#I have a lot of fun when these two interact

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - off the record (part six)

part six ; room 1247

warnings ; none!!

prompt ; in which you’re paired with your insufferably charming ex-academic rival turned coworker to cover a congressional scandal, and suddenly, professional boundaries becomes the only thing holding you two apart.

note ; fun fact i wrote the second scene half-drunk and i actually think it turned out really well so shoutout to sauvy b for always holding it down! i hope you all enjoyed your fun one week break from these two idiots <3 i have returned with my favorite microtrope of all time, and we are FINALLY getting to this new york city trip. this trip is THEE trip. if this were a movie, you would be throwing your damn popcorn at the screen, yelling "HE LOVES YOU, YOU BIG IDIOT." but this is a tumblr fanfic, so nothing of the sort will occur. new york city holds nostalgia for them. memories of their past. some deep shit like that. but realistically it's kinda like when you pass by a place you used to go to a lot as a kid and you're like oh. oh. i remember this feeling. i liked this feeling. let me stop before i spoil my own stupid ass fic! i hope you cutie patooties enjoy (and before anyone asks, those extras are on the way i SWEAR. they are pivotal to the story and will come in due time) and as always, big big love to @httpsincity for being the best beta reader of all time (and if you🫵 are interested in being one too, hit my dm's! no experience required but you must love reading and analyzing every little crumb)

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There’s this rollercoaster called the Cyclone at Luna Park in Coney Island. You rode it for the first time when you were eleven, clutching the safety bar with a stomach full of cotton candy and your heart thudding against the walls of your ribs.

You remember going up, up, up, and then looking out at the view at the top; your dad’s beat-up Honda Civic in the parking lot, food stalls selling funnel cakes and fried oreos, the tide of the ocean receding. 

You don’t really remember the down, down, down part. Your brain apparently decided that the sheer terror of hurtling towards earth at sixty miles per hour wasn't worth remembering. All that stuck was the high of being on top of the world for more than three seconds. 

That’s exactly what it feels like when Jenna texts you bright and early Thursday morning. “Morning, [Y/N]! This trip is important. Very senior correspondent vibes. Enjoy New York - promotion update when you get back!!”

The exclamation points feel like confetti, like when someone texts you ‘congrats!’ and your phone immediately showers you in unwarranted iMessage effects. 

Senior correspondent vibes. 

You stare at the screen, grinning like an idiot, as reality comes knocking in the form of another notification. Your Uber driver, asking where the hell you are because you’ve been standing on your sidewalk for the past three minutes, clutching your phone to your chest gleefully. 

I have a lot to be thankful for, you remind yourself as you get your legs working and head towards the red Sedan. For starters, Mark’s itinerary arrived yesterday and either Monroe's team is absolutely loaded (likely) or they’re dead set on treating you like royalty, because you’re staying at the Hilton in Times Square. You’re talking about the actual Hilton, with real room service and those little bottles of shampoo you’ll be stealing, not some sad little motel in Queens. 

You also dragged Emma out for drinks last night and made her relive every painful second of Friday night’s events. She spent most of the time doing impersonations of Paul trying to be suave, and you laughed so hard you snorted vodka, which only made her do it again. 

And because the universe decidedly doesn’t hate you after all, you’ve barely interacted with Jungkook this week. From what you heard through the grapevine, Fox has him chasing down some diplomatic crisis in Paris, so he’s been buried under deadlines and time zones. 

Zero opportunities for you to think about his smell, his cheek scar, those ballpoint pens he seems to like so much, or his absolutely criminal way of complimenting women.

Everything is blissfully back on track. 

Or, well, it would be. If your Uber was dropping you off at some solo spa retreat instead of Union Station, where you’re about to break your beautiful Jungkook-free streak.

The sudden urge to find a spoon and scoop your eyeballs out like ice cream creeps up on you. 

Pulling out your phone, you fire back a quick response to Jenna: “Thanks, Jenna! I’ll make CNN proud this weekend.”

A little strategic ass-kissing never hurt anyone’s promotion chances. 

Once the Uber finally pulls up to the station, you wrestle your overpacked bag out of the backseat (why did you bring three different blazers for a weekend trip?), tip the driver in cash because you’ve never been convinced those app tips aren’t disappearing into some void, and trudge toward the Greyhound bus. 

From the outside, the bus seems mercifully empty. Monroe’s team booked you on an early morning bus to give you time to check into the hotel and mentally prepare for her press conference. The bus driver — an older man who tips his baseball cap at you — settles your nerves a little. You clamber onto the vehicle with little to no grace. 

Window seat, window seat, window se…

You practically catapult your body toward the back of the bus, snatching up the last available window spot. Turns out half of America decided to head to New York at 5 AM on a Thursday. 

Perfect. You plop your bag on the seat next to you like an animal marking its territory and jam your AirPods in. Spotify on immediate shuffle. There will be no stragglers, no chatty commuters taking that seat. 

This is your time to stare dramatically at the passing trees and pretend you’re in an indie film. 

This press conference is kind of a big deal, you’ve figured out that much. Half your week was spent with Jenna, brainstorming questions and predicting angles that Delgado and his team might spin. 

You’re planning to stay unbiased, obviously. Journalistic integrity and all that. But… you’ve also started to like Monroe a little bit. 

On Wednesday, when you sent her a draft paragraph for approval, she emailed back “Looks good :)” instead of “Fine.” The smiley face is a victory. 

You’ve also reached this simple scientific conclusion after spending time with her: men are at the root of all evil. Men put you into scandals. Men plaster your face on the cover of the New York Times. Men are just—

Your current song gets cut short. Left AirPod violently ripped out of your ear. What the fuck? 

Your head whips in the direction of the thief, ready to commit murder, and find yourself staring at Jungkook. He’s standing in the aisle wearing a Columbia sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, hair disheveled, holding your white airpod between his fingers like some audio pirate. 

“I said your name like, forty times. Is this seat taken?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching your earbud back. “It’s taken by my bag.”

To emphasize your point, you pat your bag possessively and give him your most sinister smile. He grins back and starts sliding his backpack off his shoulder.  “Jeon, don’t even think about it—”

“[Y/N].” He gestures at the packed bus around you. When you take a quick inventory, you don’t think there’s a single seat open. “This whole bus is packed. There’s not a single seat left. What am I supposed to do, sit on the floor?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh my god, can you?”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I am literally not moving my bag for you.”

“Well,” he starts, and before you can stop him, he’s moving your bag to the floor and sliding into the seat beside you like he owns the place. “I just moved it for you.”

You audibly gasp. “Go ask someone to switch with you. Right now.” 

“Oh, what?” He has the nerve to look amused. “Now we can’t sit next to each other?”  

“Correct. We cannot.” You cross your arms over your chest and pout. 

“You seemed to like it just fine last—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll hire an Etsy witch to curse your bloodline,” you interrupt, because clearly you liked a lot of questionable things last week. You also thought Red Bull tasted better than your usual Celsius, so maybe you were having some kind of out-of-body experience. Maybe you got Freaky Friday-ed.

“All I’m saying is we got along pretty well last week.” He shrugs casually. 

You’ve been actively trying not to think about that, thank you very much.  After extensive self-reflection (and a mild spiral), you’ve determined that your weird little dance-and-compliment session with Jungkook can be blamed entirely on three things: wine, lemon drop shots, and vodka sodas. It was a perfectly normal human reaction to alcohol poisoning. 

The bus rumbles to life beneath you, and your left eye starts twitching. You’re trapped. This death trap on wheels is hauling you to New York whether you like your seatmate or not.

“Last week was a fluke.” You stare out the window, fidgeting with your rescued AirPod.

“Didn’t I tell you I like it when you’re nice to me?” he teases. 

“I break out in hives if I do it for too long.” In fact, you’re breaking into them right now. 

“Well, I like it.” You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling cheek-to-cheek.

“I could give a rat’s ass about what you like,” you remind him. 

“Mhm,” he hums, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself. He leans down and pulls his laptop out of his backpack. Finally, you think to yourself. He’ll leave you alone to brood in peace. 

You’re halfway to putting your AirPod back in when he goes, “So what are you planning on asking at the press conference?” 

You turn to glare at him. His eyes are particularly brown this morning, all lit up by the sunshine bleeding through the window, and they’re twinkling with mischief. “Oh, so you can steal my questions? Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got my own questions to ask.”

“Puh-lease.” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “And you think they’ll be better than mine?”

“I never said that.” He opens his laptop and starts typing in his password, and you immediately look away because you are not some kind of creep who memorizes people’s credentials. Even though your peripheral vision definitely caught what looked like numbers and maybe the word ’banana’? “I know yours will be good.”

“Compliment session expired, buddy. You’re not getting one back.”

“Not expecting one.” The laptop screen illuminates his face as he logs in. “I just think we should be working on this as a team. Technically, we’re on Monroe’s side.”

That, and you’re rooting for whatever gets you promoted. 

“We’re not supposed to be on anyone’s side, Jungkook,” you sigh, because evidently you now need to explain basic journalism ethics. Did this dude actually graduate in your class at Columbia?

“I know that, dweeb.” He rolls his eyes. “But I feel kinda bad for her. Delgado seems like a dick.”

“How so?” You don’t necessarily disagree, but you’re curious where he’s going with this. 

“I mean, he basically threw her under the bus, right?” His fingers hover over the keyboard. “If he actually liked her, he would’ve backed her in this whole scandal. Now he’s addicted to bringing her down during every press conference.”

You snort. “Welcome to men in politics. Population: disappointing.”

“Not all men.” 

You have to physically bite your tongue to keep from cackling. “Oh, right. Because you're a saint. A shining beacon of male virtue. All hail Jungkook, our feminist king."

"I'm just saying—"

"What, that you'd handle it differently?" You turn in your seat to face him fully, because this should be entertaining. "Please, enlighten me. How would saint Jungkook navigate a political sex scandal?"

“For starters, I wouldn’t be in one.” He opens Google Docs and starts scrolling through his documents. There’s one titled ‘DELGADO IS A TOOL: AN ANALYSIS.’ “I wouldn’t put someone I actually cared about through that kind of mess.”

“That’s… actually sweet.” You pause, squirming in your seat at what you’re about to admit. “Disgusting, but sweet.”

“It’s the truth.” He glances back at you. “So, yeah, excuse me for wanting her to win this thing.” 

“No, I.. I guess I get it. She does seem pretty beaten down by all this,” you agree. 

She reminds you of yourself, honestly. The whole putting-on-a-brave-face thing, hiding behind whatever armor you can find because it's easier than admitting you completely misread someone. That you trusted the wrong person. Monroe doesn't deserve to be dragged through the mud like this. No woman does.

“Hand me my laptop.”

God, your moral compass is a real pain in the ass sometimes.

“What, why?” Jungkook scoots away from you. “Are you gonna whack me with it?” 

“No, you moron.” You point toward your bag.  “I’ll share some of my questions with you. In the name of Monroe, of course.”

“Really?” His mouth does this upward quirk thing that should not be as distracting as it is. He leans down to unzip your bag, rummaging around for your laptop. 

“Don’t get cocky on me,” you warn as he hands it over. For maybe half a heartbeat, his fingers brush against yours as you both hold the laptop. His hands are warmer than you expected, and there’s a tiny callus on his thumb you can feel with your own. 

He looks up at you. Little golden flecks in his eyes appear that you've somehow never noticed before.

You yank your hands back and hug the laptop to your chest before bringing it down to your lap. Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, adjusting his shoulders. Apparently you both are acting like 12-year olds now. 

When you finally boot up your own Google Docs, the difference between your approach and Jungkook’s is staggering. While his document appears to be a mess of bullet points and random thoughts scattered across multiple tabs, yours is an organized masterpiece called "Monroe-Delgado Case File" with color-coded sections, chronological timelines, and cross-referenced evidence. Sometimes it genuinely baffles you that this is the same man you've been calling your archnemesis since freshman year of college. 

“So, here's my strategy.” You pull up your questions document, which is obviously also color-coded. “I’m thinking I'll ease in, maybe ask some questions about her work ethic these past few months. Prove that she’s someone without him, establish her credibility.” 

You scroll down to your yellow-highlighted section. “Then I’ll ask how they got involved. Professional, personal? Who made the first move?”

Jungkook makes a sound of understanding. “And that’s where we let her paint him as the villain.”

“Not quite,” You peer up from your screen. “If I’m too obvious about leading her, they’re gonna know my stance. I want to extract from her the worst parts of him without actually trying, you know? I'll ask something like 'Can you walk us through a typical conversation you'd have about policy?' Let her own answers expose his ass.”

As your eyes tilt up to meet his, you realize Jungkook is staring at you. Your stomach decides to audition for Cirque du Soleil. Obviously that’s just motion sickness from the bus. 

His eyebrows are raised, cherry lips parted. A softness behind his orbs you haven’t seen in all your years of knowing him. 

It’s either complete bewilderment or… no, it’s definitely bewilderment. What else could it be?

You wave a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Jungkook. Thoughts? Concerns?” 

His lips split into a grin, cheeks reddening. “You, [Y/N] [Y/L/N], are a mastermind.”

A horrible flutter floats through your stomach that you want to set on fire. Since when does Jungkook recognizing your intelligence make your insides feel like a butterfly habitat? 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“If someone told me last year that you were gonna voluntarily share state secrets with me on a Greyhound bus, I would've recommended they get a psychiatric evaluation.” He smiles at his own joke, and honestly, fair point. 

“Straight to the looney bin,” you agree, snorting. “Alright, so what about you? What’s your master plan?”

You’re not expecting much, but curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz. 

His eyes dart around the bus like he’s looking for an escape route, lingering on the trees whizzing past the window. He tilts his laptop screen away from you as if he’s a five-year-old hiding a bad report card. “Uhhh..” 

Oh, hell no. 

“Jeon, I swear to god, show me right now. “ You lunge for his laptop, trying to wrestle it towards you, but all those years of whatever sport he was playing in college actually paid off.

“It’s just… not fully fleshed out yet.” His cheeks are still crimson, bottom lip tucked in between his top teeth. 

“And?” 

He lets out a defeated sigh. “My research strategy is pretty much 'throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks.' I've got a note here that just says 'Delgado equals suspicious eyebrows' with no context whatsoever.”

You burst out laughing — like, actually doubled over, embarrassing snort giggles escaping before you can stop them. It’s the most Jungkook thing you’ve ever heard, so exactly what you should have expected. He’s always been like this; flying by the seat of his pants and landing on his feet everytime. You’ll never admit it to yourself fully, but you’re a bit jealous of how effortlessly brilliant he is. Intelligence just flows through him instead of requiring the blood, sweat, and tears you have to muster up. 

You also don’t notice Jungkook going completely still, completely transfixed on you as you laugh. 

“How does anyone over at Fox let you get away with this?” You finally manage between giggles.

“Mm, I’ll have you know my devastating good looks more than make up for my other shortcomings.” Jungkook attempts what might be a wink but looks like he’s having some kind of facial spasm.

That sends you into another round of giggles. “Let’s pump the brakes on that ego, Romeo.” 

“Fine, fine. It’s obviously my big brain that carries me, duh.” He taps his temple twice, a ridiculously large grin on his face. 

"Right, that famous brain of yours." You're still grinning, and without thinking, you reach over and pat his broad shoulder. "The same brain that once showed up to Professor Chen's final with notes written on a coffee shop napkin."

"That napkin had very valuable information on it!"

"It had a grocery list, Jungkook. I literally remember 'buy milk' being highlighted in yellow."

“Okay, and who still got the only A+ in class?” He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly. 

You squint at him. The little fucker. You’d almost managed to forget about the Great A+ Debacle of Professor Chen’s course. You marched right up to Chen after class and demanded to know why your meticulously researched paper only earned an A while Jungkook’s napkin-note got the A+. His response was, and you quote, “Mr. Jeon’s analysis simply wowed me.” 

Wowed. As if Jungkook was some kind of magician instead of a guy who studied for the final on the bus ride to campus. 

"Don't." You hold up a warning finger. "Don't you dare get smug about that."

"Too late." His grin is insufferable. "Already feeling pretty smug."

“I spent three weeks studying. Three whole ass weeks of research. And you probably studied the night before.”

“Two nights before, actually. I’m not a complete animal.”

You want to throw something at him, but all you have is your laptop and that seems counterproductive. “I hate you so much.”

“Do you?"

“I really, really do, Jeon.” 

“No, you just hate that I’m right.” His pearly white teeth are still on display, but a look of uncertainty flashes across his features briefly. “I swear, sometimes I think you believe I took this job just to spite you.”

The accusation hangs in the air. What the hell? Where did that come from? You blink at him, completely thrown by whatever weird turn this conversation just took. 

“I didn’t,” he continues just as you open your mouth to respond, “but it’s okay.”

“So then why did you?” The question is tumbling out of you before you can catch it, and suddenly you know you’re not talking about Professor Chen anymore. “Why did you have to follow me to the one place.. the one thing you knew I wanted more than anything?”

His jaw tightens. “Is it hard to believe that my dreams could’ve been the same as yours? That I also wanted to work in the White House? That despite my family name, I wanted to make something of myself?” 

And when he puts it like that, you sound like the most egotistical, narcissistic bitch of all time. 

“I’m sorr—”

“It’s fine.” His voice suggests it’s very much not fine. 

You study his profile as he stares behind you, past your face, out the window. There’s that scar on his cheek you keep wondering about. He has small silver hoops in both ears, ones that you want to come up with a joke for, but it never actually leaves your tongue. There’s also some perfectly placed mole just under his bottom lip. He has a lot of moles actually, some that you ponder what it’s like to trace as if they were destinations on a map with your finger. 

He is really pretty. You’ll give him that much. 

“So… you took the job to prove you could be more than just some rich kid with connections?”

“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, he meets your eyes. "That, and... because I knew you'd be here. And I guess a small part of me wants to follow you everywhere you go."

You stare blankly at him.  There are approximately 1,586 different thoughts ricocheting around your brain right now, most of which you're mashing so far down they'll probably fossilize before you ever have to deal with them. You have to remind yourself they’re just words, just pretty words he probably read in a book and decided to test-drive on you for shits and giggles.

Because this is Jungkook.  The dude from college who once wore a Hawaiian shirt to your Political Theory class specifically because you'd mentioned in passing that you found them aesthetically offensive, the dude who waited outside your classes just to inform you about whatever A+ he'd gotten that week, the dude who lurks in the hallway for you after every press briefi…

Oh, crap. 

Shit. 

He really has been everywhere, hasn't he? He’s invaded every part of your life. Since freshman year. 

There’s nothing left for you to do but deflect. Start running so fast in the other direction like a chicken with its head cut off. “So, you’re admitting you’re my stalker? Is that on the record?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, [Y/N]. If that’s what you wanna call it. Then yes, I’m your stalker.”

“Great. I’ll personally deliver the restraining order papers to your home.” You close your laptop. It’s painfully obvious that no actual work is happening here. You also don’t think you would be able to work if you tried. Not with him sitting so close to you, spewing confessions like they’re Halloween candy. 

“You’d have to find my address first.” He sticks his tongue out at you humorously. 

“That won’t be hard. I bet you live in one of those high-rises with a doorman named Gerald who knows everyone’s coffee order.”

Back at Columbia, you may have heard whispers. Something about his family having serious money, like a trust fund and summer house in the Hamptons type money. You never paid much attention to campus gossip, but it was hard to ignore. 

“His name is Frank, actually, and he prefers espresso.”

You gape at him. “I was kidding, but of course you actually— never mind. The point is, you’re a terrible stalker because you’re being way too obvious about it.”

“Am I?” 

“Jungkook.” Your tone is so stern he slumps into the seat. “Stop stalking me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?” 

You're trying not to laugh, but honestly, he's such an idiot. "You never even apologized for watching my press pools so you can copy me, you dweeb."

He rolls his eyes. “How will we ever live?”

You clutch your chest dramatically. “We won’t.” 

“In what form would you like your apology, your royal highness?” 

“Oh fuck you, Jeon.” 

“Apology's coming,” he promises. “One of these days.” 

You highly doubt that.

“I won’t hold my breath. I’d like to live to see 30.”

You let your gaze drift back to the window, watching the world blur past in streaks of green and gray. The early morning sun keeps catching on random things — car windshields, road signs, some poor jogger's reflective gear. Your abandoned AirPod sits on your lap, reminding you of all the work you have left to do and definitely aren't going to accomplish with Jungkook sitting there being... whatever this is.

Just as you're considering reopening your laptop and pretending to be productive, your bladder decides to make its presence known. Damnit. You were so comfortable. 

Sighing, you turn toward Jungkook. “Move. I gotta pee.”

“What happened to please like a civilized human being?” He smirks, cocking his head. 

“Please move before I pee on you.”

“Okay, ew.” He shifts his legs approximately two inches, which creates a gap roughly the size of a Pop Tart. "There you go."

“That’s not… you know what, fine.” It’s definitely not enough room but whatever. You stand up, eyeing the bus for the bathroom. The bathroom is located in possibly the worst spot imaginable — right in the middle of everything, next to the emergency exit, like they wanted to make sure everyone could witness your walk of shame.

You begin to step over his legs, halfway through the maneuver (you note his legs are freakishly long and bulky) when the bus hits what must be the Grand Canyon of potholes. Your head smacks the ceiling, your balance goes to hell, and you’re about to face-plant into the aisle before two warm, firm hands plant themselves on your hips, anchoring you. 

Looking down, Jungkook is staring up at you with those expressive brown eyes. You become incredibly aware that your outer thighs are bracketing his and his hands are spanning across your hipbones, and that this is probably the most compromising position you’ve ever found yourself in on public transportation. 

Never mind the fact that his hands fit so well around your hips you want to keep them there forever. 

“Careful, sweetheart.” He knows calling you that is going to piss you off, and the way your face contorts shows him he’s hit the mothership. 

“That restraining order is calling..” you joke, trailing off as you pry his hands from your hips and finally step into the aisle. 

You make your way toward the bathroom, gripping seat backs for balance and trying very hard not to think about the way his hands felt. As you walk, your chronic nosiness gets the better of you, and you start peeking into the seats you pass.

There’s actually… a lot more empty seats than you thought there were. Rows and rows of empty aisle seats, unoccupied. 

Your heart buzzes for a millisecond, reverberates through your entire being as the realization hits you: he lied. 

The bus wasn’t fully packed. He chose to sit next to you.

He wanted to sit next to you. 

You’re supposed to hate him. You need to hate him. But standing here in a swaying Greyhound bus, staring at rows of empty seats, you're starting to think you might be the biggest liar of them all.

So, Monroe’s team wasn’t kidding about the whole ‘all expenses paid’ thing, because this hotel has absolutely no business housing someone who still shops in the clearance section at Target. 

When you finally stumble through the revolving doors after your four-and-a-half-hour journey to hell, you're pretty sure you've accidentally wandered into the lobby from Home Alone. Massive crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, marble floors reflecting off your scuffed up sneakers. Men in three-piece suits roam around the space, attending to guests who probably spend more on room service than you make in a month. 

“Woah.” you breathe out, and your bag slides off your shoulder. You make zero effort to catch it. 

The past four and a half hours might as well have been some kind of fever dream. You accomplished exactly nothing work-wise, spent a good hour critiquing every political op-ed ever written, and then promptly passed out against the window for the remainder of the trip.

Well. Not exactly the window. 

Your head may or may not have migrated onto Jungkook’s shoulder at some point, and he may or may not have just… let it stay there. You woke up groggily to find a small patch of drool on his sweatshirt and his inquisitive chocolate eyes watching you. It was deeply unsettling. 

“Heavy sleeper, eh?” He had said, and you’d jerked upright so fast you nearly put yourself in a neck brace. 

But he also didn’t push you off. 

And that would all be mortifying enough on its own, but then he went and paid for the Uber to the hotel before you could even open the app, waving off your protests with a “Don’t worry about it” that made bile rise up in your throat. 

Too many acts of service in one day from Jungkook Jeon. Your world order is officially in shambles.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or…?” Jungkook's voice breaks through jokingly. He’s already heading towards the check-in desk, his shoulder brushing yours as he passes — which should not make your skin feel like it’s been hit with a small electrical current, but clearly today is just full of things that should not be happening. 

Yes, you think to yourself, watching him walk away. Standing here forever is a viable option, considering the fanciest hotel I've ever stayed in was that sketchy motel outside Hershey Park when I was fifteen and my dad got a Groupon. 

You shake yourself back to reality and follow him, trying not to gawk at the fact that there are fresh flowers arranged on every surface. Jungkook already has his ID out and is giving his information to the desk clerk, a woman who looks like she stepped out of a magazine ad. 

Zoning out a little, you half-listen to their exchange while taking in the absurdity of your surroundings. There's a sitting area with leather chairs, and — oh god —  is that a piano? An actual grand piano just sitting there like it's normal?

“Perfect, Mr. Jeon. You’re all set with room 1247.” The woman’s voice snaps you back to attention. She slides a key card across the counter, an overly excited smile plastered on her face. “The elevators are just past the concierge desk.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, pocketing the card. He turns to you, eyebrows pointing in the direction of the desk. “Your turn.”

Right. Yes. No more ogling. You are an adult. You step forward, fumbling with your ID while trying not to feel intimidated by the woman’s flawless makeup and perfect French manicure. “Checking in. Should be under the name ‘[Y/N] [Y/L/N].”

Her fingernails clack against the keyboard, expression slowly shifting from pleasantness to mind confusion. “I’m sorry, could you repeat your last name?”

You spell it out slowly, watching as her frown deepens as she clicks through whatever fancy system this place probably uses. A habitual swoop of anxiety forms in the pit of your stomach. Of course something would go wrong. Of fucking course you would end up having to sleep in Penn Station or Port Authority Bus Terminal.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, tone genuinely apologetic. “I’m not seeing a reservation under that name for today's check in. Let me check if it was perhaps booked under your organization?”

“CNN,” you supply, and Jungkook glances over at you, concerned. 

More typing. More frowning. Wrinkles scrunch up on her forehead. “Hm. I do see a CNN reservation but it appears to be…” she swallows, looks between you and Jungkook. “Well, this is unusual. It looks like there’s only one room with a king bed booked under the CNN account.”

Your laugh, when it finally claws its way out from the depths of your chest, is unhinged. No. No no no. You've read this exact scenario before in those terrible Harry Styles fanfictions you used to devour at 2 AM during your sophomore year — the ones with titles like "Snowed In with My Enemy" or "One Bed, Two Hearts" — but this cannot be happening to you. This is real life. 

You are a serious journalist with a 401k, not some protagonist in a story written by someone named dreamersparacosm.

“That is literally impossible. I,” you point dramatically to yourself, “work for CNN.”

You switch gears and gesture wildly in Jungkook's direction. “He works for Fox. Fox News. Disgusting, right? We are competitors.”

The woman blinks calmly, like she’s trying to process whether you’re having some kind of breakdown. “I… see. Let me double check the reservation details.”

“Please do.” You’re begging now, hands clasped in desperation. “Because there is no universe in which they booked me a room with him.”

You swivel to face Jungkook, who’s looking suspiciously amused by this whole debacle. “This is hilarious to you, isn’t it?” 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I’m going to murder Mark,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m going to take his calendar and shove it up his—”

“Ma’am?” The clerk interrupts, gulping. Oh dear lord. “I’m afraid the reservation is quite clear. One room, one bed, two guests, booked under Monroe’s team with CNN listed as the primary contact.”

You stare at her. “Monroe’s team? Booked this?”

“It appears so, yes.”

“So,” and now you’re just trying to piece it together yourself, “Mark booked it for us…”

“Together.” Jungkook supplies, grinning as if this is the best thing that has happened to him all week. 

"This is against HR!" you shriek, causing several well-dressed hotel guests to turn and stare. "This is violating every HR policy that has ever been written! There are handbooks about this! Seminars!"

The aforementioned woman starts looking around frantically like she’s getting ready to execute a search warrant for her manager. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how our hotel bookings relates to our HR—”

"Not your HR, my HR! His HR! All the HRs!" You're gesticulating wildly now. "We work for competing networks! What if he sees my notes? What if I talk in my sleep and reveal my next piece?”

“Do you often talk journalism in your sleep?” Jungkook asks, enthralled. 

“That’s not the point!!” You stomp your foot on the marble floor, and it echoes throughout the lobby. 

“Ma’am,” she tries again. She has this look on her face that tells you she’s seen people like you before. Great. You have become the stuck-up guest you’ve always loathed. “I understand your concerns, but unfortunately—”

“Can we call someone? Can we call the State Department?  The FCC? Anyone with authority?” At any moment now, someone is going to start filming you and post it on TikTok for the world to see.

Jungkook is doubled over in hysterics now. “The FCC doesn't regulate hotel stays.”

“They should!” you snap at him. “This is a clear conflict of interest.”

“Oh my god.” You turn back to the woman. It’s pretty apparent she’s documenting every second of this in her brain so she can recap this to the team later in the break room over coffee. "Is there another room available? Any room. I'll take a broom closet. A supply closet. The roof."

“I’m afraid we’re completely booked today and tonight. There’s a medical conference a few blocks away from here.” She bites her lip, eyeing you apprehensively. 

“Wonderful.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “That is just lovely.”

She starts typing rapidly into her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard like she’s defusing a bomb. (Technically, she is. The bomb in question is a girl named [Y/N].) You can practically see her internal thoughts: Please let me find something, anything, to get this crazy woman away from me. 

“The best I can do,” she starts, “is put you on the waiting list for a separate room. If we have any cancellations, I can move you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Your voice cracks like a boy going through puberty. “Tomorrow morning? As in, not today? As in, I’m stuck with him?”

He waves cheerfully behind you, and the clerk bites back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

You whirl around and face Jungkook, who’s vibrating with glee. “This is not happening.”

“It definitely is,” he says, looking like Christmas just came early. 

“I could sleep in the lobby,” you suggest desperately, turning back around. “On one of those fancy leather chairs. I bet they’re comfortable.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid hotel policy doesn’t allow—”

"What about the business center? Do you have a business center? I could just work all night. I don't need sleep. Sleep is for the weak."

Jungkook snorts. "You literally drooled on my shoulder on the bus ride for two hours."

You glare at him from the peripheral of your vision. 

The woman looks between you both, eyes ping-ponging. “So… will you be taking the room?” 

On one hand, this is absolutely mortifying and probably violates several HR policies you didn't even know existed. On the other hand... maybe you could use this to your advantage. Plant some fake evidence of journalistic misconduct. Find all his sources and set them on fire. Steal his laptop and replace all his documents with pictures of cats.

You kind of like your chances.

“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” you sneer, inhaling deeply through your nose. It’s fine. Everything is fine. You’ll march back down at exactly 6 AM tomorrow morning and camp out at this desk until they give you your own room.

She tentatively slides the key card across the counter with visible relief, probably thrilled to be rid of you both. You snatch it up and gather your bag, walking past Jungkook wordlessly toward the elevators. 

His footsteps follow behind you, and you can smell the smug satisfaction radiating off his body. 

“So,” he says, sidling up way too close as you wait for the elevator. “You, me, a whole bed? Who gets which side of the bed?”

You take a step away from him. “I will light myself on fire before I share a bed with you.”

“That seems extreme.”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You step inside and press yourself against the far wall, the frigid metal cooling your warm skin. 

“What about a pillow wall?” he inquires, hitting the button for the twelfth floor. “Super traditional, super safe.”

“What about..” you pretend to be deep in thought, “you sleeping in the bathtub?”

“I’m 5’11. I don’t think I’d fit.”

You bat your lashes at him sarcastically. “Then we’ll chop off your legs.”

A ridiculously joyful grin emerges on his face. “You know, most people would consider this a stroke of luck. Stuck in a fancy hotel with someone really sexy…”

You stare at him in complete disbelief. “Really sexy?”

“C’mon, look at me.” He gestures at his entire being with both hands. 

“I’m looking. I’m not seeing it.”

“Really? Not even a little bit?” He pouts. 

The elevator continues climbing the floors, and you’re beginning to wonder if you’re trapped in the world’s most ridiculous comedy. “Your ego could have its own zip code.”

The elevator dings at the twelfth floor and you launch your body out the doors, speed-walking down the hallway while checking room numbers. 1241, 1243, 1245…

“I have to say,” Jungkook trails behind you like a lost puppy, “your reaction to all this is really entertaining. Very you core.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you murmur, stopping in front of room 1247. The key card is heavy in your hand. 

“I feel like we should make the best of the situation, like most people would. We could order room service together, watch a movie, have a deep conversation about life…” He swings back and forth on the balls of his heels. 

You glance over your shoulder to scowl at him. “Most people don’t have to share a room with their nemesis.”

“Nemesis?” His eyes light up in delight. “That’s sooo much cooler than rival. I’m your nemesis now?”

“You’re my sleep paralysis demon.”

“I’ll take it.” He’s smiling that dumb, pleased-with-himself smile that makes you want to punt him down the hallway like a football. "So are you going to open the door, or are we setting up shop out here? Because this carpet looks expensive but not particularly comfortable."

You slide the key card into the slot forcefully. It’s barely 24 hours in one room. You’ve done worse. “I’m establishing ground rules the second we get in there.” “Ooh, I love rules. I’m good at follo—”

“Please, shut up Jeon.” The lock clicks green and you push open the door, stepping into what is undoubtedly the nicest hotel room you've ever seen in your life. 

The space is huge. Gleaming hardwood floors, a sitting area paired with a couch and coffee table, and a minibar stuffed to the brim with all types of liquor. A flat screen TV is mounted to the wall, bathroom door cracked next to it so that you can catch a glimpse of the bathtub that’s legitimately the size of a small swimming pool. 

But none of that really matters. You step into the room fully, past the threshold and the floor-to-ceiling windows make your jaw fall slack. The curtains are pulled back to reveal a glorious view of Times Square, billboards and screens creating a kaleidoscope of color, even in the morning light. 

And then you see it. 

That stupid singular bed. One large, fluffy, lone bed. 

You both drop your bags at the same time, your own shoulder reddening from the amount of time you carried that massive thing. His bag — to no one’s surprise — is one of those sleek black bags that probably has compartments for everything. Yours is a battered duffel bag that you’ve had since college and is literally held with duct tape in some places.  

“Okay,” you announce, spinning around to face him once you’ve shoved your bag into the corner. “First rule. You stay on your side of the room. I don’t care if there’s a fire, you do not cross the invisible line I’m about to draw down the middle.”

“What invisible line?” He runs his hand through his unruly hair, and you try not to pay attention to the way his sweatshirt rides up a little. 

“The one I’m drawing right now.” You draw an imaginary line with your finger. “From the door to the window. Your side, my side. Like the Berlin Wall.”

He raises his eyebrows. “The Berlin Wall was torn down, you know that, right?”

“I won’t let history repeat itself.”

He flops down on the bed — his side, thank god — and stretches his arms behind his head. You stand there like a deer in headlights, hyperaware of every breath he takes. Suddenly the room can’t be big enough.

“Second rule,” you continue on, “no walking around in your underwear. Or, walking around undressed in any capacity.”

"Aww, and here I was planning to really let loose." His eyes are twinkling with mischief again. "What if I get hot in the middle of the night?"

Your brain comes up with several unhelpful images that you shove down so hard they probably reach your shoes. "Then you suffer in silence like the rest of us."

“What about you? Same rules apply?”

“Obviously.”

“Shame.”  He clucks his tongue, and your cheeks flame hot. 

You check your phone to avoid looking at him any longer and realize it’s already 11 AM. Monroe’s press conference is at 1, so you should probably head over soon to scope out the venue and grab a decent seat. 

“We should get ready.” It’s not lost on you that your voice is higher than normal. “Monroe’s thing starts in two hours. You should probably change into something more… professional.”

He glances down at that stupid Columbia sweatshirt like he’s just now remembering that’s not press conference attire. “Good call.”

Turning toward your duffle bag, you dig around in there for the blazer you packed. Hopefully it’s not too wrinkled from being stuffed between your shoes and your toiletries. “I’ll just grab my stuff and change in the bathroom.”

There’s a soft grunt behind you as he gets up from the bed, followed by the sound of a zipper and rustling fabric. You’re still facing your bag, noting what you’ll need to bring to the conference, when you whip back around to head towards the bathroom. 

You freeze. 

The man is shirtless. Jungkook Jeon is standing in the middle of this ludicrously fancy hotel room, completely shirtless, rifling through his bag as if he didn’t just break rule number two. 

And now you can see the full extent of his tattoo sleeve, intricate black ink winding from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist and fingers in patterns you'd never been able to make out when it was hidden under dress shirts and blazers. There are what look like snakes and words mixed with geometric designs, and — hold the phone — is that a chest tattoo spawning across his pec?

It's not even just the tattoos that are making your brain malfunction. It's the fact that his biceps are absolutely ridiculous — like, absurd in their definition — and all you’re thinking about is how those arms would look wrapped around someone. Around you, possibly. Around your nec—

You have officially lost your sense of self. 

You’ve interviewed senators, covered international summits, and you are not going to be affected by something as frivolous as your archnemesis’ very real, very unfairly defined everything. 

Except you absolutely are. 

“What the fuck?! Don’t get changed in front of me, you dimwit!” You flail your hands wildly in the direction of his shirtless situation. “There’s a bathroom! With a door that closes!”

“Okay, calm down.” He doesn’t bother to look up at you. Just keeps digging through the pile of clothes in his bag.

“You should not be standing there half fucking naked, Jeon. We established rules," you croak, voice barely functional.

He finally looks up, unbothered. "You said no walking around shirtless. I'm not walking. I'm standing perfectly still."

"That's not—that doesn't count as a loophole!"

"Technically, it does."

You spin back around so fast, facing the window where people rush by like ants on a playground, pressing your hands to your burning cheeks. "Put a shirt on!"

"I'm trying to! You're the one who said I needed to look professional."

Okay, breathing techniques. You try to remember what your therapist said. Everything is fine. You're not going to dwell on the fact that he clearly uses cars as weights at the gym, or wonder what those shoulders would feel like under your hands, or have any thoughts whatsoever about the man currently half-naked ten feet away from you.

Oh, no. You are so completely screwed.

Clutching your blouse and blazer in your right hand, you sprint to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. You knew he was buff. You knew he was in shape underneath all those dress shirts he wears. But there's a difference between knowing something and having it burned into your retinas in high definition.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. You know what it is — it’s because you haven’t gotten laid in a while. Your body is just confused by the presence of an attractive male specimen. 

You change into your outfit as quickly as humanly possible. It’s pretty challenging to do since your hands are made of jello now.

When you finally work up the courage to crack open the bathroom door, his sweatshirt is neatly folded on the bed and he's — thank you, universe — wearing a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to hint at those tattoos.

“Better?” He asks, adjusting his cuffs. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Nonchalance is what you’re going for, but you sound undeniably chalant. “Much better.”

“I like your outfit.” 

That catches you off guard. Your eyes meet his, and your stomach flips as you become cognizant of the genuine look on his face. 

Because you guess that’s what you two do now. You compliment each other. 

"Oh. Thanks."

"That color looks good on you."

You glance down at your red blazer. You noted some senator wearing it the other day and practically flew to Aritzia to snag your own. "It's just... red."

“It’s a nice red.” This exchange is more troubling than when he was half-naked. “Brings out your eyes.”

"Are we really doing this now? The compliment thing?"

"I guess we are." He shrugs, grabbing his press badge from his bag. "Is that okay with you?"

"I don't know. It's weird." Like, frightfully weird. 

"Good weird or bad weird?"

You stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is some kind of elaborate joke. "I haven't decided yet."

He nods, and then checks his watch. Must’ve run out of things to fight you on. “We should head down. I want to grab a good spot before all the other vultures descend.”

“Vultures?” You’re grateful for the return to familiar territory. “I prefer ‘information enthusiasts’.”

“Right, because that sounds so much better.” He’s beaming now, and you can feel the weird tension from earlier dissolve into the ceiling fan. “Still sticking to your strategy?”

“Depends on what she gives me to work with.” You grab your notebook from your bag. 

“Smart.” 

“Always.” You study his face, hugging your book to your chest. “What about you? Please tell me you came up with an actual plan while I slept peacefully on your shoulder. You can’t possibly think you’ll get by on charm.”

“Hey.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “That strategy has worked pretty well for me so far.”

"Has it though?" You tilt your head, forming your words slowly in the hopes they’ll sound more daunting. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you've been following my lead for the past few years."

He goes quiet for a second, and you can tell you've hit something. "Is that what you really think? That I've been copying you?"

“Haven’t you?”

Duh, he obviously has. You caught him watching your press briefings, taking literal notes on your questioning style. He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

“I’m just trying to keep up.”

There’s something buried there, in the words. A muted truth you’ve been trying to dodge since the gala, when you were multiple glasses of vodka soda past responsible and he'd said something about always knowing what questions to ask. When your guard was down and you couldn't be trusted to keep your walls up properly. He'd made it clear then, hadn't he? That he'd been studying you, trying to figure out your methods?

“Hm, something like that,” you retort while heading for the door. 

“You think you’re better than me?” 

"Nah," you say, lifting your chin. "Just smarter."

You barely catch his response, but you swear you hear him mutter, "Damn right you are."

And that's enough to send you right back up, up, up — except this time, you're not eleven years old clutching a safety bar at Coney Island. You're twenty-six and terrified, because you know, deep down, you never actually wanted to remember the drop. Possibly avoided it on purpose. 

The real scary part is when you're suspended at the very top, heart thrashing in your chest, when you finally stop looking at the world spread out below and start wondering what it feels like when you fall. 

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @somehowukook @lovingkoalaface @moroe-blog2 @almatiarau @hanamgi @yooniepot @strawberryberrygirl @rossy1080 @libra04 @kenzierj11 @senaqsstuff @dtownbae @xumyboo @bellefaerie @chimchoom @satisfied18 @arcanekookz @vintagemoonsstuff @brokebitch-101 @taolucha @songbyeonkim @oopscoop @mochibites00 @whatevevrerr @lessthantmr @nesha227 @mar-lo-pap @jazzyb22 @lachesismoonmist @indyuhhhhh @sky-23s-world @swimmingweaselzineegs @jiminshi20 @khadeeeeej @withluvjm @anishasingh1233 @jksusawife @btstrology @youphoriajk @jadestonedaeho7 @diamondjeon @sharplycoldpaladin @annafarrr @tteokbokibyjk @prxdajeon @tatzzz-25 @magicalnachocreator @younhakim29 @purplelanterns @134340-kr @amarawayne

[slayerkitty]

The Unofficial TaUs Timeline

(as written to the best of our knowledge by @blu-eyed-demon and myself. Disclaimer: The dates and events are to the best of our recollection and memory. If they are not 100% accurate or in exact chronological order, please forgive us as the bulk of this was written until the wee hours one night on a whim and stuff started to run together.)

When things first started happening, I hadn't been dragged into this, but @blu-eyed-demon is a big BOC fan, so they were paying some attention.

Ta, Us, and 2J start attending events as a trio throughout Summer 2024

August 31st, 2024: BOC announces that Us' contract has expired, 2J's (his KP partner) would be ending Oct 31st, 2024.

Fall 2024, exact date unknown: Copper (Ta's partner from DFF), departs for the UK for school (unofficially splitting their pairing).

Fans start assuming that when 2J's contact ended, he and Us would maybe sign somewhere else as a pair - but practically the second 2J's contract ends, he joined the cast of Lover Merman and immediately started sailing his new ship.

(this is around when I came into the picture, @blu-eyed-demon messaged me and was like, "Ta and Us are doing things, it feels weird, you know more about BL branded pair marketing than I do, is this weird? YES, IT WAS WEIRD.)

Ta and Us' social media started to feature each other a lot at this point (road trips - they went to the Heart Burger restaurant!, photoshoots, and even meals in Us' car at Us' families coffee shop).

ChalarmJames posted a clip of a workshop, where James was lying his head on Chalarm's lap and then the camera pans over and the joke was that he was mocking Us, who had his head in Ta's lap! (still no idea WHY these four were workshopping together)

In another workshop around the same time, TaUs posted IG pics/clip of them drawing on each other's hands and feet (FEET!)

The BOC Halloween party had a drunken revelation about two of the actors confirming they were a couple - two pairs were speculated: PongTong or TaUs (it ended up being PongTong and we all saw how that went, yikes).

During this period there was a noticeable uptick in their skinship, closeness, and even sniff kisses.

More surprising IG stories followed: Ta and Us did a week long training with a real class of recruits at a police academy (STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS FOR EITHER AND IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE).

Love is Like a Bike press conference was announced in early November 2024, Ta and Us are confirmed to be attending the press conference.

The press conference to officially announce the cast was held on November 24th, 2024 and Ta was slated to play one half of a secondary pairing in the show… BUT NOT WITH US. While Us was in the show, Ta was actually paired with another actor named Nanon (I'm going to be so real, I do not remember this guy's name)

(At this point, I told @blu-eyed-demon I had no idea what the fuck TaUs were doing. If they had been paired for the Bike BL, then I would have said "oh, they were soft launching, makes sense". BUT THEY WEREN'T. So my other thought was "well, fuck me, maybe they're dating, idek?")

Heading into December 2024, Toey (Ta's sibling, who just made a movie with Fourth from GMMtv), started attending events with TaUs.

There was an awards show (I can't even begin to remember which one ooops), where the cast of the Bike BL attended. Ta took ONE pic with Nanon and spent the rest of the time with Us and Toey.

(This is the second and last time we saw Ta and Nanon interact publicly, EVER)

BOC's NYE countdown party brought more fun: Ta took one pic with Copper (who was home for the holidays) and spent the entire night with Us, WHO WASN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE THERE, HE CAME AS TA'S +1). They were caught sharing drinks, holding hands, hugging, and at least one sniff kiss.

They did a joint Chinese New Year photoshoot, where Ta was sitting on a throne and Us was perched on the arm next to him (it read very, very couple-y, imo).

Also for Chinese NY, they visited 9 temples together as part of Buddhist practices (accompanied by Toey).

On Valentine's Day 2025, they released a tiktok where they danced together to "How Deep is Your Love"

Us brought Ta a cake at Ta's birthday event in February 2025 (and Ta gave him a special cupcake of his own).

One of the road trips they had taken was filmed for Tong's (former KP castmate) you tube channel and dropped in March 2025. There was a "hickey" discussion back when it was filmed because pics of Ta had some questionable marks. Ta said it was from "playing airsoft." (Sure, Jan)

March 1st, 2025: Ta's contract ended with BOC. Ta, Us, and Toey all confirmed they were under the same management, Bright Venture Artists.

Either in March or April 2025, TaUs did their first joint interview. It was poorly subbed, but we were able to glean that they considered themselves a pair (unclear in what capacity) and they had future upcoming plans. They also promised that they would have a Big Announcement ‘sometime soon’ but couldn’t even give hints.

Other things learned during this interview: since DFF, Us does Ta's make up. He doesn't have a make up artist. Also, they use Guu/Mueng pronouns for themselves/each other (both of which are considered vulgar and offensive unless you are extremely close).

After Songkran, things went quiet. Love is Like a Bike had released schedules for workshopping, costume fitting, script read throughs but according to social media, nothing seemed to be happening. Everything was suddenly very hush-hush for no apparent reason. 

TaUs attended the KP reunion (via Jeff) together

May 14th, 2025: the Bike BL IG makes a huge casting announcement. Nanon was no longer with the show and his character would now be played by Us.

And that is the timeline of how TaUs became a branded pair in the most ass backwards way possible (and the six months of insanity, frustration, and cage rattling that @blu-eyed-demon and myself suffered during that time period.)

Tagging by request: @respectthepetty @babyangelsky @italianpersonwithashippersheart @benkaben @callipigio @lukaherehelp

And if anyone wants to see the tik tok compilation that @blu-eyed-demon put together, it's here: https://youtu.be/H2HftdRaqdg?si=x4Y6ac5mWp0lUu6d

[hartleychristopher]

Okie I have a request for a josh and Chris meeting the reader in highschool for the first time and they became friends through like comic books or like the newest game that came out because they are nerds just for fun

If you don't want to do this it's Okie

Issue #1: First Encounter

Parings: Chris x gn!reader, Josh x gn!reader (either platonic or flirty 😏 you decide) (no prank au)

Warnings: cheesy banter bc it’s fun! Okay? sue me.

Summary: you go to the comic book shop in search of a back issue, what you find are new friends in the shape of two dorks that come as a package deal; Chris and Josh. It seems you’ve been adopted as the third wheel in their bromance whether you like it or not.

A/N: hiii I love this! My two favorite boys 🥹 I hope it’s okay they’re in college in this, I know you requested high school but I prefer to write about them as adults :) (dating a lot of (only) nerds and having a base knowledge on comic books came in handy for this ask!)

You’re halfway through flipping through the back issues, elbow-deep in plastic sleeves and crossovers, when someone bumps into the end of the display with a soft thud.

“Ah, crap—sorry. I didn’t think anyone was back here.”

You look up to find a tall guy with glasses and a beanie, shoulders hunched like he’s startled himself as much as you. He’s wearing a Watchmen hoodie, already slightly pilled at the cuffs. Definitely a regular.

You give him a quick once-over and shrug. “It’s fine. no casualties”

He gives a half-laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool. That’s… good. Uh, I wasn’t, like, creeping or anything, I just—” He gestures vaguely at the boxes. “I’m on a mission.”

“Let me guess: Green Lantern?” You smirk.

His face lights up, almost embarrassingly so. “Rebirth! Yes! You get it”

Before you could respond, another guy steps around the corner—leaner, with that kind of practiced casualness that probably made him popular without trying. He takes one look at the two of you and raises an eyebrow.

“Chris, are you harassing strangers in the wild again?” he asks, smirking. “Can’t take you anywhere” he teases him.

Chris makes a noise that was half protest, half panic. “What?! No! I just bumped the shelf! I wasn’t—th-they were already here!”

“Relax, man, I’m messing with you,” the new guy says, shooting you a quick, easy smile before he sticks out a hand. “Josh. That’s Chris. He’s harmless. Socially clumsy, but harmless.”

You hesitate a second before shaking his hand.

Josh’s eyes wander to your bag when he lets go of your hand. “I like the Moon Knight patch. Taste.”

Chris nods quickly like he was just now noticing. “Oh—yeah, that’s awesome. Moon Knight’s underrated. like, so many people just watched the show and bailed, but if you actually read—sorry, I’m rambling”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you guys do this often? Corner people in the back issues section?”

“Corner?” Josh repeats, mock offended. “No, this is mutual proximity. We’re just friendly.”

Chris looks like he wants to crawl into a long box and close the lid. “we—we’re not trying to be weird. I swear. We just—uh, like comics. And your patch’s cool, that’s all”

You glance between them. Both clearly nerds, but in wildly different flavors. Josh had the confidence of someone who knew he could talk his way into or out of anything. Chris looked like this was the most intense social interaction he’d had all week. Maybe month. But neither of them gave you that creepy gut feeling. Just… harmless dorks. Maybe even kind of funny, in a secondhand embarrassment kind of way.

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You two always come as a set?”

“Unfortunately,” Chris mutters under his breath.

Josh ignored him. “Usually. Trivia nights, midnight releases, occasional accidental arson in the microwave when someone tries to reheat pizza on foil…” Josh gives Chris a pointed look.

“That was one time,” Chris mumbles, visibly dying.

You tilt your head. “There’s trivia?”

Josh perked up. “Yeah—The Kettle Café, Thursday nights. Comics, movies, all the nerdy stuff. We bombed last week because someone forgot the name of Thor’s Second Hammer.”

“It’s called Stormbreaker, and I had brain fog,” Chris shoots back.

You look down at the issue in your hands. You had fully intended to be in and out of this place in under ten minutes. But now you had two dorks standing in front of you; one melting, one grinning—and for some reason, you weren’t quite ready to bolt.

Josh raised his brows. “You should come, we could use someone who actually reads Moon Knight”

you considered. “If it turns out to be just the two of you playing against each other and quoting The Big Bang Theory for two hours, I’m walking out”

Chris looked genuinely disgusted. “We quote Firefly, actually.”

Josh grinned. “So that’s a maybe?”

You sigh, “It’s a ‘give me the address and I’ll think about it’”

Josh pulls a sharpie out of his jacket pocket like he does this sort of thing often. “that’s a victory”

As he scribbles the address on a receipt from his pocket and hands it to you, you catch Chris looking down at his shoes, trying not to smile too obviously.

You tuck the receipt into your bag. “Alright, nerds. Enjoy your Rebirth… don’t burn anything down”

Chris gives an awkward little salute, “No promises”

<3

taglist: @fritzhardt @avwade69 @maiiuelle @avrells @fordthegamelord819 @xoxocher @sweetcalebb @z0mb1epuzzy @dnpo1son

Wanna join my taglist? Click here!

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ��honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #49 | 6.24.25 ๋࣭⭑

bb i did fckn WORK THIS MONTH U LITERALLY DONT EVEN KNOWWWWWW (but now u will)

MONTHLY DEVLOG TIME!!!

And I have been EAGER FOR THIS ONE. When I say I locked THE FUCK in this month..... OUGGHHHHH.... LET ME SHOW YOU!!!

This month, we had the usual progress on Kuna'a's dev edits (slow but steady) and Etza's line edits. But ON TOP of those edits going on in the background w the editing team, I also had time to go through every single route in the EA build and do the final edits on them. Just to give context, this means I edited 200k words this month, AND BOY WAS IT WORTH IT.

This editing journey included A LOT of things, not just little tweaks to wording here and there. It included polishing the prose, really strengthening character voices, adding more personality branches/choices, and A LOT of reworking for different scenes that I was okay with, but not completely happy with, in the beta versions of the individual routes. On top of reworking scenes, a lot of the routes also got some extra tiny scenes to showcase more cast dynamics, AND because I implemented a shiny new communicator system (which I'll talk about later), there's a lot more messaging conversations going on that I think add a lot more fun and character to your interactions with different LIs.

sneak peek of a new chat convo as an example

I'm really, really, really happy with the writing of the routes now. The characters feel stronger, scenes feel more organic and natural, and the pacing feels much more intentional. And overall the routes just feel a lot more fun!! While I don't think the writing was bad, by any means, before, I do think it's a lot stronger and cohesive now!

I was also able to calculate word counts across routes within the game script, using a Lint feature by another dev. It was a lifesaver because Google Docs gave me just an estimate, but by calculating the word counts within Ren'Py, I have a more accurate word count across the routes. Using this, I adjusted different routes so that the word count is much more even and there's no one route that feels significantly longer than another!

If you think I was making cracked progress on writing, ehehehhee.......................... WAIT UNTIL I TELL YOU ABOUT THIS!!!!

First art accomplishment: I finished THREE sprites for the game!!! (so I only have TWO left now!!!!). I'll showcase one here since I've featured them before, actually. A long, long time ago for those who were here during the Kickstarter ages.

everyone, meet KILUM

Kilum was a stretch goal to have their own route. Unfortunately (for you, but fortunately for me LMAOOOO), we didn't meet that stretch goal. You might remember they look a bit different from the original concept art, and that's because I reworked their color palette after finishing the rest of the Dusk Court's characters so that side of the cast looked a little more cohesive. I'm in love with their design (thanks to bestie @/saffein-e as always), and I hope you're excited to meet them in game! They are certainly A Character!

The other two sprites I finished were actually our two queens HEEH. You will not be meeting them, sorry! Guess you'll have to wait for EA to drop \o/ Anyways, I was really nervous about finishing the sprites in time for the EA build since I had 5 sprites to make, and before this month I had only finished 2 sprites in the span of like 4 years aofsdjaiosjdfaiojsdfioajsdf. So I'm really proud of myself for the sprite progress this month (I always hate making sprites)!

sneak peek feat. eyes. my beautiful children....

We also made CG progress. A LOT of CG progress HEHEHE. Before this month, I had only finished about 26 CGs and that was over the course of like 2 years. That being said, that was while balancing coding beta routes, writing routes, editing, and whatever else I had going on. Now, because I'm locked in on art progress, we have.... *drumroll please*....... 38 CGS FINISHED!!! And that is actually ALL of the ones we need to have done for the EA build!!! So this month, on top of sprite and editing progress, I also finished 12 CGs YEEEAAAAAAAAAA.

Finally, I made some headway on other things this month: one of the biggest being a revamp of the communicator.

my children..... stop fighting....

Big thank you to (@/robobarbie and @/windchimesgames) for the messaging system asset HEHE. now in the game, you will be able to have separate chats for each character and group chats!! I'm still ironing out some kinks with the system and figuring out how to best implement it in the game, but for now, here's a sneak peek of what it's looking like!!!

We also have finally reached a point where we can move forward with voice acting in the game!!! I'll be preparing the lines to send out to the VAs over the next couple of days, but it's so exciting to reach this point since VA is usually what i associate with the Final Stages of production.

I've played a couple of games recently but honestly, so much of my time has been dedicated to Alaris that I haven't had time to do anything like fanart. It's been an ALARIS MONTH BABY!!!

CGs and sprites were the biggest things that I was worried about finishing on time, and given the amount of progress I made on them this month, I think we're in really good shape for EA release!!!

All that's really left for me to do with both editing and like 85% of the art assets out of the way are to finish up the last two character sprites, flesh out the sprite expressions and code those in, and VA! After that, it'll be cleaning for bugs and polishing, so I'm extremely ecstatic over EA progress this past month and hope you all are excited to have it in your hands Very Soon! ^^

Until next time, hopefully I'll bring more exciting news then. Stay cool, especially for those getting hit by the heat waves and general summer heat! <3

[sexisbetteronthemoon]

What are their arguments like and who (if either) tends to pick fights more often? Does Lance make Keith sleep on the couch?

they're petty as hell and they fight for fun.

it's Lance who pretends to take offense at the most random things to get the ball rolling bc he's better at improv and Keith is either very awkward when he tries to start a fight, or he accidentally pushes them into a real fight.

it also helps Lance a lot with his little unreasonable neuroticisms. it's like an exercise in which they reassure each other how much they care.

Lance helps Keith distinguish their play fights from real fights by saying, very seriously, “I'm angry at you, Keith.”

that's how Keith knows shit just got real.

Lance knows when Keith is actually mad bc he goes quiet and refuses to look at him.

Keith gets off on how ridiculous Lance is. he enjoys the fight bc he loves challenges, and especially "making up" with Lance. he loves working for "forgiveness" because it's a game to see how fast he can make Lance smile. it's a personal victory when he gets Lance laughing and smacking at him in annoyance for winning.

Keith is aware that sometimes Lance gets a little insecure. and he knows simply telling Lance he loves him won't make it all dandy. so if Lance wants to berate him for seemingly looking at someone else or not immediately kissing him first thing in the morning, he's going to play along.

anything to make Lance happy.

the only times Keith ends up on the couch is when Lance is too annoyed by losing to admit defeat. he tells Keith to sleep on the couch and then shows up two hours later, bodily collapsing upon him to snuggle with him because he missed him. Keith always bursts out laughing when he does this, and sometimes they end up making out. one of them usually ends up on the floor when Kosmo joins them on the couch.

somehow, it's almost always Keith.

when they fight for real, it's nothing like their play fights. there's no tirades, no yelling, not even any screaming.

Lance's voice will lower, and his expression will be dead serious like he's back in the war looking through the scope of his rifle.

on the other hand, Keith will just not interact. his body language changes. he tenses up, especially at the shoulders, and widens his stance, like he's getting ready to receive a physical blow. he withdraws into himself and he avoids talking to Lance. he dodges any attempts and he walks away until Lance finally waits until he's in the bathroom (on the toilet, specifically bc if he's in the shower, he's capable of walking out and leaving a trail of water and soap) and then walks in, closing the door behind him.

“we're talking,” Lance will say firmly while Keith sits on the toilet and sighs heavily bc he forgot to lock the bathroom door again. (this is not the first time and it will not be the last.) he doesn't appreciate being cornered, but it's the only way Keith will actually talk to Lance and not run away.

even when they fight for real, Lance will not kick Keith out of bed. they might still be angry, but they have been thru too much to go to sleep without each other. they might start off facing away from each other, but eventually, they will migrate, either purposely or in sleep, toward the other.

sometimes, it's Keith who shuffles over and wraps an arm around Lance from behind, fingers threading with Lance's.

sometimes, it's Lance who scoots back until their backs are pressed together. and he reaches behind himself to wrap and arm around Keith. it's uncomfortable, and Keith knows this. and he eventually sighs and turns over to wrap an arm around Lance.

they never reject each other. Lance has received too much rejection from Keith to take it well, and Keith still has abandonment issues from the trauma of losing so many people.

sometimes, they both reach out and hold hands from opposite sides of the bed.

they never talk in these moments unless it's to apologize or to whisper, “I still love you. Do you still love me?”

And the other will say, “Of course I do, but sometimes you piss me off. Still, I'd rather you be here to piss me off, than be gone.”

in the mornings tho, the sun's rays will spill through the blinds, and one will wake to see their partner dappled in sunlight. and it's kind of hard to stay mad after that.

they wait until the other wakes, and then they'll talk, quietly and calmly, until it's either solved or they promise to work on the issue more.

[reveriederayne]

𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ?

Remus Lupin x Reader; 1.170 words

A/N: so a lot of the fandom likes to think of Remus as this Casanova of Hogwarts that gets everyone but also deeply hates himself and thinks he can’t have anything good. Good characterisation, not my cup of tea, so here’s how I like to imagine his character. Also as someone who appeared as if I hated people because of my previous introverted nature this was a fun idea to write.

CW: Reader appearing as mean; Remus’s pov (point of view); Reader is friends with Barty; Reader and Barty are in Ravenclaw; let me know if I need to add anything else !

There was one constant emotion on Remus’s mind, through all of his life as far as he could remember, and that was anxiety. How could it not be when he became a werewolf every full moon and thus a danger to everyone around him ? Not only that but he could put himself in danger if anyone were to ever find out about his problem, especially when he became a student there and he had friends for the first time. His anxiety probably doubled with that, tripled when they started getting suspicious of him.

But that was all in the past. That was kid Remus, and he finally grew up, his priorities as well. What was he getting anxious about now ? Is that the only girl he seemed to like appeared to be feeling the exact opposite for him. Remus was not the most sought after guy in his friend group, with his quiet nature and his numerous scar that decorated his face that made people a bit wary of him, but still, people weren’t out right mean to him. Which is why you almost completely ignoring him, and sending him glares, when you two were assigned to do a project along his three other friends made him loose his head, trying to figure out what did he ever do for you to hate him this much.

“I just don’t understand what happened ! Did I do something to her in our previous years and don’t remember ?” He was pacing in his dorm, clutching his head so hard the other three boys were afraid he would rip off his hair.

“Maybe she’s just shy. Don’t beat yourself up mate” Said James reassuringly.

“Shy ! With the glares she was sending me ?!”

James threw a look to Petter, both boys sighing at the sight of their friend. Sirius didn’t even bother paying that much attention, knowing that any attempt of comforting him would be like talking to a very panicked and deaf baby deer, instead comfortably laying in his bed and drawing. “You should talk to Junior then. He knows her like the back of his hand, will probably know what you did to her”

At that Remus stopped, letting his hands fall (surprisingly without his hair) down to his sides to questioningly stare at Sirius “Crouch ? The crazy Ravenclaw guy in our year ?”

“Yeah. Their families are close, unlikely friendship sparked, same house, yada yada… Go talk to him” He waved his wand at the door, opening it successfully. The scared boy took it as a sign that he was meant to investigate now and promptly left the dorm, and as a precaution Sirius closed, lest his friend decided to come back.

Remus had one advantage when it came to his anxiety, and it was that he could easily mask it, or at least he didn’t need to try very hard to subdue it. What guy full of scars and taller than everyone else would appear on the verge of anxiety attack when asking if he could talk to a guy along while pulling the most bitch face man kind has ever known ?

Barty almost look scared if it wasn’t for the gigantic smile adorning his face as he was left with Remus alone in the corridor. He leaned against the wall, getting comfortable for whatever discussion the Gryffindor was gonna put him through.

“Lupin ! What do I owe the displeasure ?”

He stayed quiet for a while, not really knowing how to interact with the boy in front of him. He never talked to him prior, barely saw him due to different friend groups, and weird rumours about him didn’t help gain the confidence for a talk.

“You’re… I heard you’re friends with-“

“Yes yes, we’re friends. What about it ?” he interrupted, letting out a sigh as if talking to him was already exhausting enough.

“What did I do for her to hate me ?” He let out, surprising himself at how quickly he got to the point. Though considering he was talking about his crush that seemed to not stand him, understandable.

He also surprised Barty, who looked at him like he just said complete gibberish and not actual words. He put his hands on the taller boy’s shoulder, bringing him down and effectively bringing him on the same eye level.

“Are you… are you blind Lupin ? Do you need glasses ? Or maybe you need therapy ?”

He did need it, but not for what he just said, he was sure of it. “What ? She clearly hates me. She completely ignored me during our group project”

The raven haired boy slowly blinked, before letting him go, looking at the ground like a concerned mother. “Just… just talk to her. God, you’re insufferable” And then he just walked away, no further explanation, which left Remus even more confused. Why would you ignore him then if you didn’t hate him, even sending weird looks every time he tried to talk to you ?

Well he went to you next for his answers. Which caused even more anxiety. Truly Remus would need a week of doing nothing to prevent grey hairs from growing by the time he’s twenty for the stressful day he was having.

Thankfully he decided to talk to you when you were alone in the library, his sacred little place, that he thought would maybe give him a bit more confidence. It wasn’t the case, but a man could dream. Instead much like Barty he blabbered and then asked not so subtly why you hated him.

“Pardon me ?”

You looked like a lost kitten. Confused and unsure if you should even be here. It made you look cute to him. Though probably not the best thing to think in this situation.

“Just because I don’t pay attention to you and your loud friends doesn’t mean I hate you. You’re not the center of the universe Lupin”

Now it would look like you disliked him to anyone else. But Remus saw how you dicked your head, how your cheeks were taking a darker shade and how nervously you jit your lip.

Tentatively, he ducked his head as well, whispering in your ear. “Can I assume that you… fancy me then ?”

He almost regretted asking that. You were practically stranger, you didn’t show him any signs of liking him, and he was now going to ruin this entire relationship before it even started and then-

“Yeah… I just didn’t know how to process it. People are not my strong suit”

“Oh” Well that changed everything…

“Oh. Well it’s okay. They’re not mine either…” He nervously looked down at you. You didn’t seem anxious or nervous like he was. Just a bit confused. He liked it. He really like it, and you, especially you.

“I know a place where there isn’t much people where we can do… whatever couples do ?

And there was a smile. A cute little smile that made his heart beat a thousand miles with the feeling that it could jump out of his chest.

© reveriederayne; every work posted on this blog is my own. I do not give anyone permission to copy, translate, or repost my works anywhere under any circumstance.

[russeliarat]

Linked Universe Artist Recs

To bide time while I try to figure out some fic recs for LU, have a couple of my favourite Linked Universe artists and go check em out!! I might onto the post later too!

@off-mozzarella

A Linked Universe artist who's sketches always seem so delicate and fully-rendered, no matter how rendered they really are. There's a delicate softness to the artwork that portrays a calmness both in moments of peace and moments that require peace despite hiding storms. The posing is so elegant and easy to understand the actions despite not seeing the actions in motion, and the character interactions they draw give a sense of genuinity and heart. Their Body Swap AU between Legend and Hyrule is an interesting concept and serves to strengthen the bond between the two while forcing them to open up in an entertaining way.

@raycatzdraws

I also follow their main blog which is where I often get to see others art through their reblogs. They do a lot of fanart for other AUs such as the Necromancer AU and the Magical Girl AU. Her artwork manages to keep a softness to it that permeates even in the art for darker AUs through dulled pastel colours, though often her art features a range of bright sunny colours that just irradiates positivity. There have been several times where I, as an older fan of LU dating back to late 2021/early 2022, have squealed in joy from finding them taking inspiration from or drawing AUs of artists I haven't seen in a while. She's also created a very popular Four meme which I consistently use on the daily to my partner. They keep my nostalgia for earlier times of the LU fandom at bay through their artwork.

@veryloudgroan

The artwork veryloudgroan produces feels like oil paintings or chalk art with its texture and vibrancy. The way they manage to weave so many colours into her artwork while keeping it all harmonious is something I honestly want to study. The atmosphere she's able to produce through the art is magnificent and I personally love the art they do of Legend and Linkle, though I love being able to compare the general portraits they do of each of the LU boys. Her lighthearted jokey art is always so silly in the best way possible and sometimes it's animated and/or fully rendered.

@wishyoudwell

Their artwork reminds me a ton of old shoujo manga I read as a kid and it feels so comforting as an adult hyperfixating on something that's not shoujo. Often they'll draw Four and Legend (who I'm personally biased towards as my favourites), and especially the Colours. The outfit design and character interactions very often leave me inspired to draw more and even their more meme-y artwork feels like its got a lot of effort put into it. The colours they choose and their shading is rich and vibrant and suits the drawings perfectly, especially when a lot of their drawings are simple character interactions, lighthearted jokes, and fun doodles. They also like to ramble about Four a lot which, as a Four fan, I am very happy about.

@inumbrapugnabimbus-maybe

A unique artstyle that feels very nostalgic to me, almost akin to the Rainbow Magic fairy books I grew up with as a little girl. There's such a whimsical charm to the art that feels light on its feet with so much colour and charm. Little flourishes in the art give it so much character and have so much thought put behind it. I personally love the weight she manages to put in the clothing and hair while also somehow making the characters seem to float on their feet. Often she'll post colour studies that absolutely enrapture me and I will just sit there looking at all the ways she use colours in her artworks.

@nell0-0

Both a Linked Universe and Legend of Zelda artist. Their linework, expressions, and poses carry so much character and the character interactions they portray are so poignant and well-expressed. Their personal designs also carry so much silent story-telling and have a unique twist that makes them so interesting to look at. Their shape language in the designs are exquisite.

@theegh0st

When they draw the Chain, it feels like they draw it with a love for all the stupid and heartfelt shit they do. They draw the Chain all so differently to each other and it makes them feel alive and like different people. There's such a variety in how they draw them. Their sketches have a loose and free feeling and are very easy to understand the nuances of emotions they're trying to portray. I especially love the portraits they do of the Chain. You should consider getting some of their LU keychains too, they're very beautiful and seem incredibly high quality.

[sharksarewaterdogs]

Huntrix Headcanons!

I don't think we've got canon ages for them so imo Rumi's the oldest (2 mos older than Mira), Mira the 2nd (9 mos older than Zoey), Zoey the youngest. They started demon hunting/pop star training around the age of 14, and debuted at about 16.

The girls had a bit of a rocky relationship at the start. They liked each other, but were very awkward at making connections.

Rumi was basically homeschooled hard by Celine with the express purpose of becoming the best demon hunter and told to hide her demon heritage, so she didn't interact much with other kids. She leaned hard on acting the part of new friend/normal girl/kpop-star-&-hunter-in-training to the point where she tended to be overly superficial and awkward.

Celine had a very specific image in mind for her to grow up into (an idealistic version of her mother), and Rumi was very much a rule-following kid trying to fit the image. She also grew up with a specific idea of what it would be like to be part of a hunter trio, and is very excited to have that kind of close bond and wants it to click right away. She's very much a people pleaser, so, despite generally being an obedient kid for Celine, she is overly ready to take part in any shenanigans the girls suggest as a way to prove herself to them.

Child-of-divorce Zoey was used to having to swap between homes a lot, which inhibited her ability to keep strong friendships. She also was frequently bullied as a kid; she's had a lot of insecurities about expressing herself, so she would vacillate between being hyper-expressive and extroverted and being really shy and quiet, which gave her an unpredictable vibe that initially unsettled the other two.

Zoey was a latch-key kid, given a lot of freedom by her parents. She is very likely to suggest shenanigans for the fun and chaos of them, but, rather than being rebellious on principle, she's used to not having to follow a strict lifestyle and not having large consequences for misbehavior.

Mira was used to being a social outcast and the black sheep of her family, and lost her one best friend shortly before they met (more on this later). She imprinted on the girls like a duckling ("these girls are weirdos but they're MY weirdos"), feeling very protective and fond of them very quickly, but she was also incredibly shy and insecure around people she actually wanted to impress, so she didn't really express this.

Mira and Zoey were initially rather intimidated by Rumi bc she was pop royalty & had training in both hunting & music pretty much from birth.

Zoey and Rumi were initially very intimidated by Mira, given her rebellious and deadpan nature, and the fact that she tended to be very quiet and appeared emotionally reserved (dangerous quiet kid energy).

Mira was (of course) a rebellious kid who liked to stick it to authority figures on principle, but Zoey and Rumi being so easily persuaded into mischief put her in the awkward position of being The Responsible One more often than she liked.

Celine was almost always the one to do Rumi's hair and makeup, so Rumi wasn't actually experienced at doing them for herself. Mira helped her with learning to do different hairstyles on herself (tho she usually sticks to her signature braid), while Zoey taught her makeup. She, in turn, helped give them pointers on fighting.

Mira & Zoey also took her shopping for the first time for clothes that she got to pick out in her own style.

Mira had one close friend as a kid who she lost to demons, which is part of why she became so quickly very protective of the other girls, and fueled an intense bitterness towards demons.

Zoey was on the run from home after a fight with her parents when she met Celine and joined Huntrix (Celine got her parents' permission).

A demon who knew Rumi's dad stumbled on her when she was little (like 4 or something) & recognized him in her. They tried to lure her away before Celine killed them. That's when Celine first revealed the full truth of Rumi's marks and what she had to hide.

[fandomfuntimem]

I love the fight scenes in Httyd: Race to The Edge. They're all such a good mix of goofy and serious.

My two favorite fights are the fight between Gobber and Ryker at the auction and the one between Tuffnut and Gruffnut on Barf and Belch.

Gobber and Ryker were just so wildly fun to watch. It's rare you get to see Gobber actively fight, and by god, Gobber was putting in the work. Ryker didn't know how to handle him. Sure, he got a few hits in, but overall, that fight was all in Gobber's favored. That leg sweep followed up by a flying elbow drop was naaasssty. That man was so pissed at Ryker he ran up a wall with a peg leg. An amazing fight scene all together.

It was Tuff vs. Gruff. In that episode, there's an interaction between the two where Gruff says Tuff was never able to beat him in a fight, and he knows he can't now. When he said that, I leaned over to my sister (we're binging the series together since i never finished it) and said, "Considering what Tuff has had to do. He would pummel Gruff," and I was right. Tuff locked the fuck in. At first, he dove down to attack Gruff and missed. I was just like, "he's gonna come back up with Hiccup and Toothless' help," nope. He used the wind and speed of which his was falling with Hiccup's flight suite and propelled himself up and onto the back of Barf and Belch. Then he and Gruff started fighting, and while it was more equal than Gobber v. Ryker, Ruff still put in a lot of work. My favorite move he pulled was when Gruff pushed him off the front of Barf and Belch, and Tuff used the flight suite to suspend himself long enough to get back on. Geniuse.

In general, Race to The Edge is an amazing show. 10/10 do recommend. Gobber elbow drop is the funniest shit I have ever whitnessed.

[leebrontide]

Hello!

I'm Lee (any pronouns), a middle aged queer writer from the midwest of the US. It's been a bit, so I'm doing another writeblr intro, to find more potential writeblr folks to chat with!

What I write:

- Mostly scifi! I have a bit of fantasy brewing in a collab project, but mostly, scifi.

- Queer stuff. Lots of different types of queerness.

- Community. Both in the group-hugs-and-support variety and the extreme-mess/everybodies-traumas-keep-smashing-into-each-other variety. I have training as a family therapist and am endlessly fascinated by interpersonal dynamics. This is the meat of my work.

- Grounded worldbuilding. My main project right now is near future scifi that diverges from our timeline around 2001. I'm enjoying the hell out of playing the US I know with some very key tweaks that changed society. I know a lot about medical systems, criminal justice systems, and legal systems and like using fantasy and scifi elements to show them as I know them. But like, in a way that should appeal to people who give 0 shits about US institutions.

- Disability stuff. Not that after-school-special shit. I am just tired of characters being generic pretty dolls whose physical attributes don't impact how they move through the world. That means not only writing a variety of different disabilities, but also different bodies. My characters aren't "inspiration porn" or just waiting around for less disabled characters to come save them. They are messy, with a wide array of relationships to their limitations and the things they use to cope with those limitations.

- YA into new adult. Not exclusively, but mostly. I really like taking characters from YA into early adulthood. Not just a standard coming-of-age arc, but the actually moving from a self-concept of a dependent teen into someone with legal responsibility for themselves, jobs, college, etc. Especially when combined with all of the above. I love a nice long character arc with lots of sub-arcs along the way.

What I have out, now.

- I have two books out so far, Secondhand Origin Stories and Names in Their Blood. I'm working on book 3 in that planned 5 book series now, which is currently titled Brittle Idols.

- I have a free monthly newsletter called Shed Letters where I talk about psychology, tech, queerness, storytelling, and the creative process, plus whatever random topic I've been researching for my books recently. Also contains pictures of my three very photogenic cats.

- Newsletter subscribers also have access to a novella I wrote that goes between Secondhand Origin Stories and Names in Their Blood, that's about an fictional AI (the only kind I like) trying to decide on a body for themself.

- I also draw and animate, with my first and still in-progress animation project being a "trailer" for Secondhand Origin Stories.

What I'm looking for

- writeblrs - especially writeblrs that aren't JUST writeblrs. I want to feel like I'm meeting people, at least in some manner, rather than just hearing about a product in process. That doesn't have to mean deep confessions or private information, but honestly I'm not likely to remember you for your writing project alone. Sorry. Please show me what else you care about!

- Bonus points for queer or disabled scifi or fantasy writers.

- I am white for most intents and purposes but I always want to find more AOC who write sci fi.

- Also always excited to meet more YA authors- especially the currently kinda sidelined YA scifi.

- People who care about where society is going but aren't posting that everything is doomed and pointless. I mean you post whatever you want but I don't need that on my dash. That shit is not helping me help.

I sometimes do ask games? It's fun when I have the time. It'd be fun to have more folks to do them with, provided those folks are patient.

Please interact if this has piqued your interest!

[bokettochild]

Do you have some hcs for Legend? I'd love to hear your thoughts on him :)

So, so many of them!

he's far-sighted! Due to a lot of adventuring and focusing on the far away stuff, he's actually trained his eyes to always be focused on far away things, and so now he struggles to see things clearly close up. he has specticals for it (Impa took him to get some when they were in Labrynna together) but he rarely remembers to wear them, and doesn't like to out on the road to begin with, as he's worried they'll break. he tends to forget he's wearing them when at his house though, so Ravio's really the only one who sees him wear them more than he sees him without them.

he's totally a bit of a history nerd, because I said so. It was more just stories when he was little, but between frequently interacting with ancient artifacts and architecture, as well as time traveling himself, Legend's become somewhat fascinated with history. he likes having all the answers (as most Links do) but for him, that includes knowing where things came from, why they were made, and so on

he's also a horse girl, much like Twilight and Warriors, but doesn't travel with a mount because it's less convenient. While having a mount in a Zelda game DOES make avoiding foes much easier, it also gets frustrating when you have to go find them again after doing however many things (point in case, my BotW horses are scattered to the four winds All The Time). Legend, who frequently is getting up and dropped in random places, doesn't like that this would leave any of his mounts alone in the middle of nowhere and thus doesn't take his own horse many places as a result. Said horse is Puini (OoA manga) and is currently housed either at the castle or with his grandparents (OoS manga). He dotes on her exceedingly, and being around Epona now reminds him of her a lot. Being as she's a literal war horse though (trained for battle with a knight) he has an inkling she would't quite like the mares of the rest of his brothers and leaves her out of the conversation when they bring up mounts

he's the OPPOSITE of someone with claustephobia! I have this fic I'm writing in my head right now where the boys finish their adventure just to get collectively dropped at Lon Lon with no way home, and have to adapt to "normal" life. A chapter of said fic (if I write it) would likely focus on the fact that Legend literally grew up in dungeons, like, his games have the most dungeons of all the Zelda games, as well as some of the biggest focus on dungeons, and as a result, they likely feel more familiar to him than the open world (and oddly safer, since they're predictable and follow Rules that the outside world doesn't have). I like to think that small, narrow, dark places would actually be soothing for him, to the point that, in the theoretical fic, it freaks the rest out when they find out he keeps purposefully climbing into dried up wells for some space when he's homesick. Maybe it's the inner bunny instincts, maybe it's a pre-existing trait that influenced the magic that made him a bunny to begin with, but Legend tends to burrow, and feels safest when he's in smaller, darker places.

He loves puzzles. I think it was Squido who said that we should let the boys enjoy their adventures, no? Let them look back fondly and smile at some things? For Legend, I think the thing he loved most about adventures with the problem solving, and puzzles are the best sorts of problems because you're guaranteed that there IS an answer. So, for someone who grew up doing puzzles most of his life (dungeons), they're a familiar thing for him and a challenge for him to face without actually endangering himself. he likes mind puzzles and logic puzzles mainly, but picture puzzles are fun too for him

Apple snob. He knows all the apple types, probably bred two of his own apple breeds somewhere in his life, and he has opinions on all of them

Nature boy. Not like Wild and Hyrule who like to get lost in it, no, Legend just likes existing in nature. He grew up on Orchard Hill, so gardening and husbandry are something he was raised to before the hero shtick, and he finds a certain sort of peace in gardening/plants. Also, he travels a lot, so he spends a lot of time by himself out of doors. Granted, that's also where a lot of the bad stuff happens to him, but the good outweighs the bad and I think he genuinely would love to go hiking or do nature walk sorts of things if adventure didn't scoop him up every time he left the house

Really big dancer. Mostly because of Din, partially because of Marin, and Cadence definitely had an influence too. Unfortunately, his mental metronome is set to the music pulse of Octavio's magic so he sort of just...can't keep a beat well without a lot of time to adjust. Once he's got it though he's killer

He can play a lot of instruments, but I really like the idea that the violin is his favorite. yes, he's got that precious ocarina from the dream world, and he learned to play one of those first, but like the idea that Uncle Aflon or maybe one of his friends was a violinist, and Legend just got dead set as a kid on that particular instrument. It's also a very diverse and emotional instrument, which grants him a lot of freedom of expression he'd usually not allow himself

He didn't speak his first word until he was four. Uncle Aflon kind of accepted early on that he might be mute, but as it happened, he just didn't feel the need to use words to communicate, since what he wanted was either always evident or could be figured out without him having to speak much. I think he was likely either mostly silent as a child, using mainly sign or other nonverbal communications, but if you want to make it angsty, I also like to say that it could be because his throat got messed up by an illness he had when he was very small so talking was painful for him. I HC that that changed after he traveled to Labrynna, because the memaid's curse didn't just give him a tail, but also effected/altered his voice, making speech easier for him but also making it to where he can actually cham people with his voice if he's not careful (which perhaps contributed to him becoming a harsher spoken person because then the charm is less likely to slip through on accident if he's being a jerk)

Continuing the speech HCs, I think Legend's tendency towards speech is impacted heavily by wo he's around. if it's anyone he met prior to Labrynna, or in Labrynna, he defaults to mostly sign, whereas if he met them after, he tends to usually use spoken words

Legend' far more expressive and open with sign language, as tone is very important and easier to navigate for him. In essence, it is his first language and the one he's most comfortable with

That said, with people he's truly comfortable with, legend's just straight up non-verbal. he doesn't feel the need to speak and usually just uses facial expressions and exaggerated motions to express himself. Being able to shut down the speech center of his brain for a bit is a huge relief and since those he knows well know how to read him just fine like that, it doesn't make much of a difference either way

As y'all know, I champion the Fable and Legend are siblings HC, though I know it's neither cannon, nor likely to be cannon in LU (pretty sure JoJo confirmed it's not true). Still, I really really like the twins thing!

On the note of being twins! You know how sometimes, with twins, one comes out stronger than the other? Yeah, that was Fable. Legend's actually the smaller/weaker twin, though not by much. he was a very sickly baby though. Oddly enough though, despite being physically weaker than his sister, he actually got the stronger of the magic between the two of them! It might even be possible that the strength of his magic might have been the reason his body is weaker; because housing that much power can put a significant strain on a body. Either way, Fable and he joke about it frequently, saying that as he's got stronger Holy magic, he should have been the princess, and since she's physically stronger, she should be the one with the sword. He doesn't mean it though, and is only playing along. Fable kinda sorta really does mean it though)

It's less focused on by the fandom as a whole, but in case you didn't know: Legend is more than just a polyglot! In his games alone, we see that he can hear and understand not only most trees (not just guardian trees like the Deku and Maku trees, but the normal ones around Kakariko too), but also animals, spirits, and literally forces of nature! Heck, the literal SEASONS coo about how adorable he is when you meet them in OoS! That said, I think he learned pretty early on that this isn't normal. Uncle started getting really worried when he saw and heard Legend speaking to what seemed to be thin air on multiple occasions, so he learned to just not answer unless there aren't other humans/hylians around

Continuing the previous one, this does mean that Legend has to frequently resist asking for directions from various passing by birds and animals, and instead just bites his tongue and lets Twilight go off scouting because explaining that he can hear voices no one else can hear is just....ot the best of ideas

Despite the rest of the heroes' being under the impression that Legend was an only child, he actually has Middle Child energy. this is because he grew up with Fable, Ralph, the Oracles, and Ghanti bossing him around/messing with him, but he also helps look after his neighbor Gully, who I fully believe he loves the same way that Wind loves Aryll.

While I have Gully on the mind, I think Smith and his wife have mentally adopted Legend and all but see him as their eldest, since Bertha (Smith's wife), also had a hand in helping Aflon, newly appointed caretaker to an infant he knows nothing about minding, with learning about babies. Legend however, dense as he is, still fully believes they just put up with him for their actual son's sake, since Gully clearly adores him so much

This shows up a lot in my fics, but I like the idea that Legend loves the stars. Like, tehy're the same, always there, no matter where you go. he's traveled a lot and been tossed into random locations where everything is different, yet whenever he looks up, there the stars are, the same as always, just from a different angle. I think Uncle Aflon taught him the various constellations when he was small, and maybe when Legend was lonely in his adventures he started talking to them like they could hear them (and heck, if the seasons can hold a conversation, then why couldn't the stars?). Also, you know the thing about how if you're deep enough underground and you look up through a hole you can see the sky? Yeah, he's more used to night skies and stars than sunlight

Despite being a traveler, he's actually got a palish complexion for his skin tone, since he spends most of his time underground. He's also a bit sensitive to sunlight all around and gets a headache fairly quickly when he's out in it. He hates noon time and would rather be sleeping than awake when the suns at its zenith

I've seen this one around a bit, but I really love the idea that legend enjoys wearing his uncle's old clothes around the house when he's between adventures. he probably keeps Uncle's pipe tobacco and other things stored with the clothes so they still smell like him even after all these years

He's entirely unaware of the fact that being on regular speaking terms with the Golden Goddesses, the Fates, the Seasons, the freaking Triforce, and most royalty is uncommon for a hero. He's aware most people don't do it, but it's sort of jarring for him when he realizes that the other heroes' dealings are limited to mostly mortals, and lowly ones at that, and that when they do speak of the goddesses, it's usually with some sort of reverence. Meanwhile Legend will and has insulted Din to her face for picking on him about his height, gossips with Farore whenever they run into each other, and the only one he kinda treats with reservation/respect is Nayru because they sort of faught each other that one time and while it wasn't her faught, it still makes things a bit awkward at times

He tends to chew on things when he's restless/agitated. He's not even aware he's doing it half the time, and has chewed his sleeves, hair, and various tools at different times. The Chain have designated bowls (Sky got bored) and his has very clear signs of gnawing around the edges. Same with any wooden spoons he's given (although, being as Uncle raised him with manners, Legend does carry his own silverware at all times, and thus rarely needs to borrow from others (it's a medieval manners thing))

Unlike the stereotype of men when they're sick, Legend actually gets really quiet when he's sick. Hyrule's the same way and it's mostly to draw the least attention to themselves when they're not in fighting condition. Usually though, he tends to take the 'sleep through it' approach, which is really a very poor choice, but as far as he's concerned, it's worked until now so he's not changing it

I think Legend's a very physical person, someone who likes to be able to touch and feel various things, and generally enjoys the idea of physical affection, but in reality balks at it because it usually catches him off guard. That said, he do be touching all the stuff and animals.

Gets weird about dodongos. he knows that the majority of them are threats, but there's always a part of him that wonders if some of them are like Dimitri, and it can be tricky for him to fight them at times

The early Zelda games are sort of wack honestly, but the fact that he's technically a telepath gets brushed aside way too much, y'know? Like, Legend regularly has conversations with Zelda and Sahasralah from miles away, IN HIS HEAD, and only uses certain stones to strengthen that connection, not forge it to begin with! Now, he might just be receptive to telepathy, maybe it's a twin thing (I have a WIP about that) but I think it'd be really funny if he's just sitting on that little skill and never brings it up because linking up (lol) thoughts with someone can be very overwhelming when your brain is already moving a thousand miles a minute, and trying to process thoughts and feelings that aren't his own gives him a migraine. So he just.... doesn't. Unless Zelda reaches out first or he needs to tell her something important.

He's terrible about self care and remembering his own needs, but will, can, and does scold others for doing the same. He doesn't even care that he's a huge hypocrite, not much anyway

Magpie. Boy loves his shiny things. Like, he doesn't technically need everything he has, and he knows most of it will never be used, but if it's pretty he keeps it anyway

I feel like Legend'a also got a bit of food insecurity. When he was a kid, freshly thrust into his first adventure and with the kingdom turned against him, he didn't actually know how to find his own food and ended up going hungry a LOT during that first adventure (which might have stunted his growth a bit). Since then, he's made a point to not only educate himself on what's safe to eat and what's not, but he also taught himself how to preserve and prepare long lasting foods, which he keeps a huge stockpile of. He also doesn't trust any food he hasn't watched be prepared unless it's made by someone he trusts, and even then sometimes his anxiety/paranoia gets the better of him. There were a few neighbors who tried slipping something in the meals they gave him under the pretense of taking pity, when in reality they planned to turn him over to the knights, so he's always cautious now

He's actually less wary and guarded outside of Hyrule than he is inside of it. Lorule is an exception because it's a version of Hyrule, but any other country is used to a very different version of him because Legend isn't always suspecting foul play in other kingdoms who have nothing to gain from his death.

He cannot handle blood well. Yeah, he's a hero, yeah, he fights a lot, and yes, he's frequently injured in battle or dungeons, but watching his Uncle bleed to death left him with a kind of hemophobia and he tends to have mini panic attacks/breakdowns when exposed to large amounts of blood. He hates it, but can't control it, and hasn't found a way to overcome it at all

After spending a long time at sea after Koholint, trying to find his way home, Legend actually really dislikes the taste of fish. He had to rely on his mer form a lot getting home, and fish has been ruined forever because it was his only choice for food, and eating it raw (mer) did make him sick a few times (he's still hylian at his core) so now he tends to get queasy when eating fish, just on reflex

He's a dead ringer for his late mother, to the point where people who knew her sometimes double take

I know Warriors is supposed to be the pretty one, but considering Legend's canonically had forces of nature comment on how pretty he is (I think it was Summer specifically, but it could have been one of the other Seasons), I think he's got a type of beauty that, at the least, appeals to the supernatural/magical beings. He's unaware of this though, although he'll always say Fable is one of the most beautiful people in the world, all while unawares of the fact that they're nearly identical looks-ways

He likes to doodle. Drawing more so, but e enjoys both depending on what mood he's in

Logically and artistically minded. Numbers bother him though (something Ravio, who is the reverse, definitely abuses)

He's one of those people who genuinely will be happy if you get him a candle. He's got everything anyone could need, but something that smells nice, offers minimal light, and he;s always running out of? Oh he loves them. He's very picky about what scents he'll accent though because his nose is very sensitive

He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders a lot when he's bored/tense/stressed- basically all the time LOL

he uses sewing/stitchwork as a way to try and relax himself after a long day. it works half the time. the other half his thread gets tangled and he gets very worked up LOL

Secretly admired Sky's skills in embroidery, but doesn't have the patience to practice anything complicated

he loves to teach people things, but constantly assumes people won't listen, so he tends to break things down to bare basics rather than going into the nitty gritty like he enjoys.

Such a big sweet tooth

Genuinely hates the feeling of fur. Twilight's pelt bothers him, not just because the guy who turns into a wolf is literally wearing a wolf's skin, but also because the feeling of fur, treated or no, displeases him most of the time. He only likes fur when it's on something alive and moving, and even then, he's picky about it

Has a extreme fear of dogs. It's both from being chased by the soldiers' dogs, but also various dog-like things in the Dark World. Wolfie used to make him very uncomfortable before he realized it was Twilight

Fall boy. The other seasons would be offended if they knew he had a favorite, but I think his little apple farming, leaf crunching, bright color enjoying self would just adore the fall.

he LOVES the rain. His arthritis acts up something awful when it rains, but when it's not too bad he enjoys being out in the rain. That said, he HATES thunderstorms, less because of being struck by lightning (LA) and more because of the storm the night that his Uncle died

He's actually not fond of heights. He doesn't panic, but he's used to being very low, or even below the ground, so being very high above it unsettles him.

He tends to sleep curled up, he's not sure why, he just does

He's got VERY sensitive ears, both to touch and sound

Buck teeth <3

Also, freckles. He doesn't spend much time in the sun, but he does tend to freckle when he has. It also brings out some natural highlights in his hair, but he's not aware of that because it's not happened since he was small

Tends to sound like he's talking down to everyone, but in reality he's just never sure what all most people know about any given subject

Has such a soft spot for kids

He's a god-father to Bippin and Blossom's kid, and he adores that little munchkin, bordering on spoiling them.

Imma end it there because it's late and I need to be up early, but I hope this satisfied your curiosity a bit!

Thanks for the ask! I appreciate the chance to talk about all these ideas!

[lovejongseob]

hii !! can u write a "idol!reader x jiung"?? u r so talented (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ tysmm

-🍨.

Jiung x Idol Reader

Hiiii again 🍨 !! Awwww thank you so much !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Ty for requesting, I hope you enjoy !!

If you're ever having small or casual interactions on camera, Jiung excels at acting professional. He is exceptionally skilled in this, and experiences basically no issues here. While he does wish he didn't have to be so secretive, he knows you both love each other, and personally wouldn't want to do a lot of pda anyway. You aren't too surprised given how engrained media training is, but a small, small part of you is a little shocked at how easily he can somewhat split up his personality. All in all, this is a positive thing given your shared line of work.

If you happen to be in a professional situation where you interact a bit frequently, or need to be more friendly, he's still respectfully reserved, but a little warmer. Jiung is just a tad calculating, and would set up a dynamic where you two are cool in collaboration, but leave no room for shipping among fans. Very good at making crossover episode like atmospheres. It almost feels like someone got isekai'd there, fans don't really see value in romantic pairing, but it's entertaining nonetheless.

Jiung often wishes he could have more time to spend with you. However, he is used to, and respects, the busy schedules, events, touring, meetings, practicing, cameras, and too many things to count at once. He understands you two have to live separate lives to an extent. He loves you a lot in private, and holds those moments close to his heart. He adores you, everything you do, as well as his group and craft, its because of that he separates his work and intimate life so much.

That being said, he doesn't mind an overlap in talking about work. He even more so, is happy when discussing private music and lyrics, art not really made to be released. Jiung wonders a lot about what you're working on, he likes to actually hear it himself. Accidentally inspirational, he can turn the idea of what he thought you would make into a song. Loves hearing your thought process, and emotion behind what you make. Overjoyed when you listen to what he has to say about stuff has been putting effort into. A lot of thoughts he's excited to spill out, but he gets why you might just want to forget about all that for a second.

A lot of playlists based on you, he has has quite the complex, but very organized selection. He has ones with your music, other songs that remind him of you, playlists based on moments and things he loves about you, and even themed ones around specific eras or looks you've had. Jiung also has a playlist of all the covers he has of you, or has found, and a separate of his personal favorites. Would have one to fall asleep to.

Jiung tries to add whimsy and fun into your day with small gestures. Sends you pretty fanart and edits he see's of you, miscellaneous photos, lyrics or book quotes he thinks you'd like, or sometimes diabolical but amusing bursts of texts or images. When he gets time with you, he's trying to make you laugh, or help you relax. Genuinely holds a lot of admiration for your talent and the hard work you put in, he feels honored to be your boyfriend.

Bonus texts:

All found on Pinterest again

thank you sm for requesting again !! i hope you enjoy !! fr though i really hope p1h gets more time for themselves, i absolutely love all their content but fnc needs to give them breaks. always feel like im forgetting something oh my god i cant take it anymore. fuck it we schedule 🙏🙏

[curated-hdg]

Let's Check In On Sheepwave!

One could quite accurately accuse me of being a Sheepwave "fan". In fact, one could quite reasonably claim that Sheepwave has a hand in most of the best things coming out lately. I've spoken at length in the past about Good Sensory, On Domestication of Masters, and From Pawn to Princess; all three of those continue to be incredible and very much worth your time. But, because that apparently wasn't enough, we've got more.

To wit:

The Princess and The Predator by sheepwave, Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025; Ongoing; part of the HDG Princessification Writing Jam

18k words; 5 chapters released

Significant Tags: AU, Vampirism, Forced Age Regression

Lynn Walsh is a thermal management engineer fighting for her life after her ship crashed on an icy forest planet. Tamai Armetisia, Ninth Bloom is a huntress affini looking to do a rescue mission. When Lynn’s ship is finally found, the two are fated to meet, and maybe they're exactly what the other needs most.

The premise here is pretty simple: what if Tamai Armetisia of Cat and Mouse was the affini who found Lynn Walsh? The result is a dark mirror of From Pawn to Princess. Slylittleprincess and Sheepwave working together isn't just for powerful, traumatic, deadass affini, it's also for blood-drinking "Mommies" who really wants to molest their little girls.

Y'all... Tamai is fucked up. It's great. There's so much blood! Mind the tags on this one, it's a spicy meatball. However, having just read the fifth chapter, I can confirm that it's also incredibly funny. Like, these two are having fun with this, and it really shows. If you liked Cat and Mouse, you'll love this.

And speaking of fucked up...

Hazing at the Floret Party by4WheelSword, sheepwave, and Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025

26k words; 7 chapters; ongoing

Noteworthy tags: sorority/frat house sex basement

Abby is a nineteen year old independent college student surrounded by floret friends. her focus on her studies has put her in the target of a wellness check. she doesn't want to risk being domesticated, so she decides to go to a floret party. All she has to do is make an appearance, stay sober, and avoid pushy affini, and she can go back to studying for her finals. what's the worst that could happen?

Hey. You. You know that feeling? That feeling when your friend drags you to a party you didn't really want to go to? And someone hands you a drink, and you realize it tastes kinda funny, and then things start to get completely fucking out of hand?

Y'wanna kink off that feeling in a dark comedy where nothing truly awful can actually happen (well, nothing worse than getting taken as a pet by a benevolent mind control alien, anyways)?

NOW HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT PISS?!

I can say from interaction with their work that 4WheelSword, Slylittleprincess, and yes, Sheepwave, are all extremely normal about both piss (noun) and piss (verb). I would like to briefly quote from chapter 4:

“I know how much you like the catheter, my love. Treat yourself.”

And I swear to god, this is the authors speaking directly to each other. Now, I've long ago given up any pretense of pretending I don't have at least a piss (verb) kink. And if you haven't... this one might get to you. I will also add that there's a running gag in every chapter and with every single chapter it gets funnier and funnier. You'll see what I mean.

SPEAKING OF OUTPUT...

Good Sensory (Omegaverse) by sheepwave

For Slylittleprincess.

Released: June 2025

81k words (???!?), 18 chapters (!?!?!)

Notable Tags: Not HDG, Omegaverse

An autistic kinky romance story about learning to unmask and be loved as the person you actually are, rather than the one you think you're supposed to be. Sally Fable is a 22 year old transgender omega who doesn't click with most people. she is easily overwhelmed. bad textures, bad sensations, all of it. she also has a lot of experience being made fun of for how passionate she can get. Marsha Lywick is an alpha in her late forties who wasn't born as one, who wants to break Sally's masking habits and turn her into the cutest little bonded companion imaginable.

You've read Good Sensory, right? The kinky, fun romance story? With an affini who stalks the main character, drugs her nonconsensually, and otherwise acts like a dangerous predator, but it's genuinely fluffy and nice? Like, in chapter 2 of Good Sensory, Marsha figures out what's good sensory for Sally, then remodels her home and her own body to match it, and that's kinda crazy but also kinda neat and believable for an affini?

I want you to imagine for a moment what it might look like for this story to be transposed into the real world. Where Marsha is not an affini bound by benevolence, but a human. Where her power is enabled not by the compact, but by other means. What might that look like? What might Poppy Versiona look like?

The answer is. Um.

Woaw.

Let me tell you, without the context of HDG and the compact, the scenes where Marsha drugs Sally sure do pick up some new connotations!

So one major difference is that they're all humans. Another change is that they fuck. Like, rather a lot. It's a rather central point at this moment. This story is disgustingly filthy, pulls no punches, and somehow takes every horrifying yandere thing about the original Good Sensory and cranks it up to 11. I will confess, I am only a third of the way through it, as I've been savoring it to read to a partner, but the things it's setting up, the things it's doing... This story is goddamn incredible.

(It has been presented to me that the latest hot gossip on the street is that Sheepwave and Slylittleprincess might be more than just coauthors. I take no position on these allegations, beyond "Okay, yay!" It would certainly explain this output!)

[trelinha9]

Every time I see a Friede x Amethio post, ten of my neurons die. I know these posts come from new fans who only watched the episodes released on Netflix (which goes up to 13 if I'm not mistaken), and he's only appeared in 6 episodes at this point (which is a crime against my mental health. What the hell is he doing in that time offscream? I WANT ANSWERS!!!) I remember in the first episodes of Horizontes, that Tumblr and AO3 were full of posts and fics about Friede x Amethio, and they disappeared over time as the episodes went on.

It's funny, because nowadays, almost a year after Horizons officially started, fans who watch the subtitled episodes are all worried about the mental health of this teenager and wondering why the heck they are in Exploradores, while the new fans are in the same boat as most of the old ones were and abandoned, shipping the poor guy with Friede.

I personally never shipped them because:

1: Amethio is, canonically, and confirmed by his original voice actor, a teenager (on bulbapedia it said he was between 13 and 19, but now they removed that part and only added the fact that he is a teenager, without mentioning a possible age) I headcanon him as 16, because, for me, it's the age that makes the most sense for his behavior and mannerisms, but that's just me. You can imagine him as 18 or 19 if that makes you feel more comfortable shipping him with Friede, but it doesn't change the fact that he's still a young and emotionally immature person, with no apparent emotional support base other than his Pokémon and his subordinates (Zir and Conia will get there someday, I know they will), while Friede is a fully grown adult, and clearly more mature than Amethio (there's even a line about it in episode 25). Friede had already been a Pokémon teacher for probably a reasonable amount of time when Liko was around 5 to 7 years old (we find out about this in episode 18), and honestly, Amethio doesn't look that much older than Liko. The clear age difference between them makes me uncomfortable. There are a lot of adults in the Horizons cast to be shipped with Friede, leave the traumatized teenager alone.

2: The way Friede, especially in the first arc, keeps teasing Amethio, even though he's clearly irritated and on edge, makes me want to punch him. I love Friede. But the way he interacts with Amethio, one minute he's having a good time taking care of Liko and Roy, and the next he's ready to annoy the shit out of a teenager make me so angry. I love this idea that Friede is a complete social disaster who doesn't really know how to pick up cues (scareing a deaf girl, for example, is definitely something he would do by accident 👀), but there's no way he can't see how negatively his actions and words affect Amethio. Amethio wants to prove himself. He wants to fulfill the mission ordered to him, and this idiot adult, in addition to getting in the way, bothers him every chance he gets (ep 5, ep 22 and ep 25 are the best examples). I'm amazed at how Friede either doesn't really realize the harm his actions cause to Amethio, or he does and simply decides to keep doing it.

This post may make it seem like I don't like Friede, which isn't true. I love Friede. I think he's a very funny character, but he also has a lot of flaws, and bullying a teenager is one of them.

I don't want to start fights about ships, because I'm not in Horizontes for the ships, but for the story and the characters. The only ship I really like is Friede with a certain Explorer who erased a child's memory (because for the love of god, they couldn't have made their battle in the last episode any less gay, could they) I don't want to offend anyone who ships Friede and Amethio, I just wanted to give my opinion on the matter and why I, with my interpretation of the story and characters, hate this ship. (Hate is a strong word, but I feel uncomfortable whenever I see this ship somewhere)

I'm really sorry if I offended anyone at any point in this post, I just don't like seeing a teenager and an adult being shiped.

[starry-bi-sky]

watch me end up making a superdad au coz of WTNS

because!!! because i was thinking about how funny it is that Bruce's first two kids (Dick and Danny) would be superman fans, and how funny it would be if that influenced his opinion on Superman when they first met. And then I got to picking that apart, and how Danny's opinion and feelings on Superman would have the bigger impact on Bruce than Dick, since Dick's admiration for Superman (presumably) comes from the standard little kid "he's an alien and he can FLY" (and flying graysons) stuff. Which, while very very cute, is easy to ignore and disallow swaying feelings on.

But DANNY? It's not the same. While part of Danny's admiration comes from the same "holy shit he's an alien and can fly thats so COOL" vein, it also comes from a place of feeling deeply relatable to him. Both he and Superman were/are perceived as incredibly powerful, deeply dangerous creatures that are nigh impossible to stop, they have a handful of powers that are similar to one another, and they are (one of) the only ones of their kind. Superman is (one of) the last Kryptonian, Danny is (one of) the only Liminal in existence, and they might not be the same species but the principle remains the same and they're in the same boat.

As a result, Danny would just, god, he'd find so much relation in that. And yeah they're not the same but Superman would make him feel just a little less alone, a little more seen, and he'd find so much comfort in that.

And Bruce, by the time he meets Superman, would know by then about Danny's powers and his experiences and his time as Phantom and as a Liminal. And it's easy to ignore your kid's admiration for another Superhero when it stems from a place of plain hero worship or simple appreciation. It's harder to ignore it when your kid admires a Superhero because they make them feel seen and relate to them on a level you can't reach them on.

When that's the reason, how could he not think differently about Superman? When, by then, he's seen the scars left on Danny's body from all of his fights; when he's seen him cry and break down over never being able to fly again thanks to the blood blossom poison; when he's heard all about the struggles he faced with his powers, the fear he had about being found out, the fear he had when he was first developing them; and how he was ostracized by his city for his efforts just because he wasn't human, despite how much he was just trying to help.

How could he not look at Superman when they first meet, mask-to-mask, and have a little voice in the back of his mind go: 'my kid is a lot like you'

its making me emotional. if these feeligns persist im going to end up making a superdad au