#I think meetings can commence that way.

[gloopdimension]

Getting to Talk to leo casually(outside of his work) isnt too difficult. but getting to know him is trickier

[fanaticsnail]

Can you write something romantic for yandere Mihawk? Like a drabble or headcannons?

🐈‍⬛

I don't think I've ever written yandere before, but I wanted to give it a go. I hope this is what you were looking for! 🖤🐌

Obsession

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Themes: yandere!Mihawk x gn!reader, possessive attitude, obsession, infatuation, pining, longing, lusting, love, romance, kissing, yandere trope.

Notes: I will do anything to write a man in love. I love how period-drama romance looks on Mihawk, and I couldn't not write him with a little bit of a possessive flavour. I made the banner with OPLA's Mihawk wanted poster.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @jintaka-hane @daydreamer-in-training @carrotsunshine @indydonuts @i-am-vita @sordidmusings

While many were aware that Dracule Mihawk was married, they simply presumed he was a very private man. He enjoyed keeping to himself, and allowing himself the courtesy of remaining in solitude with his spouse while tending to his title as World's Greatest Swordsman.

In some aspects, he did. He did enjoy keeping to himself and remaining in solitude while he lived in the high keep of his castle, surrounded by swirled mountains and his well-tended gardens. But at the crux of his entire life, the center of his world and the prized diamond in his vast treasury, was you.

You ruled his heart, controlled his chin and the direction his gaze fell with a simple whisper of a word or the scent of your perfume. He was a man consumed, humbled by his infatuation to the point where his love fell into captivated, depraved fixation.

To put it simply, Dracule Mihawk wanted to keep you all to himself. He was a man consumed by his bewitchment and infatuation with the owner of his heart.

He was never one for sharing, never joining a crew or forming a bond other than rivalry with another person. As soon as he met you, everything changed for him. His heart soared, his breath was stolen from his lungs, and his eyes never strayed from honing in on your beauty.

He wasn't sure what it was you did or didn't do that had him fall to his knees and begin to worship at your altar. All he knew was he wanted you so desperately, craved to be by your side always, and wanted to shy you away from the wandering eyes of all whom he deemed unworthy to have their gaze fall upon your majesty.

When your courtship first commenced, he attempted to keep his tribute humble and small. But as your eyes lit up at the first offer of a simple rose he carved from his favored floral shrubbery, he knew he wanted to spoil you with lavish luxury. Each gift was catered to your interests and tastes, items you never thought he paid enough mind to your conversation while promenading, hand interlaced within the crook of his elbow.

He paid mind to it all. The way your voice changed when speaking on your passions, the questions you asked him about his life before working for the World Government, how you paused in the garden and listened to the sweet chirps of birds begin courting their mates. He hung on your every word, movement and motion.

For someone so stoic and reserved, the way his heart melted for you the moment your eyes met was as if his cold vessel was chaperoned into the bright light of a warm sunset. He couldn't get enough, and when he was certain you returned his love, he refused any exchange of dowry for your hand.

He wanted you to be his just as much as he desired to be yours. That was more than enough for him, and he would never leave you for wanting or without for all the days of your life.

The first time he was summoned to perform his duty as a warlord for the World Government after your marriage, he was overcome with rage at the thought of leaving your side. He almost took the head of the carrier bird with the summons for his assignment, but withheld his violent act at the sight of you offering the bird your Berry, and gifting them your palm filled with sunflower seeds.

As soon as the bird fled, he lifted your palm within his own, brushed the darkened casings of the remains from the seeds' shells, and rose the flesh to his lips to kiss away the indents of pecks the bird left in raised welts on your skin. Cupping his bearded chin, you rose his amber eyes to meet with yours.

“I will return to you,” his voice mourned for you above the softest whisper, “I will always return to you.” Leaning his cheek and chin into your palm, he closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in deep yearning.

“You are always so good to me,” you responded in a tone that mirrored his own, prompting his eyes to snap open and gaze deeply into your own. “I trust you to find your way home once you conclude this contract.” Ushering his face closer to you, you whisper against his lips before fully making contact, “I will be right where you left me, waiting for you to return.”

Mihawk's eyes darkened, his pupils blown black and eclipsing his honey-hue with the intensity of his possessive gaze. He knew he was many things to you, and good was far from a sentiment he held for himself. His desire to keep you secret was not to keep you safely tucked away from those who wished to do him harm, but because he was truly a selfish man.

As your lips closed in around his own, he was ready to commence his enthusiastic consumption of all that you had to offer him. Each kiss he pressed into you felt both like the first time he had ever felt such passion, and the last time he was ever to claim such a prize.

Hands clawing at your hips, he drew you flush with his own and angled his chin to deepen the oscillation. Tongue darting out to taste yours like a delicacy he was never again to roll over his palate, the muscle ground against your lips and lewdly consuming your kiss with lusting desire.

Both pulling away from one another, he rested his forehead against yours and took a moment to catch his breath. Eyes closed and brow lowered, he shared breaths with you and savored every moment you shared with one another.

“I crave the day we meet again, my precious consort,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “My guiding light to point me home,” his lips dart down to claim your cheek beneath it, “The crown jewel in my treasury, and reigning monarch of my very soul.” He pressed a chaste and longing kiss once more against your lips before pulling away.

“Always so charming, my love,” you smile up at him, removing your hands from his face and smoothing over his leather shoulder pads of his outer great-cloak. “I will be right here ready to receive you, as I always am.”

“My beloved,” he whispered, his eyes falling half-lidded and dark eyelashes fluttering from your lengthy confession.

“My dear,” you breathed his whisper within your chest and replaced it with your own. You pressed your lips to his cheek, an offer of your blessing to embark on the next chapter of his journey.

Dracule Mihawk was a man consumed with the love he had for his counterpart. He rued each day to depart from your side, and would have no quarrel with offering his opinion as such to the official whom summoned him.

Truthfully, he was a man infatuated by his spouse that it bordered on domination by his strongest emotions, but choosing to keep them beneath the surface to not tighten you with his intensity. It was his addiction, his fix in a world full of darkness and torment.

He was your loyal zealot, knight and fierce protector, and you...

You were his obsession.

[targaryenimagines]

A Gentle Flame

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,701

Summary: After months of trying, you are finally able to give something back to your Khaleesi that she never thought she’d have again — an heir to not only House Targaryen but the Iron Throne. You just aren’t sure how you’d like to reveal the good news to your beloved; taking solace in your dearest friend’s company as he tried to help you in revealing the truth. Of course, you should have known that your dragon’s possessive fire would never be quenched — not even for Grey Worm.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, jealousy/possessiveness, and pregnancy.

Notes: Can be seen as part of the “My Khaleesi” series, but can also be read as a stand-alone as well. Thank you to the wonderful @rain-mikaelson for this amazing idea!

Series Masterlist

“She doesn’t know?”

You don’t have to turn around to see, with picture perfect clarity, the confusion that must have been etched upon your dearest friends face. The thickening of his accent alone told you all you needed to know.

“No,” you reply, setting the brush you had been fiddling with firmly back in its place on your vanity. “I only just discovered it. I went to the Palace Healer after I missed my second cycle in recent months.”

The familiar sound of leather rubbing against sharpened metal echoes through the air — a telltale sign that he was processing what had been revealed — as you begin to fiddle, once more, with the brush you hadn’t needed since the conversation had commenced.

“And the Healer?” He hedges out the question, hesitation clear in his tone. “She won’t divulge anything to the Queen?”

“No, I made sure of that. The only way Daenerys will find out I’m pregnant is from my own lips and no one else’s.”

There’s a brief moment of silence. “Why tell me, Your Grace?”

Twisting around, so you’re finally staring face-to-face with your closest companion, you can’t help the small, albeit genuine, twist of your lips as you smiled at him. “Because you’re my closest friend, Grey Worm.” You wave a hand in the air, even as a melancholic twinge echoes within your heart. “Dany always had Missandei and I always had you.”

“And you still do,” he intones, clearly fighting through the wave of emotions that her name still invokes within him. “You always will, Your Highness. For as long as I shall live and be able to raise my weapon to the sky in your honor.”

You’re touched by the fierceness within his tone — not doubting, for even a second, the sincerity behind his words; Grey Worm would always protect you, would always be there — but the knowledge of what the upcoming days would bring, causes you to lean back against your vanity with a heavy sigh.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to break the news, Grey.” Running a frazzled hand through your hair, Grey Worm simply observes as you sort out the various thoughts whirling in your head. “The Summit is commencing in five days, the guests will be arriving in two, and you know how Daenerys has been planning this for months.” Your eyes raise to meet stoic brown. “I can’t have her know I’m pregnant until after.”

He tilts his head. “I would assume the Queen would be ecstatic to learn the news, Your Grace.”

“She would be,” you state, confident in that knowledge at least. “But, I can’t have that be what she’d focus on this week. Even if she’d pretend to be business as usual, we both know how Daenerys gets when even the slightest chance of my safety is in question. How do you think she’d react or behave, with all these unknowns arriving in King’s Landing, if she knew I’m with child?”

Grey Worm doesn’t respond, he didn’t have to, not when the last time your life had seemed to be in peril was still so fresh within both of your minds. You had been ambushed returning to the Red Keep after a day in the city, a couple of vagabonds testing their luck against Valyrian and Dothraki blades, it had ended quickly, but your darling wife had not taken the news of no major injuries lightly; not when things could of had a different conclusion. Daenerys had been on a warpath for weeks, refusing to let any stone go unturned, until everyone she deemed responsible for such a fuck up was punished accordingly; whether that be the genial blacksmith that had sold them their weapons, the proprietors of the tavern the vagabonds frequented and loudly discussed their plans, or the guardsmen themselves that hadn’t realized there was a threat before it was almost too late.

“She can’t know,” you stress. “Not when this Summit means so much to her.”

There’s a beat of silence, wherein your closest companion simply observes you, taking note of what feelings must have been flickering within your gaze, before he inclined his head, an imperceptible motion that only the people who knew him would be able to pick up.

“What will you have me do?”

“I wish for you to stay close, my love.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a question, by the steely undercurrent that lay within her tone, the diplomatic smile on her lips causing her eyes to strain with the force of keeping her emotions in check. You could tell that Daenerys had begun to tire of playing host to all the nobles, both of major and minor houses, that Westeros seemed so proud to boast. However, the end result of what this Summit could potentially do, collecting all of the major players within the Seven Kingdoms to witness the power that is House Targaryen, meant that she was allowing herself to be docile for the moment.

At least until the single House that caused her hackles to rise appeared.

House Stark moved as a singular unit, bringing truth to the old adage that its members were like a wolf pack, but the lone man leading met your gaze solidly with his own steely brown. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by Daenerys, nor the guard standing mere feet behind you both, and you could practically feel the air thicken with growing tension. Something that would have caused Daenerys to take up arms if she knew of the life I’m now carrying.

“Your Majesties.” A familiar gravelly voice greets, his head inclining to the both of you. “It’s a pleasure for House Stark to be invited back to King’s Landing.”

His sentiment was clearly not shared with the two women behind him — the shorter of the two looking like she was about stab someone and the taller one’s lips twisting in bitter distaste — but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Warden Snow,” Daenerys greets in return, her smile now almost looking like she was baring her teeth in warning; a sign of dominance that any wolf would know to back away from, unless it was a fight they were after. “I welcome you to the Summit with open arms. I do hope that the amenities within the Keep will be enough to sate you during the duration of your stay.” Violet eyes flicker to icy blue just behind him. “If there’s something you need, you’re more than free to find an attendant that will help you with any issue you may have.”

You stifle the urge to curse under your breath at Daenerys’ veiled insult. It was no secret that House Stark, namely the red-headed she wolf, was at odds with House Targaryen; ever since Daenerys had blatantly told them that the North would not be gaining any form of independence, siting there was no justification for it, as Daenerys had barely gained anything from the short alliance they had brokered during the Long Night. Nor did the North have anything to truly offer since The Wall fell.

It’s an argument that still caused an icy frigidity from members of House Stark now — one that Daenerys didn’t deign important enough to deal with at the present moment, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t ever watchful for what the scheming mutts could be cooking up in order to gain a modicum amount of power for their insipid region — which is why, due to their close proximity, you could feel the steady presence of Grey Worm at your back, his rigid posture even more tense than usual due to the news that only he, and the Palace Healer, were privy to. His close proximity is something you’re sure Daenerys has taken note of, if her varying glances throughout the night were anything to go by, but she was constantly pulled in different directions before she was able to speak the words that clearly wished to escape.

Although aware of your close relationship to the Captain of her Queensguard, she was also aware of Grey Worm’s unfaltering fealty to her and how he would never cross a line that Daenerys had drawn in the sand the moment she had claimed you as her own; you were off limits. The only time anyone should ever enter your personal space, barring her and your handmaidens, and even they had a tight leash to tread with, was if they were pushing you out of the way of immediate danger.

You had told Grey that his proximity would be a red flag to your wife, but his protective instincts seemed to not care as he stared impassively at the three individuals at the bottom of the dais you were standing upon.

Knowing that this could only go one way, if the looks that were being exchanged between Daenerys and the youngest Stark were anything to go by, you step forward, placing a gentle hand to the small of your wife’s back. “I believe it’s time to give your speech, Dany,” you murmur. “And we both know you don’t want to keep this crowd waiting.”

While Daenerys doesn’t turn to face you fully, you’re well aware that you have her attention, her body leaning against the palm of your hand, the simple touch soothing the roaring fire that might have been into a gentle flame.

“You’re right, ñuha perzys.” A gloved hand ghosts across your hip, but Daenerys keeps her gaze resolutely forward. “I’m afraid I must cut this rather delightful exchange short. It’s about the time that I should be addressing the room.” Violet eyes glint sharply. “Wouldn’t wish for anyone to think I favor House Stark.”

Crisis averted, you think, observing the whispered conversation between the three as they left to find their seats. For now.

A soft touch to your cheek causes you to almost jump out of your skin, the sight Daenerys’ concerned expression doing little to sate the racing of your heart. “Are you well, dearest?” Worry colors her tone, eyes flashing with a protective fire. “You’ve seemed preoccupied all night.”

“I’m fine, Dany.” You cradle the hand that’s currently still doing the same to your cheek. “It’s just been a long day. I’m anticipating when it’ll all be over and I’ll get to be alone with you.”

You could tell that your wife felt the same, but something still lurked in violet depths that you adored so much. Something that made you want to curse once more — sometimes you hated how perceptive your wife was, even if the knowledge that she observed you to the point that she could pick apart the very foundations of your moods set you alight with adoration, you couldn’t help but wish that Daenerys would let this slide.

“I’m anticipating the same,” Daenerys replies, stepping back to offer you her arm; a gesture that you accept instantly. “But, for now, we must be the royals that Westeros demands us to be.”

Keeping your gaze locked with the seat that’d be your home for the next few hours, you completely miss the look Daenerys sends Grey Worm as he diligently follows behind you, never missing a step, remaining your ever loyal shadow, and the way her arm tightens around yours that much more because of it.

“I truly don’t know why I haven’t killed them yet,” Daenerys mutters, running gentle fingers through the tangled locks of your hair. Violet eyes staring up at the ceiling of your shared bedchamber. “It’d be so easy then I could simply appoint a new Warden of the North that wouldn’t annoy me so.”

Huffing out a laugh, you rest your chin on Daenerys’ clavicle, staring at her with soft eyes, despite the topic at hand, and press a light kiss to the patch of the skin that was easily available. It was later, hours after the dinner had ended, with the moon hanging high in the sky, but, despite the weight of the day bearing down upon your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like you were floating; here, in this bed, with your darling dragon, tangled naked in the rumpled sheets of your marital bed.

“Because you don’t wish to deal with the hassle such an action will cause, beloved,” you reply, knowing that Daenerys would appreciate your insight. “You’ve already dealt with two wars in this infernal landscape as it is. There’s no reason to fight another so soon. Not so early into your reign.”

Tendrils of your hair curl around pale fingers, a soft look etched upon her face; an expression that Daenerys only leveled at you and Drogon. “So much knowledge hidden behind such a beautiful face.” She strokes your cheek, love speaking through every action and echoed in the look upon your own face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, which is exactly why I wish to deal with those blasted mutts.” Her arm tightens around your naked form. “I don’t trust them, and I know they don’t trust me, nor do I think they’ll just let things go. They have a personal vendetta against me and I fear they’ll use you to rectify it.”

You nuzzle closer, comforted by your Khaleesi’s sweet scent. “We don’t know what the future may bring.” Some more than others. “But, I have hope that I’ll be protected.”

What was meant as a soothing gesture, an affirmation that Daenerys would always be able to keep you safe, seemed to have the complete opposite effect. Her pliable body going stiff against your own, hand halting its comforting movement, a sharpness entering her gaze.

“Dany?” You question, rising up onto your forearms to peer down at her. The silence settling over you like a thick blanket, a brooding entity that meant she was deep in thought, an elegant brow furrowed as she tried to corral her rampant thoughts. “What’s the matter?”

Finally, after another beat of tense silence, her eyes slip to meet your own. “Do you feel that confident with your security detail, ñuha perzys?”

“Yes?” Not understanding where this line of questioning was coming from you couldn’t help the slight lilt at the end of your answer. “Of course, I do.”

A stormy look falls across your wife’s face. “Really?” She straightens to lean against her pillow, now peering down at you. “You feel so confident when those very people almost got you killed by random mercenaries? I find that hard to believe.”

“I thought we went over this when it happened, Dany,” you sigh, finally sitting up to be on a more level field. Knowing now that you weren’t going to go back to snuggling anytime soon. “The two responsible for the oversight were dealt with, by your own hand if you recall, and the rest have more than made up for it. They won’t fail me or you again.”

“It was dealt with so swiftly due to my Captain straightening it out,” Daenerys snipes, arms crossed over her naked chest, the thin sheet having fallen around her hips sometime ago. “I don’t even want to imagine what those fools would have done without him.”

A small smile curls your lips. “Yes,” you agree. “Grey Worm did an excellent job at handling the situation. I’m thankful for his help and continued support.”

Your wife’s cheek twitches due to force in which she’s clenching her jaw, a sight that causes worry to bubble within your chest. Something had obviously set her off, but you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure it out. Leaning forward, you gently take Daenerys’ hand, releasing her white-knuckled grip on the sheet, and cradle it.

“But,” you continue, ensuring you maintained eye contact. “If it wasn’t for you, my darling dragon, I know that I would have been lost long ago. You’ve saved me from so much, Dany. You’re my constant protector, my most treasured companion, and my loving wife. I could never ask for, nor want, anyone else by my side, and I’m so thankful that I get to call you mine.”

The tender words, coupled by the unwavering sincerity in your voice, finally causes Daenerys to slacken, violet eyes going soft as a hint of embarrassment reddens her cheeks. Slim hands soon finding their way around your waist to pull you back into her embrace, head nestled in the crook of her neck, as she seems to simply breathe you in.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Warm breath ghosts across your skin, a phantom touch that raises the fine hairs on your arms. “I think the long days, coupled with being around boastful imbeciles constantly, has muddled my mind more than I would like.” Long fingers curl underneath your chin, tilting your head back just enough so you could see the beginnings of a smile curling full lips. “Even getting to the point where I thought you were hiding something from me.” Daenerys huffs out a laugh, clearly perplexed at herself, even as you feel your blood freeze in your veins. “And do you want to know the funniest thing?”

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, a suddenly dry throat trying desperately to make any sort of sound. “W-What?”

“I believed Grey Worm was in on it.” Daenerys rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I couldn’t help but notice how attentive he’s been of you as of late. Always being one step behind you at all times.” Lean arms, that hide a strength few were ever privy to, flex around your body, pulling you closer. “Can you believe I thought something was going on between you?”

Laughter bubbles in your throat at the outlandish insinuation — you could never want, or ask for, anyone else — but the strain around your eyes, as you desperately tried to keep it together, was apparent, but Daenerys, lost in her own thoughts, obviously trying to come to terms with how she could come to such a conclusion, didn’t notice.

You weren’t sure if that fact was fortunate or not.

Soon Daenerys, curled protectively around you, falls asleep, after a final whispered apology, her gentle breathing a soothing melody that you have grown to adore over the years you’ve spent in her bed. Normally, you’d be quick to follow your Khaleesi into the land of dreams, but her words, the thinly veiled accusations, the quickly shifted in self-deprecating jokes, kept the lull of oblivion from claiming your mind.

The very notion that you’d ever cheat on Daenerys was laughable — something that would never cross your mind, an annoying gnat that you simply swatted away without a second glance — but the knowledge that she believed you wouldn’t keep something from her unsettled you. Of course, you knew you had good reasoning behind your decision, but it still stung all the same; feeling like you were betraying your wife somehow.

Your wife didn’t have faith in many people — the ones she used to were either dead, imprisoned, or gone from her life in some other fashion — which left only a small handful left: Drogon, Grey Worm, and yourself.

The Summit will be over in three days. You just have to hold out for three more days.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force the thoughts, and the feelings they invoke, from your mind as you nuzzle closer to your wife; heart aching when she instantly brings you closer in response.

Just three more days, my love, you think, pressing closer. Three more days and then I can tell you the news that we’ve both been so desperate for. Just three more days…

It never seemed like such a large amount of time before.

Guilt, you learn, did not go well with pregnancy.

You weren’t able to be around Daenerys for long after that night — knowing what you did and what you were keeping from her — which was something that could easily be explained due to how hectic the daily life usually was in King’s Landing; now multiplied even further due to the Summit. Feigning different duties around the castle was simple, even if you missed your wife terribly during the long hours apart, that ache was easier to handle then the one that erupted every time you looked into her soft gaze.

The guilt, coupled with your own growing symptoms of your condition, caused your stomach to twist constantly, ensuring that you spent a large portion of the day keeled over a bucket with Grey Worm standing watch.

Of course, after the first day, when you only greeted Daenerys with a fleeting kiss to the cheek, and an airy greeting mixed soon after with a brief farewell, your wife began to grow concerned, her gaze often seeking you out within the crowded room of nobles and dignitaries. Uncaring of anyone that may be trying to talk to her, her attention focused solely on you alone, something you wouldn’t normally mind, except for the simple fact that you’d sing like a canary if she leveled you with inquisitive look one more time.

You hadn’t come this far to mess up on the last day of the Summit; the final meeting being hosted in the Dragon Pit, recently reconstructed to an echo of its former glory. Although your darling son refused to even grace the structure with his presence unless it was to deliver you and Daenerys.

“Are you feeling well, Your Grace?” The familiar presence settled a half-step behind you, his accented voice a relief over the miasma of varying conversations that were occurring as people prepared to head over to the Dragon Pit. “Do you require anything?”

“No,” you reply, side-stepping an obviously over encumbered stable hand, as you spot the hulking obsidian mass that was Drogon; the people unfortunate enough to have left their things where he decided to land were scuttling around him like frantic ants, his own expression one of boredom if it was ever possible for a reptilian face to showcase such an emotion. “I’ll be fine for now. Thank you, Grey.”

At the sound of your approaching voice, Drogon swings his head in your direction, crimson eyes lighting up in recognition, as a gentle croon rumbles from deep within his chest. The people around him pause their activities, afraid that he may lunge any second, but your son didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he lowered his head to give you easy access to scratch the underside of his chin, pebbled scales warm against your cool fingers.

“I’ve missed you too.” You smooth your hand out against his jaw, an adoring smile on your face. “Need to make sure that I carve out more time to see you in the future.”

You can’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must feel — what was once three was now only one — if the ache in your chest was anything to go by it must be difficult; something you didn’t wish for your son to go through alone.

A son, you quickly notice, that was now pressing his snout against your stomach, a low rumble sounding from deep within his throat, not unlike the croon he released earlier, but this, coupled with the protective glint in his fiery gaze, made you understand, with perfect clarity, that Drogon knew. That he had no doubt about the life you were now carrying.

“I know that you and your mama have this special connection,” you whisper, scratching his jaw. “Like the one that I shared with Viserion, but you can’t give her any hints about what you’ve discovered.” Crimson eyes flicker in understanding, his intelligence shining through. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold your protective instincts back for the day, Drogon?”

You knew, even as you asked, that it would be like asking Daenerys the same exact thing. Something that causes your stomach to twist once more. You could play off Grey Worm’s presence and increased vigilance, as he had been appointed to your guard until competent ones were found, but Drogon? Your wife would instantly be able to tell that something was happening, and it probably wouldn’t take her any time at all to discover what it was.

Which meant that you wouldn’t be able to fly with Daenerys to the Dragon Pit; something you had been looking forward to as it’d give you a chance to be with your wife, soaring over the city she had claimed, and may cause the growing suspicion to die within her gaze.

“Ready to go, ñuha perzys?” Daenerys’ lovely voice causes you to startle, wide eyes meeting her questioning one. “I believe we’ll be able to do a few laps around King’s Landing before the first people arrive at the Dragon Pit.” A charming smile catches your wife’s lips. “Giving us a chance to spend time with one another. I’ve missed you the last few days.”

The genuine statement causes your heart to twist, your stomach lurching, but you maintain your smile, hoping that you didn’t look as faint as you felt. “I was actually thinking of taking Nox.” You gesture to the dark stallion, his large stature easily seen over the fences of his stable. “Grey Worm has been meaning to show me something, and it’s on the way to the Dragon Pit, so I thought I’d just do both at once.”

While the genial smile doesn’t fall from Daenerys’ lips, the fire behind her eyes grows with intensity until it’s almost scalding across your skin. “Grey Worm?” At the mention of his name from his Queen’s mouth, the aforementioned man steps from his place in the shadows. Forever dutiful, even if it meant walking straight into the gaping maw of a dragon. “You wish to go with Grey Worm instead of me?”

Any other time the incredulous tone within your wife’s voice, causing it to turn almost shrill, would have made you chuckle, but you could see the darkness that was beginning to become apparent — one that had a propensity to turn lethal if it wasn’t dealt with appropriately — and you wanted nothing more than to chase those shadows away; to bring your wife back into the light.

Just a few more hours, you try to soothe yourself. Just a few more hours and this will all be behind you. You’ll be able to tell Dany and everything will right itself.

“Yes,” you reply, maintaining an air of obliviousness in hopes that Daenerys wouldn’t press the issue further. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to let Nox stretch his legs for some time now. You know how Dothraki horses can be, Dany. They’ll only get more irritable the longer they’re cooped up.”

Violet eyes shift from you, to Grey Worm, all the way to the aforementioned stallion across the courtyard, until they land back on you; the expression on her face made you glad that this would be the last day of the Summit, because you know that Daenerys was at the end of her patience, that she wouldn’t let you get away with this one. For now, as the sounds of various voices finally broke in through the haze of everything untold, and Daenerys allows herself to shift back into her queenly stature.

Even though, you knew, that it’d only take one more thing for the bow to break, and then nothing would keep her from finding the answers she’s seeking.

“Very well.” Her tone clipped, detached in a way that stings your heart, Daenerys easily mounts Drogon and stares down at you. “I hope that your journey to the Dragon Pit is fruitful, but do be prepared for the discussions that’ll take place once we return to the Keep.”

And, with those parting words, and one last gentle nudge from Drogon, Daenerys is in the air, soaring higher into the sky until she breaches the clouds. You wish, more than anything, you were with her and your son, but you know that this was the right course of action. Even if it felt like it was the absolute worst.

Grey Worm settles beside you. “I wasn’t aware there would be more talks after the meeting held at the Dragon Pit.”

“There isn’t.” Your stomach twists, meeting concerned brown eyes with a grim expression. “That was a direct summons for me, and only me, by my darling wife.”

The heavy doors of your bedchamber close with a sharp bang behind you, a sound that almost causes you to flinch if it wasn’t for the woman watching you from across the room garnering all of your attention instantly. Daenerys had already changed out of her court attire — wearing a simple dress instead of the black ensemble she had been wearing, the very one she had worn upon conquering King’s Landing — but she looked anything but relaxed.

“You’ve been avoiding me, dearest.” It’s not a question, simply a statement of fact, as Daenerys stalks towards you. “And I’ve been trying to figure out why. Why would my darling wife not wish to be in my presence? Why would my most cherished companion not wish to see me?” She’s closer now, close enough for you to see the rage that’s beginning to build in her slim form. “And do you know what I uncovered? The only possible reason I could come up with?”

You’re not going to like this. “What?”

“Guilt,” Daenerys snarls, lips pulling into a sneer. It’s clear she was trying to rein herself in, that her famous temper wished to unleash itself, but, even now, when she was at her breaking point, she’d never wish to turn it on you. Something that both breaks and reassembled your heart. “You’re guilty about something. To the point that you practically reek with it now. Of course, I truly don’t know what you could feel guilty about, until I remembered the conversation we had a few nights ago.”

Oh no…

She’s pacing in front of you now, a short line that doesn’t take her too far from you, but gave enough room to excise some of the energy bubbling within her. “A conversation wherein I explicitly told you that I believed you and Grey Worm were hiding something from me. Where you told me that I didn’t have to worry.” The sharpness in her tone, the accusation within her eyes, were like physical blows. “So, I truly don’t know what to believe. Should I believe my wife, who’s been pulling away from me, or should I believe my gut instinct and deal with the problem immediately?”

Your eyes snap to look at Daenerys, horror-stricken. “Deal with the problem? What in the Seven Hells do you mean by the that, Daenerys?” Stepping closer to your wife, when she doesn’t answer immediately, you can’t help the desperate lilt from entering your voice. “What have you done to Grey Worm? Did you do something to him? Answer me!”

“Begging for your lovers life already?” Anger twists her face, shrouding the deep love you know she has for you. “I haven’t done anything, but make no mistake that it means I won’t. I’m going to make that man remember that when you swear fealty to House Targaryen it’s for life, and there isn’t any room for dissenters.”

Lover?

An even more horrific realization strikes you like an arrow to the chest.

“You think he’s my lover?” Barring the complications that would already bring due to the environment Grey was raised in, you couldn’t even begin to comprehend him in that manner. Nor could you ever imagine wanting anyone else beside your wife. “No, Dany, no.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and move to settle on the end of your bed. This wasn’t how you wanted to tell her — over a nice dinner, after a nice ride on Drogon, or simply curled up together in this very bed — but you had created this situation and now you had to go with where it’s led you. Looking up, taking note that Daenerys had trailed after you, a gentle smile curls your lips and you beckon your wife closer.

“Grey Worm isn’t my lover, Dany. Nor will he ever be. I know that things have been tense these last few days, but I never wish for you to think that I’d ever be unfaithful to you.” Taking her hand, you tug her pliant body closer, even if you could still see the tension within the rigidity of her shoulders. “You are, and will forever be, my first, my last, and my always.” You place a tender kiss to her clothed abdomen, leaning into her comforting warmth. “Why would I ever want anyone else when I have my Khaleesi?”

Slender fingers run through your hair, the familiar motion allowing your eyes to slip shut contentment. “Then what has been going on, ñuha perzys? You haven’t been yourself and I still have half a mind to take Grey Worm to the dungeons to get him to answer me.”

Looking up, resting your chin on her abdomen, you peer into the violet gaze that you adore. “You’re not going to do anything to Grey Worm, Daenerys. He hasn’t done anything except be a good friend to me and faithfully serve me to the best of his ability.” Standing up, you easily maneuver Daenerys to settle in the position you had just been in, now looking down at your beautiful wife. “Which is something you’ve desperately wanted for me, if I recall.”

“Not if it means that I’m kept in the dark about you.”

The petulant pout causes a tender expression to fall across your features, love and adoration sparking within your heart, as you look at the woman that could turn the world to ash in an instant melting into your gentle touch. And, in that moment, you knew it was time.

So, without preamble, you take one of her hands and gently place it on your abdomen in return. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the Summit was over because it was too important to screw up, and I’m well aware how you get when my health is involved.” Your fingers ghost across her sharp jawline, watching as the beginning of her understanding begins to spark within her gaze. “Add our unborn child’s health too? The Summit would have ended like a Dothraki Wedding if you had your way, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

There’s a beat of silence wherein Daenerys digests the news, a multitude of emotions flickering across her face, before complete and utter jubilation takes its prominent spot.

“You’re pregnant?” Her hand presses gently against the spot you had placed it, wanting to get closer to the life that lay within. “We’re going to be parents?”

You grin. “We’re having a baby, Dany.”

Before you know it, you’re wrapped in the tightest embrace Daenerys had ever given you, happy tears staining the skin of your neck as she nuzzles closer. You’re well aware that she was going to have a talk with you about your secrecy at a later date, especially given the fact that Grey Worm knew before her, but, for now, she was content in simply holding you in her arms, the both of you sharing in the happiness the moment brought.

“Drogon won’t be alone anymore.” Violet eyes look down at your abdomen with utmost affection. “He’ll finally have a sibling again.”

You press your forehead against hers. “The dragons will be returning to Westeros, my Khaleesi, and the skies will once again be filled with dragon song.”

“And everyone will know the power of House Targaryen.”

“Yes,” you murmur, pressing your lips to hers in a chaste embrace. “As well as the woman who leads them.”

“The women,” Daenerys gently corrects. “For I’d still be lost if I didn’t have my darling Queen by my side.”

“And I’d never know that I was cold without the gentle flame of your love keeping me warm.” You lean into her touch, pressing your bodies firmly together. “You brought me to life, Dany, and I’ll never take the love you’ve given me for granted.”

Daenerys smiles. “Together we will bring back what has been stolen from my family, we will right the wrongs that have plagued this land, and we’ll ensure that our children will be able to reap the benefits once we’re done.” She smooths her hand across your abdomen. “Even if it means Fire and Blood will be paid in penance to make it happen.”

“Together.”

For one couldn’t be without the other — the Khaleesi and her Queen — as it always should be.

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 17.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. plot, angst, smut, very much uh-oh-moment

A/N. ruh roh

-> MASTERLIST.

The morning goes by in a blur, and before you know it you��re on the bus on the way to the big stadium. Atsumu didn’t even have to ask, opting to just take the seat. 

Unlike the last time, you two chatted the whole way down. You guys had to be shushed by a couple other players who were trying to nap, to which the two of you snickered.

Once you guys arrive, the Coach sends you on errands. Taking final notes on the Adlers, meeting with camera crews, grabbing schedules. You nearly broke out in a sweat by how much you were running around. The arena was huge. You definitely got your steps in for the day.

By the time you make it back to the team’s locker room, everyone is already ready. 

“Y/N, go ahead and fix yourself up and meet us out there for the pre-game interviews,” Foster tells you.

The rest of the guys trickle out and you can hear as they chatter with the interviewers outside of the room. Quickly, you grab your brush and fix your hair. Grabbing your oil blotting sheets, you dab them on your face before finishing up with some lip oil.

You join the rest of the outside before a woman with a “PRESS” lanyard walks up to you. The microphone is shoved in your face before you know it.

“How is it being the Jackal’s manager?”

“Not bad, I love being able to be apart of this team and the players make it easy,”

She nods at your response, “Do you think they’re gonna manage this Championships? Last year they lost against the Adlers,”

Your eyes widen a bit but you manage to put your best poker face, “Of course! They’ve been doing tons of practicing and have improved immensely over this past season,”

She nods once more, “Alright, thank you for your time!”

Once she walks away you can feel yourself become self conscious. Did you look okay?

A hand on your shoulder shakes you out of your thoughts, “How’d it go?”

“Atsumu! I didn’t know I was going to be interviewed,” you sigh, “I think it went okay,”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did fine,” he smiles, “the coach wants you, we’re about to walk out to the court,” 

You spare him a nod before walking away to find Foster.

You can hear all the announcers and fans from where you and the team stood. They were just finishing up announcing Adler's team. You peek out and see the light colors change as the announcers call the “MSBY Jackals” out to the court.

All the players run out, you wish them the best of luck as they pass by you. Atsumu spares you a wink as he rushes by, causing you to roll your eyes.

You and the coach Foster follow shortly behind as you two find the team’s benches. You cheer as they introduce the starting line up. 

With a blow of a whistle, the game commences.

Bokuto starts the match off with a strong serve, earning the Jackal’s the first point of the game. You go wild along with the crowd. 

With all the hardcore practicing the men have been put through, they easily take the first two sets. It’s a tug of war for the next two sets, the Adler’s pulling out their star player Hoshiumi from the benches, boosting their team’s morale and offense.

You're on your toes by the 5th set. Your inner cheek is chewed raw with how badly you were anxiously gnawing at it. It’s so scary, especially with how the Adlers manage a 5 point lead from the get-go. 

Fosters chooses to call for a timeout, leading you to stand up and help the boys cool down. You hand them towels, water, and any words of encouragement you’re able to get out. 

“Y/N,” Atsumu calls from behind you, and you can tell from his face alone that he's heated.

“Calm down, you were doing good, don’t let them shake you,” you take the towel wrapped around his neck and wipe his forehead. “Drink more water, the timeouts about to end,”

Atsumu nods before taking the bottle out of your hand, chugging it down before nodding at you and making his way back to the court.

After multiple grueling rallies, the Jackal’s manage to finally catch up, 10-9. 

There’s people booing and cheering, it’s all overwhelming. You just want them to take it home.

The Jackals continue to score, point after point. The Adlers are on their tail, but still can’t catch up to them.

With the slam of a ball, the stadium roars. 15-13, the Jackals have finally ended this match, crowning them the Champions of this volleyball season.

The men are screaming and yelling, bumping against each other as they cheer. Some are in tears and some are smiling so hard their cheeks might fall off. You don’t realize you’re crying until the Coach slaps you on the back, pulling you in for a hug. 

He releases you as a cameraman approaches him, allowing you to grab your bag from under the benches.

You’re in the air before you know it, “Hey- Atsumu!”

You’re smiling as you look down at him. 

“You did it!”

There’s no words spoken before he pulls you in for a hug. A big, warm, sweaty hug. Despite all that, it’s comforting. You hug him back, face buried in his uniform as you congratulate him.

You’re caught off guard when a warm kiss is placed on the crown of your head. You look up at him, confusion hinted in your eyes, before he releases you to join Sakusa and Meian in their interviews.

“Y/N, let’s go to the locker room while we wait,” Foster catches your attention.

“Yes, sir,” you smile.

Once the boys finish their interviews, the locker room is loud. There’s music, champagne being popped, cheers. Cameramen and their crew are shoved in there trying to get postgame footage.

You’re caught up in the fun of it all when Sakusa catches your attention,

“You with Miya?” he questions, a small smile tugging the side of his mouth.

“Ah-” you’re not sure why you’re surprised, it’s not like you guys hid it, “Sort of, we’re just talking,”

“I see,” he nods in understanding, “you should hop on the game, the other guys miss you,”

You smile back up at him and nod before you join in with the cheers once again.

———

The guys decide to not to hit the usual spot, all of them being tuckered out and ready to sleep. Meian decided that there will be a party at a later date, which you don’t complain about. You were ready to knock out.

“Y/N,” Atsumu catches you before you get into your car, “you want to come over?”

“It’s late,” you whine, “Maybe tomorrow?”

“C’mon my house is closer, it’s literally down the street,”

True.

You felt yourself being dragged along to Atsumu’s shenanigans once again, collapsing onto his bed as soon as you got the chance.

“Sooo tired,” Atsumu mocks before he collapses on top of you, nearly squashing you to death.

“F-uck,” you squeal, “I can’t breathe you pig,”

He laughs as you struggle to get him off of you. When he finally decides you’ve had enough, he rolls off of you, allowing the two of you to be side to side.

“Whew,” he breathes out, “I deserve an award,” he turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh,” you shove him, “in your wildest dreams,”

“At least a kiss,” he pouts.

You laugh, “You’re so ugly,” you smile before leaning into a smooshed kiss. It’s messy but it’s warm.  

It’s just a kiss, until it’s not. And once again, you find yourself falling into Atsumu’s trap again. He’s on top of you, and weirdly enough, you want more.

You’ll blame it on your stupid hormones and adrenaline but it feels like you need him. You’re tugging him closer and closer until you’re essentially one.

Your shirt is guided off, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” you hear him mutter as a hand sneaks under your bra to thumb at the nipple. 

You’re gasping into his mouth, hips rising into his as a plea for more. And he gives in. Lifting your hips, he tugs your bottoms off before tugging his dick from his briefs.

You’ve felt how big he was but you never saw his actual length before, and big it was. It almost made you want to back out, but the ache in your cunt begged for otherwise.

“Please,” you moan as his hand hovers over your pussy, “‘Tsumu,”

“So impatient,” he chuckles, “whatever you want,”

He slowly works a lengthy finger into your hole, curling it inside of you and watching as your face contorts with pleasure. 

Another one is added, stretching you out in preparation for himself. He works them in and out of you, cooing words of praise into your ear. 

You’re practically riding his fingers, hips moving on their accord as you fuck yourself on his girthy digits. Your relief is pulled from underneath you as he tugs his fingers from out of you. 

You whine at the emptiness, “please,” you’re tugging at tufts of hair on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, yeah, just you wait,” he mumbles as he lines himself up to your entrance, hissing as his tip slowly squeezes into your tight cunt.

Tears prod at your eyes as you begin to feel full of him. You grasp onto his back as he thrusts into you, dick plummeting your insides as you moan into his ear.

“So good,” you sob, “Want you,”

You can see him hide a smile through your wet eyes before he pulls your chin to face him for another sloppy kiss. Your bodies are in harmony as he fucks you through your tears. You’re babbling nonsense as he groans from the grip your cunt has on him.

Yes, you’ve had your own fair share of fucks, but it’s never been this good. His hands move down to your ass, gripping the flesh there as he continues to fuck you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Atsumu grunts, breath heavy from the force he’s using.

His words push you closer to edge until you’re gasping as you cum around his cock, twitching as your orgasm rips through your body.

“Holy shit,” Atsumu nearly struggles to pull himself from inside you, until white ropes of cum spill from his tip onto your stomach, the warmth of it on your skin spreading through your body.

Your head feels fuzzy, as the aftermath of your relief washes over you. 

Through wet lashes you can see him smirk down at you, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Atsumu’s gentle, compared to earlier, when he wipes you down. A soft, warm rag makes its way from your head down to your sensitive heat as he cleans you. 

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” Atsumu whispers as he works one his shirts onto your body, “I love you,”

After cleaning himself up, he finds a space on the bed next to you, tucking the both of you in. At the feeling of his presence, you move closer to him and tuck your head near the crevice of his neck. 

“I like you, too,” is all you are able to mumble out before the feeling of slumber takes you away.

———

Atsumu smiles as you fall asleep in his arms. He’s about to join you when a ping on his phone catches his attention.

Osamu [2:43AM]: yo have you seen this? {link attachment}

Atsumu clicks the link before it takes him to Twitter, and his jaw nearly drops out of its socket. 

It’s a picture of you and Sakusa walking out of the bar and into a car with the caption, “MSBY MANAGER SLEEPING AROUND WITH FELLOW PLAYERS? Learn more…”.

It wasn’t just any picture. It was one that Atsumu took.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Big Bird and his Cousins

(A/N): Thank you to @mclarengf for telling me about Big Bird getting shrunk and sharing the twitter thread with me

Summary: A small missing information nearly got Max and Lando into a fistfight aka this is my chance to tell more people about Big Birds eight international cousins

Pairings: driver!reader x f1!grid, but especially Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, Checo, Carlos and Zhou got more of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.3k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________

Most of the drivers have no problem with driving in the rain. But in a downpour straight from the seven pits of hell? That’s something even Max Verstappen says “no” to.

A considerable amount of the grid stays seated in the conference room, where they just got told that qualifying will be delayed by at least several hours. As soon as they were dismissed, (Y/N) sprinted out of the room, uttering something about a small bladder and long meetings and how they clash in the worst way possible.

“Have you seen what they did to Big Bird from Sesame Street? They made him tiny for the past week!” Lando complains loudly to Carlos while scrolling through his twitter feed. But the Spaniard is confused.

“I don’t know who you are talking about, mate.” He thinks for a second. “Oh, do you mean Caponata? They made her small?!” Carlos’ face lights up, remembering the bird fondly. It’s not something you think about every day, isn’t it?

Lando looks at his friend with a befuddled face . “No, you muppet! Big Bird is a yellow bird that is very tall.” Max, who heard the conversation involuntarily, because the Brit speaks passionately loud about this subject, turns towards the other two drivers.

“I don’t know what kind of off brand Sesame Street you two have watched, but the real name of the tall bird is Pino and Pino is pale blue.” His matter-of-fact voice sets something in Lando off. It just doesn’t sit right with him that Max acts almighty and knowledgeable about a topic he read something himself with his own two eyes.

He gets up from his seat, taxing the Dutchman with a belittling up and down look. “If I was you, I would get my eyes checked, because Big Bird is a bright yellow! Watch out for color blindness.” Max also squares up, getting toe to toe with Lando, getting ready to shoot back. “I can show you how good my eyesight is the next time I’ll drive an orange car with the number four off the track.” “It’s papaya!” Lando pulls up the sleeves to his hoodie, getting ready for a fight that goes beyond spoken words.

“No!” Checo intervenes, putting himself between the two drivers. In the meantime the majority of the remaining people in the room put their attention on the, for now verbally, fighting men. “The name of the bird is Abelardo Montoya and the colors are green, red and a bit of pink. Stop arguing about stuff you know nothing about. Also, I’m older. So I'm right.”

His confident statement attracts the arguments from Max and Lando. “You are absolutely wrong!” “Big Bird is not green!” “No, because Pino is a beautiful blue color!” “Shut it, Verstappen, or I’ll show you the way your skin will bruise a beautiful blue!” “Step away, Norris. You are like 12 and build like a stick. You have not the strength to show me anything.”

“Are you sure? Let’s take this outside and I shove a stick up you a-” “What is going on in the house of commence?” (Y/N)’s voice cuts through the noise sharply. The room falls silent for several seconds until everyone tries to explain themselves at the same time.

“Big Bird is yellow!” “No, his name is Pino and he is pale blue!” “No, she is orange and yellow and is called Caponata!” “No, it’s a green bird, you all know nothing!” “Sh, be quiet, Checo!”

(Y/N) sits down on her chair again and waits for them to get finished scrambling to find an excuse to defend their ego. “Did you ask Pierre what Big Bird looks like for him?” She smirks.

Pierre also smiles knowingly, all eyes on him. “We call our Big Bird Toccata and he is white.” Especially Lando tries to defend himself and his Big Bird another time very loudly. But (Y/N) is having none of it. She put her hand over his mouth, muffling his protests while starting an explanation of her own.

“Did you know that Big Bird has eight international cousins? They are part of Sesame Street from other countries all around the world.” While she starts explaining, Lando’s face drops. “While most versions have a yellow bird like the Big Bird Lando references the whole time, they call them different names. In German he is named Bibo, ask Hülkenberg. In the Netherlands, Brazil and France, they got some versions of Big Bird’s cousins. I think in China they changed his name to the literal translation of Big Bird, but he still counts as one of the cousins. They explain it by calling them identical cousins.”

She throws a look to Zhou, who nods in confirmation and adds “His name is Da Niao”. “The cousins also live in Spain, Portugal and Turkey. Did you not know about this? I thought it was common knowledge. It was all over Twitter a couple of years ago. Now I see the threat every now and then again on tiktok with some minecraft gameplay in the background playing.”

Max mulls over the new information. “This explains everything.” Meanwhile Lando is a bit more shocked. “So I nearly got into a fist fight with Max Verstappen, because someone in some writer’s room decided to give Big Bird cousins and never said anything in the show?”

(Y/N) throws him a confused face. “What do you mean you nearly got into a fist fight? Those are muppets from a kids show! How can you pick a fight over muppets in different colors? They are not even real? In what way does this warrant to get physical?”

Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit irrational. Maybe silly even. Of course, no one says this outloud, but the faces all around are enough confirmation for the female driver.

“Gosh, that’s childish. But on the topic of Sesame Street: Have you seen the tweets about Big Bird being shrunk? I need justice for Big Bird!” And so a new discussion starts about the sense behind Big Bird being tiny.

A few hours later the track is cleared again after the storm eventually cleared up. Qualifying can finally start.

The interviews after are relaxed in a way no one expected and most of the newer drivers have never experienced before. Maybe it is the collective relief that qualifying is over without any more delays due to the weather or other problems.

“Coming to the last question,” the journalist closes up her post quali interview with (Y/N), “How did you pass the time until today’s session started? Did all the drivers have another Fifa tournament? Or was it Mario Kart this time?”

The female driver laughs a bit about the joke. “Oh no, not this time. I wouldn’t play Fifa with them anyways, I’m too competitive for that and not good enough at this game at the same time. But I’ll keep the Mario Kart idea in my head for the next skyfall rain. But today I was able to educate the boys on some Sesame Street lore, specifically about Big Bird’s eight international cousins.”

The reporter has a bemused face on. “I never heard of them.” “There is a link on the wiki page regarding Big Bird, dedicated to them. It’s amazing and super cute. Look it up!” (Y/N) winks into the camera.

This is the story of how breaking up a close call to a fist fight between two very stubborn drivers led to (Y/N) being a feature on Sesame Street. And how the trend of #justiceforBigBird across many social media platforms became a thing afterwards.

[magicdustsworld]

༊*·˚ STRAWBERRY

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a bad habit of speaking the wrong thing at the wrong time — causing you to fall in situations you don't want to be in.

cw - fluff, Established relationship, awkward tension.

Satoru has the bad habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

You have lost the count of times that you were put in certain positions because your boyfriend just had to bring up the most ridiculous topic at the wrong place and time. Take last week for example:

Seated at a posh restaurant, you flick the pages of the menu. The dinner gathering with your parents and boyfriend, effectively commencing with little to no hindrance and the soft melody played just adds the perfect backdrop to the tranquil atmosphere. You are scanning through the dessert section when the light bulb goes off in your boyfriend's head.

"Are we out of strawberries?"

"Hm?" Your eyes meet the cerulean irises beside you. The lilt of your lips marks the subtle qualm, "I think so... The ones in the freezer are probably rotten by now."

"Not that, I meant condoms—"

"Satoru!"

Almost on instinct, your heel clad foot presses on his charcoal Calvin Klein, garnering a kvetchy grunt from him. Your eyes gesture across the table—right where your parents are seated—and that's when the cog wheels finally turn in your boyfriend's brain.

"Heh, yeah... strawberries..." He clears his throat, letting out a choked laugh, "They have gone bad– really bad by now, right?" You force a smile and he continues, "Damn... we better buy new ones, can't eat the old, of course."

"Ye-Yes, sure," You can only say that, eyes flickering over yo your parents who plausibly deter from making eye contact. Heat permeates your cheeks, a single sweat running down your forehead although the air conditioner remained on, "Shall we order dessert?"

"Right... what about strawberry shortcake?"

"...or something which does not involve strawberries." You manage to speak through gritted teeth, hoping to get the message across through your smile which is far from genuine. "I am sure there are other options."

Satoru's lip twitches, "Of course, Nagamashi? Dark chocolate is your favourite, right? ...or we can go with entirely something else." The exacted chuckle can not seem anymore unnatural. "Better try other flavours while we still have the springtime of youth."

You are almost on the verge of facepalming yourself. But you can't. There's no way this situation can turn a lane more negative. You look at your parents again as Satoru instructs the waiter with your orders. With a lofty shrug, you play along for the sake of just getting out of this enough awkward situation.

Right then, the notification pings on Satoru's phone.

He excuses himself to check it while you rake your fingers through your hair. Hopefully the tension will dissipate by the time the last course arrives.

You hear the heavy intake of breath from your partner and he puts aside his phone. "Something important?"

"Nah, just the heads up of your lingerie being delivered tomorrow."

[sun4r1nnity]

secret santa dilemma

second year!miya atsumu x fem!reader

oneshot, fluff

"That's a nice charm,"

"Huh?"

"That charm on yer phone, it's nice," Osamu says, nodding towards the little phone charm dangling from Atsumu's phone, which he's currently scrolling through. Atsumu's eyes shift to the charm, a tiny jellyfish with cute beads, triggering a pleasant memory in his mind.

-----

"Whatcha all think 'bout Secret Santa?" the class 2-2 vice representative asks, her voice loud and energetic, filled with excitement. A chorus of 'ooohs' echoes around the classroom, the students liking the idea presented by the girl standing in front, facing the class with a grin.

"But 's not even Christmas," a male student remarks, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Who cares? 's just a fun idea before the mid-semester holidays start!"

"I agree with that idea!" "That's a very nice suggestion," the voices blend, filling the atmosphere.

Atsumu remains unbothered, his attention away from the class vice president as he gazes out the window, his head resting on his palm. He finds the idea ridiculous but doesn't bother to oppose it.

"It's decided then! Everyone write your names on little papers, and we'll draw from this jar!" the class vice announces, presenting a jar—wait, where did she get that from?

Atsumu sighs, feeling pressured to tear a piece of paper and write his name as his classmates do the same. The papers are collected in the jar, and one by one, his classmates draw from it.

A figure stands beside Atsumu's desk, offering him the jar filled with papers, smiling at him, signaling him to draw. He reaches in, pulls out a paper, and unfolds it as the girl moves to the desk behind him.

'Y/N'

Who the hell even is 'Y/N'?

Atsumu surveys the classroom, mentally ticking off the names of classmates he recognizes as he examines each face.

"Who did ya get, Atsumu?" his friend, seated behind him, inquires, craning his neck to glimpse the paper in Atsumu's hand. Turning around, Atsumu asks, "Who's Y/N?"

His friend's eyebrows shoot up, a silent accusation of 'how do you not know your own classmate?' etched on his face. "Oh, Y/N? That's her over there," his friend gestures towards a girl sitting alone, her gaze fixed on her paper until her eyes meet Atsumu's, only to quickly look away.

"Looks like she picked ya too, pretty lucky, huh?" his friend teases, nudging Atsumu's arm with a playful smirk. Atsumu exhales in mild frustration, then turns to face the front and rests his head on the desk.Atsumu plans to stop by a convenience store before returning to his dormitory after practice.

He'll just ask the cashier a gift for girls and settle it quick.

The bell rings loudly, signaling the end of the school day. Yet, none of the students in the class rushed to leave as they usually do; instead, each one appeared rather enthusiastic, holding a wrapped gift in their hands. The air is filled with excitement as everyone eagerly anticipates exchanging surprises with their secret Santas.

Atsumu doesn't share the same excitement as everyone else; a paper bag remains untouched on his desk. He doesn't bother to wrap gifts like others do, as he considers it an unnecessary hassle for the simple gifts he purchases. The assembly commenced, with the crowd's chatter growing louder.

"M'kay everyone, we can start exchanging our gifts now!" the class representative declares, the vice representative grinning on his side.

As everyone started moving towards their recipients, a medley of sounds and laughter permeated the air. Atsumu's gaze searched for you, and he quickly spotted you as you made your way towards him.

The surroundings seemed to fall silent as you faced Atsumu, clutching a cute pink box adorned with a pretty bow, while he held a plain paper bag. Atsumu thought you looked really cute with a flushed face and a hint of blush as you walked nervously, but he quickly dismisses the thoughts. Your eyes locked with his as you tentatively extended the box, stuttering as his assertive gaze bore into you.

"S-sorry, Miya-san, if the gift is not to your liking," you said, watching him take the box and extend his paper bag towards you. Teasing 'oohs' echoed, and you were certain Atsumu heard them as well. You accepted the paper bag, murmuring a small 'thank you.' "Thanks… And sorry too if you don't like my gift," Atsumu spoke, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the warmth spread to his ears. He felt somewhat embarrassed, aware of the simplicity of his gifts to you: a small strawberry keychain and some chocolates, as if to compensate for what he feared might seem like an unimaginative gesture.

Atsumu sees the small smile on your face, and he swore his heart just skipped a beat at the sight. You walked away from him, uttering another word of thanks before grabbing your bag to leave the classroom.

He gazes at the box he has received, and as his hands begin to open it, a small box of cookies encased in a clear plastic container is revealed, filling nearly the entire space of the box, with a tiny bag tucked into the small opening. The cookies are beautifully decorated, each one a small work of art, and the aroma wafts up, making his mouth water.

"Yeah, got it from my secret Santa," Atsumu said, responding to an unasked question, but one Osamu might want to know.

"Oh? The one who gave ya the cookies? Man, they were so good! Why doncha ask her to make some more? I'm willing to pay for it," Osamu suggested.

Atsumu wore a look of disgust, annoyed by his twin's excessive enthusiasm for food. Yet, deep down, he considered Osamu's suggestion a good one, as it would give him a reason to approach you again. Osamu continued to rave about the deliciousness of your baked goods, eating his food, while Atsumu's gaze shifted to a familiar figure he expected to see today. You were passing by on your way to recess, and his eyes lit up when he noticed the strawberry keychain on your purse's zipper.

He pondered whether you would mind if he asked you to bake some cookies again and, perhaps, for your number.

[kyosopp]

❝  p1harmony as you bestfriends (them crushing on you) !!  ❞

warnings !! p1h being haters, intak lowkey out to get you, jiung indoctrinating you, soul being too cute for his own good, jongseob being head over heels ngl.

　　　　　　　　　━━━━❰･❉･❱━━━━

❪  ❥ .   yoon keeho,  윤기호  ❫

you and keeho became friends pretty early on in your teen years. the two of you initially met when keeho auditioned for fnc, you were there supporting your friend who was auditioning for the company and the two of you instantly clicked.

keeho always has something to say. this guy is not one for censorship over his personality, especially around you.

will say whatever he wants around you, even to your face. if it needs to he said, it will be said.

keeho introduced you to the boys after a couple weeks of their debut preparations, whilst himself and soul are like father and son, you also had a little attachment.

jongseob immediately cuddled up to you upon realising he wouldn’t get teased by you as heavily as he would with the others.

commence the crush allegations on seobie.

keeho is pretty protective, not necessarily overprotective but when it comes to you he will want his arms intertwined with yours in crowded areas (if you want) or for you to walk in front of him so he can see you.

he will send you selfies asking if he looks good and which ones he should post for fans on instagram.

older people think the two of you are dating.

keeho will not hesitate to tease you, or poke fun at you. he’s always judging you when you do something stupid but will he the first to shower you with compliments when you succeed or impress him.

❪  ❥ .   choi taeyang,  최태양  ❫

king of bullying his friends

will not hesitate to randomly push you into people you don’t know forcing you to profusely apologise while he laughs and runs off, puts you on the spot in front of food venders

if you even mutter that you think someone is attractive you better watch your back because taeyang is ruining any chance you have with them.

with that being said, he is insanely overprotective of you.

unlike keeho, taeyang doesn’t give you a choice on whether or not he’s holding your arm or not. he’ll randomly grab your wrist and pull you through crowded areas and hold your arm throughout the night.

when he’s not feeling evil and he actually wants to make memories you wont have to cover your face for during the retelling he’s the sweetest man alive.

randomly does things for you, gets you new bottles of water when he notices you’re done.

of course he’s sprinkled in loving insults (just the theo way)

❪  ❥ .   choi jiung,  최지웅  ❫

he treats you like you’re his favourite person in the world, which you probably are because you’re kind of the only person outside of the members he talks to daily.

he likes to paint your nails for you. occasionally complains about you getting your nails done professionally when he’s literally always in your shadow.

and just because you’re his favourite person doesn’t mean he’s not gonna be teasing you.

he will purposely indoctrinate you into listening to his music taste.

randomly clings to you then shoves you off him because he’a suddenly icked out by human interaction.

probably doesn’t want the boys to meet you too often because he’s worried you’ll like them more and he’ll be forgotten.

then he realises you’re everyones second jongseob so he has nothing to worry about.

❪  ❥ .   hwang intak,  황인탁  ❫

he’ll randomly talk to you about his celebrity crushes when you’re focusing on something but if you ever opened your mouth about mr. big matthew he’ll tell you to stop drooling over a man.

i mean, bm or not, don’t go drooling over a MAN.

he’s kinda icked out by the fact you’re into men. (ngl i see intak as a man hater, because it makes men mad)

he gets really excited when your plans work out together.

will randomly grab your hand and drag you down the street ignoring your pleas for him to slow down.

if this man gets a hold of a shopping cart he’s forcing you into it and pushing you down a hill.

no one knows if he likes you or wants you dead.

youll get a rare compliment from him when he’s feeling nice.

you bring his inner child out.

❪  ❥ .   haku shota,  白翔太  ❫

you met shota through jongseob after p1h’s debut, and for awhile seob refused to give you shota’s phone number and vice versa.

jongseob was tryna save you from the pain of tryna figure out his emojis

theo gave it to you to see how you’d survive.

you became shota’s best friend because you were able to figure out his communication will only slight help from him.

he’ll randomly speak to you in broken english or fluent japanese knowing you’re either confused on what he said or why he changed languages

stares at you in silence for no reason

enjoys getting to be silent and himself around you.

he likes when you ramble on about stuff and he gets to listen to you talk. he’s talked to jongseob about his liking towards your voice.

he’s the only nice one ngl.

❪  ❥ .   kim jongseob,  김종섭  ❫

being seobie’s best friend means that you’re obligated (by law) to play shooter games with him, if he’s too lazy to scavange around for his phone he will grab yours.

purely to play a shooter game he downloaded two weeks ago.

he makes cute usernames for you and gets you to high levels just because he can

(half of your users are higher prestige than his own)

you are like two peas in a pod, always going out to eat together, shopping together, when he’s making music you’re there helping, you dance together, watch the same shoes.

best friends with seobie means everything is done together

if either of you watch a show alone it’s being rewatched together.

randomly shows you affection, random hugs, holding your pinky, fixing your jewery when they’re not straight.

he’s made countless songs for you.

@ kyosopp | do not plagiarise, copy or brand my work as your own

[thunderingwisdom]

morning daze

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Rating: Mature/Minors DNI

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Reader

Word Count: 1340

Summary: You're used to your partner coming home late, and you're used to him lavishing his attention on you. It never gets old, and your love for him only grows.

a/n: mom I LOVE him!!! also I tried to keep this one as gender-neutral as possible, I think it worked out?

honestly i just have jing yuan brainrot-wrote this in a rush might edit later?

tags: mature themes, implications of nsfw themes, cuddling, toothache

Consciousness beckons, curling around you, pulling you closer. The morning light tries to reach you through the thin barrier of the linen curtains as you cling to the last vestiges of sleep. 

An arm tightens around your waist. 

Perking up, but fighting to keep your eyes shut, you try not to react to the warm breath ghosting over your neck, to the smile pressing into your skin. 

“You got in late,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. It was nothing out of the ordinary–he would either come to bed really late or not at all. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

His mouth doesn’t leave your shoulder; a long inhale is his first response, followed by a sound of laughter low in his throat. 

“With such a beauty in my arms, sleep itself insisted on postponing our meeting,” he tells you, hand ghosting across your ribs. There’s not a hint of sleep in his voice. He laughs when you squirm and moves to press it low on your belly, moving the sheets aside. 

“Flatterer,” you accuse sleepily. “Even an accomplished general needs sleep.” 

“Maybe this general needs the warmth of his beloved more.” An edge of possessiveness underlines his touch, his hand continuing its journey over your hips, leaving a trail of warmth that you swear you feel down to your bones. 

“…you have to go back soon, don’t you,” you ask resignedly, fingers reaching for his bicep, dancing over his skin. Old scars littered throughout, a story you quite enjoy following with your mouth. “Jing Yuan..”

“In a few hours,” he reassures you, nipping at the delicate skin below your neck, chuckling at the way your shoulders jerk. “Preparations for the Wardance are about to commence.”

“Perhaps these few hours would be better spent asleep, regaining your strength?” You grumble, knowing he would be fine but unable to help it.

“My dear, you severely underestimate the influence your affections have on this haggard soldier.” 

“And what kind of affections are on your mind?” You ask, amused, as his hand creeps lower; you turn your head to brush soft kisses where you can reach, readily meeting his mouth when he leans in. 

A rush of warmth low in your belly, familiar–it never fails to find you when you feel him smiling into your kisses. Which is almost always. A soft curve to his mouth, gentle eyes, leaning into your touch–a side only you get to see. 

“Whatever my beloved sees fit to bestow upon me,” he murmurs, the lightest of sighs leaving him at the butterfly kisses you leave on the corners of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. “Although, if you keep this up, my simple mind will surely be lured down wicked paths…” 

“Simple,” you muse out loud, turning over in his arms to see him properly. Jing Yuan meets your eyes steadily, giving you a moment to search his face. Tired, but in good spirits. “If our general’s mind is rendered such, what would become of the rest of us?”

“There are people more than capable of taking over. And we get to live out the rest of our lives in this bed, of course,” he responds easily, both his hands teaming up to stroke up and down your back. “I’m sure we could scrounge up a meal or two.” His palms slide lower, curving over your rear to press you closer. 

You laugh into his skin, sliding your arms around his neck. Questing fingers sneak into his wild hair, gentle as they rake across his scalp. He groans into the crown of your head, melting in your arms. “I don’t think I could live with starving you.” 

“A life spent between your legs is a life without regrets,” he says promptly, if a little dazedly. “Truly, that would be the one thing I couldn’t regret even upon pain of torture.” 

You roll your eyes, fondly yet exasperatedly, hands gliding down to knead gently at the nape of his neck. A burst of affection has you kissing him deeply, a foot sneaking up his calf. 

He’s not one to turn his brain off easily, but you know after all this time spent together that kissing him long enough will get you close. Whether it’s fierce, fueled by a need to be as close as possible—or slow, gentle, pulling you in with the desire to just feel. You’ve worked hard to give him this, a place to feel safe and shed his armour. 

“One of these days, I’m going to keep you here for days, coaxing you to sleep and filling your belly until you grow round,” you inform him, the hint of a playful growl in your tone. And yet, it’s your heartbeat that quickens at the darkness that shades his eyes. 

“Filling my belly? Not with food, I hope?” He purrs, teeth sinking into the soft flesh below your jaw. His hands dig into your skin at the sounds that escape your mouth. 

You long to pamper him more, kneading away the knots in his muscles and chasing away the shadows in his eyes. When you get the occasional evening together, you’re eager to spend it lounging in the tub, exchanging lazy kisses and tales of your lives before each other. Or you cook together, finding new dishes to adore or experiments to laugh at. 

The first time he let you sit him down and work a brush through his hair, he fell asleep in the chair. It relaxes him in a way nothing else can, even if it often leaves you giggling at the way he paws at you, pressing his face into your stomach. The claws of self-consciousness had long faded, with each worshipful touch of his hands, and his greedy mouth. 

That was another thing that came as a surprise. 

“You leave me unable to form a coherent thought, and yet I can nearly hear you thinking,” Jing Yuan comments, nuzzling your hair. “Rather cruel of you, darling.” 

Once he let himself settle into your life tougher, you began to see glimpses of it. He’s greedy–for your gaze, for your thoughts, for your hands on him, and the taste of your skin. 

“Would it help to know you’re the one in my thoughts?” 

“But of course. If it were someone else, I’m afraid I would have to put in extra work to eradicate the very thought,” Jing Yuan declares. A shudder climbs up your spine at the thought of him doing more work, although you being the focus of it might not be a bad deal. “Hmm, actually…”

“Who could ever find the space to slip into my mind with this greedy general occupying every inch?” 

It makes him laugh, eyes curving at you. “Now who’s the flatterer? And if you spoil a starved beast too much, it’s only natural for it to become greedy.” You feel his breath against your mouth—hovering, teasing. The intent in his gaze is clear as his prowling comes to a close.

“You’re right. I should’ve trained you better,” you lament. “Is it too late now?” 

“I’m afraid it is,” he tells you somberly, a twinkle in his eyes. “The hunger is ever-present, and it feels endless.” 

“I have food in the fridge,” you suggest innocently, fighting a grin as you tap his chin. Jing Yuan snaps at it playfully, and your laughter leaves you in sputters. 

“Good. You’ll need it,” he nods decisively, before turning you over onto your back, climbing over you with more grace than is truly fair. You want to sigh at the way your legs fall open, accepting his place between them. “I hope you won’t mind if I eat first?” 

He leans in for a kiss, then another. You want to tell him to get more rest, and he waits, watching you with a smile. But you love giving him what he wants and know you’ll get to hold him after, when he’s sated and dozing against your chest.

You’ll try your luck then, to keep him close a little longer. 

[biblomaniac]

Supercorp headcanon:

Lena gives Kara extravagant gifts not because she’s rich and money is no obstacle, but because that the only way she knows how to show that she cares.

Lena grew up and a largely loveless home. Any gifts she received were most likely only for show, or had a practical purpose. When she was young, Lena learned that people wanted her for three things: her body, her name, or her money. Buying expensive gifts for fake friends and temporary dalliances became the only way she could express even the simplest of gratitudes.

When she meets Kara, she keeps up the practice. An office full of flowers for a positive article and a company to keep Kara happy and employed are only the ends of an extreme spectrum. Lena would give Kara just about anything to keep her happy, although Kara doesn’t ask for anything but Lena’s time.

By profligate present #50, Kara has to put her foot down about the amount of gifts the brunette gives.

“What do you mean you don’t want it? I can exchange it for something better.”

“No, Lena. It’s lovely, but I just can’t accept it.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you want it? Is it not good enough?”

“Lena,” Kara can hardly explain before Lena is on her phone ordering an upgraded model in three different colors.

“They have red, blue, yellow, green, purple… Y’know what? I’ll get the first three and we can go from there.”

Kara uses a small burst of SuperSpeed to grab the phone from Lena’s hand before she can press ‘order’.

“Lena, there is nothing wrong with it! I can’t accept it because you have given me too many gifts already. I appreciate them, you know I do, but it’s just too much. I don’t need you to buy me gifts to make me spend time with you. I just need you, Lena.”

Lena is stunned for a moment before she drops her head to hide quivering lips. When she looks up, her green eyes are misty. Kara wraps Lena in a hug before any tears can fall. A few minutes later, when Kara thinks Lena has calmed down enough to speak without crying, she pulls away enough to see Lena’s face while they talk.

“Lena, what’s wrong?”

Lena keeps her eyes pointed to the floor, feeling ashamed at her outburst. Kara’s right hand grasps Lena’s chin just enough to tilt her head up.

“Look at me, baby. You don’t have to be embarrassed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

In a voice meeker than Kara has ever heard from the strong, outspoken woman, Lena admits:

“I just… no one has said they wanted me for me. Any relationship I’ve ever had has been transactional. I don’t… I don’t know how to show you I care without giving you things. You mean everythi—a lot, to me Kara.”

Lena almost lets the extent of her feelings slip, but she isn’t so far gone as to get entirely loose lipped. Kara wants so badly to scoop Lena up and just wrap her in comfort, but she doesn’t want to overshadow the initial matter at hand. She decides unfiltered honesty is the first course of action, then the comfort can commence.

“Lena, I LOVE you. I don’t need the gifts, or your money, or anything like that. If you never bought me another present, I would still care as much for you as I do right now,” Kara leans down slowly, pressing her forehead against Lena’s.

Lena gazes up at Kara, eyes watery and searching. Kara never breaks eyes contact, content to hold Lena’s gaze until she finds what she is searching for. It feels like ages have passed when Lena finally replies, and even then, Kara doesn’t think she would’ve been able to hear the CEO if not for her SuperHearing.

“I…I love you, Kara. Not as a friend, but as more. I wanted to show you how much you meant to me, in hopes that you would want more. I was too afraid to say anything; too afraid of you deciding that one day, you couldn’t handle being friends with me anymore. I don’t think I could take it if you rejected me, Kara. I—“

The blonde cuts her off with a kiss. It doesn’t feel earth shattering or like an explosion of fireworks. It feels like coming home. Lena squeals, wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck when the reporter reaches down just far enough to grasp Lena by the back of her legs and lift her enough to comfortably hold Lena against herself.

With beaming smiles, they separate their lips but remain pressed against each other.

Emboldened by their newfound comfort, Kara presses kiss after kiss to Lena’s face. Lena giggles, squirming away as much as she can while held aloft by Kara.

“If I knew all I had to do to get you to kiss me was stop accepting your gifts, I would have put an end to this when you bought me that ridiculously expensive coffeemaker that I never figured out how to use.”

“Kara!”

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Stephanie: I’m getting bored.

Stephane yawns.

*What a good prank to do to the guys?* (* - thoughts)

She snaps her fingers with a devious idea. She dials Barbara’s number.

Stephanie, singing: Big sis, want to play a prank on the guys?

Barbara: Finally! I mean… sure why not.

Stephanie: Awesome, I’m going to call Cass so she can hear this.

Cass, sitting silently next to Stephanie: I’m already on board.

Stephanie yelps: Jesus, forgot you did that.

Cass: Thank you. Now, what’s the plan?

Stephanie: I’m going to need some sedatives, rope and handcuffs just in case and… the single worse movie you can think of.

Cass: I’ll get the tools from my room, you two pick out the devious film.

Cass flips off the couch and rushes to her room.

Barbara: I figured she’d have the kidnapping supplies. What about we show them the Star Wars Prequels?

Stephanie: Nah, Dick and Tim actually like those… and Jason, he says it has good parts.

Barbara: I forgot about that, had to block it out.

Stephanie: Hm… Disaster movie?

Barbara: Damien shouldn’t be subjected to that. Nobody should, but especially a kid.

Stephanie: True. Hmm… what’s a movie so bad that it would drive even the toughest man insane?

Barbara, snapping her fingers: I got it! Round up boys and meet at my place at 10.

Stephanie: Perfect. Let the prank commence.

Hours later after getting supplies, Cass and Stephanie shoot Jason, Damian, Tim and Duke with tranquilizer darts.

Each boy toppling to the ground and being dragged or carried off.

Cass tracks Dick Grayson to the Wayne Manor and hits him with a dart in the neck as he’s talking to Bruce. The man falls forward, Bruce stepping aside to let him hit the ground.

Cass: Ignore this, father. It’s a prank.

Bruce: Nothing dangerous?

Cass: Not entirely, just bad movie night. The usual capture and force to watch.

Bruce: You picked out a good one?

Cass: Barbara did.

Bruce: Okay, have fun.

Cass nods dragging Dick Grayson by the leg while humming the Batman theme.

An hour later and the boys are tied to chairs watching a movie so bad but they can’t look away:

Dick: Why is the animation so bad?!

Tim: What is the plot?

Stephanie: There is no plot, at least not a good plot.

Tim: It’s just a bunch of food references and puns, it’s not even funny!

Damian: These jokes are beneath me!

Jason: Kill me again! I don’t want to watch this!

Duke: Eh, I’ve seen worse. Garbage Pail Kids is way worse.

Stephanie, devious smile on her face : Oh really?

Duke notices the batbros glaring at him.

Duke: I shouldn’t have said anything.

[hiroshiii13]

I need Bingge yuan harem. Concubine SY, especially if he was bride napped. I want Bingge jealous of his own harem bcus it feels like punching cotton the way SY’s well adjusted and unbothered.

Bing: WDYM HE’S NOT ANGRY I HAVEN’T TURNED HIS NAME PLATE?? WHY IS HE NOT SCHEMING?

I want all the hallmarks of palace intrigue!!

SY getting sick from a lack of firewood in his palace. ZZL, his servant, stopping BH’s palanquin at the risk of death. Bowing to the emperor to ask for an imperial physician.

And Bingge trying to be nonchalant, but follows after the physician, asks the royal kitchen to make the most precious nourishing soup. ((He eventually cooks it himself after being so worried)).

Bingge’s interest starts to build. Secretly going (peeping) in the royal gardens as SY spends his time observing the flowers in full bloom. Trying his best to casually make an entrance.

Bingge’s bday banquet comes along, with priceless gifts stacked as far as the eye can see.

SY (w/ no powerful backing) procuring a small jade charm and medicinal sachet with hand embroidered details. Bingge directly asking for where SY’s gift is and keeping it on his person.

And every time after they meet Bingge thinks SY would invite him to stay the night, but he doesn’t. Bingge doesn’t need to ask, he knows. Taking SY as a concubine was a joke. But now he was getting serious about wanting him, to want it. For wanting SY to ask for it.

So he pulls his wild nature back and pretends to be soft and harmless. He always flips his name plate but never stays the night. Sometimes SY plays the qin for him, or sings, sometimes it’s just sending gifts or conversations during meals. Bingge wants his company the most.

Hell, maybe I can introduce a common enemy which allows the northern and southern kingdoms to unite (and get my moshang fix).

SY decides to follow Bingge in war while the rest of the harem stays back. He says he isn’t as delicate and he would follow Bingge through this hardship

Bingge doesn’t allow this but SY sneaks out anyway. With only the clothes on his back, some food and a dagger he travels up north to be w/ Bingge.

(Angst) Of course he’s captured along the way. And forced to become a courtesan. They meet again with SY under a new identity as a gift in the name of diplomacy.

Bingge feels betrayed, all this time? Was it all for this? Was he meant to fall in love and give away his kingdom?

After months of not seeing each other, all the hurt, confusion and longing was surmised in Bingge’s “is he good in bed?”

And he didn’t mean to say that. Especially seeing SY’s eyes glisten and his lips upturned in a sad smile. But the diplomat said how well behaved he is, how good he is.

SY bowed down and answered “my services have always been top notch.”

They fuck. Not in the way he imagined; Nothing of that sort of slow and careful lovemaking w soft whispers and laughter. There was no tenderness at all.

As SY expertly swallowed his dick, rather than bliss there was a feeling of loss in his heart. His most precious treasure, how did he become like this?

‘Was this your plan, all along?’

‘You can think what you want.’

And with that there were no more words between them. Only heavy pants and bruising bites and lots of kisses.

There were time when Bingge thought SY loved him. Maybe it was when he tried pulling out and SY locked his ankles around his hips begging him to stay inside. Maybe it was when he willingly put his arms above his head as Bingge restrained him roughly or maybe it was how he looked at him, tears falling, back arched trying to accommodate all that Bingge could give.

But Bingge would not think of that anymore. The peace talks commenced, the world condemned this stupid emperor. Honey trapped!! By a male courtesan at that!!

Most changed their mind and thought that they would be better off being a vassal state, cursing the emperor.

What the world didn’t know was the rivaling kingdom never meant to let them off. As drought became worse and tithes more absurd, the people only suffered.

Of course SY has had been slowly feeding the North intel with the help of ZZL. 🤩 He used his unique position to learn their schemes but did not tell Bingge.

At this time Bingge was essentially on house arrest, to ensure that they would push through with the treaty.

The Northern Consort schemed while his husband raised their joint army, readying to storm the rivaling kingdom.

They battle it out, and the forces of LBH and MBJ win decisively.

SY looks for Bingge, afraid of being left behind, of being disdained for the rest of his life.

In true palace intrigue fashion, he comes in time, just as someone was about to plunge a dagger into Bingge. He sacrifices himself instead.

There was no need I love yous or I’m sorrys. He knew he was loved. maybe it was a change of heart? Bingge thought.

But talking to MBJ, Bingge realized how wrong he had been. How painstakingly he helped, hiding in plain sight. And through it all, how he carried it all alone.

ZZL tended to his master choking back sobs. He could not help but feel aggrieved.

‘I should have stayed with him, this was all my fault. I should have never listened to him.’

‘What do you mean?’ Bingge arrived shortly after.

‘My master, told me to buy food in the city. I knew he was hiding something.

He left me a letter saying not to worry, that he’ll be running after the emperor’s envoy.’

‘I looked for him but only found his horse and drag marks in the soil. Later I heard he was taken by force.’

Bingge’s knees buckled from the weight of this revelation but he still crawled towards SY’s bed. How harsh had he treated him the first time they met again. How cruel were his words?

As Bingge grasped that gift SY painstakingly made for his birthday, he whispered, ‘SY, wake up, I will never wrong you again in this lifetime. Please wake up.’

But there was only a deafening silence in response.

SY woke up 5 days later, thank god that dagger was not poisoned or it would’ve been a different ending!!

Bingge tended to SY since then, practically a roundworm in his belly. The harem could NOT even visit him for long periods of time lest they draw the ire of a very jealous emperor!

Food was always prepared by Bingge. A truckload of new exquisite clothes was received. It was rumored that SY was so favoured that his palace was inlaid with gold, silver and precious stones.

But more than changes since then, they’ve decided to return to how they were. Bingge would visit him while SY played for him or sang. SY would frolic in the royal gardens, but this time Bingge would accompany him.

And when Bingge was invited to stay the night? They lay a white sheet on top of their bed rather quickly, yet spent the night in an almost torturous simmer. Getting reacquainted w e/o bodies between lots of hot kisses, bruising grips and soft laughter.

The outside world thought it was a truly ridiculous situation. A foolish emperor who surrendered it all for a male courtesan. And a male courtesan who was worth a whole kingdom, yet haphazardly threw his life for an impending puppet emperor.

But as the story was passed on, and the truth was revealed, the once absurd tale was changed to a story of an enduring love between the emperor and his favored male concubine.

(END)

[befemininenow]

My coming out as a trans lesbian. (A message to my followers.)

Yes, everyone. I am "gay", or should I say, I'm a lesbian.

This may come as a shock to some of you since I would talk about "hot men" and even make captions about attracting hunks and whatnot. If you notice an absurd amount of those kind of captions surfacing this past week until now, that's because I was dealing with comphet, short for compulsive heterosexuality. In reality, I do not like men nor am I attracted to masculinity.

Why until now? One, it’s because I wanted to wait for the right time to come out and it was coincidentally on Lesbian Visibility Day. Two, it’s something I've been questioning ever since I found out I was trans. This didn’t happen in a day or two. It’s been years and I would have thought I was just pansexual. However, I was not sure whether I genuinely liked boys or if I just liked their validation. It turns out it's only the latter and I was questioning whether I was really gay or just gynosexual. I admit that getting positive reception from them turned me on and I could see the kindness and affection they displayed towards other women (something that really made me euphoric). But the moment you would place me next them for more, say, intimacy (I'm trying to keep it PG), I felt that spark turn off. Don't even get me started when they're bare or worse, send me D-picks (it's so nasty).

Now, I've never did any of that IRL. But, I've tried to interact with them through social sites. Not just in Tumblr, but in other sites like Grindr. If you ever think of creating a Grindr to meet, don't bother. It's hot garbage! All of them were chasers and not a single one was attractive. Only one "guy" seemed to be "cute"; it was a femboy, who was commencing their transition into a woman. Those were the only men I thought I was attracted to, but the reality is: I was only attracted to their femininity, but not their body or intimacy. Femboys are still men and I'm not attracted to men.

That got me questioning: Am I really only liking people for their femininity or do I genuinely only like girls? To make a long story short, I've never felt so much better than imagining myself being the lovely girl... of another girl! I always loved women as a guy, but now that I'm about to transition, being into women as a girl feels so right for me! No more comphet for me!

I know this is not the norm on these kind of blogs as the majority tend to be attracted to masculinity. However, I do want to say that even trans lesbians exist on the feminization scene. That leads me to tell all of you for the next update: You won't be seeing anymore new straight trans girl captions after the first few days of the next month. That's why you saw those kind of captions bombard my blog these past few days. It's just my way of saying "Let me just get it done with". I'm actually glad you enjoyed them, but I just don't feel any connection to those kind of captions anymore. I'll try to upload them when I can since I've been busier than usual.

Anyways, I'm happy you read this very long post. Even if you're not a lesbian, I hope this note at least gives you an insight on not keeping your true feelings locked any longer. Everyone deserves to be themselves. You should too.

Sincerely, Nikki.

[moamidzyism]

yours. (h.kk)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 1300 smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ˚⁺。˚ ୨୧ kai x fem!reader, established relationship, jealous and possessive reader, unprotected sex, simp!kai, kai who just loves his gf <3 [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

kai knows how it goes every time.

the two of you are at a party that you brought him to, but instead of socializing with your friends like you usually do, you are standing in a corner in the kitchen, sulking as your boyfriend laughs at whatever story they are sharing with him.

you were fine when the two of you walked into the doors but then all of a sudden, something ticked you off and now your arms are folded close to your chest, opening up only so you can sip from the can of hard seltzer that you hold.

it always starts out this way.

phase two commences when he slips away to meet you. he teases you. he playfully asks why you’re in the corner by yourself. he takes your drink out of your hand and places it on the counter behind you. he cups your face to give you a peck on your forehead. you roll your eyes and you reluctantly give him your hands when he flashes you his unbearably charming smile. and he knows that you can’t say no to him when he drags you back to meet your friends.

next, he wants to reassure you and make sure that you’re okay so he’s all over you when the two of you rejoin the circle. you’re enveloped by his large frame, the smell of his cologne lingers around you, and every so often, his lips gently find their home around your face — on your forehead, on your cheeks, on the bridge of your nose, on your glossy lips.

then something happens — and this part is really important.

someone always makes a comment about the two of you. and it always happens to be the same person. ugh, you guys are so cute. they quip. i wish i had a relationship like that. you’re not sure why, but everytime they do this, it always bothers you. maybe it’s their tone, or the way they cock their head to the side at the end of the sentence, that bothers you so much. maybe it’s the smile they give you after that is laced with so much venom that no one else seems to notice. or maybe it’s the fact that apparently no one knows how they weaseled their way into your friend group but since they made their appearance, they have made it a point to make you feel so uncomfortable every time you see them.

regardless, kai always looks forward to this part of the evening, especially when you sigh, give your fakest smile, and say thank you, dragging out the last vowel. you caress his arm and kiss his cheek, snuggling closer to him for the next ten minutes. and once your mental timer goes off, you let out the most practiced and performed yawn. i think we’re going to call it a night, you announce to your friends.

you say your goodbyes and you walk out hand in hand with your boyfriend. he opens the door for you when you get to the car, and now you can drop the pretense.

he can tell that you’re upset. not with him though, you’re never upset with him.

you don’t talk for the entire car ride home. the only sounds are the gentle hum of the car engine and the low indie music that graces the radio.

when you get home, however, the flip switches.

they make me so mad, baby, you don’t even understand. you begin, kicking off your shoes at the door. kai trails behind you, picking up your shoes, rubbing your back, trying to soothe you.

and the way they look at you, you groan at the thought. you turn around to look at your boyfriend. you’re mine, you lean up to kiss him. he hums into the kiss but you pull away.

i need you to say it to me— you’re mine. you repeat again and he repeats after you, almost like you have trained him to follow your every command.

this is the moment he was waiting for all night — when you decide to take your anger out on him.

he drops all the things in his hands and you drag him upstairs to your bedroom. somewhere along the way he rids himself of his clothes so when you push him onto the bed, he is just in his boxers. you kiss him more passionately, with more force. his eyes roll back in pleasure as you kiss down to this chest, leaving bite marks along the way.

you so badly want to be mean to him, tease him, maybe even force him to cum in his underwear. kai loves how selfish you get when it comes to your pleasure. you grind against him only thinking about getting yourself off. but when you sit up to look at him, you remember that you’re not mad at him. you could never be mad at him, not when he gives himself up to you so readily.

you especially love how dazed and pretty he looks when you ride him. your hips roll against his so perfectly and he feels like he’s floating. he needs to dig his nails into your skin to ground himself, to remind himself that this is real — that you are real and that you are his and that he is yours.

you lean down to kiss him, softly cupping his face. he relaxes his hands, sliding them around your waist and pulling you closer to him. the soft kiss deepens when he starts desperately sucking on your tongue. he is so messy as he moans into your mouth. his lips trail away from your mouth, peppering open mouthed kisses around the lower part of your face, sucking along your jawline.

you try to change angles and bounce harder, but he pulls you back down despite your groans as you push yourself up. he’s quick to apologize though: i’m sorry, i’m sorry i-i just he breathes out. i love you. he repeats like a prayer and he grinds up against you.

but just as he is desperate for you, so are you for him. you fervently roll your hips into his. you hide your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his collarbone as you edge yourself.

as if it is possible for the two of you to be any closer, when your hips begin to stutter, kai holds you closer to his body. it’s okay, i got you. he assures you as he digs his nails into your skin. he thrusts up sloppily and his moans fill the room.

please, please let me cum. let me make a mess out of you. you can’t say no to his pleas but the feeling of euphoria fills your body as you inch closer to your orgasm. the only thing you can do is choke out a weak, yes, please.

his eyes cloud over and your eyes flutter close when you feel his hips stutter just as a string of curses escapes his lips. he pumps his load deep inside you, spurts of cum coat your throbbing pussy, feeling especially warm against your sweaty skin.

he gives you both a moment to calm down before rolling you onto your back. you lean over to him to leave tender kisses all over his face, whispering i love you’s.

he pulls away to meet a pout on your face. where are you going? you ask him.

i wanna clean you up. he proceeds to stand up no, no, no, you protest, pulling him back down to the bed to lay next to you. forget about that; just stay here for a moment. you hold him close to you and you end the night telling him how good he is to you.

taglist: @dearlyjun @atinyniki @boba-beom @wolfytae-exe @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinyelfperson @wccycc @ryunjin0 @thejadeazalea @wayvisyummy @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @snghoonluv @itzzz-yerin @ujisworld

fill out this form to join my taglist! author's note :: i've been wanting to write for kai for so long omg, this is finally it. please go easy on me this is one of the first things i've written in a while so i'm not super proud of it.

[purplecoffee13]

The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 2*

Summary: “The official fake dating can commence, and so can the exploration of a whole bunch of new… feelings.”

Wc: 4.9k

Tropes: semi-enemies to lovers (she hates him)

Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, smut (f!receiving), a sudden deep analysis of wuthering heights followed by smut

*2 weeks later*

I'm going to move to Italy, seriously.

Ever since Harry and I arrived at the airport I haven't been able to stop myself from gawking at everything I've seen. That includes Harry's relatives, proving that his entire family consists of solely good genes.

The flight was excruciatingly long and a bit uncomfortable. Harry taught me as much as he could about his family, and we both complained about the hernia we were getting from our bad seats. Nevertheless, we both attempted to sleep, and I accidentally dozed off while leaning on his shoulder.

One of Harry's cousins, Matthew, picked us up at the airport. He was particularly fascinated with my existence, almost as much as I was with his accent. I love English accents, I could listen to them for hours on end.

Matthew led us to our room in the Villa and gave Harry a pat on the back before leaving us alone to unpack and get ready to meet the family.

"He's nice." I note, throwing my backpack on the Queen sized bed we have in this room.

"He's a little shit." Harry chuckles, earning a furrowed brow from me. He waves it off, literally, and sits himself on the bed. "You'll see."

We stay fairly quiet for the rest of the time, unpacking our stuff and freshening up. Well, mainly me, because Harry doesn't have to do half the things I do to look good. It's so much easier being a man.

I shoo Harry out of our bedroom and put on a long, brown dress with a wide slit and some floral print on it. As soon as I've changed, I open the door to the bathroom so he knows it's okay for him to walk back in. When he does walk back in, we both catch each other off guard.

While he is analyzing the dress that is currently clinging to my body, I'm gawking at his shirtless chest. My cheeks start to heat up when I realize that I'm staring, but luckily Harry doesn't notice because he's too busy staring at me. Then, he clears his throat.

"Nice dress."

"Thank you." I throw him a small smile.

It doesn't take long for Harry to get dressed and soon enough we are walking from our room to the villa, where the welcome dinner will be held, or at least that's what it said on the card that Harry handed to me on the plane.

We sit down at our assigned seats at one of many round tables. I don't miss the name tags of Harry's parents, and I'm glad to find that Matthew will also be sitting at our table. It will make things a bit less nerve racking.

Harry places his hand on the small of my back as he guides me to his mother. He looks just like her, and by the warm smile on her face, I realize that it probably won't be as bad as I might think it would.

"Mum, this is Y/N. The girl I've told you about. She's my girlfriend." The words leave his mouth in a way that makes me think someone is holding a gun to his head, and I can tell that his mother thinks the same thing.

"I'm Sheila." She introduces herself, nonetheless. I can tell that she is skeptical of me, despite the warm smile on her face. I know it's a genuine one, but I know that she knows her son, and she'll see something is up if he doesn't get his act together.

"This is Tom." She turns to a tall man that I immediately recognize as Harry's father. He doesn't have a lot of facial features from his dad, except for the nose, that is exactly the same. But the way he carries himself, the way he extends his hand for me to shake, those are the aspects that make Harry identical to his father.

We chat with his parents for a little, telling our wonderfully fake story of how we met. Tom keeps nodding but doesn't seem fully convinced. Not because he doesn't believe it, but probably because of the girl he'd rather have his daughter be with; the reason I'm here in the first place. Sheila remains skeptical, but that is just because she can see right through Harry.

So when his parents leave to get some food from the buffet, I'm quick to swat his arm.

"Ow!" He hisses at me.

"You're a terrible actor, do you know that? Your mom is totally on to us!" I say in a soft tone, but it doesn't discredit my disapproval.

"I'm sorry okay! It's hard to lie to her." He responds, and the confession makes my heart melt a little.

I let him off with a roll of the eyes and we join the queue for the buffet. During dinner, Matthew promotes himself to main entertainer of our table by telling countless of stories about him and Harry and all of their antics from back in the days. Harry seems slightly embarrassed sometimes, but he finds it funny nonetheless.

In an attempt to make me and Harry seem like more of a real couple, I take it upon myself to touch him during dinner. Just casual touching. Some hand-holding—above the table so everyone can see of course—and the occasional leg rub. It's only halfway through dinner that Harry finally initiates some touches to, and I have to bite my inner lip at the way his hand feels wrapped around my thigh.

After dinner, a few tables are removed in order to create a dance floor. People are quick to get on it, but Harry refuses to come along with me. Matthew doesn't let the opportunity to bust a move pass, so I leave my purse with Harry and get on the dance floor with him.

We have a big laugh, Matthew and I. He spins me around an absurd amount of times, dramatically dances the tango with me while a pop song is playing, and throws out some moves that I haven't seen since I played Just Dance when I was eight years old.

After a while I decide to retire from the dance floor and get a drink. Matthew offers to accompany me, and for a second I contemplate whether I should say yes. Then I figure, he is a part of Harry's family and I need as many of them on my side for this whole act to be believable, plus I'll be able to get Harry a drink.

We walk over to the bar and order our drinks, Matthew is quick to spark up a conversation as we wait for our beverages.

"How long have you been together again?" He asks, looking over at me with a smirk.

"A month, officially." I reply, and he raised his brows in surprise.

"Only a month, huh?"

"Like I said, officially." I tilt my head, a mischievous smile on my face. He leans over in my direction, with eyes ready to play, and I immediately start to wonder if the head tilt was too flirty instead of funny and playful.

"And unofficially?"

"Almost three months." I divert my eyes back to the drinks that are put in front of me, and thank the bartender.

"Is it serious? Between you two?" He asks, and I don't like the glint of desperation in his voice. Is this what Harry meant, when he said 'you'll see'? Is this guy seriously trying to hit on his cousin's date?

"Well, I cancelled spring break plans with my family, so I sure hope it is." I flash him a smile before taking the drinks and walking back to Harry.

He's sitting alone, despite most every seat around him being taken. Not talking to anyone, not on his phone, just staring into the nothingness. When I approach, he's thrown out of his trance and his eyes follow me instead as I make my way to him and hand over his drink.

"Whiskey on the rocks." I tell him. He smiles at me, putting the glass on the table and grabbing my now free hand. His legs are spread, so he pulls me closer until I'm standing in between them. He looks up at me, and the sole color of his eyes makes my hands sweat profusely.

"Are you having fun?" He asks, his head tilting just like mine did a few seconds ago.

"I am," I say, looking around a bit. "But my legs are a bit tired... Is there a free chair behind you?"

I squint at something that looks like a chair, but I can't really make it out from this angle. When Harry doesn't respond, I look down at him, and find that he was already looking at me. He grabs my waist and pushes me in a bit. Confused, I let my body follow his silent demands, and watch him sit up straighter before pulling me onto his lap.

My back leans against the table, and my legs are thrown over his left one. I hold my drink in my right hand while my left is slung over his shoulder for 'support'. My cheeks flush at the realization that my ass is right on his groin, but I try to make it seem as if it doesn't affect me at all. He holds my waist with his right arm, tracing his fingers around in a way that makes my body shiver.

My eyes fly to my left thigh when he puts his other hand on it, and I try to steady my breathing as much as humanly possible while the tingling sensation between my legs becomes too adamant for me to ignore. The low chuckle that leaves Harry's mouth isn't missed by me, and it makes me even more nervous. He notices, and strikes up a conversation about the party, his family and Matthew.

"He asked me how long we've been official." I decide to tell him. Harry finds it amusing.

"Really?" He smiles. "The fucker."

"What?" I ask, not really understanding how that question adds up to him being a fucker.

"He wants you, been eye fucking you ever since he met you." He explains. "He has a thing for unavailable people, especially if they're unavailable because of me."

"So he just steals your girlfriends? Or at least, tries to?" I clarify, eyes wide, and Harry nods. "How have you not been in thousands of fights already?"

"Never really cared about it." He shrugs. "Most girls were just flings or one night stands, it wasn't anything serious, really."

"Wow." I laugh in disbelief, and it makes me wonder if maybe he is going to let Matthew hit on me. After all, we're faking this. It shouldn't be relief that I feel when Harry's grip on me tightens as soon as Matthew approaches us once again, but I do, I feel relieved. A little bit giddy too.

"Hey, wanna go for a round two?" Matthew asks me after greeting us both. I'm about to decline his offer, but I don't get a chance to speak.

"She's busy." Harry says in a tone that makes my head turn to him. His eyes don't look as friendly as they did before, and the warm smile on his face is looking a little bit more cynical. Matthew takes the hint and wanders off, a bit of disappointment on his face.

"Wow, you really nailed that 'jealous boyfriend' act." I tease him, my left hand instinctively trailing to the back of his head, where I start playing with his hair. He rolls his eyes, pulling me even more into him. I shift in his lap a bit, placing my drink on the table and grabbing his glass instead.

"Here." I hand it to him. "You haven't drank anything since dinner."

"Wow, you're really nailing that 'caring girlfriend' act." He reconstructs my words, and I roll my eyes accordingly. He drinks nonetheless, and I snatch the glass from him, take my cocktail back in my hand, and turn to him again. I frown when his nails dig into my skin.

"Don't move so much."

My cheeks instantly flush. Right...

I am usually way more confident when it comes to flirting. I know exactly what to say, when to say it and how to flutter with my eye lashes in those ways that make men want to drag you to their bedroom. I can flirt with everyone, I'm not easily impressed. Well, except with Malcolm of course, but that was just because I had a crush him. I act like an idiot around people I have a crush on. But I don't. I don't have a crush on Harry. I hated him until a few weeks ago– no. Until a few days ago. I started tolerating him on the plane. Yes, the plane. Oh god, the plane.

"I–" I start a sentence, looking him dead in the eye while realizing that I didn't have something to finish it with. His green eyes along with the feeling of whatever I shouldn't be feeling while sitting on his lap is making me dizzy. "I'm gonna go get a drink."

I try to wiggle out of my seat — which is his lap, oh my god — but Harry seems to find this whole situation very amusing, because for some reason he tightens his grip around me — pushing me more into his hard-on —then nods at the full glass in my hand.

"I think you're good, love." He gives me a half-smirk like I've only seen those guys in the romance movies do and I don't like how it makes my heart pound. What the fuck is happening to me right now?

I look at him, trying to come up with some kind of response that doesn't end up with me sounding like an absolute moron, and then I get lost in his eyes. The loud music fades, and the only thing I can seem to focus on are his eyes and his left hand that grazes further up the slit of my dress. It's only inches, and he trails painfully slow, but he keeps going because he waits for my reaction and it's positive. He can tell by the look in my eyes, and by the way my grip on his hair is a bit too tight.

The tips of his fingers are dangerously close to my panties, and all of a sudden, the music becomes louder again and I feel like I'm waking up from a sinful dream. I swing my legs off of his and get up, my drink almost spilling because of the sudden action. I quickly place it on the table.

"Pee." I say, partly to myself and partly to Harry. "I'm going to... pee."

Harry looks a bit surprised, but more in a way that makes him laugh. I don't miss how his head shakes a bit before giving me a permissive hum. I begin to walk away when I realize a crucial detail is missing, and so I saunter back over to Harry.

"Do you know where the bathrooms are?"

"No." He smirks.

"Oh. okay. Uhm..." I look around aimlessly, hoping to spot some kind of sign. But then, Harry gets up, and stands in front of me. He towers over me easily, it's intimidating and hot. Two things I need him not to be if I want to survive this wedding.

"D'you want to go back to the room?" He asks, voice gone a bit softer. I nod before I even realize that I am doing it, and Harry places a kiss on my temple. Grabbing my hand, he leads us towards the exit, waving goodbye to his parents before we make our way back over to our bedroom.

The cobblestones define the pace of our footsteps, making a whole lot of noise to confirm us where we are. Not that I'd need those stones to find him—he's still holding my hand. I shrug it off, it's dark and he probably doesn't want me to fall face first into these little rocks.

Once we've arrived at our room, Harry walks into the place like it's his apartment, and he goes to occupy the bathroom almost immediately. I grab my white, floral pyjama set that I actually never wear because I like to wear an oversized t-shirt to bed and nothing more. But, I packed my suitcase with the knowledge that I was going to have to lay next to a man the whole week, so I only brought the cute stuff.

When Harry leaves the bathroom, some steam leaves along with him, and I quickly look away at the revelation that he is shirtless, again. I don't miss the amused sniff, but I ignore it nonetheless. I skip into the bathroom, lock it and take a very anticipated shower. A part of me hopes that the water would also wash this weird vibe off. Like if I got out and walked back into that bedroom, my hands wouldn't start to sweat at the sight of him on the bed.

Unfortunately, I am wrong. Because when I do leave the bathroom, not only do my hands start to sweat, but my heart also begins to pound. Fuck.

I'd actively been ignoring this ever since the party. This stupid feeling, thinking it was just me being touch deprived. But I'm not so sure now. Maybe I do have a crush on Harry. However, I can't afford to think about that too much now, so I shake it off and walk over to my side of the bed.

I throw a decorative pillow on the ground and climb into the bed, trying to act as if I don't notice Harry staring at me. He's on his phone, doing God knows what. I grab my book from the bed side table.

"Wuthering Heights, huh?" He smirks, and I can sense the pretentiousness from miles away. I look at him, then roll my eyes with a smile.

"Shut up, it's my favorite story."

"Why? Heathcliff is awful." He frowns, and his tone is a bit mocking. Not to me, just to the story. But it's my favorite story, so I take the offense.

"I just like the fact that it acknowledges that love can make you both whole and destroy you. That loving isn't always really the ending, or the solution. It can be a fleeting middle, break you in a thousand pieces and then leave it for you to pick up the pieces yourself."

"That's a bit pessimistic, innit?" He chuckles. I shrug.

"I think it's realistic to recognize that spite, anger, sadness, and revenge are almost always born out of love, or a lack of it. I think it's optimistic, actually."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

"Mhm." I hum. "Think it creates a space for empathy, does it not?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Harry frowns, as if I've just opened a new door for him. I smile at his face, full of contemplation over what I just said and I know that I'm inevitably screwed.

He should've bashed the freaking book so I could have a reason to hate him.

I decide that I won't be able to concentrate on anything anyway now that I have admitted these weird feelings to myself—and the subject of those feelings is laying next to me—so I shut the book and put it back on my nightstand. 

"Not reading after all?"

"Nope." I chime, my tone sounding way too forced. "Changed my mind. 'M gonna sleep."

I turn off the light on my bedside table and turn around to Harry who is still laying with his phone in his hands. It freaks me out that he is looking at me, it makes me so nervous, but I try my best to be cool.

"Good night." I sigh as my head hits the pillow. I finally look up at Harry—bad move—and my heart melts a bit at his sweet smile.

"Good night."

I am laying with my face towards Harry, mainly because I laid down like that and now I'm too scared to shift too much and look weird, but I feel Harry's burning gaze on me and frankly, it's making me feel incredibly tense. My heart is beating way quicker than it should and I have to consciously steady my breathing in order to provide my lungs with some oxygen.

"Harry." I finally say after three more minutes of tense silence, eyes still closed. He hums softly. "I can feel you looking at me."

I open my eyes, because suddenly I'm very afraid that I'm wrong and look like a complete fool, but he is indeed still staring. He doesn't look like a dear in headlights, he's just smiling. There is a sense of comfort in him that I envy, especially because I feel like I could explode right now.

"Yeah, well, you're nice to look at." He answers, making my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I quickly dart my eyes to his body so I won't have to meet his confrontational gaze — bad idea, bad idea! — and quickly find that staring at his body isn't going to help my case any more.

"Am I making you nervous?" He asks softly, in a way that you could almost describe as sweet. But it isn't, because I know he's reveling in this.

Out of instinct, I look up at him, wide eyed at the fact that he read my mind and my body so well. But I cannot afford this—whatever it is that is hanging in the air right now—so I shake my head.

"Nope, just frustrated." I sigh, which is more a way to get my breathing back to normal. I pull myself up and turn around, my back now towards him, and hope to have closed the conversation for tonight. There is some shuffling from the other side and for a moment I think I did it, I think I won, but then I feel a hand sneak around my bare waist and my mind turns into jelly.

I suck in a sharp breath at the touch of his cold hand and the heat of his mouth on my ear, and swallow a whine at the way it's making my head spin.

"Do you need me to help you relax?" He whispers, and I suck in a deep breath.

"I– I need to sleep." I attempt to reason — mainly with myself — and Harry just chuckles.

"I can think of a way to tire you out." He insinuates smugly and I clench my jaw at his stupid charisma and how well it's working on me.

"Harry, I can't..." I begin the sentence, even though I have no logical argument to say no right now. I want him, really bad but a part of me is forbidding it for reasons unknown, which makes me want it even more. You know what they say about forbidden fruit...

"What? Would you rather be with my cousin? Have him get you off, hmm?" He asks a bit condescendingly, which makes me think the jealous act maybe wasn't such an act after all. His thumb is now circling over my hips and it's making me dizzy, which is exactly what he's trying to do to me.

"No–"

"No?" He plays dumb. His hand lowers to my pyjama shorts and starts playing with it's elastic band. My stomach is on fire and my pussy is aching, it's getting too much for me to brush off. I can't not get off, it's going to kill me. I need life support.

"No!" I whine. He chuckles, kisses my ear lobe.

"That's right... you came to me when he started hitting on you. Such a good, sweet, loyal girl. Sitting on my lap so nicely. Making me so fucking hard..." He taunts, and I start squirming under his touch.

"Harry..." I cry out, because frankly, I can't take another second of this torture. I'm about to implode if he doesn't touch me where I need it between now and twenty seconds.

"What is it sugar?" I can quite literally hear his grin and I groan at the irritating pet name. I grab his arm and try to get out from under his touch, but his grip only tightens on me and he pulls me back into him, cock pressed against my ass. He hums disapprovingly.

"No, feel what you did to me." He leans over to look at me and when our eyes catch, I think my heart malfunctions. "'S not very nice, now is it?"

I shake my head, biting my lip nervously. His eyes dart from mine to my mouth as he breaths out a 'fuck', and he wipes some hair out of my face with his free hand.

He pulls his body away from mine and for a moment I feel like I could cry, but he distracts me by laying me on my back and throwing the sheets off our bodies. He then quickly slips his hand in my pants, grazing his fingers over my underwear.

I look at him, desperately waiting for his next move while he studies my body with a light frown. My eyes go to his sweatpants, and see the straining bulge that hides in it. I go to touch him, offer him some release too but he swats my hand away. The stern look on his face gives me shivers.

"I didn't say you could touch me, now did I?" He states, rubbing his middle finger over my clit, and I curse my underwear for being the only thing that stands in the way of his real touch. Nevertheless, I moan, because he could literally blow on my underwear and I would come right then and there.

"'M sorry." I say softly, shifting when Harry starts to pull down my shorts and underwear. He inspects me, or at least that's what it looks like, and a grin grows on his face.

"I think you'll make it up to me just fine." He beams and starts to circle my clit, causing my hips to shoot up in surprise. He chuckles softly.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He asks and I nod immediately. My eyes begin to feel heavy and I don't know for how much longer I will be able to keep going.

"Harry, slow down or I'm gonna..." I can't get the sentence out because he only starts rubbing faster, and my eyes shut permanently.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me already?" Harry taunts, and I bite my lip to steady the volume of the moans that are leaving my mouth.

"Ah! Oh my– Harry!" I try to sound angry but it's really just me moaning his name very aggressively and the realization that it's his fingers on my clit right now is what sends me over the edge. The explosion feels overdue, and it washes away all the unnecessary tension I'd been feeling since I started fake dating Harry. And now I realized; it was probably sexual frustration.

I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing as well as I possibly can. My legs are shaking and I can feel Harry hovering over me. His body heat warms my cheeks as he hangs over me, leaning on the bed with one arm, holding my face with the other.

"Open your eyes baby." He says softly, and it makes my heart flutter. I am in deep, deep trouble. I do as he says, my eyes meeting his, and the smile on his face makes me feel like I'll melt through the bed.

"You okay?" He asks, stroking my cheek. I nod, head still woozy but not wanting us to stop any time soon.

"I'm okay." I give him verbal confirmation, knowing it's what he needs from me. He kisses my temple, whispers 'good girl' in my ear and moves away from my face.

As soon as I have my breathing a bit under control, my hands reach for his sweatpants, but he Harry grabs my wrists and pushes me away. I frown, and I have to admit that my ego is a bit hurt. I feel like he can see it in my face, because he is quick to explain.

“Believe me I would love to, but another night, okay? Tonight was just for you.”

I can quite literally feel my entire body melt at his words, and it doesn’t help when he gets off the bed and helps me up so I can go to the bathroom.

After I’m done and enter the room again, he is sat up straight at the edge of the bed, and looks at me expectantly. I shoot him an awkward smile and get back into bed. He does the same and we lay silently in the dark for a while.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” I can’t help but ask, feeling like I should return the favor, and still insecure about the fact that he doesn’t want me to.

“Patience, sugar.” He says lowly, and my heart thuds at the kiss I feel being planted on my forehead. The amount of calm I feel is unmatched, and it makes me very sleepy.

“Whatever you say, hot stuff…”

Part 3

[82mitsu]

{18Trip} <CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A: Sun will R1ze!> 001-A01 Inauguration of the 0th Ward Mayor

A translation of 18TRIP's CHAPTER 001 SIDE-A by 82mitsu. ENG proofreading by sasaranurude.

Opening note:

I am playing with the male player character, canon name Kaede Hamasaki, and will be simply referred to as Kaede in the translation. It’s a choice made due to the characters referring to the player character in their own ways (switching between first & last name, using honorifics) and I don’t want to make it sound clunky by using “player” or “MC”, or alter when first or last name is used (due to the importance of it in the JPN language). However, the gender of the player character has 0 impact on the story, and the experience is the same regardless of male or female main character.

The morning comes.

No matter how painful the days you live through are. Even when you can’t see ahead within the darkness.

The sun is born anew every day and shines a light upon you as you are without pretense.

However, basking in the bright sunshine sometimes brings hope to our hearts, too.

Try to look ahead and walk.

If you can walk ahead with just one step, it will feel as if you can start the long journey that we call life.

Which makes today, without a doubt, a new beginning in my life.

TV station announcer: Here we are at the venue for the inauguration of HAMA’s 0th Ward Mayor. After being unable to meet the quota of tourists for two years in a row, HAMA is now drawing attention to the question of whether it can remain a special tourism ward or not.  

TV station announcer: Please look at this! There’s crowds of people at the venue and surrounding area—expectations for today's inauguration of the 0th Ward Mayor can be heard from all over! We will continue to report onsite! 

Kaede: (Even national TV stations are reporting on the inauguration… It’s a bigger deal than I imagined. It's a given when you think about it more thoroughly. Whether HAMA can remain a special tourism ward or not has caught the attention of each and every region.)

Kaede: (Kafka replacing his father, who served as the 0th Ward Mayor up until now, on such a big stage… I wonder if he isn’t nervous about it. Uweh, I feel the stress in my stomach.)

Kaede: (But! That difficult surgery was an easy success, and the rehabilitation also went great. If it’s Kafka we’re talking about… I’m sure it’ll be okay!)

Host: Uuuh, all ward residents of HAMA, the inauguration will commence shortly. To open the ceremony, the current 0th Ward Mayor Oguro Rihito and HAMA’s auditor, the 8th Mayor Ward of Tokyo, Shigematsu Hakkei will be taking the podium.

HAMA ward resident A: The change really is happening. Well… the current Ward Mayor wasn’t reliable, to be honest…

HAMA ward resident B: But look at that, his replacement is his son, no? I heard that he’s only 20 years old. Will this be okay?

HAMA ward resident C: My place keeps on bleeding customers since last year… If the special tourism ward status is revoked this year, then HAMA’s done for. Just ask yourself how many restaurants have gone outta business this year. 

HAMA ward resident A: Financial support from the capital is as minimal as it can get… Makes you wonder if swapping out the Ward Mayor will do any good. 

HAMA ward resident D: The special tourism ward collapses… taxes rise up to the heavens… companies stoop to bankruptcy… the end of life……  ruination destruction eradication extinction…

Kaede: (Uuuh… all this negativity left and right… But, I do understand everyone’s worries.)

Kaede: (Kafka’s dad… he’s a good person, but he honestly, genuinely doesn’t have the capability to be in charge. He’s the type to get deceived because he’s too nice for his own good…) 

Kaede: (Kafka is the one that’s more fit for this role than his dad, I think… Even then, we only have a year left in terms of time. Just how does Kafka intend to get over such a high hurdle?)

Kaede: (Still, it’s already set in stone that Kafka and I will restore HAMA together. Today’s inauguration has gotta make us understand what Kafka’s thinking. Let’s hear him out!)

Host: Thank you for waiting! The one who will assume the new role as Ward Mayor, Oguro Kafka, will take the podium!

Kafka: It’s a pleasure to meet you all, ward residents. As he said, I am Oguro Kafka. From now on I will be conducting the succession ceremony for the 0th Ward Mayor.

HAMA ward resident C: Seriously man, that guy really is just a lil’ kid. Look at that guy, Tokyo’s 8th Ward Mayor’s face. Disapproval is written all over it. 

HAMA ward resident B: It is said that supervisor Shigematsu-san is relentless. The special tourism ward will be gone with the wind if that man’s tourism reviews are low…

HAMA ward resident D: An explosion from Tokyo’s 8th Ward Mayor’s glare… An explosion from the disdain for the 0th Ward Mayor… An explosion of the unlivable city of HAMA…. An explosion for the special tourism ward to fall…  An explosion to end all that lives…

Kaede: (Uwawah… the worst of worst impressions…! I wonder if Kafka’s holding up.)

Kafka: Ahem. I am hearing concerns being voiced from all over. And of course there would be, since everyone has to be wondering what a little boy ignorant of the world can even do on his own.

Rihito: Ka- Kafka…!? The script says here that we succession should go peacefully. W-what’s the matter….!?

Kafka: Aaah, it’ll be okay, dad. Don’t let the sweat start forming obvious drops on your face.

Hakkei: Hmph, it seems that your son has no intention to properly put the effort in to begin with, Rihito. Are you truly going to pass your position as the 0th Ward Mayor to him?

Kafka: No need to be concerned. Esteemed 8th Ward Mayor of Tokyo. My father and I have discussed between ourselves that, if my surgery were a success, I would inherit his role as Ward Mayor. I ask if you could please refrain from suddenly interfering in decisions made between a parent and their child.   

Hakkei: Decisions made between family? This is a concern that will influence HAMA in its entirety—that I happen to have no say in the matter leaves me astonished.

Hakkei: Looks like someone has forgotten that the one who makes the final decision on how the financial support from the capital is distributed is no other than me. 

Kafka: Financial support… hmm.

HAMA ward resident A: Hey hey, aren’t they kinda fighting on stage? Tension’s been rough since the beginning…

HAMA ward resident D: Current Ward Mayor shaking… New Ward Mayor glaring… Tokyo’s Ward Mayor unrelenting… A sign of HAMA’s ending… 

Host: W-we’re moving on to the succession ceremony now! By your leave I, the host, will recite the statement of succession!

Host: Current 0th Ward Mayor, Oguro Rihito, will pass the torch of his authority over leading the tourism industry in all of HAMA’s 18 wards to the new 0th Ward Mayor Oguro Kafka—  

Host: Oguro Kafka takes the role of the new 0th Ward Mayor, and under the fair Law of Tourism, will engage in HAMA’s tourism industry, and lead all Ward Mayors of each ward. Can each party involved take the pledge? 

Rihito: Ah, h-have to follow the script… Yes! I pledge to transfer all authority to the new 0th Mayor Ward.

Kafka: It is an utmost honor that I will gladly accept.

Host: 8th Ward Mayor of Tokyo, Shigematsu Hakkei, in accordance with Law of Tourism, auditor of HAMA as supervisor of the special tourism ward, will give guidance and submit appropriate reviews of tourism to the state. Can the individual party involved take the pledge?

Hakkei: It is most likely that this function will be terminated by the end of this year. Be as that may, it is my assignment. As supervisor, I pledge to my role as a fair auditor.

Kafka: You’re retiring this year? So that means we’ll have a different supervisor next year~

Hakkei: Such impudence… 

Kaede: (T-the mood in the room is in the ditches…! Even though we can hear everything both of them are saying—don’t fight in front of the public…)

Host: N-now then, the insignia from the current Ward Mayor will be entrusted to the new 0th Ward Mayor!

HAMA ward resident B: Thought he was a kid too big for his britches, but… he’s a kid with more guts than we thought, right?

HAMA ward resident A: He might do things more properly than Rihito-san did…

HAMA ward resident B: That reminds me, their mother who passed away was a genius scientist… His appearance resembles hers quite well.

Kafka: Eeeh, I’m Oguro Kafka who has taken up the position of 0th Mayor Ward. To everyone in attendance, I will be discussing matters concerning the management of HAMA going forward. First of all…

Kafka: HAMA will fully cease accepting special financial support from the prefecture of Tokyo!

Kaede: (….Eeeeh!? What’s your aim here, Kafka—-!)

next chapter>>

chapter 001 side A directory: TBA upon completion