#why are you fondly looking at your leader whos deep in thought

[saewokhrisz]

planning

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

JON SNOW DAY 12: HOUSE TARGARYEN 🐉🏰

For Targaryen day on Jon’s fortnight I wanted to examine the parallels of the character with his great ancestor, Good Queen Alysanne.

In terms of appearance neither favors the traditional Targaryen beauty of the silver hair and purple eyes. Alysanne takes after her grandmother’s family looks and Jon’s after his mother’s Stark look:

Her eyes were blue rather than purple, her hair a mass of honey-colored curls.  

Fire & Blood, The year of the three brides

The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away.  

AGOT, TYRION II

Both are described as very clever:

No man ever questioned her wits.

Fire & Blood, The year of the three brides  

Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and for a brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep. Finally he said, "Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem."  

AGOT, JON V

Alysanne and Jon are both charming and natural leaders. Alysanne was beloved by her subjects both the noble ones and the lowborn. Similarly, Jon is able to win over not only of noble lords/kings such as: Maester Aemon, Jeor Mormont, Stannis Baratheon but also lowborn people like his black brothers who elect him Lord Commander and the free folk who at the end of ADWD are following him as if he were their king.

The reason behind the large following of those two is that both care about other people and genuinelly want to improve the conditions of their subjects.

Beloved by the common people of Westeros, she loved them in return, and was renowned for her charities.  

So spake Martin

[...]Your heart is noble, Jon, but learn a lesson here. We cannot set the world to rights. That is not our purpose. The Night's Watch has other wars to fight."  

ACOK, JON III

Unlike many other characters who agree with westerosi sexist views on women, both Alysanne and Jon don’t support these views. What is more, both try to empower them. Alysanne not only convinced her husband to forbide the right of First Night, but also supported her granddaughter Rhaenys’ claim over her grandson Viserys’. Jon gave his little sister a weapon because he thought that she deserved to be able to protect herself as much as any man.

Alysanne saw no reason why a man should be favored over a woman...  

AWOIAF, JAEHAERYS I

The women are the strong ones.  

ADWD, JON III

Any comparison between Good Queen Alysanne and Jon Snow would be incomplete without mentioning the Wall and how both play a crucial role in helping the Night’s Watch. Alysanne donated her own jewels, including her crown, in order for Deep Lake to be built. Despite the fact that the castle was eventually abandoned, the Night’s Watch still fondly  remembers the Queen for her generosity. When Jon Snow becomes Lord Commander he also uses his wit to help the Night’s Watch. He quickly realized that the orderw was undermanned and underfunded, and made alliances with Stannis and the Iron Bank to remedy those facts. He also reopens some of the Night’s Watch abandoned castles. One of them is the one his ancestor Alysanne built, Deep Lake.

[swampclanclangen]

Month 0 - Newleaf

Strikestar looks down into the grotto she called home, eyes scanning the few cats milling about the clearing. The adrenaline she had gained from her nine lives was starting to drain, leaving her with a heavy ache in her body.

“How does it feel?” Shinepelt asks, coming up beside his leader.

“Unreal. Like I don’t deserve this.” Strikestar replies. She sits down, tail curling around her paws. She tries to hold her head up, but can’t help the slight dip.

“We wouldn’t have chosen you to be our leader if we didn’t think you deserved it.” Shinepelt follows her movements and sits down, though keeps his tail stretched out. “I mean, you heard the speech Yarrowtuft gave on why you should be leader.”

“Yea, you're right. Thanks Shinepelt.” Strikestar smiles at the healer.

“Of course. I’m your medicine cat, it’s my job to advise you. And your deputy, once you choose them.”

“Speaking of deputy, I think Yarrowtuft will make a good one.”

“Not Lowback? I heard that his old leader was thinking of appointing him if anything happened to their deputy.” Shinepelt says, brow raised to his leader.

“Lowback is a good warrior, there’s no doubt about that, but I want someone who knows how to talk their way out of a fight. We’re too small of a clan right now to risk losing anyone.” Strikestar replies.

“I guess you're right.” Shinepelt tilts his head with a hum. “You know, the whole reason the other clans decided to make a new one was because of overcrowding, but they only gave up seven cats altogether.”

“It is odd. I’m not going to question it, though. We have a new clan, cats to look after. That’s more important than the thought process of a few cats.” Strikestar stands and stretches out, mouth opening in a wide yawn.

“Tired?” Shinepelt jokes, whiskers twitching.

“More than you know.” Strikestar replies. With one more glance at the cats in the clearing, she hops down into the grotto and pads down the path to the entrance. She pushes through the bushes hiding the entrance and takes a deep breath, welcoming the scent of her new clanmates.

“Strikehawk’s back!” A big gray apprentice exclaims, eyes shining with excitement. Beside him, a smaller brown apprentice jerks awake, giving the gray cat an annoyed glare. “Oops! Sorry, Dawnpaw.”

The excited call attracted the attention of the warriors scattered throughout the camp and they quickly made their way over, welcoming back the leader with purrs.

“It’s not Strikehawk anymore. Welcome home Strikestar!” Shinepelt meows, sliding out of the bushes and stopping next to his leader.

“They accepted you!” Fennelpelt says, eyes shining.

“I told you they would. Strikestar’s the perfect fit for leader.” Yarrowtuft says.

The gray apprentice from before squeezes between the two warriors, fur fluffed up, making himself look even bigger.

“Does this mean me and Dawnpaw can get our warrior names now?” He asks, paws quickly tapping the ground.

Strikestar chuckles and places her paw over one of the apprentice’s, stopping his fidgeting. “Not yet, Palepaw, but soon.”

“But Shinepelt already got his name and he’s only three moons older than us.” Palepaw pouts.

“He’s a medicine cat, it’s different.” Fennelpelt says, voice patient, but he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes.

“Oh.” Palepaw deflates a second but quickly puffs back up. “But we get to start training again soon, right?”

“Yes, just as soon as I can assign you two mentors.” Strikestar replies.

“Awesome! Did you hear that Dawnpaw? We can train again soon!” Palepaw meows, turning and bounding back to the smaller apprentice, who merely nodded.

“Apprentices.” Lowback says, shaking his head fondly. “At least we know he’ll always keep us on our toes.”

“Maybe I should give him to you, Lowback. Might mellow him out.” Strikestar teases, smiling.

“Please don’t. I’ll never be able to keep up with him.”

“I’m only kidding. He’s yours Fennelpelt.” Strikestar turns her attention to the black warrior, watching as his eyes widen.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I’ve seen how much you enjoy his energy. I think it’ll serve you both well.”

“I’m honored, Strikestar. Thank you.” Fennelpelt dips his head.

“Who are you thinking of appointing for Dawnpaw?” Yarrowtuft asks.

Strikestar looks over to the duo of apprentices. Palepaw was happily talking animatedly with his paws, tail lashing behind him. Dawnpaw merely listened contently, paws tucked underneath him.

“I think I’ll take him as my own apprentice. I know the least about him and I want to change that. Training him might help.” Strikestar says.

“Maybe that’ll help him come out of his shell.” Lowback says.

“Interesting how we managed to get two apprentices that are complete opposites of each other.” Yarrowtuft adds.

“Palepaw probably volunteered and drug Dawnpaw along with him.” Lowback jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past them. Now come on. I want to sleep, but I need to make a couple announcements first.” Strikestar walks around the warriors and bounds towards the tree that made up her den. She leaps onto the boulder ensnared in its roots and settles down, tail curling loosely.

“All cats old enough to navigate the swamp, come join me under the mangrove tree!” Strikestar calls out.

The cats, already close by, scoot a few tail lengths closer, the apprentices a bit further away, coming to join them.

“Today is an exciting day for all of us. We’ve been an established clan for a little under four sunrises and I know we’ll continue to be one for generations to come. I’m proud of all of you for the teamwork we’ve managed to accomplish in these few days.” Strikestar looks down on her cats, smiling at the way one or two of them puffed out their chests.

“However, to really be a clan, we need a deputy. I thought about this a lot while traveling to the Mooncave and have come to a decision. Yarrowtuft.” The she-cat jumps in surprise, eyes widening. “Will you do me the honor of being my deputy?”

Yarrowtuft sucks in a sharp breath, paws frozen to the ground. A muzzle nudges her shoulder, making her look down. Shinepelt smiles up at her, eyes shining, and motions for her to stand. Yarrowtuft turns her attention back to Strikestar who was staring down at her expectantly. Finally, she pushes herself to her feet and bows her head.

“I will, Strikestar.”

“Yarrowtuft! Yarrowtuft!” Palepaw is the first to start the chant, the rest of the cats following suit.

“Yarrowtuft! Yarrowtuft! Yarrowtuft!”

Yarrowtuft raises her head and makes her way to the foot of the boulder, sitting down as the chanting dies away.

“Onto the next matter. We have a couple apprentices who need mentors. Palepaw, will you please step forward.”

Palepaw walks through the crowd, chest puffed up. He stops, face serious, but the twitch of his tail gives away his true feelings.

“Fennelpelt! You will mentor Palepaw. Pass down your insight to him and make him into a great warrior.”

Fennelpelt pads forward, turning to Palepaw when he gets close. He didn’t have to bend down much, considering the apprentice was almost the same size as him. Fennelpelt presses his nose to Palepaw’s for a heartbeat before pulling back and leading the apprentice back into the crowd.

“Dawnpaw, please step forward.” Strikestar calls.

Dawnpaw, already at the front of the crowd, steps forward. He tilts his head back to look up at Strikestar, heart thrumming in anticipation.

Strikestar stands and jumps down from the boulder, much to the apprentice’s surprise. “I will be your mentor.”

Dawnpaw can’t help his gasp and quickly clamps his jaws shut. Strikestar reaches out with her nose, and, after a moment of hesitation, Dawnpaw meets her. He quickly pulls away, looking up at the leader in awe.

“You’ll make a great warrior one day.” Strikestar murmurs. She turns back to the clan, head held high.

“We’ll all make great warriors one day. Swampclan’s legacy will live long after we’re all gone. We’ll show we’re a clan to be reckoned with!”

It’s quiet for a moment before a chant starts, low at first and slowly getting louder.

“Swampclan! Swampclan! Swampclan!”

“You are all dismissed! We will start patrols and training tomorrow. For now, everyone deserves to rest.” Strikestar nods to her warriors before turning and going into her den. She collapses into her nest, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed her.

******

Birdsong is the first thing Strikestar hears when she awakes. That and the sound of a cat calling her name.

“Strikestar! Are you awake?”

“Yea! Yea, I’m up. Just give me a second.” Strikestar replies with a yawn. She pushes herself up, stretching out as she does. Strikestar pads out of her den and is quickly met by Yarrowtuft.

“Good morning.” The smaller she-cat greets.

“Mornin’. What did you need?” Strikestar replies.

“I was wondering if I could get your input on patrols today.” Yarrowtuft says. She sits down and lifts a paw, licking it, before dragging it across her face.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that maybe Lowback could-”

“Wait! Sorry to interrupt, Yarrowtuft,” Shinepelt’s voice cuts off the deputy as he trots up to the warriors, “but I was hoping Lowback could come with me while I look for some herbs. I’m not familiar with the territory and would feel safer if he came with me.”

“Of course! I can just lead the hunting patrol myself.” Yarrowtuft replies.

“Who are you taking with you?” Shinepelt asks.

“I want to take Fennelpelt and Palepaw with me. With Fennelpelt being younger and this being his first apprentice, I want to make sure he’s not too overwhelmed.” Yarrowtuft says, bending her neck to lick some chest fluff.

“That’s a good idea.” Strikestar nods. “I would like to take Dawnpaw out myself for some training today.”

“Then it looks like everything’s settled then.” Yarrowtuft stands, tail tip flicking behind her. “I hope everyday’s patrol scheduling is this easy. I’ll see you two later.”

Strikestar meows a goodbye and turns to Shinepelt. “What kind of herbs will you be looking for?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I don’t know what’s around here so I’m really just looking for familiar herbs that were back in Streamclan territory.” Shinepelt replies. A wistful look enters his eyes. “Do you miss the streams?”

“Every time we come across any murky bog water. I don’t think the water here will ever be as clear as in Streamclan.” Strikestar says. She rests her tail on Shinepelt’s shoulder.

“Well,” Shinepelt turns away, “I better get going. Maybe Lowback will recognize some herbs Patchouliclan used.” He says a quick goodbye and pads off, scanning the clearing for the warrior’s familiar white and silver pelt. He spots him talking to Fennelpelt and makes his way over.

“Lowback, could I ask you a favor?” Shinepelt mews as he stops next to the warrior.

“What do you need?” Lowback asks, voice lower than usual from the grogginess of sleep.

“Would you mind coming with me to find some herbs? I’d just feel better with a warrior tagging along.” Shinepelt says.

“Sure, but I don’t think I’ll be of much help identifying anything. I wasn’t in the medicine den much.” Lowback says, giving the small tom an apologetic look.

“That’s ok. I’m mostly getting a feel of the territory.”

“You should try to look for comfrey. There was a lot of it back in Chestnutclan’s forest. It has these big leaves with pretty purple flowers.” Fennelpelt says. “It can be used for a lot of things.”

“How do you know all that?” Lowback asks, turning to the younger tom.

“My older sister is a medicine cat. I used to hang out with her sometimes and she told me about the herbs they use.” Fennelpelt smiles fondly, but his tail droops behind him.

Lowback reaches out to press his nose to Fennelpelt’s shoulder but stops and pulls away. He turns back to Shinepelt.

“We should head out now. So we can be back before dark.” He meows. Without waiting for a response he pads forward, heading for the camp entrance. Quick pawsteps follow after him. Lowback pushes through the bushes, letting out a little grumble as his pelt gets snagged. Once out, he trots up the path and hops up the short distance to the top of the grotto. Wind tugs at his fur, making a chill run down his spine.

“Where should we start?” Lowback asks, looking over his shoulder.

Shinepelt, still making his way up the path, pauses, brow furrowing as he thinks. After a heartbeat, he starts again and hops out of the grotto.

“I’m most familiar with herbs near water. We could check around the bogs first and make our way back.” Shinepelt proposes, looking at Lowback for his thoughts.

“You’re the healer. I trust you know what you're doing.” Lowback sets off again but makes sure to set a pace he knows the medicine cat can keep up with. His eyes scan the forest around them, feeling on edge. Coming from the open fields of Patchouliclan, a forest was way out of his comfort zone.

Lowback jumps over a fallen log, pausing for Shinepelt, and continues on. He found himself wondering once again why he had been chosen to leave the clan. He was a good warrior, even graduating earlier than his peers. He could have been deputy for Starclan’s sake! Lowback swallows back a low growl, not wanting to startle Shinepelt. Unfortunately, it seemed the medicine cat could see the tenseness in his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Shinepelt quickened his pace to walk alongside Lowback. He shoots the warrior a worried look.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t call me a liar.”

“I will when you stop lying to me.”

“It’s nothing, Shinepelt. You don’t have to worry about me.” Lowback pulls ahead of the medicine cat.

Shinepelt frowns, brow furrowing. He jumps forward, blocking Lowback’s path, and places his paw on the warrior’s chest, pushing him back into a sitting position.

“It’s my job to worry about you. Now.” Shinepelt sits down, looking at Lowback with a stern expression. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Lowback sighs, his head dropping to look at the ground. “I’m worried about what kind of legacy I’ll leave behind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what kind of warrior is chosen to leave their clan?”

“One that they knew was strong enough to withstand the hardships of making a new one.”

“Huh?” Lowback lifts his head, giving Shinepelt a bewildered look.

“Do you really think the other clans would send cats they didn’t think could handle themselves into unfamiliar territory? They wanted to downsize their clans, not kill cats.” Shinepelt says.

“But why me?”

“I don’t know, but I do know one thing.”

“What is it?” Lowback leans forward, anticipation etched across his face.

“I know that Swampclan will honor you as one of the founding members and one of the best warriors in clan history.” Shinpelt stands, shaking out his pelt. He turns around, looking over his shoulder. “I mean, being considered for deputy at only fourteen moons old? Seriously? I don’t think the clans will ever forget you, even long after you're gone.”

Lowback watches Shinepelt’s retreating back, still trying to process what had been told to him. A nice warmth bloomed in his chest, pushing out the earlier anxiety he was feeling. A smile overtakes his features.

“You coming?” Shinepelt called ahead, waiting next to one of the mangroves that seemed to take over the swamp part of their territory.

“Yea!” Lowback hops up and bounds to the medicine cat. “Thanks, Shinepelt.”

“No problem. Now let’s go! I see some poppies we can get seeds from ahead.”

******

Palepaw bounds ahead of the patrol, eyes shining in excitement as he takes in all the new scenery. Dawnpaw and him hadn’t been allowed far out of the camp since they’d arrived. Safety issues or whatever. So Palepaw was making sure to take in everything he could.

“Stay close please!” Yarrowtuft’s call made him skid to a stop.

Looking back, Palepaw finally realizes the gap he had made between them. He trots back over to the warriors, giving the deputy a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Yarrowtuft.”

“You’re ok. Just try to be careful. We don’t know what’s out here yet.” Yarrowtuft says, touching the apprentice’s shoulder with her tail as she passes by.

“Do you think there’s similar prey here to Chestnutclan’s territory?” Palepaw asks Fennelpelt, falling into step with his mentor.

“Probably. We have the same forest as them, but we also have an added swampland. I’m not sure what we’ll find there.” Fennelpelt replies.

“I think there will be frogs and lizards. Do you think Strikestar and Shinepelt will like them?”

“They didn’t eat lizards in Streamclan. I don’t know about frogs though.”

“You should try lizard. We found them in the fields sometimes in Patchouliclan.” Yarrowtuft meows, slowly slightly to be closer.

“Aren’t they all scaly though?” Palepaw asks, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“The outside maybe, but not the inside. They made a nice snack.”

“Do you think they’ll be the-”

A deep howl cuts off Fennelpelt. The cats bristle, claws quickly becoming unsheathed.

“What was that?” Palepaw hisses, frantically looking around. He steps closer to Fennelpelt, trying to gain some comfort from his mentor.

“I don’t know.” Fennelpelt meows, curling his tail around the back of Palepaw.

“We should check it out. Might be a danger to the clan.” Yarrowtuft beckons the rest of the patrol and heads in the direction of the howl.

“Stay close.” Fennelpelt murmurs before ushering Palepaw forward.

The patrol creeps through the undergrowth, ears pricked and eyes watching for any sign of danger. A low ripping sound starts up and gradually gets louder. Finally, Yarrowtuft lifts her tail to signal the patrol to stop. She creeps forward, spotting a brown body moving around a few tail-lengths away. The body starts to take shape, revealing a coyote. Yarrowtuft’s breath hitches. As quickly, but quietly, as she can, she backs away and returns to her patrol.

“Come on.” She meows, heading back in the direction of camp.

“What was it?” Fennelpelt asks, matching her pace. Palepaw followed just behind.

“A coyote. We have to tell Strikestar about it.” Yarrowtuft replies.

“A coyote? Dawnpaw’s gonna be so pumped when I tell him!” Palepaw exclaims. He bounds forward to walk ahead of the patrol.

“Do you think that’s bad?” Fennelpelt asks.

“I don’t know. There was only one, but usually when there’s one, there’s more close behind.”

“Did you have a lot of coyotes in Patchouliclan? I only ever saw them outside the territory on border patrols.”

“They came more often during leafbare when prey was scarce. Wasn’t uncommon to see them in newleaf though.”

“Hopefully they’re no problem for us.” Fennelpelt says, glancing at Yarrowtuft before focusing his attention back on Palepaw.

“Here’s to hoping.”

Authors Note

First moon up guys! I'm hoping to post at the beginning of each week and with around four years worth of content in the game already done, I don't think that'll be too hard of a challenge. My friend beta read this, but neither of us are professionals so expect some mistakes.

I only did a few illustrations this time, but I want to know if y'all might want more in a chapter in the future, and, again, apologies for the less than ideal image quality.

If y'all have any qiestions, don't be afraid to ask! Cya!

[godstrain]

it's startling, because of all the things wesker expected chris to do, it certainly wasn't this. this tender thing / he shivers slightly when chris brushes his thumb over the scars- scars to prove everything he'd done wrong (and everything he had found some twisted comfort in / everything that had played out wrong, because he didn't calculate for that result. he hadn't calculated for this), scars to prove that he was not a god, even if he wanted to be- maybe in another lifetime he had been, but not this one. sometimes, he still wanted to be / he's supposed to know better than to want that. sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't.

as usual, maybe this is the one outcome he should've planned for the most. he was different than he'd been in the past, of course, but so was chris. at the very least, they were different enough that they weren't trying to tear each other to shreds / holding onto anger to hide the grief of all that had happened. and that, too, felt like another life- another person. maybe it was.

albert wesker had prided himself on remaining calm and collected no matter what situation he came across. it was that sort of behavior that had made him a good leader- a good captain (because he wanted to believe that his position wasn't just some award from umbrella- he wanted to believe in his own merit). and he was a good captain in his own ways. his team admired him, looked to him for guidance, and of course it wasn't perfect- in hindsight, he understood that no person was perfect.

which was why he had to become a god. so he could have that perfection- that was his goal / spencer's goal. he was to be some golden, flawless thing / some masterpiece above all others- untainted and unreachable, the very thing humans would aspire to be. yes, that was spencer's goal. but it took all of that- all of the pain and madness and death for wesker to realize it. this was not what he wanted.

i hate that i never know what to make of you, speaks chris, and there is no malice in the statement. simply fact, perhaps a hint of frustration. wesker had always thought to present himself as what he was (what spencer had deluded himself into thinking he was! some immortal god / savior of humanity), and he'd learned that few people could understand. few people could accept it- and he deluded himself into thinking that he didn't care what other people thought. because humans had failed, hadn't they? war and famine and sorrow painted the canvas of the planet, and he had to begin anew- humans were a disease upon the planet and he had created a cure- or so he'd presented it as such.

chris hadn't seen it like that at all. chris had seen it as monstrous and twisted. chris had looked at him like he was just another infected dog that needed to be put out of its misery- and in a way, he was. now, chris was telling wesker that he never knew what to make of him. another unexpected (rather obvious) turn of events. one that makes him laugh fondly, gently shake his head / a rather normal act, as if he ever had any semblance of normalcy. ❝ i had always assumed you were rather confident in your assessment of me, ❞ soft, there's no bite to his words- he's too tired to bite back (or maybe he's afraid, because this is something fragile and sacred and if he breaks it, it will never happen again. it shouldn't be happening in the first place).

silence lingers for a moment after, but it isn't nearly as awkward or uncomfortable as he would've anticipated. he feels lighter / a burden lifted even if only for a moment (he knows it will come crashing down upon him in time / he will face the consequences of his actions time and time again, if not by the betrayal of his own body, then by the ruination others would bring in his stead. because he knows deep down that he did become some sort of idol- just not in the ways he wanted / not for the right people.)

do they hurt at all?

oh, there he was. that tender-hearted and loyal young man from the past. the chris redfield who always found trouble, who always worked hard. the chris redfield who found a way to worm his way into the shreds of wesker's heart. the one whose smile truly lit up the room / an aptly named star- when he asked questions like that, the caring ones, it was easy to see that person. even with how much chris had changed, his heart would always remain the same. for that, wesker counted his blessings (few as they were, this was certainly one).

do they hurt-

❝ ... not nearly as often as before. ❞

before, when he had dragged his body from the lava, numb, but only until he began to heal. it was the nerves that were the worst. it made him remember what it was like when he was first infected- the fire in his veins, the way his body felt wrong / vision blurred, no one to take his hand and tell him that he would make it through. no one to stay at his side if he didn't- but he knew better than to have hoped for someone to stay if it had gone wrong. they would've died too- killed by whatever he would've become.

the people he wanted to be at his side had died anyway- most of them had. and he didn't know how to face the others / maybe he never would (but he owed it to them, didn't he? what a foreign concept that was, thinking he needed to do anything for anyone else. he was still changing in ways he didn't understand. mutations of a different sort / he wasn't certain whether they were beneficial or harmful, but they were changes. something in the remains of his heart / soul- something was changing). ❝ i would like to think the worst of it is over. ❞

and oh, how he means that in more ways than one! because this was some sort of fresh start / new beginnings; as new as they could be, right? because he isn't fighting with chris this time. this time, they're talking, and it isn't some sort of argument. it isn't insults thrown, snide comments and nonsensical ranting- it's a conversation. it's a step forward, even if it's a small one.

➤  [ 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙻𝙾𝙶𝙶𝙴𝙳 . . . ]

He should be smarter then this. Keyword being should be - especially given the past & how it'd played out, just what'd led to the events within the present. & yet, here he was still willingly reaching over, ready to stick his hand into the very mouth of the beast he'd spent the better part of a decade, over that even, trying to hunt down. All of it hinged on curiosity, overwhelming even as it remained lightly strung in some tethering strands of trust. With a twitch of his nose, hazel flit up, studying the other's face as he freezes for a moment, hand left hovering in the air just a breaths space away from actually making contact.

Things had changed, for worse & the hesitant better, though even that's arguable as he finds himself swaying between the two depending on what new thing is uncovered, some new side of the formerly cold, heartless man he'd used to work alongside. Used to admittedly respect a great deal until the mansion had happened.

It all feels like a completely different lifetime ago, despite it all taking place only years before. This whole thing ensnared him in a cycle that he knows he'll likely never be free from, & despite his lingering rage at the betrayal endured, at all the death brought about by the pale man's very hands, the chaos that followed each of his selfish, stupid decisions - it's died down from the once blazing flame it'd used to be down to a pitiful ember, still managing to flare from time to time at the wrong step forwards. But it's manageable now, harder to keep lit so fiercely when he's back within the other's presence without that same anger, righteous & visceral to blind & guide him.

Now? As he looks over his features, takes in the way the blonde almost seems to flinch away from Chris' hand. He doesn't blame him, given what he'd gone through. Though it's ultimately viewed as karmic, justifiably earned given what he'd done, Chris can't help the spike of something . . . not quite pity, but something more sympathetic from rising. All spurred on at the stupid decision he'd thoughtlessly made to touch one of the larger patches of scar tissue marring the side of the blonde's face.

Fear so raw & visceral flicker like a candles light across tensed features, reeling back he'd been struck as he stares back at the operative with wide eyes. Near offended in the way he tries to compose himself back together again, fragmented pieces garnered up in pale hands to try reforming his old mask like Chris hadn't just stolen a peek at what lay beneath.

He should be smarter then this - comes the passing thought slowly reminding him, but even as he hears those words, he continues on anyways, the slight pinching of his brows as he glances back down to the human scars, the permanent marks that etch themselves deep, pushing through like the fool he'd always been guided by blind curiosity. He's careful, like he was holding something sharp with bladed edges in his hands, cautiously dragging a thumb along soft skin with a silent swallow at the feelings that rise.

Maybe this was why he'd always been so quick to latch onto anger. To ignore & shut out everything the blonde would throw his way with all his monologuing, his ranting in the past. The time for talking had long since passed, but had he given him a crumb of time to explain more over react with lashing violence, who knew. Maybe things could have been different, could have been if he'd spotted the warning signs early enough. Or maybe things were doomed to play out this way, predetermined.

He stops his wandering mind there before he can lose himself in puddling thoughts any further, expression harshening for a moment as he recalls the heat of the lava, the lick of flames from their final fight, the look of madness glazing through ember bright eyes like twin suns, just as heated in the fury they bore. Desperate. Wesker had been nothing short of a rabid animal in need of being put down, far past the point of reasoning with - but this close, Chris can see none of the same madness lingering in those same sights.

Its conflicting. That internal feeling that'd guided him for years now, helping him make the right call when he couldn't trust his mind or emotions to not steer him wrong being absent.

There's no effort made to stop him even as he leans in so close, only the earlier flicker of fear, the mirroring look of lost confusion & stunned silence swimming behind his gaze. He brushes a thumb along the pointed curve of a cheekbone, pushing in a way that he knew would soon get his hand snapped at, tracing the edge until he can smooth along the upper brush of ridged scarring. Delicate. Human continues to echo - shattering that long held view of the man as nothing short of monstruous & irredeemable.

He says nothing, isn't sure he'd even know where to begin when the moment felt both smotheringly vulnerable, like any wrong move would crush & kill it without another chance to be revived, & uncomfortable. He gives a final pet of his finger along the other's face before he makes the decision to retreat, gaze dipping with confliction down to Wesker's arm with a sigh & a shake of his head.

"I hate that I never know what to make of you." Comes the mumbled response, tired but blunt in it's honesty. He wasn't a threat in the moment, hadn't been for a long time since they'd come across him again. But he'd always hold the potential to be. Chris just didn't know how to counter it, if he could stop it early before he fell back into that old destructive mindset again or try something new to stop it from ever being a possibility. He's tired of their back & forth fighting. It gets them nowhere, hadn't for the better part of a decade by this point. Something needed to change & give. "You don't . . . Do they hurt at all?"

Not a perfect step in the right direction, but at least it's a start to talking. Blunt as it is . . .

                                                •     •     •     •     •

[splenderai]

i have some Thoughts about grusha and arven meeting (and eventually becoming friends) that i just need to get out

i hc that arven becomes an apprentice of kofu's and learns a great deal about cooking from the acclaimed chef

after getting to know more about arven - what he's been through, his positive attitude, the hope he possesses with respect to the future despite all the setbacks he's faced at such a young age - kofu suggests arven meet an acquaintance of his (who, kofu thinks, might really benefit from having a friend like arven)

he sends the young, aspiring chef to the chilly heights of glaseado mountain in search of some rare ingredients only found there, instructing arven to stop by the local gym and deliver a homecooked treat to its leader, grusha

arven doesn't know what kind of person will be running the gym on top of a mountain, but he definitely doesn't expect to meet an incredibly beautiful young man who accepts the package and then immediately begins to scold arven for climbing up a snow-covered mountain without any gloves, scarf, or hat to shield him from the weather

("you need to be more careful in a place like this," he says. "it's unforgiving. can take away everything from you in an instant..." his voice is as far away as the look in his eyes when he says that)

grusha invites arven over for tea so that kofu's foolish apprentice can at least warm up a little before heading on his way, and arven makes a well-intentioned comment about how he likes the minimalistic style in grusha's house, to which grusha snorts and offers a hollow "thanks" in response

(grusha doesn't tell him about the framed photos of him beaming with his snow goggles and snowboard in hand that used to adorn the now bare walls, the trophies from his numerous victories on the slopes that now collect dust deep in the closets, his first ever snowboard that used to take center stage above his couch in the living room... none of that belonged here anymore)

they make small talk over tea, even finding common ground when arven mentions his best buddy, the young champion who grusha recalls battling

arven, who has been on this journey of finding himself and going down this path that he's chosen for himself, asks grusha a question similar to the one he's been asking most people he meets these days:

"what made you want to become a gym leader ?"

grusha's brows knit together, and he merely says that he "had no choice"

arven, confused, asks why he had no choice, but grusha only shrugs half-heartedly in response

arven, again well-intentioned but horribly misplaced, tries to reassure grusha by saying that, hey, you don't have to be a gym leader if you don't want to ! you can become whatever or whoever you want ! sometimes it feels like you're stuck with the bad hand you've been dealt, but it doesn't have to be that way ! the world is your cloyster and all that, y'know !

without warning, grusha's unfocused eyes sharpen into a frigid glare that he fixes on arven, stunning the latter into silence, and before arven even has a chance to offer some sort of apology (was it something he said ?), grusha is standing up quickly (wincing almost imperceptibly) and excusing himself for he has "gym duties" to attend to, his tone turning bitter and even colder as he spits out that last bit

his entire encounter with grusha plays on loop in his mind as arven gathers the ingredients for kofu and makes his slow trip back down the mountain

when arven returns to kofu's restaurant, the older man asks how his time in the mountain went

arven, ever the glass half full kind of guy, recounts his trip fondly, mentioning all the pokemon he met and the breathtaking views from atop the mountain, but his energy wanes when he talks about his meeting with grusha

"i think i really upset him," he says, guilt etched into his features

kofu puts a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, a bittersweet, knowing smile on his lips

"it's not you, boy, i promise."

arven only receives some clarity on the issue when he meets up with nemona at poco path to hang out a few weeks later

they talk for a while, catching one another up on their latest adventures, and arven inevitably tells his friend about the encounter with grusha

nemona waves a hand, telling arven that he shouldn't take this one too close to heart, that grusha's kind of not the friendliest guy out there

when arven asks her if she knows why he hates being a gym leader so much, she tells him everything she knows

she lays grusha's past bare, fondly remembering seeing him winning championship after championship on the tv when she was younger until "that nasty leg injury" put him out of commission for good, which led him to become the super tough gym leader he is now, and oooh arven, you should see his altaria in action, it's such a pretty pokemon but man does it pack a punch ! (she looks like she's ready to run all the way up that mountain and challenge him yet again, arven thinks)

the puzzle pieces start to click into place with all this new information, and arven can feel his stomach sink

the conversation they'd had replays in his mind, and arven wants to shove his whole fist in his mouth as he remembers all the seemingly nice things he'd said that would definitely strike a nerve for someone like grusha

it's another month or so after his meeting with nemona, and arven finds that he can't stop thinking about the young man on the mountain

grusha, whose spirit has been crushed by the cruel weight of reality, much like his nearly was until he met his little buddy and saved his beloved mabosstiff with their help

grusha, who has walls as high as the frigid peak he calls home up around him, keeping everyone around him out

grusha, with eyes that remind him of the way the first rays of dawn hit the impossibly blue waters of casseroya lake, a sight he was fortunate enough to see while hunting for herba mystica with his little buddy

such beautiful eyes filled with an aching pain darker and colder than the depths of the lake they resemble

arven can't believe he didn't recognize the look sooner

he'd seen it countless times in the mirror

arven needs to see him again

[bts5sosempire]

birthday twins

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: izana kurokawa x reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: neutral, friendship, reader being sarcastic, self-indulgent, slight spoilers, smug of angst if you squint, slight cussing, (no mention of age, but on the wiki, he's going to be 19)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,455

𝐚/𝐧: who knew that this guy would have the same birthday as me? 🤠 I do share the same bday with a few others, but he's the one that is currently at the top of my head at the moment. Not even proof read, y'all should know me at this point lol. Btw, hbd to anyone else who shares the same bday as me too! 🥳🥳

Flinging the warehouse metal door open, you scream at the bleach blonde man when he's in your line of sight, "Izana!" Making a beeline towards him, you were so out of breath once you stood up in front of him, taking deep breaths, you made a forefinger to insight him 'give me a minute,' before grabbing him by the neck collar and pulling him to your height level. "Why didn't you tell me your birthday falls on the same day as mine?" You rasp out, and the lilac eyes man keeps staring at you to continue, "Don't give me that dead fish eyes look puta."

Izana: "You have the same birthday as me?"

You: "That's what I just said, you dumbass."

Letting go of his collar, you brush your hair away and make yourself presentable. Readjusting your shoulder bag, you cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, thinking, while tapping one of your feet. "If it weren't for Kakucho blurting it out during our texting of madness, I wouldn't even know. Now that I think about it, we could be birthday twins."

Izana didn't know what to think, having a day dedicated to him. Was it only you two that were celebrating, or is the whole gang going to be involved also? It's been so long since he's been in people's thoughts or their afterthought. Besides, he remembers his older brother Shinichiro fondly, with who he used to exchange letters. Now looking at your face, there was an enormous grin. Was celebrating with him making you that happy too?

Izana wanted to know for sure, so he decided to test it out, "I don't know, I don't want to."

Your face instantly falls. "Awe, come on! It'll be fun; when was the last time you even celebrated it?" Izana ponders for a moment, his face thinking this time. It was rare for him even to throw a celebration, much less think of it. If there were people who knew about his birthday, they didn't even want to bring it up, considering Izana was scarier than any dead beings that had become one with the earth.

Izana: "What's going to be there for me?"

You: "I don't know, cake and presents, I guess? You know the usual thing about celebrating that we're one step closer to death."

You and your one-way brain could be applauded; Izana could barely waste time alone on himself, and if you don't find a way to convince him, he wouldn't even do it. Speaking scientifically and logically, Izana instead would dedicate his special day to thinking about ways how to take down Mikey.

"Then what do you want to do? What about things you wish you could've done before becoming-" You made a hand gesture going up and down at Izana, "-a gang leader?"

Izana didn't think that far honestly; he thought you would come here unprepared, but you were probably thinking while running to find him at his hideout.

"You know what forget it; I'm coming by tomorrow morning to celebrate it. Don't try to hide; I'll find you." You then open your bag and rummage it through and bring out a little present wrapped in pastel papers. "Just a small present for now; the better ones are for tomorrow." You grab his tan palm and set it graciously at the center before leaving the hideout, waving goodbye to the Tenjiku leader with a smile. Not before hitting a toolbar with your leg that you stumble and walk out even faster.

.

You went all out; you decided to celebrate it at your apartment with the Tenjiku gang. Izana was amazed that you managed to pull everything together in such a short time. You were more touching than usual, pulling him into hugs, grabbing his hands and tugging him along, playing with his hair, making him wear birthday caps, etc. Izana would and should be irritated with how you're acting towards him, but with this much attention from you, how could he even refuse? It's not every day someone would genuinely shower him with love and affection and not cripple him away from fear.

So he lets you do your own thing, taking the lead while he sits back and watches; it's much easier to be a background shadow. His eyes travel everywhere you go, from people to people, thanking them and guiding them to put the presents in a forgotten corner while telling them to help themselves at the refreshments and food table.

Izana had to admit that he was enjoying himself; seeing you shine more than any starlight somehow unlocked some memories he stored away in the back of his brain. You were once what he was, sober and intact in this world he described would be ugly and filthy. The world had marred its marks on him, making him undesirable, damaged, and insane to anyone who once viewed him positively. But you, your eyes don't seem to look at him in that way when he first met you upon a coincidence when you were about to be mugged in a shady alleyway. He thought you were stupid for not knowing fear that a more dangerous predator was out roaming the streets, but you were thankful enough to thank him by gripping his hand in gratitude and going on your way.

The rest of that is history; meeting after meeting led to a one-sided friendship that he couldn't let himself admit that he started caring for someone like you and that he should be deemed you were beneath him. But your wonderous eyes that held him in such a high regard stroke his ego, so he couldn't bring himself to lower your standards against him. It would undoubtedly hurt him if your views changed of him.

"Izana! Look what Kakucho brought me!" You happily show him the giant panda you had been eyeing for weeks is now in your arms; you were a sugar rush hugging Kakucho before running over to Izana like a puppy. "See, this is a cute thing I could put on my bed without a problem."

The party continued for hours, with people enjoying food, drinks, and games.

It wasn't until ten minutes before midnight that you were chilling on the balcony in the summer breeze that Izana made his presence known by opening your sliding glass door. He walks out and sees you looking over your shoulder at him.

"I guess our day isn't officially over in ten minutes." You muse out, watching him standing next to you. Izana stared ahead at the skyline of Japan, seeing all sorts of nightlife colors blurring together to create this mass of purple and red that was ever-shifting.

"Give me your wrist," Izana holds out his hand, and you offer him what he asked for; he took out a wooden trinket box with lovely designs that you couldn't make out how well it was crafted under such dim lights. He opened the box, and laying on top of the purple silken sheets was a bracelet with red and black strings and assorted colored pastel beads tied together. A tiny golden bell was accompanied by it, too, making a small jingle that hits the ear when rattled by the slightest movement.

You watch how delicate he was being towards you, fingers slightly brushing against your skin like ghosts hovering above before disappearing. It wasn't until that Izana was done he pulled his hands back and showed you his wrist was almost a matching bracelet. The beads were pitch black, with a silver arrowhead nestled right in the middle of the mass of darkness.

Izana: "I had yours blessed by the temple and monks before coming here."

You: "You didn't have to do that; I'm fine with it if it wasn't blessed."

Izana: "You need to since our life is tied up when we first meet."

You wonder what he means by that, but Izana didn't indulge you any further.

Izana didn't have the heart to tell you; people like him who were involved in shady shit ended up living a short life and much less wouldn't even consider this as a life. He didn't want to apply you with him; maybe a person born the same day as him could be destined for something more significant and beyond that, not just with him. He hates to admit it, but he wishes for your happiness and well-being before the day is over while at the temple too.

"Happy Birthday (Name)."

You were stunned when Izana smiled; it wasn't the chilling one that could mean trouble or make someone cower away, but a genuine one, even if it was small.

"Happy Birthday to you too, Izana."

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker Ever

Summary: Baji dares you to call Mikey a ‘piss boy.’ You’re an idiot, so of course you say you’ll do it. Things don’t go as planned...or do they?

Pairing: Sano Manjirou | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): mentions of omorashi (pissing), but there’s no actual pissing involved

You’re gonna die. Oh, dear God, our holy Lord and savior, you’re gonna fucking die.

Baji may be an idiot, but you’re an even bigger idiot for letting him convince you to call Mikey a piss boy.

It’s a pretty damn good trade-off, you foolishly reasoned when you accepted his offer: $10 and a spin on his motorcycle, which is basically hitting the jackpot for a broke, motorcycle-less middle schooler like yourself.

Now, what you failed to take into consideration, is that you’d literally be risking your life. Had you taken a step back and used your brain for a second or two, you would’ve realized that calling Mikey, of all people, a ‘piss boy’ isn’t worth the measly $10 Baji is currently waving in the air from across the room.

You open your mouth to chicken out. Baji pulls out another $10.

“You wanna waste your allowance? Fuckin’ fine,” you grumble under your breath, making damn well sure your icy glare is received and, yeah, the irritating smirk that widens across Baji’s face when you continue on your path to your demise means your message is read, crystal clear. He just doesn’t give a shit.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and practically march towards where Mikey is casually munching on fresh taiyaki, legs crisscrossed as he sits atop an old crate.

Oh, man. What would’ve been worse: interrupting one of Mikey’s naps or interrupting him mid-snack?

(Un)Luckily, you get to experience one of them today!

When your footsteps lead you to where you don’t want to be, you stop to stand directly in front of your target, who doesn’t immediately look up in your presence. Simply keeps munch, munch, munching.

It gives you a chance to hesitate, a chance to rethink your reckless decision, a chance to back out and save yourself from a one-sided ass beating.

Alas, the chance to make that split-second decision vanishes when deep, dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, the owner’s expression reading that he’s not exactly bothered to see you there, rather, simply curious to know what you want.

It’s the perfect moment to get this bet over and done with, so, along with your prayers, you just go outright and say it.

“‘Sup, Piss Boy.”

Mikey stops chewing, and you already feel your heart about to burst out of your chest.

The room comes to a dead silence, making it all the more nerve-wracking when, following a dreadful minute of absolutely nothing, Toman’s leader speaks.

“What.”

It’s the only word he says, voice low, emotionless, and instead of it being a question, it’s a demand, a challenge even, to dare you to reaffirm what couldn’t have possibly come out of your mouth.

You remind yourself to breathe, while mentally preparing yourself to get decked in the face, ‘cause it’s way too late to backpedal now. One of your feet is already in the grave; it wouldn’t hurt to speed things up and launch your entire body in there.

“Nothing. I just- I wanted to know how my, uh...my little piss boy is...doing?”

Well, you lived a good life.

Mikey stares at you, unblinking.

One second passes. Two.

Then-

“Are you into that?”

“I- Huh?”

“Baji said you’re into some weird stuff, but that’s pretty fucking dirty, (Y/n). Even dirtier than Ken-chin’s tastes.”

(”Don’t fucking drag me into this shit.”)

Seeing the horrified confusion on your face, Mikey’s head tilts ever so slightly to the side.

“You want me to take a leak on you, right?” he asks, and that’s when your soul says its farewell, leaving behind a red-faced corpse on the verge of combusting. Bringing a hand to his chin, he adds, “Or, did you want to piss on me?”

You thought getting beat up by Mikey would be bad?

No, no, no.

You’d gladly take that over this humiliation.

“Hey, Baji! What did the couple in your porn mag do? Did they take turns or what?”

And Baji, the piece of shit, can’t hold it in anymore and breaks out in the most obnoxious laughter, the kind that’s loud, unrestrained, and has him doubling over, gasping for air.

“Oh, fuck, this is gold!” He’s wheezing at this point, triggering a few of the others to start laughing as well, including Mitsuya, who, to his credit, at least tries to stifle his laughter. “Ask (Y/n) what he prefers! Ask!”

At the other boy’s persistence, Mikey raises an eyebrow at you, giving you his full attention as though genuinely curious to know what your pissing preferences are. It causes the flush coloring your face to turn 10 shades darker and 10 degrees hotter.

You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that your friends now think you have a piss kink, or the fact that Mikey is open to exploring said kink with you.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“I...” What do you even say in this situation?

“Do you want me to pee on you?” Mikey asks again in a much softer voice, hoping it’ll reassure you into giving him a direct answer. He doesn’t want to scare you, no. Knowing how nervous you get around him, he’s been doing his best to show only the good sides of himself to you.

That must be why he takes your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze to encourage you to speak up. What he doesn’t know, is that as opposed to being comforted by the kind action, it makes you feel mortified, especially at the insinuation of you wanting him to release his bodily fluids on you.

So mortified, actually, that the first thing that comes out of your mouth is an unintentionally shy, “Please, don’t pee on me...”

You realize your mistake the second those words are said.

Ahh! No! That’s not what you were supposed to say!

Why didn’t you say you don’t want anything to do with piss in general?!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Your head is spinning, thoughts going haywire after misspeaking , but what really sends you over the edge is the, admittedly, cute little smile you catch on Mikey’s face. Now, not only is your head in disarray, so is your heart.

“Alright. Since it’s you, I’ll let you do it.”

Nope. That’s it for you. Time to clock out of consciousness.

Thump!

“Oh. He passed out.”

Abrupt as it is, your passing out is of no concern whatsoever to Mikey. Nah, he finds it endearing as hell and crouches down to admire your ‘sleeping’ face.

“He must’ve been super happy,” he fondly muses, completely ignoring Draken’s advice to make sure you’re still breathing in favor of stroking your head and pinching your cheeks. 

(”He might die, dumbass. I’m tellin’ ya.”

“He won’t. (Y/n)’s strong.”)

On the other side of the room, Baji has zero fuel left in him to bark out another laugh at Mikey and his gullibility when it comes to wooing the person he fancies, though he does have the energy to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Best $20 I’ve ever spent,” he blissfully remarks to Chifuyu.

“Baji-san, this isn’t how you play matchmaker.”

“Dude, this is exactly how you play matchmaker.”

To prove his point, the long-haired teen points back to where Mikey is sitting beside you on the ground, carrying out a normal conversation with Draken, like there isn’t an unconscious person right beside them.

“Ken-chin, where should I take (Y/n) for our first date?”

“Huh? Date? I thought he was just gonna piss on you?”

“That means he likes me, Ken-chin,” Mikey explains, sounding, for all it’s worth, similar to a parent teaching their child a new life lesson. “And if the person I like likes me enough to want to piss on me, then, obviously, I should take him on a date.”

It makes no fucking sense, but if Mikey wants to believe that your love language is spilling less than desirable bodily fluids on each other, then so be it.

Because for him, anything goes as long as it’s you.

Not only are you $20 richer, you also scored yourself a date with someone that would let you take a piss on them and vice versa.

Aren’t you a lucky guy?

[idy-ll-ique]

One And Only.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: s*x

Requested: nope

Summary: Their marriage is for business purposes only but they fall in love. Until Y/N starts having a doubt... does Steve Rogers have a mistress? It's all a misunderstanding...

Author's Note: Hiya peeps, iw!Steve in this one. Enjoy!

---

"Hey, you doing okay?" Y/N turned away from the mirror and smiled at Natasha and Wanda. "As well as a bride could be minutes before her wedding," she jabbed, making the ladies chuckle. "It's going to be fine, Y/N, Steve will treat you well. We've been friends with him for years, one thing we know about him is that he never treats women wrong."

"I don't doubt that, it's just that— I met him a week ago. One time. I don't even know him, anything about him, other than the fact that he leads the most feared crime gang in the entire country," Y/N muttered, tugging at the sapphire necklace she was wearing. Something blue. "You will get to know him soon enough, though. Come on now, everyone is waiting."

Her father stood outside the door, a soft smile on his face. "You look lovely, honey," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as the two ladies sauntered past them into the Hall with their partners. "Thank you, papa." The two people walked into the Hall and everyone stood up to greet the bride. At the end of the aisle stood Steve, tall and proud, a huge smile on his face.

Y/N couldn't help but smile back. As soon as she reached near him her father let go, but not before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Steve took her hand and brought it to his lips when she stood in front of him. The priest standing next to them began his usual recitations; Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today… Y/N didn't really pay attention to his speech.

She was busy staring at Steve, who looked magnificent in an all black suit, his dirty blond hair and full beard making her feel all sorts of things. His smile softened a bit, also not listening to the priest. He was observing her. It was supposed to be purely transactional, the marriage, but he knew it wasn't gonna end like one. It would be a proper marriage.

Happily married.

She looked wonderful. He met her a week ago; a bit wary at the concept of merging two mobs by marriage but the moment he saw her, he knew he had to have her. She was his, no one else's. The two quickly exchanged their vows as the ring bearers came forward with the rings. The bride and the groom took the rings with smiles and turned to face each other.

"Steve Rogers, do you take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?" The priest turned to Steve expectantly.

"I do," Steve spoke, loud and clear, as he slipped the ring on Y/N's finger. Y/N had to admit, she felt a bit giddy when those words left his mouth.

"Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Steve Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?" Y/N smiled shyly at Steve. "I do."

Steve grinned widely when she neatly placed the ring on his finger. "You may now kiss the bride." And the whole room erupted into stentorian cheering as Steve gathered his wife in his arms, pressing his lips to hers in a deep kiss. Only when he heard a wolf-whistle coming from the crowd did Steve stop, pulling away to look at his out-of-breath wife.

"Mrs Rogers," he spoke fondly and she giggled. "Mr Rogers," she teased as they turned to the crowd, Y/N clutching Steve's arm as they smiled widely. Not many people had attended the impromptu wedding; just Steve's close friends and Y/N's father. Her bridesmaids were Natasha and Sharon, with Wanda being her maid-of-honor.

Steve's groomsmen were Sam and Tony, with Bucky being his best man. "Well, the first dance goes to the bride and her father, I'd say," Clint called out, already helping himself to a bottle of beer as music started playing. Steve reluctantly handed his wife over to her father, bidding her with a sweet kiss on her cheek.

"I hope you know why I had to do this, honey," her father sighed as they danced in the middle of the Hall. "I know, papa. Don't feel bad, I think I'm starting to like Steve. He seems friendly enough and Nat and Wan told me he's good to women." Her dad chuckled. "Well, he doesn't have the label of promiscuity that other leaders do." He was right.

Steve Rogers never really had time for dating, too busy leading the salient mafia. Also, the thought of having women just for a night or two didn't sit right with him, so he never went in that direction. "Can I have this dance now?" As soon as the song changed Steve appeared on her side, holding his hand out. She smiled and took his hand.

He easily slid an arm around her waist as the music slowed. One hand around her waist and the other holding her hand in classic ballroom dancing position, he pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest, the arm which was around his neck lowering to his middle. "I'll treat you well," Steve whispered as they languidly swayed in the middle of the room.

"I know. If it's not much, um, I think I'd like to take things slow…" she hinted, hoping he'd notice. And he did. "Of course, of course, we can do that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way," he assured her. "Thank you, Mr Rogers," she mumbled. "My pleasure, Mrs Rogers." The rest of the ceremony was enjoyable to say the least.

---

10 months had passed since the wedding.

Steve and Y/N were still taking things slow, against their own wishes.

It was a misunderstanding.

They loved each other; they really did, but they couldn't bring themselves to say the words to the other. Steve was purposely not making the first move, in fear that his wife would think he was rushing things. Y/N, on the other hand, had started severely doubting herself because 10 months have passed, does he not want to be with me anymore?

She was expecting him to make the first move, and he was expecting her to give him the permission first. It was annoying, to say the least. They were still friendly with each other, so Steve didn't pay much attention to the anxiety his wife was feeling. Y/N was beside herself with worry that had increased tenfold since... well, 15 minutes ago. She had overheard a conversation.

"So, how's Smith treating ya?"

"Same old, ya know. He has like 3 bitches as mistresses, thinks I don't know about 'em. Which mob man doesn't have a mistress in today's world, ha?"

"Preach, sister. I'd think even Rogers has one, heard somewhere that he and his little wife haven't even consummated their marriage. Probably doesn't even wanna be with her, he did marry her for the business."

"Mmhm, I agree. What about you, Lin?"

"Oh, Danny? Probably out there sleeping with Denise."

She didn't mean to eavesdrop on their personal conversation, but she couldn't help it. Mistress? She was familiar with the term, but what she was not familiar with was the fact that nearly all married mobsters had one. And when they mentioned Steve, she was done for. Crying, she had gone back to her room, collapsing on the bed, sobbing.

In her crying state, she failed to notice Steve also in the room as she raked her brain, thinking about all the times Steve had come home from work. He had given her no reason to believe that he had another woman, but what if he was just that good at hiding it? "Sweetheart? My love, why are you crying?" The bed dipped next to her.

Steve had just stepped out of the shower when his wife had thrown the door of their shared suite open, falling on the bed with a nerve-wracking sob. Why was she crying? "S-Steve…" she stammered and he pulled her on his lap, rocking her back and forth, getting her to calm down. It worked as Y/N's heart rate slowed down.

"Y/N, tell me, what happened? Who hurt you, tell me their names." Steve suddenly saw red at the prospect of someone hurting his wife. "N-No one hurt me, I just… I accidentally overheard a conversation I shouldn't have and—" She trailed off when her breath hitched. Steve soothingly rubbed her back, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"What were they talking about?"

"Mistresses. One of the ladies said that nearly all mob men had mistresses and I— We haven't even consummated our marriage, haven't done anything besides kissing so I just thought— Do you have a mistress?" Her question shocked him. Him? Keeping a mistress when he had a wife he was head-over-heels for? "My darling, I love you."

She looked up at his words. "You do?" she mumbled, taking a deep breath. "Of course I do. The only reason I didn't say anything was because you told me, on the day of our wedding, that you wanted to take things slow. Before doing something, I needed your permission and that's why I haven't made a move on you." Y/N felt very silly all of a sudden.

"I'm so sorry for accusing you—"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Don't apologize to me, princess. Come here." He hugged her tightly, cradling the back of her head as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Do you know how many of my colleagues have asked me the same question?" She gently shook her head. "One too many. Do you know what I say to them each time?"

"No…"

"I say, why would I have a mistress when my wife makes me the happiest person on the planet? Why would I have a mistress when my wife is an angel personified? You guys are just jealous that she's mine and not yours." Y/N's skin burnt at his praise and she burrowed closer to him. "Steve," she muttered bashfully and felt him chuckle underneath her.

"Will you allow me to show you just how much I love you?"

"Yes."

He gently lowered her on the bed and hovered above her, one large hand coming to rest on her cheek. Then he made quick work of their clothes until they were bare in front of each other; Steve's eyes went wide with awe when he saw her body. "You are perfect," he declared, his warm hands grabbing every bit of skin it came in contact with as his lips touched her neck.

Y/N mewled underneath him when he shamelessly groped both her breasts, groaning. "So perfect. So beautiful. Only mine, my one and only," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss as he felt his shaft harden. "I love you," she blurted out as one of his hands found her core, his fingers scissoring her open, getting her ready for penetration.

"I love you too, my sweet," he smiled at her before lining his shaft against her core. He pushed in inch-by-inch, giving her some time to adjust to his size. He was bigger than anyone she had previously been with, much bigger. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan as he bottomed out inside her, grunting. "None of that," he rasped, "I want to hear you."

Y/N groaned when he lazily rotated his hips, not holding back, just like he asked. "That's it, baby girl. Just like that." He sped up inside her, grabbing the headboard of the bed, each snap of his hips sending waves of pleasure washing over Y/N. "Oh, Steve," she whimpered, her hands balling into fists around the bedsheets she was clutching, moving weightlessly against him.

"Are you close, my dear?" he growled when her walls clenched around him. She meekly nodded, throwing her head back as she tried to hold in. "Only one moment, love, I'm close too." His thrusts soon got sloppier. "Cum with me," he ground out before letting go, shooting his load inside her. Y/N came just moments later, her arms wrapping around Steve's shoulders when he slumped on her.

"There we go, our marriage is sealed," he joked and she laughed tiredly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Steve rolled off of her, smiling gently when he saw her drifting in and out of consciousness. "Go to sleep, I'm right here. I'll take care of you." He got up and walked to the closet, taking out a spare towel. Running it under some hot water, he sat next to her and cleaned her up.

Then he cleaned himself up, put on a pair of pyjama pants and lay down next to his sleeping wife, an automatic smile blooming on his face. He'd dreamed that their first time would be unforgettable, and it was, but he also wished it was… longer. God knew he was an insatiable man; but he also didn't want to pressure the woman he had grown to love.

There's always a next time, anyway.

"Sleep tight, my dear."

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[realcube]

❥ HOW HE CONFESSES

characters ❥ mikey, draken & baji 

tw ❥ the beach, bad driving, mentions of murder and cursing 

cr ❥ requested by anon

a/n ❥ i’ve not read the manga yet :’(

MIKEY 

♥ his love language is shoplifting for you <33

♥ like okay.. in writing it kinda sounds pathetic compared to all the other shit he does but like.. he goes through the effort of personally picking up your favourite snack from the grocery store —instead of getting his toman underling to do it for him — and hiding them under his shirt 

♥ and he thinks about you the whole time he is sprinting away from security 

♥ if that isn’t true love idk what is 

♥ today wasn’t any ol’ day tho, snacks and sweets were going to cut it 

♥ instead, he went for the big shiny rock on a ring he keeps seeing the window of the rock shop on the high street

♥ it was pretty, for a rock, but not pretty enough for anyone in their right mind to think it’s worth £10,000/$14,000/ ¥1,500,000!!!

♥ however, after hearing that price from a salesperson, he knew that stupid rock ring was exactly how he’d win your heart <3 

♥ it was a challenge and it had him working overtime, but after pulling some strings, doing a couple favours, and maybe even inadvertently killing some people (you never know 🤷‍♂️), he managed to get his hands on the pristine stone, which he had come to learn was called a diamond, which was why it was so expensive 

♥ the guy who did him the favour of stealing it initially asked if mikey was planning on proposing and mikey said yes —since asking you out on a date is technically a proposal — and the dude didn’t even question it, he just said good luck

♥ and that sort of energy was exactly what mikey needed right now as he stood behind a wall near your lunch table as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do 

♥ all your friends had left yet you were still sitting there alone since mikey texted you and asked for you to wait behind, and the fact you actually did filled him with hope from the get-go

♥ “(y/n)! there you are!” mikey greeted as if he didn’t know exactly where you were this whole time. why was his heart thumping so harshly in his chest? and why did he suddenly feel overwhelmingly embarrassed? i mean, he’s not done anything worth being awkward about.. yet.

♥ he didn’t understand. he never usually gets this way around people. but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised since he knew you were an exception from the beginning

♥ “hi, mikey.” you hummed, head propped gently on your arm while you slipped your phone away, “why did you want to see me? is something wrong?”

♥ the slight concern he detected in your voice was enough for him to immediately blurt out, “oh, no! nothing like that! everything is great; i am great and i, erm, hope you are too.” he announced, somewhat glad that your only reaction was a blank stare as it meant he doesn’t feel inclined to explain himself 

♥ “so, uh, i was just wonder if you..” he started, clenching his jaw as he mentally reassured himself. the fact that he felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed made things infinitely harder from him. he took a deep breath, and spilled

♥ “do you want to go out on a date with me sometime?” he basically screamed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and emptying his left pocket onto the table in front of you so that his special gift would accompany his proposal 

♥ he closed his eyes as if that was going to protect him from rejection, but before he was able to silently rebuke himself, he heard faint sobbing from where he dropped his present 

♥ upon opening his eyes, the shock from the sight before him was enough to give him whiplash

♥ in an unfortunate turn of events, he must’ve emptied the wrong pocket because sitting on the table in front of you was not a diamond ring, but rather a sherbet dip he bought to share with you if you said ‘yes’ to his proposal 

♥ and his suspicions were correct, you were the one crying 

♥ ....

♥ waIT WHY ARE YOU CRYING mikey panicked, frantically looking around for someone who might’ve hurt you, or perhaps someone he’d have to send to A&E

♥ “are you okay?”

♥ “yeah.” you whispered, your light chuckle enough to prevent mikey from worrying any more, “i’m just..” you stuttered, smiling fondly at the blonde, “i’m just really happy. i thought you’d never ask.” 

♥ it was impossible for mikey to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he slumped down next to you on the bench, “thank god. i thought someone had threatened you or something.”

♥ “threatened me? why would they do that?” you innocently cocked your head to the side, rubbing your eyes as you did so. 

♥ oh, yeah. mikey hadn’t been fully transparent with you about his.. current employment. as far as you knew, he was a full-time student at ‘toman academy’ and he had a part-time job babysitting (which was hardly a lie, in his opinion)

♥ so you didn’t really know about how he was the leader of the tokyo manji gang or any of that

♥ originally he thought it was fine to keep it a secret, but now that you were officially his partner it would be immoral to not let you know about his affiliation with the gang 

♥ so he decided to tell you over a sherbert <33

♥ “so, are we official?” he cooed, ripping the lollypops out of the bag and popping one in his mouth while offering you the other by tapping it against your lips lightly 

♥ “yep.” you smiled, taking the lolly into your mouth with a smile, glad that he didn’t bring up your little waterworks a few second ago 

♥ but in all honesty, he was preoccupied wondering what the most appropriate way to phrase ‘i am the leader of a gang of delinquents’ would be 

♥ poor little mikey brain working on overdrive 

♥ he decided to pull out the ring, since he still had to give that to you, so while you were entranced by the fat gem glistening under the light in mikey’s possession, he began, “so, babe, do you think being a gang leader is hot?”

DRAKEN

♥ he honestly didn’t have a clue how to ask you out

♥ in fact, he didn’t even know that he had a crush on you until mikey pointed out all of his weird behaviours around you 

♥ so his first instinct was to go to mikey for advice when thinking of ways to ask you out 

♥ but the only idea that mf was to get ‘will you go out with me, (y/n)?’ tattooed onto his ‘thick skull’ and ofc draken wasn’t about to do that

♥ although he did consider it for like.. a minute

♥ (he was like.. hmmmm... well, the tattoo guy does owe me a favour so... maybe i could get it for free?)

♥ (or permanent marker might work???)

♥ anyway, he eventually decided to ask you out the good ol’ fashion way!! by just telling you how he feels

♥ however, once he explained this plan to mikey, he was scoffed and said ‘good luck with that’ in the most condescending tone of voice

♥ draken’s initial instinct was to simply beat up mikey and go ask you out anyway, but this conflict ran deeper than just him and mikey bickering about trivial issues- his whole relationship was on the line! 

♥ so after hearing the leader out, he finally decided on the most appropriate way to confess — just like how all the dudes in the animes mikey and him and watched did it 

♥ by giving you flowers and chocolates <3

♥ and mikey even offered to come into the store with draken and help him choose the goods since mikey was a self-proclaimed ‘love-expert’

♥ draken obviously denied his offer but he came along anyway 

♥ “ooh, ken-chin! look at these ones, they’re on sale.” mikey gasped, happily grabbing a pack of heart-shaped chocolates off the shelf, ripping them open and stuffing his face, “and they are delicious too!”

♥ paying no attention to the fact that mikey had essentially already committed a crime since there was no way he intended to pay for those chocolates, draken mused while eyeing up the rest of the sweets, the bouquet of flowers he had already chosen tucked under his arm, “valentine’s day was a week ago, that’s probably why they are on sale.” 

♥ “draken?” 

♥ a familiar voice from the end of the aisle caused draken to avert his gaze from the chocolates displayed in front of him and instead search for the source of the voice, which happened to be you standing innocently with your basket in-hand

♥ “ah, (y/n),” draken tensed, immediately shoving the bouquet of flowers behind his back at hopefully out of your sight as he put on a forced smile to distract from them too, “what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

♥ “hm?” mikey chimed in, unable to vocalise his curiosity through the chocolates stuffed in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying, “is that the (y/n) you were talking about? the one you were going to conf--” 

♥ “that’s enough outta you.” draken hissed through a fake smile, shoving mikey into the next aisle, which happened to be the snack aisle so, entertained, he decided to stay put

♥ “oh, is that your friend mikey?” you inquired, having only ever heard about mikey through rumours up until now. though none of them exactly matched the image you saw just there

♥ “yep, he’s pain sometimes, but he’s still cool.” draken muttered, awkwardly rolling on the balls of his feet as he waited for a deity to save him from this interaction —  not that he didn’t want to talk to you, it’s just that every second you spend with him, the less likely it becomes that his confession will go as planned

♥ and you only confirmed that with your follow-up question

♥ “i see you’ve got flowers, and you’re looking for chocolates. who’s the special someone?” you teased, poking draken’s cheek playfully (which is one of the many things he only finds comfort in when you do it)

♥ “oh, no one.” he hummed, his coy smile doing a number on your heart rate

♥ “how about you? who is that card for?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the classic pink ‘i have something to tell you... <3′ confession card that was only in-stock during valentine’s day season, that was sitting atop the groceries in your basket

♥ a cocky smirk tugged at his lips — as if to say ‘i won’ — while he watched you become increasingly flustered right in front of him. it was adorable

♥ but he thought it would stop there; stop with him winning the teasing battle, you getting all sheepish then leaving but that apparently wasn’t your plan

♥ instead, you lowered your head and outstretched your arms to give him the card (which was still in the wrapping plastic) 

♥ “red-handed. i bought these with you in mind, draken.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “but if you don’t accept then that’s fine too, have a nic--”

♥ “who said i don’t accept?” draken grumbled, almost as if he was annoyed, as he took your card and examined the card thoroughly for a couple seconds

♥ then suddenly, he froze. the shock of the realisation leaving him stunned to the point where the only thing he could do was shift his eyes from the card on to you and utter in a terrified tone, “this isn’t, uh, this isn’t a confession, is it?”

♥ you shrugged, “i guess, it is.” 

♥ “damn it.” draken cursed, glaring at the snack aisle and hence mikey, for giving him this stupid idea

♥ “is there a problem?” 

♥ “no.” draken said through gritted teeth before pulling out the bouquet his had hidden behind his back, “but i was meant to confess first.”

♥ your jaw dropped, leaving draken concerned for a second until you instantly pulled him in for a tight hug; another thing he admired about you was that you gave hugs like you were in the mafia, strong enough to cut off his airflow

♥ “double confession!” you squealed, absolutely delighted that draken not only wanted to confess to you, but he had the same idea to come to the shop and buy stuff beforehand

♥ “i guess so.” draken chuckled, handing you the bouquet of flower as soon as you pulled away, “these are for you.” 

♥ you gasped, smiling at how he managed to remember your favourite kind of flower after a single off-handed comment you made ages ago, “thank you!” you hugged them to your chest, “have you already paid for them?”

♥ “no.” draken replied simply. “but they are still yours.”

♥ sometimes it slipped your mind that draken was part of a literal gang since.. he just seemed so normal and humble 

♥ but on some other occasions, it was painfully difficult to consider draken anything close to ‘normal’

♥ and one of those moments was when he was trying to convince security he was pregnant with a flower-baby, and when that evidently didn’t work, he just made a run for it with mikey, whose pants pockets were filled with sweets that trailed behind him where ever he ran

BAJI

♥ he didn’t even ponder about how he was supposed to confess to you for over a second

♥ the idea just came to him instantly and he went with it

♥ the only question he asked was ‘how can i show them how badass i am without bragging?’ and he immediately came up with an answer and rolled with it, no questions asked 

♥ and there was no planning or anything done beforehand either, he literally just texted you ‘where are you?’ at like 7PM and when you replied ‘the park’, he hopped on his bike and sped over 

♥ like he didn’t even ask which park.. he just guessed.. but he guessed correctly 

♥ your heart almost stopped as you watched a chunky motorcycle come speeding towards you at such a rate that all you could do was brace for impact and kiss goodbye to your relatively peaceful live

♥  however, at the very last second it swerved around you and came to a halt, allowing the rider to extend his free hand to you, “hop on.”

♥ the voice was all to familiar and you weren’t surprised at all to see baji with his signature ‘i could kill you’ grin plastered on his face 

♥ as your heart rate slowly began to return to normal, you cried, “what do you mean ‘hop on’? you almost ran me over!”

♥ he unclipped his helmet and tossed it to you, “safety first.”

♥ “did you even hear what i just said?” you grumbled, putting on the helmet anyway 

♥ “i think you said something about how excited you are to finally go out with me.” he mused, shuffling forwards slightly to give you more space to sit on behind him, like a true gentleman /s

♥ “no.” you replied simply. 

♥ though you initially had no intention of going anywhere with him, you still found yourself reaching your leg over his bike to take a seat behind him, “where are we going?”

♥ baji shrugged, chuckling slightly as he felt you gently wrap your arms around his hips, “don’t know, but hold on tight.” he warned, revving his engine and taking off without another word

♥ perhaps you were the fool for getting on a motorcycle with baji and letting him take you to an undisclosed location, but you trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try to drive you off a cliff or put you in danger.. or at least, that is what you hoped

♥ however, if it wasn’t a rival gang that kills you, baji’s driving definitely would

♥ he drives like a madman and left you with no other choice but to cling onto him for dear life, since if you didn’t bury yourself into his side, you’d probably fly off with all sharp turns he does around the other cars/bikes

♥ it was like being taped to the top of a vehicle in mario cart

♥ eyes squeezed shut, you yelled over the harsh blaring of the wind, “slow the fuck down! where are you even taking me?” 

♥ baji was having fun, but he was getting the feeling you weren’t..

♥ usually he doesn’t care about what other think but this was the first time he was taking you out, he didn’t want you to think of him as a maniac driver, or else you might not want to come with him ever again

♥ “if you open your eyes, you’ll see.” he uttered, slowing down slightly so the noises weren’t as harsh 

♥ taking his word for it, you hesitantly pried open one of your eyes and turned your neck so your face was no longer pressed against his shoulder

♥ and honestly, you were glad you did. passed the edge of the road, you had the perfect view of the beach below, the sea gently glistening under the orange sunset 

♥ now that your nose was free from only breathing in baji’s sickeningly strong, wild spice body spray, you finally able to enjoy fresh ocean air 

♥ “the beach.” you mused, smiling down at the completely deserted sandy shore, which looked so beautifully peaceful in contrast to how busy it was when you usually come 

♥ “no shit.” baji chuckled, his eyes remaining glued to road, despite how much he wanted to see your reaction

♥ you let out a defeated sighed, leaning against his back, “but it’s closed.”

♥ baji nodded, “yep, that means we’ve got the whole place to ourselves!”

♥ before you could question what baji meant by that, he steered off the edge of the road and down the steep hillside which led to the beach, though it definitely was not meant to be drove on as there were several warning sign at the side of the road, warning drivers about the hill

♥ “baji, what the fuck?!” you screamed over baji’s amused laughter, similar to the way you’d laugh if you were playing GTA, rather than playing with actual human lives

♥ “isn’t this fun?” he yelled back, enjoying how the wind felt against his skin as he maneuvered his bike down the steep hill 

♥ honestly, you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed it or not, but as soon as the bike came to a smooth landing upon the soft sand of the beach, you found yourself silently wanting to do that again

♥ “well, how was that?” baji asked, immediately hopping off the bike on his own only so he could offer you a hand

♥ accepting his hand, you stepped off the cycle only to notice that your legs were shaking, yet you oddly liked it, “that was.. okay.” you murmured, not wanting to feed his ego but also unable to lie to him.

♥ “great.” he uttered, leaning forward to carefully unclip your helmet for you and sling it over the handle of his bike

♥ “so,” he started, looking around the beach for any stray cops or surveyors, “what do you wanna do?” 

♥ he felt a light tug on his jacket sleeve, causing him to look down and meet your pleading gaze, “do you think we could go out again? some other time, maybe?”

♥ all baji did was laugh, resulting in you become sheepish for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around you picked you up for a hug, “obviously!”

♥ you smiled, your cheeks heating up slightly, “nice!”

♥ “anyway,” he started, placing you back down and dashing off towards the sea, “loser owes me lunch!”

♥ ignoring how he gets lunch either way, you immediately sprinted off behind him, watching as he dramatically fell over a large shell and face-planted into the the sand

♥ being the kind friend you are, you ignored him and continued running towards the water, only for him to grab your ankle and trip you up too

♥ “ha!” that is how he shows affection <3

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're so lovely in his eyesーbut he doesn't deserve someone as lovely as you. and yet, he can't help but savor the feeling even more.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): slight cursing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: gender neutral

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: je te laisserai des mots ー patrick watson

did i just write for dimitri? yes. do i possibly have a thing for tall blonde men with eyepatches and maybe some trauma? maybe. is this proof that i am a thirsty simp? fuckin yes

also reader isn't byleth btw, and this is pre-time skip dimi ughh this is so bad, sorry dimi bby

Dimitri is many thingsーa good leader, polite, strong, chief among them. But being experienced in love isn't. That is a quality of his that, as the Blue Lions often say, he must put in more effort in it.

Really, he swears that he just admires you! What's not toーyou've actually beaten him at swordplay, you've helped out your fellow Blue Lions, and you've supported him a lot. It's only natural that he speaks so fondly of you to others and looking so eager to see you every day. Why must everyone tease him about his so very blatant "crush"?

Poor Dimi mistakes the way his heart goes into marathon mode, the dizzying feeling in his stomach, and how he feels so light around you, as just mere admiration, and nothing more. But the Blue Lions say otherwise, and spend a good portion telling Dimitri that he really is in love. Haha, how strange life can be.

They say that love is very unpredictableーmakes people act so weird, y'know? Perhaps this is just one aspect of humanity that makes it beautiful, to act so weirdly in the name of love.

That makes Dimitri a weirdo then.

His soft, aquamarine-like eyes are staring. They're staring at you. You, who is so oblivious to his gaze, which resembles a love-sick fool. Hmph, well, if the way he stared wasn't obvious, then the way he speaks to you is enough to give him away.

The way he stutters, the way that Dimitri averts his eyes away from your formーit's rather cute. It seems that all of those manners and etiquette he learned flew themselves out of the window, and he's left as such a mess.

Yesーa cute, love-sick mess. All for you.

Dimitri is such a flustered mess around youーeven just talking to you is enough to make his heart go into panic mode. He can't even ask you a simple question, it's laughable really. Sylvain is too busy laughing somewhere in the background at Dimitri's behavior.

Seeing a man who's so normally composed and upright start acting so weird is quite concerning to you, and you seriously think the poor man has caught something from overworking himself so often.

Of course, he isn't just a flustered mess all the timeーhe can still praise you! Did you swing that sword in a particularly strong way? Good job, you did so well! He's in such awe of everything about youーhe can't help but want to praise you!

He is absolutely the type to help you out with anything that you require, and no, he does not handle any gratitude in return very well. If you're sick, he handles anything that you cannot, fetching your assignments and bringing you food. His much more gentlemanly side will shine through as wellーhe will hold open the door for you, offer to carry your books, the list goes on.

Gods above forbid that you show him any sort of kindness or affections when he's become so full of adoration for you. He literally cannot handle itーhis cheeks resemble that of tomatoes and you swear that you can see steam coming from his face from how hot his face has become.

" Dimi? You okay? " your soft voice breaks into the fog within his mind. You inquisitively tilt your head at the blonde, as he clears his throat, throwing together some jumbled words that you can barely make out. Hmm, how weird.

He's been acting like this for some time by nowーand you have half a mind to think that Dimitri might actually like you back, but he's way too good for you to even spare you the tiniest of glances, so that thought has been buried deep within.

You repeated your question again, with Dimitri attempting to reassure you that he was indeed fine, just a bit overwhelmed was all. Hmph, even after you scolded him the last time.

You brought a hand up to his forehead, gently pressing down. Huh, no fever. You suppose that it wasn't him trying to push himself past his limits. He was really okaー

Huh?

His cheeks, which had been on the verge of cooling themselves down, had practically erupted into red, his whole body shook as his mouth gaped open like a fish.

" Iーyouーughhーy-youーmy-!"

Whatever came out of his mouth was nothing more than garbled words, gibberish put together without any thought. Poor Dimi is quite literally melting where he stands, unable to properly speak or anything of the sort. His etiquette has practically left his poor body at this point.

" D-dimi? You okaー" " A-apologies, I must see myself out!" without warning, he dashes off, his face still burning, and words that were spoken so fast you could barely have made them out. Huh, he really was a weirdo.

You can't look at this man and not think that he wouldn't be whipped for the one he adores. He memorizes anything that you likeーyour favorite tea, your favorite color, your hobbies, anything. So don't be too surprised when you receive a gift on your desk, anonymously of course.

He would definitely invite you to tea with himーunder the guise of the two of you needing a nice break and some peace from all your stress. Unbeknownst to you, he's mentally panicking over whether or not he arrange the flowers in the right position, or whether or not the tea is to your liking.

However, despite the longing gazes and the red-faced confrontations, Dimitri feels so undeserving of you. You're someone so bright, so lovely, and amazingーthere's no way that you'd even so much as reciprocate his feelings for you. It's something that he cruelly reminds himselfーhe doesn't deserve you. How could he ever make someone as brilliant as you happy enough?

But a deep, hidden part of him quietly echos out its desires for youーto be the reason why you laugh oh-so happily, to be able to hold you dearly close and get lost in you and to just feel whole again. Ahーto freely embrace you without restraint and tell you of his adoration for you. Yes, that is what Dimitri truly wants.

Perhaps someday, he'll be able to say all of this without making a fool of himself, and properly confess his feelings to you.

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[local-spoon-does-a-thing]

Sickness

[(Bayverse) Optimus Prime x Reader]

A/N: Here’s some more Papa Bot fic. Should I make a bonus ending/part about them arriving at the gas station or some shit like that? Also this fic got out of hand and idk how it ended up like this. Hope you enjoy!

“Ugh...hey, Optimus? Can you roll down the window? I need some fresh air.” You mumbled out and leaned your head against the door. For some reason, you felt sick to the core. That’s probably because you were, in fact, sick. Perhaps it was something you ate for dinner yesterday? You did have a rough night trying to sleep. But at this moment, you just wanted to jump out of the moving vehicle, lay on the side of the road, and perish. Your stomach was not agreeing with you at all and begged you to purge out whatever was in it. Once the window was rolled down, you immediately poked your head out and took in a deep breath. Ah, that was much better. But that still didn’t get that sickening feeling out of your stomach. Maybe a nice bottle of water would help cure you. Your hand moved towards where the cup holders would be located and attempted to grab a bottle of water. Though, there was nothing. Looking back, you saw that you didn’t even bring water with you. Oh, right, you’ve forgotten. Earlier when Ratchet had suggested that you bring a couple bottles of water for the trip, you refused and reassured him that you were fine when in reality, you were just too lazy to carry them. In defeat, your hand flopped back down and you poked your head out once more.

Currently, you and the team were traveling to another city in a different state, as it was stated that there were some Decepticon sightings located there. This was going to be your first mission with them and after countless of merciless begging to go with them, they finally agreed to let you travel with them. Ratchet and Ironhide thought that it was a horrible idea, Bumblebee was simply ecstatic that you would get to go with them, and Optimus was just too tired to deal with your tantrums like a tired father. Who would’ve thought that out of all the members of the team, you seemed to be the closest with the Autobot leader himself. Anyone else would’ve thought that you two were polar opposites. You were a simple person that liked to joke a lot and showed some signs of arrogance while Optimus was more on the serious and wise side. Little did anyone know that you two balanced each other out. He kept you grounded to reality while you made sure that he would have fun during his time on Earth. Though your adventures with them have just merely started, you can tell that you’ve made an impact on the team. Everyone seemed more on the bright side, even the grumpy medic. They were happy and that was all you’ve ever wanted. However, your stubbornness and pride proved you not to be the easiest person to handle, like now.

“Hey, Optimus? Is there by any chance that you have some water on you? Not that I need it or anything like that. Buuuut... I might need it later.”

The old ‘Bot let out a heavy sigh and the whole truck rumbled along with him. “Didn’t Ratchet tell you earlier in the morning to bring your bottles of water? We’ve said it repeatedly that this would be a long trip-”

“Okay, okay! I get it, I was just asking in case you did have them. No need to go full on mother-mode.” You cut him off mid-sentence before crossing your arms across your chest and slumping into the seat. Moments passed by and your hands dropped down to your stomach and clutched the fabric that was in the way. Okay, you seriously needed to do something about this. You felt nauseous and each second that passed by was torturous. You wanted to tell Optimus about your condition, but c’mon, this was your first mission! You had a feeling that if you were to tell him about this, the team wouldn’t bring you to anymore future missions. And the main course hasn’t even started yet since you were still traveling to the destination. But was this really worth the trouble? I mean, even outside of these missions, you would still be seeing them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, it’s just- I don’t think I’m doing too well. I think I might have the stomach bug or something ‘cause I feel like I’m gonna throw up at any moment.” You half heartedly confessed to him.

At this statement, Optimus had wanted to stop the trip abruptly and check if you were okay. Guess you could say that this was his “mother-mode” or at least close to it. Worried thoughts bubbled into his metal head that he had almost forgotten to respond to you, almost giving you an indication that he was irritated and ignoring you. He would have Ratchet check up on you but then again, he only knew about Cybertronian biology, not human.

“Hang in there, [Y/N]. There’s a gas station approximately three miles from here. We’ll take a rest there and examine you.”

He then went on to accelerate his speed and over the radio, went on to report the other members of the team about your condition. You could hear Bee’s worried buzzing, Ironhide’s sigh, and Ratchet’s grumpy  grumbling of “I told you so” that was directed towards you. In response, you rolled your eyes and laid down across the seats, staring at the truck ceiling. The slight bumpiness on the road was somehow a bit soothing, but it wasn’t enough to put you to sleep. What you needed right now was a distraction. And what distraction was better than you annoying your guardian?

“Oppy.” No response.

“Timus.” No response.

“Hey, Boss Bot!” Finally, you got a response. He let out a surprised sound and you can practically hear the gears in his head turn. 

“What is it?”

“I need you to distract me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You were met with silence once again. He was confused with what you wanted. What did you need to be distracted from? You weren’t really doing much other than trying to refrain yourself from puking on him. It didn’t take long for you to notice that he was confused by your request.

“Just...just ask me questions. They can be stupid or not or whatever. I don’t want to focus too much on my nausea.”

“I understand. Very well then. How are your grades in school?”

You groaned and smacked the palms of your hands onto your face. You wanted to answer any other question BUT that one. Okay, so maybe you were lagging a little behind on your subjects than the rest of your classmates, but you could fix it up with a snap of your fingers! Or, that was what you thought. You’ve been so caught up with your alien friends that you didn’t think that school wasn’t as important as saving civilian lives and all that. 

“[Y/N]?” His deep voice pulled you away from your thoughts and you slid your hands down your face.

“It’s uh, it’s going...decent.” Wow, way to make yourself sound believable.

“[Y/N]...” Now there was a stern and serious tone in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it! I got it all under control. Go ahead and ask another question that’s not related at all to school.”

Once again, he let out another heavy sigh. He had a feeling that your reasoning for your grades being “decent” as you say, was because of him. He didn’t want to be the reasoning for you failing classes. What kind of guardian does that? Yes, he has the most fun spending time on you and picking up on your witty jokes, but he knew that if it ever came down to it, he would have to step back and let you focus on things that would matter in the long run. Even when it does break him.

“You need to take your school more seriously, please. You know what will happen if your parents were to find out about your grades dropping, correct? We won’t be able to see each other as much anymore. And as much as I want to be with you, I won’t hesitate to take a couple of steps back.”

That...hurt. You didn’t want to be constantly reminded of the consequences, but that wasn’t what hurt you. The fact that he said that he wouldn’t hesitate gave you a wake up call. You sat up from your lying position and looked at his radio with a panicked and disbelief look. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. He was serious and you knew that. You looked away in shame and clutched your stomach once more. Optimus then moved his rearview mirror towards your face and saw how you looked. It broke his spark and he wanted to comfort you, but decided not to push further on the subject and change it.

“Is there anything you would like to ask that relates to me?”

You perked up at his question and had a surprised look. Honestly, you didn’t expect that at all and you didn’t even consider asking him questions. If you were to, you had wanted to try to avoid the more sensitive topics that related to the war on his planet and such questions like that.

“Hmm, you know how the Matrix-thingy chooses who the next Prime will be or something like that? Well, what were you like before you became a Prime?”

Like you were, he was caught off-guard by the question. It’s been a long while since he had spoken of his previous life. He felt a faint sense of nostalgia as he reflected on his past self. My, how much he has changed over time. Going from having a simple life to being one of the biggest roles in Cybertron history. If he were not in his vehicle form, he would’ve smiled fondly.

“My previous name was Orion Pax. At certain angles, you could say that I was more like Bumblebee: young and free-spirited. I used to work as a data clerk in Cybertron. My life was quite simple and ordinary before I heard of Megatron and came to a realization that I was not satisfied with what I was doing. That...is all I will tell for now.”

“Aww, what?! Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that! What happened with you and Megatron? Pleaaase!”

“Some other time, tiny girl. Now, it is my turn to ask a question. Do you know what my favorite color is?”

Okay, now you were confused. Why would he go from asking a serious question to suddenly asking about his favorite color. Out of all the things he could’ve asked, he went for that one. Of course, it’s not like you were going to back down from something as simple as that. However, you had to take a moment to think. Did robots have favorite colors? Did they even have time to consider what color was their favorite? You couldn’t figure out what the answer was until suddenly, it hit you!

“Wait a minute, that’s a trick question! You’ve never told me what your favorite color was! You can’t fool me!” You accused as you pointed your finger at his radio. A deep chuckle came from the radio as you guessed right. 

“Clever girl. Well in that case, I might as well tell what my favorite color is. It’s autumn orange. It gives off a warm feeling along with joy whenever I look at it. Just like whenever I look at you. It reminds me of you.”

Your eyes lit up at his words and your cheeks flushed. That...may or may not be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you. Plus, it sounded very genuine. A warm feeling swirled your insides and a sincere smile danced across your lips. Who knew that an alien from outer space could be one of the most caring people (er- robot) you knew.

“Whoa, I definitely wasn’t expecting that answer. I didn’t know you had a sappy side.” You lightly joke. “But, thank you. That was really nice of you to say. And you should show your sappy side more often.”

“Heh, I’ll think about it.”

You then raised a hand to your mouth and let out a yawn. Optimus was able to catch it and moved his rear view mirror towards you once more.

“Am I boring you already?” He asked in a fake yet barely noticeable betrayed voice. There was a hint of amusement sprinkled onto there.

And you snapped out of your sleepy trance and sat up straight, all alerted. “Wha- no no no! It was just a yawn! I’m not-”

Your words were cut off when you heard laughter from him. Yeah sure, you’ve heard him chuckle before, but an actual laugh coming from him was quite rare. You laughed along with him until it died down.

“Alright, little one. Go on and get some rest. I’ll wake you up once we get to the gas station.”

You lied down along the seats on your back and closed your eyes. As your drowsiness was pulling you into slumber, you heard the radio turn on as lofi music played on a soft volume. Now this was most definitely making you sleepy. Soon enough, you were knocked out. Optimus silently hoped that they could stay like this for at least a very long time. With the both of you in peace, traveling in the middle of nowhere while relaxing lofi hip hop was playing in the background. Yet another moment that he gets to cherish for as long as he gets to live.

[rodeo-boots]

Hello! I saw requests are open, so could I ask for Dutch x f!reader where she gets caught staring multiple times at him while he's reading or something so he decides to ask her about it. I would love it if it turns VERY nsfw, but its up to you ☺️💕 thank you if you decide to do this 🤍

I hope this turned out okay, I wanted to do more with this amazing request but I've had a shitty week that killed my enthusiasm entirely. Thank you for the request though! I adored it <3

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1884

Warnings: creampie, pet-names

AO3

–––––––––––––––––––––

You bit your lip for the umpteenth time that day.

It was hard not to, hard to control anything about your facial expression when your eyes wouldn't move on from one place. Or rather, one person.

The mending you've meant to do had been forgotten about for a long time already, your fingers remaining unmoving, while the sock was still held in your hands. And by the second, your grasp was tightening.

Of course you couldn't help it, weren't the one to blame when Dutch casually sat around looking like that.

His red onion suit hugged his torso like a second skin, his pants riding low on his hips, though you couldn't see much of that with how he had crossed his legs. For minutes, you've prayed that he'd part his thighs, your mouth watering at the mere thought of laying eyes on the bulge within his pants.

You just couldn't seem to stop your nasty thoughts, biting down on your lip again, as your eyes took in the man's physique.

Thankfully, he had been busy reading all morning, had taken a shady spot for himself to sit and enjoy the few calm moments he had.

You wished he'd glance up just once, wished he'd see the need and hunger in your eyes and do something about it – Even if that was more than unrealistic.

A sigh left your mouth. Too loud. Too hearty. Dutch's gaze lifted at once, and settled on you without needing a second to think about who may have made that kind of noise.

"Is everything alright?"

You've been caught, swallowing and nodding much too quickly. "Yeah, I– just poked my finger," you lied, holding up your needle as 'proof'.

He raised a skeptical brow, set his book down in his lap. Oh fuck. "Then why have you been staring all of the last half hour?" He had gotten you good, left you short for words now, heat creeping up into your cheeks.

"I... uh–" it wasn't often that you were stuttering and stammering, but now that he had caught you red handed, there seemed nothing left to say. "I wasn't looking at you?" What a pathetic excuse of an excuse.

Dutch considered that, stared at you with a smile slowly shaping upon his lips. Oh, he knew what you've been thinking, that much being clear in his expression.

Leaning forward with his elbows upon his knees, he watched the way your eyes involuntarily followed the movement of his chest-muscles and his bicep, getting his answer without needing to tickle it out of you.

"Why don't you come over here?" He spoke tenderly, knowing that few people at camp would have any complaints if he happened to have a little talk with you. "It seems you do not make progress on your work, anyways."

Where he was right...

You stood, didn't even take a moment to hesitate as you approached him, Dutch stretching a hand out to take yours into his own.

He got to his legs, kissed your knuckles before leading you into his tent. "You know, I like ladies who know what they want." He pulled the flaps shut behind you, your heart beat picking up until you could hear blood rushing within your ears.

"That so?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, not remembering the last time you've been this brave. Considering that you've stared at the gang-leader all morning, however, you figured you had to have more confidence than you've ever expected.

He clicked his tongue, led you towards his cot and motioned for you to sit, before stepping over to his gramophone. "You don't mind some music, do you?" His voice was as low and deep as ever, carrying something within that you didn't know to identify.

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulders.

Dutch placed the needle on the record, adjusted the volume before coming closer and sitting by your side.

"I enjoy how it carries the mind wherever it needs to be," he muttered, speaking fondly while his hand slowly settled upon your thigh. "And the privacy a bit of noise will offer us."

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, breath catching in the back of your throat when he slipped nimble fingers under the hem of your skirts. They felt much warmer than you would've imagined, the sensation of his palms upon your skin making it prickle with goosebumps.

"Dutch..." your voice was barely audible above the music playing within the tent. Something classical, orchestral, familiar just because he only played the same two records.

"What is it, Miss? Have I misread your signals?" He had leaned in, your eyes widening when you found his face right in front of yours.

You shook your head. He had read you right, had interpreted your stares correctly, but you didn't know where this was supposed to go. Didn't know if you should let it go any further.

Even if your mind eagerly screamed "yes".

His lips met yours, your eyes closing at the kiss that cut off your thoughts faster than you would've expected. You gasped, leaned in and parted your lips to allow him to slip his tongue inside.

With a pleased growl, he did just that, the hand upon your thigh continuing to wander and squeeze your flesh, reaching your undergarments only to hesitate.

When you opened your eyes again, he was staring at you, the touch of his fingers on the waistband of your bloomers promising you much more to come.

"Now, my lady, what is it that you want?"

You gathered your confidence once more, briefly licked your lips before reaching for his crotch, and resting your hand upon the tent in his pants.

"You."

Dutch was more intense in the bedroom than he was while holding a weapon. Relief spread within you at the fact that he had turned up the volume of his gramophone somewhere along the way.

He hadn't even undressed you completely, his fingers merely teasing your slit through the fabric of your underwear.

Releasing one soft moan after the other, you rolled your hips into his touches, eager for more, eager to finally get the relief you've waited for all day.

"So wet for me already," he mumbled in appreciation, pulling your undergarments out of the way to finally bare your soaked cunt and dip two of his fingers inside without missing a beat.

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening around his dressed cock, messily working on opening his pants to offer him the very same amount of pleasure.

He grumbled, removed his fingers and wiped them on his own pants, hands moving to help you by pulling the zipper down and getting the onion suit out of the way.

"Seems like you can't wait," he chuckled deeply, watched as your eyes clung to his middle and took in the sight of his cock standing proud and tall, visibly pleased with your reactions.

Reaching for you again, he brought you onto his lap, gathered your skirts in one fist while he let you lean your back against his front.

Soon enough, his lips attached to the nape of your neck, brushing hair aside as he plastered kisses over the sensitive skin, growling as he stroked his cock and ground it against your folds. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice near inaudible over the music, though it sent vibrations through your entire body either way.

"Please..." you took over and held your skirts on your own, heat crawling into your cheeks at the wet sounds Dutch's cock provoked between your legs. Grinding down, and rubbing your nub against the head of his erection, you gasped out, your spine curving as pleasure started to build within you.

But it wasn't enough.

"Please what, princess?"

You whined, hoping the rolling of your hips conveyed your message somehow. "Give it t'me," you mumbled, knowing that he wanted to hear exactly what you wished for. "Dutch, fuck me."

He groaned, finally lined his cock up to your entrance and guided you down, his hands at your hips.

Your head rolled backwards, keening out at the sensation of being filled so pleasantly, at being stretched by Dutch's considerable girth. The feeling of each and every little twitch of his cock sent shivers down your spine, your toes curling at the pleasure of it all.

"That what you wished for?" He asked quietly, grabbing your thighs to hold them up once he had bottomed out, the slight change in angle and position allowing his cock to slip even deeper into your tight heat.

With a hum and a nod of your head, you let him know that yes, this was all you could've ever wished for, feeling breathless and short for words where you sat impaled on his girthy erection.

Dutch moved you more than you moved by yourself, the rolling of his hips initiating that of your own. He ground deep, the head of his cock rubbing into your tight walls and your most sensitive spots.

It felt heavenly, indescribable, the sound of music merely an afterthought in your head. All you could really hear were Dutch's panting breaths, anyhow, the sweet nothings he muttered into your ear as he fucked you slow, but good.

"Just relax and enjoy," he mumbled, kissing along your shoulder, or what he could reach of bare skin.

One of his hands moved upwards, palming and kneading one of your breasts, your nipples standing to attention beneath the fabric of your top.

You moved with him, started to match his rhythm at first before it became harder and harder to keep up the slow pace.

In a need for more, you started to bounce on his cock, punching a surprised sound from his lungs as you moved fast – and rough.

The noises from your lips would be audible far and wide, along with the slapping of skin against skin and Dutch's very own groans. If it weren't for the music, you would've long since been caught, but alas, it kept your actions concealed.

You reached down, rubbed your tingling and swollen clit in quick circles to add to the stimulation, your moans peaking in volume the longer you continued.

Dutch had to get closer to the edge himself, grabbing your waist once again and bucking up into your tight heat, grunting and groaning while your walls fluttered around him.

He brought you down onto his cock time and time again, ringed fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he guided you, fucked you, his breath stuttering the moment you tensed, and came with a hoarse cry.

"God–" your eyes rolled back, lips parting in ecstasy while Dutch kept thrusting into you, pounding you through your orgasm until he reached his own.

He emptied his balls within you, arms hugging you tight while his hips stuttered upwards as he rode out the last of his high.

With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he caught his breath again, planting a kiss to the skin before pulling away.

Your legs wobbled when he slipped out of you and let you sit down by his side, his release already beginning to leak out of your entrance.

[twst-bs]

TWST Vice Dorm Leaders and a Stressed-out MC

I couldn't leave out the Vice Dorm Leaders! I'm just used to working in chunks of seven because of my Obey Me! writing. I'll do a piece for all of the other characters as well!

Note: I wrote most of these to be ambiguous, but Ortho's in meant to be read as platonic. I just wanted to give the little dude some love.

-----

Trey: "Do you not like it?"

They only just barely managed to catch their fork before it clattered against the plate. With everything going through their head at a mile a minute, they had completely forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

“No! I mean, yes, I like it!” they stumbled over their words, pasting a hopefully-convincing grin on their face.

“Really?” Trey fixed them with a knowing look and they felt themselves wither beneath it. “Because you only took one bite before staring off into middle distance.”

“Oh,” their grin turned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, taking a seat on the stool across from them. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Damn it, they had really hoped Trey wouldn’t figure them out. Or at least take more than ten minutes.

The pressure had been mounting lately. Trying to stay on top of impossible classes, watching over Grimm, the ever-looming problem of them not being able to go back to their own world and the moral dilemma of if they even wanted to go back...they had a lot of things on their mind, and they didn’t even know where to start.

This was supposed to be a light-hearted little night in. Trey had found a new recipe he wanted to try out, and they were always willing to be the taste-tester. But, of course, good old anxiety had decided to drop in and ruin the fun, and the cute date night had turned south before it had even really begun.

“Hey, easy,” Trey’s voice cut through the fog that was slowly descending over their brain. “I know that face. Will talking about it help or hurt?”

“...I don’t know,” they mumbled, setting their fork down. “I’m sorry, Trey, I -”

“Nope.” he reached across the kitchen island and gently slipped his hand beneath theirs. They squeezed it back, letting him run his thumb over their knuckles as they tried to fight down the panic that threatened to burst from within. “No apologies are necessary. Take your time.”

“But I ruined our date,” they sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just because I couldn’t get out of my own head for a few hours.”

“Riddle couldn’t get out of his own head for almost two decades, and I’m still friends with him.” Trey chuckled. “Your mental well-being is more important than a silly date night. You can talk to me about anything, any time, anywhere, and I won’t be angry with you, promise.”

“...Can I still have the cake?”

“Yes, you can still have the cake.”

Ruggie: It had been another long night.

Sleepless nights were a pretty common occurrence for the Ramshackle Prefect, unfortunately. Even if they were dead tired at the end of the day, they often tossed and turned the whole night, managing maybe a few hours of sleep at best. Which often led to days like this.

They could barely keep their eyes open, even as they walked to their next class. They were on autopilot, going through their daily motions. The books in their bag felt like they might as well be boulders, and the thought of climbing the stairs made them want to cry. Their legs felt like lead.

“Gotcha!”

They definitely didn’t scream when a pair of lithe arms wrapped around their middle. No way, you have no proof.

“Sheesh, herbivore, you’re loud.” Ruggie snickered, hooking his chin over their shoulder. “You could wake the dead like that. Is that how you wake up the ghosts in your dorm?”

“Ruggie, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Your fault for not payin’ attention!” He gave them a fond squeeze around the middle before letting them go. “I’ve been walkin’ behind you since you left your class. You wouldn’t survive a day in the Savannah, walkin’ around with your head in the clouds like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, instead of stalking me like a creep?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ruggie cackled. However, his snarky grin dropped from his face when he got a good look at them. “Hey, you aren’t lookin’ so good.”

“Didn’t sleep very well,” they shrugged, readjusting the strap on their bag so it wasn’t digging into their shoulder. Ruggie scowled, eyes narrowing.

“Again?”

They stuck their tongue out at him. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

The hyena stared at them for a little bit longer before sighing. “I guess it can’t be helped. Come on.” he grabbed their wrist, tugging them in the opposite direction of their next class.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Back to Ramshackle,” Ruggie said lightly.

“Oh, but you scold Leona when he skips?” they poked him in the side with their free hand, and he squirmed away.

“Leona doesn’t need three afternoon naps,” the hyena sniggered. “You look like you could use a coma.”

Jade: “Thank you again for helping out.”

Their arms felt like jelly. Their legs were about ready to fall off. Their face hurt from having to put on a fake smile for the past few hours.

“No problem!” they said brightly. The fake smile could last a few more minutes. “I guess Floyd can’t give you guys more notice when he decides to skip his shift, huh?”

“No, Floyd does what he wants, when he wants.” Jade chuckled lightly, wiping his hands on the towel draped over his arm. Friday nights at the lounge were always busy, so of course that was when Floyd decided he didn’t want to work. Mostro Lounge didn’t have that many options, so Jade had called and asked them if they would mind helping out.

Honestly, they should have said no. They were tired, they had a lot of homework to do, and they honestly just needed a night to themselves for once. But, the thought of letting someone down triggered a deep and primal fear in them, and before they even really knew what they were doing, they had agreed. And here they were.

“...would you like?”

They had to stop themselves from physically shaking themselves out of their trance. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Jade raised an eyebrow, but politely decided not to comment. “One of the rules at the Lounge is that those who work that day get a free meal after their shift. I asked what you would like.”

“Oh! Um, I’m fine, really, I wouldn’t want to -” their stomach chose that moment to disagree, grumbling loudly in protest of not being fed. How long had it been since lunch? Had they even eaten lunch?

“Both I and your stomach insist, it seems.” Jade pulled out his waiter’s pad. “You’ve earned a meal for your hard work.”

“But -”

“You aren’t troubling anyone.” Jade cut in, seemingly more in tune with their thoughts than they were. “And I wouldn’t have been angry with you if you had turned down my request for help.”

“How did you -”

“Now, what would you like to eat?”

The two of them stood at an impasse for a moment.

“...the tomato basil bisque and grilled cheese sounded good.”

Jamil: “You’re going to chop your fingers off.”

They almost hit the ceiling when Jamil’s hand covered their own. They hadn’t even realized their hands had been shaking until his warm palm steadied theirs.Gently, carefully, he brought the knife down onto the vegetables they were chopping in a nice, clean cut.

“You don’t have to help if you aren’t feeling well.” Jamil took the knife from their hands, setting it down on the cutting board. Kalim had spontaneously announced another one of Scarabia’s famous parties, and of course that left most of the prep work to Jamil. Although Kalim was at least handling the decorations this time. Baby steps.

When they heard the news a few days prior, they had offered to help, and Jamil had practically deflated with relief. Every time Kalim held a party at the dorm, Jamil felt like a zombie for at least the next day and a half. They had personally seen him take a basketball to the face because he had been so tired. Although that might have been Floyd messing with him.

But, of course, when they woke up the day of the party, something had felt off. Nothing in particular had caused them to feel strange, but it could have been a bunch of little things. Regardless of the cause, it was a day best spent alone, dealing with the random anxiety. But, they had made a promise, and even though they wanted to back out, said anxiety also wouldn’t let them for fear of inconveniencing someone even a little bit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” they grinned, shaking their wrist out. “Just spent a bit too long working on Trein’s homework. I’m pretty sure you get better grades if you write long paragraphs.”

“The trick is to make them long and unnecessarily fancy,” Jamil’s lips quirked upwards as he hip-checked them out of the way. “And don’t think you can distract me.”

“Damn it.”

Jamil shook his head. “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“Pot meet kettle, Jamil.”

“I’m serious.” he leveled them with a steely look that had them feeling like a child getting scolded. “Honestly, with all of the stuff you do for everyone, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked yet.”

“...Me too, honestly.”

“See? Give yourself a break every once in a while.”

“Only if you do, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Any-Help.”

His stern look softened until he was smiling fondly at them, warmth in his eyes. “Deal.”

Rook: “Non, non, this is unacceptable.”

They had heard Rook’s footsteps as he approached, which meant he wanted them to notice him. Otherwise he would have been completely silent.

Hand still on the spine of the book they were attempting to ease out of the tightly-packed library shelves, they turned to look at him. “What’s unacceptable?”

“The hunch to your shoulders, mon bijou.” the hunter swept dramatically into the light. “The sallowness of your skin. The shadows beneath your eyes!”

“Rook…”

“You look very tired, my dear.” Rook dropped his usual flamboyant act, approaching them with concern shining in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Just…” after a moment, they turned to him and rapped their knuckles lightly against their head. “A lot going on up here, you know?”

“I do,” Rook nodded. “You have many things to be worrying about, don’t you?.”

He stepped forward, grasping both of their hands in his. They were trembling lightly, since when had that started?

“You know I pride myself in being a protector of all things beautiful,” Rook gave their hands a squeeze. “And seeing your beautiful heart burdened so...it is my duty to ease it’s weight. So please, if there is anything I can do to help, tell me.”

Ortho: “Sorry for bothering you like this, Ortho.”

The little robot-boy smiled. “It’s no problem! I’m glad to help! Something as simple as a body scan is no trouble.”

The two of them were sat in the Ignihyde lounge. It was late enough that most of the dorm members had holed themselves up in their rooms - Ignihyde wasn’t known for its social butterflies, after all. But Ortho had still been up and about when the Ramshackle Prefect came knocking.

The infirmary closed around 5pm, although there was a nurse on-call for emergencies. So when something was wrong with a student, but not necessarily life threatening, they went to NRC’s resident robot. Ortho could scan for most problems in seconds, and more than once the nurses had asked to borrow him.

The little scanner on his chest opened up. The blue light swept over the Prefect’s body for a few seconds before Ortho beeped and the light disappeared.

“Heart rate: 102. No physical cause detected.” he reported. “It looks like you’re a little bit stressed.”

“...Yeah, that tracks.” they sighed. “I guess there’s nothing you can do for general anxiety, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Ortho shrugged, looking sad. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help more.”

“It’s okay!” the Prefect smiled. “You did help! I was worried I was sick or something.”

Ortho still didn’t look satisfied. “But...ah!” he hit his fist against his palm. They could practically see the lightbulb go off in his head. Actually, they were a little surprised Idia had not installed that feature yet. “There is one thing I can do.”

“What’s that?”

The Prefect made a soft “oof” sound as Ortho darted forward and wrapped his arms around them. He was a little cold, being made of metal, but the thought was there.

“Internet research says that sometimes a hug can make people feel better. Does it work? I hope it works.”

They felt like they were going to cry. Or explode. Or both. “Yeah, I think it works.”

Lilia: “You don’t need to look so stressed, you know.”

Lilia laughed when the Ramshackle Prefect jumped, fangs poking out. “You’ve wound yourself so tightly, I wonder if you’ll break.”

To be fair, the Diasomnia lounge could be quite intimidating. It often took first years a few solid months to be comfortable in it. So Lilia wasn’t surprised that the human was ill at ease sitting there as Lilia served the two of them tea.

“That old story about being trapped in the Fae world if you eat their food isn’t true, you know.” Lilia sat down on the couch opposite of them, taking a sip of his tea. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

The human squirmed slightly, and Lilia sighed. “Go on, drink. This is the type of tea I used to give to Malleus when he couldn’t sleep.”

The image of a baby Malleus being soothed by Lilia was so ridiculously cute that it brought a smile to their face. Lilia hummed happily in response.

“There’s the smile I was looking for.” he set his cup down. “Now, what brings you here so late? Nightmares again?”

“...Yeah…” they sighed, the tension in their body falling away like someone had cut the strings of a marionette. “I just wish they would stop so I could sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Lilia asked.

“It’s the same one, it’s always the same one.” they groaned, reaching for the tea cup. It smelled of chamomile and lavender, a perfect sleeping concoction. “I’m being chased, but I can’t tell by what, and every time I turn a corner the thing gets closer, and - and -”

“Hush, don’t work yourself up.” he moved from his spot on the couch to sit next to them. “Take a drink, there’s a good child.”

They took a sip of tea, focusing on the feeling of warmth down their throat as a way to ground themselves to the present. “I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize,” Lilia murmured, reaching up to pet their hair. “Drink your tea, now, and I’ll make sure you get some sleep.”

[treasure-hwa]

as stubborn as you

pairing: seonghwa x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy, a tentative of enemies to lovers

synopsis: it's been a long way since they were kids and best friends. They consider themselves arch-enemies, but are they really?

word count: 4528

author's note: I took TOO LONG to write this one, I know! But it’s here and it’s here on this precious star’s birthday!!! I hope you all enjoy reading this. By the way, yes, I changed the story from “pocky challenge” to “pepero challenge”.

taglist: @winterviolet1 @multidreams-and-desires @ateezinmymind @devil-mp3 @little-precious-baby @hwaddict @trinityhasjams @hwa-luvs because when I did my little survey on what should I write, you voted for Hwa <3 @suni-ho

The doorbell rang and, from the bathroom, you heard your brother yelling for you to get the door. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see that boy's face and try not to punch it. As you opened the door, a body crashed on yours and you didn't even need to see the face to see who it was.

— Wooyoung!

— Babe!

He kissed your cheek and moved away so the other boys could greet you too, but the last one barely looked at you, he seemed displeased to see you there, as if you didn't have the right to be at your own house. It was enough to see him at school, but in your house too?

Who is he, the reader must be asking. He was Park Seonghwa, your arch-enemy. How does one become an arch-enemy? Easy. Park Seonghwa was incredibly annoying and too perfect at everything he did, which was a lot. Class president, student council, volleyball and soccer player and dancer. To top it all, unfortunately, he was your younger brother's best friend and a member of your friend group, so you saw each other too often.

Didn't Yeosang, your brother, know how much you disliked his friend? You both were constantly picking on each other, everything the other said was a reason to eye rolls and scoffs. Quite annoying and immature of you two, the group friend thought, even if they were used by that now.

— Hi, guys, — Yeosang came out of the bathroom, sat on the couch beside Hongjoong and looked at you and his older friend on the door. — Are you two gonna spend the whole afternoon there?

Seonghwa smirked and let out the first teasing of the day:

— I know I’m a very important person, but you don’t need to wait for me to get in and sit to do the same.

You breathed deeply and pushed the door close, almost slamming it.

— Anyways… what are we doing today?

— I brought my new dancing game! — Yunho exclaimed and took the game out of his backpack. — Who wants to play it?

Everybody raised their hands and started asking if they could dance to certain songs, and to your surprise, Seonghwa said the same song you did, and it only fueled him to win over you, because that was one of his favorite songs, he had to be better. Everybody was shocked that you two had at least one thing in common.

— You dance? Since when? I thought your motor coordination was super bad — Seonghwa teased, raising an eyebrow.

— For your information, yes, I do dance and I am very good at it, thank you.

— Up for a challenge?

You two glared at each other, if you were a cartoon, there would be fire on your eyes. Most of the time, your group friend would hate your competitiveness, but it could be fun right now, so they rushed you to get up and Yunho put on the dance game.

It was a girl group song, in which you knew he was amazing at dancing, just as perfect as he was on all the other things he did, but even knowing that, you had to do better, so both put heart and soul on the performance, moving bodies exactly like the figure on the TV was doing.

By the end of the dance, you were panting, sweating and collapsed on the floor. Wooyoung quickly jumped over Seonghwa's body to sit behind you and put your head on his lap, complimenting your dance skills.

— Was it worth it? Did you have fun? — Jongho asked, looking at you, not amused at all.

— Of course… it was. I was… better — Seonghwa spoke between inhaling and exhaling air.

— You weren’t! I was!

— Ha! As if! I am the best.

— Listen here, Park...

— Here we go again. 

— Mom, mom!

— In the backyard!

Seven-year-old you had just arrived from school, your dad went to pick you up, while your mother went to pick your younger brother from his school. You ran to the backyard just to be greeted with a tight hug from a slightly smaller boy, that was not Yeosang, still in his school uniform.

— Noona!

— Wooyoung! — You laughed and hugged your brother’s best friend back. — I’ll play with you and Yeosang in a second, okay?

He nodded and went back to the other boy playing ball. You went to your mother and told her:

— Mom, I need to do a project in a group with two boys.

— Really? And are they your friends?

— No. — You pouted. — I don’t know them well.

— There is no problem, sweetheart, ask them for their phone numbers and I’ll call their parents to invite them over so you can work on the project. Does that sound good?

— Yes, mom, thanks!

Then, you ran towards the two six-year-old boys running, playing a weird kind of two-people tag.

In the same week, your mother called the boys' parents and scheduled a day for them to come to your house. When they arrived, you smiled big and welcomed them, they were Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

After some minutes of talking, you noticed Hongjoong talked more and had a nice colorful backpack, which he proudly showed saying his mom had painted it for him. Excited, you told him he should be the group leader since he looked confident in everything. Seonghwa was quieter, but heard and looked at everything attentively, so he agreed with you. Even if he was older, Hongjoong sounded more suited for the position.

When you were doing the project, colouring and writing, a loud voice and quick footsteps were heard, coming closer to the living room, where the three of you were. The voice owner was Wooyoung, who came to play with Yeosang again, however he changed his path to see you first and didn't like seeing another guy so close to you, looking at what you were writing and speaking quietly to not disturb anyone.

— Noona! Who is he?

— Oh, hi, Woo! They are my friends, Hongjoong — you pointed to the boy across you with the mullet, — and Seonghwa — you pointed to the boy beside you, wearing a red hoodie. — We are doing school stuff.

The boys waved to the younger one.

— I didn't know you had a brother — Seonghwa said.

— I do, but it isn't him, Woo is my brother's best friend. I can introduce you to Yeosang later.

And you did when it was break time. Your mother prepared snacks for the five kids and called all of you to sit at the dinner table, where your friends met your brother and they instantly clicked, though Yeosang was a little shy around strangers.

— Wooyoung! Don’t make a mess — you warned him and cleaned his cheek.

— Sorry~

Seonghwa and Wooyoung weren't the best of the friends right from the start and they still had little fights over the years, but you never understood them. Their friendship definitely grew though.

That was the beginning of the group, when you and Seonghwa were super friends. The others just came along the way.

The restaurant table was large enough for the nine of you, having a booth around its three sides, however Wooyoung insisted on coming closer to you, which didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. You had discussed it before, your feelings hadn't changed since you were little kids, you would always be best friends, you would be his noona and he would be your dongsaeng. The flirt and teasing was just for comedy. He was just a super sweet person who had to give love to who he loved the most, and you accepted his love because it was him.

— Wooyoung, we can't just drown ourselves in this gigantic glass of soda! You are crazy if you think I'm swallowing all this in seconds.

— You are just a coward.

— Hey, that's no way to talk to your noona! — You took the glass out of his hand, then held his face.

— Oh, shut up — he rolled his eyes fondly.

— Make me.

The moment was broken by an annoyed voice:

— Why don’t you two just get a freaking room? We don’t want to see your flirting.

You scoffed and diverted your eyes from Wooyoung, who was now grinning, and placed them on Seonghwa, who was sitting at the extremity of the booth, sipping his soda and looking out of the big window.

— Are you jealous, Seonghwa?

— Huh, you wish!

— Never in a million years. — You threw a saggy french fry on him, and the boy gave you a murderous look, ready to throw it back on you, but everybody stopped you two before things could get violent and you all were banned from the restaurant.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— I just can't stand him!

— Yet, you talk about him every time you get the chance — Yeosang spoke nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on his video-game.

— But I'm complaining about his behavior.

— You just hate that he is better than you in certain things — he mumbled back.

You inhaled deeply, remembering how your scores on that dance game were always close to his, but never better.

— It's not that… he just annoys me.

Yeosang was right, but you would never agree outloud. When you were thirteen, Seonghwa started being the best student of the class, the best boy of the school, the most talented, everybody loved him. You were just there, beside him, even if you were a great student too, nobody really paid attention to you.

It came a time where not even Seonghwa would pay attention to you. He would hang out with his new friends, with Hongjoong, with the group, but only when you weren’t with them. He talked to you just the bare minimum and it hurted that it seemed like the “fame”  he had in school got to his head. Seonghwa wasn’t the same quiet boy you had met when you were seven, so you decided to not be the excited girl you were back then with him.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— But seriously, when will Wooyoung just ask her out? It's getting annoying how he never makes a real move.

Hongjoong paid attention to what his friend was talking even if he was choosing new clothes, but the boy didn't believe what he had just heard.

— What are you even talking about, Seonghwa? You know he doesn't like her like that. They are just super close friends.

— I don't know, something on those two just doesn't smell good.

— Yeah, that's your jealousy, because he is still her friend, but you are not. Now, let's go, I'll try this one.

Jealousy? Pff, please! The boy thought while he followed Hongjoong to the fitting room. Why would he be jealous? Just because you chose Wooyoung over him? It was no big deal, Wooyoung was your friend before he had showed up in your life. Sure it annoyed him when you all were younger that you kept meeting up with Wooyoung, when Wooyoung wasn’t present in the group because he was watching a movie with you, when Wooyoung was always hugging you out of nowhere... he may have distanced himself that time.

But it wasn’t jealousy, he convinced himself. Not now. He had nothing to be jealousy of if he didn’t even like you.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Two weeks later, now at Jongho's house, you had a full studying day. While you, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were in the last year of high school, Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung, San and Mingi were in their second year and Jongho was alone in first year. He saw it as an opportunity to nag his hyungs and noona to help him. Needless to say, no one resisted him that long.

The studying session, however, was messy. Snacks crumbles were all over the place, covering books and the floor, San even dropped his chocolate milk on the table. You had a break time to eat something real, so Jongho and Yunho poured soda on glasses and everybody made their own sandwiches to their own likes. Later, you ate ice cream and had to hear a long discussion about mint choco ice cream between San and Hongjoong. You were about to scream, but Seonghwa took a napkin and pressed it against San’s mouth, saying “shut up! I don’t wanna hear any more words”. It worked.

After the studying was over, it was clean time. While you liked everything clean, you hated cleaning, so of course you didn't volunteer yourself. But, through a rock, paper, scissors game, it was decided that you and Seonghwa would do the dishes and clean the living room while Yeosang, Yunho and Hongjoong went to get real dinner. The others went to lay in the backyard and "breath fresh air since the weather is so nice".

— Do you think it is a good idea to let them together? They hate each other. — Yunho commented while Hongjoong started his old car.

— They really don't — Hongjoong answered. Yeosang agreed.

While that, you and Seonghwa were washing plates and throwing knives at each other. Not literally though. Not yet.

— Why are you so bad at rock, paper, scissors? — He teased. — You hate cleaning, should have done better.

— Me?! You were the one who played late and still lost! What did you even do that?

— Well, because I…

You didn’t let him finish, because your head was almost exploding, so you threw drops of water on his face, which soon expressed pure shock. Quickly, he wetted his hands and did the same to you.

— Are you a child?!

— Are you made of sugar?

So a water war started, leaving you both with humid hair and wet faces. It only ended because you slipped on droplets of water on the floor and he caught you before you could hit your head on the counter behind you. When he pulled you forward, you collided with his chest and was at a loss for words for some seconds.

— Are you alright?

You nodded slowly and got away from him when you heard the boys were coming back inside.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When your birthday came, you were excited and welcomed all the boys and a few girl friends, who couldn't understand why you disliked Seonghwa that much. The boy was perfect and so nice with everyone. You would always roll your eyes with that. Anyways, they all gave you gifts and enjoyed the small party, one of them hoping to see a certain friend of yours. You would play cupid someday. 

Wooyoung entered your house jumping on you as always, kissing your cheek and screaming "happy birthday!". He was a cutie, but, one day, you would lose your hearing. Seonghwa came last and gave you a square shaped gift, not hugging you, just shaking your hand and offering a pause on the rivalry.

— It's your birthday, you should be happy and be better than me at least today.

You smiled, thanked him, but still squeezed his hand until he was saying sorry.

— Come on in, try not to be a pain in the ass. I know sometimes you can’t control it.

— You are it! Ah, nice outfit by the way.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking his gift to your room, you would open all of them later. When you came back to your party, you saw one of your girl friends talking to Seonghwa and… laughing hard? What was wrong with her? He wasn’t even funny.

— Planning his murder again? — Hongjoong bumped his shoulder with yours, following your eyes to Seonghwa.

— What? No! I mean, yes. All the time.

— You can’t fool me, stop lying.

— I’m not lying. He’s here just because he is part of the group.

— You know… he has been talking to me about you.

— Has he? What did he say? — you answered eagerly.

The boy laughed and shook his head.

— I think he doesn’t like how Wooyoung is so close to you.

— Well, it sounds like a him problem — you mumbled. — We are just friends.

While you changed the topic and diverted your attention from the other boy, Seonghwa had excused himself from your friend and went to take a glass of soda. Yeosang followed his friend and asked if he had brought a gift.

— Of course I did. We may be arch-enemies, but it’s her birthday. I know how to be decent.

— And what did you give her? I hope it’s not a bomb.

— It isn’t. — He gave a small smile, but hid it behind his glass.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When you were alone in your room, you opened the gifts you had received. They were all very nice, you loved them all, but Seonghwa’s probably got deeper to your heart. It was simple, nothing fancy, but held memories of when you were little kids.

— Hwa! You came!

— Of course I did! Is Wooyoung here? — He peeked inside your house. — It’s quiet.

— He is not. — You laughed. — Yeosang went to his house, so today is just me and you. And my mom, but me and you! Hongjoong couldn’t come, he had guitar lessons.

The boy nodded and widened his eyes before speaking again:

— My mom made cookies for us. I-I helped her. — He smiled and handed you a pretty pink container with chocolate cookies inside.

— Really?! That’s so cool! Thank you, Hwa.

That day, you sat around the living room center table, ate the delicious cookies that he insisted on not telling you the recipe, with crayons, colored pencils and paper scattered around you while you two drew and painted several things. You ended up drawing the two of you plus Hongjoong, to symbolize the best friends group formed two years ago in school, but, when you exchanged drawings at the end of the day, you noticed he had drawn only you and him eating cookies and hearts and flowers. It was pretty, so you kissed his cheek before he entered his car.

So, yes, when you saw the same pink container with the same special cookies — you have always loved them, but Seonghwa never told you the recipe — and the drawing you had made years ago inside the gift wrapping, your heart might have clenched and your eyes stung with tears. You kind of missed the old times.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Joining the boys that night was an idiot choice. You realized that the moment Mingi suggested playing Truth or Dare. Why did he even suggest that? Everybody agreed excitedly, so it was a dead end, at least it wasn't like they would order you to kiss any of them.

But you were wrong. You were so wrong.

As the bottle spun and stopped at you and Yeosang, you knew he would have no mercy. He asked the question and, for some unknown reason, you answered dare. Maybe you would like to see what he had in mind.

Not good things, you concluded after he said "do the pepero game with Seonghwa". You and the boy choked on your own saliva, looking away for a moment. San took the candy out of its package and offered it to his friend.

— Seonghwa? No way. Step aside, I can do this for you — Wooyoung suggested, winking to you, making you smirk playfully.

— No. I’ll do it — the eldest spoke up, making your eyes widen.

Seonghwa took the chocolate stick from San's hand and placed one of the ends between his perfect teeth. Rolling your eyes, but sweating on the inside, you got closer and refused to touch him in any way, which he approved. You put the pepero in your mouth and when San said “start!”, both your and Seonghwa’s mouths got closer, going forward on the stick.

Nobody thought you two would really do it, they actually expected you to poke each other’s eyes with the candy at the moment Yeosang set the dare. But you loved a challenge, so maybe that was why you two were not stopping.  Seonghwa’s hand went to the side of your neck, thumb placed gently on your jaw, and, surprisingly, you said nothing, just kept getting closer and closer, dangerously close.

— Will they… — Jongho started, but did not finish as an impossible scene was happening in front of his eyes. — They are....

The dark chocolate pepero disappeared inside your mouths as they were glued together, sharing a rather steamy kiss. Your hands were entangled in his gray hair and your mind could only think “his hair is soft, his tongue is soft, his lips too and they are so skillful”.

You kept going until Yunho came back from the bathroom and yelled at surprise. At that moment, your minds seemed to clear from some kind of hypnosis and you pushed each other far. You exclaimed “who wants more soda?” and ran to the kitchen, while Seonghwa rested his back on the couch behind him and wiped his mouth with his shirt.

Yeosang went after his sister and the other six boys glared at Seonghwa with a confused look, demanding an explanation. In the kitchen, you downed glasses of water as if they were vodka shots.

— What are you doing?

— Taking his disgusting taste out of my mouth.

Your brother took your shoulders and turned you to him, looking deep in your eyes.

— Stop lying to yourself — he whisper-yelled to your face. — You like him, it’s okay!

— I don’t! It was just…

From the living room, you heard Mingi shouting:

— I can’t believe you really did the Pepero challenge with her! Isn't her your rival or something like that?

— Yes, of course. And? — Seonghwa answered, trying to sound nonchalant while fixing the strands you messed.

— Dude, you just kissed her instead of stopping eating the candy. You’re not rivals. — Yunho slapped his shoulder, as if he was comforting the friend.

— We are! I didn’t even like their kiss that much.

You couldn’t contain yourself, so you shouted back for him to listen:

— Oh, yes, Park Seonghwa, sure you didn’t like my kiss, but maybe you should tell that to your tongue. That was disgusting!

An ovation was heard from the boys and Seonghwa stomped to the kitchen, meeting you in the middle of the way.

— Disgusting, you say now, but your tongue sure didn’t mind when it joined mine. And your hands! They… They were all over my hair! — His fingers pushed his hair back and, once again, you thought how soft it was. — Stop staring!

After shaking your head, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes were restless, searching a safe spot to look at.

— But you held my neck first! You’re not any better.

— Do you two want a little… private time to discuss your feelings? — Yeosang tried, holding a laugh in, because, yes, it was very funny how you and Seonghwa tried to deny your feelings, when he knew this mutual hate was nothing more than masked desire bullshit.

— No! — both shouted together.

Before you run up the stairs to your bedroom, you stuttered and attacked:

— Your… your breath stink!

His eyes widened and of course he could not let you have the last word, let alone those words, so, yes, he followed you, shouting “it doesn’t!”. Your brother laughed at the way the boy’s cheeks were even redder and went back to the living room, offering to watch a movie to his other friends.

Seonghwa arrived at your room before you could close the door and held it with his foot.

— Go away, freak.

— No! Take it back.

— Take what back, Seonghwa? — you sighed, getting tired from the situation.

— My breath doesn’t stink. Take that back.

— I’ll need to check again.

All your movements ceased when you realized what you had said. The boy was still processing if he heard correctly. You left your spot by the door and threw yourself on the bed.

— Did you really say what I think you did?

— Depends. — Your voice came out muffled by the pillow. — What do you think you heard?

As the mattress dipped with additional weight, you shut your eyes, not wanting to look at him. You had basically confessed, right? Slowly, you sat up and kept your stare at your fingers, playing with them if they were the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

— I’m so-

— What are you waiting for then? Kiss me again and check it.

Your eyes widened and you turned your whole body to him. Seonghwa didn’t want to waste any more time, so he cupped a side of your face and leaned in to get your lips with his. The boy’s mouth was moving with yours slowly, tasting it the best he could and his breath definitely didn’t stink.

Going past the shock, your hands went up to his hair once again, caressing his nape and slightly pulling him closer to you, because it was the best kiss you have ever had — among three: your first one, the one that happened earlier that night and the present one —, but still wasn’t enough. Seonghwa’s kisses had plenty of the feelings that your first kiss with your pre-adolescence crush lacked, and you were already addicted. Call it whatever, but you secretly hoped he would kiss you forever.

This desire, however, couldn’t be fulfilled, because air was a thing and apparently you had to get it, but the kiss sure left you feeling on cloud nine.

— So… — he said low, his breath fanning over your wet lips. — Does my breath stink?

— Yeah… no. You’re free of this.

You opened your eyes slowly only to be met with a pair of big, round, shining eyes. The shining eyes you would always notice when you were kids.

— Hey, uhm… I know we are arch-enemies, but… — The boy scratched his neck, looking away from you. — What if we were arch-enemies with benefits?

You wanted to laugh and tease him, but the offer was interesting, so you asked more information about the concept.

— Like… we can hug, kiss, talk, maybe hang out together, but we still tease and compete with each other?

Reader must now be laughing at how silly the boy was, but he looked 100% serious and you gave it a thought before agreeing.

— If I get to kiss and tease you, it’s okay for me.

He chuckled and pulled you to another kiss, that didn’t last because you two were giggling and smiling too much.

— Can we hang out together soon? Just the two of us, I mean. — He caressed your cheek, noticing how it was warm.

— Like a date?

He stumbled on his own words, but nodded.

— Like a date.

— You are so whipped for me, Seonghwa.

— Shut up!

[weelittleweasley]

growing pains (d.m.)

prompt as requested by anon: after the war and settling down with draco, the time comes for your children to attend hogwarts.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! reader

warnings: recollection of pregnancy, recollection of the war, crying, lots of cute fluff though :)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: i cried writing this. have fun.

Never did you think that you would have a normal life with Draco after everything that happened. The war took so much life away from you both; it showed you how truly ugly and vile the world could be. Especially Draco.

After the war, Draco refused to allow himself and his future family live in a world that was so cruel and unforgiving. Draco wanted to undo all of the wrongdoings he had done and work harder for a better future for himself, for you, and your family; it’s what you deserved, he told you. Draco wanted to give you the world and he would rest at nothing to do so.

Draco left his past behind him and moved from Malfoy Manor to settle somewhere new. A new start, a new life. You two were married immediately after the dust had settled from the war. The ceremony was very private just the two of you, professing your undying love for each other, Draco promising profusely that he would do anything and everything to keep you happy.

Life, for the first time, felt ordinary. And you thanked Godric for that. The two of you worked your jobs, supported yourselves, and were happy. And that’s all you could really ask for. You had everything you needed, a job, a roof over your head, and Draco by your side.

Although life was ordinary for the first time in years, Draco would do special things for you here and there to show you just how much he loved you and adore having you as his wife. During work, he’d send you three dozen roses to your desk, earning you strange glances as you just sat there, smiling like a school girl. Or when he knew you had an awfully long day, he’d draw you a bath and pour you a glass of wine and let you be for a few hours, letting you decompress. Or it could be something as simple as leaving you a love note on your pillow when he woke up before you. Draco was so thoughtful when it came to taking the time to appreciate all that he had. He had taken it for granted so many times in the past and with the war, it was all threatened. Draco learned quickly that he needed to recognize his blessings and take a moment each day to really show you how much he cared.

This was more than enough for you, just you and Draco living your lives together, relishing in this new life you created together. 

But soon enough, Draco started casually tossing around the idea of having children. You had been married for a year when it he started toying with the idea of having your own kids. You were in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from that night’s dinner, Draco wiping down the table.

“(Y/N)?” he spoke from the dining room.

“Yes, my love?” you called back.

Draco walked into the kitchen, leaning on the door frame his arms folded across his chest. “Do you think we should move?” he asked, searching your face for a reaction.

Your eyes furrowed. You had been living in this house for a little over a year and you loved it. It was a symbol of your freedom away from the mess of your pasts and your renewed love and dedication to each other. Why would Draco want to leave this place you so fondly called home? You spoke your thoughts that swirled around your head, “Move? Why would we move?”

He peeled himself off the door frame and took a few steps towards you as you shut off the water and turned towards him to give him your full attention. “I think we’ve out grown this home,” he speaks. “Think about it. With my new business starting and with your promotions at work, we’ll both need a home our own offices. Not to mention, we’ll need a nursery soon and that means we’d have to covert the guest room into one, but where would your parents stay when they visit us. Besides, I want to move somewhere were my commute is shorter to work,” Draco shurgs, dancing around the fact that he just mentioned having a nursery in your home.

You stop him in his tracks, “Hold on there, lover boy,” you tease him with the nickname you’d given him back in your sixth year at Hogwarts. He smiles at the name, lightly laughing. “A nursery? Why would we need one of those?”

Draco inhales a deep breath and takes a step closer to you, placing a hand on your hip, pulling you close to him. “I love you, (Y/N). I always have. You are and will always be the most important thing to me,” he tells you as you smile, him kissing the tip of your nose. “I want to start a family together. We have more than enough money to move into a bigger house,” he refers to his hearty inheritance along with the money he’s made from his booming company, “we are both mature and ready, and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t want a little Malfoy running around,” he teases.

You hated to admit when Draco was right. He saw the way you watched children play in the park around the corner from your home. How children giggled and played, their small feet running around, tiny voices speaking childish phrases, getting excited over new discoveries. Having a child with Draco would be a blessing. But you didn’t know if you were ready to be a mother yet. It was a large step, and one you wanted to take, it was just a matter of if you were ready for it.

Sighing, you brush your fingers through Draco’s blonde hair, a familiar feeling to the both of you. Draco lets his eyes flutter closed as he hums as you do so. “You’re right, Dray,” you admit as he smiles widely. A child. For the both of you. “But,” you interrupt, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother just yet. I’m doing so well in my job and I love working. I’m not ready to give it up. This is only the beginning for me. And it’s not fair to ask you to leave your job to raise a child.”

Draco lets out a breathy laugh as he cups your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb as you lean into his touch. “I’m not asking you to drop everything for our child, sunshine,” he tells you. “Besides, we can always take leave from our jobs temporarily on maternity and paternity leave. When you’re ready, you go back. I run my own company, darling. My own. I call the shots. If I need to work from home to raise the child we created, so be it. I’ll enjoy every moment.”

Your heart flutters as Draco speaks. He really was perfect.

And in nine months time, you had created the most perfect thing you could have ever imagined. Celeste Frances Malfoy. Celeste...your star. A gift from the heavens. Your family was as complete as the sky; Draco, the moon, you, the sun, Celeste, your star.

Watching Celeste grow up was like watching a movie unfold before your eyes. Your beautiful baby girl held the universe in her eyes. And boy, oh boy, was she her father’s child. Identical grey eyes and silver hair, but she had your smile and laugh that made Draco’s heart swell with so much love. She had Draco’s love of mischief and often found herself in sticky situations.

Once you had found Celeste sitting quite literally in the toilet, red lipstick from your make up bag smeared across her face and chest, along with the toilet brush. You gasped as you found her and stared in shock. “Cel, what did you do?” you laughed.

She simply smiled, that mischievous smile at the age of two, and spoke, “It’s my wand! Just like mummy and daddy!” She waved the toilet brush around, making small mouth sounds that replicated those of magic and your wand. 

You laughed at the antics of your toddler. Instead of getting her out of the toilet bowl, you called out for your husband and called that he get the camera. This would be a memory you would love to keep. 

Draco ran in and saw his baby girl in this predicament and burst out laughing. “What mess did you get into, my star!” he laughed as Celeste giggled along with him. “Merlin, I need to tell your Uncle Blaise about this!” he wiped his eyes from laugher. 

The years past and Celeste grew and grew before your eyes. The more she grew up, the more she grew into her features. Her long blonde hair grew out and her eyes only grew to look more like Draco’s. But it became evident that your daughter possessed the same ruthless nature as you did. Celeste was bold and clever and wise beyond her years. She really was a perfect blend of you and Draco. 

Knowing that you could make such perfect children, that only encouraged Draco and you to have more children. Draco insisted that he wanted five children, but you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do I look like Molly Weasley?” you laughed as he chuckled to himself. “How about three?” you suggested as Draco rolled his eyes.

“I don’t like odd numbers. What if two are very close and the third one feels left out. I can’t do that to our children,” Draco pleaded as you groaned. “Four? Four and I’ll never ask for anything else!” he begs as you roll your eyes, knowing damn well that him not asking for anything else was the biggest lie. “Okay, maybe not that, but four! Four is a great number!”

And in typical Draco fashion, he got what he wanted. Four children. Celeste, your oldest, your leader, your star. Xander, your second, the jokester, the pot-stirrer, but also the empath of the family. Sage, your third, the free spirit, the humble one, Miss Independent. And last, Nicolas, your last, the baby, the soft-spoken one, but incredibly defensive of your family and its honor. Your perfect family. 

Each of your children all bore that same striking Malfoy hair, warning children to know who they were messing with. The girls looked much like their father, same hair and eyes, making your heart swell as you looked into their eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had Draco’s platinum hair, but your eyes and smile. The perfect combination.

Having such a large family meant chaos in the house. Celeste would often squeal about how Xander was bothering her while Xander tried to blame Nicolas for his pranks. Sage would quietly sit and observe before telling you the truth about what happened before going back to coloring. You laughed as Xander yelled at Sage for throwing him under the bus, but she just shrugged. The house never being silent always brought you a comfort that you never thought imaginable. The blabbering mouths of your children, the laughter, the fatherly voice of Draco booming over it all, catching your children’s attention. 

Draco was a phenomenal father. You didn’t think he could love anything as much as he loved you, but you stood corrected. Draco loved you fiercely, but Draco poured his heart and soul into the needs of his children. Each child had a different relationship with Draco but each so beautiful and lovely. Celeste, being the oldest, idolized her father and how he treated you with such love and compassion. Xander insisted he wanted to be just like his father, smart, funny, and successful. “What more do you need?” Xander would shrug as you laughed. Sage loved Draco something wild, she would draw him little pictures that he’d tape to the walls of his office, she slept with his old quidditch jumper as if it were a blanket. The sight was heart warming. And Nicolas was the baby, Draco’s baby. Nicolas was Draco’s shadow, following him room through room, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your children loved each other and that was all thanks to how you raised them.

From a young age, you told your children that family was everything. You needed to protect and love each other because if you didn’t, who else would. From then on, your children were fiercely close and loyal to each other. You remember clear as day when Xander got into a fight on the playground and word got to Celeste. Celeste then gathered the other siblings and walked up to the child and scared the living shit out of the poor kid who thought to lay a finger on Xander Malfoy.

As your children grew up, you and Draco knew very well that a Hogwarts letter would arrive in the mail soon for Celeste as she approached her eleventh birthday. Your children knew of magic and magical abilities; you wanted them to know the powers that they would posses rather than shield them so they grew to fear it. Each child had a different reaction when they found out about magic, but all fears dissipated when you showed them each your wands and old robes. (Of course, Draco revering his time as a quidditch team member, Xander immediately yelling that he would also be a Seeker like his father.)

Soon enough, the eve of Celeste’s eleventh birthday rolled around and like you expected a letter dashed through the front mailbox and landed perfectly on the breakfast table as you sat down to drink your morning coffee. The pale beige envelope was addressed to Miss Celeste Frances Malfoy. A small smile grew on  your lips as you sighed and looked towards your husband. Draco’s eyes laced together in confusion, but soon recognized the slip of paper you had in your hands. The two of you smiled at each other before Draco called out, “Cel! You have an early birthday present!”

Almost immediately footsteps sounded down the staircase before Celeste arrived in the kitchen. “What is it?” the almost eleven year old asked excitedly. You handed her the envelope with a beaming smile as she looked at you quizzically. She tore into the envelope and unfolded it to read the words scribbled onto the parchment. Soon, joy and excitement filled her eyes as she squealed out in excitement. “I’m going to Hogwarts?!” she yelled as you and Draco laughed. 

You engulfed your eldest child in a tight hug as happy tears flooded your vision. She was growing up far too fast for your liking.

----------

The start of school eventually rolled around the corner as Celeste happily pushed all of her luggage through the train stations, veering around different platforms. Draco carried Nicolas in his arms as you held Sage’s hand in yours as Celeste walked ahead with Xander, blabbing about Hogwarts, smiles on both you and Draco’s faces.

Your eldest child was about to embark on the greatest journey of her young adult life and you couldn’t be more excited for her. You had no doubt that Celeste would excel at Hogwarts, taking after both you and Draco. 

“Mum,” Celeste calls from ahead, “What house do you reckon I’ll be sorted into?” she asks.

You smile and look at your husband speaks before you, “I have my guesses, but I don’t want to influence you in any way, my star.”

Cel groans and speaks, “Come on! You reckon I’ll be a Slytherin like you?”

Draco laughs and tells his oldest child, “It doesn’t matter to me or your mother what house you’ll be sorted into. We know whatever house you are in, you’ll make us proud.”

Celeste smiles wide before looking at her surroundings realizing its come to the part she’s heard so much about. You look to Draco who nods as you sigh. Walking to Celeste, you place your hands on her shoulders. “You ready, star shine?” you ask, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Celeste gulps and looks at you, excitement and fear laced in her eyes. “We’re gonna run through together,” you aim the luggage cart at that all too familiar wall. “On the count of three,” you tell her.

Your daughter takes a deep breath in and huffs, “On three.”

“1, 2, 3,” the two of you speak before running directly at the wall, passing through with ease as another world appears before your eyes.

Multiple wizard families bustle through Platform 9 3/4, mothers calling to their children as fathers carry bags here and there. A smile forms on your face as Draco slides his hand in yours. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he laughs as you roll your eyes teasingly.

You grab Celeste’s hand, “Come on, darling. Xander, push the cart for your sister. Sage, hold Daddy’s hand. She’s got a train to catch!” 

Your family starts walking to the platform where the train awaited the loading of multiple new and returning students. Draco loads Celeste’s luggage onto the train with the help of Xander as Nicolas holds onto your leg and sucks on his thumb in wonder at the scene before him.

Turning to Celeste, you see watch her anxiously bite on her lower lip as you did when you were nervous. You place a hand on your daughter’s shoulder. “Cel,” you speak as she turns towards you. “This is going to be the greatest journey ever. Enjoy every minute of it because it goes by in the blink of an eye,” you comfort her as you see tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” you pull her into a hug, tears forming in your eyes. You hold onto your eldest daughter, pressing kisses onto the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you, star shine. You are going to be incredible. I have no doubt about that.”

Draco places a hand on Celeste’s back and rubs gently. “Your mother is right. When is she ever wrong?” he teases as Cel laughs and hugs Draco’s torso tight. “My star...” he gets choked up before breathing in. He squats to her level and speaks, “Have fun. Make friends. And don’t forget to write us.” Cel giggles as Draco smiles widely at his daughter. “My first born...go kick some ass.”

Cel laughs and hugs you and Draco tightly. You wished you could stay in this moment forever. It was so bittersweet. Watching your baby grow up before your own eyes, but doing everything you’ve ever wanted for her. “Okay, my star,” you pull away, letting her know it was time. “Kids, give Cel a hug goodbye.”

You smile, wiping your tears away as Draco wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your kids embrace in a tight group hug, telling each other how much they will love and miss Celeste. “I’ll be home for Christmas! I love you guys and I’ll see you soon!” Celeste waves as she climbs onto the train. 

“Come on, Cel!” a voice calls out that you recognize as Tanner, Pansy Parkinson’s eldest daughter.

She’ll be just fine. 

Celeste looks at you and Draco as you both send her a wink, letting her know she’ll be just fine. And there she goes, disappearing into the train car.

Slowly, you watch the train pull away from the station, waving at it, watching Celeste embark on the journey of her life. You turn to Draco, watching him gently wipe away the tears that escape his eyes. “Where did time go?” you whisper to him. “I remember being on that train.”

Draco smiles and looks at you, “I remember flirting with you on that train. And then you stomped on my foot and told me to piss off. Didn’t expect to be by my side years later with four children, did you?”

You roll your eyes, “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Malfoy?” you laugh. “Alright, my lovelies,” you call to your children. “Reckon we should get some ice cream to celebrate, shouldn’t we?”

Your children all cheer at the prospect of a treat as you scoop Nicolas into your arms, kissing his plump cheeks as he giggles. Sage jumps into Draco’s arms and Xander leads the way out.

With one final look back, you sigh out. This wouldn’t be the last time you did that. You still had three more children. But part of you wished it wouldn’t come as quickly as that just did. “One down, three to go, eh?” you tease Draco who laughs.

“Yeah! I’m next! One more year!” Xander exclaims as Draco tickles his sides.

“Yeah, a whole year! Don’t try and leave us too quickly,” Draco laughs as you join in. 

It was almost surreal. The life you and Draco had built with each other. A life of love and beauty; beautiful and healthy children, successful jobs, a beautiful home to call your own, and all your loved ones safe and sound. You thanked your lucky stars that you had this life and that Draco was so adamant on giving it to you.

Draco looked back at you and noticed how deep in thought you were. As you walked through the train station, Draco took one of your hands in his. “I wouldn’t want to go through any of this with anyone else. I love you,” Draco squeezes your hand.

You smile fondly at your husband, brushing his cheek with your thumb. “I love you. Forever and always, my dear,” you whisper before giving him a sweet kiss in the middle of Platform 9 3/4 just like you had done so many times before.

Times flies when you’re having fun.