#the rematch of the century

[mirthfulmoonshine]

Street fight

[agender-adrastea]

last week of fantasy football and IM ABOUT TO WIN THIS SHIT

[magnificentposting-fabrizioart]

I'm about to say the thing you were waiting for.

By the way. Still here.

Still not done with episode 16, but a few random comments.

First of all, THE thing.

We're now rooting for Hurrem hard. She's learning, actually trying and thinking, and at this point almost everyone else is worse tbh.

Especially Mahidevran.

The Leo Arc has begun. It will be glorious and dumb.

Matrakçi apparently having the key to Ibrahim's place like we were in Friends is hilarious.

Same as him being utterly confused by the concept of twins.

Matrakçi has never not been hilarious actually.

YAY MOCENIGO IS BACK (and keeps being bullied).

I loved the roasting of the Pope for selling indulgency because while correct on that, it was hilarious coming from Suleyman, ESPECIALLY when he decides to throw shade at religious authoritarianism and/or inner division, given what just happened with the letter from the Shah (amazing trash talk from both sides there. Suleyman, as usual, is as subtle as Orban's cannons).

Lastly the important stuff- I was not ready for loose hair nightgown Nigar.

None of my family was actually, my sisters took it just as I did, we're still recovering.

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

oh no I just realized how much more of a mess it becomes in Regrowth AU when Ceara finally makes it to the Wizard's Tower.

Ceara and Livia make direct eye contact.

Someone's gonna need a trip to the burn ward by the time that's over and it won't be Livia--

[captivemuses]

With a flick of his wrist his polearm appeared in his hand. A weapon made and gifted to him by the archon he respected more highly than anything. But it seemed his pet wished to play. "You seem to not know the word of no." Golden hues narrowed as he merely observed the other for the time being. "I do not like you." That was obvious. "But to get you to leave me be I will fight you." (For childe)

"And if I took no for an answer for everything, then I wouldn't have half the strength that I do now." As soon as the green tipped polearm materialized in the Yaksha's hand, ocean blue eyes almost twinkled from this new developmnt and lips pulled into an easy grin as dual blades did the same appearing and forming in the Harbingers gloved hands.

This was going to be fun. Childe had been wanting this sparring match for months now, and finally the persistance had paid off and gotten him one with someone who Childe would have to push himself going up against. While Xiao stood still for now, Childe took a few paces in a circle, sizing up the adepti and waiting to see how long he'd take to move.

"I know you don't like me, but you still have to put up with me. Whether or not I see you later when the Lantern Rite begins remains to be seen, but we have time until things kick off to have some fun."

[abyssruler]

TROPES

ft. jing yuan, dan heng, blade x gn!reader

JING YUAN - reincarnation

They say the Arbiter General of the Luofu only takes a lover every few decades, each one doomed to end in the tragedy that befalls that of a love between a short-life species and a long-life one. It’s widely speculated why the famed general chooses to continue taking short-life species for lovers, knowing the ending that would come about such a union. Jing Yuan cares not for idle gossip, save for the fact that people spread misinformation about him taking multiple lovers, but he can hardly tell everyone that he has only had one lover throughout his centuries of life. It’s just that you always happen to die far too soon for his liking. He fears sometimes, during those first few years after your death, that you’ll never come back, that one day he’ll wake up and realize that hundreds of years have passed without you. But you never fail to appear decades later with a smile on your lips and an apology on your tongue, soothing years’ worth of worries with a few measly words. Sorry, Yuan, I’ll be sure to live longer this time.

DAN HENG - soulmates

The Imbibitor Lunae was not only tasked to bear the responsibility of being the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, he was also destined for a love that spanned beyond lifetimes. Dan Heng knows of the story between the previous incarnations of you and the Imbibitor Lunae. Reincarnating at the same time, falling in love, and repeating it all over again in a never ending cycle that Dan Heng had been sure to end—that was, until he met you. Jing Yuan told him of your decision to forcefully reincarnate as well after Dan Feng’s crime, so it stands to reason that you shouldn’t feel anything for Dan Heng at all, what with this incarnation of yours having never met him in this lifetime. And yet, you keep looking at him with such softness, something like nostalgia in the tone of your voice as you spoke with him, that he can’t help but feel as though he, like his previous incarnations before him, can do nothing but fall into that never-ending cycle of love and being loved.

BLADE/YINGXING - time travel

Yingxing thinks you’re strange. Not in a bad way, of course, only that your mannerisms and way of conduct when it comes to him and his companions is odd. He’s caught you almost calling Dan Feng the wrong name, Dan He-something. You keep demanding Jing Yuan to spar with you for what you dubbed was a ‘rematch’, though Yingxing has no recollection of any instances of you and Jing Yuan fighting before. But it all pales in comparison to the way you act with him. You’re overly familiar, smiling and talking to him as though you’ve known him for years instead of a single month after he discovered you wounded on an alley with a broken blade. He still remembers the look of relief on your face when he crouched in front of you in concern. Blade, Kafka’s gonna kill me, this is the fiftieth sword I broke this month, was all you said before passing out. Despite the oddity of your first meeting, he found himself getting close to you, drawn in by your smile and your laugh and the tender way you looked at him. He imagined spending what remained of his life with you, but you disappeared a day before he was supposed to confess his feelings. It isn’t until many years later, when Elio is introducing the newest member of the Stellaron Hunters, that Blade connects the dots amidst his fractured memory. And it isn’t until another few years that you confirm his suspicions. Blade, you won’t believe what I just went through—or rather, when!

[sidsinning]

The fact that Toji and Gojo were both alive and active in Shibuya at the same time without the other knowing

INSANE REMATCH of the century avoided

[scoutofmymind]

mama scout PUHLEASE more reader x luigi x hasan. it was so good. AND THE PREGNANCY ONE. OMFG. EEKKK

i was thinking about it and i feel like a trip to sicily or turkey with both luigi and hasan would be so...yeah... staying in the same room...yep.

Five to Nine — { Reader x Luigi x Hasan }

Wc: 5,187

Notes: lapdog Luigi, Threesome, come eating, sleepy-sex, ITALY!, lowkey breeding kink, Fantasize by Ari vibes, In love as fuck Hasan, lowkey self-sabotaging reader, fluff, smut, and just a bit of angst, reassuringbf!Hasan, reassuringbf!Luigi

Luigi won the coin toss, maintaining his undefeated status as the trip's first destination picker, while Hasan sprawls dramatically across the living room couch, listing off Turkish landmarks between heavy sighs.

The rematch of rock paper scissors only cemented Luigi's victory, though Hasan swears Luigi's "paper" moved suspiciously after his "rock" was already thrown.

"Just take the L," Luigi mumbles around a forkful of takeout, watching Hasan who has effectively gone on strike from his dinner, his container sitting untouched on the coffee table. "The weather in Sicily is perfect right now, and my Nona is already planning all the dishes she's gonna force-feed you."

"But it's literally the best time to visit Istanbul," Hasan counters, sitting up with renewed energy. "The tulips are blooming everywhere, and my cousin knows this place in Kadıköy that makes künefe that would change your life. We could be walking through the Grand Bazaar next week instead of—"

"Instead of eating the best pasta in the world and swimming in the Mediterranean?" Luigi interjects, his brows furrowed, his tone one of scold.

They never come to an agreement.

But whether Hasan wants to admit it or not, Sicily is seducing him day by day.

You catch him in these unguarded moments; bare-chested in the morning sun, sitting cross-legged in the guest house's garden with bedhead and yesterday's shorts.

His ritual begins with espresso, served in those impossibly small cups that somehow contain multitudes, looking impossibly small in his hand.

He's developed a habit that makes Luigi roll his eyes — dropping brown sugar cubes into the dark liquid and purposefully not stirring, just so he can crunch on the half-dissolved crystals between sips.

His content sighs give away what his words won't.

The guest house is a short bike ride from the main Mangione villa, a journey marked by olive trees and stone walls wearing centuries of sun.

It's comfortably strange to see Luigi here, to reconcile this version with the one who stress-orders smoothies on DoorDash and goes through a pre-stream checklist eight times (because it’s an even number) before going live back home.

Here, something ancient in his blood seems to wake up.

You've been watching the transformation since the plane landed; the American tension melting from his shoulders, his gestures becoming more expansive, more Italian. His cheeks carry a permanent flush that has nothing to do with the Sicilian sun — it's as if the very soil beneath his feet is feeding something in him that America never could.

And then there's the language — flowing from Luigi's lips like water finding its old path down a mountainside.

He claims relearning it is like muscle memory, the same way his body remembers how to navigate the dirt paths of the countryside on the rusted bikes he’d dragged out of the shed for the three of you, but you and Hasan exchange knowing looks every time he slides into it, the way his voice drops an octave, how his consonants soften and vowels stretch.

It's impossible not to stare.

You catch Hasan watching him during heated debates with his uncles about soccer teams, clearly not understanding a word but mesmerized by the passionate gestures, the rapid-fire exchanges that end in backslapping laughter.

"What did she say?" Hasan asks for the tenth time that morning, after Luigi's aunt corners him in the kitchen with excited Italian and insistent hand gestures.

Luigi's translation comes with a smirk, "She says your mustache makes you look like her first husband, and that's a very good thing." Hasan preens a little at this, and you notice how he's started leaning into conversations with the family even without understanding.

Another day dissolves into the kind of sunset that feels like a cliché in how perfect it is — all burnt orange and deep purple bleeding into the Mediterranean.

The three of you are retrieving your bikes from where you'd abandoned them that morning by the stone wall near the beach, sand still clinging to your calves, salt crystallizing in your hair.

Thankfully, the evening air has cooled just enough to make the ride back to the guest house seem inviting rather than exhausting.

"I think you bent my wheel," Luigi announces, crouching beside his childhood bike. It's a relic from his teenage years, a faded Bianchi celeste that's now more memory than color. He runs his fingers along the rim where there's a subtle but definite wobble.

Hasan, all six-foot-three of him, had been folded onto the too-small frame earlier that morning, knees nearly hitting the handlebars with each pedal stroke.

"Listen, some of us weren't built to be Italian-sized," Hasan defends, but there's affection in his mock offense. He's still wearing Luigi's cousin's too-small swim shorts, having forgotten to pack his own, the dark green fabric stretched tight across his thighs. "Maybe if your family wasn't composed entirely of pocket-sized people-“

You watch them bicker as the sky deepens to indigo, Hasan attempting to mount the bike without making the wobble worse while Luigi provides running commentary on his technique.

The chain squeaks in protest as Hasan starts pedaling, but his laughter echoes off the old stone walls as he leads the way back, the bike's crooked trajectory somehow making perfect sense for the three of you.

𓏵

That evening, you’re lying awake between them, watching shadows from the gauzy curtains dance across the ceiling while the ancient fan spins lazily overhead, doing little more than stirring the warm air.

Hasan's arm is heavy across your waist, his breath steady against your neck, while Luigi has managed to curl himself into an impossibly small ball against your other side, one hand loosely gripping your t-shirt.

Your thoughts drift like the curtains in the breeze, caught between the surreal and the mundane.

There's something about being here, in this old house with its creaking floors and walls that hold a century of summers, that makes everything feel simultaneously more real and more dreamlike.

You think about how different they both are here — Hasan, who usually fills every space with opinions and energy, finding quiet contentment in morning gardens and evening wines.

And Luigi, whose American life is all precision and planning, melting back into a version of himself that moves to a slower, sweeter rhythm.

You wonder if they feel it, too — this sense that you're living in a pocket of time that operates by different rules.

Back home, your relationship raises eyebrows, requires explanations on and off the internet, comes with labels and categories that never quite fit; but here, in this drowsy Sicilian night, it feels as natural as the way the three of you arrange yourselves in sleep.

Hasan's protective sprawl, Luigi's tender curl, you in the middle bridging the contrast.

You think about how tomorrow Luigi's Nonna will pretend not to notice the three of you sharing one room, and how she'll still set three plates at breakfast, each with its own perfectly folded linen.

Lying there for another ten minutes only seems to sharpen your awareness, each passing moment drawing you further from sleep's edge.

The sheets feel too warm, then too cool, and Luigi's steady breathing only emphasizes your own restlessness.

Finally, you give in to the inevitable, carefully reaching for your phone on the nightstand.

The screen dims to its lowest setting — barely a ghost of light in the darkness — as you roll onto your stomach, tucking a pillow under your chin.

You're mindlessly swiping through your FYP when a familiar laugh catches you off guard — your own.

Before you can stop yourself, you're clicking through to the profile, then another, then another, falling down the all too familiar rabbit hole of fan-made compilations. Dozens and dozens of little moments you lived through, now spliced and set to music.

You losing it at Hasan mid-political rant on stream, Luigi’s steady hands over yours as he teaches you his Nonna’s pasta recipe for a YouTube video, and the absolute clusterfuck of the three of you trying to coordinate in Overcooked while chat loses their minds.

The clips are sweet, honestly, in how they catch these little pieces of your life together — the real stuff, the moments where your laugh isn't performative and your eyes are bright with genuine joy.

"the way hasan looks at her when she's not looking 🥺" one comment reads, with thousands of likes.

Another video shows Luigi kissing your shoulder during a stream while you're focused on chat, Hasan pretending to gag in the background before breaking into that signature laugh shortly after.

The caption reads "name a more wholesome trio i'll wait"

"lu found his player 2 AND 3 we love to see it"

But your thumb pauses mid-scroll, that warm feeling in your chest cooling as your eyes drift to recent comments, dark and tempting.

“has anyone else seen the subreddit? they're tearing her apart over there"

Your heart sinks.

You know you shouldn't look.

But your fingers are already typing "r/HasanAndLuigi" into the search bar.

The newest thread catches your eye immediately.

"Does anyone else think she's ruining their dynamic??"

Your thumb hovers for a moment before clicking.

"The streams had this amazing chemistry and now it's all weird and forced."

"She's clearly manipulating both of them. Classic pick-me behavior."

"Notice how she always has to be the center of attention? Always inserting herself into their bits?"

You scroll further, each comment feeling like a twist of a knife already buried deep into your gut.

"I know for a fact that Lu deserves better. He seems so different now, less genuine. Idk bout Hasan anymore fr”

"Anyone else notice how Hasan keeps looking at her during streams? Like checking for her reaction? It's cringe."

Your vision blurs as you keep reading, the room around you becoming a void — just you, and these people hiding behind a screen.

"She's not even gaming material. Just sits there trying to be cute while they literally carry her lmao."

You know you should stop reading, but you can't help it, each comment feeding the doubts you try so hard to silence — it angers you, of course it does, and there’s a guilt in it, too.

Why ruin a moment of your vacation with this?

Hasan shifts beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist. You quickly lock your phone, but not before seeing one last comment.

“Wonder how long before she ruins everything yall let’s make bets😭”

The words echo in your head as you lie there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s hardly any use.

You'd think after two years of being dissected under the internet's microscope, you'd have developed thicker skin.

Every gesture analyzed, every laugh timestamped and discussed, your whole existence parsed into clips and quotes and theories. Usually, you're better at maintaining the boundary — that careful distance between you and the version of you that exists in their minds.

But tonight, something's different.

And the worst part is, you know better.

Hasan's given you the speech a hundred times — about parasocial relationships, about the toxicity of parasitic stan culture. Luigi's shown you his own scars from similar rabbit holes. And yet here you are, 3 AM, letting strangers' words burrow under your skin.

You slip out from between the boys with practiced ease — time has taught you how to navigate this particular dance. Hasan's arm falls slack against the sheets, and Luigi only makes a soft sound of protest before settling back into sleep, the stone floor cool under your bare feet as you pad to the balcony.

The old wicker chair creaks as you curl into it, knees drawn to your chest, and below, the village sleeps, only the occasional light flickering in distant windows.

The moon hangs low and heavy over the Mediterranean, casting everything in silver.

It's peaceful here, far from the digital go-go-go of everything back home, but your mind keeps echoing with words from strangers who think they know you.

And you can't even blame them entirely.

You're the one who keeps looking, keeps reading, keeps seeking validation from people who only know a fraction of your life. The girl they see in clips and streams isn't really you — she's a character they've created, part truth and part projection.

And sometimes, on nights like this, the veil between those versions of yourself feels dangerously thin.

Not much time passes before Hasan materializes like a guardian spirit summoned by the weight of your thoughts, silent and steady in the way he always seems to be when your mind grows too loud, and though you don't look at him, you feel the warm press of his lips against your tear-stained cheeks while his hand finds yours in the darkness, thumb brushing over your knuckles with that absent tenderness that means he's deep in thought but still completely attuned to you.

The silence stretches between you despite the heaviness of it, while a light breeze carries the sweet-sharp scent of lemon trees from the garden below, mingling with the traces of him that always remind you of late-night streams and sleepy morning kisses, and you can feel his eyes studying your profile with that infinite patience that's become one of your remaining safeties.

As he settles into the chair beside you his grip on your hand remains steady, drawing it into his lap where his other hand begins mapping the delicate architecture of your wrist and the soft terrain of your inner arm, each touch an anchor line pulling you back from the swirling eddy of anonymous voices and digital dissection.

When another tear escapes his lips find it immediately, kissing it away with such gentle reverence that your breath catches in your throat because this — these small, sacred moments that exist beyond the reach of clips and edits and analysis — this belongs to you alone.

His forehead comes to rest against your temple while his breath warms your ear, and in this space between heartbeats he simply waits, holding you steady until you're ready to find your voice again.

"Sometimes I forget," you whisper into the night air, your voice barely louder than the distant whisper of waves, "that there are thousands of versions of me out there now — versions I didn't make, versions I can't control," and you feel him shift closer as your fingers tighten around his, grounding yourself in his warmth while you search for the right words to explain this peculiar kind of haunting.

"I'll be doing something completely normal, like laughing at Lu’s terrible puns or helping you fold laundry, and then I'll remember that someone somewhere is probably analyzing that moment, breaking it down frame by frame, trying to find hidden meanings in the way I look at you both," and your voice catches as you continue, "and suddenly I'm not sure if I'm being genuine anymore or if I'm performing for an audience that isn't even there."

The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy with the weight of two years' worth of archived moments and dissected smiles, until you finally turn to meet his eyes in the moonlight, "I love what we have — me and- and you and Lu — I love it so much it terrifies me sometimes, but I hate that I have to share it with people who think they know us better than we know ourselves," and your voice drops even lower as you admit the fear that's been gnawing at your heart, "I'm scared that one day I'll lose track of which version of me is real."

His jaw tightens for a moment before he brings your joined hands to his lips, brushing a sleepy kiss against your palm.

"Lemme tell you something,” His voice is still rough with sleep, warm against your skin. "We see the real you. The you who can't sit still during horror movies but insists on watching them anyway. Who somehow got my boomer dad addicted to your stupid matching game on his phone." You can feel his drowsy smile against your wrist as he continues, softer now. "Who shows up to every protest even though crowds make you anxious. Who just — knows exactly when to push us and when to let us be stupid and stubborn.“

He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing away tears as his eyes hold yours in the darkness, heavy-lidded but certain, "Let them have their theories and their dumb fucking edits. The real you — that’s ours. That’s yours." his voice drops to barely more than a whisper as he presses his forehead against your own, "and no amount of online brain rot can touch what we have.”

There’s another moment of silence, but within it, you can sense Luigi behind you. Before you can turn away from Hasan, a sleepy grumble cuts through the quiet. "Can you two please come back to b-“ His voice catches as he notices your tears, shifting instantly from annoyed to concerned. "Hey, what happened?"

"Doomscrolling," Hasan explains quietly, reaching for Luigi who interlaces their fingers without hesitation, his other hand finding the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin; and suddenly you're all connected — a closed circuit of warmth and contact in the dim light. "Reddit again.”

Luigi makes a soft, frustrated sound, and you can practically feel him biting back the "I told you so" that's written all over his face. But he just tightens his grip slightly where his thumb is tracing circles against your skin, and you're grateful he chooses to pull you closer instead of lecture.

The birds are just starting to wake in the lemon trees as Hasan and Luigi hold you between them, all soft touches and careful attention. Hasan's lips find your temple while Luigi's nose traces along your jaw, their hands steady and sure against your skin.

"Come back to bed, please," Luigi requests softly with those perfect manners of his, even while his eyes promise something decidedly improper as they flick between you and Hasan. "Think we can give you something better to think about.”

You let them guide you back to bed, Hasan's fingers threaded through yours while Luigi's hand stays steady at the small of your back.

There's something almost reverent in how they settle you between them, the familiar dance of bodies finding their places. The birdsong from the lemon trees filters through the window, a gentle soundtrack to the way Hasan's lips trace your shoulder, how Luigi's fingers card through your hair with careful purpose.

You’ll remember this forever.

"Just be here," Luigi murmurs against your temple, and Hasan hums in agreement, his hand sliding warm and sure across your hip. “Focus on this.”

Their touches are deliberately slow, patient but intent in a way that makes your breath catch, that pushes thoughts of comments and Reddit far from your mind.

The earlier hurt starts to fade under their attention, replaced by the heat of skin on skin and the steady reminder of exactly where you belong, and always have.

You're cocooned in their warmth, their bodies pressed close in a way that should feel overwhelming but never has — perhaps because being overwhelmed by them has always felt like being home.

“You know how much we care about you," Hasan murmurs, punctuating each word with soft kisses beneath your ear. His nose nuzzles against the sensitive skin there, drawing out a quiet laugh that makes both of them smile. "How much we love you."

The tenderness in his voice makes something tighten in your chest.

Your shoulders twitch slightly from the ticklish brush of his breath, but you lean into the sensation anyway. "I do," you whisper back, the words carrying the weight of a vow. Your voice catches, steadies. "I do."

"Do you?" Luigi breathes against your skin, teeth grazing your earlobe in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His voice carries something deeper than the question itself, an understanding that makes your breath catch.

There's a weighted silence, broken only by a quiet sniffle. Of course you know — it's in every touch, every shared morning, every small gesture of care.

But Luigi's question reaches past that surface certainty, down to where darker thoughts curl and whisper; where doubt breeds in the shadows, insisting that this can't last, that three hearts can't possibly hold each other with equal weight, that something this complete must surely fracture under its own intensity.

Their bodies press closer with shared intent, a wordless devotion passing between them as they bracket you like prayer. "Can you stay quiet for us?" Luigi breathes, and the hard length of him against your thigh makes his desire clear.

Hasan has also seemed to abandoned all pretense of restraint, his hands mapping your skin with desperate reverence.

"Let us remind you, baby.” Hasan murmurs against your sternum, each word punctuated by open-mouthed kisses trailing heat between your ribs. "No better way than to show you."

Your vision swims, tears of earlier doubt transformed into something warmer as you gaze at the sky through the window, its gentle glow a preview of the approaching dawn. Soon enough, Luigi's Nonna will perform her current morning ritual — slipping silently into the guest villa to drop off calazione with careful discretion, then vanishing back home before anyone else stirs.

"I can be quiet," you whisper, the words soft but certain. “Yes.”

The internet's constant chatter fades to nothing — those vicious subreddits, the endless stream of TikToks, the edited moments set to whatever melancholic song fits the narrative they're trying to build.

You forget about the screenshots of Hasan's laughter at your jokes, the clips of Luigi's hands guiding yours to fix your mic on stream, all those private moments picked apart by people who think they know.

Your focus shifts entirely to the present — to their warmth surrounding you, to the way they touch you like something precious.

When a hand slides between your thighs, finding you wet and ready, it draws matching groans from them both, their bodies pressing closer as if to remind you who you belong to.

Their praise washes over you like sunlight, making you arch into their touch.

Hasan's hands are firm but reverent as he holds you steady, while Luigi's touch remains impossibly gentle, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin. When a soft sound escapes you, Luigi catches it with his lips, swallowing the noise while Hasan works to take you apart.

"Love that sound," Luigi murmurs against your mouth, his hands sliding warm and sure along your sides. The contrast between their touches — Hasan's intensity and Luigi's tenderness.

There's a languid quality to Luigi's kisses, born of exhaustion but no less intimate for it.

His eyes stay fixed on you, missing nothing despite his weariness, and his hands move with careful purpose — one moment buried in Hasan's messy curls, the next gentle against your jaw as he draws you into another kiss, swallowing each soft noise you make.

Even through his fatigue, his focus is absolute, cataloguing every reaction, every tremor, every sign of pleasure they draw from you.

“Making me jealous.” Luigi whispers, his voice so gentle and soft it’s hardly there, but you’d recognize his voice in a sea of them — you’d know it anywhere.

Hasan’s mouth is warm against you, his tongue lapping small, lazy trails from your entrance that tenses around his tongue, and up again where he sucks on your clit, his eyes drawn to amused slits, his glasses discarded somewhere on the bed, where you tell yourself you won’t break them again.

Hasan guides Luigi's hand between your thighs with purpose, and Luigi's fingers slip inside you with that particular early-morning rhythm — present but unhurried, hovering in that space between sleep and full awareness, his touch carrying all the familiar comfort of dawn-lit moments like these.

Your breath catches sharply when he curls his fingers just so, and Hasan's response is immediate — his tongue moving in slower, more deliberate patterns, occasionally dipping down to taste where Luigi's fingers disappear inside you.

You can tell, now, though that Luigi has riled himself up just by the sound of you, and the sight of Hasan between your thighs. “Has,” he whispers, reaching down to rake his fingers through Hasan’s hair, the same fingers sticky with the heat of your arousal. “C’mon.” He whispers, almost pleading.

These days, Luigi has developed an almost reverent fascination with watching Hasan finish inside you — a desire he'd been embarrassed to voice until recently.

"I just like seeing you both feel good," he'd confessed weeks ago, voice barely above a whisper, cheeks stained pink as he avoided your eyes.

But his admission had been met with nothing but tender appreciation, with soft kisses and eager promises to give him exactly what he wanted.

His fingers card through Hasan's hair with purpose now, still wet from being inside you, his pleading whisper heavy with the weight of that shared secret, that particular desire you've both learned to recognize in every subtle tell.

But you've grown to understand the deeper currents of his fascination — how his cheeks flush darker than they did during that first hesitant admission, how his jaw goes slack with want as he watches, the way his pupils swallow the warm hazel of his eyes, and how his breathing turns ragged and uneven.

It's more than simple voyeurism — it’s about witnessing something precious being cherished, about sharing in that moment of complete surrender even from the outside.

It's an intimacy that makes your heart clench to contemplate.

"Ohh," Hasan breathes, his lips glistening as he nuzzles against your inner thigh, keeping your legs spread with that particular gentle strength of his — firm but never bruising.

The fresh laundry scent of the sheets is giving way to something headier, a mixture of arousal and European summer skin. "Lu gets just as desperate as you sometimes," he murmurs, his gaze traveling from your flushed face to where Luigi is leaving a trail of soft kisses across your shoulder, working his way down to brush his lips over your nipples.

The observation makes Luigi pause his ministrations, a shaky exhale warming your skin, and you can see the way his fingers tighten slightly where they're still tangled in Hasan's curls.

Luigi's movements have gone desperate and uncoordinated, his hips rocking against you with barely contained need as he makes no attempt to deny Hasan's words.

You both get like this sometimes — greedy for attention, for touch, for closeness, working in tandem to draw every ounce of affection from Hasan while consuming each other just as hungrily until the lines between giving and taking blur completely.

"Not needy," he mumbles against your skin, but you can hear the smile in his voice, feel it curve against your shoulder. "Just have needs." The distinction makes you laugh breathlessly, even as his teeth graze your collarbone.

You slide your fingers into Luigi's dark curls, gently pulling until he has to emerge from where he's hidden against your neck. "Can't help yourself, can you?" Your voice is soft as you study him — the heavy-lidded exhaustion in his eyes, the way arousal fights against bone-deep tiredness beneath his summer-warmed skin. He looks almost drunk on the combination, barely able to keep his eyes open but unable to look away. "Want to watch Hassy fill me up, hmm?”

The sound Luigi makes is somewhere between a hum and a giggle, childishly delighted at getting exactly what he wants. "Mhmm," he tries to burrow back into your neck, shy even now, but you tighten your grip on his curls, holding him where he can see everything.

Hasan takes advantage of the moment to position himself between your thighs, his cock teasing against your entrance.

"One condition," you murmur through a gentle gasp, tightening your grip in his curls. His eyes stay heavy-lidded with exhaustion and want, but his grin spreads wider, more knowing.

"Yes?" The word comes out breathless as Hasan's hand finds its way to his ass, squeezing possessively. Luigi's hips stutter against your thigh, his own neediness becoming more apparent with each passing moment.

"You'll clean up his mess when we're all done." You keep your fingers wound tight in his hair, holding him so his throat is beautifully exposed, vulnerable. That knowing smile never falters as he nods as much as your grip allows, his submission making something hot curl in your stomach.

Hasan sinks into you with a certainty that feels like coming home, and somehow it's Luigi who makes the loudest sound — a hot, desperate whine that cuts through the morning air.

His exhaustion seems to evaporate, replaced by laser-focused attention even as his touches remain butterfly-soft against your skin.

He pants against your ear, punctuating your gasps with breathless little laughs of delight while Hasan sets a rhythm that's deep and unhurried.

The dawn light filters through gossamer curtains that dance in the morning breeze, carrying with it the fresh scent of dew and a chorus of birdsong that's grown bolder with the rising sun.

Sunlight gilds your skin as Luigi fights to keep his eyes open, determined to memorize every detail of the sight before him, his mouth tracing endless patterns across every part of you he can reach, his pinkie hooked around Hasan's in that small, sweet connection they always seem to maintain.

The noises spilling from your lips have gone quiet and yearning, heavy with exhaustion but edged with desperate need as you grasp for both their hands, and they hold you steady as pleasure builds, but when it finally breaks, your drawn-out whine seems to echo in your chest.

Your thighs tremble wider as waves of sensation roll through you, and Hasan's answering warmth flooding inside you feels like the most perfect affirmation — a reminder that this love, this connection, this moment exists in a space no outside force could ever touch or taint.

"I love you," Luigi breathes against your lips, the words carrying all the weight of prayer. He shifts to press his forehead to Hasan's, nose brushing nose as he repeats those same words with equal devotion, like offerings laid at an altar.

True to his word, he moves between your thighs the moment Hasan settles beside you, making soft sounds of contentment as he keeps his promise.

When he finally lifts his head, his lips and cheeks gleam in the morning light, evidence of his dedication painted across his skin as he rests his cheek against your thigh, eyelids growing heavy once more, the picture of satisfied exhaustion. "Look at you," Hasan murmurs, voice warm with affection, and you find yourself sharing his appreciation for the sight — Luigi debauched and drowsy, marked by both of you in the gentlest way possible.

His hazel eyes find yours, then Hasan's, peering up through dark lashes with that practiced false innocence as he rests against your thigh.

The way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth is pure performance — he lost any real claim to innocence long ago, but he plays the part beautifully.

"Fuck," Hasan breathes, already reaching for his phone to capture the sight. "If it wouldn't cause an international incident, this would be my lock screen." The photo joins the others in that carefully guarded folder — a private collection of moments like these, Luigi, yourself and him raw and honest and breathtaking in ways the world doesn't get to see.

[moanz111]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 20

chapter 20 ✧ unforeseen circumstances - written + texts

< previous ✧ m.list ✧ next >

synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

wc ✧ 4.2 k (i apologise)

warnings ✧ english is not my native language so there could be mistakes; attempt for humour; reader is confused af and so is san; swearing; mentioned fear of heights (reader is a bit scared but the description is very brief and she's riding a ferris wheel); reader is in an emotional crisis lowkey; lmk if i've missed something

If you got a penny every time you got yourself into an extremely uncomfortable situation, you would’ve had at least 20 by now and it was just 1 pm. 

You weren't going home anytime soon. 

“Y/n, stop spacing out. We still have 2 more hours,” Beomgyu whispered in your ear, nudging you with his elbow. You had agreed to come to this so-called “Love Alarm” dating event just to make him happy and maybe test your own alarm again, but you hadn’t had any idea it was going to be this excruciating for your poor soul. You tried your best to smile, talk to people when they showed interest but with each interaction your social battery was rapidly dying. Beomgyu, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life which made you feel a little guilty for having running away thoughts.

The park was bustling with students and music could be heard playing from speakers placed on the ground. Most of the benches were occupied by groups of friends or newly found matches that the alarm had brought together. A pinch of jealousy stung your heart by the sight of them. 

Wish my alarm and I weren't in a dysfunctional toxic relationship.

You let your eyes wander, trying to spot familiar faces even though the thought of someone you knew seeing you there, mortified you. The possibility of that wasn’t high but never zero since all of your university’s students were invited and granted an entry. You found it kind of funny - the way so many were positive their soulmate was walking the same ground as them right now and what they were waiting for was the love alarm to bring them together. For some that would be the case but others were surely up for disappointment. No one really knew how the whole mechanism worked and it appeared that everything was random - the time, the place but the alarm was certain of one thing - the person. 

Shaking your head as if it could chase away your thoughts, you took in the atmosphere and breathed in the fresh early spring air, the warm breeze ruffling  your hair which you moved out of your face, annoyed. 

“Can’t we go sit down and eat? If I talk to one more man, I’ll explode,” you said, stopping in your tracks and pointing towards an empty blanket on the grass near you. A bunch of people were lying down on the field, chatting, eating or playing board games. You wished you had brought your cards deck. A rematch with Beomgyu was all you wanted after he had beaten you in a game of war last weekend. 

“Fine,” Beomgyu rolled his eyes, strolling towards it and you followed quietly behind him. If you made him talk enough and maybe made him ride the ferris wheel with you, maybe he would get tired enough so both of you could go home. As if sensing your plan, he abruptly turned around, “Stop scheming, we aren't leaving.”

You let out a sigh and sat down on the white blanket with colourful flowers drawn on it. It was warm and fluffy and it tickled your hands as you plopped yourself down, supporting your body on your elbows. Maybe if you fell asleep then…

“Hey, isn't that Wooyoung?”

Yeah, your plan was definitely going down the drain. 

If Wooyoung saw you here, he would make fun of you for centuries and he could even tell Mingi about it. Or even worse. Choi San.

Choi San? Who was currently walking beside his friend, apparently not having spotted you yet.

He had a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket on, his black jeans matching it. A beanie of the same colour was covering his hair and you noticed a necklace dangling around his neck. 

He looked…good?

... handsome? 

You shoved your thoughts away and focused on Wooyoung instead who wore his usual black Chrome Hearts hoodie and some baggy jeans, a beanie on his head. The two boys’ outfits matched which made you smile to yourself. But who were you to laugh when you and Beomgyu weren't any better. Your closets were basically almost identical. 

“Over here,” Beomgyu shouted as he got up to catch their attention. This was going to be the most mortifying interaction of the day. 

Another penny added.

“Beomgyu, don't call them over here,” you whispered as you got up to a seated position, tugging at his jeans. 

“Don’t be so obsessed with me, they’re my friends too.”

You snorted at his answer, turning to look at the boys who were approaching you. Wooyoung was enthusiastically waving in your direction while San looked indifferent to what was about to happen.

Lately, it was harder to be around him. After he made the step to try and make amends with you, you weren't sure how to behave around him. Did that make you friends again? Or maybe just acquaintances? Whatever it was you tried your hardest to be on your best behaviour especially for Wooyoung and Mingi’s sake. For Seonghwa’s too. You had no idea how he managed to stay so composed while you bickered over nothing during tutoring. Maybe he was due his apology soon.

“Now, now, look who we have here,” Wooyoung exclaimed as he stood in front of you, grinning. San was next to him, greeting Beomgyu with a hug. “I’m hurt, Y/n. You could've just asked me out instead of coming here.”

“You and Y/n? I’d rather bleach my eyes than witness this,” Beomgyu chimed in before you got the chance to respond to which Wooyoung laughed.

“Makes two of us,” San added, a slight annoyance apparent in his tone, and you looked at him curiously. For the first time in a while you weren't met with his cold eyes, piercing right through you. His gaze was warm, maybe even friendly? 

My brain is playing tricks on me.

“Don’t be so jealous, Sannie,” Wooyoung said, tapping him on the shoulder which earned him a smack on the neck. “Ouch?”

“Deserved,” Beomgyu laughed and looked over at you. “Cat got your tongue? Oh, right, she said she doesn't want to talk to men anymore today.”

“Trust me, you will get the longest silent treatment out of everyone here.”

“Mean.”

“So what are you two doing here?” Wooyoung asked, changing the topic just as you and Beomgyu were about to start bickering again. Truly fascinating how the biggest instigators turned into peacemakers in dire situations. 

“Y/n wants a boyfriend and since I’m an amazing friend, I came to judge her questionable taste,” Beomgyu teased and you pulled at the fabric of his jeans again, making him slightly lose his balance. 

“He wanted to say he was the one who dragged me here because he can't go anywhere alone,” you said in a matter of fact tone which got a chuckle out of Wooyoung. 

“This version is more believable.”

“And what about you two,” you asked, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible even though curiosity burned in you. You could imagine Wooyoung coming to an event like that but San? It wasn’t like you knew him that well anyway, maybe he was looking for a partner. For some reason, the thought of that made your stomach twist a little. 

Huh…?

“I dragged San here,” Wooyoung announced proudly and wrapped his hand around his friend’s wide shoulders and San threw him a sarcastic smile. “Don't tell anyone though, it's between the four of us.”

“Yeah, and the 10 other people who saw us here and greeted you,” San added.

“Oh, well…That’s something I can’t control. Having a pretty face means attracting attention.”

“Anyway, why don't we hang out for some time? Y/n and I were just about to eat,” Beomgyu suggested suddenly and all you could do was to side eye him. Sure, of course they were his friends but you and San in the same space was never a good idea.

“A spectacular idea!” Wooyoung’s enthusiasm was contagious. You had to calm down and enjoy the moment, Choi San wasn't the cause of every problem in the universe and he wasn't even that bad. He had a good sense of humour and he had a pretty laugh and dimples and you loved his habit of him closing his eyes when he found something funny and-

“Y/n to Earth…” Beomgyu’s voice brought you back to reality and you shook your head. What was in the air today? Maybe it was the pollen that had you acting this weirdly? “You totally spaced out.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said after coughing quietly to clear your voice and you shifted your focus to Wooyoung who you thought had probably said something moments ago, judging by the amused expression on his face. Staring at your shoes all day and spacing out wasn't going to make things better. “What were you saying?”

“I said me and Beomgyu will go grab some food from the trucks and you and San can stay here and wait,” he repeated and you shifted uncomfortably in your place. Yes, the universe was testing you.

Sure, you had been alone with him plenty of times be it for tutoring or when you used to hang out before but now it felt different. Your nerves were going to eat you inside out. 

San had an unreadable expression on his face when you looked at him and Beomgyu just winked (?) at you when you turned to him so you just shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’m okay with that, too,” added San and Beomgyu and Wooyoung looked at each other, a knowing smile forming on both of their lips. 

“Then we’re set,” Beomgyu clapped his hands and patted you on the shoulder as he bent to pick up his bag from the ground. “Behave yourself.”

“What am I? A dog?”

“Obviously. Then, see you in a bit.” As both Beomgyu and Wooyoung turned their back on you and walked towards the food trucks, you felt abandoned. Maybe that was a little dramatic. San was just San. No need to be so stressed. You could just sit in silence and that was going to be it. No need to have a conversation. 

“So how are you doing?” San asked as he laid down on his side next to you, his hand supporting his head. You could sense the scent of his perfume and his biceps were basically almost ripping his jacket in this position. His face was glowing, his clear skin illuminated by the sunlight, gently coming through the tree’s branches. Mentally, you slapped yourself across the face. Staring was rude. 

“I’m alright,” you answered, trying to find strength again. You seriously needed to stand up. Choi San shouldn't have had that much power over your mind. “Exhausted after the social torture Beomgyu put me through.”

San chuckled at your comment, his dimples slightly appearing. “I guess I understand why he and Wooyoung get along.”

“They’re friends?�� 

“Shouldn't you know that,” he asked, confused, one of his eyebrows raised. You knew they knew each other. Obviously, Beomgyu was close with San so it was only natural for him to be around Wooyoung too but your friend never talked about this, given how your relationship with San was. 

“I just had no idea they were that close,” you said simply. San regarded you curiously for a moment before speaking again. “I think they’ve got closer recently. I don't know how or why but they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Then they’re definitely up to no good.” This was truly interesting. Beomgyu was notorious for doing things behind your back so you wondered if this was the case this time around too. Him making remarks about your dating life all the time, telling you to stop “adding more men to the equation”, him giving Wooyoung your number, you joining his talent show team, him flirting all the time, San, his best friend and your arch nemesis, suddenly following you on your social media and being kind of friendly, and now Beomgyu dragging you here and Wooyoung was miraculously here too? Was he…No way. There was no way.

Was he setting you up with Wooyoung? 

The thought made you shiver. There was just no way for this to be happening. 

You stopped yourself from gasping at the realisation and instead closed your eyes to take a deep breath. Beomgyu was going to get an earful from you very soon.

Maybe you could ask San about it? But what were you going to say to him?

Hey, I think my best friend is trying to set me up with your best friend so I wanted to ask you if he’s in love with me?

…

I sound so delusional and out of my mind.

You chose silence and turned to look at San who was staring at the small stage being set up a few meters away from you. There was going to be a concert later in the afternoon organised by the university’s band and you wondered if Beomgyu would make you stick around for this long to watch it. 

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your tote bag and you took it out, seeing you’ve got a text from Beomgyu.

You sighed, locking your phone and turning to San again. “Beomgyu said Wooyoung feels sick so they went back to the dorms.”

“What? Is he okay? I should go there too,” San said and took out his phone. 

“He said they didn't need help and he just needed to take some pills. But you can text him, just in case…” you trailed off, unsure of what to do now. San didn't answer, instead focusing on his phone, seemingly reading a text. His eyebrows furrowed more and more with each movement of his eyes and he rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Yeah, he has texted me. Apparently, he doesn't need any more assistance and will take a nap.”

“Well, then I won't keep you if you want to go home too,” you said even though you weren't sure if you wanted to do that yet. Yes, you absolutely hated the speed dating and Beomgyu dragging you around but this was also a chance to maybe find out what Choi San’s issue with you was. If you cornered him…

That sounds too insane.

“No! I mean,” San hesitated. “We can at least grab some lunch together. Wouldn't hurt, would it?”

“I suppose not,” you said, smiling slightly and surprisingly San did the same.

Hanging out with your so-called arch nemesis wasn't as bad as you thought it could be. 

San ordered for you, paid for your lunch, treated you to some bubble tea and then got you ice cream. Yeah, maybe it sounded like wallet abuse on your part but in reality he just kept insisting on doing all this and wouldn't hear any of your protests. It was a bit flustering even if you were secretly enjoying it. His company was also nice. He was respectful, kept the conversation going and surprisingly he seemed to be having a good time too. 

Time seemed to pass by quickly while you were together. You found yourself talking about anything and everything with him - he told you about his current florist job, how annoying some customers were and how much he adored making bouquets and arrangements, and you told him about your love for clothes and fashion and how you still haven’t returned Hongjoong his sewing machine. You joked, you laughed and you felt liberated in a way. For the first time in a while  you didn’t have to tiptoe around San, too afraid that the thin ice beneath your feet was going to crumble.

Is this what happens when we aren't so stubborn?

Currently, you were sitting on a bench, taking in the atmosphere around you in comfortable silence as the last sunbeams were illuminating the sky. The sunset painted it in shades of orange, pink and purple and you sighed contently, bopping your head in the rhythm of the song that the university’s band was rehearsing. A small group of people had already gathered and was clapping in encouragement after each song. San was humming quietly next to you, tapping with his foot and you snorted. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?”

“What do you mean,” he said surprised and turned to look at you. His natural soft blush could be seen on his cheeks and your heart warmed up at the sight. For probably the 10th time today. He had taken his beanie earlier and now his messy locks were falling freely around his face.

“Being good at dancing and now even at singing? Can’t you leave something for the rest of us?”

Your comment earned you a chuckle from San, his fist coming up to cover his lips. you could swear his cheeks turned into a deeper shade of red. “No need to exaggerate, Y/n. Lying is bad.”

“Hey, I’m being serious,” you exclaimed. “But better hide that talent from Beomgyu. He would get even more mad that we aren’t in the same team for the talent show. I heard he has been looking for a vocalist.”

“And while we’re still on the topic,” San said, running his hand through his dark hair. “Why did you agree to join our team?”

“It was a good opportunity to practice my skills. Plus, Wooyoung was way too enthusiastic for me to turn him down.”

“Even though you have to spend more time with me too?” When you met his eyes, a glint of hope and maybe hurt could be read in them. When had things gone so irrevocably wrong with both of you? 

“Listen,” you started, unsure of what to say. There wasn’t truly a right or wrong answer. “I don’t mind spending time with you, it’s just so…”

“Awkward?” “You could say so. But it’s also hard because I have no idea what I have done to you. I want to fix this,” you gestured to the space between you two. “But again - you aren’t helping. Maybe I’m not doing it either. We’re both stubborn.”

“Yes, we are I suppose,” San agreed, seemingly deep in thought. “I just don’t know how much I can tell you and how much you know…”

“What do you mean?”

A ding interrupted San who had just opened his mouth to answer. “I’m sorry.”

You hurriedly took your phone out of your pocket and saw you had 5 new texts from none other than Beomgyu.

Feeling your heart picking up its pace, you clenched your jaw. You were so so so so wrong earlier. Beomgyu wasn’t setting you up with Wooyoung. 

It was San all along.

The tutoring, the way Beomgyu was so opposed of you hanging out with Yeonjun, the way he was trying his hardest to force you and San to interact...

You wondered if Wooyoung was his accomplice then and what had he told San? Did San know anything? 

“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale,” San’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you locked your phone, forcing yourself to look at his now concerned face as he put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Everything’s alright. It’s just Beomgyu being a menace.” You smiled lightly and you fought the urge to get up and run away. 

Even if the situation was becoming severely uncomfortable with each passing second, this all didn’t automatically overrule how happy you were with San today. You got to see his usual sweet self and not whatever was presented to you on the daily. You also had got so close to him opening up to you so you couldn’t just leave him like that. Your heart was greedy to spend some more time with him before you had to deal with whatever Beomgyu thought he was doing. 

“Are you scared of heights?” Your sudden question made San furrowed his brows confused and you just pointed to the ferris wheel shyly. 

As San took your hand gently and led you to the tickets queue, all you could see were his deep dimples.

Yes, you were positive your heart was going to burst today.

You were a little scared of heights. 

But exposure therapy worked, right? It had to because currently you were hanging meters away from the ground and the only thing you could think about was how you were almost able to feel San’s breath hitting your face. The cabin was rather small and his form being much bigger than yours meant he was taking most of the space even if you were sitting across from each other. Your legs were between his and occasionally your knees would touch which sent a jolt down your spine that you were desperately trying to ignore. 

Instead, you focused on the view before you - the sun had completely disappeared under the moon’s watchful gaze and now the city’s  and the campus’ lights were shimmering like stars in the distance. San’s surprised squeaks would make you giggle now and then when he was showing you something he had spotted while the ferris wheel was spinning slowly. 

“This is my first time riding a ferris wheel,” San said quietly, drawing your attention back to him. Even though the cabin lacked lighting, you could still see the playfulness in his eyes as he looked at you intently. 

“It’s my first time too,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. Was it always this hot here? 

“Really? That’s rather special, Y/n,” San teased you. “Wouldn’t you rather share this moment with someone else? I’ll start thinking we’re friends.” “Well,” you coughed, clearing up your voice. “I’d say I would like to consider us friends given how civilised we were today.”

San laughed loudly, his whole body shaking, “That’s true. Then - friends?”

“Friends,” you answered grinning and took his extended hand to shake it, sealing your deal. His hand was hugging yours completely and you wished you could stay like this a little longer when you lost contact with his skin. “You still haven’t told me the whole story behind our enemies era though.”

“Shouldn’t you tell me your point of view too?

“I was just returning the energy you were giving me.”

“Deserved,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s say this can wait for another time. I don’t want to ruin this moment like any other we’ve had lately.”

Something passed in his eyes, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher but when were you able to do it when it came to San?

So now, locking eyes with him once again, you felt electricity buzzing between the two of you as he leaned in closer to you. Unspoken words were hanging around you and filled the space but you shoved those aside and noticed his gaze going back and forth between your eyes and lips. You felt your cheeks heating up under his stare and you held your breath, too scared to make even the quietest noise. Your faces were mere centimeters away from each other and

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you cursed your phone mentally. You were sure you put it on dnd mode earlier.

“Don’t worry. Answer it,” San said softly and smiled at you, leaning back on his seat and putting some distance between you two. It wasn’t like you were going to kiss anyway. Right?

Nodding, you reached for your bag, forgotten on the seat next to you and your hand was searching for it impatiently until you felt it and took it out. Just as your trembling fingers were about to unlock it, the cabin shook causing you to drop your phone on the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay. I think we’ll have to get off soon,” San explained as he reached down to grab your phone for you. “And you really need to stop apologising.”

At this moment the doors opened and the employee announced that 20 minutes had passed so the fun was officially over. You stepped out first, feeling a little dizzy and walked to the side so you could wait for San without blocking the way. 

Seconds after, he came next to you, handing you your phone with an unreadable expression, “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” you said, panic arousing inside you. 

What if it was Beomgyu again and he saw his weird texts? Or even worse - it was the group chat since Beomgyu never knows when to shut up-

“I’ll go get us some water, you can wait here if you want to,” San said as he looked around. “There’s an empty bench there.”

“I’ll go sit there then.” 

Parting ways with him even for a bit, gave you room to process what had just happened in the cabin and you sat down with a sigh. Your feet hurt because you chose to wear your new shoes today out of all days and more than anything you felt so many different emotions at once that you had no idea which one to focus on first and it made you even more mentally exhausted. You weren’t sure what was happening between the two of you but whatever it was - it was gaining momentum way too quickly. 

Are we crazy? Yesterday we got into yet another argument and today…

Reading your texts, you decided, was the easiest task for now but as you unlocked your phone, everything came crashing down around you once again. 

Your blood froze as the severity of the situation hit you. The answer had been right under your nose this whole time.

San was possibly your soulmate.

note ✧ i know this got very long and i feel like it's 5 chapters in one but i really want to get things moving so please understand 😭 i haven't written a full length chapter in a while so feedback is greatly appreciated, i hope this isn't that bad (the struggle was real and im not sure im satisfied but)! i hope you enjoyed reading it <3

taglist ✧ @jjaelly ; @cookiechristie ; @downbadreading ; @tubatu-wari-wari ; @giuliadesu ; @alyssajavenss ; @baguette-atiny ; @miriamxsworld ; @mrowwww ; @lynnsqueendom ; @mikaymee ; @stfu-rina ; @moonis-world ; @paragonofroyalty ; @chermonroe ; @lunaryoongie ; @nushkstardust ; @huachengsbestie01 ; @nickiminajleftasscheek ; @seonghwifey ; @stopeatread ; @wildesreblogs ; @staytinyluv ; @flamingi

taglist is open! <3

[separatist-apologist]

Azris fic recs please? I am more of a plot person though obviously I don't dislike the porn. The best plots you have read recs.

Anyone is welcome to add to this list if they'd like! This isn't comprehensive, just some of the ones I've really enjoyed, with a mix of plot (and some porn sorry anon but I am a simple girl).

Our Bodies, Possessed By Light by @iftheshoef1tz

After Koschei’s war, Prythian rebuilds. While the Inner Circle grapples with the burden of responsibility, they are forced to face the consequences of their choices, both past and present. Azriel finds himself at the center of trouble brewing in the Hewn City, with a certain Vanserra brother sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.

There is always a price for freedom.

Decode This Case by @witch-and-her-witcher

There couldn't be worse timing for the new allegations against Night Co's coder as Azriel struggles with his emotional state of isolation and loneliness as his family and friends seem to move on without him. Enter Eris Vanserra to make Azriel's life even more complicated, smug and regrettably handsome as ever.

Eris has impeccable timing - or is it all just careful calculations? Whatever has aligned their reunion, he knows nothing will be accomplished until he can pull Azriel from his fog.

Only Know You Love Him When You Let Him Go by @fieldofdaisiies

Almost exactly a year after their painful breakup, Azriel and Eris unexpectedly meet again and find themselves trapped together in a snowstorm. With no choice but to spend time together in a small space, the long hours lead to conversations of their past, memories of their adventures togethers, unresolved feelings and heartbreak…

Once More To See You by @buffy-vanserra

Days after Feyre and Lucien are rescued from the Winter Court border, Eris finds Azriel snooping in his father’s woods. They fall into old habits and discuss a path forward.

Or: The story of how Eris entered his alliance with the Night Court

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows by @jules-writes-stories

Eris Vanserra has been plotting to overthrow his father for centuries. But when the High Lord’s removal becomes a matter of life and death, Eris allies with the Day Court. In his desperate quest, he unearths secrets that will change the course of Autumn Court history, and all of Prythian's, even as his mating bond pulls him towards a male who will only ever see him as a cruel prince.

Rhysand becomes suspicious, ordering his spymaster to keep watch of the Autumn prince. But the more time Azriel spends with him, the more he is drawn to Eris’s cause.

When desire and duty collide, the Shadowsinger is faced with an impossible choice. Will Azriel take Eris at his word, or fulfill his role as Night’s brutal enforcer? And what will become of Autumn’s heir?

games without frontiers by @houseofhurricane

Azriel and Eris, in the Autumn Court at the winter solstice. But who has the knife?

My Heart's Aflame, My Body's Strained (But God I Like It) by @acourtofladydeath

What happened when Azriel brought Eris back to the Hewn City after saving him from Koschei at the end of ACOSF?

I Want To Believe by @secret-third-thing

Azriel travels to Boston to solve a murder case and leaves having experienced Alien dick. Or.... X-files / Roswell, but make it acotar.

Betting Like You Know The Odds by @fourteentrout

"But, if you so choose to believe my display of weakness was entirely genuine, then perhaps a rematch is in order." Eris suggested to Nesta, his mouth twisting into a smile a bit different from his others of the night. Something less soft around the edges, less weighed down by inebriation.

"Well, then, one could argue that it would be just as unfair. You're a High Lord now, after all." Rhys pointed out. Eris' smile melted away naturally, and he reclined back in his spot, throwing a hand around the back of the sofa.

"Why don't we ask him what he thinks? Shadowsinger," Eris called, jutting his chin right towards where Azriel stood, wreathed in shadows. "What are the odds that you could hold up in a fight now that I'm a High Lord?"

Azriel stood rooted to the spot, as if he were in a nightmare. He stared directly at Eris' smoldering eyes. Eris stared back.

Say it With Your Fists for Once by @mudandmire

After their close-call with Briallyn and Koschei's plot, Azriel and Eris crash-land somewhere near the western coast and have an all-out brawl about it.

After blood and tension cools, Azriel begins to put pieces together much to Eris's trepidation and the shadow's delight.

Counter Tension by @ninthcircleofprythian

Eris is wound up tight in more ways than one

Your Scars on My Pulse by @shadowsandlint

For Azris Week 2024. A story following each prompt, where Eris Vanserra navigates an increasingly more confusing relationship with his nemesis-turned-ally.

Eris is haunted by what happened between him and Azriel at the High Lord Meeting, and feels completely overtaken by the male's accursed presence. His usual snarky comments land him in trouble when the furious shadowsinger wraps his raging hands around his neck in front of the whole assembly.

"A mixture of surprise and panic had taken over Eris, sending his body into a wild, meaningless thrashing, but before he could hope to regain control of his limbs, a third, more confusing feeling had entered him. Azriel’s all-consuming presence had sent a shock wave into the place in his chest where air was supposed to be, and in its absence, a spark of joy had lit up the vacated darkness. The recognition of this had so thoroughly bewildered Eris that all hope of fighting had evaporated, and the bewilderment hadn’t left him since."

Tell me what you want by @lady-of-tearshed

Azriel had too much to drink at a boring High Lord meeting. He decides it would be a great idea to drag Eris Vanserra, new High Lord of the Autumn Court, to an empty bedroom and kiss him with everything he has.

[lilislegacy]

I would SELL MY SOUL for a percy vs chrysaor rematch. like imagine 19/20 year old percy - who’s practiced his sword fighting technique almost every day since moving to new rome - facing chrysaor again. like think about how awesome that would be? (somebody play “he’s a pirate” from the pirates soundtrack.) two legendary sons of poseidon locked in the most legendary sword fight in olympian history. a major upset to nature. and percy would disarm him which probably hasn’t happened in centuries - If ever - and it would be the biggest mic drop ever.

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 2]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything up until the rematch with the Flame Reaver, so turn away now if you don’t wanna get upset. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Starting off nice and calm with the ladies heading to the hot baths for some fun and sweet lord how did Aglaea become even prettier?? I’m in awe.

This whole splitting of the souls chatter reminds me of Harry Potter horcruxes. Becoming a demigod doesn’t seem like the most fantastical job in the world if it comes with such a big drawback, such as this or having your emotions slowly fade (as seen with Aglaea). I can only wonder what Mydei will have to deal with now.

The teasing just never ends between these two and it’s giving me life. Every interaction they have is such a joy to listen to.

Dang, no wonder our boy couldn’t overcome the trail. He was faced with the most tragic day of his life and all the trauma that came with it.

Okay thank heavens someone said it! Every time Mydei would mention how fear/fleeing/romance or any other word that shows weakness isn’t in the Kremnoan language I wanted to ask him like, okay, so what words are there then??

Mydei speaks so fondly of his fallen comrades. Being immortal really is cruel, and it hurts even more that we walk past all of his buddies again in a memory where they’re so excited to see him return.

At some point, Mydei’s teacher infiltrates the vortex by sorta kinda kidnapping Trinnon to do so and after going through this long spiel about the future of Mydei and the Kremnoans that I truthfully wasn’t paying that close attention to, Aglaea decides enough is enough and doesn’t hesitate to most likely execute him.. until Trinnon speaks up. I can’t lie, I genuinely find it a bit comical how quick this woman is to just end anyone who dares break any rules in this city.

So.. this image. First things first, I love that he uses such language at his father. Secondly, can I trade places with him? I’d love to open my eyes and see this marvelous man looking down on me. Step on me, king~

Poor guy has every one of his people wishing to return home to Kremnos someday with him as their king and yet he’s terrified on letting the miserable traditions continue if he decides to take the crown. It really is a difficult decision. Do you keep everyone safe and unhappy, or allow them to thrive in a world of danger?

Oohhh buddy, why must everyone on this planet be gorgeous?? Her mom is looking like a long lost cousin of Argenti and Himeko.

Not gonna lie but this whole scene with the dolls felt so Sparkle coded that it scared me. I honestly jumped the first time everything glitched out.

Well that’s a bright, red death flag if I ever saw one. Some trailers already gave me bad feelings regarding Tribbie, but this worsens it.

Pfftt, Aglaea has no chill and I’m here for it. Protect your people, queen!

I mean, sure, choosing how you pass on individually on your own terms may be better than losing every part of yourself all at once, but Aglaea has a point too, that seeing the many Tribios clones perish over and over again is a lot harder than having it happen just once and being done with. It’s not an easy situation to be in for either side.

It really is incredible how powerful these century gates are and it kinda reminds me of Finral’s spacial magic (Black Clover) the way it’s able to teleport others and redirect incoming attacks or enemies.

If I wasn’t already panicking then I sure am now! Look how upset and scared these cuties are! They know Trianne’s pushing herself too far for their sake and there’s truly nothing that they could do to stop what happens next, especially after seeing how much weaker she’s been getting recently.

Aaahhh, I knew it.. seeing this scene from the Song of Divine Silence trailer gave me such bad vibes from the moment I saw it! And after learning the whole meaning behind “see you tomorrow” just makes everything hurt twice as much!! Trianne was definitely my favorite out of the trio too.. this is such a bummer!

We interrupt the sudden heartbreak to bring you an adorably surprised Trailblazer.

I do love that Mydei trusts Phainon with his one and only weakness. I dunno how thrilled I’d be if such a literal backstabbing does take place in a future patch though.

Anaxa, the renowned scholar, using his gun as a shield against the Flame Reaver.. he’s doing his best. Forgive me but I do not remember much of this cutscene to know if he ever used the weapon the proper way. I was in a mix of tears and hype at this point.

Bro look at how relieved Phainon is when he noticed that Mydei has arrived to help them with the fight! That’s such a wonderful smile.

Sir, your confidence! It’s extraordinary! And I’m also very pleased with your sudden assistance!

Just two bros, ready to go knock some sense into a common enemy. What could possibly be better than that?

Okay, so I dunno about everyone else, but how did we feel about this fight? I personally had no trouble at all, even when we first fought him at the grove. The way they showcased him during the 3.1 livestream, I figured he was gonna be serious trouble, but I think the Nikador boss offered a tougher challenge. I didn’t even get the chance to see this dude’s big, fancy attack animation.

Look at him, protecting his man. What a good lad. We still dunno anything about what Phainon’s path or element would be, but for some reason he gives Preservation vibes? like I know he wields a giant sword and is quite capable of using for offense, but seeing him defend Mydei like this makes me think he can use it as a sort of counter I guess? Maybe give me a taunt too? Who knows. We definitely need more Preservation units though.

All hail the new king successfully securing another win for all.

I feel like a whole lot just happened in such a short amount of time. Next post should cover the rest of this patch.

[see-arcane]

In the context of the idea/fic, it makes sense that "Not so different between us" trope works really well with Alucard and Johnathan. Both forsake God for entirely different reasons, as well, it goes really well with Alucard's Nemesis being Johnathan instead of Anderson. It's a what? 90? 100? Year old grudge match that was waiting for a rematch? I could see Alucard's "Only a Man can kill a monster" thing to "Only Johnathan is the one that can kill me and no one else."

Does Johnathan also use Quincy's winchester rifle as a memento?

Jonathan Harker is peak 'we're not so different' even in the book. One of my favorite illustrations by @moonsun2010 shows it:

Post-October 3rd, Jonathan is converted wholly to a thing of Death, having wholly committed himself to whatever power or will that might protect his literally God-forsaken beloved--

(God, if You forsake her in full to this monster, You will be less than dead to me.)

--and see Dracula in Hell. It's only by Stoker's kindness that he doesn't have to cross any of the lines he's privately sworn to cross If Need Be. A nascent horror--but he took the Count's head as a hero, just as valiant Quincey Morris died while piercing the Count's heart. In the context of overlaying that on Hellsing's canon, with a Dracula-now-Alucard left to stew and develop less into a conqueror and more into an increasingly disgusted death seeker, I bet he would look back fondly on the missed opportunity of his good friend Jonathan Harker, stopped before he could end it all in the Transylvanian snow. Missing the flash of the kukri that Professor van Hel(l)sing stayed from his throat...

In the present of the Harker in Hellsing AU, I bet he has fun goading the freshly awakened Jonathan, knowing he's pushing the nemesis buttons as he weighs 'the Greater Good' against the century-old desire to finish what Abraham tricked him into stalling. Lots of nettling about them not being so different...with Jonathan unable to call him a liar.

As for Quincey Morris' Winchester, I expect it wasn't hanging around in this particular AU. Bigger and better and more supernatural firearms abound, courtesy of Alucard's guns.

However, if you are interested in something of a similar flavor--Mr. Morris' Winchester does reappear in a different work of mine, in the hands of a certain ominous psychopomp.

I'd take a gander at my book The Vampyres.

For no particular reason. ;)

Previews - eBook -Paperback

[magnificentposting-fabrizioart]

I'll be back soon.

We are at episode 16 now.

[panpanghost]

part 10 of this au (Turns out "corrupted king" is taken, shockers to no one, so it's out the list. Why is it taking so long?! I honestly suck at picking up names.)

_"What is that?" Macaque asked, watching the king press on a weird metal box. The king said it'll be fun and he can't wait to know what it is.

_"It's called a speaker. Music comes out of it or anything you want to listen to." The king explained,

_"Like the musicals!?" Macaque got excited.

I loved the musicals the king showed me on the TV, I had to groom the king afterwards as a payback, I didn't mind, it was a fair trade. He even said he'll make me my own stage once I'm bettter. Are we doing something similar?

_"Yes! Something like that, but I thought this time, instead of sitting around, why don't we dance?" The king was pressing on the screen called cellphone. He told Macaque he'll buy him one later.

_"I'm not sure I know of this era's dances. I don't think I can be a proper dance partner." I like dancing, but doing it in front of the king is a bit...

_"Stop overthinking it. We're just having fun. There's no one here, relax a bit, would you?"

Macaque loves dancing and singing. I'll make him listen to all types of songs so I can hear him sing around the house again, I can't wait to hear his voice.

_"Alright, but promise you won't make fun of me." It might be fun.

_"Actually that's my line. Between the two of us, you're the better dancer."

_"I don't think I can keep the title for long."

_"This is my chance for a rematch, I won't go easy on you."

_"Hehe, I'll try to keep up."

As the music started, Wukong opened his hand, and Macaque grabbed it. He spinned him, and their bodies started moving.

I can't believe how in sync we are. It's like we have been practising for centuries. When did I stop feeling repulsed by his touch? It all happened so fast I didn't even notice. This feels like a dream. I want to remember him, I want to know him, I want to love him. I need to remember us. How many memories like these have I lost? I'll find a way to get this crown off, no matter what. I'll be happy with him again.

They kept dancing and jumping, pulling and teasing. At some point the music got calmer and Macaque let the king hold him closer, he put his arms around his neck, his ears on the king's shoulder, listening to his heartbeat and just living. He didn't think about how weak he is, he didn't think about his magic or memories, he just lived in that moment. He's not alone anymore.

I want to protect these memories. I have to protect Wukong. I need to get this crown off.

This is it, this is all I ever wanted, don't ever leave me. I'll keep the crown on you, forever.

In the meantime, in Pigzy's noodles shop;

_"Nezha!" MK stood up from his seat to greet the immortal, "I'm so glad you came!"

Mei, Sandy, Mr. Tang and Pigzy, stepped closer to greet him as well.

_"Of course. We owe you a great debt. I'm happy to help." Nezha responded.

He was actually really surprised when MK suddenly contacted him and asked for his help, but he is glad to lend a hand nonetheless, especially if what's he found out is true.

_"Awwww, don't mention it." MK felt shy, "Seriously though, don't mention it." that sentence was not as shy as the other, no it was very serious.

_"Alright. Well then. Considering what you asked me to look for, there's someone I'd like you to meet-"

As soon as a figure entered the shop,

_"*GASP!! GE-GE-GE-GE-GE-GE-GE-GE-GE-GE GENERAL ERLANG SHEN!!!! OOOOOOOO-" Mr. Tang jumped up, super excited,

_"SHUT UP!" Pigzy literally tied him up and put a tape on his mouth. He knows Tang won't shut up for the next three hours and they don't have that kind of time, or patience. Not in this situation.

_"Hehe, Guess I'm still famous in the mortal realm." The general smiled kindly, "I thought these clothes would help me fit in more, guess that didn't work." he continued putting his hands in the blue hoodie he was wearing, but when everyone was still staring at him without saying anything, he spoke again: "I apologise for not formally informing you of my visit, but this matter is urgent so I hope you'd forgive me."

Mr. Tang let out a muffled scream, HE'S SO COOL!!!! Is what he wanted to say,

_"No worries champ, we're the ones grateful for your help." Pigzy broke the silence as everyone else was looking at the guest in awe.

_"Thank you Mr. Pigzy."

_"Just Pigzy, Mr. Pigzy was my father. Come on, take a seat." Pigzy has no idea who that is. But so far he seems nice.

_"If you'll excuse me." The guest walked between the gang as they were shooting arrows of admiration at him with their eyes, then a cute puppy walked behind him and everyone was about to explode,

_"AWWWWWWWW" Everyone said in unison, eyes twinkling,

The general took a seat with his puppy in his lap, and thankfully, Nezha started the conversation,

_"Ehem, I'll get straight to the point, we think Sun Wukong has been corrupted by the "corrupted king's crown'"

_"What?" MK took his eyes off the puppy as Mei continued taking pictures of it. "That's impossible. Macaque's the one wearing it. Also, Monkey King said it wasn't the same crown, or it's badly translated or something." MK defended,

_"That's why we think he's corrupted." The general spoke,

_"What do you mean?"

_"After your request for information about the crown, the prince came to me since I was in charge of protecting the great library."

_"Why would a library need protection?" Mei asked. Seriously, it's a library.

_"It's not any library, it contains everything that has ever been written, all the discoveries, all the spells, all the medicines, some legends say it even has 'the book of death, life and future', but no one has ever seen it."

_"Wow." Mei and MK let out,

_"Wow indeed. When the prince asked me about the crown I told him to ask Sun Wukong."

_"But the Monkey king doesn't know anything about it." MK knows that,

_"Here's where we suspected something was off. The great sage came to me a few hours before the prince. He told me of great evil that's corrupting the Six-eared Macaque's mind, and he needed my help to stop it. Knowing the Six-eared Macaque I was afraid we might be too late to stop him if we went on with the usual routine investigation, so I trusted Sun Wukong's word. I entered the library with him and we found the original scroll that had everything about the crown written in it, I managed to read some of it, that's how I knew what the prince was looking for."

_"Then that's good! Monkey king can save Macaque!" MK said excitedly,

_"We don't think so." Nezha looked worried,

_"What do you mean?"

_"Time passes differently between the realms, the few hours that passed in the celestial realm meant days in the mortal realm." Erlang explained,

_"Sun Wukong had the scroll days before we even knew about it." Nezha finally told MK,

_"Wait- What? Are you saying Monkey King is trying to kill Macaque?" MK is in disbelief,

_"No. I mean yes. I just don't think he knows it." Erlang tried to calm the kid,

_"But- why?"

_"It's the crown, since it couldn't corrupt the Six-eared Macaque, it focused its power on finding a guard to protect the king." Erlang added,

_"The king has guards..." MK remembered,

_"What?"

_"It's what Macaque told me before he passed out, The king has guards. He was referring to Monkey King! That's why he didn't let me go get him! That's why Monkey King yelled at me! I was getting too close to the truth!"

_"He did what!?" Pisgzy wanted to kill that immortal monkey, only he is allowed to yell at his son.

_"It's no shock the Six-eared Macaque knows of the crown. It might have changed its forme but it's still the same." Erlang continued,

_"How would Macaque know about it?" Mei asked,

_"Because he's the one who stopped it the last time it was released."

_"What?" MK and Mei don't think they heard him correctly,

_"It was a long time ago. A greedy human king made a deal with a blood demon. He asked him for more power and money, no matter the price. The demon asked for the souls of his subjects. A normal person wouldn't agree to such a massacre, but the king was blinded by greed. So he ordered his most loyal knights to kill the people of the kingdom, and paid mercenaries to finish the rest, claiming his subjects had been infected by a deadly disease. The knights, trusting their king, took many innocent lives, and by the time they discovered the truth, it was too late. As the demon received the last innocent soul, he used black magic to make the crown and gave it to the king. The six Knights that survived, driven by guilt, betrayed their king and tried to kill him. But the crown was too powerful, it gave power to the king and he cursed the knights, they became the king's guards, their only purpose is to protect the king and the crown." Erlang told what he read,

_"That's... awful..." MK can't believe someone so evil could exist, to kill an entire kingdom...

_"Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. The crown was made to make the dream of whoever wears it come true, no matter the price. So the king sent his guards across the land to take over the world and kill who stood in his way. The guards did as ordered, and with that, the crown grew stronger. It became so strong that an entire continent was affected by its magic. Lands were burned, homes destroyed, families corrupted; a mother would kill her own child for the smallest desires. It was a horror like no one had ever seen." Erlang continued,

_"So how did you stop it?" MK needs to know, he must stop the crown before it's too late,

_"We didn't. We couldn't. Even when the king set his mind on the celestial realm, we were powerless against it. The crown would see your deepest desire even if it was a small thought and turn you into a monster chasing it until it took all your magic and soul. It was impossible to get close enough without losing your mind."

_"So is that what's happening to Monkey King? The crown is making him lose his mind?" MK asked anxiously, this is bad, this is really bad.

_"Not exactly, the crown makes you chase your desire and gives you power when someone stands in your way. So I'm not sure what's happening with The great sage. It looks like he's just protecting the crown."

_"Well it doesn't matter as long as we can stop it. How did Macaque do it?" Mei said optimistically, if Macaque did it, then so can they.

_"I don't know." Erlang admitted, "All I know is that Guan Yin told us to seek his help. We managed to find him, and he agreed to help in exchange for one wish he'll ask one day. Somehow, he wasn't affected by the crown. He fought the guards, killed the king, and hid the crown since it couldn't be destroyed. We did ask him where he hid it, but he said it's safer that no one ever knows. So we also don't know who found it or how they even managed to."

_"He killed the king..." MK's face dropped,

_"It's the only way. To stop the person wearing it. And I believe, if we don't manage to find the scroll that Sun Wukong took, it'll be our only option. I'm sorry, but we can't risk unleashing that terror into the world."

_"Wait. W-we don't have to. I just need to talk to Monkey King and all is well. I'm sure he just forgot to tell us. He's probably working on freeing Macaque right now." MK wished he could believe his own words, something is definitely wrong.

Erlnag gave a worried look to the prince. The crown is ancient, even older than the great sage himself. This might be too much for a kid to handle,

_"Alright Monkey kid, go to Wukong and inform us of the situation we're dealing with. We'll wait for your return." Erlang is not cruel, he also wants to give this a chance, he wants to at least try. The kid looked a bit relieved,

"But. If you fail, we will have to intervene." Erlang doesn't know how to stop the crown, but he won't hesitate to kill The Six-eared Macaque if he has to.

_"Don't worry. I won't fail!" MK might've looked confident on the outside, but inside, his world was crumbling. "Dadzy can you make a cake?" He turned to ask his dad,

_"Sure, but I don't think this is the right time for cakes." Pigzy answered, a bit suspicious.

_"Oh, it's not for us. I'll give it to the Monkey King." MK gave him the 'I have a plan look'.

_"*sigh* Alright." Pigzy finally crumbled under MK's looks. "But you can't go there on your own."

_"I don't think I can promise that." MK smiled nervously, avoiding eye contact,

_"What? Why?"

_"Last time I was there, I went through what felt like a hundred barriers, I got exhausted just going through them, I don't think anyone else can go in. At least not without putting a fight and Monkey King showing up prepared for one." MK's tone was serious, he doesn't even know if he can step into the mountain anymore.

_"Then you're not going." Pigzy won't send MK to a complete immortal lunatic,

_"Mis- Pigzy, if I may. If Monkey kid doesn't find the scroll before the curse is completed, none of us will survive. I hate to say it. But we do need him to get it as fast as possible." Erlang stepped in,

_"And what about that celestial army of yours, huh?! Can't you stop it?!" Why is it always MK?

_"I'm afraid not. We have tried before, the crown will corrupt our soldiers' minds, and it'll be chaos. Also, time passes differently in the celestial realm, it'll take years before we agree on sending an army, it'll be too late by then. Not to mention, Sun Wukong is already strong enough to fight us without the crown on his side, I can't imagine what will happen once he completely becomes under its control."

_"...." Pigzy hates this, if this guy isn't going to help then he shouldn't have shown up in the first place, but... if that crown is that scary, if they don't find the scroll, MK might not survive... no one will... "Fine. But if you feel there's something wrong, you come back immediately, am I clear?"

_"Yes dadzy!" MK jumped smiling and went with his dad to help prepare the cake,

_"Should I talk to my father about the fillet?" Nezha whispered to the general,

_"It won't be of much help. The pain was what kept Sun Wukong down. The crown can easily take that pain away. We have to wait for the kid and prepare for the worse."

_"Oh, how rude of us. Mr. general, would you like some tea?" Sandy asked,

_"I would love that, thank you very much. I hope I won't be a bother to you, I'm afraid I have to wait here for the Monkey kid to return. I can't go back to the celestial realm right now."

_"Not at all, we're happy to have you with us."

In the background, Mr. Tang was struggling to talk to the General, tossing and turning and making muffled sounds as he failed to speak.

_"Uuhhhh.... Is he ok?" Erlang asked, smiling nervously,

_"Believe me, you don't want to unleash THAT terror into your world." Pigzy pointed at a very angry Mr. Tang who was trying to get to The general, "No! Bad Tang! Bad! Stay back!" Pigzy sprayed some water on him.

Mr. Tang made a 'Hisssssss' then got back to his corner like a catapillar. Poor Mr. Tang.

*Ding!*

MK got his phone out of his pocket to see who sent him a message.

It's Redson.

(You can know I'm getting into it by how much the chapters are getting longer and longer each time. Also next part is gonna take some time to come out because life.

Hope you enjoyed the au so far!)

edit: part 11

[trashogram]

If we're sharing Satan pairing ideas, I've got one of my own: Satan X Dragonslayer!S/O (I... have thought a lot about this if it isn't obvious.)

S/O is loosely based on Piers Shonks.

Like Piers, the Dragonslayer slays a dragon and pisses off the Devil...

Except the dragon and the Devil are one and the same.

Satan is torn between being pissed that a mortal defeated him and grudging respect.

The Dragonslayer goes to Hell when they die (because they were a crusader or something, idk) and proceeds to fight everything in sight. (Partly because they're in denial about going to Hell instead of Heaven... but mostly because what self-righteous holy warrior wouldn't?)

Satan hears and is like "Sweet! Rematch time!"

He loses again.

Now he's angry. (And a little turned on...)

Satan returns to fight the Dragonslayer again... and again... and again.

One day Lucifer intervenes because those two idiots have wrecked half the Pride Ring and now Lilith is mad so he tells them to take it somewhere else.

Satan (reluctantly) arranges to have the Dragonslayer brought to a remote corner of Wrath where they can fight uninterrupted as much as they want.

At some point it stops being about winning and starts being about just the challenge of battle itself. Their rivalry grows into mutual admiration and eventually something more.

Skip forward like a century or two and now they're an item.

Nobody knows how it happened (not even Satan and the Dragonslayer, honestly.)

Weirdly enough, more often than not Satan is the more personable of the two. (The Dragonslayer still kind of wants to fight everything due to the whole "righteous holy warrior" thing.)

The Dragonslayer is still a little bit in denial about the whole "got sent to Hell because they were a bad person" thing (Yes, even after getting in bed with the literal Devil!) and Satan, being Satan, just finds the whole thing adorable.

The Dragonslayer does enjoy looking after demon horses, and Satan builds them a ranch so they can keep themselves busy (i.e. not going on murderous rampages through the local demon population) when he's not around.

An idiot with more ambition than sense once tried to get at Satan through the Dragonslayer... said idiot was promptly turned into feed for the demon horses.

The Dragonslayer is rarely seen in public, and almost never without Satan by their side. This is less for their protection and more everyone else's.

Spooky stories slowly spread through Hell's populace about Satan's crazy S/O, imp parents start using them as a boogeyman to scare their children into behaving, that sort of thing. (Satan may or may not have encouraged said stories.)

Sometimes, if Satan finds a criminal particularly despicable, he'll have the Dragonslayer be the one to execute them. (It makes the Dragonslayer happy.)

The Dragonslayer gets quite a few unofficial monikers over the years, like "The Accuser's Hound," "The Executioner," and "Satan's Sword" among others. (Satan thinks the monikers are either badass or hilarious.)

Satan and the Dragonslayer can be surprisingly wholesome behind closed doors.

That said, they still beat the shit out of each other periodically (for fun! They always cuddle afterwards! ❤ ...It's also how they decide who tops that night.)

The Dragonslayer is still banned from the Pride Ring by order of Lilith due to wanton sinner slaughter and (more importantly) destruction of property.

The Dragonslayer is actually going to anger management therapy with Satan to be a supportive S/O. (What? No! They don't need it too! Don't be absurd! They totally need it.)

Everyone else just wants to know how the Hell these idiots are still together after all this time.

Awww 🥹 this is beautiful!