#and I feel like he is going to be very mad to see me there

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon/dubcon, angst, unwanted pregnancy, blackmail, ish-baby trapping

part one

fem reader

You went cold and forgot how to breathe.

When you got to the kindergarten, they told you his father had already come and collected him early. All looking at you as though you were crazy, assaulting the daycare workers with your hands in a bruising grip, shaking her by her shoulders—demanding she tell you where he took him. 

She spilled the name of some family restaurant down the road and said he’d wanted you to join them there. The poor thing was on the verge of tears when you let go.

Rushing out, you all but ran down the streets before pushing yourself through the doors—cold-sweating and swivel-eyed—in a panic, scanning faces with his name coming out weak under your breath. 

With your vision spinning, you felt faint before you heard it.

“Mommy! Mommy! You’re here! Look! I’m King of the castle!” he shouted, and your peeled eyes snapped to see him up high in a bright red plastic tower.

But before your shoes could hit the soft foam of the playground, you were intercepted by something larger.

“He’s fine,” he said under his breath, catching and stopping you in your beeline, holding you by the waist. “I need to talk to you.”

Something old and instinctive didn’t bother paying him heed—as if forgetting how to speak, you just ignored him in favor of pushing past him, eyes glued to the sight of your son blissfully unaware, playing with other kids with an oblivious smile on his face. But his grip was stronger than your instincts, firm enough to keep you still but not enough to hurt you, even when you tried twisting yourself free.

“Come on,” he urged.

You were about to sneer something, finally looking at his face—that face you hated—but the bark of curse words got held back.

“Look around you. Let’s not cause a scene.” The wild animal within went silent while your eyes flickered around at the surrounding picnic tables where families were having their dinner. “We can talk outside. My assistant will look after him.”

You didn’t feel much inclined to listen, but still, even though it made you hate to fold on his behest—reluctantly, you accepted the sense of what he was saying. Looking back at your son still laughing up in his tower with cinched brows. You didn’t want to scare him when he didn’t know what was going on, even though you felt the need to scream at the very top of your lungs.

You allowed him to lead you outside, but as soon as the fresh air welcomed your rigid state, you were at once whipping around and pushing him away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” snarling at him. “How fucking dare you?!”

“Calm down. He might still see us,” he hushed, hands raised in halfhearted surrender, casting a nod to the glass walls separating you from the frivolity inside. “Let’s just talk rationally.”

“Rationally?!” you scoffed in a shout, eyes still manic. “You fucking kidnapped my son, you psycho-”

“You wouldn’t answer my texts or calls,” he snubbed. “He’s my son too-”

“Fuck you,” you interrupted to return the favor. “If you fuck with me on this, I swear I’ll ruin you.” You had a finger raised at him, breathing furiously—looking down-right mad—sweaty and disheveled from your run with your face twisted with such a state of frenzy. “I’ll tell everyone how I got him in the first place!”

Despite the threat, he didn’t seem all that fazed. 

“Think about it…” he said calmly, much in contrast to you. “Who do you think people will believe? A teenage mom abusing her son for a paycheck or his estranged father wanting to provide for him?”

You blanched, and before anything else made it out—whether it be more rage or something else, he was already further silencing you.

“Not to mention… the trial would be gruesome, and Junior would have to grow up with it always hanging over his head—is that really what you want?”

You look at him, and you still can't believe it. How could it have turned out like this? You’d been perfect only a month ago before he’d shown up at your apartment.

You thought you’d sent him on his way for good that day, but only now did you realize he had no plans to leave you alone.

“Come, let’s talk in the car. It’s cold, and you’re not dressed,” he ushered, taking your arm again where you stood, stunned and still, trying to wrap your head around his threats. Letting yourself be led into the black vehicle standing perfectly parked in its neat white rectangle.

You both got in the back with enough room to battle your homey sofa nook at home.

“I don’t want this to get ugly,” he started anew—his voice still so irritatingly calm, unfairly so. “I just want to see my son-”

“He’s not yours,” you croaked, feeling the situation slip from your fingers—battling a drumming heart, shifty breaths, and the mean sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“If you try and keep him from me, I’ll sue for full custody. And given I’m the only one out of us who isn’t a pro-bono case and the only one with any future that isn’t managing a register, I’d say I have a pretty fair shot at winning.”

You can’t keep from bursting out crying then, overwhelmed by the fear of losing the only thing that mattered and the pure disgust of the man who’d given it to you. It felt like everything was tearing—your whole life—crumbling before your eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, his hand coming to drape your hunched shoulders where you held your tears. “I don’t want to take him away from you…” His attempt did little to comfort you, but the next words had your heart grasping for what little hope they offered. “And I’m not going to either.”

You looked at him through the hurt of swollen eyes, tears still falling while he wiped them away with the course pad of his thumb—rubbing your cheek affectionately. In any other circumstance, you’d surely slap him, but right now, all you could do was listen.

“I’m buying a house,” he revealed, still holding your cheek and gaze. “Fit for a family. Safe neighborhood, good school district, giant backyard.” The list went over your head—it was all too surreal to register. You couldn’t even fathom what he was getting at until, “I want the two of you to come live there with me.”

Stunned, you remained completely silent until the tears dried, and he let go of your face. 

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” He reaches across you and fetches the seatbelt before coming back over you to click it in place. “I’ll go get Junior and drive you home. Just stay here.”

You do as suggested and stay seated as he pops his door open and leaves—feeling all but cemented in place as your thoughts go tumbling around and around as if caught in a rip curl. When Junior jumps in beside you, a farfetched smile is all you can offer. Thankfully, he’s so enamored by a toy he’d gotten to notice much of your state.

When your door opens again, you’re led out and onto your neighborhood street. The fresh air does little to clear your mind. Feeling all but feverish as you hold Junior's small hand in yours while the man of your nightmares smiles all too fondly at the two of you.

“I’ll come pick you up after your shift on Monday.,” he says decidedly—cheerfully as he ruffles Junior’s hair enough to make him giggle. “Bring the rascal with you, and he can pick his room first.”

You weren’t planning on staying. You were never planning on staying—certain you would leave the second the opportunity to skip town arose—you just need to scramble the money together first. 

But the house was huge… nothing you could ever dream of, and while it made you desperate with grief, you couldn’t deny it either… Junior really loved having a dad.

It nearly brought sick to your throat to call him that. It was a shot through the heart every time you heard Junior’s boyish call, squealing with giggles, saying “Daddy, daddy, daddy-”

None of it seemed right to you. Seeing his bright smile, now at the age where a new tooth fell out every other week—looking so goofy as he proudly shows the two of you the new one he’d just knocked out playing soccer at school. “Mommy, Daddy, look!”

What’s worse is that you can't even deny how good the man you hate is at it all—spoiling him with gifts and making him laugh—giving piggyback ride after air-plane flight after tickle-fight and a game of tag and hide’n’seek. 

And it’s not just the easy stuff. He’s good at the shit that used to make you go crazy—putting him to bed, getting him dressed, making him eat the right stuff, and not just scuffle down candy. It’s as if the two of them have developed a secret language you’re not a part of. If Junior weren’t a toddler, you’d even suspect he’d been bribed and told to do his best to make you lose your mind. But no, it’s just reality.

The man you live with drives and picks your son up from school as if he’d done it since he was born, goes with you to meet the teacher if and when he gets into trouble and helps the two of you pick out the right shoes—shoes that you can now afford, thanks to him.

“I thought I might sleep in the master bedroom tonight.” He says, leaning against the frame in the doorway.

You’d been living there a month now. He’d been generous enough to sleep in the guest room up until now.

You don’t know how to deny him. It feels as if anything you might say would just be ignored or threatened until you eventually took it back. You didn’t want him in your bed—you didn’t want him in the same house—in fact, preferably, you’d want him to be six feet deep in the dirt.

You end up not answering. But he’s used to that by now. 

“I get it…” he says, taking steps into the room you’d wrongfully thought was your safe space. “You don’t trust me.” He sits down at the edge of the bed and reaches out across the sheets. You’re too late to pull your feet to yourself before he has one in his hand. He doesn’t do much but stroke it. “But you can.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes you want to gouge them out. It’s all been some cruel joke ever since you moved in—all the pleasantries and presents, as if trying to distract you from the past. Your wardrobe is chockfull of it, and so is Junior’s room—filled to the brim with lies.

“I’m never gon’ hurt you.” Another lie. “I did you wrong once, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ up for it.” 

You want to shake your head, laugh in his face—anything to reject it. But you’re terrified of what he might do if you didn’t play along. The threat of losing Junior is enough to make you cooperative.

“I know I’ve not been fair—pushin’ you into all of this so fast.” He gets down on his knees on the floor as if praying, right down beside you. “I took advantage of a vulnerable situation ‘cause I’m an impatient asshole—but I promise you—” He takes your hand in both of his. “If you give me the chance, I’m gon’ make our lives together like somethin’ outa’ a fuckin’ fairytale—all that happily ever after shit and more, just like you always wanted.”

The kiss he presses upon your knuckles beckons goosebumps to rise all across you. All his words feel like a bad script read by an even worse actor—in fact, this whole thing feels like a prank. And still, it doesn’t surprise you—he’s been laughing at you ever since you were children.

And now, laughing still, only with a fucking ringbox in his hand.

“I want Junior to see us as a united front. I don’t want him askin’ question why we ain’t sleepin’ in the same bed, why we fight behind locked doors, why you cry in the bathroom.” 

He pops the black velvet lid and reveals something so outrages it almost looks tacky lying there in a plush bed of red silk.

“I want us to be happy.” He picks the little thing out and holds it up between his thumb and index, still holding your hand in the other. “I want us to be real.” You can almost see your life flash before your eyes as it threatens your ring finger. “Let’s make us real.”

You don’t say anything as he eases the tiny hoop on, sliding it all the way back until it sits snugly right at your knuckle—dazzling in the dark. A tiny tear slips down your cheek—equally dazzling.

He played some with the digit—a smile on his face. 

“Looks good on you, Mrs.” As he calls you by his last name you almost shake the ring off as if it burned to wear, but it all gets lost when he rushes forward and locks his lips with yours.

You yelp against his mouth, kept from turning away by the large hand holding your jaw, threatening to seize your throat and squeeze. You remember how it had felt. You don’t want more of a reminder, so you intercept his tongue with yours before he forced it down your throat.

He groans at the warm welcome, and your entire body shudders in memory.

You hadn’t let anyone touch you since that time five years ago. It had left a poor taste in your mouth, and the hunger for it had never come back.

You choke it down now as he climbs on top. 

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

[ozzgin]

Daitou I love you but I'm going to date your dad

Hah, you have no idea how long I waited for someone to point it out. Although he’s probably for seasoned dilf lovers, given he’s rapidly approaching 50. I still feel like Boss has his own kind of charm, you know?

Yan!Yakuza Boss is the oyabun for one of the biggest Families in Japan. One does not easily reach that kind of prestige, not without a lot of power, charisma, and influence. In his case, it was a combination of raw strength and mad stubbornness that gained him a dedicated following.

You see, there's a particular reason why he adopted Daitou years ago. It wasn't necessarily out of a kind heart, even though he is known for picking up rascals off the streets. The simpler truth is that he saw himself: A misunderstood boy with violent urges and no place to go.

It's easy to see why Boss is loved by everyone. He's less of a leader, and more of a fatherly figure who is ready to fiercely protect his underlings at any moment. His reckless outbursts have turned him into an underground myth of a man who escaped death one too many times. Each scar tells a story.

Despite his tumultuous, bloody past, Boss has always been a cheerful individual. Ridiculously so. When he'd gotten his left arm amputated, he returned to the office the very next day with a smile on his face. "What's with those sad mugs? Told ya I was going to lose some pounds!"

One thing he's never had time for is romance. Hard to juggle a partner when you have a bunch of rowdy criminals under your care. Now he's close to retirement and would prefer to settle down, yet, in his words, "who's gonna care for an ugly old man"? Sure, he'd love a partner to spoil and protect, but he ain't dumb. He sees it everyday, how the civvies cross to the other side of the street, or offer him a deep, fearful bow before scurrying away. No one messes with a yakuza boss.

Except one day, his Daitou shows up with a foreigner youngster behind. The new tenant. He's rather fond of your nonchalance and carelessness. It takes someone mad to casually hang out with the yakuza, and he loves it.

"(Y/N), was it? It's a rough neighborhood you just moved into. You ever get in trouble, just give me a call. I'll personally handle it! Heh, what's the matter? You think an oyabun just sits on his ass all day? My fists will get rusty if I don't throw them around every now and then. Let an old man practice, won't ya?"

[Main Story] | [More Yakuza]

[sturnthepot]

after hours - chris sturniolo

𑇍 Paring :: rough!dom!chris x fem!sub!poc!reader

𑇍 in which :: you’re at tara’s party with chris who wonders off for a moment when a creepy guy approaches you and offers to buy you a drink, suddenly you feel a pair of arms snake around your waist

𑇍 warnings! :: smut,drink spiking, oral;fem!receiving,car sex, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap your silly willy), violence

𑇍 requested? :: yes!

You are out with your boyfriend chris at one of tara’s party’s, all dressed up for it, you have on a black diesel crop top paired with a black leather skirt, white boots and a matching bag, you didn’t do your makeup over the top with graphic liner this time, opting for someone simpler than you usual makeup

chris wasn’t as dressed up as you, wearing his iconic pirate girl tank top paired with a belt and black pants, wearing his white air forces to match your boots

you’ve been clinging to chris this whole party, it’s not like you don’t like going to parties, actually you love going to them but today you didnt feel like drinking that much, you still have had a few shots throughout the night though but now you had just went to the bathroom going back to look for chris when you see him at the photo booth with tara and nick, deciding to let him have some fun you go to get another drink

you had decided to get something a little more fruity rather than a shot or beer, you were waiting for you drink when a older man came up to you, most likely in his 30’s

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone?”

the man asks making you uncomfortable

“i’m not alone i have a boyfriend he’s just not with me right now”

you state clearly uncomfortable when the bartender hands you your drink, quickly you thank him before the older man speaks again

“honey, i don’t see your boyfriend right here so why don’t i buy you another drink when you finish that one?”

your heart skips a beat, you’re becoming very nervous and uncomfortable, your heart racing faster and faster when he gets up from his seat and walks next to you

“no thank you, like i said i have a boyfriend”

you state once again hoping he will back off, but he doesn’t

“is that him over there?”

the man asks pointing towards somewhere, you turn your head when he slips something into your drink, thankfully the bartender sees this and quickly takes your drink away and pours it out “you need to go” the bartender says sternly

“oh come on i’m just having a bit of fun” the man complains “she probably doesn’t even have a boyfriend” he states now hovering over you, your heart racing more and more you breath hitching when you feel a pair of arms slide around your waist

“who the fuck are you buddy?” chris asks enraged at the man

“i’m just a man trying to hit on a girl calm down buddy” the man shrugs making chris even more angry

“i’m her boyfriend so you might want to leave” chris states clearly amused at this man’s audacity but also extremely mad at it

“i don’t see a ring on her finger” is the last thing the man says before chris lets go of you and.. thud! chris punched the man, quickly grabbing you by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder “chris!” you squeal out but nothing happens, he takes you to the parking lot and puts you in the passenger seat before shutting the door and going to the drivers side (pretend he can drive in this)

—————————————————————-

your sniffling in the car as chris pulls over to a gas station, nobody else is there other than the worker of course

“babydoll don’t cry” chris says looking over at you before thinking for a second “would some snacks make you feel better, hm?” he asks unbuckling his seatbelt, the second he mentions this your face lights up and you nod multiple times making chris chuckle “okay”

he walks out of the store getting back in the car to find you laying down in the backseat, he climbs back there with you leaving the snacks up front before sitting down “c’mere” he mumbles out before you crawl over to him and straddle his lap pulling him into a hug

“sweetheart don’t do that to me” chris groans out before you look up at him confused and oblivious to your position, he looks down to his lap and you look down with him turning a light shade of red when you see the obvious tent growing in his pants

you think for a moment before grinding onto his hips making him groan “not here baby” he barks out making you whine “please, i need you” you beg out grinding onto his lap again letting out a quiet soft moan at the fabric rubbing my against your clothed clit

i’m a blink of the eye chris gets you of his lap having you sitting down on the seat while he’s on his knees at the floor of the car

chris is toying at the buttons of your skirt, you whine “chris, please” “be patient my love” chris mutters out before finally unbuttoning your skirt pulling to to your ankles, quickly discarding it and can’t help but take notice at your orange lace thong with bows on the side “you planned this out didn’t you doll?” chris chuckles from below you “sorta, this wasn’t the way i planned for it to happen but-“ you were cut off by chris licking a stripe across your clothed cunt making you whimper

“fuck, no teasing please baby” you whisper out, your hands finding their way to his soft brown locks “mhm” chris mutters out, moving your panties to the side running a finger through your soaked slick, making u let out a soft moan “already so wet for me baby” “fuck chris” you whimper out when he slowly inserts one of his long slender fingers into you pumping it slowly “you think you can take two princess?” chris breathes out, you nod multiple times “words ma, i need you to say it” chris says looking up at you with his piercing blue eyes never stopping pumping his finger in and out of you “fuck yes chris, please” you whimper out “good girl”

chris slowly inserts a second finger stretching you out for him before slowly pumping and curling his fingers at the slightest “shit baby” you moan out making chris pump his fingers faster and curling them reaching places your fingers couldn’t even brush

within minutes your clenching against his finger squirming, chris placed his free hand on your thigh holding you down “holy shit!” you squeal out as chris adds a third finger “m’ gonna cum!” “m’ cumming!” “fuck!” you ramble out, the knot in your stomach finally snapping, gushing all over his fingers

slowly chris pulling his fingers out causing you to wince and the loss of contact before bringing his fingers to his mouth tasting you, chris brings his fingers to your mouth “taste yourself baby” chris tells you, you suck on his fingers moaning at the taste of yourself

chris sits on the seat with you grabbing you by your waist and pulling you onto his lap “lift your hips f’me” he mumbles out, you do so as chris pulls your panties off, chris toys at the hem of your shirt looking up at you for permission, you nod as he quickly pulls it off and unclasps your bra, your tits spilling you leaving you completely naked exposed in front of him “take your clothes off to” you mumble, chris quickly taking his shirt off lifting his hips to fumble his pants down to his ankles kicking them off leaving him just in his boxers and you in nothing

you start grinding your hips onto him whimpering at his bulge grinding against your slick cunt

chris pulling his boxers down just enough for his painfully hard cock to spring up lightly tapping on his stomach, no matter how many times you’ve had sex with him you’d never get used to his size, he was big

chris grabs you by your hips, you hovering over him, slowly he lowers you down onto him, you whimpering at the stretching sensation “fuck chris you’re to big” you moan out “shh, you can take it, i know you can” you whimper once more as he bottoms you out “doing s’good for me angel” chris praises and you get adjusted to him

after a few minutes you give him the green light to move, him slowly thrusting into you as you bounce on-top of him becoming a moaning mess and grunts and groans leave chris’s mouth

out of nowhere chris begins thrusting into you at a ungodly place, hitting your g-stop everything “shit!” you moan out wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into the crook of his kissing and sucking on it while whimpering

“you close baby? squeezing the life outta me like a vice” chris groans out as you nod vigorously “i’m so close, fuck!” you moan loudly “m’ cumming fuck!” you whimpers the knot in your stomach snapping for the second time tonight

chris thrusts into you a few more times before the knot in his lower stomach soon collapses to, shooting his warm load into you groaning throwing his head back “fuckkk” chris whimpers before lifting you up slowly “cmon sweetheart we need to get home” he mutters out but you just whimper and moan out

chris looks down at you seeing you thrusting your fingers in and out of you once again

“well shit.”

authors note:

second fic how we feeling? we like it or no?

taglist:

@certifiedstarrr

@makaylalovessmut

@flouvela

@sassysturniolo2008

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

Part 2

masterlist

part 1 | 1.2 | part 3

pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory, ambiguous/open ending

2.5k words

author's note: @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay because you asked about part 2 <3

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist - let me know.

——————————————————————————————————

Something inside you has broken.

It seems that for a long time, you were pieces that were temporarily glued together.

In the end, pretending was a good thing.

After all, the one who laughs the loudest internally cries the hardest. 

Since those three days, weeks have passed. And somehow you couldn't move on. Maybe you should ask about that ring on his finger that unexpectedly appeared. Or maybe you should forget, finally move on, start living your life as before and never look back.

And of course, the phone rang every day. The boys, as usual, cared about you, not just him. After all, the captain's orders were to take care of you, too.

Even if he said those words so long ago. Before.

Do you think these waters will ever be shallower? That the current of the river, will carry you away and let you swim inertly to another shore? Or will you drown in the mud and your body sink inertly to the bottom. Forgotten. Left until your flesh rots, disintegrates eaten by river creatures.

His warm hands gently hold your waist. Keeping you from falling off the chair. Even though this is November outside it's already exceptionally cold. It even snowed lightly today. However, there was no longer any sign of it now.

You try to concentrate on decorating the tree, but the presence of a man in your flat is slightly overwhelming.

You let him. You accepted it all. Feeling inside, somewhere deep under your ribs, that this is madness. But despite everything, this discomfort, the smile doesn't leave your face.

You look down at him, his hands still holding your hips. Maybe you can stay like this for a while longer. You feel safe. Wanted. Needed. Belonged to someone.

”I'll turn on the lights”

he says finally helping you off the chair. You take a few steps away to get a better view.

Your first Christmas together. Never mind that it's just the two of you. And you don't mind that it's November.

What matters is that someone finally put your broken pieces together.

He was just yours.

In a few days he had to go on a mission. For unknown amount of time.

So this year Christmas came sooner. And you glance at him as he looks at the decorated Christmas tree with pride written on his face. To turn his gaze to you with the same delight.

”Somethin' wrong?”

You don't answer, blushing slightly. No one has ever looked at you like that.

”Nothing”

you mumble embarrassed

”You look nice in that Christmas sweater” you reply and reluctantly glance back at tree.

”Do you like snowmen, dove?”

The phone rings. It rings nonstop. A familiar picture appears on the screen.

That's right, today is Wednesday.

You allow yourself not to answer.

Several times.

Finally, you slide your finger across the screen.

"Everythin’ okay?"

Kyle, as usual without greeting, gets straight to the point

"I've been waiting for an hour and you're not here. Do you want me to come get you?"

Silence.

"Or maybe I should call Simon?"

That will do.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

You sigh, slowly letting the air out, as if you've been holding it in your lungs for the last few minutes. You quickly take the keys and leave the cold apartment.

You let him hold your hand. Maybe it's weakness. Maybe longing. Or maybe selfishness.

When the therapy is over and you're sitting in his car, you see a Tupperware container in the back seat. You know very well what it means.

"Jessica thought you'd be hungry. You know how she is.  She always cooks too much, and Captain won't eat it all himself” Kyle hands you a heavy container and a spoon

"How long?"

You don't dare raise your eyes, heavy eyelids close for a moment. The world starts spinning again. You don't want to hear that she is there again. Why is she there. After all, it was your home too. Never hers.

But of whom you want to make a fool, you know very well the reason.

"Two weeks." Kyle looks through the windshield, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel

"Friday will be three years from-"

"Don't."

You speak quickly and dryly. You don't want to hear it. You know perfectly well that Friday is the anniversary of the accident.

You should be the one standing in the kitchen. It should be you. There.

"Should I drive you back to your apartment? One of the guys will drive the car back later."

You don't answer, your eyelids are heavy. It's as if they've stuck together and don't want to give you even a hint of light. Any comfort of a still bright day.

Drowning. To sink into the darkness. In an abyss of pain. Rot and suffer. This is your destiny. Forgotten.

"Hey, do you want to talk? Maybe someone should stay with you for the next few days?"

Kyle looks at you, sees your gray, tired face. The dark circles under your eyes. Hair that hasn't been cared for by a stylist in years. Fallen cheeks and chapped lips. Someone else is sitting in that car. It's not you anymore.

When you finally get back to your place, you toss the food container into the trash can and, still in your coat and shoes, lie down on the couch, in the living room. You stare dully at the blank wall, hoping that maybe sleep will come now.

It was better with you before, you were already walking on that straight path. Without stumbling, colors appeared on the sides. The sun was rising more and more for you. But again, a shadow that hid somewhere behind you covered your silhouette. Leaning heavily on your shoulders.

Late in the afternoon, when night slowly replaced day, and red and pink colours dance on the walls in the room, you finally fall asleep.

And again, a nightmare comes. You wish you could wake up and stay awake, stare at the ceiling and not have to relive it all over again. Maybe insomnia was some kind of cure for you. An escape.

And here you are in this place. Another broken promise. Once again you are doing something against yourself. You're sitting in the guest room on fresh evenly laid sheets.

In his home.

But when the phone rang in the middle of the night and on the other end you heard from, none other than Ghost (not to be confused with Simon, at that moment he is speaking to you as a soldier, the Captain). So it wasn't even a request. Just a command. Since John's memory had improved considerably since your last visit, along with the doctors, Ghost decided that you would stay with him this time for longer. Due to the fact that Johnny was injured and needed time to rest. Ghost and Gaz went on missions together. This time, to your misfortune, for a few weeks. And Jessica with kids couldn't stay for longer. Everyone had their own responsibilities. So you were chosen. The last option.

When you arrived, John wasn't there yet, he was going to rehab on Thursdays. So you got a few more hours of freedom before he returned. However, something paralyzed you to leave the room. The suitcase stood next to the bed, still unpacked.

The smell in the house, despite such a long time and so many different people who came in every now and then, remained the same. Cigars and burning wood from the fireplace.

Overwhelming. Now suffocating.

And those damn beige walls. Boring, nauseating. But eventually, it had to be repainted, three years ago these four walls witnessed your darkest moments in life.

Maybe it's better to sleep downstairs in the living room.

When John returns and enters the house, everything happens as if you were a different person - a spectator sitting in the front row, watching with bated breath the scene being played out. A scene from the movie called your life.

John puts his keys down on the dresser in the hallway, walks into the living room looks at the already made-up couch and turns in your direction with surprise. And you stand still with a wooden spoon in your hand, not even blinking.

"Oh there you are darling. Are we supposed to have guests tonight?"

You answer absolutely nothing, still standing motionless at the kitchen island, dismayed to see him slowly walk towards you.

And as if nothing ever happened, he grabs you lightly, squeezing your hip, and leans down to kiss your forehead. The kiss seems to last an eternity. It's almost like he's been kissed you for the first time.

He always did that when he came back to you.

But that was then. It was never - after.

"Somethin' wrong?"

He moves away from you and smiles gently, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

You finally gain some strength in yourself and despite the unreality of the whole situation, which seems as if your brain is playing with you and replaying a scene from the past.

You finally nod slowly, in denial.

"I'll change and help you, I'm exhausted after today's new exercises. But I'm pretty flexible considering my age."

Saying this he smiles wider.

"And how was your day, at work?"

The wooden spoon fell to the countertop with a bang. Echoing in the room.

Mumbling apologetic words, you quickly evade him. You say something about a forgotten business, about making an urgent phone call.

You don't know who to call. Your hands are shaking and wet with sweat. ''It didn't happen.'' you mumble to yourself. Someone who was in charge of your life was a fucking prankster . Every time it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a new unknown and unannounced thing popped up from around the corner. A bloody joke.

Finally deciding to call Johnny, even though he was recently injured and supposed to be resting, you had to hear someone's familiar voice. Something that confirms that you have your feet on the ground. Something that makes you reassure yourself that you're not crazy.

After two signals he picks up and when he hears your frightened voice when you tell him about the situation from a moment ago.  Johnny will be here in two hours.

It's nothing that the wound on his thigh hasn't healed yet. Because if his Captain has finally regained his memory. He would, even if he had to walk 1,000 miles barefoot. He would do it without hesitation.

Just to have him back.

So you had to face John somehow, waiting for those two hours. And that seemed to be no easy thing to do. Because you no longer knew what awaited you on the other side of the beige bedroom. Who was the man who just a few weeks ago, every time he saw you, didn't recognize you and asked the same questions.

Was this the old, kindest John, the one you fell in love with many years ago.Was it even still possible, or was what you heard a few minutes ago some kind of error in his hollow, broken memory.

And again, the same scenery. How many times will it all be the same almost so familiar, and in truth so distant and foreign.

John's already dressed in more comfortable clothes, a plain plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and comfortable old, slightly rubbed jeans.

You stand in the threshold of the kitchen nervously clutching the phone, holding it as if it were some sort of lifeline, a connection to something that will save you. Well, from what, exactly? From a man who acts as if the last years, that tragedy never happened, and your marriage continued uninterrupted. Happily.

"Why don't we eat on the terrace? It's a really nice afternoon today."

John is standing at the countertop, his back turned to you cheerfully humming tunes known only to himself.

And you, you stand praying that by some miracle Johnny will get here sooner.

Despite your fatigue after a day's work, you cheerfully bustle around the kitchen, preparing a late supper. John was supposed to come back today, even though it had only been a week. The longing for him was great. Especially since just 3 weeks ago you had written in the documents, different name. Now, you proudly looked at your finger many times a day, seeing no longer an engagement ring. But something much more important.

A gold wedding ring.

Mrs. Price.

Not only was his return a cause for celebration, there was something else.

Once dinner is ready, the table is a bit over-decorated. The room, and practically the whole house, is illuminated only by the candles that have been set up. You stand nervously in the kitchen in your hands holding a small gift bag.

The dress is rather too elegant, as well. But you want this moment to be special, unique. Unforgettable.

Finally, this long-listened-for sound is interrupted by the only oddity you hear - the beating of your own heart.

John stands in the threshold with astonishment

"Honey? What's-?"

Slowly you hear his heavy footsteps, and after a moment you see him. A tired face, this time with longer facial stubble than usual. He is still dressed in a dirty tactical uniform. You don't even want to know what he witnessed in his absence.

He walks up to you and, as usual, one hand rests on your hip gently squeezing it and a warm kiss lands on your forehead.

"Some celebration? don't tell me I forgot about some important anniversary."

John looks up at you, despite his fatigue, his eyes shining happily illuminated by the candlelight.

"No, you haven't forgotten anything. It's something else."

Speaking, you grab a colorful bag and hand it to him

"A gift? oh, that means it is some positive occasion for me. For us?"

You smile nervously waiting for him to see what's inside.

Definitely a very positive news.

Time passes slowly. It's as if someone has pressed the slow motion button on the remote control to see the details better.

John, still in a good mood, finishes preparing the meal and finally turns in your direction and looks at you

"White or red?"

You bite your lower lip, feeling a coppery aftertaste in your mouth.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why is this happening again?"

Slowly saying these words, you look at his hands, which he wipes inattentively.

"But, what's the matter? I wanted to help you with dinner, dove. And I asked what kind of wine you wanted to drink. That's all."

With each step he takes toward you, you back away until you hit the wall.

"Tomorrow you will forget everything again, I don't have the strength anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Again."

John stands close, much too close.

"How could I forget my biggest sweetheart? My beautiful wife? There's no way I'll ever forget you."

You finally lift your gaze, and look into his eyes. Hoping to see the same spark he once had, long ago.

However, all you see is emptiness. A faded blue.

And the only thought in your mind is for Johnny to hurry up and rescue you from this nightmare.

[virgincels]

WHITE BOY WASTED !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader x og4!ashley graham

tags. intoxication, dub-con/non-con idk atp, ffm threesome, unrequited love (leshley), leon is the one that gets dub-conned, very unsatisfying sex and smut, oral

note. @rigorwhoring hi you beautiful beautiful girl happy birthday sorry this is so late!!! i hope u enjoy this and i hope u have the best day ever!!! not my best work but forgive me im writers blocked to hell and back… this is edited but if u see a mistake please ignore… my excuse for excessive repetition and simplicity is 😇 ashley pov 💪💯 I LOVE U EM <3 this got so long winded and boring I’m sorry I didn’t mean for all of this 😓😓

When Leon lets it slip that he’s got a girlfriend, Ashley thinks her life might be over amidst this sweaty crowd with her nose powdered in more ways than one. Her smile breaks in half, the plump of her bottom lip taken between lipstick-smeared teeth as she tries to put on her big girl face.

“I’m so happy for you,” Ashley says with eyes too wide to be genuine, her voice cracks and her hands drop from his shoulders where they fit so nicely, the initial excitement of him showing up tonight dims. She’ll have to retire those fantasies and rely on that hairbrush she calls Leon for the rest of her life.

“Ashley—“ Leon’s voice is muffled, it might be the bass or the blood rushing in her ears.

“No, this is totally so fun, Leon, this is—Like, gosh, I’m so happy for you, you wouldn’t even believe how happy I am, I’m like literally squealing to myself, oh my gosh, like, like—“ She thinks she’s going to cry.

“Ashley.“ His scowl deepens, the severity in his eyes is wounding her, like, oh my god, doesn’t he know not to look at her that way? Gosh, the way Leon breathes could set Ashley off, like, why are you huffing at her? Why did you use that tone of voice? Why, why, why? She’s not stupid, Ashley is like a master at reading body language.

“Why did you show up, Leon?” Ashley cuts him up once more, she feels light on her feet all of a sudden, it could be the high or it could be enlightenment. “Like, you never—you never come when I ask you to show up.” Did he come to rub it in her face? That he’s got a girlfriend and that means Ashley has even a less of a chance with him than she did before.

“You called me,” Leon tells her, and he’s trying to be loud over the music, but it feels like he’s shouting at her. He is shouting at her. He’s using this party invite as an excuse to be mean, to get away with how he truly feels about her. Leon never shouts so he must be mad—He wants her out of his life, that’s what he’s going to tell her.

Ashley, you’re an annoying little bitch, and nobody actually likes you, they stick around because you pay for everything and that’s the only real reason anyone would ever want to be around you. Anyway, I have a girlfriend and she’s a hundred times hotter than you, and she’s not a kid, she’s my age. By the way, I remember when you kissed me in my sleep on the flight home from Spain, you’re a fucking creep and I would never waste my time with a little girl like you, can you even wipe your own ass or wild your boyfriend have to do that for you too?

Yes, Leon, I can wipe my ass! Do you want to watch? It’s a date.

With this newfound clearheadedness clutched at her side like a holy book, Ashley stills her quivering lip. “I always invite you to parties,” she points out, “so why did you show up today?”

“You called me,” he repeats, “I don’t answer texts ‘cause I don’t get what you mean, I thought—I mean, I just thought you were pressing the buttons—I didn’t know they meant anything.“ Leon shakes his head to reset his jumbled thoughts. “You never call, I got worried, I thought you needed help.”

“Oh my god, don’t do this to me right now, Leon!” She struggles to get away from him, the walls are closing in on her and there’s too many people to move an inch.

“I’m not trying to do anything, I thought you were hurt—“ Leon follows her movements closely. He’s good at that - shouldering past whoever’s in Ashley’s way, parting a crowd like the Red Sea just so she can make her way through. It’s only because she’s his responsibility—well, not anymore, Ashley hasn’t been his responsibility for six months, but still, it makes her feel special.

It’s so unfair, it’s so not fair. This is like emotional cheating, she read about that in the cosmopolitan. Like, where your mind says one thing and your heart says another, if Leon seriously liked his girlfriend, would he be chasing around after Ashley right now? He’s leading both of them on—They’re in this together, personally victimised by Leon S. Kennedy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Ashley sniffles, she is so hurt his stupid boy brain couldn’t even comprehend the spiking levels of hurt inside of her right now, “so, like, can you go now?”

“Ashley,” he says her name again, is that all he has to say to her? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley—If he gave her the chance, he could be saying it in bed. Please, Leon, she could pop his hip out of place if he let her get on top. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes, duh, Leon, oh my gosh, I am doing a lot more than that!” She recalculates her path to the nearest possible exit, skin going pink with the gust of wind that has her skirt flying up. Leon smooths it back down for her, and then he spins her around to face him. And it’s so dangerous to be this close to him, Ashley really might do something bad. Like, like, she might have to get her dad to cover up a criminal record if Leon doesn’t get off of her right now. Every governing body is made up of sex pests anyway. It’s not like it would be a big deal.

“What is up with you?” His brows are knit with concern. She counts all of his freckles.

You have a girlfriend and everything is ruined. You have a girlfriend and everything is worse now. You have a girlfriend and now I can’t get off to you without feeling guilty and jealous and sick to my stomach. Did Spain mean nothing to you? You hugged me and you held my hand. Why don’t you answer my texts? How can you pretend nothing happened between us?

Instead of saying anything mildly intelligent or moving, Ashley hiccups and then keels over to vomit on his shoes. She narrowly misses them. Leon makes it all worse by rubbing her back and telling her to let it all out. Because he’s just like that. He’s a really good guy and it’s way too easy to fall in love with him.

When he offers to drive her home, Ashley whimpers out a ‘no’ but clings onto him anyway. Leon does her seatbelt up, and he puts the heaters on to warm her up. He switches the radio station from rock to KIIS-FM and then he squeezes her hand over the gearshift.

Leon gets out to talk to security even when they recognise his car as he pulls up, and he insists on dropping Ashley right inside even when she brushes him off and says it’s fine.

Really. It’s so fine, Leon. This is embarrassing enough as it is, I don’t want you to see mom and dad scold me like I’m a kid in front of you—Like, seriously, Leon, there’s no need to do that, or drop me off to bedroom—I’ve got it from here, I don’t want you to see my bedroom, I still have stuffed toys and I can’t even make my own bed and I can’t even pick my clothes up off the ground.

Of course, Ashley says none of this, and she doesn’t have the energy to lift her head and see her daddy’s fallen face, she just lets Leon take her to bed. He doesn’t come in thank god, but he kisses her forehead at the door and then leaves for good.

“Wow,” is all Ashley has to say when she meets you for the very first time. She hasn’t seen a skirt that short since daddy pulled her out of that Catholic boarding school. She hasn’t seen tits like that since she checked hers out in the mirror this morning.

Why are you cool? It’s not supposed to go like this. Ashley isn't ready to face someone like you. Oh my god, it’s like the universe is against her, you look like the whole world rolls over when you ask it to.

Neither you or Leon have spotted her yet, so she hides behind one of her casually dressed security guards. Ashley looks at the text she sent.

Ashley: HAI LEON !! u still up 2 meet 2mrw?? :3

Ashley: OMG vry excited 2 c u 2day. LMK if u want 2 cum over 2! BYOB though !! *laughing emoji*

Ashley: Only jk Leon :3 We have W/E beer u like! Anyway G2G TTYL wen I c u there ^-^

Ashley: OMW RN leon B4N ;)

Ashley: Oops >_<

Ashley: :)****

Leon: Okay, Ashley.

Leon: :)

Oh my god, desperate much? He didn’t even respond to her prior texts and she just kept going. The smiley face must mean he’s not mad.

Her phone beeps, she dreads to open it.

Leon: Hey, you here yet?

Leon: :)

Ashley blinks at her screen and wonders if it’s worth showing face. But, her dad is so going to ask how it went down later, and Ashley is awful at lying and she’ll burst into tears and get sent right back to that awful therapist with the stuffy nose. So she takes whatever insecurity she has and shoves it up her ass, it can fix itself like intestines after a surgery.

“Leon!” She springs herself on him from behind, and he’s not much taller than her, but he manages to not topple over, his hands settle over hers as she squeezes his middle tight.

“Ashley.” That’s a smile in his voice, she hopes. She traces a heart on his shoulder blade before she removes herself from his space. It’s very hard to have self control when you’ve never been told no.

“Sorry I’m late, Leon, there was traffic, and then I lost my handkerchief and then I dropped my phone and it wasn’t working for a minute and—Oh.” She lies to Leon ‘cause it’s easy to lie to a guy you want to look cool in front of, someone you want to impress, it’s not easy to lie in front of daddy. “Is this your girlfriend, Leon?”

She pretends her heart doesn’t lurch when he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer to him. “Yeah, uh, babe this is Ashley.”

Ashley looks you up and down for anything she can pick on, anything that she does better than you. But her data scan finds nothing of the sort. You’re perfect and Ashley has never felt more homicidal in her life—Apart from that time she was plagas-riddled.

Unfortunately, you are really fucking cool, and you make her feel more comfortable than Leon ever has, you take the edge away and she’s finally able to relax in front of him.

You work at an office part time, but you spend most of your time out and about, making connections that get you free designer handbags and you have acrylics and ankle-breaking heels and a lip combo she would die for. You are everything she wants to be if it wasn’t for this presidency bullshit. Ashley wants nothing more than to wear a skirt that covers less than half her ass, that flashes everyone in a ten mile radius anytime she takes a step.

“I thought he was ignoring me, I didn’t know he couldn’t read them!” Her texts aren’t that bad, she knows people who don’t even leave a space between their words.

“I wouldn’t ignore you,” Leon mumbles, his lips pressed together in what might be the closest thing to a pout

“Oh em gee, you’re like not even that old, Leon,” she giggles, covering her mouth because she has never liked the way her two front teeth are a little bigger than the rest, and she doesn’t need Leon to pick up on that.

“He doesn’t even know how to make a smiley, I did it for him,” you tell her, “he barely answers my texts, I have to call him every single time.”

You tell her insider info about Leon that she couldn’t even get if she stalked him everyday for the rest of her life. Ashley really likes you, and she can see why Leon really likes you too, and she can’t lie, it kind of makes her really distraught, but if Leon is happy, Ashley is happy.

Oh, who is she kidding?

It doesn't work like that.

Ashley’s selfish. It doesn’t matter if you make Leon happier than he’s ever been, she still wants him to be hers. Not that he would ever even consider anything between the two of them, but him being happy won’t stop Ashley from being unhappy.

“We should go out tonight,” you offer a little while later, and Leon shakes his head immediately.

“She’s twenty,” he murmurs into your ear.

“So?” You seem to do that a lot - ignore everything Leon says in favour of what you want. “You drink, right, Ashley?”

“Yeah, duh, of course I do!” Ashley nods so fast she gives herself whiplash.

You give her a time, place, dress code and a kiss on her cheek. Ashley promises that she’ll be there on time, fake ID in hand.

Ashley finds both of you huddled in a booth, your arm is around Leon’s waist and his face is pressed into your neck, looking awfully small as he speaks. “She’s a kid, it’s illegal.”

“Everyone drinks, Leon, have you never been to a party? Nobody waits until they’re twenty-one, I mean, only you did that.” You use your free hand to card your fingers through his hair. “She really likes you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Leon huffs like a pouty toddler, “it drives me crazy.”

She holds in a noise. While Ashley has made her attraction to Leon clear, while he rejected her attempt at flirting, at what might’ve been solicitation when she looks back at it, he’s never expressed annoyance at it. Oh god, he finds her annoying. Mega annoying. Like one of those silvery bugs college dorms can’t get rid of. Or rats in the New York subway.

Oh my gosh, she’s a fucking bed bug!

“I think it’s cute.” You kiss his forehead tenderly, and Leon’s light lashes dust your cheeks like spiked plumes. “She could be fun, I bet she’s a virgin too.”

Ashley’s cheeks warm. Is it that obvious? Why is her virginity a topic of discussion anyways? Biologically speaking, like, like hymen-wise, Ashley tore that shit up like a sheet of baking paper the moment she got back from Spain. So she’s not technically an actual virgin, just by, like, modern day standards. Like she’s never let another guy touch her ‘cause they’re not Leon, and it might be childish, but she really wants it to be Leon. She’s kissed a couple girls, but only at sleepovers and only in a friendly way.

“No, god, no fucking way.” He sits up, and she watches him shrug off his jacket like he’s started to overheat. Ashley wishes she could see his face from here. “She’s a kid, babe, I’m not… I can’t do that to her.”

“She’s not a kid, Leon, kids do not have tits like that, I promise you.” You pluck the cherry from his drink. “And she likes you, I don’t see the big deal.”

“She’s… She trusts me, it doesn’t matter if she likes me, she trusts me, and if we do that with her—I can’t have her thinking that I want to date her, I can’t do that to her, she’s a kid, man.”

Ashley wonders if the two of you are looking to find a cute, young girl to kill.

“You’ll change your mind,” is what you tell him, and then you knock back only half of your drink before passing it off to Leon. It’s either that he can’t say no to you or no to a drink, but he takes it and he doesn’t leave a drop.

She hesitates to make herself known. But when else is she going to get the chance to see Leon? He’s busy, and so is she, well, sort of, with parties and sorority and daddy nagging at her.

“Hi.” Ashley slides into the booth and faces you, Leon’s back straightens and he nods at her. Too pissed off to even give her one of his cute smiles.

“Ashley, you look so cute, oh my gosh.” It’s kind of scary how you’re able to fall in and out of speech patterns, putting on your best airhead voice to communicate with Ashley.

“Thanks, so do you!” Ashley thinks brand clashing is tacky, but you pull off Baby Phat jeans and a Von Dutch top pretty effortlessly. You press the sole of your heel to her shin and give her a smile worth dying for.

You don’t dance because Leon refuses, and you say that it’s boring to go on your own, and Ashley knows she’ll be in dire trouble if anyone catches her out here. So you talk, and Ashley listens, and Leon dozes off with his eyes closed. He accepts every drink you give him, and he finishes off all of Ashley’s too. By the end of it, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy like two blue marbles. You make her feel like she needs to fit in, like she needs to keep up and Ashley has never felt that way before.

“Have you fucked a girl before?” You ask her like you’re asking about classes or something so mundane—Not if she’s a fucking lesbian or not.

“What? No, oh my gosh, I’m not like a lesbian,” she mouths the word ‘cause, y’know, that’s weird.

“Have you fucked a guy then?” You tilt your head to the side like you know something, and when Ashley goes to lie she makes the mistake of looking into your eyes.

“No…” Ashley shakes her head slowly, she plays with the hem of her pleated skirt. “I mean like, like, like—“

“It’s totally okay, Ashley.” You wave off her nerves. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“What?” Her eyes bulge out of her skull so fast she gives herself Graves’ disease. “What? Oh my god, like, what?”

Leon is completely disengaged at this point, using a pink straw to stir around melting ice in his cocktail glass. His eyes are dropping, and when he looks up, he gazes at her through his lashes.

“Okay, well, do you want to fuck Leon?”

What is this, like, an interrogation? Ashley hasn’t done anything wrong, not yet at least. Lord, she promises, she hasn’t tried anything funny on Leon—Only once, on the flight back to Spain, and it barely qualifies as a kiss, like she just brushed his lips, it wasn’t anything major.

“Well, well, like, well—“ Ashley stammers for a minute or so, and you look at her all like, ‘take your time’ ‘cause you’re weirdly calm when you say weird fucking things and make her feel weird.

“I don’t mind if you want to fuck him, I’m asking because I think he wants to fuck you.” You’re lying to her face, ‘cause Ashley heard what Leon said, a very clear no, but she believes you anyway ‘cause she wants to believe that Leon wants her. “And I want to fuck you too.”

“I’ll drive,” you tell Leon who doesn’t even look coherent, he slumps back in the passenger seat and looks like he did on the way home from Spain. With his hair falling in his eyes, his lips parted and his hands curled into tight fists. Babies sleep like that.

You make eye contact with Ashley in the rear view mirror and give her a smile so pretty the reflection is blinding enough, she can’t imagine what it looked like up close. She feels like an ant under the burning glow of a magnifying glass. She feels your teeth in her neck. She’s going to feel Leon’s dick inside of her tonight. It might not be entirely legal, but when you’re a girl in a male-dominated world, you have to do what you have to do.

Leon’s house, Ashley thinks as she walks inside, her heels clacking in time with yours.

Leon’s house, Leon’s coat rack, Leon’s plain interior design, Leon’s couch. Leon’s bedroom, Leon’s bed, Leon’s pillow, Leon’s scent. Leon’s girlfriend. Leon Leon Leon.

He’s on his front in bed, still fully clothed, boots and all. You take them off for him and put them to the side, you hang his jacket in his wardrobe, and you begin to take off his jeans. Leon makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat, it’s soft and whiny, the sort of noise a distressed dog makes, and it’s so unlike him she feels something thrumming between her thighs.

“C’mon, baby, lift your hips, it’s just me,” you hum, slipping your hands up his shirt and rubbing circles into his sides, “don’t make a fuss, Leon.”

A second or two pass, and Leon lifts his hips, you wrestle with his jeans and toss them on the floor. No fucking way. No fucking way. There is no way in hell Leon has a nicer ass than her. There is no way in hell Leon doesn’t wear boxers under his jeans, and there is no way in hell this is Ashley’s real actual serious life right now. Like, none of it adds up.

“Oh,” Ashley says softly when she sees his dick. It’s small. Not big. Just—It’s just sort of there. Maybe it’s the angle he's at. Laying on his front, dick laid out on the bed like it’s a toy or something. He would look cute in a jockstrap.

“It’s cute, right?” You pinch his thigh and Leon’s toes curl in his socks. She doesn’t know if you mean his ass or his dick or his balls, they’re pretty cute too. Like. Round and everything balls should be. It’s just—It’s just a little underwhelming. “Roll over, baby.”

He listens like a good dog, rolls onto his back and pants into your mouth when you kiss him. He’s fucking out of it—This isn’t even Leon anymore, Ashley’s not sure if she likes this or not.

She’s not sure if this is how she wants him. It’s not how she’s thought about him on top of her, guiding her, holding her hips and slowing her down when she got ahead of herself.

“Do you want his face or…?” You gesture to his dick and her lust rears its ugly head, she’s willing to overlook the state she’s in to get that dick inside of her. Where it belongs. All four inches tucked away for no one to find. “Ash?”

“Oh… I don’t really know.” Ashley’s bottom lip juts out, because she has always known what she’s wanted, and she always gets what she wants—And now that it’s right in front of her, she can’t even verbalise that yes, she wants his dick so bad, she wants to die and come back to life on that tiny little thing.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You pat the space beside you and she sits, curling into your side as Leon sucks on the tip of your thumb like he's a pin-up girl. “I know it’s not much, but it’s not his fault, I was upset too when he showed me for the first time—“

“No, no—It's not that, oh my god, I’m just, like, nervous.” Ashley shivers as you trail your fingers up and down the jagged edge of her spine, like you’re swiping a credit card. Like you’re trying to open a locked door from the outside.

“Aw, Ashley, you don’t need to be nervous,” you coo, and then you grope her tit so hard she doesn’t have the time to feel nervous, she just feels out of her wits, “he totally likes you, like, I promise, just lay back, ‘kay?”

“Um, okay, I just don’t feel like I should be doing this if Leon is, like, really drunk—“ Ashley yelps as you push her back into the pillows, they’re both flat and blue and they smell like Leon.

You bunch up her skirt above her belly button, toying with the waistband of her panties as you urge Leon to press his face against her puffy pussy. When he sort of slumps into her, head flopping onto her padded thigh, you take him by the hair and force his face into her panty-clad cunt. He’s a fish hooked on a line.

“Good boy,” you praise, hooking your fingers in Ashley’s pink panties and sliding them over the swell of her perky ass and down her legs.

His tongue flicks over her swollen clit, and Ashley lets out a quiet whimper, muffled into the cupped palm of her hand, like she’s trying to keep a secret.

You busy yourself with her tits, telling her that you’ve been waiting to get your hands on them since she wandered into your peripheral. That you noticed them first, and that she shouldn’t be ashamed to show them off. It doesn’t matter what her daddy says.

You’ve got ‘em for a reason, Ashley!

She’s never had her tits played with. Duh. Like, she’s tried pinching her nipples and it’s never done much, but this—Her pussy flutters each time you pop off her hard nipples, leaving your mouth both pinker than they went in.

When her back bows off the bed, none of it is Leon’s doing, his sloppy tongue in her sloppy pussy, giving languid licks up and down her slit from her clit to her hole—It’s you and your quick tongue and your hands on her tits and oh my god, what is wrong with her?

Ashley is not a lesbian and she really likes Leon. She doesn’t know much, but she went into this threesome knowing that, and now you’ve gone and thrown it all up into the air.

She wants someone firm, and you’re giving her all that she needs. You’re kissing her mouth, dribbling your spit onto her tongue and she’s eating it up like a fucking baby bird—What is she doing?

What is Leon doing more importantly? He’s using her pussy as a fucking pillow.

“Baby, are you kidding me? Again?” You whine as you roll him over. “Leon, hello? Leon?” He’s passed out cold, and his fists curl tightly, like a baby. “You always do this to me, Leon, it’s so embarrassing, get up!”

With your spit coating her lips, and the faint tingle of aftershocks, the ghost of Leon’s lips on her clit, Ashley thinks she has a lot of things to figure out. Like, is she a lesbian? And is Leon really like that in bed? Does he even know how to, like, do things without your help? Would she have to guide him?

Ashley’s, like, so not experienced enough to guide him, and she doesn’t even know how lube works. Like, do you put it on the pussy or the dick? And is she meant to put the condom on Leon, or is he meant to do it for her?

All she knows is that you’ll be there to help her along the way, but she’s totally not a lesbian and she totally still likes Leon. Like. Seriously. Cross her heart and hope to die.

(Are all guys like that in bed? Or is it because he’s drunk? Is this legal? Is legal sex better? Would legal sex with Leon make him a little better at it?)

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (05)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, drama, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x mom!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

← Previous Chapter (04) | Next Chapter (06) →

***

Jungkook was in a daze the whole time you vented your feelings, but he miraculously snapped back to reality upon seeing you retreating.

You were walking away from him. Again.

"Wait!" Jungkook's hand attached to a dextrose trickled down with blood when he forced himself to stand, agitatedly running toward you. His stomach wound had barely healed. It hurt to the point where he fell to his knees, forced to whimper as he touched his bleeding stomach.

The stitches came undone. One of the nurses saw Jungkook. She gasped and immediately attended to the sick man.

"Mr. Jeon! Why are you running! Your wounds are bleeding again!" The nurse scolded. You couldn't miss it with how loud her shriek was. You were left with no choice but to look back.

As expected, a torrent of abuse escaped your mouth. You were predictable like that. Your heart was like the ocean as it was big enough to accommodate millions of creatures; one more stinky fish like Jungkook would not kill you.

"You're such a stupid bastard! Get up!" You ran back to Jungkook, your heart bleeding profusely at the sight of your pathetic ex-best friend. Perhaps you were wrong. One stinky fish swimming back to your life was equivalent to millions of gallons of oil spills in your ocean heart.

Seeing Jungkook in pain hurt you worse.

"Mr. Jeon, please get up. We're going to treat your wounds." Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, assisting Jungkook to sit on it. Jungkook followed, but he gripped the hem of your shirt without the intention of letting go.

"Mr. Jeon," the nurse subtly rolled her eyes. She wasn't paid enough for this, making you feel embarrassed on behalf of said annoying patient.

"I won't leave." You assured but it didn't do much to calm Jungkook. He refused to let you go--one thing his past self didn't have a problem doing before.

"I promise, okay?" You let out a breath. You never broke your promises. Jungkook was appeased, having a taste of your promises earlier when you claimed you wouldn't have gone back to Incheon hadn't been for your vow to your precious Jisoo-unnie.

"You'll be here after they treat me?" Jungkook's voice was barely above a whisper. You couldn't remember your ex-best friend using this tone before, like a kicked puppy begging for love. 

"I will be, but not with him." you glanced at Soobin, who still had his ears covered. The little boy's brattiness knew not to cross boundaries. At three, Soobin already knew you were not some force to be reckoned with. No one (not even Jungkook) could handle an angry you as your attitude turned to something akin to that Japanese legend, Arahabaki. It was terrifying.

"Alright," Jungkook relented.

The nurses silently thanked you before leaving. You merely nodded before turning to your son.

"You can uncover your ears now, sweetheart." You kissed your son's tiny hands. They were very soft.

"Mama not mad?"

Your heart softened. You couldn't help but kiss Soobin again, "Of course not, mon amour. How about this? I'll buy you ice cream later if you promise to be good to Uncle Min. Do we have a deal?"

Soobin popped a thumbs up. "Bin-bin miss you."

"I'll miss you too, baby. But I'll only be gone for a few hours. Have fun, alright?"

You made the necessary phone calls after that. A few minutes later, an Aurus Senat car appeared in front of the hospital.

The car's window rolled down.

"Hi, Mam!”

You would be lying if you said you were pleased to be face-to-face with your boyfriend's assistant, but it's not like you had a choice. Your boyfriend trusted this assistant, so you, by extension, learned to trust him, too. You just didn't like his overly enthusiastic smile.

"I'll be back later tonight. Please take care of my son." You personally placed Soobin on the baby seat, ignoring the assistant's piercing gaze.

"Will do, Mam. You know how much I adore Soobin~~."

You didn't honor that with a response. You said a few more words to your son before gently closing the door.

The assistant was still looking at you. You rolled your eyes, wanting nothing but to wipe that smirk off his face.

So you did, "Tell my boyfriend I said hi. I terribly miss him. Best if he gets ready for me tonight."

That seemed to work. The assistant lost his smirk at once. He let out a choked hum before rolling up his window and driving away.

You knew it was petty, but you felt victorious as you made your way inside the hospital. The nurses told you it would take time before you could talk to Jungkook again. You thanked them, then sat patiently on the waiting bench, pensive about how you should discuss things with Jungkook.

You regretted losing your cool earlier. You got quite the temper—a persistent problem you had had since you were young. You thought having Soobin by your side somehow lessened your anger issues (maybe it did), but Jungkook seemed to bring out the worst in you and hurt you.

Right. Jungkook had hurt you multiple times. 

Seven to Six years ago; 2016 - 2017:

It was an auspicious time for you. Your thesis adviser during college wrote you a recommendation letter that landed you a spot in a prestigious university for your Master's degree.

"Ugh, you're going to school again." Jungkook pretended to retch, but he was fooling no one. Despite his hatred toward the education system, he still got you a present before your classes officially started.

"This is something I enjoy doing, you know?" You responded as you opened your best friend's gift. 

It was a customized ballpen with your name on it. Others might find it ordinary-looking, but you knew that this cost Jungkook a fortune.

"Seriously...?" You couldn't help but stutter a breath. "You're giving me an 18k gold pen?"

"Seriously." Jungkook wrapped your hand around your waist, pulling you closer and gently nibbling your ear. He whispered seductively, "I'll give you everything this world considers best." 

Jungkook's gift to you was from a luxury brand called Montegrappa. He understood how big of a deal this could be for others but not for him. The ballpen's price did not break Jungkook's bank at all. It did not even leave a dent because while you busied yourself with your studies, Jungkook grew his money through business.

Bighit's market share shot through the roof. You were an investor there but only held a small percentage of ownership. You only invested in Bighit to appease Jungkook, though you couldn't lie that even your initial investment profited 5000% more.

Jungkook coaxed you to invest more, but you learned the importance of diversifying your investment in your finance and accounting courses. You maintained only your initial investment in Bighit while putting its interests on various things: bonds, stocks, mutual funds, and more. You basically hit the jackpot after profiting from the Bighit.

Jungkook was the only one who remained loyal to Jimin, refusing to invest anywhere else.

The Bighit had gotten lucky in the past two years because of Jungkook's machinations. You weren’t completely lying when you said Jungkook was licking asses. It took many fancy meetings with other businesspeople before he successfully landed deals with them. You knew Jungkook was at the top of his game because even Jisoo, your older sister, was drawn into investing in Bighit.

Jimin wasn't exactly idle, either. Truthfully, he's busier than Jungkook since he recruited and managed company workers. In short, Jungkook enchanted investors while Jimin oversaw their business operation.

People like you were the ones who had it easy. The only thing Bighit needed from you was your capital. Admittedly, you barely knew how the company operated. You didn't bother with this, knowing your share was less than 20%. Instead, you focused on your studies for the next two years, and before you knew it, you were already on stage to receive your diploma.

But your heart was unhappy; your shoulders slumped as you looked at the crowd. There were two seats reserved for your graduation guests. Jisoo smiled reservedly at you as she occupied the chair on the left, but the spot next to her was empty.

It only meant one thing:

Jungkook did not attend your graduation ceremony.

You deflated. You really couldn't have it all. Jisoo didn't attend during your college graduation as she was busy with work. Now that you were getting your Master's degree, Jungkook couldn't attend.

"Hey, congratulations! I'm looking forward to seeing your next achievement!" The two most important people in your life might not be around at the same time, but your former thesis adviser was always present. He supported you in all your academic pursuits and considered you like his own daughter.

"Thank you, Professor Choi." You forced a smile, sad because of Jungkook and a little uncomfortable because of your thesis adviser's meaningful smile. The ceremony just ended, yet you felt Mr. Choi was planning something for you again.

"No worries, dear. The academe appreciates a rare talent like you. Actually..."

And there it is.

You couldn't avoid listening to Mr. Choi talk. Apparently, your former adviser initiated sending your work to different reputable universities. He said he sent it in passing, but Verlaine, a French professor from Sorbonne University, reached out to him because he had read your work and was hoping to connect with you and offer you a scholarship at Sorbonne.

"I don't know, Mr. Choi," you bit the inside of your cheek, pensive. You had just finished your Master's degree and were planning to rest for a while before pursuing a doctoral degree.

You wanted to travel the world and drink expensive wine with Jungkook. (And maybe sleep with him, too) Admittedly, you missed the feeling of Jungkook's warm body on you; you missed the high you got only when Jungkook whispered sweet nothings to you —the only thing that made you feel like you could conquer the world.

It's been a while since you last had a proper conversation with your best friend. The past few months had been crazy as you prepared for your final feasibility defense. Meanwhile, Jungkook skirted around the topic of 'fixing' a clause on their contract agreement with their associates and subsidiaries.

You learned not to pry regarding Jungkook's proper business; it's your way of showing respect and trust. You couldn't bear to fight Jungkook like you did years ago. That's too messy, and cajoling Jungkook was not for the weak. It's too troublesome. 

But now that you thought about it, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to enquire about the business's standing. Something might have gone wrong for Jungkook to miss your special day. You didn't think Jungkook would mind, considering you deserved an acceptable reason and a sincere apology.

"Jisoo-unnie," your eyes flicked at Jisoo. "Aren't you an associate at Bighit? How's the business these days? Did Jungkook and Jimin hold a meeting?"

Jisoo couldn't meet your gaze, but she forced out an answer. "There's been some lower management issues, but Jungkook-ah told me he's handling it well. Don't worry, alright? You know Jungkook. He'll get around it somehow." Jisoo offered a champagne glass to you, "Here, drink. We should celebrate and discuss your plans to study in France."

Your eyelids fluttered shut, smiling uptight. "I've had enough of this topic, Jisoo-unnie. Actually..." You looked around; the graduation party was far from ending. You were rapidly getting used to ditching your own celebration. "I want to meet up with Jungkook. Can you entertain the guests for me?"

Jisoo seemed to disapprove, but you looked too pitiful. You were many things; you were loud and couldn't pass two minutes without insulting anyone, a defense mechanism you learned when young. But Jisoo knew precisely what was under your edgy mask and sharp tongue.

You loved hard, and it happened that you loved Jungkook the most.

"I'll let you go," Jisoo tapped your back. "Call me, alright?"

"Thanks, Jisoo-unnie."

And that was how you found yourself in front of Jungkook's apartment. You even brought an unopened bottle of champagne Jisoo had gifted you which you couldn't drink as the police sirens assaulted your ear.

"What the f..." You gulped down the profanities in the presence of the law enforcers. It wouldn't do you or Jungkook well if you caused trouble. You blinked and rephrased your question, calmly asking the female officer why they were bringing boxes out of Jungkook's high-end apartment and where Jungkook was.

"We have a search warrant, Miss." The officer explained nonchalantly, probably not to worry a civilian like you. "We can't discuss the criminal case for now, but I assure you that Mr. Jeon is not in trouble. He is merely invited to the police station for a statement."

"How the fuck is that supposed to assure me?" Your temper flared up at once. The officer did not flinch and refused to explain further.

Agitation overtook your senses as you cursed yourself for not knowing anything law-related. You debated calling your lawyer but decided against it because Jungkook was not some fragile little boy. If anything, Jungkook was probably ten steps ahead of these officers. Perhaps he orchestrated this whole thing.

You looked around, too. Jungkook lived in a high-security place. No one here would dare blab the situation to the public. The neighbors kept their doors tightly shut, refusing to associate themselves with the investigation.

You did everything to reassure yourself and keep your sanity. You left the officers in favor of driving to the station, realizing you didn't need to call your lawyer or anyone else; you only needed to see Jungkook.

To your luck, you immediately spotted Jungkook outside the station, laidback and grinning widely while talking to two police officers.

"Jungkook." You never claimed to be a patient woman. You went straight to Jungkook and ignored the officers.

It was rare to see a surprise Jungkook, too. He arched his brow, mouth slightly parted as he took in your slackened jaw. "What are you doing here? Aren't you with Jisoo-noona?"

You felt yourself flinch. Since when did Jungkook start sounding and acting like your presence was a big burden?

"You didn't attend my graduation," you said resentfully.

Jungkook merely looked at you before switching his gaze to the officers; his smile returned as he bid them goodbye. After that, Jungkook simply walked away, ignoring you, who stood there dumbfounded.

This bastard—!?

"Jungkook, you shit!" You ran after your best friend and soon caught up with him.

Jungkook still didn't stop, so you had no choice but to block his way.

"What do you want?" Jungkook wasn't his usual goofy self. In fact, his voice was uncharacteristically cold.

You felt your heart leaping to your throat, your boldness cowering at the presence of a reserved Jungkook. You were none the wiser but were able to change tactics at the last minute.

You grasped his wrist, "What happened to you? Are you in trouble? Can...can I help you?"

Jungkook was taken aback, obviously not used to you being soft-spoken.

"It's nothing." Jungkook used his free hand to caress your cheek. They were cold. You must have ran just to see him. "Nothing I can't handle. Don't worry, your two brain cells can't understand it even if I try to explain it to—"

"I got my Master's degree today, you fucking bastard!" You were about to hit your best friend, which Jungkook immediately dodged. He had memorized everything about you, from your insults to your breathing to your movements—

"You did." Jungkook was an enigma, and gone was the cold haze enveloping him. He pulled you close to him and hugged you tightly.

—and even the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

"Congratulations on getting your Master's degree, sweetheart." He kissed the top of your head.

You stuttered a breath and punched Jungkook's chest. "You're so annoying. I don't understand you at all."

Jungkook chuckled lightly, drawing circles on the small of your back, and then he said:

"You're not supposed to. I love you; that's all you need to know."

It was, in fact, not all you needed to know. Days passed after your graduation, and Jungkook's business remained a mystery to you. You couldn't reach your best friend at all, so you reluctantly reached out to Park Jimin. Like Jungkook, Jimin was also unreachable.

"What the fuck is happening?" You cussed, feeling your blood running hot. You were pissed and were kept in the dark. Jungkook hadn't gone this long without contacting you. It was already bad enough when Jungkook acted all hot and cold during your graduation day; Jungkook even refused to cuddle with you that night, opting to just talk to you in your living room. When you woke up the next day, Jungkook was already gone. You received no news about him since then.

You flopped down the couch, remembering Professor Choi's advice, "You're too hotheaded, dear. It will one day be your downfall. Why don't you calm down before opening that mouth of yours? Are you familiar with the 4-7-8 breathing technique?"

It had gotten so bad back then. You were defending your research paper before the panelist when you felt your temper flaring up. Luckily, Professor Choi was there to call for a short break and pacify you.

Looking back, Professor Choi's advice was of great help to you. You could apply it now, so after settling on the couch, you breathed in and distracted yourself by watching the news.

Wrong move.

The headline sent you into a spiral, "Breaking News: Bighit, a start-up and a unicorn company, turns out to be the second Enron of this generation."

You couldn't breathe, yet you forced yourself to understand what was happening. If you remembered the lectures in your MBA courses correctly, then Bighit was compared to a unicorn because of its rare success in the business world (much like a mythical unicorn), with Bighit being valued at one billion dollars or more in just a few years of operation. 

It was a good thing, but the headline did not stop with just that. Bighit was linked to Enron, too, a bankrupt company that committed fraud and ruined countless lives.

How could Jungkook's company be linked to something diabolical?

You refused to believe the news; regrettably, all evidence stated otherwise. You checked the stock price per share of Bighit, and your jaw dropped, seeing how much it had fallen. The news was cut short, though a few minutes later, it televised Park Jimin walking out of the police station. Your lips quivered while watching Jungkook's beloved hyung look like a pale ghost; his eyes barely opened because of how flashy the camera flashes were.

You didn't know where to go or who to call anymore. You couldn't barge into the police station like you did days ago. The place was crawling with reporters, and for once, you made use of your brain, afraid that your fragile temper would burst and make the situation worse.

For a while, all you could do was wait.

***

It was established before that you had the patience of a three-year-old. You couldn't sit still, so you did the only way you could think of to talk to Jungkook: you bought a large amount of Bighit's share over the counter. Ango Sakaguchi, the previous stockholder from whom you brought your shares, did not hesitate to sell his shares. Although Ango looked at you as if you were crazy. Bighit was at risk of getting delisted from major stock exchanges; the value of its market per share was basically at the basement of a rock bottom.

But you did not care. Being a major stockholder at Bighit guaranteed you a seat in the company's board meeting. Truth be told, you finally saw Jungkook, Jimin, and even your Jisoo-unnie during the emergency meeting.

"Dear, what are you doing here?" Jisoo was surprised to see you, but you merely looked at Jisoo, whom you also couldn't contact these past few days.

"My client isn't participating in this meeting as a board member but simply as a shareholder who values her contribution to the company." You had come prepared by bringing your lawyer and letting him speak on your behalf. You might not know a thing or two about the law, but you didn't get your MBA degree for a show. You knew the threats that came from buying Ango Sakaguchi's shares.

Unlike Jimin and Jungkook, you and Jisoo were merely stockholders who funded the business. You did not oversee the operations of Bighit, so now that the company was in trouble, the only problem for you and your sibling was the threat of not getting your investment back.

You and Jisoo were invited to today's meeting to discuss the order of priority in the payment of the company's liabilities as well as its threat to be delisted by the Security and Exchange Commission. (SEC)

The meeting commenced. Your focus was not on the speaker but on Jungkook. The latter did not bother to shoot you a glance; his attention focused solely on the meeting and Jimin.

You clenched your fists. This was not the time to be jealous, but the green-eyed monster had long engulfed you. 

"The SEC gave us 90 days to pay our legal obligations. First to the taxes we owed, then the unpaid wages and other benefits of our employees, followed by our outside debtors, and lastly, our shareholders." Jimin announced. He also filled in the board members and others about their pending criminal case.

You slouched on your swivel chair, listening intently to your lawyer, who was whispering some legalities to your ear. Your eyes were shooting holes at Jungkook, though.

You tilted your head and raised your hand.

"Yes?" Jimin turned to you.

"I am abandoning my shares."

Now, that caught Jungkook's attention. Your best friend looked you dead in the eyes, his jaw ticking, but he refused to speak.

Jimin sighed, "You owned a significant number of shares in Bighit. Are you sure you want to forfeit your rights to any remaining assets?"

You did not respond at first and just twirled in your hand the golden pen Jungkook gifted you two years ago. Your lawyer spoke on your behalf, "My client does not care about the money. She wants her shares to be liquidated and used to pay the company's obligations. We humbly implore you to prepare an agreement to honor my client's request."

Jimin was about to agree, but Jungkook beat him to it.

"Bullshit." 

The curse reverberated through the meeting room. If this was an ordinary day, you would surely respond with twice or thrice Jungkook's cuss, but you were too hurt by Jungkook's silence these past few days that you chose to shut up.

"Dear, have you thought about this?" Jisoo couldn't help but interfere, too.

Your lawyer cleared his throat and answered for you again, "The matter has been discussed thoroughly by my client and me. No one here needs to worry."

Jimin felt the tension's thickness, so he tried to cut through it, "Very well. This is highly appreciated. Atsushi, please draft the agreement with Jisoo’s sister now."

The meeting continued for two more hours before Jimin adjourned it. Everyone started to leave, and you told your lawyer to be on your way, too.

"See you soon, Mam." The lawyer nodded and left.

You remained seated in the swivel chair, lightly turning as you watched people leave until Jungkook was the only one left.

Jungkook stood up and made his way to the door, but you pretended to be unconcerned. Your heart was in your throat, though.

But your trepidation didn't last long when you heard the lock click in place.

You exhaled and twirled your chair to face Jungkook, who was leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"So what now, shithead?" Your silence was only reserved during the meeting. Now that you were alone with Jungkook, you couldn't help but bark.

The corner of Jungkook's mouth ticked. "Classic you. Are you that desperate to talk to me that you wasted millions so I can throw you a bone?"

You weren’t wearing your choker, but you felt as though something was squeezing your neck. You found it hard to breathe.

"You think you can agitate me with your words? I've been too hotheaded, haven't I?" You stood up, slowly but heavily trudging toward your best friend. "Well, guess what, shitty Jungkook."

It was instantaneous. You grabbed Jungkook's shirt collar and slammed him on the wall. Jungkook's eyes rolled at the back of his head because of how hard you had pushed him.

"You can tease me all you want, but between you and I, you know who fucked up, and it isn't me."

Something flashed across Jungkook's face. If you were to name it, it would probably be pain, but you couldn't be sure as it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Jungkook smirked.

"Why? Because I didn't run to you crying about how I fucked up? You would want that, wouldn't you?" Jungkook laughed mirthlessly. "Over my dead body."

You were wrong. It wasn't pain that flashed on Jungkook's face. It was anger. After all these years, you realize that Jungkook had not fully forgiven you for saying he had made the wrong decision of venturing with Jimin.

Suddenly, you lost your will to fight Jungkook because this wasn't just about Jungkook ghosting you. It was about Jungkook building his walls against you.

You let go of your best friend at once, and then you took a step backward, defeated.

But Jungkook wasn't done with his attack. Years of frustration had bubbled up, and now, it exploded.

Jungkook's Adam's apple bobbed. It looked as if it took everything in him to say what he needed to say, but it still didn't prepare you for the pain that would shoot your heart and soul.

"I slept with Jisoo-noona."

One sentence, five words.

You and Jungkook had been friends since you were five. You had said hurtful words to each other before—all of which you didn't mind much. How could you, when you knew your words hurt Jungkook more?

But this…this was different. Nothing could ever top this betrayal.

"Y-You…" You choked back a sob. Fury and hurt crawled from your feet to your neck; they were like a knife blinding your eyes with one swift cut.

The tears obscured your vision. You couldn't (didn't want) to see Jungkook's expression.

You cast your gaze on the floor, watching your tears stain the cold tiles.

The silence was suffocating. Neither of you could take it anymore.

"You know," so you shattered it. "I might be a cussing machine, but I'm not as cruel as you, Jungkook."

You balled your hands into fists, forcing yourself to meet Jungkook's gaze. Just this once. You wanted to look at Jungkook and let him see just how much he had hurt you.

"I don't know shit about your company, but I know one thing." You smiled sadly, "I know I was wrong to believe you love me."

Once, someone told you, 'I love you; that's all you need to know.' Then, he proceeded to break your heart after.

"You—"

"But if you insist that you love me, then…" You cut him off. "Take it away because I don't want it. I've got no use for your disgusting love."

With that, you left, ignoring all calls from Jungkook and your Jisoo-unnie. You only answered one text, and it went like this:

To: Paul Verlaine I accept the scholarship. When can I leave for France? ***

A/N: Hi guys, apologies if there are so many boring jargon, i tried to minimize it as much as i could, but they’re mostly imperative for the story to progress, so i couldn’t fully eradicate it. This chapter is a bit funny to me because honestly, I am so OC who couldn't forget lectures I've learned during college 😆 I've written SO MANY academic papers because of that company's scandal.

anyway, i’ve mentioned before that this fic is originally a bsd fanfic, so the oc is patterned to chuuya nakahara, please stop sending me anon message complaining that oc is cussing too much and she overdoes it because I know. she is supposed to be that way and trust me when I say it is also imperative for the plot. you will come to realize that in the following chapter, but if it really annoys you, please do yourself a favor and stop reading this fic. there are so many fics out there which are much more well-written and would not annoy you. read that instead. thank you ~~

as usual, comments are highly valued! i’ll edit this chapter later, my eyes are hurting now huhu

← Previous Chapter (04) | Next Chapter (06) →

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I thought I wasn't going to have strong opinions about the Laios-Shuro fight, but...

Laios was right about this! Yes, they had 2 physical fights first, but it's important to note that Laios was right about this!

.

^ -man who would literally kill to stay in this room and observe this private conversation.

.

Sir, your unfaltering little wide-eyed, amiable smile while seriously considering topics that are obviously un-smile-worth has charmed me utterly. I wish to study you like an climate-entomologist yearns for the butterfly that causes storms.

.

She seems fine.

.

If I start screencapping Laios's and Marcille's faces in this fight, I will never stop because literally every panel is devasting.

.

Kuro has done distinctly the most damage so far this fight, just stabbing and gnawing, and I think we should recognize and appreciate that fact.

.

I really miss the animation we got of Rin's lightning blast slicing narrowly past Laios.

I love how fast, if reluctantly, Laios accepts that if - not, that Falin is a true "monster", inhuman and hurting people relentlessly and unapologetically, and thus she needs to be killed before she kills them, like any other monster. I also love that Marcille doesn't accept this. Characters!

.

+1 to qualification to kingship! Kabru is one again surprised (you can tell by how he's not smiling) (though this might also be due to the significant injuries he just took).

I do have several emotions about how Falin immediately yanks away and kills Kabru, without touching Laios. That's her brother!!

.

I really like this little cluster because it says to me that Shuro still has very good "do what Marcille says when she abruptly shouts magic-related directions in combat" instincts. He's a mirror of the "You're already on the Christmas card, buddy" meme - more like, "You're still on the Christmas card." Just like Namari: no one really stops being fond of, and battle companions with, these weirdos.

.

I think the most painful part of this probably is that Marcille isn't certain. Maybe this IS her fault. At minimum, she knows she might have mixed the dragon's soul into Falin's, which enabled this even if it didn't create it. But she can't 100% rule out the possibility that it's more her fault than that - which is, of course, the absolute worst thing to say to all of these people looking at her violently askance for using dark magic.

.

yeahhhhhh "Lunatic Magician" REALLY lacks the oomph of "Mad Mage"

ANGRY LAIOS! It's such a rare expression on him, it's exciting to see.

.

Yesss look at my man Chilchuck use available tools in his environment and save this little goober who thinks it's cool to resent adults.

I really like how they show the social consequences of dark magic. Much beyond Shuro's anger: the other mages are now shutting Marcille down, especially where resurrection magic is concerned. She's made herself untrusted by her peers, whether or not the magic she used on Falin is truly "evil."

.

I really enjoy the, like, narratively obligatory, not actually real (well, maybe to Rin) "will they-won't they" between Kabru and Rin. In the story that this isn't, where Kabru is the protagonist with his quirky gang of found family who are helping him save the island and prevent another bloodbath like in his angsty backstory, she IS the One (Human) Female on the Team who is obviously his love interest - often the first to challenge him, battle mage rather than healer ie a Strong Female Character who nonetheless doesn't use unfeminine brute force, forced by happenstance to kiss...

Alas! Kabru is not the protagonist of this story, so Rin shall remain disappointed.

Also this montage of people healing and reuniting while in the background Laios and Shuro whale on each other remains SO funny. Flawless comedic timing.

.

Alright, hot take time: I feel like all the debate I've seen about the Shuro/Laios fight depict it as revealing the friendship basically shattered, and never real in the first place. Whereas I'm mostly warmed by how real it clearly was despite everything that just happened?

Shuro is operating on no food and less sleep, desperate to save the woman he idolizes without truly understanding her loves, who is now apparently a monster who nearly slaughtered his most loyal followers. In the past like 2 weeks, Laios has: watched his sister die to save his life (his little sister, whom he is supposed to protect), walked headfirst into a nigh-unwinnable fight to get her back, held her skull in his hands, got her back and held her in his arms, lost her again about 6 hours later in an even more unwinnable fight, which was proven even more unwinnable when the Mage twisted the dungeon itself against them, saw her again but as a murderous monster now (which might be due to the magic he agreed to use to resurrect her), swiftly and sternly resigned himself to fighting and potentially killing her (his little sister! whom he is supposed to protect!), had her recognize him (and no one else!) despite her monstrosity, watched her be killed (again!) in part thanks to him distracting her, except it didn't work and then she fled.

This is an immature, ignoring-immediate-needs (ie, food, healing) knock-down drag-out fight between two men at the absolute ends of their ropes, who, sure, have built-up resentments against each other and the world, and an inciting incident pushing them over the edge - but mostly neither of them can punch in the face the fact that they can't save Falin. So they punch each other instead.

I won't even address the prologue to the fight, where Laios tells him about the black magic and Shuro promptly tries to strangle him then levels a sword at him. Kabru already nailed that: Shuro was worried about Falin - that the magic had hurt her, that the social consequences would be worse. Laios knew this enough that he didn't fight back, then. But now?

The first shove is Shuro demanding, Don't you fucking DARE give me false hope.

I cannot emphasize enough how hard I would also slap someone for suggesting that I wasn't taking the death and monsterization of my younger sibling seriously.

Shuro knows it, too. He doesn't respond to this, he just punches, and Laios punches back. Shuro doesn't speak again until Laios knocks him all the way down, and

Shuro is at his absolute depth. The lowest point he (feels that he) can go. He cannot save Falin. He's shamed himself as a leader and heir by getting his people killed (they got better, but that's beside the point.) He's been beaten in hand-to-hand combat by this idiot northern peasant. He lets down his guard and pride enough to mutter this self-deprecation aloud...and the idiot northern peasant hears, compounding every shame - and it's infuriating especially because he doesn't even hear properly, just like he never hears properly - he's so frustrating in his friendly but oblivious constant irritation and THIS, Shuro can still be furious about, to avoid his grief/hopelessness/self-loathing/shame. This, he can still fight about!

So he does.

They're both wrong in this fight. They're both right. Laios was consistently inconsiderate; knowing this about himself - because it's not like by his early 20s he didn't know that he didn't Get people the way most people Get people - he should've made more of an effort, and picked up any of the hints Shuro was laying down. Shuro was too caught up in his own pride and out-of-place manners: when it was clear that Laios wasn't going to pick up on even the strongest "hint", he should've said something plainly instead of just letting his resentment build until he was effectively lying to Laios about, if not their entire friendship, certainly the shape of it.

But they were friends. They are friends. This isn't the posture or conversation of two guys who don't like each other.

It's two guys who are still, in fact, fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally - but they just got rid of a lot of extra, furious, helpless energy, so they're finally satisfied to just sit. Their posture is relaxed and casual; their conversation straightforward and companionable, if serious.

This is two guys who've sat like this many time at a campfire, in just these poses. Who've kept watch together late at night and stayed awake by talking.

Laios cares about Falin more than anyone in the world, and even after the words and blows they just exchanged, he's still willing to put Shuro's suit to her. Shuro didn't tell Falin he was interested in her until he proposed to her, but he's telling it all to Laios. Admittedly, this is because Laios is, Shuro assumes, the closest he'll ever get to being able to tell it all to Falin...but still. And he admits vulnerability, which he clearly wouldn't have done before, even to his most loyal and loved companions as they urged him to eat and sleep.

Yeah, they're buddies. If I had to describe it, I'd say: their relationship was built on unsteady, false foundations, but they built something sturdy on it anyway, and the sturdy thing survives even when the foundations shake and re-settle.

Lol at Shuro. "I'm going to report you to the local authorities for your crimes because it's the right thing to do. But if you survive, I'll totally use my power and influence to help you flee the country, and live peacefully on my estate beyond where an extradition treaty can reach you."

[dirthavhenan]

Theory: Who has Solas unleashed upon Thedas?

Because I have not seen many theories yet on the identities of the figures that Solas brought through the Fade, I wanted to share my own for future me to point and laugh at, and for current theorists to rip to shreds. Obviously, this post will talk about and feature screen-caps of the Veilguard gameplay reveal, as well as small spoilers for the other games in the Dragon Age series, so proceed with caution if you aren’t all caught up! This is going to be a looooong post, so buckle in and bear with me; I have been working on perfecting this and stitching up any loopholes since the premiere, honestly.

Moonhead | Andruil

The identity of the figure on the left is one that I am almost entirely confident in: Andruil.

I will refer to them as “Moonhead,” as that is their most common name in the fandom (despite my disagreement on the shape, but I will elaborate on that in a bit). 

Moonhead appears more monstrous in their form than previous depictions of the Evanuris. In almost every instance of the pantheon throughout Thedas, the elvhen gods have seemed similar in appearance to mortal elves. In comparison to the figure on the right, who seems at least somewhat resemblant of Solas, Moonhead seems almost nightmarish in their appearance, a manifestation of chaos—a visage that could easily mirror Andruil and her descent into madness. 

This could also be supported by the previous depictions of the goddess, such as the one shown below; in the Temple of Mythal that we explore in the Arbor Wilds, Andruil is portrayed with what seem like, though it is hard to tell for certain due to the way that the tiles blend together, tentacles wrapping around her form and her bow, tentacles reflected in the appearance of Moonhead.

If we stray from the gameplay itself to a previous depiction of this figure revealed in the concept art below (I have been trying to find an original source for this for hours but cannot track it down, but I remember it being released), we see that they are holding a spear with a molten end. In a codex entry that can be looted, Unreadable Elven Writing, Andruil is depicted with “an elaborate golden spear, glowing with unbearable heat.” Additionally, in Song to Sylaise, the goddess is said to have breath that “…rivals Andruil’s spear.” No other member of the pantheon is paired specifically with a weapon like this, which supplies what I believe is the most concrete evidence we currently have that this figure is Andruil.

The most speculative and unsubstantiated evidence that I have is the shape of their head. So many have dubbed this figure as Moonhead, and, well, yes, it does look like a moon, but look closer—specifically in the depiction in what many have called the “tambourine,” in the cinematic released in 2022, the symbol farthest to the right.

This symbol looks more like a bow than a moon, which would definitely make sense paired with the goddess of the hunt; I believe that their head is not a moon, but a bow.

That is all that I currently have for the identity of Moonhead, or… Bowhead, rather. I feel like it is fairly concrete that this is Andruil, or at least more evident than the rest of the pantheon. The figure on the right, or “Beetle,” as the fandom has called him, is one that I am really unsure about, and have very little actual evidence to go on… like, comically little, barely-deserving-of-a-section-of-a-post-little. Basically pure speculation.

Beetle | Elgar’nan

I am conflicted on this, but I do believe that it is Elgar’nan, which, obviously, would bode kind of horribly for Rook and Co… certainty of death kind of horribly, considering that he is the first and likely the most powerful, but hear me out.

If we take a closer look at the tambourine of symbols in the 2022 cinematic, Beetle seems to have the largest and most centric of all of them, which leads me to believe that Beetle is none other than the Father of the pantheon.

In Origins, we find various skulls representing the Evanuris. In my opinion, the skull of Elgar’nan seems to be the most reminiscent, to me, of the shape of Beetle’s head.

That’s it—that is literally the only evidence (if you can even call it that) I have for him, but I don’t know… the tambourine aspect really seems to point to Beetle being Elgar’nan.

The Final Two Theory | The Strongest Survive

I wanted to explore a theory briefly, to add to the evidence, the belief that there are only two elvhen gods left alive. There could be more than two survivors of Solas’ actions, but I believe that these two, at least, are the only ones that we will see in Veilguard, if not ever.

Beetle and Moonhead are the only ones represented in the Dread Wolf mural, which could mean that they are either the most powerful of the Evanuris that we will face, or it could mean that no one else is left to face.

We see the tambourine representation of the pantheon once before the 2022 cinematic, actually, in the 2018 Game Awards teaser. Only two of the seven icons are gilded, the rest being lost to the shadows. The gilded icons have the same placement as the other tambourine, the middle and farthest to the right arrangement being used again. Perhaps the rest of the pantheon has been lost to the Void, and this is a representation of it.

On to how this supports my theory… I feel like Elgar’nan and Andruil being the sole survivors of the elvhen pantheon would make the most sense, as they are generally depicted as the strongest of the Evanuris, exempting Mythal, but she does not factor into consideration for... obvious reasons. Solas seems stricken with fear at the sight of the two gods, which could be a testament to his surprise at only their survival, or terror at the fact that the gods of vengeance and hunting have survived, and have had eternity to plan their revenge.

Well, that is all that I have! I would love to hear any differing opinions or other evidence that I could add to further amplify my theories, I will happily credit you for the edits! Feel free to point out any discrepancies in my argument or broken and misplaced links. Thank you for reading if you made it this far, I know it is a lot. Dareth shiral! 𐂂

[dangermousie]

The dynamic between Jiang Li and her husband continues to be FASCINATING to me and honestly, while man needs both serious jail time and serious therapy, he is the most interesting character in the drama to me. He saved her during the examination (it hinged solely on him whether she lost and had to go to the nunnery or won and stayed) but here this all comes to a boil point blank. Princess Wanning brings the charge of her actually being Xue Fangfei and when her other witness implodes, decides to use Shen Yurong to prove her identity.

(Side note: loving that she managed to put in a dig about him loving her even in the middle of this! She's unhinged as fuck, is this really the time for one of her games?)

The problem is if you push someone enough they will break or hit back and honestly, Shen Yurong is at the stage where he's reached both. Maybe if she did this right after she made him kill his wife, he'd be in such terror etc he'd agree with anything she said and did. But he's been living haunted by what he did and wandering his mansion clutching his hair for months; he's dug up the grave like a mad person, and she's abused and humiliated and ground him down non stop since then (and at one point almost killed him), basically smacking down any time he tried to show any will or idealism and messing with even his career. He's just burned out. And if she can't control him by terror, she can't control him (he may feel some lust for her, who knows, but certainly not enough to derail his sanity or overcome his issues.) This man is a ghost and ghosts are not really controllable.

I love the intercut of him walking towards her in court as to how he walked when he tried to kill her because that is what he is flashbacking to and picturing in his head.

This is a dead man.

I am genuinely unsure as to whether he believes this is his wife who survived and is protecting her (because he didn't want to kill her and doing so thrust him into hell so he's trying to make amends/dealing with regrets/trying to appease his demons) or he's so utterly broken he believes his wife is dead no matter what he sees (because he needs to, to maintain some sanity) and so his denial sticks to that an also is making some sort of protection to his wife's doppelganger in her honor. I don't think even he is 100% sure because he's not 100% sane any longer. But I love it.

Love Li's face as princess loses her marbles in the background. For the rest of her revenge, it's very clear cut for Jiang Li - they are all monsters and for most of them she has no feeling and never had (the Jiangs, the princess, the new magistrate etc.) But the thing with the husband is so complex - she hates him but she loved him, he married her and killed her, he killed her under duress and is living in hell but HE KILLED HER and it's all such a mess. Whether she ultimately kills him or not, this is the target who haunts her the most.

This is amazing. He's found the courage of despair and a spine because being spineless made it all worse. Once again, he's got nothing to lose so what can you threaten him with? (By making his life so bleak, she's taken away a lot of his fear of death.)

OMG, he SNAPS!!! My jaw dropped open.

She's really lost it. It shows what a loose cannon she is btw. Even if Shen Yurong was saner and more terrified of her, at least coordinate with him earlier, psycho! Even a fully rational man with zero pangs of conscience and genuine fondness for you (we are 0 for 3 here with SYR btw) might decide admitting this is his wife would lead to big issues for him and not bother.

I am beginning to heavily bet he murders her. He was fail at first murder (seriously, there is no sufficiently describing the fail - he hit his wife with a shovel and she didn't even get a concussion; he buried her so shallowly and in such loose soil she was able to climb out with arms tied and without any martial skills) but practice makes perfect.

[stardustbuck]

Honestly -

Most of these ‘fans’ do not like Buck for Buck. They have created a version of him in canon and anything he does that doesn’t fit it it’s OOC for them, even if it is exactly how he’d act (case in point: The BT scene on 710). They, somehow, cannot accept Buck has changed and matured and is not the same guy he was during S2/S3. Hell, he’s grown alone during S7 alone. Discovering a part of himself has done wonders for him.

Likewise, I truly believe the only representation they care about or want is if it comes in the form of Buddie. They cry on how Henren is being ignored and how it is BuckTommy’s fault, but when have they ever shown care or interest for them beforehand? They use them as part of their argument without giving them proper attention. They don’t care we now have great mlm representation on screen in a show like 911, they’re just mad because it is not Buddie.

And I do suspect they became this mad this fast because they do see the potential of BT and they know this can very well be a LTR for Buck. Ofc we don’t know what will happen, but if we look at it from a neutral POV, we all can see the seeds being planted for Tommy to be there for a while. They’ve made creative choices with him that they haven’t made with no other LI that really sells it for me, to be honest.

(Including giving them a particular sound for everytime they have a moment, but I digress)

I do agree with you - I care about Buck being happy. I was quick to get on board with BT because I have never seen Buck act so giddy and into someone. And so far, I think Tommy is matching him really well. We’ll see what happens in Season 8, but I would be surprised if they break up during it, even more so if it is ep 3/4, which arguably will be right after the start of the season (assuming they go for a multi eps opener)

If I'm being honest, the toxic side of that part of the fandom feels very reminiscent of certain subset of another fandom I'm apart of that I do not want to delve into because I've already done so many times.

get ready for a long response

I came into the 911 fandom as bvddie shipper, I still love the ship itself, idc if it ever goes canon because fanfic exists, edits exist, fanart exists. I love eddie and buck as separate characters respectively and I do not need them to be together enjoy their relationship whether it's platonic or romantic.

I think a lot of the loud, toxic shippers cannot separate them. Listen I think the co-parent jokes are hilarious and cute, but when it comes down to it in reality of the show, buck is not chris' parent. he's like an uncle, so many ppl grow up with their parents friends as their "aunts and uncles" and that's exactly how I'm viewing chris and bucks relationship ever since I've come down from the bvddie high of analyzing everything and putting meaning behind every little piece of dialogue or set design or just like anything. I can acknowledge 911 is not a blockbuster franchise that has months or years of thought put into meaning behind set design or clothing choices like other fandoms I'm apart of that absolutely have so much thought and time put into them for things like that.

bvddie in itself is a great concept. absolutely you can read into scenes as being romantic even if they never were intended that way, that's what we do as fans. I completely understand why ppl see them as endgame because they're absolutely allowed to think that. but us bucktommy shippers are allowed to also talk about why we think bucktommy is endgame. I think that's another issue ppl are having is being able to curate their own feed, if you don't want to see people talk about one of these topics then block accs, block tags, keep your peace!

buck and tommy absolutely feel as though they have been written to last from what I've seen so far so tommy leaving so quickly would feel weird and like a punch in the gut to the journey buck as made. he made the effort to be with tommy even after everything went south. tommy made the effort to show up for buck. we are shown them being on very good terms by the season finale, like, we are probably intimate with one another and are in our cute honeymoon phase type of good terms. having them break up so early would be another Ali/Natalia moment and like, I just am tired of the same story being repeated for buck.

If they really were going for bvddie endgame, I think it would have been done this season. tommy wouldn't have been brought in at all or wouldn't have been involved in the plot outside helping rescue bobby and athena. they didn't need kim there, they could have built on eddies catholic guilt for his queer arc, they could have written what people were theorizing with the bachelor party where buck and eddie ended up kissing while drunk which could have spurred their relationship to begin and still have eddie go through a crisis and found a way to have chris still leave for texas (if they wanted to stick with a cheating arc, it could have been marisol & chris walking in on buck and eddie kissing) like there's so many things people theorized that genuinely would have been great ways to have bvddie be endgame but literally none of those things happened and instead we got buck in a stable, happy relationship with tommy that has been set up in a way that absolutely can have them going through all sorts of things from strengthening their relationship to testing their relationship. tommy can absolutely be integrated into the plot as much as karen is if not more. all I can say is why throw away such potential when you already had the other potential there?

also as an eddie diaz defender, they can never make me hate eddie diaz, I just want to see him not feel this constant need to find a new mom/wife when he's never had time for himself EVER. he needs therapy, he needs to build back trust with christopher, he needs to stop searching for this perfect woman because if there's someone out there for him they will find him eventually. I really want eddie to focus on chris and himself and stop worrying so much about what his life should look like per his family/what society thinks his life should look like.

I truly cannot stress enough how much eddie needs to fix himself and his and chris' relationship before jumping into another romance, whether it be buck or anyone else.

on the other hand, buck deserves to be loved ANYWAYS. tommy is already showing potential to just love buck anyways despite anything that happens, that he'll do anything for him, that he can be his rock. gerrard can definitely be smh to shake them up, no couple in this show is safe from anything no matter how in love and happy they are. it's time for buck to have his madney, bathena, henren moments with his own love interest. buck deserves to be happy with tommy, to go through the hard times with him, for someone to love him no matter what and that absolutely does not take away from how important buck and eddie's friendship is. people cannot seem to grasp that unfortunately and it's sad.

in other words, im so tired of people acting like they are superior over ships. I truly am.

[harryforvogue]

happy may the fourth LMFAOAOAOOAOAOAOAOAO sorry this is more than a month late and sorry for the horrendously rushed sex scene. i am bad at smut now <3 2.1k

***

Harry looks down at the notecards, his dinner abandoned besides his hands. He flips through a few of the cards while Yasmine slurps obnoxiously on her pasta to get him to scowl at her, but he’s too captivated by his extreme nerd behavior. Honestly, it’s embarrassing for him.

He finally settles on a card and clears his throat. “What is the name of Leia and Han’s child?”

“Oh,” Yasmine mumbles as she swallows. “Um, the hot guy.”

Harry gives her a weird look. “He’s not hot, but sure.”

“I mean, from a certain angle,” she says. “I don’t need to explain the appeal of Adam Driver to you, nerd.”

“Er, okay. What’s his name?”

“Kyle.”

Harry stares at her for a second before he puts the note cards down and scrubs his face with his hands. “No, his name is not Kyle!”

“I know it’s not! It’s Kylo. But I always think it’s Kyle so my brain goes to Kylo next because I know everyone has weird ass names in Star Wars.”

“Don’t say Kyle next time! That’ll be a deduction!”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“I can tell you didn’t study my notes!”

“Your nerd notes? Yeah I didn't! I had better things to do!”

Harry pulls his hands away from his now red face. “Like what?”

“Like making the dinner you’ve not even thanked me for!” Yasmine snaps.

Harry blinks. He glances at his dinner and then murmurs an apology, abandoning his cards behind to eat his food. “Thank you.”

“Shut up.”

He sighs and continues eating. 

Yasmine only stays mad for two minutes. Then, she’s talking. “My costume came in yesterday by the way. Are we still doing the secret thing?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “And don’t feel stupid about dressing up, alright? Think of it as Halloween.”

“Nerd Halloween,” Yasmine mutters.

Harry looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. “You’ve called me a nerd three times already.” He takes a deep breath. “Which outfit of Padme’s did you pick?”

“Padme? I’m going as Chewbacca.”

“Hilarious.” 

Harry stands up with his plate and walks over to the other side of the table, sitting beside her. 

Yasmine looks at him. “Why did you move?”

“To be closer to you?”

“Oh.”

Harry throws an arm over her shoulder. “Am I not romantic enough? Yasmine, I swear you act like I’ve never touched you by the way you act sometimes.”

She scoots her chair closer to him. “Untrue.”

He raises his hand to gently caress her cheek. Yasmine turns her head to bite his finger.

“See?” Harry sighs, prying his finger away. “Be normal.”

“I can’t be. I have a nerd boyfriend who likes to touch me too much.” Yasmine brightens. “And you’ll touch me a lot more when you see my dress for tomorrow.”

Harry’s wiping his finger. “Which one did you pick? The one from Attack of the Clones?”

“Um.”

“The second movie.”

“Er.”

“The white one.” Harry drops his head to the table, groaning. “Oh we’re never going to win tomorrow.”

“You should just take one of your other nerd friends, Harry. I know you want that Lego Star Command–”

Harry groans louder. “Star Destroyer.”

“--whatever. I know you want it so maybe you should take someone else.”

He turns his head to glance at her. He takes a deep breath and then sits up, letting the color drain from his face. “No. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re going to yell at me.”

“Lovingly.”

“I’ll bite your head off.”

“Lovingly?” Harry asks weakly.

“No.”

“Anyways. Is it the white dress?”

“The one that’s ripped around the stomach? No.”

Harry looks very interested then. He slides closer. “The black one?”

“No.”

“The blue one?”

“Yes. Which one are you thinking of?”

“The one that looks like a nightgown.”

“No,” Yasmine says thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have done that. Mine is the other one.”

“Yasmine, Padme wear blue a lot.”

“Do you want to see it?”

Harry pauses. Yasmine can tell that he’s going through all the outfits Padme has ever worn that are blue. He comes to the same conclusion as she did days ago when looking for an outfit: the blue ones are the sexy ones. 

His eyes narrow. “Show me yours if I show you mine?”

“Deal.”

Harry stands first. He takes their empty dinner plates to the kitchen and then goes to their room to bring out the two packages of outfits. He tosses Yasmine hers and then proceeds to bring her to the livingroom to open them together.

They decided early on they’d wear a couple costume: Anakin and Padme.

(Yasmine secretly hoped Harry would wear the whole Darth Vader suit with the helmet, but that’s something to unpack at a later time.)

Harry pulls out the Anakin costume, holding it to his body. “Hope it fits.”

Yasmine imagines him in it, the pants sticking wonderfully to his thighs, his hand grasping a large lightsaber. 

“Go put it on.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You put yours on too.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They stare at each other before Yasmine grabs her outfit and goes to the bathroom.

When she returns, Harry’s changed into his as well, swinging around a red lightsaber expertly.

“Oh,” Yasmine says, stopping in her tracks.

“Fuck,” Harry says at the same time.

The outfit fits him so well. As expected, the pants are tight around his upper thighs, but Harry’s just gifted in that department, so it’s normal. Still. He looks mouthwateringly…well, hot.

He’s got sort of a wild look in his eye at the sight of her. With narrowed eyes, he walks backwards until he sits on the couch, holding his hand out.

Yasmine shuffles close, unused to the dress. It’s a bit too long on her.

“Wow.”

Yasmine takes his hand. His fingers trail up to her wrist.

It’s too quiet in here. 

His other hand raises.

He runs his fingers over her bare stomach. The top is just short enough to land by her sternum, leaving a few pairs of ribs exposed. She shivers at his touch and when she goes to move away instinctively, he grabs her wrist.

Yasmine fidgets under his gaze. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Harry murmurs.

“Look at me.”

“You hate it when I look at you?”

“Yes.”

Harry tightens his hand on Yasmine’s wrist. “Get used to it.” Then he yanks her closer. Pulls her into his lap. “You are beautiful. I could stare at you all day long.”

“It’s just the dress.”

He laughs, just inches away from her skin. Fire erupts in her stomach. “No. Definitely not just the dress.”

Yasmine shudders as Harry leans in to kiss her neck. Her fingers tremble when she clutches his hair, staring up at the ceiling. Pleasure runs through her, landing between her legs.

She loves when Harry gets like this: so desperate to have her close, hands grabbing without a care of how rough he’s being. All he knows is that he wants her body attached to his. And it’s incredibly enticing how he shows it. He tilts his head back so that she can reach his lips. Her fingers plunge into the soft wilds of his messy, shoulder length hair. He hums and kisses her back, hard.

The dark color looks so good on him. He’s long known that black and brown look especially good on him (and Yasmine reminds him of this often to ensure he’s continuing to fill his closet with those colors). Seeing him in this outfit…Yasmine supposes she’s the nerd as well now.

She hardly cares.

With a soft maneuver, she presses herself against his growing bulge. Harry groans softly, detaching his mouth from hers. She grasps his hair tighter. His lips trail down to her neck again where he buries his face and grabs her waist. No matter how many times he makes that noise, it always sends her on a downward spiral.

“Harry,” she whispers, rocking herself against him now. His fingers grip her waist.

“Yes, baby?”

And his voice! His breathy, desperate voice.

“I wanna do something.”

“Yeah, let’s go upstairs.”

But the mere thought of going upstairs – the mere thought of parting from Harry long enough to make it there – threatens to disrupt whatever they have going on. So Yasmine slides away from Harry, but before he can stand, she sits before him on her knees.

Harry freezes.

Yasmine reaches for the sole button on his trousers.

“Oh,” Harry says. “Fuck.”

Yasmine touches her wrists in hopes of finding a hair tie there, but when she finds none, she frowns deeply up at him. Harry shakes his head and carefully pulls her hair up into a makeshift ponytail, making sure all her curtain bangs are out of her face. “I’ve got it, Yas.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, though she feels silly afterwards.

“Yeah.”

Harry lifts his hips long enough for Yasmine to get him out of the trousers. She scoots closer so that she can get his boxer briefs off as well. Harry’s hold on her hair tightens. She reaches out to wrap her fingers around him, giving him a long stroke.

“Fuck,” Harry murmurs. It’s music to Yasmine’s ears. She strokes him again, bringing him to full hardness. There’s a soft flush on Harry’s neck and face, and his thighs are tense. Oh how she loves his thighs.

She loves them enough that before she wraps her mouth around him, she bends down to kiss his thighs. 

She glances up at him as she does, enjoying the small twist of his lips when he looks back down at her. Now, she doesn’t mind his gaze. Because despite the implications, Harry is most certainly not in charge right now. She is.

After biting down on his thigh – just to hear his sharp hiss – Yasmine opens her mouth and takes him in.

His thighs tighten even more. 

Yasmine presses her tongue against him. Harry’s fingers grip her hair when she sucks gently at his tip. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, tilting his head back. “Fuck me.”

Yasmine’s stomach flutters. She watches him, enjoying the rise of his chest, the strain of his neck with the beautiful vein protruding every so often. Harry’s head turns to look down at her suddenly, hips rising just barely to meet her mouth.

He gives her a look.

She nods.

He blows air from his mouth and gently thrusts into her mouth, careful and soft despite the firm grip on her hair.

“If I’d known,” he murmurs, “that you’d get like this, I’d have tried the outfit on even sooner.”

Yasmine gasps softly as she pulls off of him. “It’s not only the outfit.”

He laughs, wiping the corner of her lips, which should be damn well embarrassing or weird, but neither of them seem to care. She wraps her mouth around him again, cutting off his laughter with a groan.

After a few moments, her dress begins to slip from her shoulders. Harry’s eyes catch the movement right away and his hips stutter. She’d make a joke but there are more concerning matters presently. Having been with him for a long time, Yasmine knows exactly what he likes: how she should use her tongue, her hands, her eyes that blink up at him all pretty.

“So pretty,” Harry mumbles, on cue. She feels him run his thumb over her cheek as if there’s something to be endeared about right now.

Just before he’s about to come, Harry pulls on her hair and gets her to pull off so he could bend down and kiss her mouth, and then let her tug on him.

“Not on the dress please,” Yasmine says, voice shot.

“I’ll try, baby.”

He manages quite well actually, especially with Yasmine’s effort to move out of the way, letting him spill over her hand instead. His desperate whimpers keep Yasmine’s eyes glued to him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Harry protests softly when her hand keeps moving over him. “That’s enough.”

Grinning, Yasmine fixes her dress and grabs a few tissues from the coffee table to wipe her hand.

“Maybe instead of going to the trivia night, we can do more of this tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Harry hums, still catching his breath. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come on. This is so much more fun!”

He tucks himself back in and holds his hand out, making her climb into his lap. “No.”

“You’re such a –”

“Nerd?” He laughs, grabbing the back of her neck. “I am.” And then he kisses her slowly, clearly having no issue with what they’ve just done. “Thank you.”

Yasmine hopes her face accurately portrays the glare she thinks she’s putting on. Harry’s eyes are soft and filled with love – but that’s entirely unhelpful because they always are. 

“Just don’t break up with me when I say that Han Solo is Luke’s father.”

Harry holds her tighter. “I’ll try not to.” Then he grabs her waist, pulling her to him. He stands easily, keeping her balanced on him, her legs tight about his torso. “Come on. I’ve got a favor to repay. And the dress stays on, understood?”

Yasmine shivers, despite herself. "Understood."

[youkaiyume]

Alright, I have finally gotten through the rest of Bridgerton Season 3 Part 2 (twice) now, and I do have some thoughts. I am going to be splitting what I liked and what I didn't into different posts.

This one will be all the things I did not love.

Spoilers below.

--

Overally I'm not quite sure how to feel? While I'm happy with where they ended, I thought how they got there was extremely rough. And it's not as if I don't like a bit of drama, but the amount of stress and heartbreak in between was too much. Perhaps I should have kept away from the Bridgerton interviews because they really set my expectations high, for certain things.

From the delirious high of Episode 5 that really gave us everything, to the lows of the Whistledown reveal hanging over us in the rest of the season, I truly was befuddled on my couch at 2 AM. I expected Colin to be angry with Pen about Whistledown, but I truly did not expect for them to go into their wedding and then well into their marriage not having hashed out these wounds or accepting one another fully.

When Colin accused her of entrapment it was truly crushing, especially when he had so passionately denied to her mother before of this very accusation. Only now to throw it in her face and confirm all of her deepest fears and regrets. Even if he could not have reconciled her alter ego with Penelope I had hoped that he would assure her that he still loved her so that she could go into the chapel the next morning without feeling that he was only there out of obligation. When he said these things I was surprised that Penelope did not offer to withdraw from the engagement. Not only if he was so clearly unhappy but also I couldn't believe that she would marry him knowing this is what he thought of her. This would have been great for the official reveal when she is up on stage making her speech to the ton, where he was standing by her side to speak. Not literally, I understand the importance of wanting her to step into her power by herself in the spotlight, but it would have been nice to see her doing it knowing she had the full support and love of her husband.

Instead, she went up there believing that he would want to annul the marriage, and that she had done this in a way to secure her and her family's future without him--because she--and WE have been told this entire season that a woman has to look out for herself. How wonderful it would have been to be proven wrong--that she is not alone.

Don't get me wrong, I did feel in the way he looked at her during the wedding and when they danced that there is a clear longing and love for her despite their rift. And when he said their vows I genuinely felt that he meant them and wanted nothing more to be hers. It's clear despite everything, deep down he still wants that happy ending with her, but the show sure spent the entire time having them not talk about their feelings.

Again, I had fully thought that by the time they were married he accepted her, and the the entire plot revolving Cressida's blackmail would be him fully trying to protect and support his wife because he loved all of her and feared for her safety. Instead, it came off like he was protecting Penelope because she was a Bridgerton now and he didn't want this to sully their good name. Not even the line about him being mad about someone blackmailing his wife was enough for me. I will temper this once again with it was clear that of course he still loved and was beginning to understand her, especially when he made his plea to Cressida to spare Penelope.

Don't get me wrong, I love angst but I did not think it would drag on until the last moments of the series. And it's the kind of marriage that I also did not like for Season 1, where Daphne and Simon spent most of their time married apart. My stomach really dropped when I realized 'oh, we're doing this again...' And yes we did get a brief "honeymoon" period tho this is misleading when the actors promoted it because it took place during their engagement before the reveal. But even then we could not fully enjoy the moments when they were blissfully happy because Penelope's secret hung so heavily over them.

It is certainly complex all of the feels he's having--loving her, angry and betrayed by her, feeling deep sympathy for her while also envying her success. Penelope feeling like he can't love all these parts of her even if they're not perfect, her constant regret, not wanting to give up her voice--it's all too much for them and it was clear they did not have time to unpack all of this in the time they had. I feel like we needed at least one extra episode or two.

And to add insult to injury, we took up so much time panning back to Benedict's sexcapades. And look, don't get me wrong I was giggling like a schoolgirl when we got confirmed bi-benedict. But also I felt like the times we flashed back to him in the bedroom was too much. In fact I was slightly confused because the way it was shot/the same location made me think they were just returning to the same sex scene over and over again. As if the entire plot was happening over days and Ben hasn't been able to take off his shirt yet! Trapped forever in an endless night instead of it reading like 'this is several trysts that he's had.' I don't need these many scenes to understand that he's enjoying his newfound sexuality. Especially by comparison we got so little of Polin in their own season--both as a couple and promised spicy moments--they spent so much of it apart!

And then!! There is Eloise!! There's a lot I can say about Eloise, but the main one for right now is just how much her self absorption continues to shine through. The way she just treats her supposed friends like convenient audiences to talk to, and immediately ignores them when they have problems of their own. They way she cannot be bothered to truly learn or care about a single thing about them unless it affects her in some way.

Truly my flabber was gasted when she told Pen it was a good thing Cressida should take the fall, only to turn around and deny Cressida any help in her fake Whistledown paper when it would have solved all of their problems. Like, you know Cress is lying! Just help her out, you know she's desperate to save herself and it would also save Pen! Even if Cress took the mantle briefly and then retired by saying she quit because she is now unmasked that would have been ideal.

Instead she walked away and is now shocked when Cressida decides to talk shit about everyone including the Bridgerton family. Prompting Pen to come out of hiding (at your behest!!!) to save your ass AGAIN with Whistledown--which by the way Eloise was so very pleased and grateful for the next morning. And then truly said thanks for that sis, sorry that blew up your engagement tho lol sorry I won't try to help out with that or support you at all. Like. WTF. I could write essays on how Eloise continues to disappoint me despite my best hopes for her but you can tell I get a little ranty about her.

A little minor thing I am not sure how to feel now also is how Polin's son is now the Featherington heir. Like I know that's overall a good thing and I am pleased she won the baby race--it means Pen and Colin can now move into Featherington house and just live across the square and she's saved her mother and family. but also Pen knows that is a fortune she is claiming to be from her Whistledown earnings is actually stolen money--A crime that her now husband tried in Season 2 to return to the rightful members of the ton. I can't imagine he'd feel completely okay with that... unless this is another secret she is keeping from him? I dunno, it's very messy. But also! I would have liked for Colin and Pen to have spent some time actually traveling child free together on an actual honeymoon. (Did they even get to honeymoon????) But Colin immediately knocked her up their first time together he's too powerful I guess.

Anyway, I have good things to say too, I'll probably post about them later.

[nectardaddy]

dirty dancing - higuruma hiromi

cw: MDNI, highly (and I mean highly) suggestive, talk of sex, teasing/suggestive banter, dirty dancing, mild degradation [use of the word "whore" at reader], pet names [honey, baby], drinking, drunkenness, language, she/her (ma'am is used once), reader calls him an old man but there's not an age gap

notes: minors if you interact with this AT ALL you're getting blocked on sight, established relationship, written in the lens of him so it's a bit bitter, maybe a bit ooc? but he's drunk so I'll use that as an excuse, lmk if I missed any warnings

Higuruma much prefered bars over clubs, no longer a fan of the drunk antics that came along with the sleazy aesthetic. Being a bit older, and a bit wiser, he had sense enough to tell you no when you asked if he'd rather frequent a club.

But all it took for him to cave was a sickly sweet "please" and to gaze at him lovingly, batting your pretty eyes as you looked up at him. Finding himself eating his words once you dressed yourself in practically nothing, all for the sake of going out. Good god why did he say yes?

It took all but his very will to let you out of the house like that, better yet a venue where the whole point was to garner a few looks amongst the sea of people who danced. Thinking to himself, you'd get more than just a few, he'd have to all but cover you the entire night - he'd be damned if anyone dared to look you over.

He stayed at the bar majority of the night, allowing you to do god knows with friends you had met up with throughout. Nursing a whiskey and sighing like this was his last stand, he was a little too old to be occupying places like this. Sure, there were people well over his age patronizing the club; but this, truly, was not his forte anymore.

Cheeks already dusted pink, and his mind swimming gently, he rolled his eyes as he set his empty glass back on the bar. 'All for the sake of you having fun,' he thought. The music was too loud and shitty, at best, and those who sat next to him were sloshed and obnoxious. Why did he say yes?

Dark eyes met with your own as he watched you make your way towards him, laughing and stumbling as you were too drunk for your own good. Lights dancing off your skin, a ghost of a smile etched on his features. 'As long as you're having fun.'

But his eyes went wide as he felt your fingers grab at his tie and pull, seeing the playful glint in your eyes made him swallow hard. In that moment he realized you had every capability of completely breaking him. "Come on, old man," your speech slurred from the amount of alcohol you had. "You look pitiful just sitting there, I honestly feel bad for you."

"I'm a charity case now?" He questioned, all the while allowing you to pull him along. He was a wholeheartedly, down right, whipped bastard for you. Letting you pull him along, by his tie of all things, like a love struck puppy, through a sea of people.

"No," you reassured with a laugh. "You're my project." Voice loud from the music and people around, he felt his jaw tighten at your words. Hand still wrapped around the black fabric of the tie, you pulled down, forcing him to your level with a smirk. Dear god you were going to be the death of him. "I'm going to make you have fun," you mused. "You're going to dance with me - and you're going to love it."

He'd be lying if he said your words didn't scratch an itch in his brain, "yes ma'am." Letting just a touch of sarcasm grace his statement as it fell from his lips. He certainly knew dancing in a place like this was far from modest, borderline erotic as his eyes scanned his surroundings before returning to you. You were going to drive him mad, out right corrupt him where he stood.

While he knew it would be scandalous, this was point blank debauchery.

Slender fingers digging into the fabric covered skin of your hips as you, shamelessly, grinded against his crotch. His brain short circuited and his mouth went dry, he couldn't think a single coherent thought as your ass against his hips was all consuming. He could have sworn the last of his whiskey hit him right then and then, that was the only compelling reason, for him at least, to his actions.

"You're doing this on purpose," a sinful whisper in your ear, being so close he could feel every inch of you. The satisfying shudder your body felt from his words alone was enough to have him continue. "Honey, if you wanted to fuck, you could've just said that," he mused. "You didn't have to come out here to dance like a whore."

"Where's the fun in that, baby?" You asked rhetorically. Unfortunately for him, you turned, the delicious feeling completely ceased as you faced him. Looking into your eyes, the playful glint had turned - a warped desire taking its place as you gazed up at him. Hard pressed against him, the swarm of people around making the distance between practically non existent. He all but completely lost it.

"Tell your friends we're leaving," a quick statement, with a passionate force behind it that made you weak at the knees. Tired eyes now filled with lust and determination, you swore you felt your heart skip a beat. "If you want to dance like a whore, I'll treat you like one."

I haven't written anything this suggestive in a hot minute so I hope I tagged everything oof. Eat it up!

[samandcolbyownme]

I saw you asked for a Jared request, so here it is :). Can we get a Jared imagine where the reader has a kid from a previous relationship, and how would they (Jared and kid) get along

Nothing Changes | Jared Bailey

Warnings: i don’t think there’s any.. if there is let me know!

Word Count: 1.1k | unedited

Ｓｉｘ • ｍｏｎｔｈｓ • ａｇｏ

You still couldn’t believe you were here, sitting at a restaurant waiting for this man to show up.

A part of you thought you were being punked, even thought you had countless phone and FaceTime calls to prove that this was actually happening.

You stood up as soon as you seen him walk in.

He walks over to you, a beautiful smile on his face and all you can do is babble about how sorry you are for being so early.

“Hey, hey. I’m actually late..” he looks down at his watch and back up to you, “So, you were actually right on time.”

You both sit down and he can’t help but look at you. You look up at him and you can see his cheeks turning a slight red color as he laughs nervously, “Sorry, you’re just.. you’re so beautiful.”

His words make your heart flutter, “Oh.” You smile, looking down as your own cheeks turn red, “Thank you.”

A little while into the dinner, the question was just getting too much for you not to ask, “So. Can I ask you something?”

He nods, “Of course, what’s up?”

“Are you okay with the fact that I’m a mom?” You were instantly anxious, the look on his face was confusing, “I just.. he’s important to me and if you’re not go-“

“Nothing changes how I feel about you. In fact, I think it’s kind of hot that you’re a mom.” His words caught you off guard, but in a good way, “Oh, wow.” You smirk slightly, “Thank you.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t-“ Jared laughs and you reach out, touching his hand with yours, “No, don’t apologize.”

His eyes move from yours hand on his, up to your eyes and you knew he was going to be the one, or so you hoped.

Ｓｉｘ • ｍｏｎｔｈｓ •ｌａｔｅｒ

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

You look up at Jared and you nod, “Only if you are.. I know this.. is a big step, for both of us.”

“I plan on keeping you, and your son, in my life for as long as you’ll allow, okay?” Jared raises his brows and you smile, trying not to tear up at his words as you nod.

He pulls you in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “I love you, and I know I’m going to love that little boy just as much because he’s a part of you.”

Jared always knew how to calm you down, in more situations than one.

He was your safe place, the person you reopened yourself up to.

You wanted this to work.

“I love you.” You smile as he pulls you in, hugging you tighter as he leans back into the couch, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, relaxing into him until you hear the door open. You instantly sit up and look at Jared, “My kid’s home.”

He laughs, standing up to pull you with him, “I’m excited to meet him.”

“Mama!” You turn when you hear little feet running across the floor, growing louder as they get closer, “Mama!”

You turn around, bending down to pick the child up from the floor, “Hi, baby. Did you have a fun time with grandma?”

“Yes!” Mad yells as your mom walks in. She smiles and waves to Jared, “Hi honey.”

“Hello, Kelly. How are you?” Jared smiles and she nods, “can’t complain.” She laughs and you turn towards Jared, “Max, can you say hi to Jared?”

The boy looks up at Jared who’s smiling at him and shyly waves his hand before lunging towards him giggling.

Jared takes him and you watch as you smile, “Do you like him?”

Max laughs and looks at him, smiling when Jared turns his head, “Hi buddy.” Max wraps his arms around his neck and starts pointing when he sees his toys on the floor, “Toys!”

“You wanna show me your toys?” Jared sets max down and Max pulls him over by the finger. Your mom comes up, laying a hand on your shoulder, “I think you just lost your best friend spot.”

You laugh quietly, taking in Jared playing with Max, “I don’t mind. I think, this is going very well.

And it was.

Jared picked up on Max almost instantly. He helped as much as he could, he basically stepped into being a dad without even hesitating, but that’s because he loves you.

Thankfully, you had a few people in your group that you could trust, so you and Jared could go have ‘mommy and daddy date nights’ as Zach says.

You knew it was a lot, being a step dad and all, but Jared always reminded you that if it was too much, he wouldn’t have never agreed to meet your son in the first place.

He also always tells you that he’s glad he did.

——

Flash forward a few months and you’re standing at Max’s birthday party. You take a step back, shaking your head slightly as you take in the completely, and beautifully decorated venue.

“I told you it would be fine.” Y/f/n walks up to you, “If I didn’t know the situation, you’d think Max was actually Jared’s.”

You smile, shaking your head, “I don’t know what I was so afraid of.” You turn your head as you see Max running up to you, Jared following behind, “I’m four!”

You nod your head, looking between Jared and your friend, “You are four, honey! Good job!” You give max a hug and set him down so he can run and play with the other kids.

Your friend gives you a smirk before she walks away. You turn to Jared and you shake your head, “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

He cups your cheeks, “I know I didn’t have to, baby..” He plants a kiss to your lips, an arm wrapping around your waist, “I wanted to.”

You smile and pull him back in, “Thank you.” Your lips meet his and he smiles, “C’mon. Let’s go get you a dinosaur hat.”

——

I hope you liked this. I deleted it and rewrote it like three times. So I’m hoping third time’s the charm. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading, I love you so much!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[glitterpensupremacy]

(NOT MTS CONTENT) Alright, as a Miraculous fan (with a particularly vested interest in Chat Noir) I’m making my thoughts on the new Chat Noir look clear.

I’m not super upset that he doesn’t have a new outfit, since, let’s be honest, Ladybug and Carapace needed it WAY more than he did.

I’m also not that concerned about his new proportions. Yeah, they’re a little funny looking, it that might just be the camera angle. Either way, he’s getting older so it makes sense that his facial structure is changing (plus I give my own CN a slightly more angular face to indicate that he’s a sweet kid, sure, but there’s a lot more to him than just “good perfect bean”.

So then, what’s got me emotionally invested enough to make a Tumblr post? (By now it’s probably pretty obvious…)

The hair.

HERE’S THE THING THOUGH- it’s not that I think the hairstyle is bad or ugly. It’s very stylish, and the smooth swishy look would be more than welcomed on a different character. But that’s the problem, this is the wild and chaotic Chat Noir, the catboy of destruction who tells terrible puns. His hair should not be that neat, and it should not be that perfect (yeah it’s a little messy, but only enough to have that “effortless, natural look” you’d see in a shampoo ad)

Maybe I’m overreacting; after all, it’s just a hairstyle, and I’m treating it like it’s the end all be all for his character in Season Six. However… it’s not just the hair. While watching Season Five, I noticed that Chat Noir doesn’t really joke around as much as he did in previous seasons (especially in the second half of S5), and isn’t really allowed to get mad or be rebellious outside of when his role as the love interest needs him to (trying to cataclysm Dark Owl because of the Married LadyNoir vision, trying to cataclysm Dark Cupid because he’s being a protective boyfriend to Marinette, telling off Nighttormentor because Gabriel forced him to go to London, sure, but the show makes it clear that the REAL problem is him trying to keep Adrien and Marinette apart). Other than that, he’s the perfect well-behaved supportive partner.

In general, it feels like Chat Noir and Adrien are becoming more similar personalities, which is good: I think a lot of us have anticipated this happening for his character arc… but the problem is, Chat Noir is becoming more like Adrien rather than Adrien becoming Chat Noir, because isn’t his arc supposed to be breaking free of the perfect controlled persona his father has forced him into, learning to express himself and become his own person? (There’s also the fact that I think he’s a little more interesting to watch as Chat Noir or the more expressive early seasons Adrien, but his development is the more important issue here.)

This kinda thing has me worried that everyone who believes that the finale was bad on purpose (the secret dystopia route) and that the writer’s genuinely do want us to believe that Gabriel’s actions have been valid and ethical (THEY ARE NOT: BRO IS A TERRORIST 💀.) Either that, or they just want us to watch the cute shipping scenes and not really care about Adrien’s character outside of that. Kinda a bleak view, I know, but that’s how things have been looking lately. (Maybe they’re making him look neater as a part of the dystopia route though? I guess we’ll see but it seems unlikely…)

(I probably should reemphasize that I’m not actually getting this “doom and gloom conspiracy board” over JUST a haircut. It’s more like I saw a bunch of other (personal) warning signs over the last two seasons, and this is just one other thing making me more worried.)

I know this isn’t my usual stuff but I felt like I needed to air my grievances (especially since while I have seen other people not like the new hair, it doesn’t seem to be for the same reasons as me, seeing as I don’t even dislike the hairstyle itself; just the fact that Chat Noir’s the one who has it). Hopefully this was at least interesting or even validating, but if not… Well, I’ll get back to my normal content after this anyway.

[chickensoupbmc]

Have you noticed that Will Connolly Jeremy fanart so rarely looks like him? Makes me kinda mad honestly. He's got really interesting features. And like, not hard ones to capture either. The most obvious one to be wrong is usually his hair to me. Because why does no one give him a widow's peak? And I'm sort of genuinely asking that. Why not?? Like? Is it because people are trying to make him look more like a high schooler? Do they think it's, like, a receding hairline? I thought about that but I very genuinely do not think so.

I mean, his hairline looks the same in photos from when he was like 10-15 years younger than he is now so I really don't think it's receding ? +Idk why people would assume he wouldn't have a widows peak in general, it's really not a rare thing in any way ? I mostly see people draw him with a straight hairline and a side part that flips forward if you understand what I'm saying? And that's just... not how his hair looks?

Another thing is his nose. I'm pretty sure the weird upturned nose people oftentimes give him came mostly from Claudia Cacace ? But he definitely does not have an upturned nose ???? He very clearly has a very straight / pointy-ish nose ? That's a very recognizable part of his face to me? And it looks good? Why do people not draw it like that???

There are so many things I could yap about that make me confused and feel slightly upset about the way people tend to draw him but I'm pretty sure those are the main ones? Like, why do people not try to make their people look how they're supposed to? To me that's a very fun part of drawing people?

It's chill tho people can draw him however they want like im in no way saying it's BAD to change up his look, I just don't understand the thought process they go through when deciding to draw him in that way idk yalls