#haven’t written a snippet on here for a while

[darkfictionjude]

Jude hoe does Nia react to waking up to a breakfast in bed that Birdie made?

For a second I thought you were calling me a hoe

“What’s this?” She sits up, a curious expression in her sleepy eyes.

You lay the tray on her lap. She looks at the food as if she’s never seen eggs before.

“And what’s the occasion?”

“I just wanted to,” you reply with a smile.

She picks up the fork, stabs the scrabbles eggs and puts it in her mouth. She chews silently for a few seconds before dropping the fork and saying, “fine, no occasion. You want something, what it is it?”

“Can’t I just cook breakfast for my girlfriend?”

She ponders this for a second. “Yes but you definitely want something. Tell me as I eat.”

[kamaela]

Fic claim: Mirror, Me (E, 18.3k)

Read on AO3

Written for @hd-tarot fest. Thanks to the mods for all their amazing work!

@kk1smet made this incredible art. It burrowed into my brain and wouldn't leave so i had to write it down.

Tags:

EWE, Post-War, POV Harry Potter, Down and Out Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Depression, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Belonging, Sentient Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Invisibility Cloak, Stalking, Non-consensual Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Under-negotiated Kink, Polyjuice Potion, Explicit Sexual Content

Snippet:

“Petrificus Totalus.” Harry’s limbs go rigid and snap together as he keels over, face first onto weeds and patchy, wet grass. His nose and chin hit the packed dirt with a painful crunch. Though his shout of surprise is stuck in his throat, the sound of his body hitting the ground echoes in his ears. A hand grabs at the cloak and pulls hard. Then, he’s on his back, Draco Malfoy standing over him. “Well now, this is familiar,” Malfoy says, a smirk pulling at his mouth. He crouches down at Harry’s side, pulling at his hair so that Harry's head is angled to face him. “Harry Potter.” His voice is low and drawling and it scuttles over Harry’s skin. “I’m simply dying to know what you're doing here.” Harry’s current predicament is, he can admit, rather dire. Being caught stalking aside, he thinks his nose might be broken. Humiliation licks up his rigid spine, but along with it is a prickle of ill-advised anticipation, a foolish thrill at what Malfoy might do. “You’ve been following me for a while now, haven’t you? I thought I could hear—” Malfoy cuts himself off. Harry hardly registers what Malfoy is saying, caught up in the opportunity to finally look at him up close. Malfoy laughs and the sound crawls up over Harry, gets under his nails. “Merlin you are such a little creep, aren’t you, Harry?” Harry's sure a violent flush must be blooming across his face, not only at the insult but at his body’s reaction to the words, his cock twitching traitorously.

[hana-no-seiiki]

Good news. Did some decent progress on What’s Up Danger so you guys will finally get fed this Wednesday! Bad news, the quality might not be the best since I’m fasting while writing it oTL

Anyways, here are some Batfam w/ Cat Villain! Reader moments/snippets.

TW YANDERE AND MENTION OF NONCON/SOMNO

Both Jason and Reader’s first words to each other were, “What the fuck.”

Reader referring to Jason being a giant, and violent asf esp in comparison to Dick. While Jason was confused at his heart beating so fast and mildly crushing on you while you were fighting.

Bonus points: You guys did the spiderman point meme.

You have the biggest age gap with Dick. I headcannon the boys to be close in age so there wouldn’t be any not so good implications when it comes to relationships, but it’s almost unavoidable unless Batman switches sidekicks every year or so. (You are younger than Jason but older than Tim)

But that is also another reason why you two didn’t click as well as you did with Jason

You’d often make jokes or use slang and Dick would just be “???” He tried his best though.

On the reverse side of things, and like I mention before Tim and you got along too well as friends. He’s one of the few people you could gush to about literally any fandom and he somehow (through stalking your searches and literally every gadget/appliance you owned) knew everything about it already.

You two have written several theses on fellow vigilantes and villains (mostly ‘dumb’ ones like who has the best cake based on so and so criteria)

Damian is the best when it comes to bantering with you mid-fight. It’s the combined years of sass and assassin training. Went from plain insults to whole ass (not so) subtly being horny when you beat each other down.

He’s also the worst (best?) when it comes to your nicknames. He insists that you two use it on each other. Some exclusive while others he’s usually fine hearing from other mouths.

There was one point in time where you were called Kitten while the boys forced/bribed you to call them Daddy

Tim and Jason have tattoos of you/related to you.

For Jason it’s your name with a few paw prints, and for Tim it’s when he first fought you (and got his ass whooped)

After Jason came back and revealed himself to you, he tattooed the scratch marks you left him on his back after doing the deed.

Damian secretly practices doing henna so he can draw on you during your “wedding” since he doesn’t want anyone touching you. Sort of defeats the purpose, but go off king.

Being the thorough guy he is, he uses lab equipment to make his own blends.

Bruce? Bruce hates your ass. Sometimes it’s in a hatefuckey way but most of the time he blames you for corrupting his kids.

So he corrupted you in turn.

I feel like he gets off to cucking them honestly (blame that one comic) but if Reader is AFAB I wouldn’t be surprised if he impregnated them.

He’s a softie at heart when it comes to you though, courtesy of your similarities with Selina.

Speaking of, Talia adores you.

Like if there was anyone she would want with her son it was you.

She thinks the fact that you haven’t been put behind bars is a testament to your skill, and after getting over your similarity to her “rival in love” she would actively get you to be with her son.

Eventually she realizes she loves you more than Bruce and well, that’s a story for another fic.

You have at least a dozen trackers on you at all times.

Most of them you’ve ingested and pooped out.

It’s mostly Tim of course. But the duty of actually feeding you that stuff usually goes to Dick.

Dick has uh- somnophillia’ed you a fair bit after the break up.

He really, and I mean really likes to watch you sleep.

It reminds him of those ‘catnaps’ you’d take while watching over the Titans.

There would be times where he’d just be in a daze/in autopilot for hours reminiscing about your past together

His favorite memories to go back to were your first fight together, first kiss, and times under the sheets, and a date you guys had before in a festival/circus.

He never takes the antidote for Poison Ivy’s sex pollen and always comes to you for it, regardless of his or your relationship status.

Tim has at least a million typewritten chats with AI you, and around a few hundred hours of voice chats.

You did eventually take his virginity.

He came as soon as he was inside you/you were inside him.

You have been offered to be a part of the bat crew or a vigilante. But,

you massacred many after Jason’s supposed death and feel too guilty to call yourself anything other than a villain.

Chokers with bells. It’s a popular gift to give you. Especially ones that are custom made with expensive ass materials and engraving.

Sometimes Tim just gives you weapons.

Alfred is your best source of blackmail material.

You’ve actively tried cursing him (with immortality). You love the man.

He’s secretly the president of your official fanclub/fansite but you didn’t hear that from me.

You fight a lot with Damian’s pets. Like in a way that you turn into a literal cat and hiss at them.

And last but not least, you’re vv close with every member of the Teen Titans (besties with Rachel and Garfield)

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

@sophiethewitch1

[ros3maryt3a]

Hiiii, could I please ask for how you think the Phantom Troupe would act to being hugged / held by their S/O for the first time? Thanks 🥰

WOAH I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE-

It’s been done for like months now I just entirely forgot to post it I’m so sorry Anon.

-

I’m here for the fluffy ideas (I will warn, I feel like these are a tad Ooc as this is mainly based on my own personal headcannons woven into snippets of what we see in HxH) it’s nice to write them!! I’m gonna admit I haven’t written anything in a dang hot minute so this was: interesting to proofread.

Characters: Chrollo, Feitan, Pakunoda, Shalnark (I know that’s not a lot compared to my other 2 but I was flagging so hard for ideas)

Chrollo

Despite his occasional interest in domestic life and the comforts that came with it, Chrollo never pushed for physical contact.

You’d sat down together before, reading under candlelight, but had never really been lovey dovey. It wasn’t a prevalent concept within the Troupe.

Which is why, when you’re sat beside each other -both enthralled in your own separate texts- a slight jolt races through him as your palm meets the top of his hands (your thumb absentmindedly tracing circles). It was nothing major: nothing that was noteworthy. his eyes barely left the page before him, but, it was nice.

However, when your book settles on the floor and your arms wrap around him. Well, that he can’t not notice. At first the scene is quite awkward, or to him, it’s not like he’s never been hugged before: more the lack of preparation. Chrollo’s shoulders were raised and his hands seemed to struggle to find their place. It’s not like you’d particularly notice this, the small fumble is a fleeting moment.

Once the initial shock had settled though, the two of you lay comfortably together. His head resting agaisnt yours and yours resting agaisnt his shoulder.

Let me tell you, though he may not have shown it, his heart skipped a couple beats. Having you agaisnt him, arms laying around his waist, it was a slice of domestic bliss he truly savoured. The life his city had given him was a life he did cherish, but the spark of normalcy you provided was always a treat. (You’d later find out: this would be a regular occurance anytime you read together; any attempts to protest against the idea would be immediately shot down.)

Feitan

Feitan isn’t big on touch. Never has been.

He prefers all his limbs free to move, he’s an agile person who heavily values his own self autonomy and being able to react in a matter of milliseconds. Nothing more than simple handholding (for no more than a specified 3 minutes 24 seconds) has passed between you two.

So, when you practically jump at him with open arms: he seizes up.

Seriously, you almost gave him a heart attack.

“Off.” “Off now.” Is all that would be said as he tries to pry you off from whoever you’d latched on. Safe to say: the first time you give him a hug is certainly an interesting event.

Don’t get me wrong, you don’t miss the way his eyes dart towards you; and how almost immediately his body eases once the initial shock had faded. Nor do you miss the way: he does indeed reciprocate the act.

A mixture of happiness and annoyance fill him in equal measure. On one hand: the sudden contact had dusted his skin a slightly reddish hue, for all his protests, Feitan’s well aware it’s a show of comfort and given your relationship: it’s not an action he particularly hates. On the other hand? No.

This moment does however, spark the slow build up to your first “proper” hug (and the many more things that would follow)

For now though? It’s best you don’t try that again. For a while.

A long while.

Shalnark

Surprisingly tense.

You’d think a member so seemingly well composed would be better equipped to hug his partner. But, no!

It takes about a minute for him to actually reciprocate the hug, a series of awkward pats meeting your back before he (not at all subtly) peels you off of him.

It’s almost like the action completely resets him, as in a matter of seconds he’s laughing and pulling you in for another hug. The scene is…sweet enough. Though, the action is swift with the two of you parting (again) and Shalnark instead slipping his hand over yours: fingers intertwining as he began to jump from topic to topic.

Physical touch (especially that of unprompted physical touch) is an odd spot for Shalnark. Sometimes, he loves it! A goofy grin is sure to paint his face as he reciprocates the action. Sometimes, it seems like a completely foreign subject to him.

Pakunoda

This woman adores you.

Completely and utterly.

The second your arms wrap around her: she is beaming and quick to reciprocate the action.

Arguably the most openly emotional. It may just be a hug but it makes her heart flutter! Her arms come to rest upon shoulders as she pulls you in close, the act a rather jovial scene. A simple smile is painted upon her face the whole time, it’s honestly quite surprising that such an act could light her up like a child on Christmas.

Any surprise your hug may have sparked is almost immediately washed away the second she realises what’s happening.

As with any of the members: her lightbulb moment is slow. None of them are particularly touchy individuals after-all. However, Paku is certainly the quickest in her return of your hug.

After the moment you’ll find her fingers laced between yours more often than not..

—

I feel like there’s more I could do with this idea but I’m entirely sure how to lay it out in the scenario/headcannon based format these are usually in, so, who knows! If someone wants a oneshot of the idea with a specific troupe member I’ll be happy to deliver-

[wannabespacesmuggler]

THE LAST TIME ➵ J. N. NAWOOD

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: The last time you saw Jod Na Nawood, he was taking off with his crew in search of treasure — promising that this haul of credits could finally get you both out of this life for good. Years later, you’re still on Nevarro where he left you, but you’ve created a life free from the bounty hunter’s guild and backstabbing pirates. That is until Jod Na Nawood shows up on your doorstep with four small children asking for your help. Against your better judgment, you agree, but with a promise that this is the last time you let him in your door. It was only a matter of time before your seemingly neverending patience for the scoundrel found its end, but Jod decides to push his luck one last time.

Pairing: Jod Na Nawood x gn!Reader

Warnings: written after episode 6 of Skeleton Crew, previously established relationship, angst, language, no use of y/n, use of nicknames

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Happy Skeleton Crew Day! The show isn't even over, and I'm writing for my favorite pathetic man. Should I wait until we know more about Jod's backstory to write for him? Maybe. Is that going to stop me? Absolutely not. Will any new information change how I feel about him? No. It's Jude Law, and I love him. Listen, Disney has GOT to stop giving me reluctant fathers — I'm out here collecting them like infinity stones. Anyway, I haven't seen much fanfic for my boy Jod, so I figured I'd write a little something. I've become a little too invested in this relationship between the pirate and the bounty hunter after writing this, so let me know if you want to see more of them — like their first meeting, their first big score, or just some snippets of their travels together.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you watch a group of young children scurry past your shop while you close for the day, racing to get home before curfew. Grabbing your datapad and flipping off the lights, you begin your trek home just outside Nevarro’s capital city. On your way, you wave goodnight to multiple other shop owners who have rebuilt their lives in Nevarro. It’s incredible to see what this city has become. Within the past ten years, Nevarro went from a ruthless refuge for bounty hunters and Imperial outlaws to a bustling city built on lawful trade and commerce.

You never thought you’d be able to live a quiet life — not after the grueling years you spent with the bounty hunter’s guild. You thought you were meant for a life filled with danger and excitement, but as the years went on, that life began to take a toll on you — allies turning into enemies, always having to sleep with one eye open, never being able to settle down somewhere. But here you are, with your own plot of land and a shop filled with the treasures and artifacts you collected on past adventures. The only thing missing in your life is the person you want to spend it with. 

You shake that thought out of your head as you enter your quaint home nestled amongst several small farms. You try not to dwell on the past — especially not those that left you behind. However, you can’t help it as your eyes land on an old photo on your bedside table that you never had the heart to destroy. There, pictured with his arm slung around your shoulder with a bright smile after your first big score together, is Jod Na Nawood. The photo marked the beginning of your partnership. What started as a professional business arrangement quickly became an unlikely friendship — a pirate and a bounty hunter against the galaxy. Eventually, that friendship shifted into something a little more tender. And soon enough, you’d fallen in love with the man that no one else dared to trust. 

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips as you tear your eyes away from the photo. You should get rid of the photo, as it’s now just a reminder of the man who left and never came back. You haven’t seen Jod in years — not since he ventured off with his latest pirate crew in search of treasure. It didn’t make sense for you to tag along since your latest bounty puck was on the other side of the Outer Rim territories. But the night before he left, Jod promised you this was it. The cunning scoundrel of the star systems assured you that this was your last bounty and his last plunder. And you made the mistake of believing him. 

You made your way to the kitchen and busy yourself with brewing a fresh pot of caf, knowing that even though the sun had already set, you are far from sleep — a life of hunting bounties cursed you with many things, including insomnia. Before you can pour yourself a mug, you hear footsteps approaching your bungalow. You quickly grab the blaster you have hidden under the counter. Nevarro may be a reformed city, but you’re still prepared for the worst. 

You quietly move to the front door and press your ear against the cool wood. To your surprise, the voices you hear sound juvenile. You loosen your grip around your blaster as you suspect some of your neighbor’s kids are out past curfew. It wouldn’t be the first time that you have to walk some of the local children home to ensure their safety. But when you open the door, your breath catches in your chest. He’s leaner than the last time you saw him and his short hair is a little grayer, but standing before you is none other than Jod Na Nawood. A charming smile spreads across his face as he locks eyes with you.

“It’s been a while, Jewels.”

The old nickname is like a punch to the gut — knocking out the air caught in your lungs. You hated the term endearment, which only made Jod use it more. But on a quiet night in your old starship, after too many glasses of Rodian spice liquor, Jod explained the true meaning behind the name: all the treasure in the galaxy will never compare to you — his prize jewel. 

“What are you going by now — Crimson Jack, Silvo the Mad Captain, Jodwick Zank, Dash Zentin, or maybe Professor Gorelox?”

You know it’s a low blow, but the way that name slipped off his tongue so easily angers you. It’s like every emotion you’ve ever pushed away has come crashing down on you. But you’re not that person anymore — you're not his — you haven’t been for a while. Jod bristles at your question. To the rest of the galaxy, he may be a liar and a scoundrel, but with you, he was simply himself. Even if you don’t realize it, no one in all the star systems knows Jod Na Nawood like you do. 

“Just Jod.”

“What are you doing here, Jod?”

He glances behind him, and you find the source of the voices you heard: four young children huddled together. Your face softens as they look up at you.

“I need your help.”

For a split second, his mask of swaggering indifference slips, and you can see the exhaustion embedded deep into his handsome features. Jod’s shoulders slump forward for a moment before he rights his posture. 

“This the last time I’m letting you in my door, Jod.”

Your words are a double-edged sword — a threat and a promise. Jod nods knowingly, and, against your better judgment, you open the door the rest of the way, letting Jod and the children into your home. 

“Noticed no speeder outside. Did you get rid of it? You loved that thing.”

He attempts to make small talk. It’s strange being in your presence now. He thought he’d find comfort in it, but it now feels awkward after years of separation. But he knows how much that speeder meant to you — an old Joben T-85 you’ve had since your youth. When you weren’t off chasing a bounty, you could be found working on that bike. And you always kept it just a few paces outside the front door of your old house on Nevarro.

“Had to. Who do you think had to pay off all your debts when you disappeared?”

Ouch. Guess he needs to add that to the neverending list of things he has to make up for. Jod keeps his mouth closed and follows you into the kitchen. You pour two cups of caf. He’ll have to make do with having it black; you stopped stocking your small pantry with cream and sugar about a year after his departure. You slide a cup toward Jod before looking at the four children. 

“You guys hungry?”

You open your pantry, letting each of them choose a snack from your selection. Your eyes wander to Jod, sipping his caf slowly, nose crinkling ever-so-slight at the taste. His slacks have been patched at least a dozen times, his cotton shirt is torn, and the jacket he’s wrapped in is ill-fitting. Your brow furrows at the sight. The Jod you knew put, arguably, too much effort into his appearance. 

“I have a trunk of your old clothing under my bed. Go change.”

You motion towards your bedroom door, but Jod doesn’t move. Instead, a grin pulls at his lips.

“What’s wrong with my get up, Jewels? Am I not a sight for sore eyes?”

“You’re a sight, that’s for sure.”

Jod playfully rolls his eyes before relenting. You attempt to stifle the shiver that runs down your spine when his arm brushes against yours. But it’s safe to say Jod noticed based on the smirk that pulls at his lips. You’re almost embarrassed by how much your body yearns for his touch. After years of separation, he’s right here invading your personal space — and yet he still feels so far away. 

Jod finally breaks free from your orbit and disappears into your bedroom. He lets out a shaky breath as he closes the door. He approaches your bed and chuckles at the amount of blankets you’ve thrown on top of your mattress. He remembers the countless nights in your starship that he’d slide into bed, only to be immediately pulled into your chilly embrace. Your hands would slide under his loose shirt, and although your touch was ice cold, he’d never pull away.

Jod shakes off the memory and pulls the trunk out from under your bed. Inside are a few cotton shirts, an old pair of trousers, and his favorite jacket, which is folded nicely at the bottom. He never thought he’d see this jacket again — he never thought you’d keep it after all this time. He tries not to look into the gesture until he looks up and spots the photo on your bedside table. His hands move on their own accord as they delicately pick up the photograph. It reignites his cold heart, and he’s suddenly drowning in an ocean of unspoken emotion. 

The sound of your laughter in the next room forces him to tear his eyes away from the memory. He quickly changes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he slides his arms into his old jacket. It’s the first time in years that he actually feels like himself. 

He steps out of your bedroom and is emotionally sucker-punched by the scene before him. You’re on the couch with the kids close by. KB and Fern are on the floor watching something on your datapad — most likely one of the old Mandalorian soap operas you’ve watched at least a dozen times. You’re on the couch with Wim and Neel. Neel snores quietly with his head pressed against your shoulder, while you card your fingers through Wim’s hair as he sleeps peacefully with his head in your lap. It’s domestic — it’s what life should have looked like for the two of you. 

He doesn’t have the heart to interrupt this picturesque moment, but you eventually feel his gaze and look up at him with a soft smile. For a second, you simply look at each other before you eventually tear your eyes away from him. You gently shake the boys awake before getting the girls’ attention. 

“C’mon guys, you can sleep in my room. There’s more than enough space for all of you. KB and Fern — you can even keep my datapad for the night.”

The girls smile at you before racing into your bedroom, immediately claiming the mattress for themselves. Wim and Neel trail behind them and collapse onto the small couch in the corner of the room. After the children have settled in, you close the door and return your attention to Jod. 

“We need to talk.”

Jod nods at your words and follows you into the kitchen. He watches with a small smile as you pour yourself another cup of caf. When the two of you traveled together, you practically ran on caffeine. Some things never change. 

“So, At Attin?”

You look up at him and take a long drink of your caf. Jod nods at your words and leans against the counter across from you — still in disbelief over the revelation.

“It’s real.”

“So, I’m told. Wim even gave me one of these.”

You pull out an Old Republic credit from your pocket, and Jod simply stares at the little piece of metal in your hands. The things he’s done just to get his hands on a stash of those old credits — the people he’s killed, the friends he’s betrayed, the loved ones he’s left behind. It haunts him. And yet, he’s practically salivating at the credit in your hand, and if you were anyone else… Well, old habits die hard, he supposes.

His reaction makes you let out a dry laugh, and you place the Old Republic credit on the counter beside you. You take another sip of caf before confronting him.

“That’s what you’re doing this for, right? Chasing down an old pirate’s fairytale for a couple of credits?”

Jod’s face falls at your insinuation. He thought if anyone would understand how incredible this information was, it was you. His posture turns uncharacteristically rigid as he now feels the need to defend himself. 

“It’s real, Jewels. The kids, they said…”

“They’re children, Jod! Children make up stories all the time — they could be from anywhere in the star systems. Have you even thought this through?”

Jod’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head furiously at your words. 

“No, it has to be real. They wouldn’t offer up a reward they can’t cash in.”

“They would if they thought it was the only way you’d stick around.”

Jod prepares to bite back at your claim but stops as he notices your downcast expression. That’s why you thought he never came back? The realization slaps him in the face. You may believe that he cares for treasure and coin more than your company, but you couldn’t be more wrong. His longing for you is burrowed deep into his bones. Your voice, which he carefully burned into his memory, was his only companion. You were his every waking thought and his every idyllic dream during his time in that dank, dark cell. 

“I had every intention of coming back to you.”

You let out a frustrated huff at his words but note how his voice has softened. His gaze is intense as he waits for your response.

“If you wanted to, you would have.”

The palpable hurt in your tone makes him feel like someone just stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife. You should never feel unwanted — especially by him. Not when Jod knows it’s been you all along. 

Not coin. Not treasure. Not even the Old Republic credit he’s miraculously forgotten about on the counter. You.

“You have it all wrong.”

You roll your eyes at his words, and for a moment, he thinks you’re about to argue with him. But you stay silent, letting him continue. 

“I meant it. What I said to you the last time I left. But I was wrong about the credits — they were moved before we arrived. And you know how much that stash meant to the crew — how life-changing those credits would have been for every single one of them. So, Brutus invoked the Pirate’s Code, and I yielded, knowing I needed to get back to you. And I’ve been stuck in a cell on Borgo Prime ever since.”

Your mind is reeling as you take in his words. All this time, you thought he’d been plundering the galaxy. But, instead, he’s been imprisoned on a planet a mere day’s travel away. 

“You’ve been that close this entire time?”

Jod nods at your words, and his heart breaks as tears begin to well up in your eyes. He takes a daring step forward. With no opposition from you, he takes another step and then another. He’s invading your personal space once again, but this time, you aren’t complaining. You place your now lukewarm cup of caf on the counter beside you, next to the forgotten Old Republic credit. 

“How’d you know where to find me?”

Jod places his hands on either side of the counter, caging you in before answering.

“Brutus had the crew keep tabs on you. At first, to make sure you didn’t come looking for me. But then, he just did it to torment me with all of the details of your new life without me. When I escaped that damn spaceport with those kids, I came straight here.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you look up at Jod. You know you should be angry at him. Furious. There’s a long list of wrongs that he needs to right before he’s an upstanding man. But as he stands before you, looking down with nothing but adoration in his gaze, you cannot find it in yourself to be anything other than content. Jod ducks his head down a little lower, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m truly sorry, Jewels.”

You lift up on your toes, closing the distance between you, and capture his lips with yours. He moves his hands from the counter to your waist, greedily tugging you closer to him. The way he touches you is urgent — this is all he’s dreamed of for years, and he won’t waste a single moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you with just as much desperation. The kiss is deep, passionate, and ravenous. Eventually, you both must pull away — the need for air outweighing the need for each other.

After catching his breath, Jod smiles brightly down at you. And he’s suddenly Crimson Jack again — the charismatic and dangerously charming pirate you fell in love with all those years ago. But there’s a newfound maturity and sincerity that makes him less like Crimson Jack and more like the man you always knew he could be: Jod Na Nawood. And it’s for that reason that you know what he must do.

“You have to leave again, right?”

Jod sighs, nodding at your words. He presses his forehead against yours, wishing to stay in your embrace for the rest of his days. But he’s made promises that he must keep. Promises that will take him far from you, but he has to make sure these kids get home — wherever home is. But after he does right by the children, he can finally begin doing right by you. And that starts with coming back — and then maybe replacing the speeder bike that you sold off for him. He knows he may never be able to right every wrong he’s done, but he’ll spend the rest of his life making them up to you — as long as you let him.

“This is the last time, I promise.”

And against all odds, you believe him. 

[justarkive]

hi guys ! i have this draft ive written a very very long time ago in my notes and was wondering if anyone would wanna read something like it? its like my other fic magic but my writing is so much better in it, its similar w the angst, but i could turn it into a full fic once ive finished with TABLE 3,

- pairing: fuckboy!jk x reader who just lets him do it

- very angsty like VERY. infidelity maybe ?! a LOT of smut (ik a lot of u freaks will vote yes cuz of that LMAO). MINIMAL fluff maybe (haven’t decided if it’ll be an e2l kinda thing lol). emotional manipulation (be prepared for a messy, confusing ride), toxic dynamics (you’ll wanna scream at both of them, trust me), mind games & jealousy (oh yeah, they’re both gonna be a hot mess), heavy emotional tension (prepare your heart, it’s gonna hurt), possible breaking point (will they survive the chaos? who knows…), super explicit sexual content (if that wasn’t obvious, LMAO).

read snippet below :

check fic out > here

The lock turns at 2:47 a.m.

You don’t even flinch. You’re sitting cross-legged on the mattress, folding his laundry—the rare kind of domestic act that means absolutely nothing in this apartment.

Except it does to you. Or it did. Before the perfume hit you first.

You don’t look up when the door creaks open. Don’t move when you hear his shoes hit the wall. You just keep folding the same black t-shirt over and over again.

“You’re still up?” he mutters, voice thick with alcohol. A little breathless. Like he’s been rushing. Or fucking.

Your fingers clench.

“Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

He drops something. A bottle maybe. Then something heavier—his jacket, maybe his hoodie, maybe his pride.

It’s quiet for a beat. Then:

“Why are you doing my laundry?”

You shrug. “Your drawer was empty.”

“So?”

“So I figured you’d want clean clothes.”

He huffs. Bitter. Sharp.

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N.”

There it is.

You still don’t look at him. “I know.”

“Then stop doing shit like this.”

You fold the shirt one more time, just to keep your hands busy.

“Where were you?” you ask.

He hesitates. Then laughs, low and cruel.

“Out.”

“With her?”

“Does it matter?”

Your throat tightens. “No.”

He moves across the room in slow steps, shadow moving past the mattress. You catch his reflection in the TV screen. His hair’s a mess. His jaw is red. His zipper’s still undone.

You finally look at him.

And he looks at you—like you’re the one who fucked up.

“You think this is more than what it is?” he asks, voice quiet now. Dangerous. “You think we’re something?”

You blink, but your eyes sting. “No.”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” he says.

And that’s when your heart cracks.

Because you already have.

You nod slowly. Bite your lip until it hurts. Fold the shirt again.

He watches you for a second too long. Then, like something inside him snaps, he crosses the room and grabs your wrist.

You don’t fight him. You never do.

“Come here.”

You let him.

Because what else do you have?

You let him kiss you like he’s punishing you for caring. Let him fuck you on the mattress while his breath reeks of someone else. While his fingers bruise your hips like he’s trying to forget the curve of her thighs.

It’s not love. It’s not anything close.

It’s survival.

It’s almost.

It’s pain you both know too well.

You dig your nails into his back, and he mouths I hate you into your collarbone. You whisper me too against his jaw, even though it’s a lie.

He comes with your name in his throat.

And when it’s over, you don’t cry.

You just turn your back to him and fall asleep to the sound of sirens and your heart breaking all over again.

[pollyypocket]

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : billie eilish x fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Claire is best friends with billie eilish but what happens when she finds out she has a song written about their complicated relationship

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : alcohol

Billie was Claire’s best friend. She’s been by her side through thick and thin since birth. Finneas has watched the two grow up together and become closer each year. The girl has been there ever since Billie first released music in her bedroom. From her first song ‘Six Feet Under’ to her third album ‘Hit Me Hard And Soft’ coming out May 17th. Claire couldn’t be prouder.

She was currently getting ready to go to the release party for the album hosted by Interscope Records. She’s heard a few snippets of songs but Billie wanted her to hear the album in full along with everyone else. It wasn't like Billie to do that but Claire pushed it aside and it’s understandable since she’s not releasing any singles. The brunette was currently blow drying her hair while blasting Mac Miller from her speaker wondering about what the new music is going to sound like. After about 30 minutes and doing makeup she walked into her closet. The girl grabbed a basic tee along with some denim washed baggy skater jeans and finished off with a leather jacket and yellow lensed glasses. She grabbed her bag checking to see if she had everything with her (keys, makeup and other essentials) before heading to the friends and family listening party in LA.

Liked by billieeilish, dominicfike, sza and 256,000 others

claire: Bae’s listening party is tonite.

billieeilish : ahhh so excited!

➥ claire: ily

User : so jealous! What’s ur fav?

➥ claire : i haven’t heard any yet!

User : tell billie i said hi

dominicfike: see you there

➥ claire : see ya

tarayummyy : midnight!!

It was a pain to find a place to park, she didn’t realize how many people were invited. Anxiety rushed through the girls body. So many thoughts were buzzing around ‘Who’s going to be there’ ‘How many people are there’ ‘What if I'm late’.

Her thoughts were broken as soon as she walked into the room. Billie stood there waiting to greet the girl, screaming with excitement.

“Oh my god you made it” she screeched making peoples heads turn towards them as she pulled Claire into a hug.

“I did! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” it was the truth. Anything Billie did the girl had her full support. “Are you excited to hear the album” pulling away from the hug she stared at the girls face for 10 seconds before replying. “Of course I am! It better be good because I didn’t get an input this time" "It’s amazing! I’m going to go speak to more people. I was waiting for you to get here before I spoke to everyone else” with that Billie walked off but not before winking at the girl and flashing her a smile.

Claire looked around and spotted a bar automatically wandering over to it to grab herself a drink before going around to say hi to everyone else. She spotted Finneas talking with Claudia and one other girl who she didn’t recognise. 

“Hey Claire!” The strawberry blonde boy shouted out towards her. Walking over with a drink in hand she side hugged the boy as well as Claudia. She awkwardly stood there while the other conversed in conversation before her eyes landed on Billie again watching her every move and the way she interacted with people. She was so caring and so accepting towards everyone. Claire always knew that the girl would go far with music everything about her screamed rockstar. That's what she loved about her. Everything.

The girls would both say that over time their relationship has become complicated. The two grew up spending so much time together that their friendship became more. No one knew apart from the both of them of what happened behind closed doors. However tonight that changed...

Her thoughts got cut short after hearing the feedback from the mic indicating that Billie was about to start playing her album. Finneas no longer stood next to her but instead up on the stage with his younger sister. There were blue velvet couches to match the theme of the album cover color on the floor and one on the stage which was for the two O’Connells.

“Thank you all so much for being here, this album means a lot to me. It’s different to most of the stuff I've released but this is to my third album and a new era” the girl held up her drink which was echoed by everyone else in the crowd.

The first song ‘Skinny’ played and to say Claire was in tears is an understatement. She was bawling her eyes out listening carefully to each lyric that blasted through the speaks. She related to this song more than she wanted to. Her and Billie talk about everything and she knew this one hinted to the chats you've had together late at night.

It wasn’t long until LUNCH blasted through the speakers. This was one she’s not heard before nor even been mentioned.

 “I can eat that girl for lunch, yeah, she dances on my tongue, tastes like she might be the one’

Claire’s mouth was hung open. She was not expecting that opening but all she could think about was who “She” was. The girl felt jealous and she didn’t know why. Afterall her and Billie never had a label on anything.

 ‘Call me when you’re there, Said I bought you something rare and I left it under… Claire’

If her jaw wasn’t already touching the floor it sure is now. Some random girl sat next to her shaking her shoulders in shock. She had no idea who it was but all she could focus on was those blue eyes which were staring right back at her smirks forming on both of their lips. 

‘Taste like she might be the one’ The rest of the album they didn't take their eyes off of eachother. Something felt different after hearing that song. Something clicked. Billie watched her carefully analyzing her for each song she heard. This didn’t go unnoticed by her brother who was sitting back and watching everything fall into place.

Blue was the last song on the album. Claire obviously knew this one as she was in the room when Billie first wrote it years ago. It made her feel so proud that she put this on the album knowing everyone was waiting for her. And with that the album ended. People started getting up to get more drinks from the bar and to also congratulate the 22 year old on her new release. 

The curly haired girl finally found the girl after an hour giving her the biggest hug ever. Everything she did Claire admired her. In her eyes she was perfect. She always looked up to her. 

“Billie… What was that?” The girl cupped the singer's face. “What was what!” Billie grabbed the other girl's hands resting on her face and dropped them down between them still holding hands. “It sounded amazing! I loved it so much, it's definitely my favorite album you’ve ever made.” The girl giggled. “AND LUNCH! C’MON NOW” Claire almost shouted which caused Billie to shush her to quiet down. “We can talk about that later at the afterparty” and with that the girl disappeared again.

Liked by billieeilish, oliviarodrigo and 506,503 others

Claire: if anyone asks. The album is a work of art.

User: IM SO EXCITED! 2 HOURS NOW!

➥User: WHAT? IT’S OUT FOR ME NOW

➥User: timezones…

Oliviarodirgo : If anyone asks. I’m not okay.

➥Claire: me neither bae

User: I CANT WAIT ANY LONGER

billieeilish : whos that hottie

➥Claire: idk you tell me xoxo

➥Billeeilish : its you xoxo

Claire was stumbling around Billie’s house after a few drinks talking to random people with the new confidence buzz. As always Billie threw a party after every release to celebrate properly. 

People are going round saying how good her album was, even though they weren’t at the listening party but listened at midnight. 

That’s when Claire felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around a bit too quickly, stumbling around everywhere before grabbing ahold of the person's arms in front of her. She soon realized who it was. Billie stood there asking to pull her for a chat.

“Hey” this time Billie seemed nervous to talk. Claire turned her full body towards Billie before saying “Hey.” They both just stared into eachothers eyes trying to figure out what to say until Claire broke the silence. “Is the song ‘Lunch’ about me”. All the brunette did was look at the floor. Speechless. “Obviously it is…” she then rambled on about everything until she got shut up with a kiss…

A/N : Let me know if you want part 2. I think my writing is improving. lol, let me know! Also feel free to give me plot ideas! This one is over the place. AND THIS IS BILLIES BEST ALBUM. IF ANYONE WANTS TO GET ME TICKETS TO EVERY SHOW FEEL FREE TOO. I've listened to Billie since 2017 and not seen her once but its ok. NEXT YEAR IS MY YEAR TO SEE HER.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hello and happy Sunday everyone! Today is my Saturday, and it’s been a bit on the dull side. Hopefully I can shift myself a bit more tomorrow. Thank you for the tags today and last night, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @rimeswithpurple, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @nausikaa! You’re all doing amazing work, as usual! Here’s a little bit more of Pull Yourself Together. If it seems as though I’m not sharing any plot-related snippets, that’s because I haven’t written any. I’m a disgrace 😞

Baz is sitting on the floor when I enter the room, leaning against his wardrobe with his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He’s chewing one end of his pencil while he goes over his notes, but he puts his work aside when he sees me. He draws his knees up and pats one, so I crawl between them and sit with my back against his chest, turning my face into his neck and planting a kiss beneath his jaw. “Hey, babe,” I sigh.

Baz pushes my face away with the heel of his palm. “That’s extraordinarily stupid,” he scoffs. I roll my eyes as he begins carding his fingers through my hair. My curls aren’t nearly as silky as his hair, so they snag in places. I don’t mind. Baz nuzzles my ear so I feel his chin move when he asks, “Where have you been all afternoon, you muppet?”

Perhaps I’ll have more to share come Wednesday. Have a great week everyone! Tags and shout outs to: @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @valeffelees @palimpsessed @ic3-que3n @cows4247 @raenestee @larkral @letraspal @harrie-leithillustration @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @imagineacoolusername @argumentativeantitheticalg @beastmonstertitan @the-beard-of-edward-teach @fiend-for-culture @mooncello @orange-peony @best--dress @stitchy-queerista @prettygoododds @supercutedinosaurs @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @aristocratic-otter @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @alexalexinii @shrekgogurt @ivelovedhimthroughworse @messofthejess @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @that-disabled-princess @hushed-chorus @forabeatofadrum @roomwithanopenfire @skeedelvee @drowninginships @j-nipper-95 @bazzybelle @onepintobean @nightimedreamersworld @alleycat0306 and anybody else who’d like to share!

[loulou-land]

Fuck it Friday!

I haven’t written much for my WIPs these days since I’ve been catching up on drabbles and working on fluffebruary prompts 😅 so uh here’s a bit of my louliver fic (since this chapters finished lol)

Tagged by @cliophilyra & @judymarch15 (thank you!! 🫶🏻✨)

Snippet from chapter 1 of my louliver fic “Off Script”

Oliver had known, the moment they finished rolling, Lou had once again managed to outshine him. Both in looks and performance.

And if Oliver’s heart had both twisted and sped up at how believable Lou’s fondness looked? He buried that so deep inside him it would never see the light of day.

Through all the takes, he’d forced himself to look away from him telling himself it was in an effort to remain calm and professional—to avoid saying something rude he might regret later. The last thing he needed was for rumors to start circulating; he already got enough shit online as it was.

Yet all the while, his fingers twitched with a familiar urge—to reach for his camera, to capture Lou’s chiseled face, his striking features and those annoyingly spellbinding blue eyes. He cursed the man’s natural photogenic appeal.

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already been tagged 😅):

@sad-girl-hours23 @rdng1230 @jamieroyjamieroy @livelaughlou @demonvampire180writes @aesthetictarlos

[mollywog]

🫖 Regency everlark... But one of them is a servant/cook/maid(?)

Thank you for playing nonny and @melodypowers65 (who also requested 🫖)

Your addition reminds me of Over the Mountain by @thesweetnessofspring (Victorian Everlark) and this snippet by @farfromhome87 if you haven’t read them yet!

And while I was trying to work out a different spin on your request, I began thinking of Miss Taylor/Mr. Weston (because all roads lead back to Emma (someday I’ll have written everlark into every couple in the book (though making them Mr. And Mrs. Elton would be a challenge..)))

Rue peers through the crack in the drawer room doors, suppressing her exclamation as Mr. Mellark sinks to one knee.

Everyone had said that Mr. Mellark would never marry. Mr. Mellark, who had been alone so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful—Mr. Mellark need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. Mellark certainly would never marry.

But Rue had known— ever since that fateful day years ago when Mr. Mellark had stumbled upon her music lessons and heard her new governess, Miss Everdeen, sing— she’d known he was besotted.

She’d done her part to promote the match— making it her duty to invite Mr. Mellark often to Elevton, giving many discreet encouragements, and smoothing little matters along the way.

She cannot pinpoint the exact moment Mr. Mellark became dear to her tutor, but she observed Miss Everdeen’s regard for him grow over time until their love was as certain as the wildflowers in the spring.

The only obstacle remaining had been the want of a proper home, which was lately remedied by the purchase of a little estate nearby he had always longed for.

Despite her assurance, Rue still holds her breath, watching the woman, who’s now more friend than governess, as she blushes and nods, a radiant smile spreading across her face.

Rue has made many matches, but this— this, is surely her greatest success!

She’s certain Miss Everdeen, when she recounts the offer to her later, will give many small particulars that suggest her acceptance was purely a rational choice: Mr. Mellark’s good temper and easy manners, his estate’s close proximity to Elevton; but Rue knows reason has little to do with it as she watches her friend and bride-groom elect in tender embrace.

She turns from the door with a satisfied smile. With any luck Mr. Thresh will join them this evening so she may boast her newest triumph!

[strigimorphaes]

The Good Old Days (1.7k, G)

Mads thinks back on a party.

In honor of today's race and matjemads, I am now going to post something I wrote for them. It was originally written for a collaborative fic at the L&C Discord, but real life being real life and there being many contributors, we never reached a point where it was quite ready to publish. But I really want my snippet to see the light of day, so I'm sorry if I'm breaking fandom etiquette, but it's been months and months and the moment is perfect after today's discussion of the 2013 party.

For context: Remco, Jonas and Mads are on a roadtrip through Europe.

.***.

“How do you expect me to stay awake all night to drive you to your race?” asks Remco.

“You could just talk,” Jonas says, still in the back seat. “As long as it’s not talking about what you’ve won. I don’t want to listen to you having a dick-measuring contest.” While Mads ponders how the words dick-measuring contest sound strange in Jonas’ voice, Jonas looks down at his phone. He’s texting someone. 

“I could try to convince you to come to World’s again,” Mads says. “You know you’d be allowed if you wanted to jump in last minute. We’d find a bike for you. I’ve got arguments.” 

“I said no already,” Jonas says, and looks at Remco like a man remembering deep suffering - which means something coming from a man who has made suffering his job. “It’s been a battle to make Mads let me say no.” 

“And the war isn’t over yet,” Mads cheerfully exclaims. “Come on. Another little date with Pogačar.” 

Jonas looks down at his phone and smiles as if there’s a joke Mads isn’t in on. 

Remco looks from Jonas to Mads and back. “Can we pick up snacks while we’re here?” 

It’s not a bad idea. Mads finds it hard to be cross at a German rest stop when they’re so much nicer than the average Danish gas station. So much more choice. Remco compares the nutritional content of protein bars while Jonas scans the headlines of the papers, perhaps testing if his high school German still lingers in his hindbrain. Mads takes his sweet time picking out a soda, then finds the others in the queue. “It’s like I’m back in the U21 category,” Mads muses. “Driving way too far with other riders you don’t always get along with, fucking with the stereo, raiding the Serways. Had some great fun. Some really shit days, too, but also some good times.” He turns to Jonas and adds, in Danish, “Du sku’ ha set det.” 

Not that there’s any point to nostalgia.

[...]

Back on the Autobahn, Jonas drives in silence for a little while before he seems to grow bored. He glances at Mads and asks, “What were the good days like?” 

Mads, who had been lost in his own thoughts, replies with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Back in the day - juniors, like you talked about earlier.” 

“It makes me feel old when you say it like that,” Mads mumbles. “Back in the day.” 

“You picked a bad sport if you don’t want to feel old,” Jonas says. “‘There’s, what, four years between you and Remco? In cycling-years, that’s a decade. You and me, we’re practically middle-aged already.” 

“But we get to see more of the world in one year than most people do in five - even if a lot of it is Serways.” Mads opens his soda and Jonas’, too, handing it over. “I got to see van der Poel drunk off his ass back in my junior years. That was one of the good days - hell, I’ve been teasing him about the stuff he did that night for ages. He was walking around under the influence with a parasol for some reason, and - hey, Remco, you’ve been training with him, haven’t you?” 

“A couple of rides when he was last in the area,” Remco says, a little pride in his voice at being casual acquaintances with the champion. “Do you not like him?” 

“Nah, it’s not like that. We text,” Mads says. “We’re not buddy-buddy, but we can talk. And he is how he is - it’s like how he rides, never really thinking.” 

“Now you are not doing him justice,” Remco cuts in. 

“Mathieu? There's nothing behind the eyes there. He just goes as long as there’s coal in the engine. Same thing in conversation, haven’t you noticed?” Mads turns back to Jonas and adds, “It’s why I like you. We’re both up against people with better engines, so we’ve got to be clever about it.” 

“Speaking of engines,” Jonas says. “There’s this little warning light here, Remco. Is that, uh, normal?” 

“It comes on all the time,” Remco says. “It’s just an issue with the sensors, I think.” 

“You should still get it looked at,” Mads comments, never one for letting a car be mistreated. It’ll probably be fine, though. And it’s not like there’s much they can do about it out here on the road anyways. 

Jonas seems to come to the same conclusion, though he’s definitely still nervous when he asks, “Mads, maybe you can just keep talking so I don’t get nervous about the light?” 

“Yeah, sure. Actually - why don’t we make it a competition? Everyone tells their best drunk story, the loser drives, and the winner gets something nice once we arrive in Poland. That can keep us all entertained without music and stop Jonas from being neurotic about the engine light.” 

“I don’t drink,” Remco says. “Not during the season, anyway. I won’t have much to share.” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I've heard you live like a monk. Make it any kind of story you want, then.” 

“Keep going with the van der Poel story,” Remco then says. “He’ll be one to beat in Zürich, after Pogačar.” 

“There’s not much more to it - he bothered other guys for most of the night, and then…” Mads takes a sip of his soda. Something artificial dissolves on his tongue like the ghost of a peach. He stares out the window at the trees next to the motorway and the fields of Germany. “I can only tell you the rest if you promise you won’t tell anybody, alright Remco? Jonas, I trust, but not you.” Mads points the neck of the bottle towards Remco, who shrugs, then makes a zip-gesture across his mouth. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” 

“Good,” Mads says. “So to set the scene, we’re in Firenze. A warm night in Italy. I’ve won a silver medal, which wasn't what I was hoping for, but anyway, the party’s in full swing. I’m going outside the club for fresh air after too much to drink when I see Mathieu is there, too. He has a parasol, God knows where he got it, and some mini-bottles of Italian liquor - I don't know where he got those either - and he asks what I'm up to. Asks me if I've got my silver medal with me, and then if I want one of these mini bottles of italian alcohol. I’m not in a state where I say no to free drinks, so I have one. He stands with me for a bit just talking in east and west about - I don't know, he's slurring his words a lot."

It's the truth, but there is also a little more to the memory that Mads keeps to himself. Mads couldn't make out the slurred words apart from something about how he should be back somewhere, probably with his team or coach or dad, but he remembers a glimpse of Mathieu's wide eyes telling him that whatever Mathieu said was not what he wanted to tell his fellow rider. Mathieu's hand on his while handing over the bottle. A thumb lingering too long, a curiosity of sorts.

"And then," Mads continues, "Mathieu takes a long look at the party before he just... walks away. Even though he’s the champ and everyone in that party wants to party with him. Okay, maybe some of the people in there didn’t like him, but most of them did. He walks away from the noise and I get worried he’s going to walk into traffic or something, because he’s drunk as hell.”

“So you follow,” Jonas says, bringing the car carefully around a bend in the road. 

“I follow,” Mads replies. “And he goes down to the water - there’s that river in Firenze. There are lamp posts on the side of the bridge. Mathieu is singing something to himself, and then he’s jumping up on the side of the bridge, and he grabs the lamp post and hangs off it like - like Singing in the Rain, even twirling a little.” Mads illustrates with his index finger. “He’s hanging over the water. The Italians look at us like we’re crazy, which we are, but I’m not stupid, so I shout to him that he needs to get fucking down from there or he’ll fall in and drown. He laughs at me, and then he jumps.” 

Mads takes another sip of the soda, finishing the bottle. 

“Into my arms,” he then says, to his listeners’ relief, “not the water. I don’t know what happened in his head, but to him, that was apparently the thing to do. When I caught him, I pretty much dropped him straight on the ground. Gave him a few blue marks. When I saw him the next time a year later, he said he didn’t remember it. But I did hold him bridal style there for a second.” 

Secretly, Mads finds it hard to believe that Mathieu doesn’t remember it. Mads was drunk, too, but he remembers the sound of his own words ringing out over the river - the first words being in the universal language, the rest still understandable to Mathieu though they were in Mads’ mother tongue - “Fucking idiot! Kom her! It’s time to go back.” 

He remembers Mathieu looking at him, his expression somewhere between elation and fear the way you only feel it when something very good has happened and opened up a new path into a new future, a future as vast as the dark over the river, all the lights gleaming in his too-wide eyes and a gaze saying neither of us know where we’re going. 

But they went back. A cool breeze sobered both of them up a little on the way to the party where Mads left Mathieu behind so they could both spend this precious time with people they actually liked. Mads remembers walking away with the feeling he’d done well; he remembers dancing some more, all those sweaty bodies around him and a rhythm pounding in his chest and the thought that this was like racing, being among these blurry streaks of color on the other side of exhaustion with ever-changing partners.

Mads remembers the taste of the liqueur: A strong lemon flavor followed by the acid burn inside his mouth where he had bitten his cheek earlier on. It lasted a long time. 

“Sometimes,” Mads says, “I think of him doing that stupid Singing-in-the-rain-twirl when he’s looking too smug on the podium.” 

And Jonas smiles at that. Mission accomplished. 

[princessleechan]

"You're the man!" Chapter 29 (written chapter)

Masterlist

⚽Chapter tags: MDNI, she’s the man au, revenge au???, cross dressing!reader, reader identifies anything but male, sports au, queer themes, university au, love-whatever the fuck kind of shape, double date time, awkwardness, wonwoo's little operation, soccer boy banter, suggestive

⚽Tag list: @90s-belladonna @the-boy-meets-evil @lirtha97 @hipsdofangirl @justineasian @kwanisms @multi-kpop-fanfics @pantumin @wooahaeproductions @mayashu @shuasdraftsalt @lone-lone-ranger @headlockimnida @horanghaezone @haolistic @porridgesblog @jeonjungkaka @luchiet @ujimatchaaa @skzdesi @cheoliehansolie @vlbii @myghobi @sisterofsomeone @joonsytip @gyublues @alltheshineofthestars-blog @randomworker @isabellah29 @savgogh @too-many-kpop-hubands @shingsoluvely @kamabokogonpachro @skittlez-area512 @seccdlurv @chisskaa @mochiteez @theyluvfrankocean @lllucere @thomawifey @middle-of-the-earth @okiedokrie @itsokaytobedumb00 @humankimbap @zezedoesshit @teenyfinds @jeonghansshitester @aaa-sia @heyitz00 @silvsie

You couldn't feel more awkward sitting next to a girl you've barely known for five minutes while Chae throws herself onto Mingyu across from you, their closeness unbearable. Your gaze shifts to Ruka, your date for the evening, who remains absorbed in the game on her phone, her attention unwavering and completely detached from the dry atmosphere between you two.

Just perfect.

“I’m so happy to see us all here, right Gyu?” Chae's voice is tinged with playful affection as she clings to your roommate's bicep, her fingers lightly tracing over his firm, taut skin. Mingyu, caught off guard by her touch, tries his best to maintain composure and not melt under her lingering caress.

“Y-yeah. It’s great,” he stammers, clearly flustered.

You nod half-heartedly in agreement, the uncomfortable silence thickening the air between you and Ruka. She sits unmoving besides her finger tips, her focus unwaveringly locked onto the tiny screen of her phone, seemingly oblivious to the world around her. The ambient sounds of the restaurant—the clinking of utensils, distant chatter—fade into the background, and you feel like a useless fourth wheel with holes jabbed at either side.

Meanwhile, 'Operation: Save Wonwoo’s Love Life' is in full swing. Wonwoo and his carefully curated team sit in the shadows of a dimly lit booth, strategically positioned far enough away to avoid detection but close enough to catch snippets of the conversation—or the lack thereof—at the next table. Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, the lenses reflecting the faint light, before hiding behind his newspaper, leaning back against the worn leather booth and pretending to mind his own business.

“You know you only look more suspicious like that,” Jeonghan quips, his eyes darting briefly from his phone screen, where he's engrossed in scrolling through social media. The other boys—Jihoon, Soonyoung, Joshua, and Junhui—take Wonwoo's lead, their gazes fixed on the double date unfolding before them like they're watching a dramatic reality show.

“Until it fails me, it hasn’t failed me yet,” Wonwoo mutters, his voice tinged with anxiety as he peeks over the top of the newspaper.

Jihoon coughs in disdain, "I swear, we're one restraining order away from becoming stalkers.”

Junhui hums appreciatively as he savors his sundae, each spoonful a taste of pure bliss. The rich chocolate sauce drips down the sides, and he makes a show of enjoying every bite. “You guys need to try the new dessert specials. It’s so good.”

“How are you eating dessert already?” Joshua asks, eyeing the decadent confection with envy as he lowers his newspaper. “Our entrees haven’t even come out yet.”

“I got excited and came by early,” Junhui explains with a sheepish grin, offering a spoonful to Joshua. “Want some?”

“Of course,” Joshua replies sassily, but he takes the spoonful almost immediately, the sweet treat melting on his tongue.

“Guys,” Wonwoo exclaims, exasperated, as he rustles the cumbersome stack of papers in front of him. “Focus, boys. I’m about to lose my girl to the eighth dwarf, Slutty.”

Jeonghan rests a reassuring hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder, his touch meant to calm the frazzled mastermind, though a hint of amusement plays at the corners of his lips. “I really don’t think you have a problem with Yeonam, but who am I to question your judgment?”

“I have a question though,” Jihoon interjects, nursing his Coke Zero with delicate fingertips as he stirs it with a singular straw. “What exactly are we supposed to do? Watch their date like some weird old perverts and twiddle our thumbs while we wait for it to fail?”

Wonwoo sighs, frustrated, and puts down his newspaper. “No, we ensure that Ruka comes out of this still single.” His determination is palpable, a blend of desperation and hope driving his every move. “My chances were already low, I don't want them to be zero.”

“For what? For you to yandere over her in the shadows?” Jihoon taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t make me climb over there.”

“Guys, wait,” Soonyoung gently halts them, his voice unusually serious. “Look.”

The boys' attention shifts to Ruka, who suddenly slams a palm against the table, her scowl deepening. “Fuck! Two stars? This shit’s annoying.”

“Ruka, look up from your phone, girlie,” Chae encourages brightly, her arm still linked with Mingyu's. “Yeonam was so excited for this.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, haha.” You force a grin, turning to your date. “So, did you win?”

Ruka scoffs dismissively, her attention still fixated on her phone. Without acknowledging your question, she flags down a passing waiter with practiced ease. The waiter moves swiftly, as if guided by the wind, and returns promptly with another shiny aluminum can of Mountain Dew Kickstart. Ruka cracks it open with a familiar motion, taking a long gulp, nearly draining half of it in one go, and returning to her mobile game.

Wonwoo shrugs, his voice tinged with resignation. “Monster is the better choice–if not the right one–but not all relationships are perfect.”

“This is so stupid,” Jihoon grits out, already letting his impatience show.

Meanwhile, Chae delicately prods at her date, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness as his arm was sandwiched between her breasts bulging through her shirt. “Mingyu, I’m having a great time.”

“Really?” Mingyu's eyes light up, hope and happiness dancing across his face like flickering flames.

“Mmhmm,” Chae hums softly, her gaze locking with his, eyes sparkling with genuine enjoyment.

And here you had believed men couldn’t be more uncomplicated. Despite the sparse exchange of words throughout the date, Mingyu is visibly enthralled by Chae’s simple affirmation. You observe him practically glowing with delight, his usually composed demeanor giving way to earnest stammered compliments, each word twisting a dull ache deeper into your gut.

“So, Chae,” you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from your discomfort. “When did you know you liked Mingyu?”

“Oh me? Well, I guess I’ve always known how…strapping he is, but he’s always felt out of reach, but I said ‘fuck it.’ So I finally picked up my boots and asked him out. And boy do I not regret it.” She drags her fingers down his chest with deliberate slowness, tracing the divide between his pectorals, eliciting timid giggles from him. The sensation of her touch against his skin causes Mingyu to squirm slightly, caught between delight and nervous anticipation.

“That tickles.”

She laughs, running her perfectly manicured fingers through his hair and enraging you even more. “Sorry, You’re just so adorable.”

“Right, right.” You interrupt. “But you like him, why? Surely it’s not just because of his looks.”

“Of course not,” she chuckles, “he’s also like so…ambitious. Athletic. Charming? Need I go on?”

“Sure, those are great qualities but—“

“Are you jealous? Yeonam, Ruka is right next to you.” Her teasing tone carries a hint of amusement as her eyes flicker over to your date.

You steal a glance at Ruka, noticing her continued absorption in the game on her phone. Despite your attempt at a smile, a knot of unease tightens in your stomach, and you nervously rub your dry palms against your textured pants. The soft hum of the restaurant surrounds you as Ruka leisurely takes another long sip from her recently acquired Mountain Dew, seemingly indifferent to the suffocating tension that fills the air, particularly affecting you.

“I’m not jealous,” you assert quietly, though the words feel hollow in the midst of the uncomfortable silence.

“Really? Because you’re acting like I’ll steal your roommate right from under you.”

“Yeah, Yeonam,” Mingyu agrees with a chuckle, “it’s all good. What’s the issue?”

"Just making conversation, Ruka. So, do you like… cheese?"

She responds with a slight grimace, a fleeting expression of annoyance crossing her features, before swiftly returning her gaze to her phone screen. The dim glow illuminates her indifferent expression as she continues tapping away, lost in her virtual world.

“Great,” you mutter.

“That’s my girl,” Wonwoo grins, brimming with pride.

“This date is kinda lame,” Soonyoung mumbles before Jeonghan chimes in similarly, “Yeah. When does it get good?”

“This isn’t a fucking soap opera,” Wonwoo retorts, “just keep watch.”

The date takes a turn when Chae gets confident. His hands move with gumption, gliding over Mingyu’s skin as her lips run a feiry path down his neck. A moan escapes past his lips as he leans into her, gently caressing her shoulders, and getting into the rhythm faster than any blue hedgehog.

“Oh here we go,” Soonyoung observes with a growing smile.

“Mingyu, you useless virgin,” Wonwoo grumbles.

Barely able to endure another second of the couple in front of you lost in primal acts, you reach your breaking point. A storm of frustration brews in your chest, and your fingers dig into the denim of your Levi jeans, the fabric stretched tight against your tense thighs. With a shallow breath, you gather your resolve before abruptly rising from the booth.

“You know, I think I forgot to do something back at the dorms. Sorry for the abrupt end, Ruka, but maybe we shouldn't do this again. Bye.” Your words come out rushed, laced with unease and annoyance.

You storm out, leave the boys watching in a bit of shock before they avert their gazes back to the threesome as sound of the door swinging shut behind you with a decisive thud erupts a domino effect. As Chae watches your departure, she disengages from Mingyu as swiftly as if unclasping Velcro, her expression shifting to a forced, amicable grin. “Yeah, this was nice, but I've got to go too,” she says quickly, her eyes darting between Mingyu and the exit you just stormed through.

“What? Why?” Mingyu asks, disappointment evident in his voice, heart still pounding from the tension Chae’s abrupt display of affection.

“Sorry. I just suddenly remembered I think I left my living room lights on, but this was fun. We should do it again. See you.” And with that, Chae exits just as swiftly as you, leaving Mingyu to process her departure.

He turns to his roommate's abandoned date, Ruka, who is still engrossed in her phone, and slumps down in his chair, not only disappointed but regretful. “So, you and Chae are cousins?” he engage awkwardly.

“Mmhmm,” Ruka replies nonchalantly.

He scratches his forehead, blowing an exhausted sigh. “Did you like the date?”

She shrugs. “Whatever.”

“…What Valorant rank are you?”

Ruka pauses her game for once, looking up at Mingyu with a hint of interest, thumb pads hovering over her phone screen. “Ascendant. Why?”

“Want to know an Immortal, before he becomes Radiant?” Mingyu suggests with a grin

“You’re an Immortal?” Ruka asks, intrigued.

“No, but I know one.”

And somewhere in that restaurant sits a very embarrassed man with strawberry colored ear tips and bright tomato expression, he was ready to crawl back in his humble hole now.

[circle-with-me]

in this light, you are mine - jolly karlsson x nick ruffilo

collaboration with @deathblacksmoke

pairing: jolly karlsson x nicholas ruffilo

tags/content warning: ⚠️ 18+MDNI!! au of sorts // tattooer nick/non-bad omens band jolly,roommates to lovers, pining, rough oral sex (male receiving), handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, overstimulation, cum eating.

tag list: @concretenoah @malice-ov-mercy @sitkowski @somebodyels3 @baddestomens @cookiesupplier @collective-heartbreak @tearfallpixie @broken0mens @collapsedglasshouses @lma1986 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @meekahy @to-be-written @sammyjoeee @catharsis-in-darkness @unicornfairytail @itsafullmoon @slutfornoahsebastian @cheyyyyr @agravemisstake

word count: 4.2k

sign up for my tag list here

author’s note: this fic has been teased for quite some time now and i appreciate everyone’s patience and support as we’ve shared snippets and hyped it up. working with my bestie @deathblacksmoke has been incredible. i think we’ve created something wonderful and hope to share more with y’all in the future. thank you to our lovely @darksigns-exe for the beta 🩷

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩷

“Where is it?!” Jolly grumbles, angrily sifting through his clothes hamper for the third time. He has checked his closet, under his bed, his drawers, the laundry room, everywhere for his favorite hoodie but it was nowhere to be found. The hoodie was a bright yellow and navy thing, very hard to miss. It was merchandise from a hockey team in his hometown in Sweden, even if they weren’t that great, it was still comfortable.

He racks his brain thinking of where it could be when he remembers his roommates' propensity to steal his clothes. Normally, Jolly wouldn’t mind sharing. The issue is that Nick takes his possessions without permission. His favorite snacks frequently disappear from the pantry; his shirts are stolen without being returned.

Jolly even found he had used the last bit of his very expensive shampoo when he was in the shower. He became so enraged that he jumped out of the shower in only a towel, covered in soap. The moment he located Nick he began shouting at him in Swedish, pointing the empty shampoo bottle at him. Nick just stood there, red-faced and flustered.

Jolly’s shampoo was left alone after that.

He surmises he’s discovered the culprit of the missing hoodie, instantly stalking down the hallway to Nick’s room. Jolly bursts through the door without knocking, annoyance plastered all over his face. The look swiftly fades as soon as he lays eyes on the younger man.

His roommate was indeed wearing his hoodie and while Jolly expected to be perturbed he instead found himself entranced. It wasn’t the hoodie itself so much but that he was only wearing the hoodie along with some white crew socks. It was so large on him that Jolly wasn’t even sure if he was wearing boxers underneath. He definitely looked, however, unable to take his eyes off how it had ridden up Nick’s thighs in the position he was sitting.

Nick says his name but it’s more of a question – an inquiry as to why Jolly just angrily stomped into his room. Jolly doesn’t answer, however, slowly backing out of the room and walking back to his own. He lies back on his bed huffing, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

They haven’t been roommates for long — maybe six months at the most. Jolly was left alone in the house after his last relationship ended. His band wasn’t big yet, but they went on small tours throughout the year. He didn’t want the house to sit by itself while he was gone so he placed an ad for a roommate.

Nick was the only person who replied that was even remotely suitable to live with. He had a job at a local tattoo shop and a good head on his shoulders. He even liked some of the same music as Jolly. Nick assured him that he was quiet and would barely know he was there, so he took a chance.

Their schedules being what they were, it was rare they saw each other during the day. Nick always stayed late at the shop and Jolly either was out of town or playing local shows late into the night. Both of them slept well into the afternoon if they didn’t have plans and kept to themselves.

One night, Jolly returned home to find Nick cooking, almost every dish in the kitchen was sitting dirty in the sink. Jolly had no idea how it took that many dishes just to make spaghetti, but he overlooked it. He teased Nick about what could possibly possess him to cook a whole meal at two in the morning and he shrugged as he handed Jolly a plate.

“My mama always told me that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Jolly remembers how he had to fight away the butterflies in his stomach that night. The sweet smile Nick gave him didn’t help. The tightness in his throat made it difficult to swallow down the feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

After that, their late-night kitchen meetings became more frequent. They weren’t always over a huge meal. Most of the time they had stove top ramen or ice cream. Jolly finally felt like he was starting to get to know his roommate more, but the more comfortable they became the more he felt the need to pull away.

Jolly found himself staring at him longer than he should. He’d walk around in nothing but thin pajama pants, his soft belly slightly protruding over the waistband. Often he would catch himself wondering how it would feel to run his hands down the sides of Nick’s torso. Was he ticklish there? What kind of soft pretty noises would he make when he nipped at the flesh by his hip bo-

Jolly shakes his head, clearing the thought out of his brain. Just the memory of his filthy ideas were enough to get him worked up. He pinches the bridge of his nose, willing the stiffening in his pants to go away.

But he does feel something — a giddy sort of nervous energy when he arrives home to find Nick’s car in the driveway, wondering what he’s up to and hoping for another chat in the kitchen. A longing for Nick not to steal his hoodies, but to give them to him to wear when they’re apart. It’s a feeling he wasn’t expecting, hasn’t known quite this well before, but it’s enough.

It’s enough to have him moving back towards Nick’s door, knocking lightly before twisting the doorknob once more.

Nick sits perched comfortably atop his bed with one knee bent up against his chest and the other looped around the front of him. His arms are wrapped around his leg, head gently laid on top of his knee. The black-rimmed glasses he wears are screwed up on his face from the angle but he doesn’t seem phased by it. His black hair is tied into a bun that shakes slightly when he laughs at whatever he’s watching on tv. Jolly can’t seem to muster the strength to look away.

Nick glances over at him, propping his chin on his knee. He speaks but Jolly can’t hear him from all of the blood rushing through his ears. He’s far too preoccupied with the way Nick’s hand is now drifting against his thigh. Jolly swallows harshly, pushing his tongue out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Nick smirks, patting the space in front of him. Somehow Jolly manages to push himself forward to sit on the bed with him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times to speak but finds he can’t articulate his thoughts. If he’s being honest, he’s unsure if anything going through his mind should be spoken out loud.

Jolly has a hunch that Nick knows what he’s thinking about though. He doesn’t miss the way Nick’s eyes wander, from his eyes, down to his lips and back up again.

Without thinking, Jolly takes Nick’s face in his hands and kisses him firmly on the lips. There’s no discussion, no exchange of words between them, but something about the look on Nick’s face told him it was okay.

Nick fumbles with the bottom of Jolly’s shirt to tug it over his head. Jolly complains to no one in particular about the inconvenience of clothes. Nick smiles against his mouth, nipping hesitantly at Jolly’s bottom lip. He breaks the kiss, to Jolly’s protest, lying back against his pillows in an invitation for him to follow.

Using both hands to spread Nick’s legs, Jolly kneels between them. He taps a finger on Nick’s knee as he contemplates where he wants to start first. He detects a hint of self-doubt on the younger man’s face and rushes to set his mind at ease.

Their lips collide with each other, to his surprise Nick is the first to request access with his tongue and Jolly gladly allows him. He moves his hands to the hem of his hoodie, gliding them up Nick’s thighs. He jumps at the contact and gasps into Jolly’s mouth. He chuckles, continuing his exploration.

Jolly wraps his fingers around his hips squeezing at the flesh. Nick makes another sound akin to a whimper. He squeezes again, another whimper.

“Mmm.. So responsive.” Jolly says, nibbling at Nick’s lower lip. “I haven’t even made it to my favorite parts of you, yet.”

Both hands slide up Nick’s belly, pushing the hoodie up as they move. His muscles twitch when Jolly’s fingers brush at the top of his waistline and he forces himself to hide a smile. Nick is ticklish. The flesh of his stomach is just as soft on his lips as he had imagined. The noises he makes when he sinks his teeth into him are even better.

Nick’s fingers dig into Jolly’s shoulders. Jolly bites down a little harder and he hisses, earning a quiet apology and his tongue soothing the area. Nick rolls his hips but Jolly presses him back down into the mattress.

“Patience, raring,” Jolly says, dragging his tongue over the patch of hair at the bottom of his stomach. “I’m still playing.”

Jolly feels his cock twitching against his chest. It takes every ounce of restraint not to pull him out of his boxers and suck him off. He hasn’t done that in a long time, though. Probably since his mid-twenties. His skills have gone to shit.

Nick interrupts his thoughts when he wiggles beneath him, a demanding whimper commanding his attention. Jolly cocks an eyebrow, waiting for him to use his words.

“Why’d you stop?”

Jolly crawls up his body, their faces now parallel to each other. Their lips graze, and Jolly pulls away playfully when Nick tries to kiss him.

“Sorry, love.” He pins him down with the weight of his hips, grinding Nick’s hard length against his own. “Bit distracted by everything I want to do to you.”

Nick wraps his hand around the back of Jolly’s head and crashes their lips together. The surprised noise he makes at his sudden surge of confidence turns into a strangled moan as Nick pushes his hand into Jolly’s sweatpants, closing his hand around his cock.

The expertise of Nick’s hand working him over has Jolly seeing stars. His touch is just on the right side of too rough. Reluctantly, he pulls Nick’s hand from his pants. Nick makes it clear he’s not pleased, however Jolly never lets go of his wrist—spitting in his palm and returning it, moving his hand for him to spread the saliva over his cock.

He stifles his moans against Nick’s mouth, and he swallows everything Jolly offers him. It doesn’t take long before he’s buried in the crook of his neck, hips desperately jutting into Nick’s fist. He nips at every centimeter of skin he can reach, uttering praises after each one. Nick’s hand moves faster in time with his thrusts, filthy gasps flooding his ears.

His orgasm builds quickly and he wants to succumb so badly, but he pulls Nick’s hand away again. He doesn’t complain this time, a smirk playing on his lips. Jolly sits up to catch his breath, passing a hand through his hair. Nick follows, seizing the opportunity to mark up his stomach.

Jolly can’t resist admiring him as he methodically nibbles his skin and soothes the area with his tongue. His thick eyelashes flutter so prettily as he blinks. The full lips that press against his body are soft, his top lip bearing a perfectly accentuated cupid’s bow.

His nose, Jolly thinks, is his favorite part. It grazes against him and he briefly wonders what it would be like to feel it pressed into his stomach while he’s deep in Nick’s throat. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought and he absentmindedly squeezes the back of Nick’s neck. His eyelashes flutter again; blue eyes moving upward to meet Jolly’s.

“Was starting to think you would never catch the hint,” He mumbles against his stomach, sucking another bruise into the flesh. “I’ve been waiting for a long time for you to make a move.” He slides his hands down Jolly’s sides, flexing his fingers around his hips.

“As you can see, I had to take matters into my own hands,” He pulls away slightly and Jolly’s grip on his neck tightens. It eases when he sees Nick’s fingers dipping into the band of his pants pulling them down enough to release his aching cock. The way that Nick licks his lips at the sight of him is dizzying.

“You mentioned one night how it drove you crazy to see your partners wearing your clothes. So I decided I’d give it a shot.” Nick takes him in hand, collecting the mess that had gathered at his tip. Jolly bucks into his hand and he smirks. “I guess it worked, huh, baby?”

Jolly removes his hand from Nick’s neck and places both hands on his shoulders, his hold now bruising. He’s putty in his hands and Nick knows it. A cocky smile spreads across his face as he slowly jerks him, occasionally placing soft kisses and licks on the head but nothing more.

“N-Nick…” He whines.

“Do you ever think of me?” Jolly groans at the question, his mind racing through all of the times he’s come over his fist thinking about the beautiful boy beneath him. He manages out a pathetic yes, eliciting a quiet laugh from Nick.

“I’ll tell you about a time I thought of you and then you can tell me one, how about that?”

Jolly doesn’t answer, he just stares down at him in anticipation.

“That day you got mad about your shampoo,” Nick giggles. “You came out of the shower dripping wet. Face all red. Yelling at me. So angry.” He wraps his lips around him and Jolly gasps. He pulls away as soon as he feels Jolly start to push into his mouth.

“It was so hot seeing you mad, hearing you yell in Swedish. You were so upset I bet you didn’t even notice how hard I was.” He reaches his hand underneath and massages him, a quiet “fuck” falling from his lips.

“You know, we should really invest in better towels, Jolls.” Nick says, wrapping his tongue around the velvety head. “I could see the outline of your dick through that paper-thin towel you had on. I came so fucking hard touching myself that ni-”

Nick’s sentence is interrupted by Jolly’s thick cock being shoved in his mouth. He waited as long as he could, but when a pretty boy is bragging about touching himself to the thought of his cock — why shouldn’t he give him what he wants?

Nick struggles to adjust to the girth in his mouth. Jolly grips his messy bun, his other hand grabbing his chin. He soothes his jaw, encouraging him to relax. With each thrust into Nick’s mouth, his eyes fill up with tears. The way he looks up at him as he swirls his tongue around him has Jolly feeling feral.

“That’s it, Nicky. Take it all. Cocky boys get their mouths stuffed.”

Muffled gagging noises send vibrations straight through him as he hits the back of his throat. A tear rolls down Nick’s cheek and he’s quick to wipe it away with his thumb, rubbing lightly over the cheekbone as a silent check in. Nick taps his thigh once in reassurance. Jolly smiles and praises him, his fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You wanna know if I ever think about you, huh?” He grunts, rutting into Nick’s mouth. Nick hums in response, eyes fixed on Jolly.

“That night — God, that night you came to my show. We got really drunk afterward. You were bending over the pool table at the bar lining up your shot.”

“Had on those skin tight black jeans, fuck, when you looked back and winked at me. Knew you had caught me.” Jolly swears he can see Nick smiling around him. The glint in his eyes gives away that he remembers exactly what night he’s referring to.

“Couldn’t decide if I wanted to drag you into the bathroom or take you home and shove that pretty face of yours into the mattress.” Jolly pushes Nick’s head down further onto him and he gags. Tears fall freely from his eyes but he makes sure to give Jolly another tap to keep going.

“Instead I just fucked my fist in the shower when we got home. Moaning your name and hoping you couldn’t hear me.”

Nick moans at his confession, swallowing around him. Jolly throws his head back, pulling his hair by the roots. He slows down, drawing himself down his tongue until he pops out of Nick’s mouth. Gasping for air, he immediately grabs Jolly’s shaft to place him between his lips. Jolly laughs, pulling him off of him by his hair.

“Is my pretty boy drunk on my cock?” He breathes. Nick nods almost too eagerly, saliva falling from his open mouth. Jolly licks his lips, dragging them between his teeth. “Do you want me to fuck you like I’ve wanted to all this time? Fuck you in my hoodie and make you mine?”

Nick scrambles up Jolly’s torso to beg against his lips. Jolly lets him plead, plant kiss after kiss against him, relishing in the moment he’s wanted for so long. He gently pushes him back onto the bed, leaving Nick looking bewildered. He discards his sweatpants on the side of the bed, never breaking eye contact.

At the sight of Nick on his back for him, wide-eyed and eager but so very shy, his brain empties. This beautiful boy, putting all his trust in him, so pretty and pliable—he has to give himself a moment to enjoy it, to find his center.

Slowly, he lowers himself to cover Nick’s body with his own. As he kisses him, he savors the way Nick sighs into his mouth, threading his fingers through Jolly’s hair and relaxing further into the mattress.

He suddenly finds himself underdressed, completely bare above a mostly-clothed Nick, and he needs it to change immediately. Nick lets out the prettiest little whine when his boxers are slid down his legs. It’s music to his ears.

“Do you have—” he starts to say, burying his face in Nick’s neck, exasperated. Almost all of his confidence from moments ago has dissipated. It’s been a long time, is the thing. Without putting much thought into it, he couldn’t say when he last did this. He came in here so unprepared. But he has to get inside him. “Do you have lube, Nicky?”

Nick nods urgently. Jolly swears he can feel him vibrating beneath him.

“Bedside table,” he says. “Top drawer.”

He feels out of his element, shaky and unsure as he pours some lube out onto his fingers. He’s not exactly a novice, he has experience, but something about Nick and this entire situation makes him feel like a blushing virgin again. He has to make this good for him. He has to make it perfect so he can have it again.

Lying on his tummy with Nick’s legs slung over his shoulders, it all feels so real. Nick is the one presenting himself, vulnerable and bare for Jolly for the first time, but it’s Jolly who feels on display. It’s Jolly who feels like he has a hell of a lot to prove.

He gets his bearings with an experimental little swipe of his index finger around the tight ring of muscle. Nick moans so sweetly at the first push in, relaxing for him impressively, and Jolly finds his confidence coming back to him.

“Jolls,” Nick whines, already bearing down impatiently on his finger. The squirming has him wondering if he should press a hand to his hip, hold him down, but he decides against it. He’ll let the boy have his fun. “Jolls, please, more. I need it, baby, please.”

Never one to say no to such a pretty boy, especially when he begs like that, so polite, so sweet, he adds another finger. The relaxation, once again, is immediate. Nick accepts him so readily, almost like he was prepared for this but—no, he won’t think about that. Even as he pulls his fingers back out, going back in with a third just to see.

It’s a stretch, but barely. It’s suspiciously easy.

“You’re already open, aren’t you, love?” Jolly asks. Though the angle isn’t perfect to see Nick’s expression, he can see the way Nick lifts his hand and covers his face, so fucking shy. “Taking my fingers so easily, Nicky. You’ve been playing with this pretty little hole, haven’t you?”

God, he wishes he could see his face. He wishes he could have a hand on his soft skin as it heats with embarrassment like he knows it is right now. It’s enough, though, to see the way Nick nods so urgently. He knew it.

“Please, Joakim,” Nick gasps. He’s so desperate for it. Jolly thinks he feels pretty similar. “I need you to fuck me.”

How could he ever say no to that?

For all of the urgency he felt previously, suddenly he finds himself no longer needing to rush. The man who is so beautifully wrapped around him breathes into him like he’s his only source of oxygen. He continues to meet Jolly’s thrusts even as they slow into a languid pace.

The slower Jolly moves inside of him, the more anguished Nick’s whimpers become. He presses his head against the pillow, moaning Joakim repeatedly and he isn’t sure he can go back to hearing him call him Jolly ever again.

He kisses the tears streaming down Nick’s face, whispering quiet praises. Alternating between his neck and clavicle, he leaves soft bites marking his territory. They’re mostly for him. A reminder to himself that this moment is real. For once, he’s not going to open his eyes and it all be a fantasy.

Jolly grabs the headboard for leverage; pushing long and deep strokes into him. His other hand holds onto his waist, pinning him down to keep him in place. He feels Nick squirm beneath him, desperate for more.

“J-Joakim.. Ahh.. Please..”

“Shh. It’s okay, love.” Jolly whispers into his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Nick threads his hands into his hair, pulling him in for a needy, wet kiss. His efforts to plead for more again fail as Jolly grinds deep into him. He feels Nick’s legs tremble around him and he doesn’t mind when they loosen a little. He runs his hand up his thigh, back to his hip, and underneath his hoodie to Nick’s dripping cock.

He cries out, arching his chest into Jolly’s as he begins to jerk him just as slowly as he rocks into him. Nick whimpers something unintelligible, squeezing his eyes shut. Jolly observes him as he falls apart beneath him, never imagining anything or anyone could be this perfect.

“I-I.. F- Oh-oh my god.” Nick stutters, dragging his lips between his teeth.

“I know, baby. It’s a lot isn’t it?”

Jolly’s question is answered when he feels Nick clench around him. He loses his grip on the headboard nearly falling on top of him but manages to recover in time. His resolve breaks, snapping his hips and moving his fist over Nick faster. He gasps then whines and Jolly fucks him harder, desperate for him to make that sound again. Nick’s cock twitches in his hand, and he feels him tighten once again.

“You’re so close, raring. I can feel it. Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

Nick chokes out a sob; white hot ropes of cum pulse over Jolly’s hand and onto Nick’s belly. Nick watches as he works him through it, panting, fingers clutching the sheets. Jolly presses their foreheads together and their eyes meet. Nick pushes his hair out of his face, pressing their lips together. Jolly sighs against his mouth, kissing him harder, lips curling into a smile before he’s gasping and releasing inside of him.

He’s barely caught his breath before he releases his hold on Nick, pushing his semen coated fingers into his mouth. Jolly hums, savoring the flavor - he tastes just as good as he imagined. Nick wraps his hand around his wrist, tugging his hand towards his own mouth. Jolly smirks, allowing him to taste what remained of him. It’s a filthy yet beautifully intimate moment between them, and he can’t look away.

They settle into each other's arms, sinking as far into the mattress as possible. The silence between them is comfortable. He listens as Nick’s pulse slows down; the rise and fall of his chest lulling him into a sense of security. He wants to tell him everything, every single thought and feeling roaming inside of his head. For the moment, he’s perfectly content laying here with his beautiful boy, softening inside of him.

Jolly’s fingers twist around the hoodie strings. It’s almost funny how upset he was such a short while ago. He can’t imagine it belonging to anyone but Nick now.

[dyaz-stories]

oh gosh i just want to say that i really admire your works and how perfectly youre able to portray hyun-su !! i always get immersed in the story, you are genuinely such a great writer !! <3

Thank you so much for saying that!! Hyun-Su is such a lovely character to write and I'm so glad you're enjoying my take on him. on a tangentially related note, it's very funny to see so many fellow stays and other kpop stans following me since i've started writing for him, hadn't realized there was such a crossover between kpop and kdrama fans lol, though i guess i should have 😁

Anyway, I've written around 2k words for my next piece on him today, so here's a snippet featuring Hyun-Su's monster! Hope you enjoy it!

He shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms.

Full one-shot here (NSFW)

[mycupofrum]

Tell me about CEO black pls!

Hi! Thanks for your asks @lilacella and @bullets-from-another-dimension! 😊

CEO Black is a non-magical AU where Sirius is the CEO of Black Media. He has a one night stand with a stranger who later turns out to be none other than his new Communications Director, James Potter. Lots of pining and sexual tension in the office ensues, because it would, of course, be very unprofessional to be meddling with your employee/boss. 😂

I’ve written the prequels First day of work and Need you tonight (which is a missing scene from First day of work), but so far the actual sequel that is CEO Black (or whatever I choose to call it) is still very much a WIP. 😄 I have some links to previously posted snippets here but I haven’t been working on this one in a while. 🥲 But I will give you a snippet!

He only needed to keep his cool around Potter and pretend as if nothing had ever happened between them. He could do that, he was Sirius Black. Nothing could get under his skin. “Anyway, I wanted to come and see you and give you my weekly report since I missed the meeting this morning.” Potter looked up through his long lashes, his hazel eyes glinting. “A simple written report would have been fine.” “I wanted to give it to you orally. Sir.” A muscle clenched on Sirius's jaw. Jesus Christ. Did Potter even realise the things he let slip out? He probably did, the sly bastard.

“Since you’re here,” Sirius drawled, “I suppose you might as well put your money where your mouth is.” He didn’t mean to flirt, but seeing Potter’s smile falter for a second was most satisfying.

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

The last one I did may have been in September. 👀 Been a long time. Haven’t really been writing much fanfic. Stuck on different papers for school. I was tagged by @evolnoomym and she shared ideas so I will too! ❤️ @pr3ttynpiink also tagged me and looks to be cooking up some fun new fics. 🥰

I want to write something for Modern Din and Christmas to go in my series: This is the Neighborhood Din, but it will likely need a chapter between that to make sense. (Every so often I care about making sense). Also more Luke doing Jedi yoga on his lawn and Poe & Finn being boyfriends because I want it all!

I need to write a new chapter of Weddings 101 with Dieter. Kinda left on a cliffhanger and a lot happened in my mind that should be posted 🤣

There’s a little over a month until the DMAMC 2025 challenge is due, haven’t written anything. Actually forgot about it, but fear not! I’ll think of something. 👀 My character is Pero Tovar (I doomed myself by picking him 😭 like the level of difficulty). But maybe I’ll revisit a pairing I’ve done.

Random but working on a Baldur’s Gate 3 fic and bugging @perotovar (Erin beta read for me what I have so far), @megamindsecretlair reads the snippets I send her and @soft-persephone looks at the pics I send her and is honest 🤣🤣🤣). Everyone’s favorite moody (for many a legit reason) and murderous pale elf who’s a vampire Astarion and an OFC. Things that happened between these two: a lot of staring, mocking Gale (everyone’s favorite past time- he makes it easy but also the wizard is really nice insane like everyone else but nice), drying some hair, hugs and some tears. Lots of angst, fluff and comfort. Haven’t decided on smut yet, is likely but I’ll see how it reads.

Didn’t realize that A Safe Place for Us was up to chapter 7 on AO3 and only 5 on Tumblr 👀 My bad. I should be able to post one chapter on here before November ends. The formatting and graphics take me the longest. 🤓

I also have a secret Santa fic things I’m supposed to be working on for a discord group but I also have not started. 👀 Unsure of which direction it should go in. I’ll figure it out, eventually I think.

The first paragraph of chapter five of “A Safe Place for Us”:

Waking up to Dieter takes getting used to for Aisha. It’s not unwelcome, she’s just not used to someone clinging to her like he does. Every morning he stays at her apartment is one where he has his arm and head somewhere on her. Chest, stomach, thigh, back, ass one time because he enjoys scissoring her entrance wider and scooping his spend that drips out of her back in before pumping his fingers to stir his cum within her.

Yeah…chapter five is…a ride so to speak. 👀 Forgot we had a strong start.

I found a WIP that contains Marcus Pike angst:

His romantic relationships and come and gone just like yours but you always had each other. Though, you treated yours as ways to work off the need you felt for your friend. To distract yourself, even when you were with your other partners, you’d think of him during the throws of passion, even when having simple meals and they may chew too loudly. You loathed your behavior toward your partners and your friend, biting your lips to not utter his name while under someone else.

“Marcus…”

Is the only name you want to say but can’t.

Hmm….might be a good holiday one or something. 🤔

That’s the ideas for now. Always a lot and never finished. ✅ Would it be Nerdie if they were? 😎

Have a happy Thanksgiving, holiday, days off of work and stay safe!

NPT: @chaithetics @schnarfer @inept-the-magnificent @yopossum @djarinmuse @604to647 @secretelephanttattoo @magpiepills @maggiemayhemnj @murder-wife @sin-djarin @syd-djarin @morallyinept @westside-rot @tinytinymenace @sunshinehaze1 @soft-girl-musings @goodwithcheese @jolapeno @bluestar22x @clawdee @romanarose @beefrobeefcal @bitchesuntitled @bitchwitch1981