help because that’s what friends do.

This isn’t about “friendship” is it?

Gus and Willow show up to save Luz but you need three on a team. And in true sports movie fashion, the hero arrives in the eleventh hour to save the team. I.E. the only player who is actually good at the game gives the good guys a chance to win.

Let’s get it on!

It’s game on and for a bunch of nerds the game is actually pretty competitive. It’s a magic sport, so Willow focuses on the magic while Amity focuses on the sport. Luz being Luz, even congratulates the other players when they score. Luz discovers every RPG players favorite spell, fire. 

It looks like our heroes pull off the victory in true sports movie fashion when this happens.

I stand by what I said last time. Someone on The Owl House thinks Harry Potter is really fucking stupid. Boscha catches the rusty smidge which means she automatically wins and Luz let’s out two decades of Harry Potter frustration.

But she has a point. If the golden snitch gives your team 150 points and ends the game then the only way to play would be to play defensively and focus all your efforts on finding the snitch. It means there’s literally only one decent way to play the game if you want to win.

“That just invalidates all our efforts! If catching that thing is so important, why do anything else!? There’s no reason to watch any of the other players! THAT’S SUCH A STUPID RULE!”

You tell them, Luz.

But in a twist that everyone saw coming, all the other players (Skara, Cat, Amelie) all had so much fun playing that they invite Willow to join the team. Willow politely declines because Boscha.

But we can’t have Amity help with the season finale so she hurt her leg. Amity panics at the thought of Luz carrying her, so of course Luz picks her up.

“Oh. Wow. Sports.”

Speaking of sports.

It’s game on at The Owl House and Lilith and Eda have a one on one match that’s really close. Eda decides to cheat her way to victory until.

Dammit, Luz!

Eda wins and Lilith vows to return.

The episode ends with Amity joining the fam at The Owl House.

FINAL SCORE: 5 - LOVED IT!

This episode was the best of fun episodes combined with the development of Amity episodes and you get probably my favorite episode. This was so fun and touched on most of the major characters. Even the B-plot is important because now Lilith knows the location of The Owl House. The jokes were funny. It was cute. Just everything.

The Lumity Trilogy ends on a high note. Amity is officially crushing hard on Luz. 

[clonecest-bin-account]

300 followers bingo - Fox/Wolffe | Pirates AU

(Oof this came out way longer than I thought, you’ll soon see why. Hope you like it!)

As Fox and the rest of his troops inspect the site of the wreckage, the only thing he finds are dead men. Whatever has caused the Dread Wolf to finally sink must’ve done a pretty good job at it.

He can’t help but to think that it’s a shame, despite the fact that the Dread Wolf, and especially its captain, have been a thorn to his side for years, hindering the commerce with their incursions. King Palpatine had even declared by law that any act of piracy will be punishable by death, but that never stopped the crew of the Dread Wolf.

Still, Fox won’t lie and say that he never enjoyed the thrill of the chase, that sometimes he even looked forward to the Dread Wolf’s incursions, so he’d get his chance to duel the only man who he could ever consider his rival.

And now…

 That lucky son of a whore.

 The man Fox has just found on the shore it’s the same man that he was talking about: here he is - alive and breathing - the master of the Dread Wolfe, captain Wolffe himself - Fox has always wondered which name came first, the ship’s of the captain’s.

How he’s still alive, this Fox doesn’t know, but in the end, it’s not like it matters: now that he’s found him, he will arrest him, and then he’ll be sentenced to death. Either that, or he’ll rot in prison if the king feels merciful - if that can be either considered a mercy.

It’s his duty to take him in custody, to make him pay for his crime… and yet, Fox still hasn’t moved a muscle.

He can’t, he just can’t…

 What’s stopping him from fulfilling his duty?

It’s his damn honor, that’s what it is: last time they’ve met, he and his crew had ambushed the ship Fox was in, but he let Fox go despite the fact that he could’ve easily taken him down, only taking the goods the ship was transporting before leaving.

He could’ve easily killed him, but he didn’t, and now Fox can’t bring himself to apprehend him like he’s supposed to do.

… Damn it all!

 Before he can be joined by the rest of the royal guard, he takes Wolffe’s unconscious body and drags him behind a group of rocks so that he’ll be hidden, then he goes back to the site of the wreckage, deleting every trace of something being dragged to safety.

Thankfully, both for Wolffe and himself because, if someone finds out, Fox will be hanged for betrayal, he manages to do it before everybody else arrives.

“Found anything?” Thorn, his second in command, asks him.

“Nothing of interest,” Fox replies. “Just other wrecks of the ship.” He truly hopes that Thorn will not see behind his lies; out of everyone, he’s the person who knows him the most.

Thorn nods, thoughtful. “Yeah… Most men must’ve drowned. It’ll take some time before all of them wash up to the shore, if the fish don’t eat them first.”

Fox frowns at the image, but he supposes that Thorn is correct, which makes it plausible that they wouldn’t see Wolffe’s body. And Fox didn’t even need to advance that hypothesis himself, so he’ll look less suspicious for it.

At that point he sighs, gaze moving from the wreckage to Thorn. “If we’re done here, let’s move out. The sun’s setting, we’ll get back tomorrow morning.”

At those words, they all snap to attention. “Yessir!”

 --

Once he can take advantage of the cover of the night, Fox comes back to the site of the wreckage, thinking about how dead he is at each step. He shouldn’t be doing this, and yet here he is.

He finds Wolffe still unconscious, which does worry a bit, but he’s well aware that he can’t exactly bring him to a doctor, so all he can do is to find him a secure place where he can rest, and hopefully get well. If he needs to, he can bring him medicine… Wait, why is he thinking so far ahead? And also, why should he even buy stuff for him? Isn’t it enough that he’s giving him shelter?

Oh well, he can think about this later. Now he needs to take him somewhere safe, which, he regrets to admit, could be only one location: his house.

 “Jesus how much do you weigh?” he mutters under his breath as he drapes one of Wolffe’s arms around his shoulders so that he can pull him up and drag him to what will be his temporary hideout.

The more he keeps going, the less he feels this is worth it, but he’s gone too far to stop now. He’s taken a decision and he’ll go along with it until the bitter end.

  --

When Wolffe wakes up, the first thing that comes to mind is how much everything hurts. He doesn’t remember going into a drunken blender the previous day, so that can’t be it…

In a flash, he remembers everything: the storm, their desperate attempts to stir the ship… the wreckage.

He jolts up, or well he would’ve done it if one of his wrists wasn’t bound to the headboard of the bed he somehow finds himself laid upon. Panicked, he raises his gaze to observe what is keeping him there; it’s a simple handcuff, but he knows by the looks of it that he can’t smash it, not without some dull object.

And yet, despite the knowledge, his mind is too fuzzy with panic for him to act accordingly; he tugs on the handcuff, then he tries again, and again, but to no avail.

He begins looking around for something he can use, when a weight presses against his shoulders, forcing him down. “Don’t. Move.”

 You can imagine his surprise when he sees that the man over him is Fox, commander of the king’s guard himself.

At that, he tries to shake him off, to free himself even harder than he was doing before, which ends up with Fox reacting by pinning him down by the wrists. “For fuck’s sake, Wolffe, I’m trying to help you here!”

“And how exactly are you helping me?” Wolffe growls back. “Looks like you took me prisoner!”

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what you would’ve done when you woke up!” Fox retorts. “I wasn’t going to leave you unguarded and alone…”

Silence falls between the two, tense at first, but then Wolffe - and consequently Fox - begins to relax, until Fox speaks again. “I found you in the midst of what remained of your ship, and since you spared me once, I’m returning the favor. If you promise me you’re not going to make a mess, I’m going to uncuff you.”

 Oh.

This is unexpected. Did Fox really do it?

No, it’s impossible, he must be lying!

… Right?

 And yet, for some reason, he finds himself inclined to believe him, because he knows that, unlike many of his companions, Fox keeps his word. It’s one of the reasons why he enjoys dueling with him and why he respects him despite the fact that he’s the king’s dog.

Despite everything, he nods, then. “I promise,” he tells Fox, intending not to betray his trust. If it’s true that he saved him, it’s the least he can do.

Fox looks at him for a moment, probably pondering if he should trust him or not, but in the end he decides to free him, so he slowly goes to unlock the handcuff that is keeping Wolffe to his bed with the key he was keeping in his pocket.

Once he’s free, Wolffe pushes him off, but otherwise he doesn’t seem to do anything else except sit and massage his sore wrist. Just how long has he been like this? He’s afraid to ask.

 Silence falls between them, even as Fox sits beside him. In normal circumstances, they would have nothing to do with each other, so it makes sense that they wouldn’t be exactly inclined to talk to each other, and yet, Wolffe has to ask…

“Was there any other survivor?”

Fox sighs. He was expecting this question. “Not that I know of,” he replies, then, figuring that for this kind of stuff, sugarcoating it would’ve been useless.

Wolffe lowers his gaze as a heavy silence settles between them. He looks so miserable but unwilling to show it that Fox almost feels the urge to try to reassure him, but he doesn’t, knowing that no matter what he says, it wouldn’t make it all better like some kind of magic.

Eventually, the atmosphere is so heavy that Fox can’t stomach staying there anymore. “I-I’m going to bring you something to eat,” he mutters. “Stay here.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room, towards the kitchen. Watching the state Wolffe is in now makes him wonder if it wouldn’t have been more merciful to just kill him, but it’s not like he can go back on his decision now; it’s way too late for that.

  --

With time Wolffe’s body begins to heal, and he finds himself with more and more energy. The same can’t be said about his mind, however, not when this all still feels like a nightmare to him.

Did he really lose all his men? No, it can’t be, and yet he knows that Fox is not lying - what reason would he have to do that when he’s gone all the way to rescue him and not send him to prison immediately?

What should he do, now? What even is he anymore? A captain without neither a ship, nor a crew.

Why did he even survive? Why did Fox take pity on him?

He should’ve just let him die…

  --

Fox is… surprisingly cordial to him.

At first Wolffe found it weird, unnatural even - they’re supposed to be enemies, not this - and yet he can’t help but to be appreciative of the effort Fox is doing not to antagonize him, just as much as Wolffe tries to do the same, knowing that if he crosses him, he risks losing this safe harbor.

Once he heals more, he’s even allowed to explore Fox’s house, though of course he’s confined to his room whenever the commander has guests; it’s in their best interest that he remains hidden.

He still thinks Fox is a fucking dog, but… he’s not so bad, after all.

 Living in such close quarters has made him discover parts of him that he wouldn’t even have known about otherwise, like that he hates sweets except from honeyed stuff, that he’s very particular about what to wear - he has to appear perfect always - and that he has a secret soft spot for cats - he must’ve forgotten that Wolffe was inside when he took a weak stray inside to feed him and then let it go outside once it was strong enough to move again.

He supposes that Fox has found out some things about him as well, like the fact that he snores in his sleep, something that he complains about quite often, that he likes meat and that he’s unexpectedly good at flower arrangement, demonstrated when Fox didn’t know what to do for the guard’s doctor’s birthday; he suggested he could give her a bouquet that she could keep in her study, and even helped him arrange some flowers.

“Where did you learn?” Fox asks, dumbfounded by this. It makes him wonder why he didn’t open a flowers shop instead of becoming a pirate; at least he would’ve had an honest work.

“That’s a secret,” Wolffe replies, winking.

 They both freeze, at that. Did Wolffe just…

This easy camaraderie shouldn’t be possible between them, and yet here they are, acting like a pair of friends.

It’s weird, just… yes, weird.

Maybe they shouldn’t get so close to each other.

  --

Fox has lost count of how many nights he’s spent without being able to fall asleep because of Wolffe.

To be fair, he can’t exactly blame him for something that, after all, isn’t in his control, but this nightmare business hurts both of them.

He should do something about it, but what? He’s no expert in this matter, and he doubts he has what it gets to calm him down.

 A sigh escapes his lips as he gets up from his bed.

Before he can change his mind, he makes it to the guest room.

 He finds Wolffe twisting and turning in his bed without any hope of stopping soon.

Fox’s gaze is sad as he looks at him. If he lost his entire battalion, would he be the same? Would he be able to pull through? He doesn’t know…

He’s always had the feeling that Wolffe was pretty close to his crew, definitely closer than he is with the king’s guard, but it would still hurt, even though not as much.

 He almost reaches for Wolffe, before having a last minute hesitation; they say that you shouldn’t wake up people who are having a nightmare, so shouldn’t he just let it pass? But he feels bad not doing anything!

In the end he decides to put an end to his suffering, and he shakes him.

He was expecting Wolffe to jolt awake in a violent manner, but he wasn’t expecting him to actually attack him, though in hindsight he should’ve known this was going to happen - he would’ve probably done the same. Wolffe punches him, then he even tries to choke him, but Fox grabs his hands, keeping him still.

“Wolffe…” he says, voice weirdly soft, as he tries his best to keep the other at bay. “It’s me… Wolffe… Stop!”

At that, Wolffe freezes and let’s Fox go. “Fox…”

“It’s fine,” Fox hurries to say, trying to be reassuring. “It’s fine…”

 He doesn’t know how it happens exactly - he must’ve been so shocked that he barely registered it - but here they are with Wolffe held in Fox’s arms as he sobs quietly - or at least he tries to do it - while Fox caresses his hair in a silent attempt to bring him some comfort. He’d say something, but first of all he’s afraid of ruining things by running his mouth and potentially saying something that would turn out to be the wrong thing, secondly, he doesn’t even know what to say.

Saying something like “it’s fine” feels disingenuous at best, outright insulting at worst. No, it’s not fine, and who knows if it’ll ever be; he won’t lie to Wolffe like that, so he just keeps holding it, wondering if there even is a point to this, if this is actually helping.

 He wasn’t expecting Wolffe to drag him down for a kiss.

These last few weeks have been full of stuff he wasn’t expecting, but this has to take the cake. Most unexpected of all, though, it’s the fact that he finds himself returning the kiss, that when Wolffe falls down on the bed, taking him with him, he goes along without batting an eye.

He feels his hands on his body and he doesn’t push him away, doesn’t try to stop him. Actually, he welcomes every move.

Weirdly enough, he feels like he’s been waiting for this to happen, but he has not, hasn’t he?

  --

It’s not the first night they spend like this. After the first, it’s like something has changed inside them, a burning desire for the other that can be hardly satisfied.

In a way it’s not that different from when they’d constantly seek each other out in battle, only that now their duels are of a very different kind.

 With this, however, a feeling of dread keeps hanging over Fox’s shoulders: he’s aware of what would happen to him - and Wolffe too - if they get caught, and the more Wolffe stays with him, the more likely it’s to happen.

Eventually, he’ll have to let him go, and Wolffe, well, he’ll go back to what he used to do, he supposes. If he managed to make a name for himself out there, he can do it again - besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have allies in the pirating business that would surely help him out.

Despite this, however, he finds himself unwilling to let Wolffe leave. For once, he wants to be selfish…

  --

Things change on one night, a night that Fox has no intention of spending at home. He has too much to think about, and feels the need for some fresh air.

Besides, it’s been a while since he let himself be seen outside beside his duties; he wouldn’t want people to think that something’s up…

It’s weird, in a way, being so far from Wolffe…

 Eh, look at him. Some shitty king’s guard he makes.

 Before he has the time to react, he’s pulled into a dark alleyway, showed against the wall by two men that, on a more attentive exam, are two people that Fox didn’t even think were alive: Wolffe’s right-hand men, Boost and Sinker.

“Good evening, Foxie…” Sinker greets him with a grin, using the nickname that he knows makes Fox growl in fury, which in fact he does. He hates being called like that.

Boost, on the other hand, doesn’t share Sinker’s playful behavior. “Tell us where you’re keeping Wolffe locked up and we might not gut you like the dog you are,” he growls, pushing a knife against Fox’s throat, though Fox looks unimpressed.

“Very classy, like always,” he replies in fact, but that’s not all he has to say, even though he doubts it’ll help. “And, for your information, Wolffe is with me, and not locked in a cell.”

Boost and Sinker look at each other, and Fox knows already that this is going to be a looooong night.

  --

Somehow he’s convinced them to come with him and see with their eyes, though they’re still wary of him, enough that, if he makes the wrong move, they’re going to gut him. It’s fair, he would do the same in their situation, he supposes.

He can’t lie: he’s surprised to see that there have been other survivors, considering what they have found. It makes him wonder how exactly they managed to hide from them, but when he tried to ask they shut him down immediately. It’s fine, he doesn’t care about it that much - liar and hypocrite.

 At least Wolffe will be happy to see them…

  --

Just as he thought, as soon as Wolffe sees Sinker and Boost with Fox, he runs towards them, just like the other two as soon as they see their captain alive and well. They meet halfway, almost colliding into each other for the excessive speed.

“I can’t believe it…” Wolffe mutters, drawing the two into a tight hug. “You’re alive!”

“We are!” Sinker tearfully replies. “And you! You are���!”

“So he wasn’t lying after all,” Boost mutters, turning towards Fox, who sagely doesn’t say anything despite how much he wants to retort to that, since he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. Actually, maybe he should leave, let them have a moment.

Before he can do that, though, he hears Wolffe scold Boost. “Don’t say that! He… He helped me quite a lot. He saved me, in fact.”

 Yes, they’re all surprised at that admission, even Fox, despite the fact that he’s gotten used to the idea that yes, he did save him. Still, it’s weird to hear it directly from Wolffe’s ears.

“I… I should go. Give you some time alone,” he’s able to mutter, before retreating to the kitchen.

 Coward…

  --

When he hears the sounds of steps, he pokes out to see Boost and Sinker on their way to the main door.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“None of your business,” Boost states, and after that, he walks out of Fox’s room, leaving Sinker lingering on the exit, but he still hasn’t moved.

He looks at Fox and he seems… hesitant, for some reason?

“Hey,” he begins, “… Thank you, for saving Wolffe.”

Fox’s old instincts push to retort that he hasn’t done it for them, but what would that accomplish? Nothing at all. If anything, it would be detrimental.

“It’s nothing…” he mutters, barely loud enough to be understood. Sinker looks at him, expression hard to read, then he leaves as well.

  --

He doesn’t go to Wolffe immediately, afraid of what he’d see in him once he lays his gaze upon him: the happiness he must be feeling for having found some of his old crewmates and… the desire to leave.

Here he is again, being a selfish fuck. He shouldn’t be like this, and he knows that eventually he will have to let him go - he can’t continue this charade forever, and it’s important for both their lives that Wolffe leaves - but he can’t deny that it will hurt having to do that.

To think that that feared day might come soon…

 He shakes his head, trying to get a hold of himself.

In the end, he got attached to Wolffe, something that he shouldn’t have done, something that is dangerous.

A sigh escapes his lips. Well, it’s not like he can do anything about it now, can’t he?

  --

When he goes to Wolffe, he does indeed look the happiest Fox has seen him since he’s saved him.

When Fox steps into the bedroom, he finds him sitting on his bed, but as soon as Wolffe notices his presence he walks up to him and he kisses him with a fervor that he never used before. Fox, although surprised by such an initiative, especially now, can only submit to the attentions, and so doesn’t object when Wolffe walks him to the bed and pushes him onto him, following suit.

He keeps him close and he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him and takes him until Fox feels like he’s drowning, but eh, if he has to be honest, this wouldn’t be a bad way to go…

  --

“So… Are you leaving?” Fox asks. He’s waited until he and Wolffe were done, and what better way to ask than now, while they’re both still recovering lying one beside the other? Sure, he might sour the mood, but Fox needs to know.

“… Yes,” Wolffe replies, suspiciously cautious. Is he hiding something?

There are many things Fox would like to say, so many that it creates such a mess in his mind that he just nods without actually uttering a thing. He has much to think about after all.

Apparently, Wolffe is of the same vein, because he keeps quiet as well. It’s like all the enthusiasm from before has vanished, leaving space to quiet contemplation.

Fox would do anything to know what he’s thinking about; he could ask, but he feels like if he does, he’d only make Wolffe less willing to share. No, he’s got to wait, admitting that Wolffe will share the conclusions he’ll reach after this moment.

 He’s lucky, because soon, after a long sigh that doesn’t preannounce anything good, he turns toward Fox, a determined and serious look in his eyes.

“Come with me.”

Fox, taken off guard by such a request, can only reply with a “Where?” before mentally slapping himself. As if it’s not obvious where he wants him to go. “I can’t,” he quickly adds then, shaking his head.

“Why?” Wolffe asks.

Fox doesn’t know what to say; wouldn’t it be too easy to just leave his life behind, and for what even, exactly? No, he can’t do it, no matter how much he’d want to. “I…”

 He wants to leave.

The realization hits him like a punch in the gut.

This is his life, what he worked hard to obtain. He has friends, here, people he cares about… and yet, he wants to leave them all behind.

He can’t deny how tired he’s got of everything. The kingdom’s falling into pieces and he seems to be the only one who has noticed it. Is this why he wants to leave?

Yes, but also not entirely: these weeks spent with Wolffe have been special for Fox. He’s never felt more alive than in the company of the same man who’s lying down with him, at his side.

To be able to leave with him… It would be a dream…

 “What’s stopping you?”

 Fear, Fox realizes. Fear is what’s stopping him.

Leaving with Wolffe would be such a drastic change from his usual life that he can’t help but to feel paralyzed at the prospect. How could he even get used to it? And if he regrets the change?

On the other hand, however, wouldn’t he regret not leaving? Wouldn’t he regret not following Wolffe? Yes, he would.

He can’t lie: he feels a certain thrill at the idea of living a criminal life with his beloved, but could it really become more than just a fantasy? Could they make it work?

 He wants to make it work.

Yes, Fox wants this to work, he wants to be free and happy with Wolffe, and that won’t happen until they leave.

 He takes Wolffe’s face between his hands and he kisses him, then he kisses him again and again, but when they pull away, he seems to be talking more to himself than to the other.

“Yes… Nothing’s stopping me.” He can leave if he wants - and he wants it. Nothing’s stopping him…

He looks back at Wolffe and every shadow of doubt is gone from his face. If he lets this occasion slip through his fingers, he’ll never forgive himself, he knows it.

Wolffe looks at him expectantly. “So that means…”

“Yes,” Fox says, “let’s do it.”

  --

If you told Fox that one day he was going to find himself running away from the kingdom he’s served since he has memory, following his archnemesis turned lover, he would’ve laughed at you and then thrown you into jail. Funny how some things change, huh?

Here he is now, looking at his house one last time, before leaving it - and his previous life - forever behind.

There’s still some space - a very tiny one - for doubt in his head, but he’s made up his mind: he’s going to live his life to the fullest, and in order to do that, he needs to leave. Wolffe will surely show him a new side of life that he didn’t even know existed, Fox is certain of it.

 He turns around, looking at Wolffe, who’s standing behind him, waiting for him to say goodbye to his old life.

When he notices Fox’s gaze on him, he sends him an interrogative gaze. “Ready?” he asks.

Fox stays silent. He walks up to Wolffe, taking his hand once he’s close enough and raising it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

“Yes, let’s leave this place.”

 He’s made up his mind, and nothing can stop him.

[teamxdark]

I still want to post anything at all so. Here's the first unedited chapter of SatCK.

Also, once it's done, would people rather it all be posted at once, or a chapter a day? Let me know!

The clouds loomed low, obscuring the sun and showering the world in gray as a lone raven landed on the bones of a long-dead animal. He tapped his beak to the skull, as though to test the hardiness of the material, his eyes flashing with what might have been a sense of superiority before he looked back at the empty dirt path that cut through the grass and took off into the air.

The path did not remain empty for long; a girl ran along it just a moment later, her long purple cloak drawn closely over herself and her boots kicking up dust as she ran. In her hands, she clutched a staff tightly to her chest, which heaved with exertion as the girl kept running, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being followed.

At first, everything looked peaceful and devoid of life behind her, and her shoulders relaxed just a fraction.

Then, from the endless gray that covered the land, dark creatures spawned from the shadows, transforming from dark spots with glowing magenta eyes to massive beasts of all kinds, both landbound and flying, burly and nimble, and all clad in faded, heavy armor while wielding great blades that glinted dully, even with the lack of sunlight.

The girl stopped as she realized that she was trapped, while from a nearby tree, the raven watched calmly. As the monstrous warriors surrounded the girl from all sides, the bird took flight, swooping high up into air before dropping down, and in the blink of an eye, he transformed.

One minute, there was a raven in the air. The next moment, a pair of black metal boots touched the earth, and the imposing figure of a man in heavy armor stood at full height before the frightened girl. He approached her, drawing his blade, his eyes glowing through the slits in his helmet as he approached, promising death. In the air, thick with tension, his voice cut through, clear and full of malice.

“This is the end for you and your treason. I will see to that myself.”

The girl’s hands trembled as they fumbled with her staff, then steadied themselves with a great show of effort. The girl took a deep breath, forcing down her nerves, and struck the ground with the magical artifact, summoning forth its magical properties as she began to chant, summoning a blue light all around her that had the armored beasts recoiling and the man with the sword halting in his tracks.

That was all she needed to finish her spell.

“O brave knight, swift as the wind! Heed my call!” she implored, looking up at the sky as though the answer to her troubles would fall before her. From all around her, the cyan light glowed bright, until it exploded upwards, a column of magical might, piercing through the clouds and striking the heavens, leaving a sole spot of light in the otherwise gloomy sky.

And something did, indeed, fall down to her, and it fell with a scream that cut itself short as the being, a blue hedgehog, faceplanted in the dirt road.

This wasn’t what Sonic had been expecting out of today.

He lifted his face, shaking away the gravel, and scrambled to his feet, scampering forward until he caught one chilidog that, like him, fell from above, and then leapt in the other direction to catch the second one just before it hit the ground. Sonic sighed in relief, bringing himself back to his feet and taking a look around.

“Hey… where am I?”

The sound of footstep behind him prompted him to turn around, and he saw the girl approach him, her eyes widening and her lips parting as she looked upon him. For a second, no words came from her, but she appeared to find her tongue quickly. “Being from a distant world, forgive my abrupt summons!” She knelt beside him, still shaking from her run, and slid her hood down, revealing delicate features and long, pointed ears.

That’s not something you see every day on a human…

Movement from over her shoulder distracted Sonic from the girl’s unusual ears, prompting him to look over at the group of beasts in armor, which were beginning to encroach upon them. Sonic took a look behind him, beholding the armored man who stood stock-still, beholding him without a word, his shadowy aura growing thick around him.

Sonic let out a chuckle, quickly finishing off one of the chilidogs in his hands. It didn’t seem like he would be having lunch with Amy after all, but he couldn’t let such a delicacy go to waste. Making a mental note to apologize to his friend once this was over and maybe reschedule the whole thing, Sonic tossed the second chilidog to his other hand, spinning it idly around as he spoke to the girl. “Oh, I get it,” he reassured her. “No problem! I’m used to stuff like this!”

Enemies all around? Overwhelming sense of dread? Tension in the air so thick you could choke on it?

He was called in to fight and rescue this girl, he was sure of it.

With a grin, he threw his snack up high into the air and dashed off, leaving behind a gust of wind as powerful as a shockwave. He vaguely heard the girl gasp as he ran through the cluster of armored enemies, creating another shockwave that, to his surprise, made them evaporate without any more fuss. Sonic pushed the surprise away 一 there was bound to be a reason why, and it wasn’t like he had to know it now or anything 一 and refocused on returning to his spot, catching the chilidog before it was anywhere close to the ground.

He glanced back at the girl, who was staring at him with open astonishment, her hand in front of her mouth and her eyes wide. Sonic allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smirk at demonstrating his abilities so cleanly, then turned back toward the last enemy, the armored man, who still hadn’t moved from his spot and was still staring at him.

Sonic began spinning his snack around again. “Don’t forget to blink,” he taunted, and finally, the man moved, bringing his sword 一 a bright, golden blade that didn’t match his dark getup at all 一 up and before him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a face like yours,” the man said, pointing the tip of the blade at Sonic.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You’ve got all that armor in front of your eyes! How about I knock it away and you can get a real good look--”

“No, you mustn’t!”

A hand grabbed tightly over his arm, stunning him enough that he fumbled with his free hand and sent his chilidog tumbling to the ground. Sonic looked from his ruined treat to the girl who stopped him as she swung her staff before them both, causing a vortex of dirt and wind to surround them. As Sonic felt himself begin to get pulled away, he reached out a hand to his fallen treat and the final enemy that he had yet to even try to defeat, but it was all in vain. The armored man charged forward, but his sword only struck empty air.

The man cursed under his breath, turning away from the vanishing point and walking a few paces away, crushing the chilidog underneath one of his boots without a second thought. “She’s slipped away from me again,” he growled, the dark aura around him growing stronger. “And now she has an ally of the worst kind…”

The man kicked at the ground, wiping some of the remains of meat and beans away as he did so, and wasted no more time in jumping into the air and transforming back into a raven, shedding a single feather as he soared away, over hills and valleys, clearing a town and swooping over the outer wall of a magnificent castle, landing before five people standing in wait, clad in polished, presentable armor. He transformed back into his true form, and all five knelt before him, bowing their heads without hesitation.

My knights...

For just a moment, the man’s gaze swept over the five before him, something akin to pride sparking deep within him, before the feeling extinguished itself as quickly as it came, leaving nothing but coldness in its wake.

“She’s escaped me again, but I shall continue to give chase,” he informed them, seeing a few ears perk up as he spoke. “At this point, I cannot stand another day knowing that she evades me. Spread out, and slay her on sight. I no longer care if it is by my hand or not.”

Five heads nodded, still bowed, and the man felt satisfied until he remembered the other important piece of information.

“She has recruited an ally, a magical warrior. You will know him when you see him. Do not fall for his tricks, and slay him as well. Mercy is not an option. We have no time to lose.”

With that, the man turned away and leapt into the air again, transforming back into a bird to continue his search, while behind him, the five lifted their heads and got to their feet.

“That was vague,” one spoke; a green hawk with two fanned blades.

“Hush, Brother,” another one said; a purple cat wielding a rapier. “Our king has much to handle and no time to spare. It is our duty to help shoulder his burdens as best as we can.”

“I apologize, Percival,” a third one piped up; a pale gray hedgehog with long spines, “but I must agree with Lamorak. We do not know what this ‘magical warrior’ of hers looks like!”

“More likely than not, he will be travelling with her,” yet another spat; a black hedgehog with red streaks in his fur. “If we find one, we will almost certainly find the other, and even if we don’t, our king has made it clear that we will know him when we see him. Now, let us depart.”

“But must we?” the final one asked; a red echidna with two axe-like swords. “She is the Royal Wizard, after all!”

The black hedgehog’s head snapped over, his voice taking a hard edge as he spoke. “She was the Royal Wizard, and in any case, the king’s orders are absolute, Gawain.”

“Yes, but--”

“We have been given our task,” the gray hedgehog said, walking up between them both. “If he demands that they be slain, then slain they shall be.”

This seemed to pacify the black hedgehog, who nodded once before racing off, with the gray hedgehog close behind. The one named Gawain heaved a sigh as the one named Percival approached him. “Without loyalty to the king, we are nothing,” she reminded him sternly, though the next second she looked off to the horizon, where the hedgehogs had become little more than specks. “Still, the king… he has changed,” she murmured, much softer and thoughtful. “And this kingdom…”

“That would be putting it lightly,” the one called Lamorak scoffed, nudging Percival with his shoulder, much to her annoyance. “I need no magical gifts to see that there are troubling times ahead of us. However, there is not much else for us to do.”

“Only our jobs, and to trust our king’s judgement,” Gawain finished the thought, looking at one of his blades with a resigned slump to his shoulders. “Very well. I shall not be the one to disappoint him.”

Yet even with those words, the unease did not leave the knights as they left the castle walls in search for their targets.

[joaquinwhorres]

hoax (Ch. 1) {Sirius Black x F!OC}

SUMMARY ››››› It started out as a simple bet: who could get the girl chosen for them first? After four years of half-hearted attempts, Sirius decides it’s time to make a concerted effort to win over the notoriously undateable Florence Saise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 4,100-ish

WARNINGS ››››› Pretty much every chapter is going to have mentions of sex. Including this one.

A/N ››››› I'm so thankful to every single person who responded to my incessant "does this line make sense?" or "can you read this to tell me what you think?" Without you guys this never would have been uploaded, and I'd never already have the start of a second chapter.

Series Masterlist | Read on ff.net | Read on AO3

Florence Saise was rather convinced that she was the only person not excited to find themselves back at Hogwarts. Everyone else seemed to be coping with the looming start of the school year just fine, if the laughter and shouts that greeted her as she flung open the carriage door was any indication. It was, by all accounts that mattered, (which is to say, hers) not fair.

The blonde haired girl jumped down from the horseless carriage, landing with a heavier thump than might have been expected from her small frame. Before her, masses of students cursed up the hill chattering to one another with smiles on their faces. Not one had the same little crease between their eyebrows that threatened to turn into a full-on scowl.

It was as if every single one of them had either forgotten the bullshit that came along with living amongst their peers or were still blissfully unaware of the curse that was adolescence. Even her friends, who hopped down out of the carriage behind her, seemed too entrenched in the debate that had stretched from the train compartment to the carriage, to fully register what being back at Hogwarts meant.

"You've been quiet, Lory, what do you think?" Marlene asked, throwing an arm around Florence's shoulder as the small group of girls joined the throng of students.

"If Sebastian doesn't know what to do with his tongue when kissing, there's not much hope for him using it elsewhere. You'd do better with Roger."

"Aha!" Marlene cried out triumphantly, pointing a finger at Mary. "That makes it two for Roger, one for Sebastian, and one for giving up on boys all together," she tallied as Florence shrugged out from under her arm. Lily appeared on Florence's other side, trapping Florence in the middle of the group.

"You can't just use physical stuff as the metric for whether or not a relationship will be any good," Lily asserted. "There's more to dating than snogging and sex."

"Says the person who's never properly snogged anyone," Marlene stage whispered to Mary.

"Exactly," Lily said, perhaps a little too passionately. "And look how fulfilled I am."

Marlene shot Florence a skeptical look, and Lily reached across her to smack at Marlene's arm. This started another round of fierce debating, Lily reminding Mary that Sebastian had written her once a week all summer whereas Roger had only written four times, Marlene reminding Mary that she didn't want to die a virgin, and Dorcas reminding Mary that she never had any of these problems with her girlfriends.

Florence felt a dull needling, like a knuckle digging into the side of her head. At this rate, she was going to have a headache before they even reached the castle.

The Gryffindor strode ahead of the group, near enough that she wouldn't catch any flack for abandoning them but far enough that she could more easily drown out their bickering. She would give anything for just a single moment of peace today. Between her father and brother waking her up with their argument to Lily and Marlene's stupid battle over who Mary should date, all Florence wanted was ten minutes where she didn't get roped into playing referee.

But as she looked up ahead on the path, her eyes landing on James Potter and his crew, it seemed like peace was not in the cards for her today.

The group of boys were laughing amongst each other as they subtly enchanted trees to tap students on the shoulder or grab an unsuspecting second year. It was, objectively speaking, rather funny to witness the reactions of their various victims. One boy let out a startled shriek so loud, Florence would have expected it to come from a banshee. Another girl was attempting to fight off a branch that kept pulling at her plait. The problem with Potter and them's joke was not so much the unrest it caused amongst the students ahead of Florence.

The problem was Lily.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lily sighed, cutting Marlene off mid sentence. "What's even the point in making Remus a prefect if he's going to let his friends get away with everything?"

Before any of the girls had a chance to talk Lily down, the prefect marched up the hill with impressive speed, her hair billowing behind her.

"I am not missing this," Marlene said eagerly, grabbing Mary by the hand and tugging her up the hill with her. Dorcas and Florence shared a look and a sigh, before following them after Lily.

"Potter!" Lily shouted, and the group of boys came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing the group of Ravenclaws behind them to collide with their backs.

"Ah the dulcet tones of Lily Evans," James Potter said as he turned around to face the fuming redhead, a smirk set firmly in place.

Lily pulled up right in front of him, chest heaving from her quick trip up the hill. "You are to stop using magic at once or else I'll be forced to give you detention."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Potter said, tilting his head and allowing confusion to overtake his features. Lily's scowl deepened, clearly not buying the act. "I think you and I are both aware that it's against the rules to use magic before term starts, and we're not even at the castle yet."

Behind him, Pettigrew and Black snickered. The sound seemed to bolster James Potter's already rampant egotism as the smirk returned once more to his face.

"Unless of course, you're saying that I've enchanted you. Do you find me bewitching, Evans?" Potter asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"I think I've made it quite clear what I think of you, James Potter," Lily snapped, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "10 points from Gryffindor."

"Ah, Evans," Potter tsked, as if regretting the fact that he would have to share bad news with her. "Prefects can't take points until the start of term. Learned that fourth year," he added on, dropping the sympathetic act.

Marlene nudged Florence with her elbow and held out her hand expectantly. Florence's eyes moved from the open palm to her friend's gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe you owe me a hundred galleons," Marlene informed her, a smile tugging at her lips even as she fought to remain serious. "As James Potter has just confirmed that he has, in fact, learned something in his past five years here."

"That doesn't count," Florence said dryly, slapping Marlene's palm down even as Marlene grinned at her winningly. The stare off between a seething Lily and smug James was looking very much like it was about to end in a murder. Remus Lupin must have also caught onto this because he shook his head and finally stepped forward.

"Come on, let's at least make it to the castle this year before you and Lily have a row," he appealed, making a half-decent attempt at Prefect-like behavior.

Potter turned to his friend with a magnanimous smile. "Since you asked so kindly, Moony," Potter paused, shooting Lily a look. "I'll make sure there is no more confusion about whether or not we might have been doing magic. Watch carefully, Evans. I'm putting my wand in my back pocket. Feel free to track its progress up the hill," he added with a wink.

Lily let out a disgusted noise as Marlene snorted, and Potter turned to continue back up the hill with his friends, Sirius Black playfully pushing him as he rejoined the group.

"What a wanker," Lily murmured, watching the boys go.

"Maybe, but he's looking well fit," Marlene noted, taking Potter up on his offer to make sure his wand stayed in his back pocket. "You could do a lot worse than James Potter."

Lily whirled on Marlene, emitting a scandalized,  " Marlene! "

The dark haired girl laughed and shook her head. "Oh come off it, Lils, he's smart, funny, attractive, all of which is important to you, and," she looked around before leaning forward conspiratorially. "I've heard his wandwork isn't the only magical thing he can do with his hands." Marlene wiggled her fingers at Lily, who pulled back looking so pale that for a moment, Florence thought she might actually be sick.

Which was far too hilarious not to laugh at. So she did, earning a dark look from Lily and a shiteating grin from Marlene.

Lily rounded back on Marlene before shaking her head and starting back up to the castle.  "He's not funny; he's cruel. And he's only half as smart as he thinks he is."

"So you agree he's attractive?" Marlene asked, raising an eyebrow, and Lily's face turned bright red before she managed to sputter out a:

"Looks don't mean anything!"

"She's right," Dorcas added. Contributing to the conversation for the first time with the decisiveness that the girls had come to expect from her.  "Looks don't mean anything. But being good with his hands, well…"

Lily emitted a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and mild outrage as the rest of her friends laughed at her and moved past on their way to the castle. A small feeling in Florence's chest loosened as she walked with them, the conversation alternating between teasing Lily and debating between Roger and Sebastian. Maybe this year wouldn't be quite as bad as the past five.

Naturally, the hope of a better year was squashed the very next day.

This, of course, should have been expected. After all, the first day of classes was primarily meant for overloading students with work they weren't yet prepared for and reminding them that their very futures depended on the mastery of the material. However, those spiels were not the giveaway that this year would be more or less the same in terms of teenage bullshit as the years prior. What it really came down to was her Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

The death of her hope began the moment she walked into the classroom and was faced with an obscenely tall and lanky man, dressed in a smart tweed suit with his chin length hair tucked behind his ears. A name was written in halting cursive on the chalkboard behind him.

Oleander Fernsby.

It was a ridiculous name for what was, by all indicators, a ridiculous man.

Although, as Florence watched the way his eyes darted around the classroom, shooting away every time a student got too close to making eye contact, she began to think that perhaps ridiculous was the wrong word. It suggested a certain confidence that this man in front of her was severely lacking.

It was painful to watch really, seeing him hoist the corners of his mouth up just to seem to lose his grip and have the smile come crashing down again. Both of his hands were shoved into his pants pockets, the right one fiddling with something it found in there so that the pocket almost seemed to flutter with his nervous energy. Even as she sat down next to Marlene, Florence couldn't take her eyes off of this clear disaster waiting to happen.

"This is going to be interesting," Marlene noted with raised eyebrows as she tapped her quill tip on the desk. "Reckon he'll make it the whole year?"

"Reckon he'll make it to the end of the month?" Florence returned, and Marlene snorted.

The last of the students shuffled into the room, claiming desks next to their friends and casting skeptical looks up at the unusual choice for professor. Even Remus Lupin looked unsure about Dumbledore's choice as he sat with eyebrows raised and a slight frown on his face.

The professor cleared his throat, which was completely ineffective when it came to quelling the murmurings of students sizing him up.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice dipping down into a mumble on the last syllable. As could be expected, the class' attention remained on their own conversations.

" Merlin's beard," Dorcas muttered under her breath from behind Florence. The professor furrowed his brow, a look of resolve on his face before trying again.

"Good morning." He had added a bit of volume and force assertiveness to his voice, but it wasn't until Potter hit Black on the shoulder and gestured with his head to the professor that the talking in the room tapered off. Faced with a room of quiet students, he succeeded in finally managing a weak smile.

"Good morning," he repeated, his voice soft but steady at least. "I'm Professor Fernsby, and I'll be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

It was hard to imagine this particular wizard ever standing up against the dark arts. He looked like he could hardly manage a boggart let alone a hag or Lethifold. Even faced with a room full of bored teenagers, he was crumbling under the pressure. Across the room Peter Pettigrew snickered, and Fernsby's expression faltered.

"I know that I am a new face here, and you've had five other professors, but I hope that together we'll have a good year this year and learn a lot."

Florence snorted and either Lily or Dorcas (probably Lily) jabbed a finger into her back in scolding.

Fernsby's smile flickered, and he paused. "Erm, yes. I know that this is your second class of the day, and it's early. The first years were all practically asleep at their desks this morning, but this is an NEWT-level class, so we will be covering rather complicated and dark material--oh! Yes, you there," Fernsby said, gesturing towards a student in the back. Florence turned, watching as Cassius Avery lowered his hand, a self-satisfied smirk already twisting at his lips.

"Can you explain what you mean by 'dark,' professor?"

The classroom went so still even Fernsby seemed to notice, his pocket fluttering once more.

"Well, we'll learn about the Unforgivable Curses. How to battle Inferi--"

"Will we be learning more about the Dark Arts themselves?" Avery interrupted, tilting back his chair so that it leaned against Thaddeus Nott's desk.

Fernsby's eyes flicked around the classroom as if looking for help from one of the students, but everyone remained still and quiet, watching to see what would happen. Florence set her jaw as she looked back at Avery who was looking rather smug. Beside him there was a glint in Thomas Mulciber's eye as if he were watching an animal fall into a trap.  "I'm not sure that would be entirely appropriate--" Fernsby started.

"I was just thinking that we should know how the Dark Arts work and such so we can properly defend ourselves?" Avery clarified and beside him Mulciber smirked. Florence's hand curled into a fist on her desk. "I mean, you want us to be prepared, don't you, professor? We need to know--"

"Avery you smarmy little git, would you shut up?" Florence snapped, and the eyes of the class shot over to her. But she was just looking at Avery whose eyes flashed angrily. "Even he's not thick enough to teach you how to curse someone. Go ask your dad. Or is he too busy shagging his cousin--I'm sorry, your mum."

There was a beat of silence as the whole class seemed to collectively hold its breath before across the room, Sirius Black broke out into a loud barking laughter, muffling whatever Avery snarled at Florence.

"Pardon?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, and though he opened his mouth to say it again, it wasn't Avery's voice, but Fernsby's she heard next.

"That is--that is quite enough," the professor finally interjected, and Florence turned around, ready for her detention or points to be docked, but as Fernsby's eyes landed on her and she met them with a fierce unrepentance, he wet his lips and moved on.

"Merlin's beard," Marlene whispered to Florence. "Been holding onto that for a while, haven't you?"

"After what he and Mulciber did last year to Mary, he's lucky I haven't set him on fire," Florence mumbled. "Last thing we need is that lot learning about the Dark Arts so they can practice on muggleborns."

Marlene nodded her agreement, and the two focused back on Fernsby who was presently taking attendance.

Class continued and with it the growing feeling that someone was attempting to stare daggers into the back of her head. When she finally turned with a raised eyebrow, she found that not only was Avery glaring at her, but Mulciber and Nott had also joined in their friend's effort. She gave the three of them the most saccharine smile she could muster and lifted a middle finger towards them. When she turned back to Fernsby, he was in the middle of listing his credentials and previous places of employment..

He had just finished on how formative his time in the Azkaban processing unit was when James Potter began to loudly pack up his bag. "And erm..." Professor Fernsby stopped, watching as Potter corked his inkwell and dropped it into his bag. "Mr….Potter was it?"

Potter looked up, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," he said, his face genuinely apologetic. "I thought you were about done."

"Done?" Fernsby asked. While the word might have cracked like a whip from McGonagall or Kettleburn, instead it came out rather helpless as he looked appealingly to Potter for an explanation.

"It's just that usually professors keep class short the first. To get us acclimated to the school schedule again, you know."

Fernsby said nothing, looking out over the class to see nods of assent. Even Dorcas kept quiet.

"He's right," Marlene said from next to her, and Florence's attention whipped to her friend. "Although usually they make us stay at least half the block," she added with a reproachful look to James.

"Ah, well, I suppose here is as good a place to stop as any," Professor Fernsby said. "Come ready to learn, as I will be picking up the pace as the year progresses."

He seemed rather proud of himself, Florence thought as she along with her classmates scurried to pack up their books before anyone could possibly grow a guilty conscience. He probably thought the early dismissal was a sign of kindness and not what it really was: blood in the water.

Shouldering her bag, Florence headed out behind Lily and Dorcas into the hallway.

"We're not going to learn anything all year," Dorcas moaned, tossing her head back to stare miserably at the ceiling.

"It's going to be an easy O at least," Lily sighed. "And besides, next year it'll be someone new. Maybe they'll be able to catch us up."

Dorcas wilted a little, head coming back down to face forward with a pout tugging down her lips. "I suppose."

Marlene looked disbelievingly at the group. "Are we really not going to talk about Avery?"

"Do we have to?" Mary asked with a shudder. "He's so creepy. "

"That whole group is destined for Azkaban," Lily murmured, shaking her head.

"Not if Lory gets to them first," Marlene countered, smirking.

Florence shrugged, "I already told you I didn't think Fernsby had the backbone to tell him no."

"Right, but going after his dad like that?" Marlene pressed, raising her eyebrows at Florence as if to prompt an explanation.

"Everyone knows the Sacred Twenty-Eight's inbred," a voice drawled from behind the group. Lily rolled her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh through her nose as Potter, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew interspersed themselves amongst the girls. "After all, you're looking at someone whose father shagged his cousin. Thankfully all of the negative effects of my parents' decision to procreate saved themselves for Regulus. Florence snorted at this, and Marlene barked out a laugh. Even Lily's lips quirked up into a reluctant half smile. "I have to say, Saise, that was a thing of sheer beauty in there. I think I might have even fallen in love with you a little," Black grinned.

Florence rolled her eyes and shook her head, even as the grin stayed on her lips. "I hope you're prepared for heartbreak then. Pettigrew, I'd start collecting chocolate frogs now, he's going to need them."

A quick confusion crossed Pettigrew's face as he darted a glance at Black, as if to ask if Florence was serious. But his friend was too busy throwing a hand over his heart and staggering back as if wounded.

"Should I get some chocolate frogs too, Evans? Or are you planning on sparing my heart this year?" Potter asked, grinning winsomely at Lily.

She gave him a tight lipped grin back, tilting her head towards him. "You should get as many as you can and stick them in your bag. That way, every time you have even the faintest impulse to ask me out, you can take one out and shove it in your mouth to save us both the trouble."

With that, Lily brushed her hair over her shoulder and moved forward to link arms with Florence, turning them both around to march down the hallway and away from their heartbroken boys.

"I think there was progress," James said, piling potatoes onto his plate once the boys had sat down for lunch. The past forty-five minutes that they should have spent in Defense Against the Dark Arts had been devoted instead to James' eternal pining over Lily Evans. "She didn't call me any names."

"Didn't need to, mate," Sirius said, snagging the serving spoon from James. "Her face and tone of voice largely did that for her."

"Yeah? What'd it say?" James asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Sirius spoon potatoes next to his sausage.

Sirius straightened up in his seat, pointing the spoon at James. "It said, James Potter, you are a complete tosser," he said, mimicking Lily's high voice, much to the amusement of both Remus and Peter.

James looked down the table to where Lily tossed her head back laughing at something Mary Macdonald said. The lack of outright animosity had been progress, but she still didn't look at him with even a fraction of the warmth she gave to everyone else. Lily caught sight of him and the smile slid from her face, settling into a look of pure disdain before she turned back to her friends and said something that made Marlene McKinnon almost spit out her pumpkin juice.

"Well at least I can say I'm trying," James protested, turning back to face Sirius.

"Trying what? To get Lily Evans to hex your arse halfway 'cross the country?" Sirius asked. "Because that is about the only thing you're set to succeed at with her."

James scoffed before growing serious.  "I'm trying to win the bet."

Sirius raised his eyebrows at his best friend, and even Peter seemed to have checked back in to the conversation. Remus however let out a groan and set down the book he'd been reading so he didn't have to listen to James going on about Lily. "I thought you two had given that up."

"It was just on hiatus for a while," Sirius dismissed, picking up his fork to dig into his lunch. "Because unlike Prongs, I don't have to spend years just to get Saise to tolerate being in the same room as me."

"And yet," James said, picking up his own fork. "You still haven't won."

"Well, I've been a bit too busy with other matters to be worried much about the birds?"

"Like what?" Remus asked, picking his book back up.

"Largely, being the family disappointment," Sirius remarked with some finality as he bit into his sausage.

James just laughed at this. "Please, you have about as much interest in dating as Saise does. One of you is going to call it quotes before you can even go public--let alone last two weeks."

"All I'm saying is that at least Saise doesn't actively detest the very sight of me," Sirius shrugged, taking another bite of his food.

"I'm making progress."

"Of course you are, mate," Sirius nodded, navigating the words around the mouthful of food.

James shook his head at Sirius, "Padfoot, when it comes right down to it , I don't even think you could get Saise out of her knickers, let alone date you."

Sirius scoffed. "Everyone can get her out of her knickers. Everyone practically has gotten Saise out of her knickers."

Remus looked up from his book, a frown tugging at his features. "That's an ugly thing to say Sirius," he scolded, but Sirius looked completely unrepentant.

"It's not like it's a secret that practically our entire year has shagged Florence. Everyone knows what she's like," Peter shrugged.

"Exactly. Thank you, Wormtail," Sirius said. "But if you're so certain I can't do it, Prongs, then you'd have no problem making a little add on to our bet. Right?"

"No problem at all," James said, smugly.

"Great," Sirius said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Let's talk terms."

[raelly-writing]

Little Secrets - Thancred/WoL

Post-5.5. Silly little bit of fluff I’ve had lying around in my WIP folder since before 5.3. :)

---

The Rising Stones lay still and quiet as Thancred made his way through its hallways. Not that it was unexpected at this hour - either it was far too late in the night or too early in the morning for many souls aside for the town guards to be awake.

At least the others out in the field had been faring well when he’d checked in with them, despite their less than pleasant task of intercepting any further attempts to bring captives to the towers. Sure, he could have checked in via linkpearl, but after the chaos out in Pagl’than, it’d seemed prudent to get a feeling for the situation elsewhere.

Well, he could convene with Riol and Alphinaud in the morning, Thancred thought as he took the steps up the stairs to the sleeping quarters in twos. Despite his long travel and the late - or early - hour, he felt rather energetic.

Or perhaps it was the thought of slinking into Viana’s room and just catching a few precious hours of sleep with her after several days apart that put a slight spring in his step. Between his time away in Garlemald, and leaving again to see how the situation at the other towers were, he looked forward to the comforting warmth of her body curled up next to his as he slept. In the dark, still corridor, his quiet huff of laughter at himself seemed far louder than it was. It would have been a hard thing to believe once that he’d be eager to slip into his lover’s bed, just for the simple pleasure of sleeping by their side.

Nevermind that there were no fears of entanglement driving him from leaving said bed early, that he was content and secure in this bond between them that kept him by her side - that he could allow himself to have this simple happiness in his life, despite those moments where he felt it was something he had not yet earned, and those familiar, dark voices whispered to him that she would one day realise that he was not fit for her.

With a shake of his head, he fished out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket and quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, bathed in the low light of the lantern left burning on her desk.

Too silent, in fact.

A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.

The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.

Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it - guess he was sleeping in his own bed tonight. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he reached out to turn off the lantern, when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. Thancred stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall by her wardrobe.

“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.

“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.

Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress.

A moment of silence stretched out between them.

Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”

Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.

He tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander and soak in her unusual appearance, used as he was to her in full armour or just lighter shirts and trousers. This was… extravagant, by comparison. “People have on occasion accused me of such feats,” he quipped.

Pausing, she gave him a shy, uncertain look while still lingering by the door. He was not meant to have seen her like this, he realised. Only once, long ago, had he seen her carry herself in such an apprehensive manner - at the banquet that had been held after the Grand Melee in Ishgard. But there were no crowds of gossiping nobles present now to watch her every move.

Thancred gave her a reassuring smile as he took a couple of slow steps forward. “So, do you mind me asking what this is about?” He had an inkling but...

Viana tensed up, and he nearly told her that she did not have to if so was her wish, but then she sighed and procured from behind her the folded together metal rings that appeared to have been suspended from one of the chains around her waist.  “I suppose you’d find out sooner or later,” she said quietly as she took a few steps to close the distance between them.

With a touch of aether, the slender rings flared to life and hovered above her palm - a familiar sight, though hers lacked the intricate decorations of Urianger’s. The bracelets on her arm tinkled when she moved her arm over the astrolabe, her face set in a look of concentration.

Briefly, the room was illuminated by a surge of aether, and then a soothing sensation washed over Thancred, like a gentle whisper of the softest silk over his bare skin that swept away the weariness in his limbs. Rejuvenating magic, tinted with the warm, familiar feeling of her aether.

“I made the mistake of voicing some curiosity about astrology to Urianger while we were dealing with Eden.” The corner of her mouth curled with a crooked smile. “And I fear he took it as a personal challenge to teach me.”

“Ah, a grave mistake indeed,” Thancred chuckled. “Give him an ilm and he’ll take a yalm.”

Shrugging, she eyed the slowly spinning astrolabe with a small, thoughtful smile. “It’s been… interesting to learn though.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “I’ll probably never take this out in the field. I’m barely good enough to heal a minor cut, but I do genuinely appreciate the effort and time he’s put toward this. He’s a good teacher. Very patient with me.”

Thancred’s expression softened. He knew her lack of an education was a sore spot for her, and that she often felt like her non-existent grasp of magical theory made her less of use than the rest of them - that, as per her own jest, her sole contribution to any given problem was to take a beating and punch the issue until it either went away or one of them solved it. Gratitude towards Urianger for taking her under his wing tugged at his heart, along with a content pride in her efforts to learn. Even if Thancred himself thought that she hardly had anything to prove to them, in that regard. She was more than just a weapon. Reaching out, he took her free hand in his and brushed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, below the rings that adorned them.

“I take it you were out studying the stars then,” he asked, recalling how Urianger would sometimes venture out into the fields of Il Mheg even when the blanket of Eternal Light had made it impossible to see the night sky.

Viana nodded and slipped her hand from his to caress his jaw. The scratch of his stubble made her smile widen a little, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Mm, his balcony has a good view of most of them. Otherwise we go up to one of the towers.”

With another wave of her hand, the astrolabe folded back up and she took a careful hold of it before walking past him to the same low cabinet upon which her katana stand stood. The soft light from the lantern caught on the gold chain hanging down between her shoulder blades. Focusing on it, he saw that another star pendant was dangling at its end, and that another, heftier chain was attached to the band around her upper arm. There was an itch in his fingers to slowly undo each clasp and tie, to loosen the corset hugging her body and unwrap her like a fine namesday gift.

“He’s been teaching me about the various constellations and how to draw on them,” she told him over her shoulder, unaware of how his eyes were following the chains looping around her waist, and the small blue gems hanging from them that sparkled like they were distant stars twinkling in the night sky. “Not sure how successful I’ve been at it though.”

She turned around and his gaze instantly snapped back up to her face. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Viana shrugged sheepishly. “Perhaps. If nothing else I might be able to apply some of the theory to my gunbreaker barriers.” Her smile turned crooked, as humour sparked in her eyes. “And, I might not stand around and look like I just got clubbed over the head by Titan whenever a discussion turns theoretical in nature about aether balancing and all that stuff.”

“Ah, my dear, you’re hardly the only one who gets turned around by their theoretical debates.”

A soft peal of laughter made her shoulders shake as she walked back to him. “Well, I suppose I have Estinien as company in that regard, for now.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that she knew he was obfuscating his own knowledge on the field, but instead of calling him out on it she merely leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured.

Smiling, Thancred slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to be back.”

Viana leaned against him and brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Planning on staying for more than a day, this time?”

Immediately he felt the long journey catch up with him, and with a tired chuckle he nodded. “Unless the gods decide to suddenly turn the world upside down tomorrow, then yes, I am.”

Her smile brightened a little at once. “Good.” She leaned down and he eagerly met her in a slow kiss.

Thancred made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, his heart skipping a beat in joy at being back with her. The kiss was short and sweet, familiar and welcoming in tone.

Almost too short, he felt, when she straightened back up. Peering up at her, he felt curiosity tug at him once more as he thumbed what felt like a star shaped pendant. “Haven’t seen you in something like this before,” he murmured with a smile. “Well, aside from that dress at ser Aymeric’s banquet.”

A blush immediately crept up on her cheeks as she glanced away. “Ah, yes, I... asked Tataru for some more aether conductive gear,” she replied while tapping her fingers against his shoulders in a nervous manner. “Apparently she’d gotten her hands on some new patterns in Ishgard that she wanted to try out. Decided to kill two cloudkin with one rock, as it were.” The tilt of her smile turned a little self deprecating as she shrugged, “Can’t help but feel like her efforts were wasted on me.”

Raising a hand, he touched her chin to urge her to look back at him. Thancred held her gaze and let the levity drop from his voice when he responded, “You look stunning, darling.”

Viana’s eyes widened a fraction before her expression settled back into a bashful look. “Not exactly my usual style,” she murmured, her tone uncertain. “It seems a bit… frivolous, compared to my normal clothes.”

“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity, if that’s what you are in the mood for,” Thancred mused.

She pursed her lips with a thoughtful look, before leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Well, thoughts for a later time I suppose. Mind helping me out of this?”

“Mm, that would be my pleasure,” he replied with a grin and gave her waist a squeeze.