#this is interesting...i take my notes.....

[allhailbuckybarnes]

the love confession

summary: bob can’t stand it. you’re just too fucking pretty. you distract him, you make every horrible, ugly thought dissipate. he craves it. he knows you, and you know him. it feels right, and his feelings are so strong he doesn’t know what to do anymore. he has no idea that you feel the same. that you ache for his comfort, for his feelings to reflect your own.

but a week of strained normalcy, a build up of emotional tension, and a failed mission lead to more than innocent, friendly thoughts. bob’s limits are reached on waiting for the right damn moment.

he has to tell you. you want to tell him. let’s watch each of you try ;)

warnings: fluff/smut, longing, pining, some use of y/n, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, dirty thoughts, tension, body worship, bob is down bad, bob is a MAN, you are just as down bad, yelena is number one supporter, idiots in love, confusion, jealousy, a pinch of angst, just playing: so so much angst, possessive bob, oral sex (m&f receiving), canon-typical violence, reader gets hurt badly (more on that later), bob is not okay, fear, love, please just kiss alr you two

monday (chapter one)

Bob wakes up early this morning. Rolling over to take a drink of water. His first thoughts, as always, are about you. Your hair in the morning, what you were doing, if you had already fixed your coffee. He throws on sweats and a t-shirt, stumbling around so he can see you sooner. A sticky-note on his door read:

“BOB- do not forget, therapy on Mondays and Thursdays at 4:30 pm!! DONT MISS IT AGAIN! - ur fave :)”

He smiles dumbly and walks out, shutting the door behind him. As he enters the common area near the kitchen, he sees you wondering around the cabinets. He smiles, there you are. You looked as if you were about to burn the kitchen to the ground.

“What’s up?” He asks, settling behind you and sitting on the counter.

You groan, slapping your hands to your forehead and running them down your face. “Bobby, I swear to god if Walker eats my cereal again, I’ll cut his dick off and feed it to Yelena’s rat thing,” you grumble.

He laughs out loud, “Oh cmon now, you can’t do that to Yelena’s guinea pig. Besides, I have a secret stash, just for you.” You flip around, gripping his shoulders in a very serious stance, eyeing him. “Bobby. You. Are my hero.” His smile falters slightly at the closeness of your faces. What feels like a minute passes as he stares at your lips. He can just barely feel your breath on his chin. You’re too pretty.

You remove your hands, “well? Lead the way!” He grins again, hopping off the counter and showing you the faulty crack between the fridge and microwave, “tada!" He waves little enthusiastic jazz hands at you, handing you the box. You smile, a big, beautiful smile, and slap his shoulder.

“I’ll have to keep you around I suppose Robert Reynolds.” His name rolls off your lips like sin. He rolls his eyes to mask the tightness in his chest, “sure Y/n, sure.” You mock a pouty face and he laughs.

You giggle and stroll over to the bowls, a pep in your step at the promise of your favorite cereal. Bob had thought of you again, it made your ears and cheeks burn red.

He was always extra thoughtful of you, whether that meant your snacks were always stocked, your dishes were the first he worried about cleaning, or the way your stories always seemed the most interesting to him. You always thought it was just him being mindful of your sensitive feelings.

Little did you know, he was trying to show you everything he felt for you in every glance, action, and gesture. To everyone around you it was obvious. The rest of the team had pools on who would finally have the balls to tell the other first. Neither of you did, it seemed.

~~

Eating your cereal together, you don’t have to say much. Each other’s presence is enough. Bob mindlessly made your coffee just the way you liked it as you prepared the cereal bowls. It was clockwork, it was normal. Some might even say it was domestic.

You relay your plans for the day to Bob, “I need to workout, seriously. Even though I’ve got the same serum you do mr. god, I swear my bones are aching. Also, I was thinking about going to the bookstore, do you want to tag along to either place? I was thinking it’d just be us, almost like a da-…” you cut yourself off, mortified.

You often didn't think as you rambled, always just speaking your mind. It's not like you two hadn't hung out before... but it had always seemed coincidental, the right place at the right time. You had never asked him with the intention you had just now. Or almost asked...

Bob sputtered: did you want to go on a date with him? No, that’s not possible. You just saw him as a friend. His cheeks turned pink. His body felt on fire.

“Wow okay, I’m not offended at all,” you quickly reply at his reaction, taking your bowl to clean it. You frown, goddamn it. I pushed too much. He doesn’t see me like that. Stupid! Your heart pounded in your chest.

“No, wait what? Y/n, of course I want to go with you.” He chases after you, grabbing your wrist, taking the bowl from your hands slowly, and rinsing it. Your lip pulls to the side, “it’s okay if not. I just thought it would be something we would both enjoy. I had a book recommendation lined up and everything, but I didn’t even ask what your plans were, I'm sorry...” Bob put a hand on your shoulder, “hey, you’re starting to sound like me, quit it,” he smiled. “I always want to hang out with you Y/n.”

Your halfway serious grin returned and you punched him in the shoulder. “Then don’t almost spit up next time! You had me worried I overstepped a boundary in our heart warming friendship.”

Not that word again. Both of you cringed in your mind at the thought of just being friends. Neither of you wanted to just be friends. Bob smiled anyway, "You could never overstep. You know that, right?"

Your smile lessened at his tone, and you touched his shoulder again, grazing it with your hand, a serious look on your face. "I know."

It was a silent plea for physical reassurance. You often thought about curling up to Bob, taking your worries and your fears, and letting him take over. He always talked to you first about nightmares, he always held you then, in the quiet of the night. It was always innocent. That was an easy conversation for you to have together, having gone through the same trials. He just got you. You pulled away.

It meant everything to Bob that you touched him.

~~

You were sweaty and tired, training had worn you out. The sparring with John took way too long, so you ran back to your room to shower and change quickly. Stepping in, the hot water washed away all the physical exhaustion, but the mental side never truly went away.

You just simply had too much on your mind. Everything with Bob, constant life-threatening missions, the pressure of the press, your serum trauma. It was always so much to carry.

It would help if you had someone to help you carry it, but the one person you want is your best friend.

You couldn't mess that up, you wouldn't lose Bob. Just the thought of scaring him away by your feelings kept you from telling him the truth.

That you wanted him. That you pictured it, everything with him. From date nights, to lingering touches, to a home, all the way to wrinkles.

You step out, drying yourself off. Maybe one day, when things calm down. When Val isn’t breathing down your neck constantly. When you have more control over your emotions, over your new powers. You would tell him.

Putting on a sweatshirt and shorts, you throw your hair into an easy style, curl your lashes, put a little extra effort into your makeup and jewelry for the ‘date,’ and head down to meet Bobby by the cars.

You take the elevator, staring and dreaming of how to make it known that you like Bob, knowing that you wouldn’t dare. But just his company was enough for know.

Bob is leaning against a Cadillac, waiting for you when you walked up. He looked up from his phone, “Oh hey! Um... Wow, are we only going to the bookstore?” He swallows.

You look down at your outfit, “yeah? I’m only wearing sweats.”

Bob chuckles and runs a nervous hand through his hair, “well, it’s just. You look good—um. You always look good.”

You smile on instinct, blushing hard. “Thank you.” He leans forward enough to brush a stray piece of hair away. Every touch felt electric, wanting, right. You leaned into his touch. A slam of the door behind you both startled you, Bob dropping his hand.

Alexei greeted each of you with a hug, running up and yelling, “EYY! My favorite Avengerz.”

You each pat his back awkwardly and greet him. He grins, “finally going on a date? I told you Bobby, she’s a good one.”

Bobby looked stunned and blushed firmly, staring at his feet. You quickly cover, patting Alexei's shoulder and pulling Bob towards the car, “no, no Alexei, we’re just going out. Thanks for the compliment though.” You would never assume anything. You murmur, "I'm sorry" to Bob as you each get in. He assures you it's okay. You know better.

With a reaction like that from Bob, you felt grounded. Back down to Earth. He didn’t want you like that, he cared about you, but it wasn’t anything more than family- sister and brother. Even thought you dreamed of more, something more like teammates against the world and lovers... you still had him. Robert. That was all that mattered.

Besides, it was impractical.

You understood, it was a dangerous risk to fall.

Each of you stayed silent on the drive to the bookstore. Bob had let Alexei's words get to his head and it was obvious. You had noticed, and spent the entire drive trying to find the right words to comfort him.

When you parked, Bobby went straight for his seatbelt, but you stopped him. "Hey, I know what he said bothered you. But I appreciate you coming anyways."

His eyes squinted and he looked frustrated, "it's just... that's not how I wanted things to go. Not how they should go," he painfully admitted. Your heart winced at his words, of course that isn't how he wanted it, he doesn't want that. Why can't I just accept that.

"Let's just go inside, yeah?" You ask, trying to hide the storm brewing inside your head. He looked at you. For a beat, words you wish each other would say, hung in the space between you. The only thing holding you back was yourselves.

~~

The bookstore was quiet, slow, and steady. Each aisle was littered with old, new, torn, and worn books. You had already found a poetry book on your tbr list and immediately added it to the stack you each had compiled. You would swipe Val's card on your heart's desires any day of the week. She deserved it.

The tattered books you held reminded you of each person on the team.

A pristine covered novel, with poorly hidden rips and markings inside - Walker

A short, honest, and used memoir with a broken spine - Ava

A thick, very beaten book, which you couldn't tell if it'd been well loved or torn apart on purpose - Bucky

A gleaming fiction of a story of glory which ended in disappointment - Alexei

A series book, contained to its beaten holder with its fellow victims who had all been through beatings together, torn apart - Yelena

A hopeful manuscript with dried tears on it's pages, not yet finished - Robert

And you, a soft cover, written over in ink and tears, full of empty meaning, alone.

You needed a drink.

After your selections, you checked out, the cashier seemingly satisfied with the absolute library you were taking home, gave you a free tote to haul them in. You and Bob always shared books, so there was no reason to split them into piles. You would read his margin notes, and add yours nearby.

Bobby seemed off on the ride home. He obviously had something on his mind. You silently willed for the words Alexei had said to roll off his shoulders. The more it bothered him, the more worried you became about your feelings.

They could become a real problem if you didn't shake them. If you couldn't let go of this, then it would effect your work, your safety, his safety. It could not get to that point.

It was time to end your crush on Robert Reynolds.

God you have no idea what you'e doing.

~~

Dinner was good. Yelena made something with pork and stew, her own recipe. It was delicious, but dinner had been ruined for you when Bob turned in extra early, blaming it on his desire to read a new book. Your unhappy attitude had been noticed fairly quickly. But nobody dared say anything.

You retreated to sulk on your own soon after dinner. Passing Bob's door and opening your own, you heard the shower on. You two had to share a bathroom, which connected your suites. Sometimes, it was torture when you'd accidentally almost see him naked.

Lord had the serum been kind to him. His body looked amazing, he was the rugged, but subtle kind of ripped. The freckles across his chest made you want to tear him apart with your lips. His veins, leading down to his long fingers, made you want to be fucked stupid with his hands choking you. It was embarrassing, but it was true.

You laid in bed with a book in your hands, carelessly reading the same lines over and over again, willing your head to focus. But you couldn't, you needed to talk to Bob.

After abandoning the book, you stood, trying to convince yourself to be brave. To face what you felt.

You knock on the door on his side of the bathroom, and after he mumbles, "One sec!" You hear a tumble and a small curse. He finally opens the door a crack after a minute. "Yeah?" He croaks, his hair a mess. He looks sweaty, has he been working out or something?

"I'm sorry if I interrupted, we can talk tomorrow," you quickly whispered, and turn to go. He catches your wrist, "no wait."

His hand was sweaty, almost moist. You looked down at the contact. Bob's adam's apple shifted up and down as he swallowed the tension. "I, I should apologize," he speaks lowly.

"I was so quiet, I had to have made your head spin. I was just thinking about what Alexei said, and I-" You interrupt bringing your hand to his cheek, "I get it, I knew that's what it was."

Bobby's brows furrowed, and his mouth opened to speak, but he hesitated. Why were you avoiding his opinion so much? Had he upset you? Why were you touching his cheek and not fucking kissing him with those lips. He wanted you. You dropped your hand, so he pulled you in for a hug. God this is too friendly, you both thought.

"Listen, if I hurt you by my reaction it was not meant. You know that I care... about you." He whispered, his lips barely grazing your hair. When had you changed the scent of your shampoo? It was incredible. Fuuuuuck.

You didn't dare meet his eyes, keeping your face buried in your friend's neck. But a soft hand guided your chin, tilting you up to meet his eyes. "You get some sleep, and we'll figure it all out tomorrow, mkay?" He strains. Your touch was too much after his previous activites. His cock was gonna burst. You nod, slowly, and your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second.

That split second made Bob so hard it hurt. He brushed a piece of hair back behind your ear, and you silently retreated to your room, stunned and wet as hell.

Each of you laid in bed, restless, thinking the same thoughts.

What the fuck.

I want her

I'd fuck him right now

Maybe tomorrow. But for now, you each needed sleep.

Bobby dreamt of your new shampoo and you mouth around his cock. You dreamt of his hands around your throat again, and a wrap-around porch with his hand in yours, reading books.

For now, you were each content.

[likelysobbing]

relationship w juju hcs!! plss we’re in drought:(( specially reader doesn’t play any sports lmaoo we unathletic out here

𖥻 LOOK AT ME. juju watkins x unathletic!fan!reader

reblogs + comments appreciated more than likes.

synopsis: juju dating headcanons … but the twist is that you? play absolutely no sports. you’re clueless, even… until she comes to your rescue.

notes: IF ANYONE COMES AT ME FOR HOW THE READER HERE IS CLUELESS ABOUT SPORTS + UNATHLETIC… DON’T. I GENUINELY DID NOT KNOW HOW TO PUT THE REST OF MY THOUGHTS ON THE SCREEN UNTIL I MADE READER CLUELESS ABOUT SPORTS. i just be putting readers into situations fr… i hope you guys like this situation though!! also hi nonnieee, i feel like everyones saying theres a juju drought lately 😭 i hope this satiates your cravings! i’ve always adored juju’s eyes, so i hope y’all understand why i center the fact juju wants you to look at her so much lol i would kill to look into that womans eyes

cw: reader is clueless about sports and only meets juju out of luck, jealous!juju, this goes from first meeting -> how you guys got close -> when you realized you were inlove with eachother -> the confession and how it happened -> ACTUAL dating headcanons, and there’s a bunch of scenarios sprinkled inbetween these headcanons i would say so just a little treat for my juju girls, juju is lowkey possessive

you were never really into sports. like sure, there was MAJOR eye candy, but other than that you found no other reason to be interested in the art of athletics. you respected it enough to commend it, but not to attend it. atleast that’s what you initially thought.

then, your friend told you she had extra courtside tickets to a homegame, and you— already dreaming of seeing juju watkins up close—seized the opportunity immediately. truth be told you did not know shit about basketball, all you knew was that juju was good at it and also you’d be too scared to approach her in any other situation! so why not take this chance to admire her from afar, but even closer (and still without her knowing you exist!)?

when you arrived to the game, you sat courtside with your friend, she bullied you for only agreeing to come because juju was hot and you—emboldened by the fact that juju wasn’t near to hear you say it, outright said: “okay, so i’m only here for juju—whatever! i don’t need to know how the game works to know that she’s gonna look pretty doing… whatever she does.” you trail off.

and then you looked to your right, and saw juju looking straight at you, having heard all you fucking said while you sat there like an idiot who just said it. she raised an eyebrow teasingly, while your friend just looked at you in shock, because no way you just said that infront of juju watkins? juju, meanwhile, was just minding her business.

that entire game you were cheering for juju. like to the point it was embarrassing. especially because she knew you did not know what the fuck she was doing, only that she was winning. like, obviously she appreciated you cheering, but she didn’t appreciate you being clueless—so after the win, when you came up to her, peer pressured by your friend despite knowing you were going to be quietly publicly humiliated, she had things to say.

you come to her when the crowd quiets down, and there’s only a few notable faces left.

“hi,” you say, simple yet none the less absolutely humbling. you looked up at her as she looked down at you, face unreadable as you continued—or tried to—speak. “…may i please get a photo?”

realistically speaking, juju won’t say no to you— you’re a fan. you’re right about that hunch because she smiles and poses for a photo, her pretty smile on display. what you don’t predict?

“you real bold. talking all that. coming to a basketball game just cause you think i’m pretty… doin’ whatever i do? did you know i was there?” she asked, barely holding in a laugh (one you didn’t know was well-meaning, or mean spirited), uncapping her sharpie as she took your phonecase you shyly handed over to sign. you froze. you got put on the spot and you froze. judea skies watkins… put you on the spot… and you froze.

you needed to speak right now. she is staring at you like you are a freak (not in that way, which is even worse). you need to speak, like actually, right now.

“yes, maybe you would offer to teach me.” whattheFUCKwhathefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckNONONONONOwhattheFUCKwhatthefuck—juju’s eyes widen for a split second, before she laughs it off and bids you farewell with a ‘we’ll see!’ when you know for a fact that you will NOT see because you are NEVER going to put yourself into the same room as her ever again.

#1 loser award goes to…

JKJKJK ILY GUYS. but after that i don’t think you’d be keen on seeing juju again.

so you try to move on with your life! over these next few days, you try. you really do. you even contemplate unfollowing juju.

you open her profile on your phone, your eyes land on the following button and you’re about to click— until you get a notif.

@jujubballin has requested to follow you!

you nearly fell out of your chair i’m telling you girl but you ACCEPT ANYWAY, right? okay, so you’re mutuals with the judea skies watkins… and what do you do?

absolutely fucking nothing.

you don’t text her at all. you don’t try to ask why she followed you. you just sit with the fact that she did and that at most all it would be would be something to brag about. you did not want to take more than you could—didn’t want to expect something randomly blossoming, didn’t want to expect anything.

so you did nothing.

but she? she did something.

OH NAHH WHAT IS THATTTT

juju dmed you first, and outright flirted with you. that’s how you two began. like it was literally that simple. she genuinely offered to meet up with you and teach you about basketball, and you genuinely took that invitation. you hosted her back at your dorm, and while she explained basic basketball rules to you, you did your best to listen intently without freaking out over the fact there was a famous person in your bed teaching you about what they were fucking famous for.

the first few meetings were solely basketball, until...

“yeah, that would be a foul, but most refs miss it because it’s usually so subtle and if i’m being honest… no ref ever really cares that much about their job.” juju murmured, her legs dangling on the floor of your dorm as she pointed out little details in past games of hers— you were seated, criss-cross, right next to her. thigh-to-thigh. she poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue as she scanned throughout the footage, scouring for more to point out.

you were just staring at her.

“your glasses are falling.” you pointed something out this time, a sly smile on your face as you successfully snapped her out of her trance.

“shit, they are? oh, yeah—”

“are they prescribed? or blue light?” you ask, tilting your head. juju answers, and then you bounce back and forth. continously. unintentionally.

and suddenly, juju’s laptop is closed, and you're face to face.

that’s when it fucking starts im telling you its always LIKE THAT CHAT you say something that steers the both of you away from what you said you’d both do and suddenly you find that you have more in common than you initially realized and outside of the bounds of fan and celebrity, you click. you click as friends.

she starts telling you about basketball instead of just teaching you, and you somehow learn easier that way—when she’s teaching you over brunch instead of over the bright screen of a laptop, and you both have the freedom to smile because it’s not really instructional anymore. it’s just… normal friend things.

normal friend things.

you’re learning.

you’re learning quicker than ever, over just her passionate little rambles rather than the professional type of curriculum she originally put you through trying to act like a professional coach knowing she didn’t have a future in coaching. you’re learning, and you’re using actual basketball words (as you said yourself), and you’re using them correctly. you’re aware. you can watch basketball games and know what’s going on. you cheer when she cheers without having to look at her face.

she wishes you’d look at her longer, though.

it’s a really odd feeling, whatever’s sprouting in her chest. she wants you to look at her, but she can’t look at you for long or she’ll get shy. like dead-ass, real shy.

she’s meant to be paying attention to the game you’re both watching right now, but she’s only really looking at you—“that’s a foul, isn’t it?”

her heart beats a bit faster. “what is?”

“this.” you murmur, leaning in to replay the footage. you point at two of the players, “that’s a moving screen right? you mentioned it back when we hung out that one time at... hold on, i forgot, wait–”

she looks at where you pointed, and lo-and-behold— you’re correct. that is a foul. you actually learned.

that was when she realized she liked you—when she realized you paid attention. to her, not to her accolades or her skill—just to her.

you realized you liked juju when you noticed how quiet you were about her. you didn’t gloat about how you randomly had juju follow you back, nor did you brag that you knew her at all. you admired juju quietly. you liked her so much you couldn’t speak without choking on your words.

and yet, for a good while, neither of you did anything. there were moments: brushes of your fingers against eachother, looks that lingered far too long, and hoodies she gave you because ‘you get cold too easily’. hoodies you never gave back.

you were both pining. severely. like so much that it hurt other people, RANDOM PEOPLE WHO JUST HAPPENED TO PAST BY YOU TWO ONCE, even seeing you two hovering over eachother.

yet you both didn’t do anything. you didn’t know how to bring it up without breaking what you had, and neither did juju, because you both knew the risks pursuing a relationship— juju had a fleshed out career, and you were an average college student who she, somehow, got entangled with.

so you both bottled it up— until that small little candle light turned into a raging fire. love.

until it was pure, unadulterated love.

and love? that’s not something you can bottle up for long.

she was just some girl, in like one of your classes, who just happened to be at the game. you swore. she saw you sitting alone and decided to take the spot to your left, before looking to her right—right at you. she said she knew you, struck up a conversation, and all that good stuff.

juju saw it. she even heard you guys, albeit a bit muffled—you were talking about homework—but what really bothered her was how close she was. thigh to thigh, like you two usually are. she pretends not to be alarmed.

and then you don’t even look at her before tip off, because apparently some girl is more important than her, which isn’t true, and she knows this, because she’s juju watkins. you should be looking at her, right? so why aren’t you looking at her?

you’re doing those sweet little gestures again. with her. using your hands to talk, laughing at something she said that probably wasn’t even that funny, and suddenly juju’s mind is foggy. that’s not good. especially not before a game. but it’s not foggy because of you and that stupid girl, right? obviously not. why would it be? you’re just friends. friends who look at eachother too long. friends who sit too close and don’t scooch away. just. friends.

friends.

juju looks to where you’re sat in the stands during halftime. you don’t look back. you’re too busy continuing whatever fuckass conversation you’re having with that girl.

juju should not fucking care right now.

she has so many eyes on her already, but they don’t see her like yours do.

you should be looking right at her.

but you don’t.

you come to her after the game— another win, as expected. you pat her shoulder and grin and she looks down at you. “who was she?” she asks, and you tilt your head. “that girl? oh, just some girl.”

“some girl?” she repeats. “she didn’t need your eyes all up on her then.”

she backs you up into a wall, and you blink. by now, juju’s sizzling—she’s tired, she’s mad, she’s frighteningly jealous—and you haven’t made any moves on eachother. so juju decides, fuck it, let this be the first one.

“i don’t like it,” she murmurs, “when you look at anyone else like that. like you look at me.”

and surprisingly, you laugh, less fearful than she anticipated, “juju.” you say her name so sweet, she can’t help but close her eyes and sigh in relief because that’s good— that’s great.

“juju,” you repeat, “i could look at you forever.”

the confession isn’t necessarily a confession. there is no official i love you. but there’s obviously a shift.

juju walks you to your now empty dorm (your roommate slept over at her boyfriend’s) that night. when you open the door, you turn to her. she’s staring straight at you. she doesn’t look away.

“you mine?” she asks, simple and sweet. and so, so soft.

“always been,” you respond, easily.

you don’t sleep alone that night.

OKAY THATS DONE LETS GET TO DATING HEADCANONS NOW

juju is like the cutest girlfriend ilovehersomuchshessocute

ok first things first thank the lord you bagged judea fucking watkins hello

at the start of the relationship, it’s the same old thing with just a touch more intimacy knowing that you guys are together—she touches you more, she’s more open, but she doesn’t outright go into spoiling you or treating you like a queen.

this sort of.. phase, lasts for a good few weeks as you accustom yourself to what you usually have to do when you date an renowned athlete with multiple NIL deals: which is, increase privacy.

juju would keep the relationship private out of respect for you and out of the need to preserve her career; she doesn’t want you to be upheld to the same standards she is, so she makes sure the public’s eyes don’t stray away from her.

once you get past that phase though? once you get used to that privacy?

lover girl. like im serious. this girl is DOWNNN and she does not want to get up. juju seems like the type of person to be shy but at the same time shameless in her love for you.

she’s more of an introvert, so most days are spent inside bonding over whatever and tangling your legs together. you don’t need any more entertainment other than her stories and both of yours’ laughter. half the time you lowkey die laughing, the other half you’re getting real with eachother with no judgement at all.

when i say she’s shy, she’s shy. you compliment her and suddenly she gets really soft, she gets really flustered and she even hides her face using her hoodie—burrows into the chair if your compliment gets her that much. she likes looking at you when you aren’t looking at her because the eye contact with you makes her nervous and she’s really not trying to be nervous. she wants to admire her lady in peace!

she’s not protective so to say, but she is cautious. she won’t put you on a leash but she’ll place a hand on your shoulder. she doesn’t restrict you but she does ensure that you know what you’re getting into ; she expects updates being sent to her whenever you’re gone. they don’t have to be that often, but if she texts you and you don’t respond within the day? she’s checking you.

she’s very physically affectionate. she likes having her hands on you—you’re just so, so soft! she loves laying on your stomach most of all. i feel that she’d also compare hand sizes with you. she eats the fact that you’re shorter than her UP.

“wait, wait—” juju grinned, raising her hand up. you blinked, before giving her a high five.

“no, genius! that’s not what i meant!” she laughed, taking your hand again and placing it flat against her own. by then, you realized what she was doing and you sighed.

“again, ju?”

“yes, again. look—look! i think you got smaller.”

“i did not.”

“you’ll always be shorter than me though.”

when it comes to who pays, juju doesn’t mind paying all the time but obviously you don’t let her do that. you treat her, especially when she has her off days, and she always feels a little lighter knowing you’re in her corner. juju doesn’t like saying it, but she likes to know that she has someone she can rely on.

she does spoil you though. like don’t get her wrong. it’s not designer shit, but what is designer worth if it’s not from the heart—juju’s gifts? thought over multiple times to make sure they’re perfect. she always gets you gifts she thinks hard about because she doesn’t want you just loving the gift because she gave it, she wants you loving the gift because you love it.

she’s also a complete baby—but she’s your baby so you can not be complaining. as i said, she’s very physically affectionate, and she’s a very cuddly person. whenever you have to get up she has such a visible frown on her face:( she’s like this ☹️

when it comes to endearments, juju definitely calls you “mama” or “ma” . like that is the most judea endearment i’ve ever heard. she also refers to you as ‘her woman’ to other people, but there’s also “baby,” and “babe”. when it comes to what she likes to be called, i feel like hearing her full name come from your lips always gets her— so you’d call her judea, or juju, but other than that she adores being called “love”. it makes her smile big!!

she doesn’t point at you when she scores but she does go to your side of the stands like “y’all see that? more importantly, did YOU see that?” because this girl does not want to deal with the embarrassment of pointing at you and MISSING

your relationship is private. it’s secret. literally only the fans who dig know about it—but to juju’s teammates? to anyone close to her? juju isn’t vocal about it, but they know how much you’ve softened her. juju doesn’t need to speak to show people she loves you, not when the fact she greets you with such a wild smile is already enough.

it’s you two. it’s always going to be you two, no matter what the world says. the fact that juju is confident in this, is confident in you— is already enough.

@likelysobbing.

[gurugirl]

[5] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST | It's Good to Be King Masterlist

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 5 Word Count: 8,476

Ch. 5 Warning: Discrimination, bullying, slight angst and miscommunication, jealousy, hurt feelings, wedding scene -> smut will be in ch. 6, for those anticipating it

. .

The Duke remained quiet and sat in the comfortable feather-down cushioned chair near the fire as he watched Harry and Virgil go back and forth. He'd been meant to mediate the discussion, but Harry overrode that decision and told him to sit before he was removed from the castle. The king didn't need someone there to arbitrate anything. Harry would be the one with the final say, no matter what the Duke's opinion.

It started, on the surface, amicably. But quickly spiraled when Virgil told him he'd regret his choices as king (stripping the Lord Mayor of his title for one, and marrying Y/n for another). Harry'd expected to hear the Lord Mayor bemoan his decisions again. It was no surprise to him, but it was quite galling to listen once again to the same justifications.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "And I thought you came here to accuse me of theft. You are a sad, tiresome man, Virgil. I'm bored listening to this drivel."

Niall watched from the door, letting his eyes rove the three gentlemen slowly. He was only there to protect Harry, should he have needed to. But more than that, he found their little tiff to be quite amusing, though he'd never let on to it.

The Lord Mayor continued, dismissing Harry's comments. "And furthermore, it's clear to everyone that you do not have Thornekeep's best interest in mind. Marrying a gutter-waif? Setting her up in the castle like she's been bred for the crown? Why… It's preposterous!"

Harry bristled at gutter-waif, but decided to hold his tongue (and his anger) in front of the Duke. "Bred for the crown? What are you? A husbandry worker now? You breed animals and ready them for royalty?"

A quiet breath fell from the Duke as he turned his head away from the pair arguing. Even he was amused.

A sputtered noise of disbelief fell from the Lord Mayor as he shook his head. "Quite vulgar! Once again!"

The king laughed sardonically and stepped around the edge of the table, glancing at Niall as he ticked his fingers, tapping his nails together slowly. "Are we done here?"

"Before we make our leave, I want to discuss the young woman again. Pearl."

"And what would you like to tell me about the young woman with whom you are infatuated?"

"Your Highness! I am not infatuated!" Virgil pushed himself up from the chair and stepped near to Harry, but not close enough that the king could get his hands on him. "I'm trying to offer you a better choice of wife. Pearl will not disappoint you. She is happy to serve you as a good wife and queen should, and she learns quickly. She will see to it that you are well taken care of."

"I do not want Pearl. I've already made my choice. If you want her so badly, you can have her. Your wife seems quite meek. She wouldn't mind you taking a lover, I'm sure. Most men of your ilk do."

Virgil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, ignoring how Harry had once again suggested that he wanted Pearl for himself. "My Lord, we can attest to and confirm that Pearl is a virgin, which is required of the queen consort. I have my doubts that Y/n is pure and virginal."

Harry laughed darkly, without a single drop of humor. "I suggest you make your leave before I become violent with you. My future wife is not up for discussion. I will not have you speak her name again."

"Then a mistress! Pearl would make a lovely mistress for you. She's fine to take on the role as long as you keep her and take care of her and her family in return."

Clenching his jaw, he shook his head and looked at the Duke. "Is he deaf? Dumb? Were you able to understand my orders just now, or am I the mad one here?"

"My Lord, I understood well your desires," the Duke said, not daring to look the Lord Mayor in the eye as he sided with the king.

"You cannot expect to be satisfied with just one woman. Surely you have plans in place to accommodate a mistress, if you haven't already," the Lord Mayor added.

Harry sighed and looked toward Niall again before stepping closer to the old man. "I think I can infer what's going on here. You and Mrs. Mable were quite close at one time, weren't you? The rumors were true then. She was your house-fed lamb, and you're a bedswerver. Your poor wife. Is Mrs. Mable threatening to let the cat out of the bag if you don't secure her virgin daughter a place in the castle?"

Virgil's mouth dropped open as his eyes nearly bulged from his head. "I… Why that's not even—"

The king moved closer, and the old man backed up to keep his distance. "That is what this is all about, isn't it? Most would wonder if Pearl was your daughter and not Mr. Mable's, but I'm convinced you're all dried up, impotent. And you, being like every other fleece-monger in Thornekeep, took Mrs. Mable as your secret, fancy piece."

"This is outrageous! I take umbrage at your accusations!"

Calmly, Harry looked at the Duke with a pleased grin. "Our old billygoat here takes umbrage. What do you say to that, Duke?"

Duke Hughes looked from the King to the Lord Mayor and stood up from his seat. "I say that it's time for us to make our leave."

"Now that is a smart answer. You could learn a lot from the Duke, Virgil."

"Just one meeting with Pearl, my Lord. She is ready to serve and would make a beautiful Queen, if not a kept mistress…"

"I said, get out! I'm quite finished with you, worm. Niall, remove him from the lounge…"

The old man raised his hands in surrender as Niall stepped forward. "We're leaving. No need for intervention. But please, consider meeting with the girl once. You will not be disappointed."

The dress was exquisite. Y/n glanced at Phoebe, who had covered her mouth with her hands after seeing all the pieces put together. She grinned at her friend and looked back at her reflection and couldn't help but focus on the young woman who Mrs. Mable had brought along for the final fitting. She had not been introduced to her, but Y/n could see that the girl was dissatisfied and annoyed.

"It's a shame this wedding and everything to do with the king's selection was rushed," the dressmaker said as she pulled at the fabric and tightened the bust, making Y/n gasp.

"Mama… When can I meet King Styles? I'm bored, and the stench in here is unbearable."

The young woman looked directly at Y/n as she mentioned the stench but Y/n was more worried about the girl's request to see the king. She'd become accustomed to insinuitive remarks and had learned to brush them off. But she did not like the idea of this pretty, young, blonde asking about her husband-to-be.

"Soon. He's been summoned. I imagine he'll be coming in any minute."

Y/n quickly grabbed her skirts and lifted them as she stepped down from the platform and looked at Phoebe. "He can't come in here! I'm in my bridal gown. It's bad luck—"

"It won't matter anyway. There's nothing customary about any of this. No one is so deceived as to think you're a virgin anyway…"

"It's so vulgar to think of it!" The pretty blonde said as she stood up and stepped in front of the mirror, smoothing out the silk panel in her dress. "The king deserves purity and beauty above all."

"Who is this? Why is she here? What business has she with the king?" Y/n pointed at the blonde as she stepped in behind her.

"There's the stench," Pearl said as she turned to look at Y/n, a smug expression drawn on her face.

Just then, the door opened and Harry barreled in with Niall and his assistant Fred trailing behind him. "Y/n… Is—what is this?"

He looked at Pearl, her mother, and the other women in the room, his brows pinched together dubiously. Y/n tried to hide the fabric of her skirts and duck behind a wooden table, but it had all been too late. He'd seen her gown.

"This is my dress fitting. You're not supposed to see me like this!" Y/n was almost in tears, and she knew it was a trivial thing to be so worked up over, but she had envisioned the surprised look on his face when she walked down the aisle toward the altar. She'd been so excited for that moment, and now that would be taken from her. He'd already seen her beautiful dress and it would no longer be a surprise.

Harry let his eyes sweep over her gown and back up to her face. "I was told that I was needed urgently. Who sent for me?"

The room fell quiet as Y/n narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Mable and then Pearl. "They did." She pointed. "I heard her tell this one that you'd been summoned but I did not call for you."

Harry could see the dismay on her face. To him, it was all the same. It didn't matter if he saw the dress now or on the day of their ceremony. But it was clear that it meant a lot more to Y/n and so for that he was livid.

"You're the dressmaker. Mrs. Mable…" Harry said and then he set his eyes on the pretty young blonde who was blushing softly and lowering her gaze in respect. "And you must be Pearl. Virgil has spoken highly of you, but unfortunately, you're wasting your time here."

Mrs. Mable rushed toward Harry and pointed at her daughter. "She is ready, Your Highness. She's been trained for this and she will do anything you ask of her. Give her a chance. You may take her into your chambers if you'd like to make a more informed choice."

Harry sniffed and looked at Y/n before he shot a look of disdain at Mrs. Mable. "Are you dull in the head? Your conniving with the Lord Mayor is pathetic. I know what you two have done and I care not if you expose him and yourself for the bedswervers you are. But do not pull my bride-to-be into this ratbag scheme."

"Is she not more lovely, not more fit to your tastes and to the kingdom's? You will require a virgin—"

"Pish! You and Virgil seem to think I hold virgins in high regard when that is the least of my concerns. Take her away. I don't wish to look at your daughter or to have her near Y/n. I can tell by just a glance that she's jealous."

Pearl let out a frustrated laugh. "I would never be jealous of her! She's akin to the filthy swine at the entry of the rookeries from where she came!"

Harry calmly stepped in front of the blonde, a rage boiling beneath the surface that he had to tame. She had to crane her neck back to look up at him. "I pity people like you," he said in a dark, spiteful tone. "Wrapped up in silk with pink lace bows and a turned-up nose. You haven't a single original thought in that tiny brain of yours and that's the most unattractive thing about you. Moreover, I can't find a solitary redeeming quality that you possess. I do not find you to be pretty. On the contrary… Your face is too wide and pasty, your wrists like a hollowed sprig, and your eyes are set too close, reminiscent of those fat bugs that like to feed off dung in the farmyards. I would never take you as my wife, much less a mistress. You are no better than anyone in this room, and you never will be."

Pearl stepped back and turned her face downward as tears threatened to burst from her eyes. Y/n felt a spike of satisfaction course up the knobs of her spine. She had been blind sided by their little trick to get the king to walk into her room for her fitting, so to hear Harry speak his mind to the young girl in that way had her holding her head a little higher, despite the devastation she felt at him seeing her dress before he was meant to.

"You bootjack! Do not speak to my daughter that way!" Mrs. Mable wrapped her arms around Pearl protectively.

Harry laughed. "Brave soul you are to mock the king and your queen-to-be. What did you expect of this disgraceful, desperate exhibit? That I'd look at her…" He gestured toward Pearl, who still had her face downcast. "And find myself smitten by her pastel garments and curled locks? She is nothing more than the dressmaker's daughter. She does not interest me in the least."

Mrs. Mable scoffed and looked at Y/n, Phoebe next to her, holding her arm. "She's a regular street beggar turned flag-hopper. Who knows how many men she's done the business with and if you want to marry into that kind of rubbish, then you dishonor your father's legacy. You are an embarrassment to the kingdom."

Letting his eyes flicker over his bride-to-be, he clenched his jaw. "If you were a man I'd have you tossed from the window down to your painful demise for speaking that way about her. Does she look rubbish to you? And who do you see standing before you as King? Not my father. He's dead, buried in the ground where he belongs."

One of the seamstresses gasped and turned away quickly in surprise at Harry's rough words for the beloved, deceased King Augustus. He shook his head and pointed toward the door. "Niall, take Mrs. Mable and her daughter down to the study and wait with them until I arrive. The rest of you are dismissed. Phoebe, you may stay with Y/n and help her out of this dress."

Niall motioned to the pair and Mrs. Mable scowled at the king on her way out of the room. Pearl kept her head down in shame with cheeks wetted by tears. Y/n watched with cautious delight, her eyes shifting from Mrs. Mable and Pearl, and then the workers as they all filed out of the Rose Room.

Then, before she even realized he'd made his way to her side, she felt his hand wrap around hers, and she turned to look up at him. "We'll have a new dress made for you. A better one. You will never have to see Mrs. Mable and her insufferable, hideous daughter ever again." He thumbed at her cheek as she nodded, a small smile working up on her lips.

"But the wedding is in two days. I don't know that that's possible. There is no better dressmaker in the kingdom than Mrs. Mable."

"I will find you a better dressmaker even if I have to bring them in from another province. Fred," Harry said, his sight still on his bride-to-be, "go find Luther and have him send for that Parisian man in Bethel. Find out who he uses and have them brought here at any cost."

The door closed behind Fred, and Phoebe stood to the side, watching as Harry and Y/n stared at one another. "You are not upset by them, are you?"

She blinked and looked toward the door. "I'm unsure how I feel. I found Pearl to be very pretty, and I imagined you would like the looks of her." She turned her gaze back to him. "Is it true you find her to be hideous?"

Harry continued running his thumb along her cheek as he lifted his other hand to the opposite side of her face. "Compared to you? She's repulsive and boring."

"But you wouldn't even take her as your mistress?"

"I won't be taking a mistress."

Y/n shook her head. "Isn't it customary for the king to have mistresses to keep him satisfied? What if I cannot make you happy?"

"Do not worry about that, little mouse. Now, I need to go and sort out the hatchet-faced sows who await me."

She giggled quietly as he stepped away from her, a cheeky grin on his face.

The moment he closed the door, Phoebe stepped in behind her and began helping her untie the corset. "She's not pretty. Not at all."

"Who? Pearl? I believe she was very pretty."

"Her attitude was ugly. I can't believe he compared her to a dung bug!"

The girls laughed together. "I wonder what he's going to say to them in his study."

"He's already love-stricken. It's so romantic," Phoebe said as she laid the corset down on the dressing table.

"Love-stricken? I don't believe so."

"Oh, but he is. I have a secret. Something I've wanted to say but didn't know if I should… But now I can't hold it in any longer…"

Y/n looked at Phoebe. "Well, what is it?"

"He's telling you the truth that he doesn't want a lover. I overheard him with his assistant and the castle steward telling them to clear the room that was meant to be kept for a mistress, but he didn't want it. He had changed his mind. Mr. Fred told him to leave it just in case, but the King insisted they give the room another use. He said it was no longer necessary, and I think it's because he can't imagine having anyone but you."

Y/n smiled and looked toward the window as her heart thumped in her chest. It was becoming quite common for her heart to patter harder every time she thought about Harry. He made her skin heat and her fingertips tingle. And she even indulged in touching herself as she imagined his eyes and his lips and his fingers… She knew her feelings about him were different than anything she'd felt before.

She had never belonged anywhere before, begging in alleyways, sleeping on the floor in her family's cramped tenement, ignored by carriages that splashed muddy water on her skirts. And now, she stood in there in castle with a little more meat on her bones and a relaxed smile on her face. The king had not only chosen her but defended her with the kind of fury only true feelings could ignite. Her feelings of being an impostor still bubbled to the surface at times, but she couldn't deny that Harry soothed the rising simmer with each passing day.

When the new dressmaker, Eugène Louise Lafitte, arrived the following evening, he had brought with him a whole caravan of helpers. Three covered carts filled with dresses, designs, supplies, and materials; two hairdressers, three seamstresses, a milliner, and two of his own assistants; as well as all of his personal belongings, as he was going to replace Mrs. Mable as the official royal dressmaker.

Y/n found the whole ordeal to be chaotic, but if she insisted on a new gown (she didn't really), then this was the only way. Eugène had set up everything in the Rose Room, and he began to measure and fit her right away. And despite the fact that there were a dozen people milling about in the room, jumping at every command Eugène spat, she found this fitting to be much better than with Mrs. Mable. For one, he never "accidentally" poked her with the pins the way Mrs. Mable had. For another, he treated her with appropriate respect. As if she were the queen already.

"Bring me the white silk Lanvin bodice…" Eugène said as he waved an arm toward his assistant, his other hand clutched at the middle of Y/n's back as he held fabric in place, and then snapped his fingers. "And check the third trunk for the custom silk skirt with cream lace. And those silk flourettes I've got in my leather satchel. I need them here."

And it went like that until Y/n could barely hold her eyes open. The buzz in the room continued for hours until Eugène was pleased with the look. Of course, he checked in with Y/n, often asking her opinion, of which she had none.

It embarrassed her, in a way, that she had no clue about what looked pretty and what did not. She didn't know fashion, but she did love the little silk flowers that were pinned along her outer skirt between bunched lace and smooth satin. The dress was lovely, Y/n could tell that much. And the finished product (which needed to be ready by midday) would be stunning. It would be paired with the original Turkish diamond necklace she'd been gifted and the finished veil that Mrs. Mable had made.

"Now, you rest," Eugène said to Y/n after Phoebe had helped her out of the delicate material and tucked a robe around her chemise. "The most important part of any outfit is the person wearing it and her disposition. Your beautiful smile will be the star of the ceremony, and you need your sleep. I will take care of the rest for you, madam. Leave the stress to me."

She paused and squinted at the odd man (he was quite odd, but she rather liked him). She wasn't sure if he'd said leave this dress to me, or leave the stress to me… Either way, she was too exhausted to think of much else than her comfortable bed as all of the workers left the room and Phoebe tucked her in and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight, Queen." Phoebe smiled.

Y/n fluttered her eyes closed with a small, quiet laugh and whispered tiredly, "I'm not Queen yet."

"You are to me."

Despite the pre-wedding spiky nerves Harry was feeling, he was pleased and maybe even a little excited. The ceremony was only a couple of hours away and the castle was abuzz with activity all over. His suit was ready. He'd hidden in his study in hopes of a bit of peace and quiet before the doctor had forced his way in and begun talking nonsense.

"She has not yet had her physical examination, My Lord. It would require, at minimum, a quick and simple two-finger test, which is very run-of-the-mill."

Harry pinched his brows together and nodded with a sneer, his leg draped over his knee as he listened to the castle doctor. Sucking at his teeth he narrowed his gaze. "That will not be happening."

"Excuse me?" The doctor looked surprised.

"I said… That .. will not .. be happening."

"I don't understand. It's customary to check that the bride of the king is a virgin. How will we determine her virginal status if she doesn't have an examination?"

"I am sorry you're confused, but I believe I made myself clear. She will not be needing an examination. She's already told me she's a virgin." Not that it mattered to him in the first place.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies, My Lord, but how do you know she's telling you the truth? That is why we have protocol for this kind of thing. We cannot trust her to be honest about that. Of course, she'd tell you she's a virgin in order to procure her spot as Queen."

Harry sighed and placed his foot down on the floor, as if her were about to stand, his posture only slightly threatening as he leaned forward and kept his eyes hard on the doctor. "When I first picked her, I sought a woman who was not a virgin on purpose. I had hoped to enjoy some wick-dipping with her right off, but she was quite unsettled by the idea, worried about God and purity and all that. She's a virgin."

"My Lord, this is a—"

"This is a discussion that has come to an end. I won't hear of it anymore. You may take your leave. I'm busy. If you hadn't already realized it, I'm getting married today. I don't have time for your nonsense."

The doctor seemed rather vexed but he left the king's study without another word. Harry understood the usual traditions. He knew that it was expected that Y/n be a virgin. He was also not under any illusion that the people would demand proof and want to see their bedsheets the following morning to check for her blood.

He shook his head and gulped down the last of his gin. He hadn't even wanted a virgin. Mostly for selfish reasons but also because he'd never been with a virgin before. The very first time he saw her up close outside the castle gates, he found her features to be very pleasing and he made the mistake of assuming she was not a virgin. Though even after learning she was, he didn't regret his choice after getting acquainted with her.

He smiled as he stood from the chair. That's what she did to him when he thought of her. She made him smile. The kind of drowsy, sappy smile that told the world he was done for.

He wished he could see her right then. Ask her how she was doing, make sure she was being treated well… and perhaps to soothe his own nerves as well. What if she ran off? What if the foul treatment she'd been subjected to had finally gotten to her and she was on the run? Not many would stop her from running because they didn't like her anyway.

With a heavy sigh, he looked out the window to find the day overcast in soft pewters, clouds hanging low as if reluctant to bear witness to the scandal of the century. He was looking forward to making Y/n the Queen, but even more than that, he was looking forward to having her as his wife.

Y/n tried to stop the tears from escaping her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror, the final product of her hair, the dress, her jewelry... The gown was even more luxurious than the previous. It had a fuller silk skirt with ribbons of cream lace and soft pink, green, and yellow satin flowers delicately sewn in. The bodice gave everything structure and form at the top, and the thin lace sleeves fitted over her arms like a second skin.

She grazed her fingers over the diamond necklace and inhaled a wobbly breath. "I can't believe it. I've never seen anything so beautiful."

Eugène stood behind her with a smile on his face. "I've never seen a more beautiful bride. You wear this dress well, my dear. I know it's not in keeping with tradition but I've been told that you and Harry are not a traditional royal couple. I hope it's just scandalous enough to make everyone turn heads and talk. If anyone can pull this off, it's you."

"And all in less than 12 hours! It's magnificent!" Pheobe exclaimed.

"Thank you, sir. I didn't believe it would be possible, but you've proven me wrong. I'm overwhelmed with happiness."

"Then I've done my job. Now, I believe your carriage awaits to bring you to the cathedral. I will be riding with you and your family, should anything come loose and need fastening."

.

The bells of Thornekeep Cathedral tolled with a heavy, ceremonial rhythm, each echo rolling over the gray-tipped rooftops of the town center like a reluctant proclamation. Inside, sunlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows, coloring the polished stone floor with fragments of ruby, emerald, and sapphire light. It was beautiful, solemn, and grand.

The nave was lined with nobles, foreign dignitaries, and members of the peerage, each clad in their finest silks, lace, and tailored uniforms. Rows of powdered wigs and jeweled collars bobbed stiffly above tight lips and narrowed eyes. They did not applaud. They did not smile. But they did watch carefully. Judging as if they were qualified.

A hush settled as the great organ began to play, a stately, thunderous processional. In the vestibule, Y/n stood just beyond the threshold, her hands trembling against the folds of her gown. The dress was nothing like the ones she used to imagine when watching brides pass in the street. It was better. Phoebe stood at her side, fussing with the long veil that trailed like mist behind her, whispering encouragement.

“You look divine,” Phoebe said, adjusting the fabric atop Y/n’s head. “Now, chin up. If they’re going to hate you, let them hate a queen, not a beggar.”

At the front of the cathedral, King Harry stood waiting beneath the high stone arch of the altar, dressed in a black frock coat with gold embroidery along the cuffs and collar. His ceremonial sword hung from his hip—a nod to tradition he’d allowed begrudgingly—but his cravat was loosened ever so slightly in subtle rebellion. Fred stood just behind him, rigid as he watched on.

Harry’s expression, however, was anything but restrained. He grinned brightly when he saw her appear at the end of the aisle, arm looped with her father's. Gasps rippled through the crowd, not at the gown, not at the diamond necklace, but at the girl wearing them. A commoner. A beggar, soon to be their queen.

Y/n walked slowly down the aisle, trying not to falter under the weight of stares that clung to her like sticky brambles. Her breath caught when she met Harry’s eyes, mischievous, proud, and tender. There was something grounding in his gaze, like a rope cast to a woman who was still learning to stand on marble floors.

At the altar, the Archbishop cleared his throat and began the ceremony, reading from the Book of Common Prayer, as was custom. The vows were traditional, spoken clearly before God and court:

“Will you, Harry, take this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I will.”

“Will you, Y/n, take this man to be your wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance—”

“I will,” she said, quietly but firmly, not letting her voice sound weak in front of the staring spectators.

There were no whispers of love, no passionate declarations. But when Harry slid the ornate ring, a band of twisted gold and sapphire, onto her finger, his thumb brushed hers with lingering affection. A touch that said more than their vows ever could.

When they were pronounced husband and wife, the organ swelled. Tradition usually dictated a polite kiss on the cheek before turning to face the congregation. But Harry, never one for subtlety, leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, dipping her ever so slightly, and Y/n grabbed onto his coat to steady herself. Gasps rose, half in horror, half in delight. He pulled back with a wink only she could see.

Then, side by side, they faced the court. Stone faces stared back. Y/n straightened her spine.

"Let them glare," he said under his breath as they smiled.

The cathedral bells rang again as the newly crowned Queen Y/n emerged from the grand oak doors on Harry’s arm. A scattering of cheers broke out in the crowd gathered beyond the palace gates, though they were thin and uncertain, peppered with scowls, taciturn nobles, and commoners caught between fascination and suspicion.

The royal carriage stood gleaming in the late afternoon light, a glossy black and gold coach pulled by six white horses adorned in crested harnesses. Its polished sides mirrored the anxious faces that lined the route, and the royal seal glinted on the carriage doors.

Y/n climbed in first, the veil like a cloud behind her. Harry followed, waving once to the crowd with an exaggerated flourish, as if daring them to boo. Fred closed the door after them with a look of quiet resignation, before hopping into the carriage behind with the footmen.

Inside, the carriage was warm and velvet-lined, the heavy scent of roses clinging to the seats. Y/n stared out the window as they began to move, flanked by guards on horseback.

“They hate me,” she whispered.

Harry leaned against the cushion and smiled as he pulled her hand into his. “You shouldn't worry about what a bunch of thick-headed sardines think of you. They'er blind.”

She looked up at him and smiled. "I woke up thinking that you'd come to your senses and call it off. That I'd be waiting, all dressed and ready, and you'd be locked in your chambers and have me removed."

He shook his head, soft green irises sliding over her frame and up to her face. “I’ve come to my senses, all right. That’s why you’re sitting here now.”

Y/n looked down at their joined hands—his thumb gently stroking over her knuckles—and for a moment, the heavy world outside the carriage fell away.

“I don’t know how to be a queen,” she admitted, voice barely audible over the rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestone.

Harry leaned closer, his voice lower, softer now. “Good.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, and he smiled at the sound, genuine and unguarded. Then he brought her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her fingers. “You don’t have to be perfect, Y/n. You just have to be real.”

Outside, the crowd grew louder as the palace gates loomed ahead, but inside the carriage, it was warm and still. She shifted closer to him, their shoulders touching now, the lace of her sleeve brushing the brocade of his coat.

And though the kingdom buzzed with scandal, and the court plotted behind polished smiles, in that quiet stretch of space before the next curtain rose, King Harry and Queen Y/n simply breathed, side by side.

.

The Great Hall of Thornekeep Palace was transformed for the occasion—hundreds of beeswax candles glittered from chandeliers high above, and polished mirrors doubled the light across the walls. Tapestries were drawn back to reveal the grand stonework of the castle’s bones, lending an air of both splendor and severity. Long banquet tables were laid out in rows, gleaming with silverware, crystal goblets, and floral arrangements that spilled over with wildflowers and white roses.

Music floated through the room, an ensemble of violinists and harpists near the hearth played a series of traditional waltzes, though the tempo felt more funereal than festive. No one danced yet. The air was too tight.

At the head table, Y/n sat beside Harry beneath a carved wooden canopy bearing the royal crest. Her plate was filled, but her appetite lagged behind her nerves. The food was elaborate: roast venison with plum glaze, lemon-rosemary quail, bowls of minted peas and white asparagus, and trenchers of honeyed bread and soft cheeses. There was wine from the southern vineyards and towering sugar confections shaped like swans and crowns.

Phoebe stood nearby, ever watchful, whispering quiet instructions on what to do with each fork, when to dab her mouth, when to rise. Y/n nodded gratefully.

The murmurs never stopped.

“She curtsied too shallow.”

“She speaks like she’s from the gutter.”

“Can’t even hold a wineglass properly…”

Harry heard them. Y/n could see it in the tick of his jaw. At one point, a nobleman seated halfway down the table made a thinly veiled comment about the "peculiar scent of fishmongers at court." Harry stood, clinked his glass, and with all the weight of his crown and grin declared:

“I rather like the smell of a woman who knows how to survive.”

The room went silent. Then, reluctantly—awkwardly—a few polite claps began. Phoebe stifled a laugh. Fred looked like he’d aged ten years.

As the night wore on, the air grew looser. Jugglers and acrobats entered, performing near the rear hearth to entertain the children and lower nobility. A small group of traveling actors performed a dramatic retelling of King Augustus the Wise, a none-too-subtle dig at Harry’s late father, much to Harry’s delight.

Y/n watched it all in a dreamlike haze, the velvet of her seat warm beneath her and her crown tugging gently at her temples. She caught Harry looking at her between sips of wine. He reached across the table, not for her hand, but to slide a sugared fig onto her plate.

Y/n picked it up and bit into the fig. Sweet. Sharp. Decadent.

She looked at him with gratitude, holding his gaze a beat longer than proper, feeling something settle in her chest, something warm, steady, and terrifyingly real. Before she could say anything, Fred appeared beside the table with the stiff posture of a man who’d tried to interrupt twice already and failed.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, bowing slightly toward Harry. “Lord Chancellor Whitely requests a word regarding the foreign trade representatives. He says it won’t wait.”

Harry groaned under his breath, tilting his head back like a man being dragged to the gallows. “Of course it won’t.” He gave Y/n’s hand a final squeeze under the table. “This is important. I will return as quickly as possible.”

As Fred guided him away, a soft voice called Y/n’s name from just behind her. She turned to find Phoebe leaning in with that same practiced smile she wore whenever navigating nobility like thorns.

“Your mother’s asking for you. I told her you’d come as soon as you’d had a moment and now that the king has been called off…”

Y/n blinked, surprised, rising carefully, nodding her thanks as Phoebe adjusted the fall of her gown behind her. The palace loomed vast and glittering, but with Harry’s warmth still clinging to her skin. Y/n lifted her chin and walked toward where her mother and sisters were standing.

Her mother let out a dramatic sob and pulled Y/n's hands into her warm ones. "You are the Queen. I hear the whispers of everyone around me, but I know you and you are worthy. Even if he already has his mistress up in his room waiting, we all know who his wife is. Whom he has chosen as his queen."

"His mistress?" Y/n looked over her shoulder at Phoebe, who shook her head in confusion, eyes flitting between the mother and daughter.

"Yes. I heard some people talking about a woman named Pearl. She's waiting for him in his chambers right now. Did you not know?"

Y/n swallowed, the back of her throat hollow as she shook her head in disbelief. Her head swirled, making her dizzy, and her sight suddenly shaded in red. Had that been the real reason why he was called off so suddenly? Had he lied to her about what he thought of Pearl? But why?

"I did not know. Thank you, mother. I need to sit."

Y/n tried not to let the dismay that clenched at her heart show on her face. Phoebe was speaking, but Y/n couldn't put together the sentences or make sense of anything. If he'd just been honest the first time around, she wouldn't have so suddenly been caught off guard. She had expected him to take a mistress but when he told her he wouldn't be…

Sitting back in her place, she looked around at the lingering gazes and then at her plate in silence. The food she hadn't finished staring back up at her in a taunt. She couldn't believe that she'd been deceived by him. But she refused to let tears stain her cheeks. She was already the butt of the joke and now she knew it to be true. She'd been so stupid.

Even though the room was full of wealth and opulence, no one danced to the music, and very few applauded the children's entertainment on the other side of the Great Hall. The longer she sat in her fancy chair, in her beautiful dress, without Harry by her side, the more she became certain that he was with Pearl. Why would he be rushed away on the evening of his wedding if not to secretly see his new lover? Would he really allow a business meeting to take precedence? None of it made sense anymore.

Y/n drank down her glass of wine and motioned to have another filled. If she was going to be ignored by her new husband while he played with his mistress behind her back, she was going to try and get on with things, and a bit of drink couldn't hurt. Phoebe had tried to offer her comforting words but it didn't help.

"He's off with her. How long has he already been gone? It's been an hour? I know better than to trust him again."

"Please, madam… I think your mother was mistaken. The king only has eyes for you—"

"My mother knew her name. Someone was speaking about it right in front of her, and she learned a secret that was not meant to be exposed. I'm happy to be armed with the truth. At least I know now."

The chatter in the room softened as heads turned toward the hall's arched entry when Harry and Fred stepped back inside. Y/n looked away. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome after having come back from wherever he'd been. His bed with Pearl likely.

When he sat back down, he reached his hand under the table to place over her skirt but she scooted herself away as much as possible and turned sharply to look anywhere but at him.

"What's wrong, mouse?"

She lifted her glass to her lips and took a long pull of her drink before setting it back down with a loud clunk onto the table. She refused to look at his face. "Do not call me mouse ever again."

Harry glanced up at Phoebe, who was standing near Y/n's chair and then back at his bride's side profile, speaking louder that time. "What is wrong? Tell me what has happened?"

Those who sat closest to the king and queen watched on curiously.

"Did you have fun while you were away? Was it necessary to take an hour to do it?"

"The Lord Chancellor had very important news, and I needed to settle an issue. I did not intend for it to take as long as it did. I apologize. Is that why you're angry?"

She felt her heart thudding in her chest as anger rose up her spine. "Liar."

"Liar? Do you think I am lying right now? Why would I lie to you about something like this? I did not… Will you turn and look at me?"

Y/n turned away further stubbornly, into an uncomfortable position in her seat as she kept her gaze set away from him. Harry groaned and a few seconds later, Y/n felt her chair being pulled back and a hand grasping at the top of her arm, pulling her up to stand. She huffed as Harry brought her with him away from the table and toward the servant's door out of earshot of the guests.

"Look at me right now, Y/n. I will not tolerate your cryptic anger. Tell me what's wrong at once."

She clenched her jaw and slowly, ever so slowly, let her eyes land on his. "I know what you did. You don't need to lie to me and make a fool of me. At least have the respect to be honest with me!"

Harry wanted to laugh, but he was beginning to get angry himself. He hadn't the slightest idea of what she was on about. "Okay. Then tell me what you think I did."

Y/n tried to maintain a stern, defiant expression and not let her emotions rise to the surface but the longer she looked at his pretty face the harder it was. "Pearl."

He raised his brows and blinked. "What about Pearl? The Mables were all disinvited from the wedding. They are not here. What of Pearl?"

"She was waiting for you in your chambers, and you just went to her. Everyone already knows that's what you did. Your secret got out, and now I know."

He couldn't help it when he a laugh fell from his mouth, and Y/n scowled. "You think that I was with Pearl? Are you serious? Have you not learned yet that believing the whispers of the overly pampered people in this room are as good as fiction?"

She blinked at him, her lips turning downward as her conviction faltered. "My mother told me."

He shook his head. "I don't care who told you. You were lied to. I was with Fred, the Lord Chancellor, and two of his men…" Harry pointed behind Y/n. "Look. There they are now. Taking their seats."

She turned to see three men sitting down, smiles on their faces. And as she let her eyes wander the room, she noticed that many people were not paying much attention to her at that moment. A few were staring, but most were drinking their wine and talking to the people around them.

She looked back up at him. "Do you have a mistress? You might as well tell me now, Harry. At least be honest with me. It's not like I'm going to end the courtship or anything. Too late for that."

"I told you I wasn't taking a mistress, and I meant it."

Y/n searched his face, eyes flitting between his irises and the anger, and the sharp ache of betrayal slowly dissolved when she found nothing but honesty in his eyes. She realized that someone had purposely said those things about Pearl in front of her mother for this very outcome. She'd fallen for the lies.

"You need to trust me. No one else here can be trusted. No one cares about you like I do, so you can't listen to them. They are lying to put a wall between us but it won't work because you're smarter than that. Look who I married?" He ran his knuckles along her jaw. "You're all I want. Why would I ever go with Opal when I have you, here, looking like this…" he said as he looked down over her gown.

"Pearl."

"Who?" He grinned playfully.

She smiled, finally, and Harry let out a breath. "There's that smile. Beautiful."

Y/n looked down, feeling embarrassed by her behavior.

Harry ran his hand down her arm and pulled her closer. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She breathed out a soft laugh. "And you're the devil."

"A handsome one?"

Nodding, she grinned wider, unable to stifle it any longer.

"Let's go back and take our seats before we politely make leave."

The great hall had grown quieter. The candlelight, though still plentiful, seemed to flicker more lazily now, wax dripping down to silver trays as though the evening itself were beginning to loosen its corset. The musicians had shifted to slower, gentler melodies, less formal, less performative. A lull had settled in.

Guests were beginning to drift away in pairs and small clusters, offering final bows and well-wishes to chamberlains and assistants rather than seeking out the king or queen directly. No one had announced the end, but the message was clear: the night was folding itself closed, and that was more than fine with Harry and Y/n.

Y/n's back ached faintly beneath the weight of her new crown as they took their seats again. Across the room, Phoebe stood watchfully near the far wall with Niall next to her, whispering, while the kitchen staff had begun clearing away the final courses with quiet precision.

Harry slid his hand against hers under the table, and quiet chatter surrounded them. She was ready to leave the Great Hall and be done with the theatrics of the day. Her emotions had been quite volatile all day, and the quiet of Harry's bedchambers was beginning to sound like a dream right then.

Fred appeared at Harry’s side and said something in his ear. Harry gave a faint nod, then turned to Y/n with that same roguish smile he’d worn at the altar, but softer, laced with something she couldn’t quite name.

He leaned toward her, close enough that only she could hear. “It's time for us to depart.”

She rose with him, and though no formal announcement followed, the shift was immediate. Some of the guests turned their eyes away in practiced discretion. A few nobles bowed as they passed. Some merely watched with disapproving eyes.

They exited through a smaller side corridor, footsteps muffled on hand-woven rugs. The hall behind them continued to hum, but it was like walking away from a fever dream, something ornate and strange, but already fading.

Once they were alone, past the eyes and expectations, Harry reached for her hand again as he led her up to his room. The corridors of the royal wing were hushed, dimly lit by flickering sconces.

Neither of them spoke. There had been enough of the show. Enough talking and forced smiles. As their footsteps echoed down the long hallway, Harry’s thumb traced idle circles against her knuckles, and Y/n held onto his hand like it was the first real thing she’d touched all day.

At the doors to his chambers, he paused only briefly before pushing them open. The room had been set up for the wedding night, warm with candlelight and perfumed faintly with cedar as the fireplaced crackled. The moment the heavy doors clicked shut behind them, something inside the silence softened. The weight of the crown, the stifling eyes of the court, the perfect stillness she’d worn like armor… it all began to peel away.

Harry turned to her and reached for her waist to pull her close, his touch gentle and secure. Her hands slid over the lapels of his coat, anchoring herself in the solid warmth of him.

"My Queen," he spoke just above a whisper as he palmed at her cheek softly.

Y/n smiled shyly. "My King."

He leaned down, slowly, unhurried, and pressed his forehead to hers as they both closed their eyes. There was no rush to move away from the quiet moment; in fact, it had been necessary, vital. The sound of their breaths, the feel of closeness between them… Y/n trailed her fingers up his arm and tilted her face toward his lips, before pressing them to his in a kiss that was sweet and filled with quiet relief.

. .

Chapter 6 is where we'll finally be getting the smut. I'll be dedicating the entire next part to their wedding night 🤭 xoxo

. .

Feedback/Thoughts | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

. .

Tags: @matildasatellite @stylesftcher @hinnyrx @eversincehs1 @sunshinemoonsposts

@whoreonmondays @archerxnn @daphnesutton @spinninc @haliastyless

@multiplefandomstan @bruhk @sassamanda77 @cherryshouse @montgomery-929496

@cherriesncupcakes @practistyles @matildalittlefreak @imaginexxharry @oifukinloser

@hoolabalooba @jaebeomsblackgf @wildcstdrexms @gilwm @yousunshineyoutempter

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx @closureesny @angelbabyyy99

@malwtilda @itjustkindahappenedreally @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho

@gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @angeldavis777 @lillefroe

@monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno @caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla

@ladscarlett @heartateasee @littlenatilda @michellekstyles @harrysredroom

@harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb

@fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10 @gmikaelson @vanteguccir

@fangirl509east @virgopr1ncess @hoolabalooba

[hannieoftheyear]

LUCKY STRIKE [C.VN]

Vernon would never let anything happen to you. But when the time comes, and he's standing at your doorstep, flowers in one hand, and bloody cuts in the other, it's your turn to take care of him for once.

pairing: vernon x fem!reader

word count: 4,5k of lazy and messy sex for you

genre/au: mafia au, established relationship, smut with the barest plot, a bit of fluff.

content warnings: vernon is terribly down bad, light mafia themes, implied violent encounters, blood, bruises, cuts, minor injuries, reader takes care of his injuries and he gets horny, this is corny, you were warned!! | explicit smut: couch sex, switch!vernon, switch!reader, sucking fingers, they both have a thing for hands and fingers, biting, spit kink, spit as lube, handjob, unprotected sex (don't be stupid pls), cumming inside, nicknames: baby (both).

♥︎ thank you to everyone that tolerated me sending clips of vernon on the thunder stages for days ♡ this is for you

🎧: shining star (vernon solo) — seventeen

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY. I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED

check out my main masterlist ♡

note: i'm a sucker for lazy couch sex with vernon and i won't apologize for it!! i hope you enjoy this silly thing ♥︎

this was, of course, heavily inspired by all the 'happy burstday' concept photos and stages

mafia prompt taken from here ♥︎ dividers here

"Being adopted into the local mafia has its pros and cons."

Pros: You can safely do your 2 am. grocery shopping at the one superstore that's open all night without fearing for your life. Those scary looking men, the ones you'd normally cross the street to avoid, treat you like their little sister. All except for the cutest one of them all.

The gloomy night accompanies the swift movements of the crochet needle between your fingers, tangling the strings of light blue and red knitting wool you bought days ago in a whim. In the search for a new hobby, your algorithm acted out again, and you ended up on the granny activities side, peaking your interest enough to sit on your uncomfortable couch for hours trying to make a usable piece of clothing.

Normally, on a weekend night, the cold wind would be welcomed by your barely covered skin, walking hand in hand with the only guy your self proclaimed body guards allowed you to be in close proximity to. But something, or rather, someone, told you to stay home for the night.

Another pro of being close with the bad guys: they help you avoid confrontations with threatening rival gangs. You're left blissfully out of the mess, but, as you're still able to hear the rounds of loud noises on the streets around the neighborhood, you're also not unaware of the bruises you see covering the guys' arms and faces the next day.

Your forehead hurts from all the frowning you've been doing for the past hour, trying to figure out the pattern you should be following and restarting every few rows.

A soft, unsure knock takes your concentration away, but it quickly puts a smile on your face as you realize who's the only person that'd show up at this hour at your door. The amateur crochet project is left forgotten on the coffee table, the metal needle crinkling against the glass as you get up from the couch.

But, whatever excitement you had, it drops completely as soon as the doorknob turns under your hold, and the door opens to reveal who you were expecting.

Vernon stands at the entrance, with his side smile painting his face as if everything was okay. You instantly know it's not. His lower lip is swollen red, probably from a punch, the neck line of his t-shirt is stretched far more than normal, with a tear visible on the side.

Cons of being adopted by the local mafia: your big bad mafia boyfriend constantly gets hurt on the job.

With one hand busy holding a bouquet of your favorite yellow flowers, he wraps the other one around your waist when you don't move, frozen analyzing his state. "Not happy to see me?"

Vernon's teasing smile so close to you, mixed with his breath fanning your face as he leans in to give you a peck, is intoxicating. His bruised lips are soft against yours, taking seconds longer to feel you on him than normal. One would never guess he's hurt from the way he's pushing himself against you.

"Baby, what happened?" Your hand reaches for his behind your back, the cuts on his knuckles harsh under the pads of your fingers.

He sighs against your parted lips, chuckling lightly before taking a step back and letting himself in into your apartment. "You should see the other guys."

"Multiple?" Your wide eyes follow him as he searches for a vase to put the flowers he brought.

It's natural for him to have his way around your home. After all, he's the only one that you, or your neighborly mafia, ever allowed in. It's your sacred place, safe from the dangerous outside world, the only place where you can be truly calm, be with him with no fears.

While he occupies himself with his gift, you take the chance to escape to your bathroom, wash the dried blood from your hands, and find your first aid kit. The one you've never had to use before.

You were always the one who he took care of, who he protected, made sure you were intact. After so many times he was there for you, it's your turn to take care of him and heal his wounds the best you can.

"Remember I told you to stay in today?" His gaze is trained on you as you sink down next to him. The click of the aid kit opening breaks the silence as he waits for your answer.

You only nod, half hearing him, half focusing on grabbing what you need to disinfect the cuts in his hand. His hand that places itself on your thigh to draw your attention.

"We're okay—I'm okay," his voice is soft, knowing you worry every time he goes out to parts of the town they don't have under their control, "it was just a small payback."

"Baby, you're bleeding," Vernon hisses as you clean the wounds around his knuckles with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, "who did you go with?"

"Mingyu and Wonwoo," your insides burn, feeling his stare, boring holes on the side of your face, "they took on the bigger guys." Vernon jokes.

You shouldn't sigh in relief hearing that, but you do so anyway.

It's a regular occurrence for the guys to tease him for his objectively smaller build, but he counters it with a perfectly learned strategy. He knows how to fight, knows the places that hurt the most being punched, where to kick, poke, slap to make his opponent lose their balance, and ultimately, the fight.

"Let's hope these people don't come back after you."

"Believe me, they won't." He smirks, charging his words with smugness.

You wrap the little bandage you had saved around his hand with care. Not too loose, not to tight. You feel his eyes on you as you leave the aid kit on the table, right besides the mess of knitting wool you alredy forgot was there.

"I have the best nurse ever." Vernon wastes no time, lifting your hips with his, now working, hands, and sits you on his lap, both your legs fitting naturally at his sides as he realizes you're only wearing panties under your t-shirt. "I should come here hurt more often."

"Then you'll have to replace the stuff I use on you!" Looking slightly down to connect your eyes with his, your teasing tone vanishes at the soft glimmer in his eyes. "Please, just… be careful next time."

The side of his face feels warm against the palm of your hand, and he leans into your touch, feeling your care even through the smallest, most mundane touches.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up like this." His doe eyes turn glassy, searching for any anger indicators on your expression, but only finding worry. "I just wanted to see you."

You could never get mad at him. Not when you met him knowing full well what his life was like. Not when he pursued you by showing you he can still be a gentleman despite his shady life. Not when he never gave you any reason not to trust him.

"I wanted to see you too," you reveal as if you didn't constantly wait for him. Sitting on this very couch every night, longing for that knock on the door you always know it's him. "I don't mind taking care of you."

"I should be the one doing that." Vernon's hands fix their grip on your hips, reminding you that they're still there, holding you close to him.

"Well, I'm not the one getting into fights with 6 feet tall buff guys on the daily."

He chuckles, full of endearment, and your stomach tightens. If you could rank every sound you ever heard, Vernon's kinds of laughs and giggles would all be at the top, not a very close race with anything else. It's a distinguishable sound you never want to forget.

Your hand goes down the side of Vernon's neck, his pulse accelerating under your touch as you check to see if he's real, if he's really sitting on your couch with you straddling him.

His focus get lost on your touch now going down the side of his arm, and soon finds your hand with his. He interlocks his fingers with yours as soon as he gets a hold of it, directing your hand to his mouth and leaving a gentle but teasing kiss on the back of it.

"Vernon," you reprimand, but don't stop him as he places peck after peck everywhere on your hand, each triggering a wave of different feelings down your nervous system. He's uncontrollable and always finds the way to get you in the mood with him.

"You look so pretty over me, all worried." His hot breath tickles your fingers that were just taking care of him.

Your thumb swipes gently over his busted lip, raw from his habit of gnawing at them with his teeth and from the fight you're nursing him from. He purses his lips, teasing your awaiting skin, goosebumps waking up all over your body at the anticipation.

"You can't seriously be turned on by this," you snicker to try and hide the very real reactions he's eliciting from you.

His eyes snap back to you at your words, as if a challenge was set.

So quick you barely have time to register it, the hand at your hip travels to your lower back and Vernon's sliding you across his lap, showing off his strength to get you closer to his torso until you're completely against him.

Every part of you is against him. His right hand on your back, holding you electrically close to his growing hard, pulsing against your core. Your hand's held hostage by his left hand just above where your chest flushes against his.

"You have no idea how crazy I am for you." Every word he says reverberates through his chest and into yours.

Gasping is your only answer. You don't trust your ability to apeak properly in your current state of increasing bodily heat.

"When I wake up and you're not next to me," he continues, "my first thought is always to come looking for you." His fingers wander inside the big t-shirt you're wearing, one you stole from him after your first night together.

"Nothing stops you from staying the night here." Your voice draws the smirk back on his face.

"I'd stay here every night if it didn't mean putting you in danger." Longing bleeds through his words, true and hurt.

"But you'd be here to protect me." You're not naive. You know what he means. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to be close to him every second of every day.

Vernon nods in acknowledgment, a silent agreement between the two of you. It's dangerous. Everything about your relationship is risky. But even if he's willing to put himself at risk for the chance of seeing you, he'd never put you in danger. He'd never take that chance.

His lips kissing your hand again catch your attention, every fiber of your body now focused on his next move. Your fingers, cold against the warmness spreading across his face, seem to be the only thing on Vernon's mind.

When he wraps his mouth around your index finger, gently sucking on it with a new admiration, fire expands from your insides and out, taking everything with it, filling you with a new, unexpected want.

"Vern—" Your breath halts at the mention of his name, fueling his need as he dives in further, playing with his tongue around your finger like it was his new favorite toy.

You've never felt anything like this. A hot, sizzling arousal rushing through your veins at the sight of your boyfriend worshiping the fingers that were just nursing him.

A choked up moan escapes you as he sucks another finger in his mouth. Your index and middle finger are now coated in his spit, making a messy, wet toy out of your hand.

The couch moves just slightly as you push yourself against him at every swirl of his tongue, feeling his length hardening with every uncontrolled grind of your hips against his.

Vernon's other hand travels all over your torso, finding you're wearing no bra under the shirt that was once his. He loves making a moaning mess of you, mixing the arousal from sucking on your fingers with the touch you've been craving on your chest.

Everywhere. He's everywhere. His thighs under yours, his hard pressing against your barely covered core, his hand feeling your chest up as your fingers scrape the sides of his mouth.

Every second it passes, you search for more of him, pressing against his chest until he has trouble fondling your breasts.

He pulls your fingers out of his mouth slowly, a string of saliva connecting them with his lower lips stretching until it breaks, undoing the trance you were in while watching Vernon have his way.

"I should be taking care of you," your voice breaks into a whisper, your boyfriend’s dark stare punching away any thought you had.

"Having you on top of me is all I need," your wet fingers trace his jaw as he speaks, and he smirks at the sounds you make when he flicks one of your nipples with his thumb, "making you moan my name when I've barely touched you."

His eyes train on your parted lips, exhaling heavily as he plays with your nipples exactly how he knows you like it. You can only fist the stretched neckline of his t-shirt, making it worse but making it yours.

Your other hand finds the back of his head, his growing buzz-cut threading between your fingers.

"Have I told you I love your hair?" How you find it in you to speak is beyond your knowledge, but he chuckles at your nonsense, and the fire burning at the pit of your stomach spreads down your thighs and soaks your underwear further. "I love it so much."

Vernon's hard groin twitches under the needy grinding of your hips, his throat swallowing with trouble as you break down his facade little by little.

"Let me," you know he won't take his hands off of you willingly. You don't really want him to stop either, but you're focusing on him tonight.

He groans as you push yourself off him, quickly finding the zipper of his jeans. "Baby…" his words trail off seeing you kneeling on the floor against him.

Trying to slip his jeans and boxers down, he gives in and lifts his body to help you. He'd never deny you of anything you want.

You don't restrain yourself, your hands finding the flesh of his thighs and traveling up and up until you're barely touching where he most wants to.

But a hand sneaks under your jaw, tilting it up until you're connecting eyes with Vernon again. "Don't," you barely whisper, a plea for him to let you make him feel good.

"Want you on top," he doesn't ask, doesn't order you, only outers his wish, with his eyebrows quirking in the way that always has you melting for him, "I'd feel much, much better."

You snort with an endearing smile, "I thought you were fine." Even after your teasing remainder, you oblige what he wants.

"Every time you get off of me, I start feeling sick," he coughs a few times to get his point across, "my body needs you to feel well.

Vernon's always been able to make you laugh, even when you're on the brink of tearing all his clothes off. "Then we better listen!"

His bare legs find themselves under your weight again, the skin to skin contact igniting every connecting point of your bodies. You tug at the ends of his damaged t-shirt until he gets the hint you want it off.

Vernon groans as the dampness of your panties rubs against his length, gripping your hips to flush you against him harder, not wanting to wait any longer to feel you all over him. You waste no time, holding his face between your hands and closing the electrifying distance between you.

A moan fights out of him a soon as your lips take his, molding together perfectly, as if they were meant to be connected forever. You can feel where his lower lip is hurt, swiping your tongue over the bruise as he moans on your mouth again.

Your hand caresses the side of his face, not letting his lips go as the other travels down his heaving chest. His muscles tense under the teasing touch of your fingers, nails raking down his skin.

Another moan coming from him is exactly what you need as you sneak your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock that craves your touch.

He chases your lips as you lean back, revealing the state he's in, all because of you. His lips glisten with the mix of yours and his spit, parted and calling for you again as he catches his breath.

The changing shine in your eyes alerts him that you're planning something, an idea planted by the sight before you.

You swirl your tongue in your mouth, gathering as much spit as you can before locking eyes with him and letting it drop out of your lips, falling in a glob until it sits at the tip of his hardness.

Vernon's eyes darken at every one of your moves, his gaze entranced on your lips. Lips that were spilling all kinds of worried words minutes ago, and now are coating his cock with saliva so your hand can glide up and down at your desired pace.

"God, baby," your hand squeezes around him, spreading the mix of spit and precum so slowly on his girth that he's having trouble breathing, "you're so good to me."

The back of the couch holds his head as he leans back with another groan. His neck stretched out, glistening with sweat, calls to you. And who are you not to answer?

Your core traps his erection against your hand as you lean in, leaving wet kisses on your boyfriend's throat, feeling his every sound vibrating against your lips. He mumbles praises into the air, letting his hands wander across your back and squeezing your ass to press your further to him.

The wet fabric of your panties sticks to your folds in the shape of his length, everything pushing your cores together harder and harder. You let the swift rhythm of your hand on his cock and you grinding your covered clit against him take you to another world.

"Feel better?" Your lips graze the sensitive skin on his neck as you half ask half gasp.

Vernon's automatic response is to tighten his hold on your ass, grinding your hips against his with more force, the friction between your cores breathtaking. "I could," he teases.

"Greedy," your hot breath hits under his earlobe, and even you can feel the shiver going down Vernon's body.

His cock twitches as you slow down the pace of you hand. The combining feel of your folds and your hand stroking him almost make Vernon go crazy.

"You feel so good, baby," his eyes close in concentration, every touch of yours too much for him, "can't wait to be inside you."

In the midst of his senseless words and your desperate touches, Vernon finds the way to sneak a hand under you. Between his legs, his digits find the dampness growing at your core. "So wet already, for me."

Another hand grabs a fistful of your hair, detaching your mouth from licking your way up his jaw. He forces you to look at him, eyes full of desire, waiting for your answer.

"Yes—all for you-u," your words break in a moan as two fingers sneak under your panties, collecting your arousal and triggering another wave.

"Good." It is all for him. All because of him. The only one who can have you like this.

Smirking, his eyes lock in with yours, full of fire as his hand appears in your field of view. You don't stop looking into his eyes, the mischievous glint on them keeping you there, all while he sucks your juices off his fingers.

It takes all your strength to get up from the couch again, with only one objective in mind.

Your boyfriend gawks as if you were putting on a show only for him, slipping down his favorite panties, now stained with an unholy amount of juices. He stares with his mouth agape, but he's not patient. As soon as the fabric's off, he's grabbing your big t-shirt and pulling you towards him again.

Lips crash with lust and desperation, messily craving more and more. His teeth nibble at your lower lip, a matching bruise waiting to appear, but you don't care. You moan in his mouth, tangling your fingers with the short hair growing at the back of his head.

His thigh becomes a mess of your arousal, careless about your position as you let Vernon have his way into your mouth. Your tongues dance around the other, slowly melting into each other.

"Spit," you chase his lips as he separates to demand. Seeing his non-injured hand under your jaw, you quickly realize what he's doing.

Your living room's filled with gasping sounds and hot breaths, time stopping as your eyes lock. Vernon's eyes are on you as you let your spit drop into his hand.

You hover over his groin, dripping into his hand as he lowers it down between your cores. The tip of his cock grazes your entrance as he pumps his hard with his spit covered hand, the wet sounds reaching your ears.

Sinking down on your boyfriend's lap, the head of his cock enters you just right, your walls welcoming to mold into his shape.

Your lips stop working as you're filled to the brim, sitting on Vernon's thighs and gasping into his mouth trying to get used to the unprepared stretch.

As you're draped over his torso, he easily finds his way down your neck.

"Relax, baby," he says against the skin of your neck.

Every spot he knows you like, he kisses, whispering encouraging praise that gives you chills. Under your ear, along your jaw, over your pulse point, his lips press and suck at your skin, feeling how you warm up around him.

When he shifts his position slightly, his length pushes inside you just a bit more, your walls clamp against him, sucking him further inside in a whine, "That's it."

His husky voice goes through your ear and down to your core, and you swivel your hips up just to elicit another sound from him.

Vernon's hands find themselves gripping your hips again, helping you as you start a lazy pace on his lap. Your teeth sink down on the flesh between his shoulder and his neck, and he moans in your ear at the sensation.

"You'll have to take care of that one too," his breath tickles down your ear, and the vibrations of your chuckle almost make you lose your focus on him.

You kiss on the dent shaped like your teeth, "like you don't love it."

He hums a broken moan, the combination of everything you're giving him finally working like you intended.

Your walls tighten around him just as your fingers find his scalp, short nails raking between his growing buzz-cut trying to have him losing his mind under you.

It's not long before his hips join the fun, thrusting up to meet your pace and making you lose your breath. You feel him up to your throat, every place inside you marked with his name.

Vernon's hands roam all over your torso, indecisive, keeping you close but in the search for his favorite places to grope and touch. Your body's on the verge of giving out, and he knows it.

When he wraps his arms around your back and leans back against the couch, flushing your chest completely against his, you both lose it.

You're not in control anymore, if you ever were. Your knees barely stay at his sides as he thrusts up incessantly, the sounds of your ass slapping against the flesh of his thighs echoing around your living room.

But his groaning in your ear, his rambling words about how good you are for him, are only for you to hear.

Intercalating between lazy and desperate, no matter the time or the place, Vernon always finds that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

So quickly, it'd be embarrassing if it was anyone else, your body starts quivering, every one of your senses losing focus as your insides get closer and closer to snapping.

"I'm c-close," you manage to form a coherent string of words in between a few merciless thrusts.

"I can feel it—" a breathless whine mixes up between his words, "cum around me, baby." He's as desperate as you.

With everything combined, Vernon's noises on your ear, his arms tight around you, and every spot inside you being abused at once, the world becomes a blur of fire and white light as your orgasm rips through you.

Your body shakes on top of him as Vernon chases his own orgasm, stretching yours for as long as his cock grinds inside you with a purpose. But he's a weak man when it comes to you, and with the way your walls clamp hard around him, making him work for every thrust, it's not long before he's lost too.

You feel the ropes of cum coating your walls, his length twitching as you take it all. All of him inside you as if you were one.

Silence, deep breaths and the smell of sex fill the room as your bodies take in everything you just did.

Only when Vernon's lips kiss along your shoulder, you realize he's still inside you, and you shouldn't rest.

"I have the best nurse ever," Vernon chuckles along his words as you get up from his lap to find your discarded panties.

Everything is still the same. His clothes disregarded on the floor, the flowers sitting on a vase you haven't seen since you moved in.

You turn around to find him putting on his boxers, his eyes a promise that he's not done with you yet, "I don't think a good nurse would recommend this type of cardio after a fight."

"Then I don't trust them."

Chuckling again, and knowing he'll join you later in the shower, you fall between his arms again, laying together on the couch like you've done so many times before.

Now is your turn to look up at him, the fire in his eyes not gone, but now overpowered by endearment.

You don't want to. You really don't want to. But your eyes close with tiredness, and the rhythm of Vernon's breathing is so serene that you fall asleep in his arms.

There, in your couch, everything around you forgotten and replaced by him.

note: thank you so much for reading! pls share your thoughts I'd love to read them ♥︎

[greniza]

I'm gonna give it a shot.

"Bruul k'dak ja'am ung gnurya"

"Talk no kill to child"

"Galun ga'an kirbash ang gru'ub ung inga gnu'ur."

"Please do not speak of murder to the young woman."

Let's assume that this is a language based heavily on prefixes and suffixes to impart meaning, and that such components are monosyllabic. (Notice that "gnu'ur" is bisected by apostrophe, while "bruul" is not, implying the latter is a single syllable and therefore component, while the former is two syllables).

Let's break our words down.

Bruul (Bruul)

K(h) (K'dak)

Dak (K'dak)

Ja (Ja'am)

Am (Ja'am)

Ung (Ung, Ung)

Gnu (Gnurya, Gnu'ur)

Rya (Gnurya)

Ga (Galun, Ga'an, Inga)

Lun (Galun)

An (Ga'an)

Kir (Kirbash)

Bash (Kirbash)

Ang (Ang)

Gu (Gu'ub)

Ub (Gu'ub)

In (Inga)

Ur (Gnu'ur)

NOTES:

"Inga" may instead by "ing-a" rather than "in-ga", as was my initial reading. Such is the problem with trying to write everything in latin script.

Given that Gesh's dialogue's translation is 'crude', it's possible it's a transliteration. We'll see how far we can get without assuming that.

Given the similarities in "Gnurya" and "Gnu'ur," there are two real possible translations of the two. It's possible that "Gnu" is a prefix meaning "Young," with "ur" meaning "woman" and "rya" meaning "person." It's also possible that "Gnu" refers to speaking, in which case "gnu'ur" and "gnurya" are different conjugations of "speak."

I prefer the former case, because it lets me perform some interesting connections; let us run with that. "Ung" would therefore be the grammatical equivalent of "to," and it is likely the case that "inga" would transform an indefinite to a definite ("young woman" to "this young woman" or "the young woman").

From here, translation becomes more difficult, but we can somewhat speculate. I can make logic along the lines of "well if I were making a conlang, this is what I would do." Well, I would have particles having similar sounds, like "ang" and "ung" do. What if, therefore, "ang" is our "of," making "Gu'ub" into "murder"?

Now, we've reached an endpoint of translation beyond guessing. BUT! We can notice something! So far, with the exception of compound words, we have that our translation is lining up exactly with the English text. Let's just extend this, taking to account obvious compounds. "Galun" is likely "please," "ga'an is likely "do not," and "kirbash" is likely "speak." (An interesting tidbit is that a more direct translation of "galun" under my hypothesis would be "do kindly" or similar, but "do kindly do not..." does not scan well). The same for Gesh's minced grammar.

To summarize my guess: With "Ga'an" meaning "Do not" and "gnu'ur" meaning "young woman," the sentances map 1-to-1 onto their translations, grammar-wise.

This more or less lines up with the previous person's only getting four words right, although with a minor difference in our translations of "ung inga gnu'ur" and "ung gnurya" mean that I am quite possibly wrong in those minor areas.

[imtaashu]

Click📸

(Teaching Him to Use Polaroid Camera 📷 )

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You try to teach Bucky how to use your Polaroid camera. He ends up more interested in taking pictures of you than anything else. One kiss. One photo. That’s all he wants… or so he says.

Genre: Soft Fluff, Domestic Vibes, Clingy!Bucky, Hurt-Your-Teeth Cute

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: None, unless you count excessive pouting and unrelenting affection

💌Author Notes: This one’s pure mush. Like sticky marshmallow fluff on a warm day. Clingy, pouty Bucky, armed with a Polaroid and zero chill, is here to ruin your day in the sweetest way possible. Inspired by the idea of him just wanting something to hold onto when you’re not home. 😭

🩷 Please enjoy — and yes, he will ask for another photo in the middle of the night.

✦ feel free to request more fluffy Bucky things ✦

Based on ✦ this ✦ request.. thank you @buckyismysafehaven 🫶🏻

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────

“you know this isn’t a weapon, right?” you ask softly, raising a brow at bucky, who’s holding the pastel blue polaroid camera like it might explode.

“are you sure?” he replies, squinting suspiciously at it “feels like it’s got a mind of its own.”

you giggle, gently pushing his arms down “babe. it’s literally made of plastic.”

“so are landmines in cartoons.”

“okay, soldier,” you tease, taking it from his hands and showing him, slowly “this is the lens. this is the shutter. this button here—”

he cuts in, voice low and all heart-eyed “you’re really hot when you go all teacher mode, y’know that?”

“bucky.”

“sorry.” (not sorry at all.)

⸻

ten minutes later, he’s already used half the film.

not one photo of furniture like you suggested.

just you.

you tying your hair up.

you reaching for the remote.

you laughing with your head thrown back, nose scrunching just right.

“you were supposed to practice with objects, not your emotionally-unavailable girlfriend,” you say, flopping dramatically onto the couch.

he hums, carefully tucking the latest photo into his wallet “the couch doesn’t smell like vanilla and steal my hoodies.”

you peek over. “what are you doing with that one?”

“backup.”

“backup??”

“yeah. in case you go to the grocery store without me again and i spiral.”

⸻

click. you blink. “did you just take one without asking?”

he smiles, slow and sleepy, cradling the photo like it’s treasure.

“you looked real soft just now. had to keep it.”

“you can’t just collect pictures of me like—like trading cards.”

“why not?”

“because i probably look weird in half of them!”

he walks over, lifts your chin with gentle fingers “you’ve never looked weird. not to me.”

twenty minutes later, you’re wrapped in a hoodie that almost eats you alive, legs tangled in a blanket on the couch.

“don’t even think about it,” you mumble, not even opening your eyes.

“i didn’t say anything!”

“you don’t have to. i can feel it. you’re staring at me like i’m a sunrise.”

caught. he pauses, camera halfway to his face “okay, but hear me out: the angle? god-tier. the light? holy. your face? illegal.”

you groan into the pillow “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re breathtaking.”

“that’s not gonna get you another picture.”

“…worked seventeen times already.”

eventually, he curls up beside you, cheek smushed against your shoulder, arms tucked around your waist.

he’s quiet for a while—just tracing little patterns on your skin then, he whispers, shy “can i take one of you kissing me?”

you blink. “like… a photo?”

he props himself up “yeah. just one.”

you hide under the blanket “nooo, that’s so embarrassing!”

“what? why!”

“i don’t look cute when i kiss. i squint weird.”

he gasps like it’s the most offensive thing he’s ever heard “your kissing face is my favorite face!”

“bucky—”

“i’m serious! that’s the face that says you love me.”

You stay quiet.

he softens, leaning down with a pout so genuine it borders on tragic.

“baby.”

no response.

“baby please.”

silence.

“you don’t love me.”

you peek out. “bucky.”

“you don’t. that’s why you won’t let me have a picture. my heart is broken. i might cry. this is the end of bucky barnes as we know him.”

you start laughing.

he immediately flops into your lap with a dramatic groan.

“just one photo of my girl loving me. is that so much to ask?”

“you’re a menace.”

“i’m your menace.”

finally, you give in. one kiss. one photo.

he sits up straighter than a soldier, camera ready, eyes wide and sparkling like he’s about to meet santa.

you lean in. kiss him softly.

click. his lashes flutter. His hands tremble slightly as he gently fans the developing photo, like it’s sacred.

and when the image comes in?

he just whispers, barely audible “…wow.”

later that night, while he’s asleep, you find the photo tucked into his wallet next to his dog tags.

you trace your thumb over it and smile.

he stirs, catches you looking.

“needed something to hold onto when you’re not home,” he murmurs.

“bucky, i was gone for ten minutes today.”

“and they were the longest ten minutes of my life.”

next morning, there’s a new polaroid stuck to the bathroom mirror.

you, fast asleep, curled into his chest on the back, in his boyish handwriting

“this is what peace looks like.”

and when you roll your eyes and tell him he’s obsessed?

he grins without missing a beat

“with you? yeah. obviously.”

-end

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

super super random but I was rewatching wall-e today (as one does) and omg why is no doubt jake so wall-e coded 😭😭 the entire movie i could not stop thinking abt no doubt jake they're just so puppy like following yn / eve around and doing anything to impress them and put a smile on their face like pls tell me im not crazy and that you see it too 😭

oh my GOD ANON WAIT this is SO CUTE I NEVER EVEN THOUGHT ABT IT THEY'RE SOOOOO WALL E x EVE CODED you're 100% right im freaking out. also thanks to you i'm literally watching wall-e as i type this up...and tell me why i never realized how FUNNY it is and how DOWNBAD wall-e is??? i wasn't planning on making this an entire offiicial post but now im watching this movie and getting inspired LOLLL wall-e is just so damn cute </3

──── JAKE & YN x WALL-E & EVE <3 ↳ requested // headcanon // part of the no doubt series !

EVERY TIME YOU SAY HIS NAME:

you know that scene where wall-e literally melts in adoration when eve says his name for the first time?

oh yeah.

that's no doubt!jake. 100%.

everytime you say his name is like music to his ears. might as well be the sounds of heaven's gates opening for the first time.

you say jake, and suddenly he's smiling like a lovesick dummy.

you say jake, and he just internally melts. completely liquifies.

you say jake, and his back straightens like a little soldier ready to serve.

and you know it too.

you know the effect on him—hence why you never call him by any pet names or nicknames like he does with you. his name alone is enough to get him twisted all around your finger.

and don't even get me started for when you say his full government name.

the second sim jaeyun slips from your mouth, or any other variation—like jaeyunnie, yunie, etc—

yup.

he passes out.

heart emojis flying out of his ears and all.

KEEPS EVERY LITTLE TRINKET:

wall-e collecting random little treasures and does a lil show & tell to impress eve?

no doubt!jake has an entire box dedicated to you.

he keeps everything you've ever given him.

the movie ticket stub from one of your first dates? it's laminated.

the note you wrote him on a sticky note when you made him lunch to bring to the studio one day? it's folded and tucked into his wallet.

he made a scrapbook of screenshots from your text convos from before you started dating. entirely unprompted. it's called 'the beginning of us'

you found a heart-shaped rock once on a picnic date.

it still sits on his desk.

to this day.

LOVES TO JUST WATCH & OBSERVE YOU:

the scene where wall-e follows eve around and just watches her do her work and he's practically in love???

OH that's SOOO no doubt!jake coded.

he LOVES to watch you do anything.

and i mean ANYTHING.

doing the dishes? he sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island, cheek resting in palm, eyes glazed over like a complete loser in love.

(because he is one)

doing homework? he's on your bed, way too invested in the way your eyes blink twice in a row whenever you're confused, or the way you bite your lip in concentration.

doing your makeup?

'jakey, you're staring again.'

'can't help it, baby, you look too good.'

BUYS YOU EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING, EVEN WITHOUT ASKING:

when you go grocery shopping, no doubt!jake just simply follows behind you.

anytime you pick up any snack or drink you seem slightly bit interested in but end up putting back, jake quietly puts it in the shopping cart without saying anything.

you pick up a drink. read the label. hum in curiosity.

then you...put it back?

jake notices.

jake retrieves.

jake puts it in the cart.

your eyes linger too long at the new snack display?

boom.

into the cart it goes.

cut to when you guys get to check out, you turn around and—

the cart is full.

'jake.'

'what.'

'we don't need all these snacks.'

'yeah, but i know you want them. don't worry. groceries on me this week.'

'you say that every week.'

WHEN YOU'RE UPSET OR MAD:

like when eve shuts down completely and wall-e's trying his best to take care of her? umbrella, sunblock, literally guarding her with his entire being?

no doubt!jake makes sure you're 100% taken care of, even when you're not in the best mood.

he will sit quietly beside you like a sad puppy, offering snacks, cuddles, drinks, forehead kisses—anything

'i brought you a blanket. it's the soft one. you like the soft one, right? should i heat it up in the dryer? i can heat it up in the dryer—'

he just wants you to be okay.

even if you're upset at him—

he doesn't even care if you can't forgive him just yet.

he just wants to make sure you're okay.

DOES THE LITTLEST THINGS IN HOPES OF IMPRESSING YOU:

no doubt!jake would wake up extra early to buy your favorite drink at the local cafe near the apartment.

and of course—he memorized your order.

iced peach latte, 70% sugar, less ice, plastic straws only. no exceptions.

he's had it down since week two of dating you.

and hasn't messed it up once.

even when he has to leave for the studio before you're up—

you wake up to your drink in the fridge, a sticky note attached to the lid:

'rise & shine, pretty <3 i love you more than you love your iced peach lattes.'

no doubt!jake builds random creations out of whatever lego set the two of you just finished building together.

you're probably cleaning up, tossing the leftover pieces into the box when suddenly—

'baby, baby, look!'

both his hands are holding up a little...

spaceship?

duck?

a lopsided house?

you lift a brow.

then, you look past the lump in his hands and at his beaming, proud, face and—

'i love it, jakey. you're so creative.'

he falls asleep with the mutant duck-ship-house on the nightstand next to his side of the bed.

with a smile on his face.

no doubt m. list

tag list! pt. 1 (open)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[iamgonnagetyouback]

WHO'S CAT IS THAT? — 1.2K words

꒰🍮꒱ ! IN WHICH theodore’s love language is apologizing to cats he thinks are you

warnings/tags ・・[cat animagus!reader], established relationship, theodore emotionally dumping on a cat which is not you, theodore cheating on you with another cat, loads of fluff and embarassed!theodore author's note ・・everyone thank mora ( @lov3notts ) for proofreading and helping me with the ending. ilysm <3

You wouldn’t even consider what happened a fight. It was just a civil exchange of passive-aggressive comments — with a touch of glaring. But apparently Theodore thought differently because when he saw a ginger cat with bright golden eyes staring at him as if he'd personally insulted its entire existence, he assumed the cat was you. In his defense, the look was the same one you gave him when he did something particulary― well, him and, to be fair, you did have a habit of turning into your animagus form after any argument.

So, you couldn’t really blame him if he brought the said cat to his dorm and spent an hour apologizing to it and telling it how much of an idiot he was — which, honestly, you’d been saying for weeks.

He even took out the treat box he kept for you for when you were especially moody, offering the cat a single piece as a peace offering.

The cat sniffed the treat and after giving Theodore a nasty glare, swatted at his hand which caused it to drop.

"Okay, I deserve that. I was a prat. Actually, I am a prat. And I shouldn't have called you mad even though you were acting like it."

That earned him a single slow blink — the kind that might’ve meant "I accept your apology" or "I’m plotting your demise." Honestly, with you, it was usually both.

"I'm guessing you're planning my downfall?" The reply was a full-bodied tail flick to the face, followed by the cat turning around and walking off to sit — very pointedly — with its back to him. Theodore sighed, his head in his hands. "Yeah, that tracks."

The door creaked open, grabbing both his and the cat’s attention. They turned in unison to see Blaise walk in, casually eating an apple. "Hey, you seen Y/N?"

Theodore gestured at the cat who had now taken an interest in staring at the apple and jumped off the bed to rub against Blaise's leg. Blaise frowned. "That’s not her. That’s Derek Avery’s cat."

"No, Zabini. It’s Y/N," Theodore sighed, scooping the cat back into his arms. "See? It even has that round spot she has above her—"

He paused. Blinked. Searched the fur.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the obviously not there spot. "Yup. That’s your girlfriend."

"Where did the mark go?" Theodore muttered, parting the cat’s fur like it would magically reappear. He rotated the cat until they were eye to eye.

"...You’re not my girlfriend. You’re just some local cat."

As if the cat had just realized its true identity, it scratched Theodore across the face, hissed loudly, and leapt out of his arms.

"I—okay. So that obviously wasn’t her. So where the hell is she?" He asked, turning to Blaise.

Blaise shrugged as he took a loud bite of his apple. "I don't know but what I do know is you’ve been emotionally dumping on Derek Avery’s cat for an hour." He chuckled.

"Oh my god. Stai zitto, Zabini."

"He’s been putting up posters, Nott." He laughed so hard he almost choked on his apple. "He even wrote a letter to his parents."

"Who wrote a letter to their parents?" Pansy asked as she walked in with you.

Theodore froze as he took you in. Blaise’s eyes widened in glee as if he'd just been told he scored an O in Potions.

You were standing in the doorway, completely unbothered, holding a butterbeer and raising an eyebrow at the scene.

The real you.

"You’re not a cat," Theodore said dumbly at which Blaise burst out laughing.

"Not at the moment, no," You said, taking a sip. "Why? And why is Blaise laughing as if he's scored an O in Potions?"

"He’s an idiot," Theodore muttered, shooting Blaise a glare — which only made him laugh harder.

You took one look around the room — the treat box, tufts of orange fur, and even more clinging to Theodore’s shirt — and gasped. "You brought another cat over?" You exclaimed, placing a hand over your heart like the betrayal had physically wounded you. "After everything we’ve been through? Another cat, Theodore?"

"It wasn’t like that," He said quickly, still half-hidden by the door where he had hidden from the embarassment. "I thought it was you!"

“You thought that was me?” You gestured vaguely toward the empty bed like the ghost of the cat was still lounging there in smug satisfaction.

"She gave me the look!"

Blaise, wheezing from the edge of the bed, said, "You know, the one you use when he breathes too confidently."

Pansy chuckled.

You turned back to Theodore, expression utterly scandalized. "So you see a ginger cat with ‘the look’ and your first instinct is to bring it home and give it my snacks from my treat box?"

"That sounds so much worse when you say it like that—"

"It is worse!" You cried, gesturing like you were in a court. "I trusted you! I thought our weird animagus-coded thing meant something!"

From behind the door, Theodore groaned. "Oh my god, I’m never going to live this down."

"I can't believe this." You cried as Pansy reached over to awkwardly pat your shoulder.

"There, there. It's gonna be okay." She smiled at your obvious fake cries.

Theodore in complete panic mode jumped over to you, "I'm so sorry, amore. I swear it didn't mean anything."

"You promise?" You looked up at him through your lashes.

"I promise." He gave you a soft smile, voice a little too earnest for someone still covered in cat fur. "I don’t care how many ginger cats glare at me — there’s only one I ever want to apologize to for the rest of my life."

You stood, arms crossed and chin tilted like a queen preparing to issue her terms. "Fine. I suppose I can forgive you."

His shoulders sagged in relief.

"But only if you refill my treat box." You poked his chest lightly. "With the fancy salmon ones. The expensive kind."

Theodore let out a quiet laugh, already reaching for his coin pouch. "Anything else, Your Highness?"

You smirked. "A foot massage. And maybe a sincere letter of apology. Written in verse."

"I’m starting to think that cat got off easy."

"Merlin," Pansy muttered as she looked at you both with a glare or love, you could never tell. "You two are exhausting. Disgustingly cute, but exhausting."

"Thank you, Pans." You smiled at her as she started, "That was not a compl-" but was interuppted by the obnoxious noise of Blaise wailing.

"You two are so cute." He sobbed, "And he has a treat box for you." He cried harder. "I’d tattoo ‘do not feed’ on her if I were you," Blaise added, sniffling slightly. "Right across the fur where that spot is."

You huffed. "Bold of you to assume you’ll ever see me as a cat again."

Theodore, who had spaced out a bit as if in deep thinking, blinked. "Wait. So that wasn’t you in the courtyard last week?”

A beat of silence.

"…No."

"Oh my god," Pansy whispered, scandalized. Blaise burst into tearful laughter as Theodore turned beet red, and you grinned.

"Guess you’ve got some apologizing to do to another cat too."

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[skullamity]

An important aspect of this that OP hinted at but didn't expand upon, so I will:

Humans brains are pattern seeking, and this applies to both visual and narrative forms of art. It's the reason why, when you watch a show or a movie and you get so excited about what you think is going to happen that you might feel compelled to pause and turn to the person you're watching with and say "oh shiit, I am connecting the dots, and I think that (twist!) is going to happen!" and when that twist does happen? You feel great! And you feel great because you've basically solved a puzzle. Solving puzzles feels good, and this is actually one of my favourite things about watching tv and movies! I love to keep score!

When you are reading a webcomic or subscribed to a multi chapter original story online, and you email the author to tell them what YOU think should happen next, because it would feel narratively satisfying, you are putting the author in a very awkward position.

An author lays down breadcrumbs for their audience because they WANT you to guess, they want you to be trying to solve the puzzle, and they want you to feel rewarded because you figured it out! You're not telling them anything new by contacting them, you're just letting them know that you followed the trail they were leading you down! But the catch is, if you email me and tell me "hey so this should happen, it would make so much sense if this happened, please consider making it go here" and it was already going there, that was already the plan, and I have been carefully planting clues and setting up this payoff, I am now in a bit of a predicament.

Because if I write the story as intended, the way I was setting it up? That was all me. I planned this. But now I have you back in my emails saying "I'm SO happy that you took my advice! The payoff was so good! But I was a little disappointed to see that you didn't leave a note for your readers about where that idea came from. I'm not asking for money, just credit, you know?" and if I don't respond to that, or I respond and say "look, this twist was in my plans a year before you emailed me and your email had zero influence on my decision to take it in this direction" you are now emailing me, pissed off, and either subtly or outright suggesting that maybe you actually DO deserve some compensation, because I am making money off of "your" idea.

Or maybe you're not emailing me again, maybe you're shit talking me on social media and encouraging people who have expressed interest in my work to skip it, because the story might be good but I'm a bad person who takes advantage of my readers.

It isn't wrong to love something so much that you become invested in it, and it isn't wrong to be so invested in something that you have opinions about where it's going and what should happen. But that doesn't mean that you should ever contact the author directly and tell them what to do! Any time I have ever had someone email me about where they thought my comic should go narratively, it has never been a peer, it has never been solicited, and it has NEVER been appreciated.

If I want advice? I will ask people who have the skill sets and experience to pull off what I'm trying to do, and they will, most importantly, be people that I already know, talk to and trust! A reader is welcome to their opinions on where they think I should be focusing and what I need to work on, but that's none of my business and they should never contact me to tell me about it. I am not obligated to take any of it into consideration, even if they are being super nice about it!

And I get that this makes me sound ungrateful, which is frustrating because I actually really love it when I can look at comments left on comic pages and see what people are predicting and watch them celebrating if they were right! It's so good! I am not ungrateful! But if you email me like this, you are putting me in a position where I will have to play that part to make it clear to you that we do not know each other and you have no say or influence, past present or future, in where this story goes. I don't want to be mean to my audience! But I also need to draw clear boundaries between them and myself for a miriad of reasons, you know?

a very gentle PSA that a writer is not a short-order cook, please do not try to order off the menu

[mooningningg]

 notes, i was actually chuckling at myself. ty anon for requesting

★ Roommate!Sukuna when someone hits on you with him.

You were just comparing the backs of two cereal boxes.

Really. That’s all.

You and Sukuna had run out of coffee creamer and got distracted in the cereal aisle. You were bickering about marshmallow-to-grain ratios like civilized adults when Sukuna walked off to grab eggs and left you behind.

Now here you were, alone, mid-comparison, when a guy sidled up beside you.

Not aggressively. Just… with a little too much confidence for someone in a Walmart.

He gestured to the cereal in your hand and said, “You know that one has more sugar than the one you’re holding?”

You blinked.

“…Yeah, that’s why I picked it.”

He laughed. The kind of laugh that people do when they’re trying too hard. “You’re funny. That your favorite?”

You didn’t answer right away. There wasn’t anything threatening about him — just annoying. Vaguely frat-boy energy in board shorts and a fake chain. He leaned in a little.

“You know,” he said, flashing a grin, “I was actually gonna say something earlier when you passed the produce section. Couldn’t help noticing your smile.”

Jesus Christ.

You gave a polite, tight smile. “Thanks.”

“Got a name, pretty girl?”

You were about to lie and say “Tax Fraud” when—

“The fuck’s goin’ on here?”

A voice cut in. Low, scratchy, and pissed.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Sukuna was back.

And he was standing behind you with a carton of eggs in one hand, a frozen bag of fries in the other, and a look on his face like he was ready to use either as a weapon.

The guy glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Uh—hey, man. Just talkin’ to her—”

“Yeah?” Sukuna cocked his head. “Looks more like you’re talkin’ at her.”

You tried to step in, raise a hand. “It’s fine—”

Sukuna didn’t look at you. Didn’t blink. He took a step forward, close enough that the guy had to instinctively lean back.

“She look interested to you?”

“Woah, okay—” the guy laughed awkwardly, taking a visible step away. “Didn’t mean to disrespect—”

Sukuna gave a humorless snort. “Disrespect?” he echoed, loud enough to make an old lady from aisle six poke her head around. His tone was slow, like he was tasting the word and hating every syllable. “Nah. See, disrespect is when you bump someone in line and don’t say ‘scuse me.’”

He stepped closer. The eggs in his hand were tilted sideways now, as if he had no problem letting them crash to the floor if things went south. “What you just did?” His grin spread, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “That’s some ‘I wanna die in aisle seven’ type shit.”

The guy laughed nervously, eyes darting toward you. “I didn’t know she was with anyone—”

“You don’t need to know,” Sukuna said, voice low, like a fuse being lit. “You see someone standing alone, you keep walkin’. You don’t roll up with your Dollar Tree smile and ask her what cereal she likes.”

You winced. Ouch.

“Bro, it’s not that serious—”

“Don’t ‘bro’ me,” Sukuna snapped, finally breaking eye contact with the man long enough to glance at you. His voice dipped. “You good?”

You blinked. “I—yeah. I was just looking at cereal—”

His eyes flicked back to the guy. “Yeah? She was looking at cereal. Not you.”

The dude threw his hands up. “Alright man, alright. My bad. Enjoy your, uh… whatever this is.”

He turned, practically sprinted out of the aisle, knocking into a soup display on his way out. A can rolled across the tile floor like a dramatic punctuation mark.

Silence.

You blinked at Sukuna. He still looked vaguely pissed. He glanced down at the eggs in his hand like he was debating whether or not to chase the guy and throw them.

Instead, he tossed them into the basket and finally turned toward you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You can’t threaten people in public just because they talk to me.”

“He flirted with you.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

The words came out too fast. Too serious. Even he looked surprised he said them.

You paused, one eyebrow raised. “We’re just roommates, you know.”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, yeah. You tell everyone that.”

“I am everyone.”

He scoffed, reaching for a box of cereal and dropping it in your cart without looking. “Shut up.”

You glanced at the box.

It was the one you wanted.

You smiled to yourself and didn’t say a word.

But damn, you were never grocery shopping without him again.

Taglist, @humeysaga.

[hyunles]

Overtime | H. HJ.

pairing: ceo!hyunjin x fem!reader word count: 3,7k genre: smut. +18, MDNI cw: no proofread, explicit wording, boss x employee relationship, kissing, couch sex, oral (f.), fingering, creampie, breast sucking, penetration, unprotected sex (pls don't), brief dirty talk, male whimpering, a lot of moaning. Let me know if I missed something! notes: hyunjin in suit always makes me go feral godddd, he's so handsome as always, english is not my first language, pls consider on giving feedback (in the kindest way possible) taglist and requests are open, feel free to ask! have a nice reading <3

It was time for you to fulfill another of your New Year's resolutions: Get a new job.

As a recent graduate, it was a little difficult for you since everyone asked for a twenty-year-old with thirty years of experience, but you always did your best at job interviews.

Today you were supposed to go to a job interview at a law firm. Your position? Nothing fancy, just the CEO assistant.

Naturally, you were nervous. He was the one interviewing you, so you really hoped to not embarrass yourself.

As you made your way to the entrance of the big building, you could feel your heart rate start to rise. No. You had to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, you got onto the elevator and pressed the needed button. Eight floor.

You reviewed your resume, which wasn't that impressive. You also reviewed a few lines your mother had said would help you a long time ago, when you were in middle school, but they could work now.

The elevator came to a stop and you got out, walking until you reached the office. His office.

You could hear people arguing inside, that made your brows furrow, but you decided to knock either way since it was already the time you were called.

The words stopped and a male voice said something inaudible before a guy about your age walked out, fuming in anger.

"Come in." The same male voice called you.

Your boss. Hwang Hyunjin.

You nodded and walked inside. "Good evening. I'm the applicant for the assistant position." You said and immediately handed him your resume.

He hummed, reading quickly but carefully. "Take a seat." He nodded to the chair across his desk, where you sat a few seconds later.

"A chef at a sushi restaurant and a barista at a cafe? How did you end up here?" Hyunjin said without tearing his eyes away from the paper.

"Everyone is asking for years of experience that are impossible for someone my age. And in your ad, you were asking for an assistant between 25 and 30 years old." You explained calmly, hoping he couldn't notice your nervousness.

"Okay, a 25 year old… Are you organized? Can you handle stress?"

You immediately nodded. "Yes sir, I can, totally. I'm very good at it."

"Good."

Silence again, just the sound of the CEO flipping through the few pages of your resume.

"I want you in my team. If you're interested, you start tomorrow." He said with his serious voice.

Your eyes widened a bit as you smiled ever so slightly. "Thanks sir, that really means a lot."

"It is full time. Monday to Friday from nine to five, an hour of lunch at two, I'd maybe need you to stay overtime but I always notify you in advance." He started. "You have social security and a month of paid vacation when you choose it, and a small bonus at the end of the year. Is that okay with you?"

You were immediately surprised. Was that really true?

"Definitely! More than I expected, actually."

"Good. You can start tomorrow morning. See you tomorrow." He nodded and stood up. "I'll take you to the door."

You’ve been working there for a few months now, and everything had been going smoothly. The office was well-organized, and you had made friends with some of the employees.

You've heard rumours about how Hyunjin had a reputation for being strict, cold, and downright intimidating when angry. And he definitely was like that with everyone. Everyone but you for some reason.

Of course, he was still firm, but there was something softer beneath his gaze when he looked your way, a glint of interest that left you wondering. He’d often call you to his office, offering a thousand excuses —small, irrelevant things that could have been handled over email.

Today started off as an average day in the office, any given Friday. You found yourself in the office kitchen, making coffee, when suddenly your phone buzzed. It was Hyunjin.

"I need you in my office. Now."

With a quiet sigh, you put your coffee down, feeling a slight tremor of nerves dance in your stomach. You knew it was never just a simple request with him. And you always were a bit nervous because of all the rumours even when he was softer with you.

As you entered his office, the air felt heavy. Hyunjin was seated behind his desk, his sharp eyes locking onto you the moment you stepped inside. The look on his face was one of irritation, though you weren’t sure if it was because of something you did or something else

“What took you so long? I asked you to bring me an important file yesterday." He said with the severe voice you've grown accustomed to.

"The files on Mr. Kim's trial? I left them on your desk and texted you at nine." You replied calmly but firmly as you always did. Careful.

He frowned, rummaging through the numerous files he had on his desk —or pretending to—, and quickly finding the folder.

You started to think he just called because he wanted to see you. But you immediately shook those thoughts aside.

"Right… Well, now that you're here, I have to ask you something." He said, gesturing you to sit on the chair across his desk.

"The lawyers' dinner is on your agenda, right?" He didn't even wait for you to answer. "I need you to go with me and take notes."

You frowned slightly in confusion but nodded anyway. "But it's tonight."

"Do you have something to do?" He immediately asked, leaning against his desk with a serious expression.

"Not really but you should've-"

"I want you there at six in the fanciest clothes you have." He said firmly, not leaving room for discussion.

You sighed quietly and nodded, standing up. "I'll be there."

He didn't say anything.

You stepped back.

"If you don't have anything else to say to me, I'll go." You waited until he nodded and walked out of the office.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

17:20

Of course you were ready. You needed to leave now if you wanted to make it on time.

The outfit wasn't very impressive. Just a black dress with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, knee-length. Also, some low heels and black, thin tights.

Nothing very revealing but not simple either. The few jewels giving it a plus.

You walked out of your house, where your taxi was already waiting. You got in and indicated the driver the address.

After a few minutes, you texted Hyunjin. Just a small message.

"I'm on my way. See you there."

A simple and concise message.

You started to organize your small notebook, getting ready for whatever notes you had to take as Hyunjin said.

That ruined the Friday night —that just implied drinking coffee as you stayed up late drawing or talking with some friends— you had planned.

Either way, you no longer had reason to complain if you were on your way to dinner. A luxurious meal at a 3-star Michelin restaurant. You always thought they were exaggerating too much.

After a few minutes, you arrived at your destiny. You paid and got out of the taxi, walking inside and asking in reception for the table, a big one in a private room.

You were the first, as always. It was 17:50 now, and you had to wait.

You started scheduling the tasks for Monday, both yours and his, killing time.

Suddenly, the door opened. There he was, looking neat as always, you dare to think he looks even better.

White button-up shirt, a black tie, black pants with the usual belt he loved —the one that camouflaged perfectly but also had a subtle golden buckle—, and the glasses he rarely wore and made him look even more professional. His black, short hair was also slicked back, some strands loose, falling perfectly on his forehead.

Hot, you thought. But you immediately shook your head slightly.

"You're early." He stated, taking a seat next to you.

"I like to arrive early. Arriving 10 or 15 minutes early is just in time for me." You explained as you kept writing.

"I like how punctual you are."

You blinked slightly, even stopped writing for a second, but you quickly recomposed.

"I lied to you. I didn't want you to come take notes. I just wanted you here." He said as if it was nothing.

It was definitely anything but nothing.

"Oh…" You mumbled.

"You make me feel more… in control. You help me so much." He continued. "I like it. You keep me grounded with that seriousness of yours. You need to loosen up a bit." He chuckled, leaning closer.

"I'm fine." You simply said, turning your face away just a bit.

He let out a quiet sigh and sat straight again. "Do you even drink?" Hyunjin asked like you were friends.

"I don't like the taste of alcohol." You kept writing.

He snatched your notebook away, smirking. "Leave this. This dinner is supposed to be a… party, so to speak."

"No."

"Come on, you can't be this boring." He teased.

You sighed, looking at your notebook in his hands. He had pretty hands, you've thought that since you met him.

When he was about to make a snarky remark, the chatter of people on the hallway could be heard, he looked at the door.

At least 20 people walked inside, laughing and smiling as they greeted the two of you.

You just smiled slightly and greeted back, memorizing everyone and remembering their last names in case you needed it.

Hyunjin joined the talk soon, his eyes going around the big table before the waiter started taking orders.

The evening reached its peak, everyone was already a bit tipsy, just a few were drunk. People kept coming, you even had to give up your seat to one of the lawyers because he said he was having knee problems.

There were at least 40 people cramped in that medium room. Unexpected guests, people walking around… A total mess.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was having a blast. He talked and talked about the stupid cases he got and won. Obviously, he was slightly tipsy, but he was very composed.

You sighed quietly and excused yourself, walking out of the room, already exhausted and feeling overwhelmed.

You sat down on one of the benches in the small garden outside. You felt calmer, You sat down on one of the benches in the small garden outside. You felt calmer, ready to go back.

But Hyunjin appeared again. It was like he had some magic trick to just pop up wherever you were.

"I'm leaving now. I'm tired. Do you want me to take you home?" He said, smiling. Weird sight, that really gave away the fact that he was tipsy, drunk even.

"You're not driving in this state. I'll take you home." You said, leaving no room for argument.

Hyunjin chuckled. "You noticed?"

"Obviously, you're all red, smiling, and even laughing."

"So you know me…" He whispered as you walked towards the parking lot.

You ignored that comment, shaking your head slightly. Focus.

"This is my car." He said as he grabbed his keys, opening it.

You walked towards the driver's door and extended your hand. He placed the keys on your palm and walked towards the passenger seat.

The drive was quiet, calm. He was very awake, looking out the window.

You were driving calmly, but your mind was going at an outrageous speed.

Thoughts like hot, or he's cute didn't leave your head, you were already stressed.

And his voice didn't help.

"I think I need to wear my glasses daily. My head isn't hurting."

"Funny because you're drunk." You smiled slightly.

He looked at you. "Hey… You're smiling."

That made your eyes go slightly wide. "Wait, you think I never smile?"

"Well…"

"I'm offended." You chuckled, driving calmly.

Hyunjin sighed and leaned his head against the headrest of the seat. Silence returning, slightly tense now.

"You loosen up when I'm drunk." He said.

It caught you off guard.

"You feel more human this way." You murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You always look like a robot. Just work, work, work. I even have to remind you when it's lunch time."

He looked at you with a silly smile. "I need to keep everything in check."

"Not alone. That's why you have me and the other lawyers, the litigation team, everyone. It's not just your job. It's a team effort."

That shut him up, leaving him thinking.

"Text me that please, I want to remember that every day."

You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling over his house. "We're here. Can you walk for yourself?"

"I'm not drunk, just slightly tipsy. I just feel like chuckling."

"Okay." You murmured, getting off the car.

You walked him to his front foor, waiting for him to get inside.

But instead, he opened and leaned against the doorframe.

"How are you going home?"

"I'll take a taxi."

"No."

He didn't even ask when he pulled you inside.

You tried to protest but he quickly shot the door behind you and took off his shoes.

"You're staying with me tonight."

You frowned, taking off your shoes. You knew he wasn't letting you go.

"Where?"

"The guest room. It's spacious."

You nodded as you walked inside, looking around. The house was big, giant for just one person.

"Do you live alone?" You asked, sitting on one of the couches.

"Yes. I used to live with someone but she left. That was 6 years ago anyway." He felt the need to clarify. Why?

"I see."

You started to reorganize your schedule for tomorrow since it'd be difficult to return home in the morning in less than 30 minutes.

He noticed and sat next to you, taking your phone and placing it on the coffee table. "You need to sleep."

"I could say that to you."

"I'm fine."

"You're drunk."

A moment of silence before he looked at you with slight curiosity. "Are you single?" He blurted out.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him. "Why?"

"Just answer."

It took you a moment, but you nodded. "Yeah."

That seemed to please him, making him scoot closer.

Maybe it was the alcohol on his system or the liking he took for her these past months, but he felt bold enough to move his hands towards your waist.

"Hyunjin…" You started but he shushed you quickly.

"You're really pretty." He murmured, making your breath catch. Why was he doing this right now, when he looked so good?

He smiled slightly and cupped your face in his hands, getting closer. So close your breaths mingled together and you could feel the warmness of his body.

"Sir, we shouldn't do this." You murmured, but you didn't move.

"Push me away." He whispered. "Tell me to stop."

You couldn't.

He got closer, noses now brushing.

"I want you. Not just for tonight, but forever. You've made me feel things I never felt…" He murmured, a bit of vulnerability in his voice.

You didn't know what to say, it was like your brain just short-circuited right there and then.

So he took the opportunity and brushed his lips against yours, barely, softly.

"Can I?" Hyunjin whispered.

You nodded.

And that was all the confirmation he needed before kissing you. It was a soft but hungry kiss. You could notice he'd been thinking about it for weeks, months even.

His fingers tangled around your hair as you pulled him closer by the tie. He groaned and pressed himself against you, making you lay down.

Eventually, you broke the kiss in need of air. Quiet gasps and a slight chuckle escaped his mouth. "You're a better kisser than I imagined." He mumbled.

You smiled as your filter and your moral flew away. "Hyun…"

"A nickname? Where's the serious you?" Hyunjin chuckled quietly, kissing down your jawline and neck.

You shivered, tilting your head back as your hands undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

He groaned and helped you with his shirt and pants, already desperate.

"I want you so much…" He whispered, you sighed.

Finally, he started taking off your dress, very gently for his desperation. He was almost admiring you.

"You're so gorgeous…" He whispered, throwing your dress to the floor, kissing down your chest, feeling the texture of your bra with his fingertips.

You could just sigh and move your hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

He smiled and unclipped your bra, immediately taking one of your breasts on his mouth, grinding against you.

You couldn't take it and it was just starting. You arched your body, seeking more contact.

He grabbed your hips and played with the edges of your underwear. You sighed desperately. "Just take them off…"

He chuckled, kissing down your abdomen while pulling your panties down. You were already wet, drenched even.

You squirmed slightly when he kissed your thighs.

"God, so wet for me?" He whispered before licking once, his tongue flattening against your entrance. You moaned, gripping the couch.

He started to lick desperately, almost animalistic. He was so needy for you, like a starved man eating you out. And you could just moan and whimper, keeping his head in place.

He kept his ministrations, now moving his lips towards your clit, sucking gently and licking. You moaned his name like a prayer and buckled your hips up, seeking more contact.

Hyuniin decided to make this more interesting and delicious, since both of you were desperate.

He introduced his middle finger on your entrance, slowly at first, lubricating it. You moaned and moved your hips, begging for him.

"Hyunjin… G-God…" You could just say, it was like all thoughts just disappeared from your brain and the only reasonable thing was him, his fingers on you, his tongue on you.

He started moving his finger until it hit that gummy spot, making you let out a yelp, closing your eyes. The pleasure you were feeling was indescribable.

Hyuniin introduced his ring finger, moving both quickly, out and inside, curling them, making it messy.

His lips and chin were glistening with your arousal, and the sight turned you on even more if that was possible.

"Come on… Good girl…" He whispered as he moved his hand faster. The wet sounds making him groan.

"Fuck… You're so good for me…" He whispered, his other hand moving to his boxers, taking them off. His length was so hard it started to hurt, and he had to pump up a bit to relieve himself before aligning it with your wet pussy. "Can you take me?" He murmured, eyes filled with lust.

You nodded.

He pushed inside, stretching you slowly.

"Goodness…!" You moaned loudly, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He whimpered quietly, filling you up so good. His hips finally made contact with yours and he stayed still for a second, waiting until you grew accustomed to the feeling, the stretch.

"Please… Move…" You could barely whisper. Your mind was clouded with pleasure and your thoughts were only on how good he felt inside you.

His big length twitched, and he started moving, slowly out and suddenly in, that was his pace, making you moan loudly and stealing whimpers from himself.

You'd never expected him to be the loud type, but you weren't complaining.

"Please… Oh God… Please…" He whimpered, moving faster, causing wet sounds. You moaned, loving how he sounded. "Finally… I can have you…" He wasn't even thinking what he was saying, he got so carried away that he no longer thought straight.

With every thrust, you moaned and he whimpered, saying his pleading again and again, hitting that stop repeatedly, making your sight go white.

In a few more thrusts, his hips stuttered. He was close, and so were you.

"I'm gonna…" You whispered.

"Yes baby, come for me. Come with me…" He mumbled, letting out a soft moan. His head falling on your shoulder, kissing there softly.

And finally, you felt it forming more persistently down in your stomach. You were about to cum. Your moans were unstoppable, with absolutely no filter.

He bit your shoulder, moaning quietly but loud enough for you to hear and take you over the edge.

With that, you came, and seconds later, you felt his release filling you up.

Your legs trembled, your body felt weak.

That was the best sex you had in your life, and you were probably going to regret it in the morning. But who cares when your boss just gave you the best orgasm in your entire life, right?

You were panting, cleaning your sweat away. He stayed inside you for a second before sliding out carefully, he didn't want to overstimulate you.

"You're so good at everything, I'm impressed…" He murmured, kissing you again, gently now, lovingly.

You broke the kiss reluctantly. "You won't regret it?"

"No. Never."

You smiled, kissing him softly.

"Let's take a bath." He murmured against your lips.

Two months had already passed since that messy night. You two kept your professional facades but, outside of the building, you two went on dates, getting to know each other.

Obviously you never wanted a one-night-stand, and neither did he. He was an absolute romantic, lover of cheesy things. You could've never guessed since he always kept his serious facade, but you were happy that you were the one who got to see that side of him.

Today you were answering mails as always when you got a message from Hyunjin.

"Are you free today?"

"For you always ;)"

"Good. I need to see you at the park after work. 6:30, without delays."

"Okay, Mr. Mistery."

With that, you left your phone on your desk again, now a bit more nervous.

But you knew, whatever it was, whatever he wanted to talk about, it was going to be something good. You knew him better now, and you knew he was planning something romantic. He's been weird for days, not calling you after work, nothing, but acting like a highschooler in love.

You knew, whatever it was, you loved him, flaws and all. He was the perfect person for you.

And you were the perfect person for him.

ᝰ.ᐟ Reblogs and likes are very appreciated. If you liked this, please consider them!

Thanks for reading!

── 2025, hyunles ⋆ No translations, rewrites, or reposts allowed.

[sleazy4shiu]

Its what mentors do

cw: threesome (Ino Takuma & Kento Nanami), oral (m & f receiving), rough[ish], creampie, dominant Nanami, implied aphrodisiac ;)

(I feel like this may be perchance out of charcter but tell me Nanami isn't a secret freak sooo)

Being Kento Nanami’s wife was a breeze. He let you stay home and explore your hobbies and interests while he provided for the family—no complaints from you—and did the heavy lifting of being a jujutsu sorcerer. You greet him at the door after a late night of working overtime. You kiss him gingerly, hugging him tightly.

“Mm, I missed you, Ken,” you murmur against his chest. He chuckles, kissing the top of your head

“Missed you too, baby.” he holds you tighter.

“Uhm, I'm right here, you know?” a voice called from behind Nanami’s looming frame

“Uhm, Ken? Why is your student here?” you asked, letting go of him to face Ino Takuma. He grinned sheepishly.

“Erm—I assume she didn’t know I was coming,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck against the door frame.

“Yeah—I’m sorry, my love. The last train had already left when work was finally done. Can he spend the night here?” Nanami asked, kissing your wedding ring. Ino chuckled, weirded out by his usually stoic teacher, who was whipped for his wife.

“Fine—he can stay,” you quip. I made dinner; it’s enough for all of you guys,” you smile softly. Kento kissed you for a final time and led Ino inside as you set the table and prepped the food.

As everyone ate, there was the usual small talk of how you are and what you are doing, and as everyone finished up, you grabbed the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen to wash. Kento followed. You smiled as you rinsed the dishes, feeling his muscular arms wrap around your waist. You glanced at Ino in the living room,

“Ken—quit, we have company” you giggled in a hushed voice

“Mm, don’t care, he can learn a thing or two from us”, he whispered seductively into your ear, his hands grabbing you tightly.

“Huh?” you asked, leaning into his touch lovingly.

“He told me he didn’t have much experience,” Kento replied, kissing the crest of your ear reverently.

“Why the hell would he tell you? And why is that relevant?” you replied, your hands resting on his around your waist as he swayed you playfully.

“It was over some drunk conversations. Maybe…he can learn from us…” He tested the waters, his lips pressed against your ear.

“You're serious? You're such a freak,” you laughed, smiling playfully.

“Dead serious, baby—wouldn’t it be fun?” he asked his lip quirking in a slight smirk

“Fine,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. But deep down, butterflies were flying in your stomach, excited for this unexpected, new revelation. He picked you up, carrying you like a sack of flour over his shoulder, eliciting a yell from you: “Ken! You're insane! What’s gotten into you? " You screech, laughing. He carried you to the couch that Inos was sitting on.

“Mr. Nanami?” his brows quirked up, and he looked bewildered. “What are you doing?” he shrilled.

“You said you didn’t have much experience; here’s your experience,” Kento replied, simply tossing you down onto the couch. You and Ino both shared a collective glance at what the hell was happening.

“I-I dunno man that’s your wife for christs sake,” Ino squeeked, rubbing his brow nervously like this was some test to see if he’d fall for it.

“She said it was fine, right, my love?” Nanami glances at you. You were conflicted and wondering what the hell your husband drank to make him act so out of character… but you weren’t complaining. Ino was young, and though he lacked your husband's maturity, he had a charm that made you throw caution to the wind, so you nodded in agreement. “Ino, just watch and take notes,” Kentos' dominating presence looming in the room

Nanami then approached you, settling on his knees and looking up at you like you were his goddess. His hands settled on your knees as he kissed your legs softly, and your hands settled into his already disheveled hair. You still were stiff, but his motions were quickly loosening you up. His hands travelled up to your lower stomach, where your waistband was.

“Baby, are you comfortable with me taking these off?” he asked, kissing your leg. You nodded quickly. “Take note Ino, you always ask for consent” he said shifting your pants off as Ino stared intently and shifted in his seat as his dick began to harden in his pants. Nanami's hands immediately went to your underwear, you kicked your pants off your ankles, and shifted up so he could take your panties off. He moved his mouth toward your clothed cunt kissing it gazing up at you lovingly. His teeth gripped the band of your panties, and he tore them down, causing you to giggle.

“Ken, Jesus! What’s gotten into you,” you laugh as he spreads your folds and immediately licks a bold stripe up your pussy. You tilt your head back “shit—“ you whine.

“Now Ino, you must make sure you stimulate the clit, but also around it too” Kento instructs while lapping up your juices. Ino was almost too starstruck to reply, his mouth lay agape as he stared at the sight of you.

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, adjusting his pants. Nanami continued his assault on your cunt your moans increasing in their volume, finally you groaned out. “fuck ken—i’m gonna cum, can i cum please baby,” your back arched up legs gently trembling.

"fine by me love" Kento smirked up from his place on your cunt. Your body trembled as your climax reached over you in agonizing waves of pure pleasure. You began to settle, attempting to calm your breathing down.

"Fuck-" you breathlessly exhaled sitting up.

"Ah ah ah," Kento tutted, chastising you gently. He pushed you back down. "Don't you think Ino wants in on some action?" he asked, looking over at the terribly aroused boy.

"I-I guess that is true," you mumbled, looking at him.

"Now, my beautiful, perfect, immaculate wife," he mumbled, kissing your thighs in between each compliment. You can pick where you want him, let him gain some experience," he said against your skin. You looked at Ino, his gaze shying away from your gaze.

"Hmm, such a hard decision, so many options," you batted your lashes at him sultrily.

"Oh, I know love," Kento replied in a lustful tone on his tongue. "I want him in me," you decided on. Gazing at the two boys who stared at you like you were god come down.

"You heard the lady," Kento instructed, standing up in front of you. Now, where do you want me? You direct me all you want, love," he smiled smugly.

"In my mouth?" Your tone does not match the dirty words coming from your mouth.

Wasting no time, the two men positioned themselves. They stripped your shirt and quickly did the same with their clothes. You laid your ass arched up and Ino taking his nervous spot behind you, while your husband sat in front of you. Ino began to slip in his dick causing Nanami to tut

"Now, Ino, why so quick? Tease her a little, turn her on more," he instructed. Ino quickly listened pulling back and tapping his dick against your bare cunt causing you to yelp and laugh softly your face directly in line of Nanami's dick. After he teased you enough to Kentos' approval, he finally began to slip himself in. You gasped softly at the sensation.

"Fuck—Ino" you whined. As he pushed his thick length into your sopping pussy.

"Cmon, love, don't leave me hanging, hm?" Kento chuckled.

"Oh! Right," you giggled. You then spit onto his dick and began to stroke it gingerly with your hand.

"Thereee you go," Kento grinned. Ino began to thrust slowly in and out of you trying to keep it together and not to cum to quick. You started to lick up his dick teasingly gazing up in his eyes. "Angle your thrusts more deeply," Kento told him. Ino quickly adapted soon thrusting into you so deeply and intense tears were brimming in your eyes as you put Nanami's cock deeper into your mouth. Inos' hands desperately gripped at your hips, leaving red marks in his wake, as he began to thrust more erratically, as you started clenching down on him.

"oh—fuck—my god please just like that!" you blubbered out from around Nanami's dick. Your hands gripping Nanami's thigh harshly as you felt another orgasm beginning to build. Nanami's hand grasped your hair tightly as he pushed you down on his dick fucking your face.

"Ah—shit Nanami im gonna cum, fuck can I? inside?" Ino asked, whining as he was approaching his climax.

"Well not before her—thats not very gentleman like," Nanami quipped while fucking your head down on his cock. "Rub her clit," Nanami guided, and Ino did as he was told beginning to rub your clit causing you to moan around Kento. In turn, he let out a deep guttural groan finishing in your mouth. He let you up from his cock and smiled fucked stupid as you swallowed his cum. Your orgasm was approaching fast especially with Inos added attention on your clit.

"Shit—im gonna cum" you groaned out your mouth going agape, as you clenched up the extra pressure made your orgasm hit you like a truck. You let out a final exhausted whine, slumping into the couch as Ino pulled out and Kento pulled your head onto his thighs.

"Ino, get her a towel to wipe her off with; it's in the cabinet," Nanami instructed. Ino returned and gently spread her legs to wipe her down. "Ask her if she's okay," Kento tutted.

"Oh, right, how are you feeling?" Ino asked. You let up a tired thumbs-up, making the men laugh. Ino finished wiping you down, and he gently kissed your cheek, making Kento smile. "Thanks for this, Mr.Nanami; it helped a lot," Ino grinned cheekily.

"Yeah, yeah, isn't that what mentors are for?" Kento replied, gently running his hand through your hair.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tysm for the love on my last post and its inspired me to write more :p

(also im down to clown for asks and requests)

[rainrot4me]

what if reader did some digging and showed the creeps and proxies their embarrassing pictures?

like, Jeff's origin picture, Hoody's drunk selfies back in college, BEN's middle school pictorial, Clockwork's cringy braces back in elementary...

LMAOOO

THIS WAS SO CUTEEEEE

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

That grainy, cursed “Go to Sleep” pic from the early 2010s, uneven smile, too much blur, and way too much edge.

“You did not just show me that.”

The moment you tilt your phone toward him, Jeff’s face drops. You can practically feel the rage twitch behind his eye. But instead of exploding, he just goes eerily quiet.

You’re laughing too hard to notice at first—until he lunges. Not to kill you (yet), but to grab your phone.

“Give me that, or I’m taking a new pic of your ass with my boot shoved up it.”

You manage to escape, barely, but he catches up later that night. Instead of murder, he threatens a dramatic retaliation. Like flipping through your baby pictures if he ever finds them. (Spoiler: he will find them.)

✦ . ticci toby

A painfully awkward birthday party pic, maybe from when he was 13, wearing a paper party hat, holding a cupcake like it might explode.

“Where the he-hell did you get that?”

Toby just freezes when you show him. Then snorts. Then starts wheezing.

“Bro… I look like a Make-A-Wish kid whose only drea-dream was cake.”

He leans over your shoulder to zoom in. Doesn’t even try to take your phone away. He owns it, makes fun of it right alongside you. If anything, he ends up texting it to Hoodie and writing: “me when I had hopes and dreams.”

✦ . eyeless jack

Pre-transformation med school photo—glasses, awkward smile, scrubs too big for his frame.

He stares. Then sighs. “I told you not to dig.”

But he’s more amused than angry. A quiet kind of amused. He leans down to look closer, then flicks your forehead.

“Mock me again and I’ll sew your phone into your stomach.”

You joke that he looked like someone’s underpaid pharmacy tech, and he just deadpans:

“That was before I got interesting.”

(You send it to Toby anyway. Jack doesn’t stop you.)

✦ . masky (tim wright)

High school theatre kid moment—maybe in full costume as a tree or in a very dramatic off-brand Phantom of the Opera mask.

“Delete. It.”

Tim looks mortified. Like, true deer-in-the-headlights, this-is-how-I-die level embarrassment. He tries to be threatening, but it’s more like a tired dad trying to discipline a puppy chewing his slippers.

“You don’t want to see what I looked like in college, trust me.”

If you show it to the others, he goes full silent mode for a while. Later that night, he shows up at your room, throws a shoe at you, and grumbles:

“Laugh it up. You’re lucky I like you.”

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Frat party selfie—shirtless, beer in hand, red solo cup hat, doing the “e-boy smirk” before e-boys existed.

You do not survive.

“Delete that. Right now. I’m serious.”

He goes dead silent. Red in the ears. Takes exactly two seconds to yank the phone from your hands and chuck it across the room—luckily, onto a pillow.

“If this shows up on the internet, I’ll kill you slowly.”

Later, he finds the original on your laptop. Deletes it. Replaces it with a .txt file that says:

I warned you.

(You still have a backup in your Notes app. He knows. And he’s plotting.)

✦ . kate the chaser

Middle school volleyball team pic. Bangs. Oversized knee pads. Sassy hand on hip pose.

At first, she’s like, “Ugh. Don’t look at me.”

But then? “Actually… wait. Zoom in. LOOK AT THAT SERVE STANCE.”

She roasts herself and starts roasting your awkward school photos in retaliation.

“You looked like a poodle that lost a fight with a humidifier.”

Cue an all-night photo war that ends in laughing so hard your sides hurt and mutual humiliation.

✦ . ben drowned

Middle school school picture day. Slicked hair. Naruto hoodie. Digital camera flash that adds +5 cringe.

“BROOOOOOOO—ARE YOU KIDDING ME??” He shrieks like he’s been stabbed.

“WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT. I DELETED MY ENTIRE REALITY FOR A REASON.”

He tries to possess your phone, but fails. Then sulks. Then threatens to glitch your face into a creepypasta edit. Eventually, he just sits down, groaning and hiding his face while you giggle.

“That hoodie was limited edition, okay? I was COOL.”

He’s so embarrassed he logs off for 20 minutes. Then comes back and changes your ringtone to Rick Astley out of spite.

✦ . clockwork

A yearbook photo with full-metal braces, rainbow hair ties, and a shirt that says “Don’t touch my phone unless you’re a hot vampire.”

She looks at it. She stares at you. Then she starts laughing so hard she cries.

“OH MY GOD—I was awful.”

She grabs the phone and makes it her wallpaper just to mock herself.

“You think I peaked in 5th grade? You’d be right.”

No shame. Zero embarrassment. But if you ever show anyone else?

“I’ll tie you to a chair and make you watch Twilight: New Moon with me while I narrate it.”

✦ . laughing jack

A grainy, black-and-white carnival promo from decades ago—Jack in his original costume, looking awkward and too tall, with a forced clown smile.

He gasps like you’ve uncovered the Dead Sea Scrolls.

“This was my prime!”

Then proceeds to strike the same pose in front of you like it’s a Vogue cover.

“Look at that posture. That glimmer. That soul-devouring eye contact. You’re welcome.”

He hangs a copy of it in your room while you’re asleep and pretends it’s a gift.

✦ . slenderman

There is no photo. But you manage to dig up a blurry, early-2000s creepypasta wiki image with an awkward caption like “The Tall Gentleman.”

He looms behind you, slowly. You hear static. You feel watched. You turn—and he’s just…standing there.

“…This is beneath you.”

He doesn’t say more. But that night, your phone screen flickers. The photo is gone. Your flashlight keeps turning on by itself.

Message received.

꩜ .ᐟ

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Wild Times (But Not For Sorn)

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

June 2025 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Knock Out (Fri WeTV ) ep 6 of 12 - I continue to very much enjoy this show, all of the couples have great chemistry, the plot is entertaining, It’s a solid sports romance and I adore a sports romance. Nothing not to love.

My Stubborn (Sun iQIYI) ep 6 of 10 - No no no. Sorn is supposed to suffer. This is not acceptable. Do not just give in like that! Oh thank goodness, yay! Confrontation, make him suffer, Junbaby! You go sweetie! Good. Good, suffering. More suffering is needed! Tai make him suffer too!

Reset (Mon iQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - Did Thada just buy his man a plastic bowl so he could eat his ramen as they walk down a street? Interesting choice. Also “workcation” = v modern word… so Thada must also be on a Reset? I do love that Thada is putting all of his cards on the table so quickly, definitely one who feels like time might run out and he has to get it right this time around. Thada is treating a relationship with Armin exactly the same way that Armin is treating his acting career. As I think you could probably tell, I am enjoying this very much. What a good show.

Memoir of Rati (Fri Netflix or YT) ep 1 of 12 - I was resistant to picking this one up, despite my love of both pairs. The title, intro music, and setting make me nervous that we won’t get a happy ending. That said, I am particularly interested in this time of Thailand‘s history and the complicated diplomacy that went on. And holy heck can GreatInn serve up some stellar chemistry.

My Sweetheart Jom (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 - I continue to enjoy this more as it gets more plot heavy and convoluted. To be clear, that’s not normally what I like in my BL and certainly not what I expect from Thailand, or that Thailand does well. But there’s something about the way this show is paced that I'm enjoying more now than at the start. And we should be in the soggy middle. So, I guess... well done little show?

Pit Babe 2 (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 of 13 - Kenta Kim kiss! Yay!!! Chris’s epic eye rolls make me happy. However, this plot is Very Silly Indeed and I am very entertained. What a vroom vroom full of nonsense this is.

I Promise I Will Come Back (Mon WeTV) ep 5 of 10 - Oh what a lovely first kiss… touch… and so forth. I love this! It’s actually kind of special. How unexpected. (Ep 5A if you just wanna watch the moment.) I’ve said it before, there’s nothing wrong with the acting in this show. It’s the general story and script that’s troubling me. But my goodness all 3 leads are great.

The Next Prince (Sat iQIYI) ep 8 of 14 - It has been a bumper of a week and I’m grumpy, and unfortunately this particular show is bearing the brunt of it. I’m sorry, but the main couple are just so one note and it’s becoming quite trying. Something has to actually evolve with their characters, ya know? Now the sides …. very nicely done, give us more of them. 

The Bangkok Boy (Sat Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - It was a decent episode. But I’m really not sure about this show as a BL. It’s making me increasingly nervous.

Boys in Love (Sun iQIYI ) ep 7 of 12 - Just as I suspected, lots of nothing happening. Sports day. Whatever. (Always been Blue Team myself… just FYI.) 

SunTiny (Tues iQIYI) ep 1-2 of 10 - Look here, there’s a lot to like about this show. I like the idea of messing with standard misconceptions of top/bottom, and I LOVE it when the fandom hets and their dumb ideas of sex get the vapors. Blow their tiny minds, boys. Please. 

However, I am a little crushed that it takes a bodyswap for us to have a femme top. I hate bodyswap narratives. It’s one of my least favorite tropes. And I’m not sure this particular pair has the acting chops to carry this off. No skin off of MaxNat - good chemistry and decent actors, but to act like another person in your own body genuinely requires a level of physicality and verbal execution, a new way of holding the jaw and face to make believable. It’s not something that’s easy to do. Max is doing a slightly better job at it. He is certainly better at facial nuance and tone shift, but his physicality remains the same.

I love that this show is absolutely gonna mess with the worst of the fandom. That makes me really damn happy. Although it is dangerous territory for this pair to enter into and not a subject matter I expect Thailand to handle with delicacy. I do love all of the jockeying with linguistics and verbal pronouns and such. That is fun.

As of now though, I remain torn. It's gonns have to prove itself.

Eye Contact (Weds WeTV) ep 6 end? - I don’t like anything that happened at the back end of this show. And I’m not going to forgive it. I don’t like where the characters went. I don’t like where the relationships went. I don’t like what was done with the story arc. I don’t like the choices that were made by anyone. I am, to put it simply, cheesed off. The GL couple is the only good thing about this and they got practically no screen time. I’m tempted to say that this was originally slated to be a 12 episode and it stopped halfway through.

Summary

A promising start for a craptastic but delightfully edgy pulp derailed abruptly in the second act by miserable disconnected story arcs full of dysfunctional relationships, poor life choices, and every trigger in the book with no payout or attempt to resolve or address the resulting trauma. Including mine. I am seriously displeased. 3/10 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Ball Boy Tactics (Korea Thurs iQIYI) ep 3 of 8 - They. Are. So. Cute. I love them so much. No notes, absolutely my favorite thing airing right now.

Sweetheart Service (Korea Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - How delightful that the sides got some love. That was charming. They went on a date. They are so damn adorable. Meanwhile our leads are the bestest boys. 

Moon and Dust (China YT) ep 5 of 6 - Yay biting! Oh this show is so ffed up and I love that. It’s so good. It’s so warped. It’s so good because it’s so warped. I am scared (for me and the show) but so pleased.

He is my rabid dog child and I LOVE HIM. Let him fuck bite his brother if he wants.

Revenged Love (China Mon Gaga) ep 1-4 of 24? - A remake of 2015's Falling in Love with a Rival. From China ON GAGA? What alt-reality IS THIS? No idea on the length, MDL says 24 but at 45 a pop, I'm wondering if that's correct, because that would make this the first full length CBL we have had since... well, Advance Bravely. But also, see the next section, this could be shut down at any moment.

And now, some thoughts:

It is so like its source, absolutely unhinged CBL. Snake fighting. So much smoking. Money throwing. Gifting boys. Gang rp. UNHINGED. What the actual?

At least this time the seme is established queer out the gate closet? Our baby boy is a bit of a loser. And the meat cute was way more modern BL. Of course seme is also truly evil, he’s openly queer and this is CBL so he must be corrupt in all ways. (I don’t make the rules the CCP does.) 

Of course I LOVE the doctor. (Also the psycho baby brother from Moon & Dust, did you clock?) I don’t think I’ve ever loved a character this much this quickly since Film was last on my screen. He is glorious.  

Anyway, I have no faith in this ending in a satisfying manner, or indeed ending at all, but boy am I enjoying this WILD ride.

Depth of Field AKA Hishakai Shindo (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 1-2 of 6 - The actor playing Hayakawa was in one of the Kiss shorts! Neat. Well we know he can certainly kiss a boy. Meanwhile, this is warped, a little creepy, and sort of messed up. And exactly what I expected from this IP. I like it, as I usually do with stuff from Japan. I’m making no guarantees on where this is going tho. Remember, never try to predict Japanese BL. Safer on the psyche.

The Sparkle In Your Eye (Singapore Sun Gaga & Viki) eps 9-10 of 12 - characters aren’t talking to each other or telling the truth. It's very sappy and heart wrenching and tiring. 

Important word on the CBL we are enjoying right now.

WRITERS ARRESTED! China’s Danmei Crackdown (also stuff on SmartBoom breakup, and the unprecedented popularity of GL pair LingOrm's Photo Shoot)

This has happened before. I said a little while ago that the CBL industry & online behavior keeps giving me 2016 vibes and that time period seems to be repeating itself. (Maybe all these do-over time travel BLs lateIy have been trying to tell us something?) I know this new spate of uncensored CBLs are only being distributed internationally but I still don't see how we can expect this to end well, especially Revenged Love. We are in Heroin Addicted territory and the dejavu is strong with this one. I am going to keep watching on the "get it while you can" theory, but I now wish I'd been bootlegging Moon & Dust. Revenged too. I may set aside some time to do so for... reasons... I recommend you do the same.

That's not what he said. So petty Tencent CCP WeTV.

It's airing but......

I Became the Lead in a BL Drama 2 AKA Zoku BL Drama no Shuen ni Narimashita (Japan Gaga) 6 eps - While I am intrigued by the manager side couple, I can't be arsed to add this to the weekly rotation. I may binge once it's done.

The Ex-Morning (Thailand YT) 10 eps - dropped half way through ep 3. I was just angry at it, at GMMTV, at the script, at the characters. That's not healthy for any of us. If rumors are to be believed, I'm feeling great about this life choice.

Season of Love in Shimane AKA Ai no Kisetsu: The Season of Love (Thai) 8 eps - Sequel to Kiseki Chapter 2 which I intensely disliked. I won't watch this.

Mission to the Moon (YT) 12 eps- Watching but I can't keep track. Too short, too many, too YT. I will report at end.

Loy Kaew First Love (Fri YT) 6 eps - Dropped at ep 4. Ended this week, trigger warning on that ending. Not recommended.

Next Week Looks Like This:

2025 Line Up

6/27 The Promise of The Soul (Taiwan Gaga) 12 eps - Have I mentioned recently how much I hate bodyswap?

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

This is from a KBL short called Wrong Number, has the actor playing the older brother bartender in Sweetheart Service. So far v cute. But one can't trust Sukfilm to end well.

I am pretty sure this is not an accurate translation. But I kinda LOVED it. (Sweetheart Service)

It's all about the doctor character. He is giving me LIFE. (Other people too, presumably, being a doctor and all.)

Revenged Love.

Yeah yeah. I like to see it. I'll take my cute femme top anyway I can. (SunTiny)

No but seriously, that kiss (I Promise I Will Come Back).

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs @waitmyturtles

[trippinsorrows]

witness

authors note: this is pretty heavy, but it's necessary background and context for the next short i have finished and will post at some point.

again, minimal, limited tags, cause i've been posting way too much.

this one is also in roman’s pov.

masterlist

words: 2k

warnings: angst

In the five years that my children have been alive, I’ve had less than a year of time spent with them. Majority of that time being when they were still babies, far too young to remember anything.

To remember me.

But, regardless of that limited time spent with them then, the two weeks spent now have provided a lot. A lot of memories. A lot of one on one. A lot of bonding. I’ve “known” my kids now for only two weeks, an act of unspeakable violence brining us together but creating some of the fondest, easiest experiences I’ve had in life. Him. Her. Them. Us. It’s been….nice. An escape, to say that least. But, it’s through that time spent with them, that I’ve learned, to a certain extent how to read them.

It’s allowed me to pick up on when something is right and when something is off.

And, something is definitely off with Kaiden.

I’ve noticed it especially over the past two days. So has Solana, but it’s not like it’s something that fully baffles us, either. With what happened, what he’s been through, what they’ve both been through, how could they not be affected in some sort of capacity?

Regardless, there’s something pressing, heavy, and unspoken that settles in any interaction with Kaiden these past couple days. Something present and noticeable, wedged behind the smiles and laughter that we can evoke out of him. That Fetu and Ava can extract.

Regardless, it’s still there.

“Can you try?” Solana asks, leaning back against the counter, ready to wash the dishes used from the dinner we worked together, twins included, to prepare.

I can see it. The weight his unspoken weight has on her. I also know that she’s tried to talk with him but has mostly hit a dead wall.

Desperate. She seems desperate.

“Yeah,” I agree. Her small smile slightly comforting as she mumbles a “thank you” and moves to finish cleaning the kitchen. My gaze remains on her though, something that’s been lingering and pressing, pulling, gnawing at me ever since we landed. A discussion that, on some level, I think she also knows needs to be had. “Sola—”

“Shut up!”

“No!”

The voices of both the twins carrying from where they are upstairs is enough to have both myself and Solana already mid step on the staircase, heading directly towards their rooms.

“Take it back!”

“No! It’s true!”

Kaiden’s room is where we find them, the twins standing in front of the bed on opposite sides, Kaydence sniffling and holding onto her teddy bear. Kaiden is in front of her, his small hand formed into a tiny fist, a scowl on his face.

My scowl.

“Hey hey hey,” I move in between them, focused more on Kaiden and his clearly being angered by something, while Solana crouches down to tend to Kaydence. “What’s going on?”

“Why are you guys yelling at each other?” Solana questions, looking between the two of them. The expression on her face is all I need to see to know that this is out of character for them. The twins don’t argue.

Ever.

“He’s saying bad things, mommy,” Kaydence hiccups.

“No, I’m not,” Kaiden defends vehemently. I move to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching to turn him towards me only for him to lash out once more. “Daddy did it!”

“Don’t say that!” Kaydence shouts back. “No, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did!”

“That’s enough,” my voice cuts through, my interest—Solana’s as well—more than piqued. “What are you guys talking about?” I have to focus on that versus the fact that something deep within me rages at hearing them refer to him as anything at all, let alone daddy. He’s not. Never was.

Never will be again.

It’s Kaydence, however, turning to Solana, tears streaming down her face and what leaves her mouth next that changes it all. “Mommy, Kaiden says daddy’s the one who hurt you.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “But, he didn’t, right?" She shakes her head. "Daddy would never hurt you.”

“He did!” Kaiden snaps, but I see it. See what’s boiling beneath the surface. See the unshed tears that sit ready and needing though reluctant to fall. “He said—he said he was gonna kill her!”

“No!” Kaydence cries.

“Oh my God,” Solana gasps, hand over her mouth. It’s a heavy situation on all sides. Kaydence’s grief. Kaiden’s anger. Solana’s distress. It’s all palpable and consuming, filling the room, dancing up all of us in one way or another.

A realization that clearly both of us understand and realize has to be the cause for all of this. Kaiden saw what happened that night.

He saw that son of a bitch try to kill his mother.

Try to kill Solana.

My Solana.

“Mommy?” Kaydence heartbroken voice pulls us both from the heaviest fucking realization, reminding us that the time for shock and everything else can wait. The kids can’t. 

I honestly have no fucking clue how Solana should respond, if she should respond, or any of it. This is all new to me, but this especially is unfamiliar territory. I can navigate and finalize deals with anyone, handle myself with the best of the best, remain the last man standing regardless of who my opponent is. But, this? This….I’m at a loss.

I don’t even know where the fuck to begin.

“Y—Yes.” Despite my being at a complete loss, there’s still shock that surges through me at her most unexpected answer. I didn’t know what I expected Solana to say, but my reaction sure as hell confirms that it wasn’t that. “Yes, baby, your dad—he—”

Kaydence’s expression crumbles, her lower lip trembling, “no.”

“Baby—Kaydence!” Solana calls after her as she turns on her heel and runs out the room. Naturally, I stand and start to follow her when quiet sniffling below yanks me to a completely different task. Solana looks over her shoulder, clearly hearing it too. Her shoulders drop. “Kaiden….”

“Go,” I encourage. “I’ve got him.”

She needs to handle Kaydence. Solana looks torn but does as such, offering one last sympathetic look to Kaiden before heading out of the room to find our daughter.

Left alone with just the two of us, I don’t waste any time kneeling in front of him, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to help him, to support him, to make him feel better. Whatever he needs, I’ll fucking do.

For any of them.

“Hey buddy, talk to me.” He keeps his gaze down on the ground, clearly trying to contain his emotions. I fucking hate that shit. Not even involved in his life beyond the infant years, and somehow, someway, he got that repressing emotions shit. He got that shit from me.

My hands move to his shoulders, light, gentle, comforting squeezes. “Kaid—”

“I didn’t help her.”

The frown that’s been on my face since the minute Solana and I heard the twins arguing deepens. “What?” He doesn’t say anything, thus my gentle probing, “buddy, what do you me—”

“He was hurting mommy.” My stomach tightens. If I didn’t understand what he was saying before, I most definitely understand now. “I—I saw him, but I—I was scared, and—and —” He sniffles, the emotions clearly becoming too much for such a young child. As they would for and with anyone in his situation. “I ran to my room.” Jesus. “I didn't—I didn’t help her.”

“Kaiden—” It’s when he finally allows himself to do it. To feel. The tears tumbling out. It’s the same second I gather him in my arms, holding him, letting him just be.

“Kaiden, listen to me.” I haven’t the slightest fucking clue where it comes from. How I go from feeling completely lost and out of my element, to the words, much like his cries of sorrow, cascading out almost naturally. Like comforting him comes second nature.

Comforting my son.

“You did nothing wrong.” And the fact that he thinks he did, thinks that he somehow failed Solana by not “doing anything” fucking guts me to my goddamn core. “You went and stayed safe, and that’s exactly what your mom would have wanted you to do.”

Because there's no doubt in my mind Solana would have taken that bastard beating her 10x worse than he did if it meant Kaiden staying far away and remaining safe. God forbid he did try to "help" Sola that night.....

I can't even think about what that outcome would have looked like.

“But, he hurt her really bad,” he continues to cry, his fingers grasping at my shirt.

“I know he did.” And, I’m going to make that son of a bitch suffer 100x worse what he did to Sola. I wish I could tell him that part of it. But, I can’t. There’s only bits and pieces I can share, one in particular the thing he’s probably looking for the most. A promise. A promise of safety. “But, I promise you, he will never hurt her again.”

Nor you or your sister.

I have to quickly push that away, the memory of Solana sobbing into my chest as she told me what Cody said. His promise. His threats. Not only to kill her but them as well.

I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced such difficulty as I felt in that moment. I wanted to rip him apart with my bare fucking hands.

Still do.

Will.

Kaiden calms down just enough, pulling back as I wipe away his tears. “But—why—why did he hurt her?” He shakes his head, innocent confusion abundant. “Mommy’s the best mommy ever.”

She is. The best, period.

“I don’t know, buddy.” I hate lying to him. Lying, despite the irony of how he even came to exist, is that I hate lying in general. It’s never really been my thing. I’ve never had many reasons in my life to do so. Never had to.

Not until her.

But, I can’t. I can’t tell him the truth, because the truth is far too complicated, too heavy, too muddy for such a young child. He can’t and shouldn’t be saddled with that. Not with what he’s already been through. That bitch beat the shit out of Solana, her injuries something that almost caused her miscarriage. To lose our baby.

I can’t imagine seeing any of that in person, let alone a young child.

I hate that he’s been carrying this the past two weeks. He doesn’t deserve that.

None of them did.

“I hate him.”

Three words that have never felt so relatable. So true.

But, it’s not as simple as that. Even with my limited knowledge of children, even I know that Kaiden’s words come from a place of hurt, anger, and confusion. Perhaps some part of him does hate Rhodes and understandably so.

However, the fact of the matter remains that the bitch is still the man Kaiden—and Kaydence—have grown up knowing and calling daddy. In his eyes, that’s still his father. Someone who, prior to this, he loved wholeheartedly.

I have to ignore the aching bitterness that fills me at such a thought. This isn’t about me. It’s about my son.

My son.

“I know.” It’s all I can say. No agreement or disagreement. I don’t want my personal feelings to influence Kaiden. Again, I recognize this is a layered situation that calls for a tremendous amount of caution, and I won’t do anything to risk further traumatizing him.

Any of them.

Which is why this conversation has only solidified a decision I made as I held Solana’s hand while Michaels and his team worked to treat her injuries.

That that was the last time Cody Rhodes would ever be in the same vicinity as my Solana and my children. Consequences be damned. Gotham could burn to the fucking ground in the war that could ensue once this gets out. I don’t fucking care. I don’t care who has to die, who I have to kill. I don’t even fucking care if it costs me both or either title of Capo or Tribal Chief. I don’t care. None of that shit matters to me anymore. The only thing that matters is keeping them all safe, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Starting with killing Cody Rhodes.

He might have been their “father” before, but he never will be ever again.

And that’s a fucking promise.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

"No worries. People are supposed to help eachother." Lullaby replies to Sevetar, before turning to Anrir. "Is she ready for the operation?"

Anrir nods. "Yes, we'll be moving to the surgical theater momentarily."

Khopesh notes the way Sevetar tenses at the mention of Altani being moved again. He shares a quick glance with his life mate.

"In the interest of maintaining calm, can we allow Altani's guardians to be present?" Lullaby asks, which ironically causes Sevetar to snort.

Guardian...what a strange concept but he supposes he is one.

The raven begins signing to which Khopesh translates. "He says we will not allow eachother out of sight. That is prohibited, outright."

Anrir raises an eyebrow. "Normally...we would not allow such things given sanitation and security protocol." He huffs. "But given I'm fairly certain you'd rip through any barriers we'd erect I'll allow it." Anrir's expression morphs, taking on a deadly serious look. "But if your interference while I am operating causes her death or permanent disability that will be on You, no one else. Do I make myself Clear Captain?" He growls.

Jago seems momentarily surprised by Anrir's shift in tone until Khopesh chimes in. "He's basically saying the surgery might look rough, bloody and take long, and if you chucklefucks do anything stupid while the doctor is working you'll be the next ones getting dissected." He smiles. "Do Not get between my father and his patients, he will Make you regret it."

Lullaby smiles wryly. "And that's IF I don't fry your fucking nervous systems first. We want to help, and if you don't sit your asses down and let us we can and will Make you sit down." They add.

It takes a moment to process but Jago, the Nightmare given form, the First Captain of the Gruesome and terrifying Nightlord Legion...begins to Laugh.

The Raven at his side looks momentarily concerned before Jago straightens back up and answers.

"You have my word...I will keep my hands to myself." He agrees before turning his gaze back to Altani.

The little girl manages to smile in turn. "They want to help us. I can feel their intentions are pure."

"You agree to these terms Rushal?" Sev asks the Raven he's leaning against who signs a quick response.

"He says he Agrees and wants nothing more than to be with his family and remain undissected." Khopesh fills in.

"Oh don't we all." Lullaby jokes back, gently elbowing their mate playfully. "I can use my abilities to keep things calm while Altani is sedated and operated on. We should probably get some chairs or even a cot so you two can actually get some rest while the operation proceeds."

Khopesh grins at Jago, his smile is naturally crooked but he's clearly trying to be reassuring. "You are in good hands Brother and Cousin and little psycher. My father will do all he can to aid you."

"We, will do everything we can to aid you." Lullaby adds.

"May it be so." Jago sighs slumping against Rushal.

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @nereidof40k @kit-williams @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Folowing the thread in the asks, how about opening the Saga of Hark Two Naked Astartes Rescue an Astropath and End up together in Husbandry Sentience?

(I was literally about to start writing the post, nice timing. XD

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan , @bookandyarndragon , anyone else who wants to join in)

Sevatar was sprinting towards the hangar on the Invincible Reason, chainsword in one hand, Altani clutched tightly to his chest, barely visible under the thick blanket he had liberated for her. His pale skin was spattered with blood, some of it even his own.

Screw getting his armor. This was the closest they had ever gotten to freedom. And for Altani’s sake he would sacrifice his dignity if he had any left at this point. The constant attempts to get an astropathic message through to Terra had been rough on the choir. His little girl had been terrified she would be the next to perish in the attempt. Despite being Second Voice of the choir, and quite likely the strongest of them all, she knew all too well how one misstep could fell even the mightiest.

Behind Sevatar, Rushal was on his heels, keeping up admirably despite being a foot taller and built like he was designed by Dorn rather than being one of Corax’ sons. Both of them looked like they had seen better days, filthy, covered in blood, bruises and cuts.

As the pair sprinted through the hangar door, Altani stirred. Her voice rough with exhaustion. “Jago…”

Whatever she was about to say was lost as the world went eye searingly white. Everything was spinning like he was flying through the void of space on the back of a starfighter. Sevatar could barely feel Rushal’s hand on his arm or Altani’s weight against his chest.

When the spots in his vision cleared, they were standing in a very different place. Fresh, strangely pure air, a bright sun, lush green grass, trees, a road…and was that individual buildings rather than a jumble of spires? He could feel his head pounding for the first time in a long while as the sun felt like it was trying to stab his brain through his eyeballs.

Rushal put a steadying hand on Sevatar’s shoulder as they tried to get their bearings. Altani buried her face against his bare chest, whimpering at the bright sunlight.

At once Jago ignored his own throbbing headache, trying to catch the attention of passersby. Who seemed to be trying their best to ignore the trio.

Talking to them in Gothic didn’t seem to work. Neither high nor low. When he tried Nostraman one woman actually crossed the road to get away from him. Urgently talking into some sort of rectangular device. The language was not one he had ever heard before in his long life. Nor was she the only one urgently talking.