#AND THAT I AM TOO IN LOVE WITH LIFE TO LEAVE IT BEHIND

[bloatedandalone04]

Kiwi

Summary: You’re pregnant with Rafe’s baby, and he’s more stressed out about it than you are (and rightfully so).

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, protective rafe, soon to be dad rafe, smut, angst if you squint, unprotected sex, pregnancy.

You were steadily entering your second trimester, which was shaping out to be a little easier than your first. You were still craving the weirdest food combinations, but Rafe would never complain about needing to go out and buy them for you since the grateful smile you always gave him made his heart feel so full. 

Seven years with you, and he was still as crazy about you as he’d been since the first date. 

With that being said, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to like your weird (and sometimes really fucking gross) pregnancy cravings. But he would have to, since you’re carrying his baby like a fucking champ, and you looked so stunning while doing so. 

Rafe had just gotten back from a grocery store run, sporting a bag full of odd food choices for you, and he set it down on the counter before leaving the kitchen to go find you. 

You were in the living room, your feet planted on the couch as you scrolled through your phone. Why you were standing on the couch, he had no idea, but the thought of you accidentally falling was the first thing that flashed through his head, and he was not about to let that happen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped, quickly walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re four months pregnant, babygirl, you need to be careful. Jesus Christ.”

“I am being careful,” you defended yourself, holding your phone in one hand while your other ran through his hair. You looked around the living room, your eyes flickering between every corner as you stayed standing on the couch. “I saw a spider, and I don’t know where it went. And you know how much I hate spiders. I had to make sure it didn’t crawl on me or something. Then I would’ve been the one having a heart attack.”

You sounded so unserious, but Rafe knew you were being completely genuine. Your fear of anything that had more than two legs was no joke, and he couldn’t count the times he’s killed something for you on both hands. 

“Plus, I’ve only been standing here for, like, five minutes,” you added, looking down at him and shrugging casually, as if you didn’t feel the way his grip tightened on you at your words. 

“Five minutes is too fucking long,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head afterwards as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your belly. “You’re not thinking straight right now, are you? That’s the only logical explanation for this.”

His big hands stayed planted on your waist, keeping you steady as he pulled away and looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and full of nothing but adoration for you and the little life growing inside of you. 

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, you know that right?” he grunted, a smile forming on his lips when you let out a soft laugh. 

“Ooh, silver fox Rafe,” you teased, draping your arms around his neck as he helped you off the couch. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’d look so fucking hot with gray hair, baby. Like, so fucking sexy. So don’t tempt me.”

Rafe scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Silver fox? I’m twenty nine, baby, not forty,” he mumbled, “But, I guess if you like that sorta thing…who am I to judge?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch as you pressed your lips to his jaw. “I like anything that involves you,”

He smiled down at you, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I like anything that involves you too, babygirl,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “Actually, I love everything that involves you.”

Then he was leaning all the way in and kissing you deeply and slowly, his hands sliding down your body until they grazed your ass, and then he was full on groping you through your leggings. 

You whined against his mouth, your lips pressing more firmly against his as you pulled him impossibly closer to you until your bump was pushing against his abs. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” you muttered, “And what’s with you always grabbing my ass? You’ve been obsessed with it since we got together.”

Rafe smirked down at you. “Of course I’m obsessed with it, it’s part of you,” he replied, and you pressed your lips together. 

“You are so fucking sweet and sexy and I think we should go to our bedroom before I-” you cut yourself off by screaming directly into your husband’s face as you practically jumped back up onto the couch with wide eyes. 

Rafe didn’t even need to turn around to know that the eight legged creature who scared you before had made its big return. “What did I tell you?” he muttered, taking you into his arms as he lifted you from the couch. 

“Rafe! Stop, it’s literally right there and it’s so fucking big,” you protested as he carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he had you sitting safely at the breakfast bar, he slid the bag of food over for you to inspect as he grabbed a piece of paper towel. 

“Stay here, okay? Eat something,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he walked back into the living room to find the harmless insect that had been tormenting you during the entire time he was gone. 

-

You were pulling Rafe along with you towards the bedroom, your lips all over his neck and jaw, but he was moving so slowly. You were now six months pregnant, and Rafe had become more and more protective of you, if that was even possible at this point. 

And while you loved him for it, his hesitation every time you initiated sex was making you go crazy. You were so turned on, and you needed your husband. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you walked backwards. “I need you. I need you so bad. Please? I promise, I won’t break.” you whined, nearly stumbling as you pulled him along with you. 

Rafe’s hands instantly tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your belly as it pressed against his abs through his shirt. “Easy, babygirl,” he cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

While you knew he wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, you also knew exactly how to rile him up and get him going. Rafe had been obsessed with your body since the second he first saw you completely bare, and his obsession had only intensified once your body began to change due to your pregnancy. 

You stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that had grown so much, they were nearly spilling out of your bra. You watched Rafe bite his lip before you moved onto your leggings, and you stepped out of them and kicked them aside as well. 

Rafe groaned as he pulled off his own shirt and jeans, his hands finding your waist again as he moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, sliding your panties down your legs before he guided you onto his lap. 

You willingly went, a needy whine leaving your lips as you settled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. “I love you,” you moaned, kissing him as you began to rub yourself along his dick. “I love you so much.”

He gripped your hips, guiding the slow rolls of your body. “I love you too, baby,” he groaned, “More than my next fucking breath.”

His words made your head feel all fuzzy, and he lifted you slightly to position himself at your soaked core. When he eased you back down onto his cock, you both let out a sound of relief as you came together as one, and you reveled in the feeling of his big hands on your body. 

“Fucking perfect,” he praised, his eyes hooded as his hands slid around to grip your ass gently.

You moaned loudly, holding onto his shoulders as you rolled your hips against his as best as you could with your bump persistently brushing against his stomach. “Fuck,” you whimpered, arching your back a bit and making your chest press right up against his. “Oh fuck, Rafe, you feel so good.” 

He felt so good, you were powerless to stop the loud moans from leaving your mouth as you rode him. Rafe’s hands slid up your back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra before he pulled the fabric away from your body, his palms immediately roaming over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so tight and wet for me. Sweet pussy was made for my cock,” he grunted, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled under his touch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours as he met your bounces with upward thrusts of his hips. You moaned against his mouth, his words making your body heat up in a blush. You’d never get tired of hearing him say things like that. 

His hands moved to your belly, and he caressed it as he broke the kiss and buried his face against your shoulder. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, making your blush deepen as you moved a little faster and a bit harder.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your thighs start to burn from over-exertion. “Oh, fuck…I’m gonna cum.” you warned, feeling the knot that had been steadily building up inside you start to tighten. 

Rafe grunted, reaching in between your bodies until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against the underside of your belly and his fingers were brushing against your clit. “Yeah, cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your hip as he guided you to take him a little harder. “I’m close too.”

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder as you came for him. A cry left your lips as you weakly bounced on his lap, your legs shaking a bit as you pulled on his hair. “Fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you felt him thrust a few more times before he stilled.

A deep groan left the back of his throat as he held you close to him, his warmth filling you up from the inside out as he let out harsh pants against the side of your neck. “I’ll never get over that,” he muttered, placing soft kisses along your shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back. “I’ll never get over you.”

You grinned as he gently eased you off him and moved back on the bed, taking you with him as he leaned back against the pillows. “Good,” you hummed as he turned you around and spooned you from behind. “Because I think you’re stuck with me for life.”

When you guided his big palm to rest on your belly, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head as his thumb rubbed along your swollen skin. “Good,” he echoed. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You’re all I want in the world.”

A lazy smile formed on your lips as you snuggled back against him, and only a few seconds later, you had fallen asleep.

-

Not me working on my birthday again...thanks for reading x

[tsunaso]

Hi!!

Could I get Zenitsu from demon slayer that swears he straight start to fall for male reader? Like maybe reader is confident and flirty/make dirty jokes with him but he is so deep in denial that he’s always refusing and stuff until he realizes he’s daydreaming of reader and wanting to go along with it?

Not sure if I’m describing it well, and you’re welcome to take the concept and run with it however you like but I thought bi disaster would be funny and a cute bottom

“IN A FLASH”

pairing. “Straight”!Zenitsu Agatsuma x Top!male reader

synopsis. Zenitsu is 100% straight—or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But between your constant flirting, your cocky smirks, and the unwelcome daydreams about being pinned against a wall, he’s starting to lose his mind. And maybe, just maybe… he likes it. — 1.7k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dirty jokes, tiniest bit of power play, first time (with a man), overstimulation, handjob, aftercare

a/n: You did a great job describing what you wanted! Thank you for sending in my first request!

Zenitsu was not in love with you.

Nope. Not a chance. Absolutely not.

It didn’t matter that you were tall, confident, and smirked like you owned the place. It didn’t matter that you rolled up your sleeves during training, your arms a little too toned, a little too veiny for him to not notice. And it especially didn’t matter that you had a habit of leaning in too close, whispering dirty jokes just low enough for only him to hear.

Because Zenitsu?

Zenitsu liked women.

He loved women. Soft hands, long hair, big br—

"Are you blushing?"

The sound of your smooth, teasing voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Zenitsu immediately flinched, whipping around to see you grinning down at him, elbow resting on his shoulder.

His stomach flipped.

"No! I—Why would I—?! I AM NOT BLUSHING!"

In his panic, he stumbled backward—tripping over absolutely nothing—and fell flat onto his ass.

You burst out laughing, loud and shameless, crossing your arms as you watched him writhe in his own embarrassment.

"You totally were," you smirked. "What’s the matter? My rugged good looks getting to you?"

Zenitsu felt his entire soul leave his body.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" He practically threw himself back to his feet, pointing at you in a wild panic. "I AM 100% STRAIGHT, OKAY?! I LOVE WOMEN! BIG BOOBS! SOFT HANDS! LONG HAIR!"

You just raised an eyebrow.

"...Alright, bro. You want a medal or something?"

Zenitsu twitched violently.

This was your fault.

For months, you'd been torturing him.

The casual hand on his shoulder. The way you'd sit too close, your thigh pressed against his. The way your gravelly, stupidly deep voice sounded whenever you murmured some filthy joke into his ear, leaving him to short-circuit in real-time.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He was definitely not going to start thinking about it later.

Absolutely not.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It started small. Little things.

Like how your voice was kind of deep.

Not too deep—but just enough to make his stomach flip when you said his name.

Or how your hands were huge.

Not that he was paying attention to them. Not that he was imagining how they’d feel gripping his waist, holding his wrists, pinning him—

WAIT, BAD. BAD THOUGHT.

Zenitsu shook his head violently, slapping his own cheeks.

He was just tired. That was all. He needed to train more.

…But training wasn’t exactly helping.

Because lately, you were standing too damn close.

"Need help with your stance?" you murmured from behind him, your chest almost pressed to his back.

Zenitsu froze.

His entire body locked up as your hands brushed over his hips, adjusting him like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t completely ruining his life.

"I—I GOT IT!" he shrieked, flailing away from you like you were on fire. "THANKS, NO NEED TO TOUCH ME, I’M PERFECTLY FINE—!!"

You just blinked at him, amused. "Dude, chill."

Zenitsu was not chilling.

He was losing his fucking mind.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It got worse.

He started having thoughts.

Thoughts like, "What if he pushed me against a wall?"

Or "What if he held me down?"

Or "What if I just… let him?"

"NOOOOOOO—!!!" Zenitsu bolted upright in bed, screaming into his pillow.

What the hell was that dream?!

WHY WAS IT KINDA GOOD?!!

He buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth in despair.

"This isn’t happening," he whispered. "I love women. BIG BOOBS. SOFT HANDS. LONG HAIR."

…Your hair didn’t look like a womans, but it always looked kinda nice.

WAIT, NO, STOP—!!!

Zenitsu launched himself out of bed. He needed a distraction. Immediately.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu was determined to prove his 100% absolute heterosexuality.

Which is why, the next morning, he could be found on his knees in front of a random woman, gripping her hands, screaming into the sky.

"HELLO, BEAUTIFUL LADY! HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WOMEN?!"

The woman blinked. "…Are you okay?"

"I’M SO OKAY!" Zenitsu laughed, manic and desperate. "SO, SO, SO OKAY! WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL! GORGEOUS! PLEASE MARRY ME!"

You watched from a distance, arms crossed, fighting back a smirk.

"He’s been acting weird lately," Tanjiro mumbled beside you.

You chuckled. "Yeah. I noticed."

Zenitsu’s entire body stiffened.

Because your voice—your deep, amused, cocky voice—was right behind him.

He turned slowly, staring up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

"Yo," you grinned.

Zenitsu squeaked.

Just straight-up made a noise like a fucking chew toy and bolted in the opposite direction.

You laughed.

Because oh yeah.

You definitely knew what this was.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu’s back hit the wall, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants.

His whole body was shaking, his hands gripping at nothing, his legs weak beneath him.

This was your fault.

You were too close.

You had him trapped, one hand flat against the wall beside his head, your strong, calloused fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

He tried to glare.

Tried to resist.

But his face was burning, his eyes were wide and panicked, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

This was wrong.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I—I don’t—” Zenitsu stammered, but his hips twitched forward, betraying him instantly.

You smirked. "Not like what?"

Your voice was too deep, too smooth, too much.

Zenitsu let out a sharp, shaky breath, his fingertips digging into the wall behind him.

"I—I'm not—"

He cut himself off, biting his lip hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

Because if he looked at you any longer, he was going to break.

And then—

You grabbed his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.

Zenitsu shattered.

A sharp, wrecked little noise escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, his body going stiff—then melting completely.

His hands shot up to grip your shirt, his fingers fisting the fabric so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

His whole body was burning, his mind spinning, his lips parting helplessly as you deepened the kiss, teasing, taking your time breaking him apart.

Zenitsu’s legs gave out.

You caught him instantly, one strong arm wrapping around his waist, keeping him pinned against you.

He hated how good it felt.

He hated how easily you overpowered him.

He hated that his dick was aching, twitching, throbbing, already soaked with precum—

But most of all?

He hated how much he loved it.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu didn’t remember how you got him to bed.

All he knew was that he was on his back, his clothes half-off, his skin burning, and your hands were on him.

Too much.

Too good.

Too overwhelming.

His breath was shaky, his legs spread open beneath you, his whole body trembling like a leaf. He should’ve been embarrassed—should’ve pushed you away, should’ve pretended he didn’t want this.

But when you dragged your palm up his inner thigh, tracing over sensitive, untouched skin, his whole body jerked violently, a shocked little whimper spilling from his lips.

His hands shot up to cover his mouth, his fingers pressing against his own lips as if that could stop the noises from escaping.

You smirked.

“Oh? You like that?”

Zenitsu furiously shook his head, eyes blown wide, face burning.

"NO—"

You hummed, dragging your fingers up his trembling stomach, stopping just at the waistband of his underwear.

"You sure?"

Zenitsu bit his lip hard, his whole body twitching in anticipation.

He could feel himself leaking, soaking the fabric, his thighs clenched but trembling, struggling to stay still.

He was too sensitive.

Too needy.

And when you finally hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged his underwear down—

Zenitsu gasped, his breath catching, his dick twitching against his stomach.

Fuck.

He looked away immediately, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t supposed to like this.

Then your fingers wrapped around him, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure.

And Zenitsu cried out.

A sharp, wrecked moan slipped past his lips, his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself.

"S-Shit—"

You chuckled. "You're shaking."

"Sh-Shut up," he whined, his voice cracking, his fingers digging into the sheets.

He was burning up.

He felt too hot, too exposed, too weak.

But it felt good.

Way too fucking good.

Your grip tightened just slightly, your thumb swiping over his leaking tip, and Zenitsu’s whole body twitched.

His breath hitched, a choked moan spilling out.

"I-I—oh fuck—"

You smirked. "Already close?"

"NO—" Zenitsu’s voice cracked, his cheeks burning.

He was not going to cum just from this.

He was not going to embarrass himself like that.

He was not going to—

You leaned down, dragged your tongue over his tip, and Zenitsu screamed.

His fingers fisted the sheets, his whole body seizing up, his dick twitching violently.

And then—

He broke.

"OH—OH FUCK—"

His back arched sharply, his hips bucking up, his breath stuttering, and then he let out a wrecked little sob, cumming way too fast, way too hard.

His chest heaved, his legs shaking, his body completely wrecked beneath you.

You pulled back slightly, grinning down at him.

"That fast?" your voice was low, amused, teasing. "Thought you had more stamina, Thunder Boy."

Zenitsu whined into his hands, his whole body trembling, his mind completely blank.

He should’ve been mortified.

But then—

Your hand wrapped around him again.

And Zenitsu twitched violently.

"H-Hah—w-wait, I just—"

Your grip tightened slightly, stroking him slow, teasing, letting him feel the overstimulation creep in.

Zenitsu gasped, his hips jerking forward weakly, his thighs trembling.

"You're still hard," you murmured, voice silky smooth. "Guess that wasn't enough for you, huh?"

Zenitsu let out a broken little noise, his nails digging into your arms.

He couldn’t handle this.

He was too sensitive.

Too fucking weak.

"B-Be gentle," he whispered, his voice tiny.

You smirked, kissing his heated skin.

"No."

Then you kept going.

And Zenitsu?

Zenitsu didn’t stand a chance.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu refused to let go of you.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your chest, his breath still shaky.

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You okay?"

Zenitsu huffed weakly, his fingers tightening their grip on you.

"I still like girls," he mumbled into your skin. "I just… really like you too."

You chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

Zenitsu whined. "Don’t make me say it again—!"

You grinned. "So you liked it?"

Zenitsu froze.

Then, with a mortified little whimper, he hid his face in your chest.

"D-Don’t say it out loud, idiot!"

You laughed, holding him tighter.

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part 2

I honestly didn't think this story would be as popular as it was. Here is part two. I love this man! Requests are open for him!

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Sakamoto’s convenience store for the second night in a row. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a dim glow over the aisles of instant noodles and neatly stacked snack packs. It was late, you were exhausted, and the only thing keeping you upright was the promise of caffeine.

What you didn’t expect was the man waiting for you like a lovesick puppy.

Nagumo was already there—this time perched cross-legged on the counter, juggling a few snack packs with the effortless grace of someone who had far too much energy for this hour. The motion was fluid, almost mesmerizing, but it all came to a screeching halt the moment he caught sight of you.

His entire face lit up like a firework.

“She’s back,” he breathed, voice dripping with awe, as if your mere presence had turned his world right-side up again. All at once, he lost control of his juggling act, snacks tumbling to the floor and rolling away unnoticed. In one smooth motion, he leapt off the counter, landing in front of you with the practiced ease of a man who had spent his life making grand entrances.

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “...Do I know you?”

Nagumo froze mid-smirk.

Behind him, Sakamoto let out a long-suffering sigh from his place behind the register, his expression screaming, why is this my life?

Nagumo, however, looked as if you had just physically struck him. His hand clutched his chest dramatically, eyes wide with betrayal. “You—” He pointed at himself. “Don’t remember me?”

Your gaze flickered over him. Messy hair, smug yet strangely charming grin, an energy that radiated mischief and unwavering confidence—none of it rang a bell. “No?”

Nagumo staggered back, gripping the counter for support as if he had taken a mortal wound. “No?” he echoed in disbelief.

Sakamoto rubbed his temples, not even bothering to look up. “She was exhausted last time. You probably didn’t leave much of an impression.”

Nagumo gasped, turning on him like he’d just been betrayed a second time. “How could I not leave an impression?!”

Sakamoto shrugged, utterly indifferent.

Nagumo turned back to you, determination blazing in his sharp eyes. “Okay, okay. Let’s fix this.” He smoothed out his jacket, took a deep breath, and then flashed you the most dazzling smile he could muster. It was the kind of smile that could sell you anything, the kind that dripped with charm and dangerous intent all at once.

“I’m Nagumo. Master of disguise, incredibly skilled assassin, and—most importantly—your future husband.”

You stared at him, then glanced at Sakamoto for confirmation. “He’s joking, right?”

Sakamoto didn’t even glance up. “I wish.”

Nagumo pouted, but there was an eager glint in his eyes, as if he found your skepticism utterly endearing. “Come on, don’t look at me like that. We had a moment yesterday.”

You squinted. “When?”

“When you spoke to me,” he said, as if that explained everything. “That word made me fall in love with you even more.”

“…Move?”

Nagumo sighed dreamily. “She said it again. My heart cannot take it.”

You exhaled sharply and stepped past him toward the fridge, your patience already wearing thin. “Listen, I’ve had a long day, I’m tired, and I just want my coffee. I can’t… I don’t… I want nothing to do with this.” You scrubbed your eyes tiredly. Maybe it wasn’t them; maybe you were hallucinating. That would make more sense than this…

Nagumo followed, utterly undeterred. “I can make your days better, you know. Imagine this: you wake up, and I’m already making breakfast—probably something impressive, like a perfect omelet. Followed by a back massage. Then, we go on a date. Maybe just the park. Maybe Paris. I’m flexible. I am very flexible, if you know what I mean.” His eyes wiggled frantically in front of your face.

You grabbed a can of coffee and shut the fridge door in his face.

“Not interested in you or how flexible you are.”

Nagumo gasped, reeling back as if you had just delivered a killing blow. He turned to Sakamoto, devastated. “She rejected me again.”

Sakamoto, unbothered, continued ringing up your drink. “You’re surprised? You’re being a creep.”

Nagumo turned back to you, his expression shifting from mock devastation to something more resolute. His amber eyes softened, but the mischief never fully left them. “That’s okay. I love a challenge.”

You groaned, trudging toward the register. “This is harassment.”

Nagumo grinned, trailing after you. “It’s romance.”

Sakamoto sighed, tapping the loudly beeping register. “Please stop encouraging him. ”

Nagumo placed a hand over his heart as if making a solemn vow. “I am but a humble man in love, Sakamoto. I will make her see how I am her perfect husband.”

You paid, took your drink, and turned toward the exit. “I’m leaving now.”

Nagumo leaned against the counter, watching you go with the kind of expression that belonged in a dramatic romance film. “See you tomorrow, my dear. I’ll be waiting! Your devoted husband-to-be…”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response.

The moment the door shut behind you, Nagumo exhaled sharply, slumping onto the counter. His fingers curled into his jacket as he stared at the door with an expression of pure longing.

“Man, she’s perfect.”

Sakamoto gave him a flat look. “You’re a disaster.”

Nagumo grinned, undeterred. “A romantic disaster.”

Outside, you cracked open the ice-cold coffee. “I gotta find a new convenience store. This one is full of weirdos. Assassin my ass.”

[ivyues]

Chasing Yesterday | 1 | - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x lost connection trainee friend

Years after splitting paths, Bang Chan didn't expect a simple text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The training rooms smelled of sweat, determination, and dreams that didn’t come easy. Chris always lingered a little longer than the others, his eyes fixed on the mirrors, wondering if his reflection would ever transform into someone worthy of debut. For years, it was the same – watching friends reach their dreams while he stayed behind, burdened by doubt.

There was also you. You weren’t just another trainee to Chris. Sure, you were a hard worker, someone who matched his relentless pace, but you were also his anchor. Late-night conversations about dreams, shared snacks in the practice room, and bursts of laughter after a particularly tough day made the grueling years bearable. He never told you about the way his heart would race when you smiled at him or how your encouragement after his failures felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He kept that silly little teenage crush away, afraid to ruin what you two had.

But around the time Han joined the company, you decided to leave. The dream of becoming a K-pop idol didn’t burn as brightly for you anymore, and while Chris understood, he hated losing yet another close ally. One day, you were practicing next to him and the next day, you were just… gone.

The years passed. Stray Kids debuted, and Chris threw himself into his work, becoming the leader his members needed him to be. Life moved on, but every now and then, in quiet moments, he’d wonder what you were doing. 

It wasn’t until one day, years later, when he was catching up with Sana that your name came up.

“You remember Y/N?” Sana asked casually over coffee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Of course, I remember her,” Chris said with a small smile. “It’s been years, though. I haven’t talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, the memory bittersweet. “I wonder how she’s doing.”

Sana grinned. “Funny you should say that. I got her number recently. Want it?”

Chris blinked, startled. “Her number?”

“Yep,” Sana said, sliding her phone toward him. “Go on. Text her. She’d probably love to hear from you.”

That night, Chris sat on his bed, your number staring back at him from his phone screen. He hesitated, typing and deleting messages, his nerves getting the better of him. Days passed before he finally worked up the courage to text you.

“Hey, this is Chris. Sana gave me your number. It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Chan hit send and immediately regretted it. What if you didn’t reply? What if you didn’t want to talk to him at all? He set his phone down, trying to distract himself, but every buzz made his stomach flip.

A few hours later, his phone lit up.

“Chris as in Christopher Bang Chan?”

He smiled, relief washing over him as he quickly typed back. “Yeah, it’s me. This is Y/N, right?”

Your reply came almost instantly: “Yeah. It’s been ages! I can’t believe you’re texting me!”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before replying, “I’ve missed you. I hope you’re doing well.”

There was a brief pause before your next message arrived: “I am, thanks. You too. I’m proud of you. I’ve watched your MVs – You’ve come so far.”

The thought of you keeping up with his career sent a rush of warmth through him. He stared at your message for a moment, rereading it before typing back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You know that, right?”

Your reply came with a teasing tone that made him laugh out loud. “Once you’re famous and living the idol life, you forget to text old friends, huh? 😜”

“Hey, I’m here now!” he shot back.

And just like that, the ice was broken. Over the next few days, your texts became constant – snippets of your lives, fond memories of the trainee days, and playful banter. It felt like no time had passed, and yet, in some ways, everything had changed.

One day, Han caught Chris grinning at his phone in the corner of the dorm. It was rare to see their leader so visibly relaxed, much less smiling to himself. Intrigued, Han leaned in, nearly giving Chris a heart attack.

“Hyung, who’s got you giggling like that? Is it someone I know?”

Chris scrambled to lock his phone. “It’s nothing, it’s just...an old friend. Do you remember Y/N from when we were trainees?”

Hearing him say your name, Han’s curiosity only grew. “Not really, but you were pretty close right? Hyung, why are you just texting? You should meet her. It’s been years, right? I bet she’d love to catch up.”

Chris hesitated. Meeting you in person? That thought felt heavier than he expected. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hyung.” Han’s tone softened, sensing his hesitation. “You’ve told me stories about her. She meant a lot to you back then, right? What’s stopping you?”

It was a question Chris couldn’t easily answer, but it nudged him to act. A few days later, after much internal debate, he texted you.

“How about coffee this weekend? There’s this café I like. We could catch up properly.”

Your response was quick and enthusiastic: “I’d love that! Let me know the place and time.”

-----

The café was warm and inviting, its earthy tones and gentle lighting creating a cozy ambiance. Chris arrived first, nervously fiddling with his phone as he waited. He hadn’t seen you in years, and the thought of reconnecting stirred a mix of excitement and anxiety. Would he recognize you? Would it feel the same as it did back then?

When the bell above the door chimed, Chan looked up, and there you were. You hadn’t changed much, and yet, you looked so different. The teenage girl he remembered had matured into someone who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Your smile was the same, though, lighting up your face as you spotted him.

“Chris,” you greeted, and the sound of his name in your voice felt like a time machine.

He stood, unsure whether to hug you or shake your hand, but you made the decision for him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It’s been forever,” you said, pulling back to look at him. “You haven’t changed.”

Chris chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “You have – in a good way. You look… happy.”

The two of you ordered drinks and found a quiet corner. The conversation started easy – catching up on the basics, sharing stories from your lives since those trainee days. But as the initial excitement settled, the mood grew more reflective.

“Do you regret it?” Chris asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, but his gaze was intense, searching your expression for any flicker of doubt. “Leaving the company, I mean. Giving up on… that dream.”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering his question. “No,” you said finally, your voice steady. “I don’t regret it, Chris. After I quit I realized that I was chasing something that wasn’t really mine to chase. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, or maybe to others.”

You paused, hesitating before continuing. “I realized after I left that the dream I really wanted… it was never an option for me. Producing music, having creative control—it was never going to happen as a girl in a girl group, not in that company, not at that time. They had a mold, and I didn’t fit into it. Once I understood that, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn’t.”

Chris’ eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them. “That… must’ve been tough to come to terms with.”

“It was,” you admitted. “I was angry for a while, at myself, at the system. But after I left, I started to see that it wasn’t the end. There’s more than one way to make a dream come true, and the path I’m on now—it feels right for me. I’m happy where I am.”

Chris nodded, processing your words. “You always seemed so sure of yourself back then. I guess I just… I admired that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I wasn’t as sure as you think. But thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

There was a moment of quiet, the café’s gentle hum filling the space between you. Then Chris tilted his head slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you still do music? Like creating or singing?”

You smiled, the question sparking something warm in you. “Yeah, I do. It’s just a hobby now, though. I write and sing at home when I feel like it. It’s… different from before, but it brings me a lot of joy.”

“That’s great,” Chris said sincerely. “I’m glad you haven’t let it go completely. Music was always such a big part of who you are.”

You nodded, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “It still is. But right now, I haven’t really been doing much with it. I just moved back to Seoul recently, so I’m still settling in. Once things are a bit more stable, I’d love to dive back into it.”

“You moved back?” Chris asked, his eyes lighting up. “How long ago?”

“Just a couple of months,” you said. “I wanted a change, and Seoul felt like the right place to be.” Then, after a brief pause, you added, “You know, once everything’s in order, you should come by sometime. I’ve been meaning to show someone my music setup—well, when I finally unpack it all.”

Chris’ eyes widened slightly in surprise, then softened with a warm smile. “Yeah? I’d like that. It’d be nice to hear what you’ve been working on since.”

“It’s nothing fancy – no chart-topping masterpieces” you said quickly, brushing off the compliment with a wave of your hand. “But it’s always fun to share it with someone who gets it.”

“I’d love to,” he said, his sincerity unmistakable. “Just let me know when you’re ready. No rush.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light through the café windows, the two of you lingered, caught in a space that felt timeless. There was something comforting about reconnecting, about seeing the ways you had both changed and grown, yet still finding the same thread of understanding that had tied you together all those years ago.

pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | masterlist

[wandamaximilf]

Make Me Feel Something

pairing: wanda maximoff + y/n ( mentions of vision )

warnings: 18+, overstimulation, teasing, spit, fingering, lesbian, clit play

summary: when you share disappointing news with wanda about catching vision acting out behind her back, her anger spirals and she takes it out on you, but she has no idea of the wormhole of feelings she's just opened up

3.6k words

“i didn’t need your help!”

wanda’s hand rockets towards you, jarring you square in the shoulder and nearly knocking you backwards. her other hand, dispelled in crimson swirls, sending the door behind herself slamming shut with such a force you swear the entire compound heard the commotion by now.

“-and what was i supposed to do,” you furrow your brows, perplexed, but with enough venom on your tongue to portray you have no intention of backing down, “not to tell you that i didn’t see your robotic boyfriend with some other woman?”

you stare back at wanda cross, but the bubbling hurt and anger only seems to swell behind green, flecks of red dancing like static in them momentarily.

“vision would never, he actually loves me unlike you spilling lies at me, you’re supposed to be my best friend! why would you make up something like this, out of jealousy?” she spits, seething at this point as she steps towards you in intimidation, though you know the reality of her nature is she would never actually lay a hand on you. 

“you’re not thinking clearly,” you shake your head, sympathy laced in your tone, “even if i am lying, why would i do that knowing it would hurt you? do you think that low of me, wanda?” you can tell your words ring logic through her, she knows you would never do something or say something to intentionally hurt her, but right now she is too jaded to even remotely put herself first over another she loves, nothing unusual for her character.

wanda seems to hesitate, as if her initial counter to your question was not a substantial enough response. she can’t fight logic, not right now. her mind

behind it all, you know she’s hurting, reeling behind a fairytale of whom she saw as a lifelong partner now having deceived her. 

yet, a part of you always saw this coming after all, he was just a construction of wires and vibranium. at some point his ‘brain’ would malfunction, and you didn’t merely assume that just based on your original disdain for him coming into wanda’s life.

“y/n, just go,” the words nearly sting, as selfish as that feels right now when really wanda is the only one with the right to feel anguish. 

unknown to her that for years you’d sat, watching and observing her, silently mesmerized and foolishly in love with the idea that maybe one day wanda would come to terms that the idea of being with you would’ve been a more viable option over vision to begin with. it was torture enough watching them oggle over one another around the compound. 

but now he’s the villain in the story, and it’s not exactly the prime moment to confess your feelings long hidden for her. no, it would be too selfish and look as if you were spinning her hurt into an opportunity. you know it would not be the ideal way to confess your deep desire you’ve held for her, imagining her like a high school crush and what it would be like to be loved in that way by her, instead of the friend pledged in loyalty to her.

“wands-“

“get the fuck out!” this time her words are the ones landing venomously, usually the innocence in the nickname grounds her, but not now. not today.

“i can’t just leave you-“

wanda lurches forward, reaching with brisk hostility to grab your upper arm in an attempt to drag you back to the door and out of her bedroom. but you’re quicker, your reflexes are more time���  thanks to romanoff’s training. your fingers spool around her wrist, stopping the motion and catching her off guard, enough to send her tripping over herself.

“fuck- you-“ this time wanda’s voice cracks, a pant between each for her loss of balance and catching herself before she falls against you. you can hear the innocence and muddled hurt even under the harsh words. any sparks of red had dissipated from the green in her eyes, now overtaken by the rising swell of tears giving them a glassy aura.

your eyes flick to her mouth as the slur falls from her lips, it even looked unnatural coming from them and you certainly couldn’t bear to watch those tears fall. you’d seen her say those words before, but this time it was different. it wasn’t in jest, yet it wasn’t necessarily in hatred or true anger. the only place it was coming from was agony and the incomprehension of her own emotions right now. 

she’d lost so much already, given so much of herself for those she cared about, it only made your heart wretch further. all you wanted to do was console her. 

wanda was so inexplicably close to you right now, enough to feel the heat of her breath on your face. it made the hair at the base of your neck stand up, her scent overwhelming you. your thoughts only whirled further, flashes of knowing how in pain she was.

a mix of impulsivity and selfishness to give in to temptation was overwhelming. all you wanted right now was to try and take her pain away in any way possible right now. a distraction. but also a longing release of your own feelings for her. your thoughts swirl a million miles a minute, briefly forgetting about the current situation you’re in.

before you can comprehend your own thoughts, deciding between right and wrong, the heat of wanda’s breath recedes, replaced with a harsh and violent pressure against your lips. it takes you a moment to understand the situation, wanda’s lips now pressed feverishly against yours. there’s a swelling taste of salt and copper washing through your mouth. a mix of her tears, and a stray drop of blood from the newly opened cut on your bottom lip, caused by the velocity of your lip caught between hers and your teeth. her hands had cupped your face at the initial contact, black nails pressing into the back of your jaw as if you might slip away. it stings at first, but you let it be.

you have to break it, this isn’t right, this is wrong. wrong on so many levels. wanda’s heart was broken right now, and this seemed disingenuous.

but you also can’t ignore the immediate warmth that travels through your abdomen, feeling it spin in guilt but also reprieve for finally feeling wanda’s lips against yours that doesn’t stem from a drunken dare.

still, your mind temporarily outweighs your heart and body, and you jerk back, “wanda.. i can’t, th-this isn’t right.” you fumble over the words, almost trying to explain yourself for an action that you didn’t even initiate. meanwhile, sliding your tongue along your bottom lip to quell the sting and erase any last evidence of blood on the small cut.

“you want to make me forget, you want to help, you want this. so just shut up, and make me feel something else- please.” her tone is desperate, pleading, but also firm on where she stands.

your mouth falls agape, wanting to rebuttal, argue this isn’t how you want it to go, that you actually do love her. but now’s not the time, you can connect the dots that she’d already gotten this idea because she’d picked through your thoughts in that moment of silence where she couldn’t find her own words.

now you only had one thing you could do to actually help her in this moment- make her feel something else. her words, right? she was giving you approval.

wanda seeks the opportunity again, impatient and just as harsh with need. aside from the swelling guilt, you can’t help but indulge simultaneously. you can still taste the reminisce of a stray tear or two, but it’s begun to fade. she’s already begun to lose herself in the moment, letting every other thought leave her mind as she sought safety and pleasure in the only person she had left that she truly cared for. 

you.

both of your feet are nearly tripping over the other, trying to walk backwards towards her bed as your hands finally give in, rising around the back of her neck. your fingers instantly tangle into locks of fiery orange, gripping just enough to encourage wanda to continue. and she does.

the room has already begun to envelope in a heavy heat, ragged and desperate breaths laced in a mix of emotions but ultimately indulged in the moment. the worry of guilt is still there, but now just a small pit in your stomach as her breathing hitches with each step and between barely audible moans.

wanda pressures you further until you’re both stood parallel to the bottom edge of the bed. you prepare for her to break the kiss when you feel her mouth fall slightly more agape. you want to ask her for reassurance, that this is okay.

before you can manage the words, wanda quickly presses her tongue between your parted lips, not hesitating to explore along your own, running hers along the roof of your mouth. you almost feel embarrassed at the amount of saliva welling up in your mouth and hers, but she only swallows it back hungrily. 

a twisting thought wonders if wanda had fantasized this in someway, especially by the speed of her actions, seeming to barely think twice. was there a part of her who had wanted this as well?

the guilt seems void right now, replaced by a thrumming heat gathering between your thighs. wanda seems entirely awash in lust, both your tongues taking turns exploring one another’s mouths.

this time you make your move before wanda can. your hands abandon her hair, quickly working off her jacket, allowing her to shrug it to the floor between kisses as you begin to pull at the bottom hem of her shirt. this time she’s pulls away, but only enough for you to allow space to pull her shirt up and over her head. at first, she doesn’t jump back into the kiss, allowing herself to catch her breath as her hands reach behind her back. it takes you only a second to comprehend.

you had tried not to stare, but as wanda reaches for the strap of her bra to unhook it, you take a second to take in the sight. her breasts perfectly fill the cups of the black bra. it’s simple, no lace or embroidery, just black silk cotton, and still she makes it look like an expensive garment.

in a heartbeat, everything in your face runs cold, as she slips her bra from her shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. you can’t help but indulge now. you’d inappropriately fantasized about wanda’s body before, especially her breasts when she wore that one corset, but having her exposed and vulnerable in front of you felt entirely on another plane of existence.  

her nipples are a perfect tone of rosey-pink, already perky and hardened from what you can only assume is arousal considering you were already both panting from the desperation in the previous kisses. 

you can’t stop yourself, you raise a hand, palm cupping the under of her breast and swiping a thumb over the hardened bud. when the action elicits a shy moan from wanda, it nearly makes you groan in approval as the heat between your legs surmounts with need. “wanda..”

“keep going- i promise, it’s okay, y/n-“ she manages as she seems to adjust herself so that her one breast is flush in your palm now, garnering another subtle moan from the sensitivity. 

you realize this moment is truly going to be all about wanda. not you, even despite the ache between your legs, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way tonight. you had dreamt of wanda desiring you in this way and now she was explicitly asking you.

“i’ll take care of you,” you hold her eyes with yours as you gently readjust you both so that the back of her knees are against the bed, “just can i ask one thing from you?”

wanda wants to question you, you can tell by the faint look of confusion, but she only nods.

“stay standing until you can’t…” even in the dimming light of the room from the sun beginning to set, you swear you can see the faint flush of red in her cheeks as you slightly lower yourself just enough to get your mouth level with her breasts.

wanda gives you a single nod, her hips shifting leading you to assume she’s become as aroused as you are now. for a moment, as she’s looking down to you, you swear you saw the shadow of a nervous smile. you hold her gaze for a moment as you take one of her nipples into your mouth, using a hand to palm and massage the other abandoned breast. 

wanda nearly crumbles at just that, it’s been too long since she’s been touched like this, but she remains upright. 

her head lolls back, a strained “y/n..” falling from her lips in a sultry moan that only encourages you to continue.

you suck at her nipple, occasionally using your teeth to graze the sensitive tissue. your hand stays busy, switching between massaging her breast in your palm and using your thumb to tease the nipple. 

wanda is rather shy for the time being, you can tell she’s trying to hide any roll in her hips, desperate for friction where she needs it most. her moans are still barely audible, but they’re there as you make sure to alternate each breast fairly. 

your free hand massages up her thigh gingerly, following along her pelvis until you stop to work at the button and zipper of her jeans. you’ve been careful to take your time, but not enough to drive her mad just yet.

when you pull your mouth away from her breast along with the other hand, you could’ve sworn you heard the faintest whimper. it satisfies you for a moment knowing how indulged wanda is, and how tentative you’re being with her body.

“why…” wanda manages, but you don’t give her a response. instead, you fully lower yourself, the hand previously working at her jeans now slides the zipper down fully.

“oh…” she manages, chin dropping to watch you get on your knees as you begin to shimmy her jeans down, not hesitating to bring her panties down along with them.

the denim and a pair of black underwear, falls to a clump around her ankles, her legs breaking into an array of goosebumps at her now exposed lower body. as she begins to step out of the restrictive clothing at her feet, you take the opportunity to look at her face for one last vow of approval.

“yes…” wanda’s lips are barely parted, the cold on her mound making her ache even further, “please, y/n… i promise it’s okay.,” 

as if offering further permission, she carefully adjusts her legs enough to just leave ample room for you to glimpse her pussy. she’s still standing in place, knees against the bed just in case they give out as your attention finally shifts to where she needs you most.

you nearly feel the immediate gush between your thighs as you settle onto your knees, now seeing the true picture of desperation. 

wanda’s folds are quite swollen, the tip of her clit just barely peaking out between them, this time you can’t stifle the groan at the sight before you. her slick is painted perfectly along her slit, a bead of it daring to fall at the back of her pussy.

you hungrily lean in, want and temptation over powering anything else now as your body drives you. wanda attempts to brace herself, feeling the heat of your breath against her core as your tongue immediately darts out to lap up the string of slick at her entrance. you barely have a moment to adjust before she cries out from sudden sensitivity. it’s been quite some time for her since she’d been touched like this. vision had long seemed to distance himself, they’d barely shared any intimacy of the sort around the compound in a month or two.

wanda’s knees immediately buckle as her hips rocket forward involuntarily, painting your mouth with her slick as her clit ruts against your nose, “oh– fuck, y/n!”

hearing wanda cry out your name like that only spurs you on further. you’d anticipated teasing her, making her wait, but now it’s you who can’t after tasting her. 

both of your hands shoot up, fingers splaying against the crux of where her thighs meet her pelvis and thumbs delving between wet folds to fully expose her pussy. 

wanda can only react with a string of weak whines, a hand of hers shooting down and fisting into your hair to guide you to where she wants you most. you only oblige, spurred on by the visual of her swollen clit before it’s pressed flat to your tongue.

“fuck!” wanda rolls her hips, encouragingly as her shy moans turn into a slur of expletives and gasps as she rakes her clit over your tongue with each movement and tug of your hair.

her taste is overwhelming, already beginning to saturate your face as she fucks herself against it. you can’t help but moan into her, which sends vibrations along her slit that only makes her drag her entire length along your mouth now, “fuck, yes- you’re doing so good…” she swallows roughly as her head tips back, “make me feel only you, y/n.”

you’d fantasized this moment for a few years now, and the reality of now coming true has you in a chokehold. one of your hands abandons her thigh, eagerly using your ring and middle finger to press between her folds. within a second, her wetness coats your fingers, pressing them deeper until your just brushing against her entrance.

without warning you delve both fingers into her, and wanda immediately loses her balance. the one hand you have at her thigh catches her, allowing her to regain some composure as you withdraw your fingers, only to thrust back into the cling of her walls. 

wanda cries out, her head falling back feeling weightless in her stomach and knees. a good portion of her weight is seated in your palm, the only thing keeping her upright at this point. she’s tight around you as your curl your fingertips to touch at the soft spot that makes her stomach flutter. she can barely manage anything coherent between gasps and whining moans from the slight sting. 

you can already feel wanda chasing her climax. with each thrust of your fingers, her clit slams against the bottom of your palm. it sends her body in near convulsions as her legs tremble as she grows closer to release.

the sound of how wet she is sends you into a frenzy, your fingers diving deeper and more quickly into her pussy. the entirety of your palm has begun to become wet from her slick, beginning to lose friction of her clit as your fingers dare to slip out each time. 

“wanda– cum for me now,” you manage as you readjust your hand more upright, not hesitating as you lean in to drag your tongue across her swollen clit. the taste of her makes you feverish for more. it’s a perfect balance of her sweetness and slight salt. 

wanda immediately buckles, a slur of expletives as the heat in her stomach rises as your tongue continues to rake viciously against her clit, your fingers driving in and out of her. it takes only a few more seconds before she completely unravels. her walls snap tightly around your fingers as she falls to her knees, being unable to catch her in time, you only help her to the ground. 

her hands fall beside her, bracing on the floor as her hips just upwards and as her head falls backwards onto the edge of the bed. your fingers feel slightly sore from her tightness, her pussy fully exposed in front of you as her knees are spread as she sits in front of you. the carpet beneath her garners a small wet stain as she lets her release paint over your hand and down to the ground.

“y/n– that… i’m so sorry,” wanda pants out with remorse as her body settles, you withdraw your fingers quickly, not disingenuously, wiping them on your leg to be able to cup her face as she lowers her head back to look at you. there’s a bit of regret behind her eyes, and she notices the flash of worry, “no– no, you didn’t do anything. i just don’t want you to think i took advantage of you,” wanda’s body relaxes more, beads of sweat on her skin as she sits naked in front of you, apologizing for something that she has no need to. 

“wanda, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that with you,” you look at her sheepishly, and she somewhat offers a smile back to you.

“we’re not done then…” she manages, now looking at you reassuringly, “let me take care of you.”

you look at her, nearly stunned as her hands reach to pull you back into her. “wanda- what about vis-

“no, nothing about him right now, please,” she shifts, her face growing closer to yours, “let that be tomorrow’s problem. let me enjoy you and i tonight, we will worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

you hesitate, but only flash her a toothy smile out of helplessness. if this is what she wants, even after the exhausting outpour of emotions, it gives you the necessary reassurance that wanda wants you in some capacity as well.

so you let her.

[28harryssunflower]

Royal scandal - a mini series: Part 1/4

Royal scandal: Part 1

The grand dining hall of Buckingham Palace was oppressively silent, save for the sound of silverware clinking against fine china. Candlelight flickered off the polished mahogany table, casting long shadows across the velvet-draped walls.

Harry pushed the food around on his plate, barely listening to his mother’s polite small talk with one of the visiting dignitaries. His father sat at the head of the table, regal as always, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a deliberate clearing of his throat, King Edward turned his attention to Harry.

“It’s time we discuss something important,” the King said, setting his wine glass down with a soft clink. The conversation around them quieted instantly.

Harry sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” His father’s tone was firm. “You are twenty-one, Harry. It’s time you start taking your responsibilities seriously.”

Harry exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair. “I am taking my responsibilities seriously.”

The King scoffed. “Is that what you call the drunken outings? The constant presence of your name in the tabloids? The string of women you leave behind without a second thought?”

A muscle in Harry’s jaw tightened. “What I do in my personal life is my business.”

“Not when you are the Prince of England.” The King’s voice grew sharper. “You cannot behave like some reckless commoner with no obligations. Your duty is to this country, to your people. It is time to act like it.”

Queen Anne sighed softly, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“No, we will discuss this now,” the King said. “Harry needs to understand the weight of his position.” He turned back to Harry, eyes cold and unwavering. “You will be married within the next six months.”

Harry froze.

His fork clattered against his plate, the sound echoing through the silent room.

“What?”

“You heard me,” his father continued. “You are of age, and it is time you settle down. If you do not find a suitable wife soon, I will choose one for you.”

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

The King’s expression didn’t waver. “I am.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t just force me into a marriage.”

“You are a prince, Harry. This is how things work. A marriage will stabilize your image and strengthen alliances. You will choose a woman of noble standing, someone with grace, intelligence, and the ability to uphold the duties of a princess. No more scandals, no more reckless behavior.”

Harry pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the marble floor. “And what if I refuse?”

His father’s eyes darkened. “Then I will make the decision for you.”

Harry clenched his fists, rage bubbling beneath his skin. “So that’s it? You’d just hand me off to some woman I don’t even love? Someone who only cares about the title, the money, the power?”

His father’s gaze remained hard. “Love is a luxury, not a necessity.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. “That’s easy for you to say. You already have everything you want.”

Queen Anne frowned, her voice softer. “Harry, I know this may seem unfair, but-“

“No.” He cut her off, his voice sharp. “It’s not fair. It’s my life.”

His father stood, his towering presence only adding to the tension. “You are a prince before you are a man. And you will do what is required of you.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His entire life had been dictated by duty, by expectations, by rules. But this? This was too far.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining hall, ignoring the calls of his mother and the murmurs of the guests. He needed air. He needed an escape.

That was how he found himself in the heart of London hours later, dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie, stepping into a dimly lit bar.

The place smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke, the low hum of conversation blending with the faint sound of a jukebox playing an old rock song. It was exactly what he needed.

Behind the bar, you were wiping down the counter when he approached. You recognized him immediately - how could you not? He was the Prince of England, his face plastered across tabloids and news outlets constantly.

But instead of gawking or treating him like royalty, you simply raised an eyebrow.

“What’ll it be?”

Harry smirked, but there was a bitterness to it. “You’re not gonna bow or curtsy?”

You snorted, leaning on the counter. “You want me to? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you came in here looking like a regular bloke for a reason.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. Most people fawned over him, desperate for a selfie or a conversation that they could brag about later. But you… you didn’t seem to care.

And for the first time that day, Harry felt like he could breathe.

So he told you everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way you just listened, nodding along without judgment. You even did a few shots with him, making sure he had a good time. He didn’t have to be Prince Harry here - he could just be Harry.

And when the night ended, it didn’t feel like a mistake when he ended up in your bed.

One night turned into two. Then three. Then a routine.

Harry kept coming back, and you never asked for anything more than what he was willing to give. No expectations, no pressure. Just him.

But that all came crashing down one night when, at nearly 3AM, frantic knocking at your door jolted you awake.

You barely had time to open it before Harry barreled inside, his face streaked with tears, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“I can’t do this,” he choked out, collapsing into your arms. “My father’s going to start looking for a wife for me. I can’t- I won’t… be forced into some loveless marriage with a woman who only wants the title. I just want-“ He sucked in a breath. “I just want to be happy. I want love. A real family. Not something arranged for me like I’m some pawn.”

You held him, running soothing circles along his back. You wanted to say something comforting, but what words could possibly fix this?

And then, an idea struck.

“Harry,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. “What if… what if you introduced me to them?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“What if we got married?” You swallowed hard, nervous about his reaction. “I mean, at least we like each other. It wouldn’t be forced. And it’d buy you time - keep you from being stuck with someone awful.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “They’d never let me marry a bartender.”

“Then I won’t be a bartender.” You took a breath. “I’ll tell them I’m in college, that I’d drop out for you. We can make this work - we just have to convince them.”

He stared at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

Then, against all odds, a small, breathless laugh escaped his lips.

“You’re mad.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But so are you for coming here at 3AM crying in my arms.”

Harry let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, he looked at you again - really looked at you.

“Alright,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The plan was simple.

Well, as simple as introducing a commoner bartender to the King and Queen of England under the guise of being a respectable college student could be.

Harry sat across from you in your small apartment, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the floor. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

“This is crazy,” he muttered.

You leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “A little.”

“They’ll never go for it.”

You shrugged. “Not if you walk in there doubting it. You have to make them believe it.”

Harry let out a deep sigh and dragged his hands through his curls. You could tell he was struggling. He wanted a way out of this marriage arrangement, but deceiving his family - especially his mother - wasn’t something he took lightly.

“You know they’ll do a background check on you, right?” he asked.

“Obviously,” you said. “Which is why we have to be smart. I’ll tell them I’m in school, that I study… something impressive.”

“Political science,” Harry said quickly. “That would make sense. It would explain why we met - maybe at some charity event or lecture I attended.”

You nodded. “Right. And we’ve been seeing each other for months now, just keeping it quiet.”

Harry exhaled sharply, glancing over at you. “And you’d really do this?”

You looked at him, taking in the uncertainty in his eyes. This wasn’t just about helping him avoid a loveless marriage. It was more than that. Somewhere along the way, what started as casual hookups and late-night conversations had turned into something deeper. You liked him - more than you should have, more than you were willing to admit.

So you swallowed down the nerves creeping up your spine and nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

His lips parted slightly, his gaze searching yours. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he must have found it.

Because he whispered, “Okay.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation.

Harry took care of the logistics, ensuring that you were given the right credentials, setting up a believable history of your supposed time at university. He even had someone help polish up your online presence - social media accounts cleaned up, LinkedIn updated with impressive details that made you sound like a brilliant up-and-coming scholar rather than a bartender slinging drinks to London’s rowdiest crowds.

Meanwhile, you practiced.

You memorized details about your “studies,” learned the etiquette of addressing royals properly (even though Harry assured you that his parents wouldn’t expect you to bow or curtsy), and prepared answers for the inevitable questions about your background.

But the hardest part wasn’t the preparation.

It was the waiting.

The night before you were supposed to meet them, Harry stayed over. You sat together on your couch, both nursing glasses of whiskey, the air between you heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“If this goes wrong…” Harry murmured, staring at his glass.

You shifted closer to him. “Then we deal with it.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

Harry turned his head toward you, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest moment before he shook his head and looked away.

“I don’t deserve this,” he muttered.

You frowned. “Don’t deserve what?”

“This. You.” He swallowed. “I dragged you into this mess, and you’re willing to lie to my entire family just to help me.”

Your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just about helping him.

But instead, you smirked and nudged his shoulder. “Well, I’m not doing it for free. I expect lifetime access to the palace’s wine collection.”

Harry huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Deal.”

Buckingham Palace was even more intimidating in person.

You had never been inside before, and now, standing in the grand foyer with its towering ceilings and ornate chandeliers, you felt very, very small.

Harry stood beside you, dressed in a sharp navy suit, looking every bit the prince he was. He had told you not to be nervous, that his mother would be kind and his father would be fair.

But none of that mattered when the King and Queen of England entered the room.

Queen Anne was graceful and poised, her smile warm as she took you in. She was beautiful, elegant in a way that made you understand why the country adored her.

King Edward, on the other hand, was… intimidating. His gaze was sharp, assessing, his posture rigid as he studied you.

“So,” the King said, his voice deep and measured. “You are the woman my son has been seeing.”

You straightened your spine, keeping your expression polite but neutral. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was a pause. The tension in the room was thick, like everyone was waiting for someone to say something that would determine the entire outcome of this meeting.

Queen Anne smiled. “Harry has spoken highly of you.”

You glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

You turned back to her. “That’s very kind of him.”

“What is it you study?” the King asked.

“Political science,” you answered smoothly. “I’ve always been passionate about government and international relations.”

The Queen tilted her head. “How did you two meet?”

Harry stepped in. “At a private charity event. We got to talking about politics, and we just… connected.”

The King didn’t seem convinced. He studied you for a long moment before finally saying, “And tell me, if this were to continue - if it were to become official - would you be willing to give up your personal ambitions to stand by my son’s side?”

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “If it meant supporting Harry, then yes.”

The Queen seemed pleased with that answer. The King, however, remained unreadable.

Finally, he looked at Harry. “A word. Alone.”

Harry stiffened, but nodded.

You watched as he followed his father out of the room, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Queen Anne turned to you with a kind smile. “Would you like some tea while they talk?”

You managed a smile, but your mind was racing.

The moment the King led Harry out of the room, your stomach twisted into knots.

Queen Anne, ever the picture of warmth and grace, poured you a cup of tea with delicate hands, as if this were nothing more than an afternoon social call. You tried to steady your nerves, tried to ignore the fact that just beyond these walls, Harry was being confronted by one of the most powerful men in the world.

You wrapped your hands around the fine china cup, more for something to hold than to actually drink from it.

The Queen studied you for a moment before speaking. “I must say, I was quite surprised when Harry told us about you.”

You forced a polite smile. “I imagine so.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Not because of who you are, but because Harry has never been one to commit. Not to anything that wasn’t forced upon him.”

Your throat tightened. Was this a test? A warning?

“You must mean a great deal to him if he brought you here,” she continued.

You hesitated before responding. “I’d like to think so.”

The Queen smiled knowingly, but there was something sharp in her eyes, something that told you she wasn’t as easily convinced as she seemed.

You were about to say something else when the doors swung open, and Harry reentered. You barely had time to assess his expression before he turned to you.

“We should go.”

Something was wrong.

You set down your tea and rose to your feet, glancing at the Queen, who simply nodded in farewell. As you followed Harry out of the room, you kept your voice low.

“What happened?”

He didn’t respond until you were outside, stepping into the sleek black car waiting to take you away from Buckingham Palace. The second the doors shut, Harry let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“He doesn’t believe it,” he muttered.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“My father. He doesn’t believe us.”

You swallowed hard. “What did he say?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He said I’m lying. That this is all an act to get out of my arranged marriage. That you’re nothing more than an excuse.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “So what now?”

Harry turned to you, his jaw tight, his green eyes dark with frustration. “Now? Now he’s going to do everything in his power to prove I’m lying.”

Over the next week, the scrutiny was relentless.

The palace had people digging into your past, scouring every detail of your life, looking for any reason to dismiss you. Paparazzi started sniffing around, and before long, tabloids were already speculating about Harry’s “mystery woman.”

You’d never been under this kind of microscope before. At work, people whispered when they saw you. Your coworkers asked questions. And when the first grainy photos of you and Harry surfaced online - him walking you to your door, his hand lingering on your waist - the media frenzy only grew worse.

But the real pressure came from within the palace itself.

Queen Anne invited you to lunch three days after your meeting, her expression as gentle as ever but her words careful. “You must understand,” she said, her hands folded neatly on the table, “this isn’t just about Harry. It’s about the monarchy, about the future of the country. If you truly care for him, you must be prepared for what this life entails.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

And then there was the King.

He summoned you alone one evening, without Harry’s knowledge. The meeting took place in one of the palace’s smaller sitting rooms, the air thick with unspoken tension.

The King sat across from you, his sharp eyes assessing, calculating. “You think this will work?” he asked bluntly.

You held his gaze. “I think Harry should be allowed to choose his own future.”

A small, humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And you believe you are that future?

You swallowed, keeping your expression steady. “I believe I care about him enough to try.”

The King leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “Tell me, how much is he paying you?”

The words struck like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to let the shock show.

“I’m sorry?”

The King’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so cold. “I know my son. He is desperate to escape the obligations placed upon him, desperate enough to go to great lengths to do so.” He tilted his head. “So tell me - how much did he offer you? Money? Status? What was the deal?”

Your blood ran cold.

Your entire life, you had been underestimated, dismissed by people who thought they were better than you. But this - this was the King of England accusing you of being a gold-digger, a liar, a pawn in his son’s game.

And you wouldn’t stand for it.

You straightened your shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don’t need Harry’s money. I don’t need his title. I don’t need anything from him.”

The King studied you, but you weren’t done.

“I didn’t come into his life looking for a way out of mine. And I certainly didn’t agree to this relationship because of what he could offer me. I care about him. I see him as a person, not just a prince. And if that’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know what is.”

A beat of silence passed.

And then, to your utter shock, the King chuckled.

It was a deep, knowing sound, like he had expected you to break and was almost impressed that you hadn’t. He stood, brushing nonexistent dust off his perfectly tailored suit.

“Well then,” he said. “I suppose we’ll see how long you last.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving you alone in the vast, empty room.

Your hands trembled slightly as you exhaled.

This wasn’t just a test anymore.

This was war.

When you told Harry about the conversation later that night, he was furious.

“He what?” Harry’s voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists as he paced your apartment. “He accused you of- bloody hell.”

You sat on the couch, watching him wear a hole into your floor. “Harry, calm down.”

“No.” He stopped, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “He had no right to do that. No right to treat you like-” He cut himself off, his jaw tight.

You stood, walking over to him and resting a hand on his arm. “I handled it.”

Harry’s expression softened slightly, but the frustration didn’t leave his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You sighed. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. And honestly? I think your dad respects me more now.”

Harry let out a breath, dragging a hand through his curls. “That makes one of us.”

You smirked. “Oh, come on. What would be the fun in this if there wasn’t a bit of royal drama?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

Harry exhaled and cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Here we are.”

And as he kissed you, slow and deep, you realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just a plan anymore.

You were falling for him.

And if this all went wrong, you weren’t sure your heart would survive it.

It had been two weeks since your confrontation with the King.

Two weeks of scrutiny, of whispered meetings with Harry in your apartment, of watching the media dissect every little movement you made. The palace hadn’t officially acknowledged your relationship, but the press had already put the pieces together. Every tabloid ran their own version of the story - some calling you a mystery scholar, others labeling you a gold-digger who had seduced the prince.

And through it all, Harry had been by your side.

He showed up at your apartment almost every night, exhausted and frustrated, but unwilling to let this fight go. You’d stay up for hours, strategizing your next move, trying to find a way to win his father over. But as much as you prepared, you knew one thing - if the King had already made up his mind, nothing would change it.

And that became painfully clear when Harry got the news.

The King had begun the search for his future wife.

Harry stormed into your apartment that night, his face red with anger, his curls a mess from running his hands through them. The moment he saw you, he grabbed your face and kissed you - desperate, urgent, like he needed to remind himself that you were real.

When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily.

“He’s doing it,” he spat. “He’s already selecting candidates. He’s meeting with their families, setting up discreet meetings.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Harry-“

“I won’t do it.” His voice was sharp, unwavering. “I won’t marry some aristocrat I don’t know. I won’t be forced into a life I don’t want.”

You swallowed, reaching for his hands. “Then we have to do something.”

He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening around yours. “Like what?”

And that’s when the idea hit you.

“An engagement.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

You took a deep breath. “If we announce our engagement first - publicly - then your father will have no choice but to acknowledge us. He can’t force you into another marriage if the world already sees you as taken.”

Harry stared at you, his green eyes searching yours. “That’s insane.”

You shrugged. “A little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, to your shock, Harry let out a small, breathless laugh.

“You’re serious.”

You lifted a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Because this isn’t just pretending anymore. This would mean… forever.”

Something in your chest tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “Is that really so bad?”

Harry’s expression shifted. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not if it’s with you.”

Your breath caught.

And then, just like that, the decision was made.

The palace was in chaos.

The moment Harry posted a simple photo on Instagram - his hand wrapped around yours, a stunning engagement ring on your finger - the world erupted.

News outlets scrambled for statements. Social media went into a frenzy. And within an hour, Buckingham Palace was forced to issue a public response.

You sat in your apartment, your phone buzzing nonstop, watching the royal spokesperson deliver a carefully worded statement on TV.

“His Royal Highness Prince Henry has announced his engagement. The Royal Family was not made aware of this decision beforehand, but we offer our congratulations and will provide further statements in due course.”

Not exactly the warmest endorsement.

But it didn’t matter. Because now, the entire world knew.

And that meant the King couldn’t erase you.

Harry had warned you that the palace would summon you soon.

He just didn’t expect it to happen the next morning.

You barely had time to process the news before a sleek black car arrived at your apartment, and suddenly, you were being driven straight to Buckingham Palace.

By the time you entered the grand hall, your nerves were on fire.

Harry was already there, standing tall in front of his parents. Queen Anne looked composed, her lips pressed together as she studied you. But King Edward…

He was furious.

His gaze cut through you like a blade. “So this is how you do things?” he said coldly. “Announcing an engagement without our approval? Trapping us into accepting this circus?”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to back down. You lifted your chin. “Harry made his choice.”

The King scoffed. “A choice? No, this is manipulation. A desperate attempt to back us into a corner.” His sharp eyes turned to Harry. “And you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice unwavering. “I chose her.”

The King clenched his jaw. “Do you even understand the consequences of this? You think you can just marry some commoner and expect the world to accept it?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Maybe the world would accept it if you did.”

The tension was suffocating.

And then, for the first time, Queen Anne spoke.

“I’d like a moment alone with her.”

Everyone turned to look at her. The King frowned, but after a long pause, he nodded. “Fine.”

Harry hesitated before turning to you. His fingers brushed against yours in a silent reassurance before he followed his father out of the room.

And then it was just you and the Queen.

She studied you for a long moment before finally speaking. “Are you in love with him?”

The question caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Were you?

This had started as a plan - a way to protect Harry from an arranged marriage. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen. Fallen for his laughter, his late-night rants about music, the way he looked at you like you were the only person who had ever really seen him.

So you took a deep breath and told the truth.

“Yes.”

Queen Anne’s expression didn’t change. “And do you truly believe you can handle this life?”

You swallowed. “I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, to your shock, she let out a soft chuckle.

“You remind me of myself,” she murmured.

You blinked. “What?”

She smiled, but there was a knowing sadness in her eyes. “When I married Edward, I wasn’t what the world expected, either. I was too bold, too outspoken, too… untraditional.” She sighed. “But I loved him. And I fought for my place here.”

She met your gaze.

“So if you truly love my son, then fight for him.”

Your breath caught. “Does that mean…?”

The Queen smiled faintly. “It means I won’t stand in your way.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

She wasn’t giving you full approval. Not yet.

But she was giving you a chance.

And right now, that was more than enough.

When you walked out of the room, Harry was waiting.

The moment he saw you, he rushed forward, his hands finding yours. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, then smiled.

“She’s on our side.”

Harry’s lips parted in shock. Then, without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground.

And as he kissed you - right there in the halls of Buckingham Palace - you realized something.

This wasn’t a plan anymore.

This was real.

And you were ready to fight for it.

You weren’t surprised when the King requested to see you alone.

After all, Queen Anne may have been willing to give you a chance, but King Edward? He wasn’t one to accept things so easily.

So when a royal advisor arrived at your apartment with the summons, you didn’t hesitate. You knew what this was. A test. A final attempt to break you, to make you doubt yourself, to push you into walking away.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You were led through the grand halls of Buckingham Palace, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Every corner of this place reminded you that you didn’t belong here - not yet. But if the King thought he could intimidate you into submission, he was about to be very disappointed.

The advisor finally stopped in front of a massive oak door. “He’s waiting inside,” he said stiffly.

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped in.

King Edward was seated in a large armchair near the fireplace, his posture straight, his hands folded neatly over his knee. The room was dimly lit, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face. He didn’t look up immediately, instead staring at the fire as if deep in thought.

You didn’t speak first. If there was one thing you’d learned from watching him, it was that he commanded every room he was in. He expected obedience. Expected people to fold under his silence.

So you waited.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his gaze toward you.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a request.

But you stayed standing.

“I’d rather not.”

His brow arched slightly, the first sign of surprise. “Is that so?”

You lifted your chin. “If you called me here just to intimidate me, Your Majesty, I’d rather skip the formalities.”

Something flickered in his eyes - annoyance, amusement, you weren’t sure. He studied you for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “I think I love your son.”

His jaw tightened. “Love.” He let the word linger in the air before scoffing. “Do you have any idea what it means to love someone like Harry? What it means to be part of this family?”

“I understand more than you think.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Then you understand that this isn’t a fairy tale. You are not a princess. You are not meant for this life.”

You clenched your fists. “Who decides that? You?”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “I decide. Because I have spent my entire life protecting this family, this monarchy, from people like you.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “People like me?”

“People who don’t understand what this life requires. People who think love is enough to survive it. People who will break under the weight of it.” His eyes burned into yours. “You think you’re ready for this? Ready to be scrutinized, criticized, torn apart by the press? Ready to be hated by the people who don’t believe you deserve to stand beside him? Ready to sacrifice your life, your privacy, your freedom?”

Your throat tightened. You had thought about it. But hearing it like this - so brutally, so coldly - made it real.

Still, you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care what the press says about me,” you said firmly. “I don’t care about the public’s approval. I don’t care about titles or palaces or any of this.” You took a step forward, your voice unwavering. “The only thing I care about is Harry. And I won’t walk away just because you think I should.”

The King’s expression darkened. “You are playing a dangerous game.”

“So are you.” You met his gaze without flinching. “Because if you keep pushing Harry away, you’ll lose him.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed. “You think he’d leave his family?”

“I think he’s already considering it.”

That hit its mark.

For the first time, King Edward looked genuinely unsettled.

Good.

You took another step forward, your voice softening just enough. “I don’t want to take him from you. I don’t want to be the reason he walks away. But if you force him into a life he doesn’t want… if you push him into a marriage that will make him miserable… he will leave.”

Silence.

The King stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, “Do you truly love him?”

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. When he looked at you again, something in his gaze had shifted.

Not acceptance. Not approval.

But understanding.

“Then prove it.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“If you truly love my son,” the King said, standing to his full height, towering over you, “then prove it. Prove that you can handle this life. That you can handle me.”

You squared your shoulders. “I already have.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but refused to.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked past you, leaving the room.

The moment the door shut behind him, you finally exhaled, your hands shaking.

You had won - for now.

But this war wasn’t over.

Not yet.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the door finally opened again.

Harry rushed in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tense. “What did he say to you?”

You swallowed, still feeling the weight of the conversation. “He tested me.”

Harry stepped closer, reaching for your hands. His were warm, steady - grounding. “What do you mean?”

You met his gaze. “He wanted me to back down. To walk away. To prove that I wasn’t strong enough for this.”

Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Of course he did.” His grip tightened around yours. “And?”

You let out a slow breath. “I didn’t.”

His expression softened, something like admiration flickering in his green eyes. “You stood up to him.”

You gave a small, tired smile. “For you? Always.”

Harry cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “You shouldn’t have to fight for me.”

“But I will.” You held his gaze, unwavering. “If that’s what it takes, I will.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, but there was something vulnerable in it. Like he wasn’t used to being fought for. Like he had spent his whole life being treated as an asset, a pawn in the monarchy’s game. And now, here you were, standing in front of him - defying the King himself - just to be with him.

His lips met yours, slow and lingering, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into the kiss. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you.” His voice was hoarse, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for too long.

Your breath hitched. You had known it - felt it - but hearing it was something else entirely.

You smiled, your fingers curling around his collar. “I love you too.”

A soft knock at the door made you both pull apart.

A royal advisor stepped in, looking as stiff as ever. “His Majesty requests an audience with the Prince.”

Harry frowned. “Alone?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Harry looked back at you, hesitation flickering across his face. You squeezed his hand. “Go,” you whispered. “See what he wants.”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly reluctant, but nodded. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before following the advisor out of the room.

And you?

You stayed behind, your mind spinning.

Because while you had won the first battle, you knew the war was far from over.

Harry returned hours later, his face unreadable as he shut the door behind him.

You stood from the couch immediately. “What happened?”

Harry dragged a hand through his curls before finally looking at you. “He gave me a choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “What choice?”

His jaw clenched. “Stay in the royal family and marry someone of his choosing… or leave it all behind.”

Silence.

Your heart pounded. “Harry…”

His eyes softened as he stepped forward, his hands settling on your waist. “I told him my answer before he even finished speaking.”

You swallowed hard. “Which is?”

His thumb brushed against your hip. “You.”

Your breath caught.

Harry took a deep breath, his voice steady. “I’d rather walk away from the crown than lose you.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His hands moved to cradle your face. “I was born into this, but it’s not my life. It’s theirs. And if I have to give it up to be happy, then so be it.”

You shook your head, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I don’t want you to resent me-“

“I could never resent you.” His gaze was fierce, unwavering. “You are the only thing in my life that feels real. And I won’t let my father take that from me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “What happens now?”

Harry’s lips pressed into a firm line. “We fight.”

And looking into his eyes, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t fighting alone.

You weren’t going to stand by and let this happen.

The moment Harry told you what his father had said - what he was threatening - something inside you snapped.

You knew the King didn’t approve of you. That he wanted you gone. But to go as far as to force Harry to choose between you and his entire family?

No. Absolutely not.

So while Harry was in another wing of the palace, distracted in a meeting, you stormed through the halls of Buckingham Palace with a fire in your veins. The staff gawked as you passed, but no one dared to stop you. Maybe it was the determination in your stride, or maybe they were simply too stunned to believe what they were seeing - a commoner marching straight toward the King’s office unannounced.

You didn’t knock.

You pushed open the heavy oak doors with more force than necessary, making them slam against the walls.

King Edward looked up from his desk, startled for only a second before his expression turned to cold disapproval.

“You are out of line,” he said sharply.

You didn’t care.

You stepped inside, shutting the doors behind you. “You can’t do this to him.”

The King leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a blank expression. “Do what?”

“Don’t play games with me.” Your voice shook with anger. “You know what. You can’t just kick your own son out of the family because he refuses to be your puppet.”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “You think this is my doing? Harry made his own choice.”

“No, you forced his hand.” You stepped closer, slamming your hands onto his desk. “You gave him an impossible choice: abandon me or abandon his entire family. Do you even hear yourself?”

His jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

Your chest heaved, your voice growing desperate. “You’re supposed to be his father. His family. And instead of supporting him, you’re pushing him away. You’re punishing him for wanting to be happy.”

King Edward let out a slow breath, his gaze sharp. “And what would you have me do? Let him throw away centuries of tradition for a woman who doesn’t belong in this world?”

You clenched your fists. “I don’t give a damn about tradition. What I care about is Harry. And whether you like it or not, he’s still your son. You can’t just cut him off because he refuses to live his life according to your rules.”

The King studied you, his eyes cold. “And why do you care so much? Is it because you fear losing your new luxurious lifestyle?”

Your anger flared so hot it nearly burned.

“You think this is about money?” Your voice rose, filled with frustration. “You think I’m doing all of this because I want a title? A palace? You have no idea who I am.”

The King arched a brow. “Enlighten me, then.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady. “I love Harry. Not because he’s a prince. Not because of his wealth or his status. I love him because he’s kind. Because he’s funny and stubborn and passionate. Because he’s the only person who has ever truly seen me.” You swallowed hard, eyes burning. “And I refuse to let you take him away from the people who love him just because he refuses to be your perfect prince.”

Silence.

You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating.

But you didn’t back down.

“I will fight for him,” you continued, voice unwavering. “I will fight for his happiness, for his right to choose his own life. Even if it means standing against you, I won’t give up on him.”

For a moment, the King just stared at you.

And then-

He grinned.

A slow, amused grin that made your stomach twist.

“Welcome to the family.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “You passed.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His smirk deepened. “You think I was really going to cast my own son out?” He scoffed. “Harry may be reckless, but he’s still mine. I needed to see if you were strong enough to stand by him. If you’d crumble under pressure… or if you’d fight for him.”

Realization hit you like a freight train.

“This was all a test?” you said in disbelief.

The King’s expression turned knowing. “Did you really think I’d let my son marry someone who wouldn’t protect him?” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Harry is emotional. Impulsive. He needs someone who will stand their ground, someone who won’t walk away when things get difficult.” He gave you a pointed look. “And you just proved that you’re exactly that person.”

You were still reeling. “So… you approve?”

The King chuckled, standing from his chair. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He smirked. “But I’ll allow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. After everything - every argument, every moment of doubt - he was letting you stay.

You had won.

Just as you were about to respond, the doors suddenly flew open again.

Harry stormed in, his green eyes wide with panic. “What the hell is going on?” His gaze darted between you and his father, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I leave for one hour and suddenly you’re having a meeting without me?”

You turned to him, still stunned. “Harry…”

The King smirked. “Relax, son. Your little spitfire here just proved herself.”

Harry blinked, completely thrown. “Proved herself?”

The King clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. You chose well.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Wait- you mean?-“

“I won’t stand in your way,” Edward said simply. Then he turned to you, eyes glinting with something almost… proud. “But be warned, young lady - being part of this family is no easy task.”

You lifted your chin. “I never expected it to be.”

The King studied you for a final moment before nodding. “Good.” He glanced at Harry. “Try not to embarrass me, son.”

And with that, he strode past both of you, leaving the office like nothing had happened.

Harry stared after him, then turned to you. “What the hell just happened?”

You let out a breathless laugh, still processing. “I think… we won.”

Harry blinked. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You shrieked in surprise, laughing as he kissed you - deep, desperate, filled with relief.

When he set you back down, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You did this for me?”

You smiled. “I’d do anything for you.”

His green eyes burned with love. “God, I love you so much.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew - this was just the beginning.

The moment the King gave his reluctant approval, everything changed.

There was no more hiding, no more sneaking around. The press exploded with headlines about Prince Harry’s shocking engagement to a commoner, the royal advisors scrambled to prepare the public for the news, and the palace staff suddenly had to make space for you in Buckingham Palace.

And you?

You were caught in the middle of a whirlwind.

Standing in your tiny apartment, surrounded by half-filled boxes, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

This place had been yours. A space that belonged to no one else, where you had lived freely, without the weight of the crown pressing down on you.

Now, you were about to trade it all for a palace.

For him.

Harry sat on your couch, watching as you folded a sweater into a box labeled clothes. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers playing with the rings on his hand.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You exhaled, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It’s just… weird.”

Harry nodded, understanding. “I get it. This is a big change.”

You looked at him, searching his face. “Are you sure about this? About me moving in?”

Harry scoffed, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time I woke up in your bed.” His lips brushed against your temple. “I want you there. I want to fall asleep with you every night. Wake up with you every morning.”

Your heart melted a little. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you, love.” He smirked before looking around the apartment. “Do you want to keep this place?”

You hesitated.

“I mean… it’s not like I need it,” you admitted. “But it’s the first place that ever felt like mine, you know?”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Then keep it.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smile was soft. “You don’t have to live here, but it can still be yours. Somewhere to escape when the palace gets too much.”

Your chest tightened. How did he always know exactly what you needed?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Walking into the palace with your belongings felt surreal.

The grand halls, the expensive paintings, the endless corridors - it still didn’t feel real. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You lived here now.

Staff members were already bringing in your boxes, setting them in the suite you’d now share with Harry. It was massive, more like an apartment within the palace itself, with high ceilings, antique furniture, and a balcony overlooking the royal gardens.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

Harry grinned, leaning against the doorway. “A bit different from your apartment, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Just a bit.”

He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You’ll get used to it.”

You leaned into him, sighing. “I don’t want to lose myself, Harry.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re you - the woman who stormed into my father’s office and yelled at the King of England.” He chuckled. “Trust me, no palace is gonna change you.”

You smiled, relaxing into his embrace.

Maybe he was right.

The next few weeks were absolute chaos.

Meetings with royal advisors, endless dress fittings, security briefings, and etiquette lessons that made your head spin. There were rules to follow now - how to sit, how to speak, how to wave (yes, there’s an actual royal wave).

Every day was another step closer to the wedding.

And every day, it felt more real.

One afternoon, you sat in the Queen’s private sitting room, flipping through a massive book of wedding venue options. Queen Anne sat across from you, poised and elegant as ever, but her gaze was warm.

“You must be exhausted,” she said knowingly.

You exhaled, nodding. “There’s just… a lot to take in.”

She smiled. “That’s an understatement.”

You hesitated before speaking. “How did you handle it? When you married the King?”

Her smile faltered just slightly, as if she were recalling something distant. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “I had to fight for my place, just like you.” She studied you for a moment. “But I see now why Harry chose you. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. “Thank you.”

She nodded, flipping to another page in the book. “Now, let’s pick a venue before the King takes over and insists on Westminster Abbey.”

You laughed. “God forbid.”

She smirked. “Exactly.”

For the first time, you felt like you truly belonged.

This wedding - this life - was yours. And you were ready.

The morning of your wedding dawned with a golden sunrise spilling through the palace windows. The air buzzed with nervous excitement, and the entire world seemed to be watching.

Today, you would officially become a member of the royal family.

[spaceyjessa]

Clone x OC Week Day 1 : Introduction

Pairings: Solé x Crosshair Rating: G / SFW Words: 1,092 Warnings: Order 66 Mention, brief mentions of grief, absolute second hand embarrassment (please my girl is a disaster I love her)

Synopsis: Solé is doing her best to adjust to life on Pabu, but after her life was turned upside down by Order 66, all she finds herself wanting is to go home to Naboo. Until she meets someone who might be even more out of place than she is.

@clonexocweek Thank you for hosting this event!

Pabu was few little pieces of the familiar wrapped up in a galaxy of unknowns. She had tried to adapt. Adaption was key. With enough work to keep her busy and on the verge of exhaustion she had found a way to accept the life happening around her. For better or worse. But she couldn’t shake the sense that it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t Naboo.

With foods she understood and soil that didn’t fight her every time she tried to grow a plant. Every simple thing she had taken for granted, every smell and sound and taste, was left behind on a world she didn’t recognize while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Solé shook the thoughts away as she strode into the marketplace. No, here is where I am. And that’s all there was too it. The marketplace was just as unfamiliar as the rest of Pabu, a breath of Naboo whispered by in the sunshine that fell along the stalls but the wares in them, the foods and trinkets, all refugees of another world left her feeling hollow. Her appetite had been growing thinner by the day and as someone who studied nutrition and food for a living she knew she would have to put her anxieties away and at least try to eat something.

She had been on Pabu for a few weeks, thrown by earthquakes, threatened by the Empire she was trying to escape, and finally a relative peace had settled. Solé wished her shaking hands and anxious heart would see it the same way. There were more refugees now. Like her, but not like her. Clones who had been betrayed by their leaders. By their own bodies. Shep had explained it all to her when she wasn’t able to face them, clued her into the truth of what had happened when he had brought some of them to her as patients.

Soldiers, battle weary and heavy, they seemed to adapt faster than her to the light buoyant atmosphere of the island or they would shuttle off to help the cause. The cause was something so vast that Solé had trouble really imagining it. A part of her ached for it. Ached for answers to what had happened. Esteemed senator dead, chancellor so different than he appeared, and the Jedi…her heart clenched and she thought of the brother she had known as a child. Such a bright eyed boy. The galaxy was a vacuum now sucking away anything familiar and leaving her…here.

It was silly really, but Solé could almost feel it was the Force that made her look up towards that one particular stall. A slender man was standing very still in front of the stall that was selling some sort of fruit that looked deceptively familiar to her homesick heart. The man was standing with stiff shoulders, scarring on one side of his head, and though he wasn’t as sturdily built as the others she could guess right away from his military bearing that he was a clone. He was looking between the fruits, a scowl deepening the lines around his mouth and brows knit together. He picked one up with his left hand, examined it, put it back.

He looked as out of his depth as she felt on that particular afternoon. “Do you need a hand?” Solé approached on instinct, it wasn’t her way not to help someone especially if it had anything to do with food. He didn’t respond at first until Solé sidled up next to him, repeating her question.

The man turned to face her fully and a fierce blush colored her fair skin.

Hand.

He only had one. Her earlier words ricocheted around in her head like a stampeding Shaak. One eyebrow raised and his brown eyes were full of caution, if not down right irritation. Solé did what she always did during confrontation or embarrassment. She made it worse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean a hand in that sense—I meant do you need any help? Not that I don’t believe that you’re capable of helping yourself because of your disability—“ She was willing herself to just stop talking, she really was. Whatever other gibberish passed out of her mouth was put to a mercifully abrupt stop.

“Crosshair! Did you get everything?” A young blonde girl, bounded up to him and when his attention turned Solé took it as the opportunity that it was.

She wouldn’t necessarily say she ran from the situation, but she was at her little base — she couldn’t call it home — with her back firmly pressed against the closed front door, cheeks still burning from embarrassment before the pair had been able to turn back to her. Angry tears stung the corner of her eyes and she rested her closed fist against her forehead before running the thin braid she kept in her hair between her fingers. She tried to summon up some Jedi saying, something her mother had always whispered to her in times of distress to remind her of her brother, and came up short. All she could do was resign herself to a dinner of leftovers from the conservator and try to forget today had ever happened.

By the time Solé woke up the next morning the sting of embarrassment had lessened, at least partially. She had repeated the scene in her mind enough times, assured herself that it was a perfectly understandable accident and vowed never to make eye contact with that man again. Everything was fine.

After brewing a pot of caf, pouring the hot water from her kettle slowly over the ground beans and admiring the rich scent that reminded her of a thousand late nights and early mornings, she went outside. The sun was bright and she vaguely wondered if she had overslept again when her foot hit something on her tiny garden path.

A bag.

A bag full to the brim of yellow fruits with dimpled skin. Solé stooped and spied a note tucked into one side. She drew out the piece of flimsi and unfolded it as best she could with one hand as she took a sip of the still too hot caf.

‘Looks like you were the one who needed a hand. Ironic.’ Solé’s face burned even redder than it had the day before, but this time there was a smile too.

Author's Note: I'm so excited to be posting things for Solé finally! I've been developing her as a character since November and getting to share her is so exciting! Hope you enjoyed reading their first meeting <3

[coupsalchemy]

genre: fluff, boyfriend! Jeonghan, university au

Warnings: none

You glare at your laptop screen, stuck between holding yourself from slamming it to the wall or magically will the results of your assignment. But none of it happens leaving you frustrated.

Entire day has been an event after an event, waking up late, missing the bus and losing an impromptu quiz due to your tardiness. Now stuck with an assignment due tonight. You know life isn’t fair, and it’s your fault to expect some kindness from the universe.

The library is filled with students typing away on their laptops, concentrated frowns on their faces. Couples are everywhere, boys casually resting their arm over their girl’s chair watching her do work. Suddenly you miss your man. It was hard to leave the bed with him holding on to you as if you are his lifeline. His cuddles, warmth from his neck where you nuzzled yourself in and his kisses keeps you in the bed, basking in his love.

You check the time and realise he must be done with his classes. You pull up his chat and type away a message when the chair next to you is pulled. Jeonghan plops on the chair, leaving his bag on the floor next to yours. He shakes his head once, trying to get his long hair in order, running his fingertips across it to flatten the strands.

He scoots closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours, and his hand comes down resting on your lap. He peers over your screen reading the text you just sent him. A low chuckle escape his lips, leaning in kissing your cheek. His lips linger a second longer, and before parting he kisses behind your ear, on the hair strands covering your face.

“I didn’t know you were building a bird nest.” Jeonghan teases, his fingers playing with your unruly hair, tugging slightly. “Look, a bird is trying to fly in, found her home maybe.”

You pinch his thigh, not even getting a wince from your attempt of violence. His fingers work relentlessly to tone down your wild (not as wild as he makes it) hair.

You turn to him, causing his hand to fall from your hair to your lap. “I didn’t bring a hair tie.” Your lower lip juts out, as you recount the happenings of your day to him. He listens to your rambling, a frown on his face, and his eyes locked somewhere on your neck.

“Hanie.” You whine, “listen to me.”

He smiles, biting on your lower lip before his hand finds your hair again. He gently pulls the hair stuck in your shirt with a sigh. “Turn around.” He taps on your hip with other hand. “One semester we don’t have classes together and I trusted your ability to survive but here I am.”

Your heart warms as he pulls his hoodie sleeve up, and your hair tie is on his wrist. He drags the tie off his hand, and nudges your waist again. You turn around, obliging him, he pulls your hair into a ponytail, and gently ties it with the hair tie.

He kisses your bare neck, “no more missing buses and running around like a mad woman.”

You grin at him, happiness blooming inside you at his warmth and care. He just knows what you need.

Jeonghan’s heart melts seeing your cheeky smile, and the happy beat in you. He shakes his head fondly, a smile escaping him too. God, he is a sucker for you.

[pixie77x2001]

Here are my answers :D

Giacomo: Giacomo isn’t only my favorite character but also my comfort character Giacomo has helped me mentally when I was having a difficult time of my life due to personal reasons (won’t explain it btw) but if I could speak to Giacomo personally like ever I would thank him for making my days a lot brighter when I was going through a lot and since 2023 back in November I started simping for him since he makes me so happy

Giacomo: (yes again lol) I liked him the first time I saw him and I know his first battle with him is quick but I always enjoyed seeing him and pretty much the same reason why I favorite him as my favorite team star member

Teal Mask DLC: i honestly enjoyed the area and the music too I find it very relaxing yet fun to play and do on there and also got to meet Kieran for the first time and yes my all time favorite character from the DLC

Drayton: I would say Drayton not only he immediately became my all time favorite elite four member but also straight up hilarious and I love his lay back vibe and honestly I don’t see him as a “Jerk” to me he’s just a chill guy after all

Here’s my opinion on the area zero crew: (note: don’t hate on me for my humble opinion) (Penny: I really love her character a lot and I honestly see my younger self in her and yet she reminds me so much of myself probably the most relatable character I relate to my favorite poke girl by far) (Nemona: I do like her character too I especially love her love for Pokémon battles and especially her bubbly personality not my most favorite character but I like her better then other characters) (Arven: I’m not crazy about Arven I do like him quite funny and all but one thing that makes me angry that he literally spams the “rock polish” a while I’m doing all the heavy work like it always makes me so angry I know defensive is good but it can’t completely save you but other then that I do like him not enough to be a love or be a favorite though)

Here’s my opinion on the sibling relationship between Kieran & Carmine: honestly I prefer Kieran over Carmine because not only she treats him horribly and was horrible to him in general but make us lie to Kieran! I won’t ever forgive Carmine for that and no one can make me like her like at all

Here’s my opinion on the BB league members: I find them a fun yet relatable friend group and I love each and every one of them sm

Slither Wing: my god what a cutie I love how fluffy it is and it’s probably my all time favorite and I may use it sometime whenever I replay the game :O

Revavroom: I would say Revavroom not only it’s a cool Pokémon and it’s both my favorite steel and poison type it honestly has the best shiny form I ever seen like a GOLDEN CAR like come on! You can’t tell me that isn’t one of the most prettiest shinys ever and true story I also lost a shiny Revavroom that disappeared before I could get to it I was is upset and still am :’/

Starfall Street: I love the story behind team star and the quest itself not only because I get to see my two favorites Giacomo and Atticus But the story of team star had my attention the most in the game i love coming up with theories about them as for team star’s bullies…whoever they were I’m not forgiving them especially when they hurt my boi Giacomo (may do a post of my theories on team star’s bullies in the future) was such a emotional yet heart warming story and overall probably the most relatable back story because I was bullied as well back in school so if I knew Team star’s sooner I could give them a call lol

Here are my thoughts: I do hope to see a sequel because not only I wanna see who team star bullies were since there off screen characters at the moment but to see flashbacks that we didn’t get to see like see team star’s bullies from there view and figure out where they been all that time after leaving the academy and also see what team star from is up too but like I said I will make a future post on my theory on them soon so stay tuned for that)

Please don’t hate on my opinion on the things I listed

Pokemon Scarvio themed reblog/tag game!

-- ❤️: Favorite character?

-- ⭐️: Favorite Team Star member?

-- 0️⃣: Favorite DLC character?

-- 💥: Favorite Gym leader/Elite four?

-- 📝: Opinion on each of the Zero Crew? (Arven, Penny, Nemona)

-- 🌲: Opinion on the Kitakami siblings?

-- 🫐: Opinion on the BB league members?

-- ⏱️: Favorite Paradox Pokemon?

-- 💛: Favorite Paldean Pokemon?

-- 📖: Favorite storyline? (Ex: Mochi mayhem, Starfall street)

-- 🗣️: Anything you want to say about Scarvio? (Infodump, a rant, or just other thoughts)

Feel free to infodump alongside your answers! Anyone is allowed to reblog :3

[katierosefun]

actually as much as i love mike and harvey together. i feel so sad for rachel zane because imagine falling in love with your coworker and then you learn that your coworker is a fake lawyer but not only that, your coworker is a fake lawyer who would literally do anything for his boss. he'll literally leave you at the altar to go to prison for his boss. he'll try to quit his job multiple times but keep coming back because his boss asked him to come back. he'll move to seattle with you, and you'll breathe a sigh of relief because it means that it can finally just be the two of you, but then you learn that he's inviting his stupid former boss to join them. and his stupid former boss agrees. you smile because your husband is so stupid happy at the idea of working with his former boss again, but you've seen this film one too many times before, and you are going to be subject to watching your husband choose his stupid former boss-slash-friend over you again and again and again and again and again and ag

[calamitys-child]

Maybe this'll be a poem eventually maybe its just on the ceiling but. I'm once again struck by the idea that we are visible in the springtime, you will see us all the ever-lengthening day; we remember as the winter snaps shut round us, because every breath, every proof of life is crystalline and irrefutable in freezing air.

[gethoce]

ALRIGHT time for Anat's turn!! :>

1: If your partner could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be?

Anat grabs a chalk board and leans back far, staring at the ceiling for a moment, eyes squinting as she's thinking. “Wine doesn't count, huh? Guess that's more of a drink unless you freeze it…”

She taps her cheek with the chalk while pondering her options, leaving behind a white trail. Then she finally writes something down and holds the board up. It says “CHEESE” in big letters. She tilts the board a little to look at it while explaining her reasoning.

“Honestly, I've only seen her eat once and from the things I saw her eat this would be the funniest in combination with wine. Also it has the same color as me. Anyway.” She then wipes the word away with her sleeve.

2: Who has the better sense of fashion?

Narrowing her eyes she stares into a distance for a moment. “Well, I, for one, think I'm very stylish! Buuuut I guess she put a lot of effort into maintaining that appearance she has. She got the polished armor, the cape and everything, it's very ferocious looking while also fancy…” She writes “LRK” on the board and holds it up for a moment, nonchalantly while murmuring to herself. “My belt of severed hands is stylish as fuck… also my cool as hell sea shell pauldron is a looker.”

3: Who would win in a battle?

“HAL…” For a moment she looks away, eyes wide open contemplating the consequences of her actions. “She seems like a formidable opponent, to say the least, but is she Anat levels of strong? I'd like to think I could wipe the floor with just about anyone. Have you seen what I did to the former DEVA of death?” She writes “ME” on the board and holds it up for a moment before erasing it again.

4: You get a new pet that you love, but your partner doesn’t. What kind of animal is it?

“I used to have a pet spinosaurus… I feel like she might not vibe with that? Most people seemed taken aback. Maybe she would get used to the spino but could she love it…” Letting out a huff she shakes her head in dismay, doodling a spinosaurus on the board which seems to be quite proportional.

5: Where would you take your partner for a vacation?

With her arms crossed she leans forward onto the table before her. “She does live in a snowy wasteland, so something warm would be a nice contrast. Perhaps Raisin Ruins to show her some history where there actually are remnants of my past left.” She rubs her chin with one hand pondering, then begins writing down Raisin Ruins on the board.

“I'd prefer my actual previous home in Dreamland, but couldn't find a single remnant of my past. There is a palace on Mount Lel like there used to be, but it's some place called Castle Dedede and not my father's palace??” She flicks a hand in disbelief, a bit of a grimace forming in her face.

“Anyway, Raisin Ruins is also better because there are less people. She seems to prefer not having too many eyes on her and I'd want to respect that. Hope she can handle the desert though.”

6: Which video game do you always beat your partner at?

“Heh…” A brief chuckle escapes her. Then she writes the word SMASH on the board. “While I have watched the Meta-Knights play their games, I've never played any myself. Though I'd imagine I'd be pretty good in that ‘Smash’ game. For some reason my brother is a playable character and his underlings always play as him?? Naturally his sword, an aspect of me, is in the game as well and I'd like to think that means I’d be fantastic at playing the game!” Confidentally she nods with her arms crossed and a big smile on her face.

7: Which Copy Ability would best describe your relationship?

“Our relationship? I quite literally am the sword ability, yet that would only represent me… I'd almost say fire for passion but that ability belongs to my ex. For me and Lady Radiant I'd like to propose a mixture… like Bluster Sword. She seems to have control over the wind at least to a degree…” She doodles a fancy sword and draws some tornado swirls around it to represent the wind. It looks quite goofy.

8: You have to make breakfast for your partner. What are you cooking?

“Ehehe… That one is… I'm not known to be great at cooking. I'd have to go for something easy…” Looking into the distance she frowns. This one is quite difficult for her to figure out. “Eggs.. wait, would that be weird because she is like half bird? But she doesn't like the bird side… let's have her have some boiled eggs, then. I think I can manage that. Also some buns and stuff. Easy but tasty.” With her tongue held out to the side she draws a bird and crosses it out, then doodles some eggs and ovals that are probably supposed to be buns.

9: What’s the best gift your partner ever gave you?

“Uuuh… We only had one date so far but she brought her own wine so that was pretty damn cool! Let's see how far we can take it from here in the future.” This time she drew a bottle, nodding at her artistic masterpiece. Then she leans forward, whispering. “You think she'd enjoy the torn out and still beating heart of a dragon as a gift? That's my favorite go to.” In the background her brother shakes his head disapprovingly.

10: What’s something you started doing because of your partner?

She taps the board with the chalk for a moment, then sketches a poorly drawn feathery wing. “Well she got me to appreciate feathery wings. Never gave them much thought before since they seem like a ton of work and just soft fluffy stuff, but she has proven that they can actually be quite deadly! Still, I'd rather stick to my dragon wings.” She stretches out her wings, flapping them a little before folding them back once again.

Muchadoo is hosting a romance-themed game show called Dream Date, and new contestants are invited! Kirby ship couples (including AU and OC characters) are invited to see how well they know their partners!

While the game is heavily romance themed, the questions are meant to work for platonic couples as well!

The rules are simple: it’s just the Newlywed game. Both players are presented with the same question regarding their partner, and each one must write the answer they think is correct. After both partners have written their answers, they reveal them, and we see just how right they are!

Here are some questions the couples might be asked:

If your partner could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be?

Who has the better sense of fashion?

Who would win in a battle?

You get a new pet that you love, but your partner doesn’t. What kind of animal is it?

Where would you take your partner for a vacation?

Which video game do you always beat your partner at?

Which Copy Ability would best describe your relationship?

You have to make breakfast for your partner. What are you cooking?

What’s the best gift your partner ever gave you?

What’s something you started doing because of your partner?

There are no planned win conditions for this event, nor are there prizes; the point of this event is to simply provide a fun set of prompts for character couples/partnerships to answer in drawing or writing form! Just reblog this post adding your characters answering the questions, have fun, and have a happy Valentine’s Day!

[amaraudermind]

Something something Bruce love Gotham because it's his home, jason loves Gotham because it's in his soul, Duke loves Gotham because it's his family, Steph loves Gotham on purpose

[tchotchkez]

😮‍💨

[sorry for the hardcore tag rants, y'all]

[the--days]

so it's like this.

you're young and you're scared and you're trapped in the feywild (happens to the best of us) with the love of your life. You're a half-elf and she's a fullblooded elf but you don't think about it very much because you're barely surviving day to day. And you get offered a deal to get yourself home again, and you take it. And the price of your freedom is that you leave her still trapped there, alone.

And then five years pass. And you age a century in that time, and you grow, and you change, and you find her again, and you're still in love, and you meet people, and you lose people, and you love them too, and you learn, and you start wanting a future again, and caring again, taking care of yourself, taking care of other people--

and after all of that, at the end of things, you find out the man responsible for all of the misery in your short, sad life has cast a spell which gives him complete control and ownership of you- mind, body, and soul (again. this happens to the best of us). And you are given the choice to stay under his thrall, and live a thousand years-- or to age and die, like humans do, and to be free of him.

And the love of your life is there, and you're married now, and she's still a full blooded elf, and you're still a half-elf, and you think about what that means a lot more than you used to.

And still, after everything you've learned-- you choose your freedom. You choose leaving her behind.

[phagodyke]

was gonna say smth else but this turned into a vent sorry everyone just ignore. typical weekend post on this blog u know how it is here we go👍