#I don’t have much to do here so we can chat. Even if it is with Eden’s favorite poster boy

[favefandomimagines]

loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

||

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

||

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Mistakes in a Hardware Store

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a tad bit over protective in this, threats of violence, semi angsty bits, language.

A/N: Harry had done something wrong and shockingly enough it has nothing to do with what he does for a living, so enjoy him trying to get you to forgive him✨

“Looking at it every five seconds isn’t going to make it magically start ringing you know that right?” Harry just ignores Mitch’s comment as he looks at his phone for the sixth time in the last five minutes, letting out a sigh when he all he’s met with is the date and time on his Lock Screen, no message from you or your name flashing across it like it normally does when you call him. “Trouble in paradise?” Mitch asks as he looks over and watches Harry run a hand through his hair as he tosses his phone onto his desk.

“She’s not talking to me.” Is all he says before he stands up and begins pacing the length of his desk while Mitch spins his chair around so his back is facing his own desk allowing him to watch his bestfriend have what he could only describe as a breakdown of some sort due to not having heard from you all day. Harry pauses and runs a hand over his face then just looks at Mitch over his shoulder. “I think she’s mad-”

“What did you do?” Harry lets out a groan as he walks over to his desk and places his hands flat on top of it and Mitch raises a brow at him when he notices him look down and close his eyes while letting out a deep sigh. “Harry tell me you didn’t-”

“You’ve got to stop assuming I’m walking around killing people without telling you.” Harry jokes as he lifts his head to send Mitch a glare. “I didn’t even really put my hands on anyone this time.” He explains making his friend just roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“She went with me to get some stuff so I can fix the shed door in the backyard and while we were at the hardware store some dude came up to her and started chatting her up so I might’ve threatened him a little.”

“You’re such a hot head man you need to relax and realize your wife is a catch so dudes are going to want to try to flirt with her.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards him with a quirked brow, Mitch is extremely familiar to this side of his bestfriend. “I’m just supposed to let people flirt with her and think they have some sort of shot with her?”

“They’ll know they don’t have a shot with her because she’ll let them know. She doesn’t need you to do it.” Mitch casually explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Harry just lets out a scoff and throws his hands up in air, clearly annoyed at the idea of having his wife be the one to tell creeps to leave her alone.

“She shouldn’t have to worry about telling wanks who want to chat her up to fuck off.” He snaps while he walks back over to his desk to reach for his phone. “I’m her husband it’s my job to do that for her.” Mitch rolls his eyes at his explanation as he watches Harry tap away on his phone.

“No it’s your job to trust her and let her handle herself in situations like that.” Harry can’t help but feel his heart sink as Mitch’s words hit him, he knows he can be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you and that often leads to him overreacting in certain situations but he’s never thought about how him reacting the way that he does could make you feel as if he doesn’t trust you or think you can’t handle yourself.

“I do trust her.” Mitch just nods as he uncrosses his arms so he can stand up from his chair. “I just-you know how I am with her.” He says with a sigh as Mitch takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know how you are with her and I know it’s because you love her but sometimes it’s a little much. But the real question is how are you gonna fix this?” Mitch asks as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “I hear flowers work wonders.” He suggests making Harry send him a glare making Mitch chuckle because sometimes it’s glaringly obvious how single Mitch is compared to Harry.

“Already had a bouquet delivered to her office this morning since she only works a half day today.” He mumbles and Mitch just gives him a nod of approval as he watches Harry tap a few things on his phone before he locks it and slides into his back pocket. “I have to go. You good to handle the rest of the day without me?” Harry questions making Mitch just brush him off as he turns to head back towards his desk.

“Yeah I’m fine we have that Gavin guy tomorrow and today is just paperwork.” Harry just nods at Mitch’s answer before he gathers his keys and tosses his work bag over his shoulder. “Good luck.” Mitch says with a smile as Harry gives him one more glance before turning and heading out their shared office door and down the hallway for the door that opens to the stairs leading up to the lobby of the building the two of them work at.

Harry hates the feeling he gets when he walks inside the front door, he’s not met with the usual warmth that always radiates off of you and seeps into his body and relaxes him as it makes its way from his tired feet all the way up to his sore shoulders. Today he’s met with silence and the utter coldness that comes with it and it’s almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, but the only thing that keeps him from turning around and leaving is that he knows you’re home because he parked next to your car in the driveway and he is willing to do anything get your warmth back into the house.

He knows where you’re at, it’s just something that he can’t help with what he does for a living he knows how to keep track of people when they’re in relatively close proximity to him. So as soon as he walked in the front door he could see your foot hanging off the love seat tucked away in the corner of the living room near the bookshelf next to the floor lamp that you opted to turn on instead of the main light. He acts as if he didn’t see you as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door and slips his shoes off before he makes his way into the kitchen where he places his work bag on the table, he can feel your eyes on him from the living room and he takes that as a decent sign that you’re even wanting to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates his next move, he knows you don’t like confrontation so you won’t be the one to tell him you’re mad at him so if he wants this to get resolved in a timely manner he’s going to need to be the one to initiate the conversation but he’s just not in a hurry to hear you say you’re upset with him. So Harry does what he thinks is the best thing to do in the moment because he knows you, he knows what you really need from him in this moment and he’s more than willing to give it to you if it spares him, at least for a few minutes from having to hear you tell him how unhappy he made you the other day. He turns around and quietly heads into the living room, he watches as you close the book he knows you stopped reading the moment he walked through the front door and place it on the side table near the lamp. As soon as he’s in front of you he reaches down and grabs your hands as he drops to his knees, he looks at you as he brings your hands to his lips and places sweet kisses to your knuckles and he doesn’t miss the slight shade of pink your cheeks get at his actions.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes sure his words come out nice and clear so you don’t miss them between little pecks to your knuckles. “I know I made you upset yesterday and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened him or-”

“We’ve had this conversation before haven’t we Harry?” You ask making Harry just swallow before nodding his head and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you turn and look away from him. “I know you want to protect me from all the creeps and jerks but Harry yesterday you-”

“Don’t say it.” He cuts you off as he lets your hands slip out of his as he stands up. “Please don’t say it.” His voice is low as he takes a small step away from you as he feels as if his world might be crumbling down around him as the thought of you telling him you were afraid of him bounces around in his head.

“Harry look at me.” He can’t help himself as he does what you ask because even though his whole world may feel like it’s on the verge of falling apart he’s still your husband, the man who hasn’t ever really been able to not do whatever it is you ask of him. “I’m not afraid of you.” He feels your hands on his arms slowly running up until they are cupping the sides of his face making sure he can’t look away from you. Your words take a moment to sink in through the layers of sheer panic and anxiety running through his mind but when they finally do Harry lets out a deep breath and feels as if his legs could give out at any moment with the amount of relief that washes over him.

“I was going to say that in that moment you were being one of the jerks you try to protect me from all the time.” All Harry can do is just nod because you’re right, he was being exactly the type of person he tries to keep you away from and honestly Harry is still recovering from the fact you admitted you aren’t afraid of him so a nod is the best he can do in the moment. “You threatened someone’s life all because he was asking me if I had any recommendations for a good weather resistant wood varnish.” When Harry rolls his eyes he instantly knows it’s a mistake because he feels your hands drop from his face making his lips turn downward into a slight frown while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that was clearly a line and he was trying to flirt-”

“So him flirting with me means you need to come in and grab him by his shirt and tell him that if he so much as looks at me again the next project you’ll be working on will be his coffin?” Harry can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve raised your voice since he’s met you, each time has almost always been towards him and he hates that he’s the one who gets you to the point where you lose your ability to speak in your usual soft and gentle tone and are left with no choice but to make your voice louder and a little meaner in hopes it’ll help get your point across more clearly.

“I didn’t mean to grab him. That was a mistake.” He doesn’t make an attempt to get closer to you even though every part of him wants to reach out and pull you into him, he wants to give you the space you need to tell him exactly how his actions made you feel and he knows you won’t be able to do that if he crowds you. And as much as he normally loves to play dirty and use his knowledge against you, this time he wants you to get everything out because he wants to be better for you so if he has to stand here and take it for a few more minutes then so be it.

“Was that the only mistake you made yesterday?” He wants to say he really didn’t make any mistakes yesterday but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together as you place a hand on your hip letting him in on the fact you’re getting annoyed at this conversation.

“Please just answer me because I don’t want to argue with you anymore but I need to know if you really think that’s the only mistake you made yesterday.” Harry can tell by the slight pleading tone of your voice that you’re beginning to break, your walls of anger are starting to crumble and he can’t help himself but feel a small sense of relief because he can work with this, he can find a way to make your walls come down and get you to forgive him.

“No.” He answers as he takes a small cautious step towards you making you raise an eyebrow at him as a signal to have him elaborate on his answer. “I shouldn’t have threatened him or raised my voice in the store because I know how you feel about causing scenes in public.” He adds as he takes another small step towards you and he can’t help the small smirk that forms on his face when he sees your hand drop from your hip as you playfully roll your eyes at the mention of causing a scene.

“Anything else?” Your voice is much softer now and Harry feels like this is a good time to take a chance so he reaches an arm out so he can place a hand on your hip and he smiles when you don’t make any moves to wiggle out of his grasp or bring your own hand down to push his away.

“Letting you give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’s probably the biggest mistake I made because you know how much I love hearing you talk.” Now normally you’d take that as a tease of some sort but Harry’s not an idiot, or at least not in this moment so he’s sure to sound as serious as possible without ruining the lighthearted mood that’s beginning to form between the two of you.

“You love hearing me talk?” Harry just gives you a smile as he ever so gently pulls you closer to him by his hold on your hip.

“Your voice is one of my favorite sounds.” He admits without a single drop of hesitation because it’s the truth. “Especially right before you fall asleep and it’s this mixture of a whisper and just mumbles of nonsense.” His eyes stare into yours as he raises his free hand so he can brush a few strands of hair out of your face and back behind your ear. “But my favorite is when it’s got this hint of excitement to it like when you’re telling me about a new book you found that you’re now obsessed with or better yet the rants you go on about books you hate those are very fun and your voice gets this almost twinge of absolute disgust to it that I always find entertaining because it’s so rare you find something you don’t like.” He keeps his hand on the side of your face cupping your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek.

“So really baby it about killed me not getting to hear your voice for a whole day all because I was an asshole and couldn’t handle some guy flirting with you in a Home Depot.” He wants to pull your face towards his and seal his words with a kiss but he doesn’t, he’s a gentleman after all and knows it’s only right to let you decide when he’s earned his kissing privileges back sees as you just broke the day long silent treatment you were giving him not even five minutes ago.

“His name was Brad.” Harry’s grip on your hip tightens a little while he other hand falls from your face as you give him an unwanted detail of your encounter yesterday. “Maybe if you knew that before you went all crazy on him you would’ve reconsidered? Because who’s going to pick some dude named Brad over their hot husband named Harry?” He just chuckles as you give him a playful smirk while reaching your hands up to grab both sides of his face.

“Well when you put it like that.” He jokes as he feels you begin to pull his face down towards yours. “I really am sorry sweetheart I swear it won’t happen again.” He whispers as he bumps the tip of his nose into yours making you smile.

“I know you are and that’s why I forgive you.” That’s all Harry needs to hear before he allows himself to close the gap between his lips and yours, he feels you smile against his lips as you pull him even closer to you when you feel him try to pull away.

“I love you.” He mumbles between kisses making you giggle as your hands go from his face down to his chest so you can grip onto his shirt while his hand holds onto the back of your neck.

In this moment Harry knows that the two of you are going to be okay, that while you may hate how he over reacts and gets a little too protective at times, you still love him and haven’t decided to give up on him or at least not yet. So Harry decides right then and there that he’s going to actually try to be better, but while he really will try he can’t promise he won’t mess up every now and then because he’s still Harry, and when it comes to you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with people getting too close or being too friendly.

[b3ach-bunn7]

JAPANESE DENIM PT 2

The three days you spend in the castle before you wedding with Prince Satoru

Royal!AU, fluff, JJK

——————————————————————————

Your new temporary bedroom is so unlived in it makes you uncomfortable. You sleep on sheets that are too stiff and a blanket too big and woollen that heats you up impossibly every night. You’re to stay here for the three nights until your wedding, where you’ll then be sharing a room with your husband. You are not to see each other until then, some silly tradition you find yourself somewhat reluctant to follow. 

Your new lady in waiting, Nobara, tells you about the castle, the people, who runs the gossip mill. You feel overwhelmed as she takes you on a tour of the castle. You admire the large gardens, the extravagant rooms and corridors that look like experts from the fantasy books you spend your nights reading. The maids in the kitchen and the soldiers around the halls all bow to you, and you smile, skin prickling at all the attention.

Nobara, you realise quickly, is loud and talkative. You don’t think it’s necessarily normal for a lady in waiting to be so full of energy, but she’s young, and the casual way she talks to you is a welcome thing. She feels more like a friend as she chats to you about her two knight friends, the two boys you’d seen at the ball. She’s far enough in age to you that you feel a little sisterly to her.

You thank the setting of the sun, tired of greeting and meeting so many new people. You’re about to get in bed. You’re wearing a too short and too sheer nightgown, lacy pink material that fluffs up around your legs. It twirls as you move, and you like the feeling of the material on your skin. It cuts right at your mid thigh, and it feels like a lot to wear to bed. But Nobara had left it on your bed, and you felt too bad to say anything about it, considering her excitement at your new wardrobe. You pull back the covers of your bed, thick and warm, and are just about to step in.

And then somebody knocks on your door.

Once, and then twice, and then they just keep knocking until you get up, flinging the door open. You assume it’s Nobara, because who else would be so brave to knock on your door like that, and so late at night. 

Satoru. That’s who. 

“What- Satoru, what are you doing, we are not supposed to see each other until the wedding!” You splutter, pulling him into your room before anyone else sees him.

He doesn’t speak though. You look at him confused and wave a hand in his face.

“Hello?” 

But it’s like he’s somewhere else. And it’s then, when a particularly strong breeze comes in from your open window, that you remember what you’re wearing, and you finally notice the red that dusts Satoru’s cheeks and your eyes widen.

“Oh my- Look away!” You hiss, rushing to your bed to grab a sheet to cover yourself.

Satoru turns quickly. “I’m sorry, I assumed you would be decent when I knocked!”

“Knocked? You practically broke my door down. What is it you want?” You huff, now covered.

“Well, I wanted-“

“You can turn around now.”

He does. He pouts a little at your new outfit.

“Shame. I liked your little nightgown.” 

“You have about five seconds before I call someone to escort you out of here.”

“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I just want to talk.” Satoru says.

You frown slightly. “Talk about what?”

He drops his hands and gestures at your bed. “Can you sit? And calm down? I can feel how tense you are from here.”

You let your shoulders fall. You suppose nobody will walk into your room. And he’s the prince, after all. Not much can be done to punish him. 

So you relent, and listen. He sits himself on your bed as well, shamelessly crossing his long legs, completely ignoring how inappropriate even being in the same room as you, let alone bed, is. You don’t protest as much as you should, only bring your covers up to hide the expanse of your legs your short nightdress reveals. His eyes dart down at the movement and he smiles.

“Why are you here, Satoru?” You ask.

“You see, the benefit to you not knowing who I was yesterday is that you spilled your pretty little heart out to me.”

Your nose wrinkles. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

“But it is. You are scared because you know nothing about me, and you are scared I’m a hideous troll. That is what you said to me yesterday. And now, we can at least check one of those off the list.”

He leans forward just that bit closer, forearms resting on his knees. White eyelashes flutter as blinks innocently. “Am I hideous, Y/N?”

God, you wish he was. That might make keeping a safe distance from him easier. But when he looks at you like this, like he wants you in a way no man ever has, you have to look away.

“No. I suppose not.”

He smirks. “I’ll take it.” 

Satoru sits back a bit and you remember how to breathe.

“So. What else would you like to know about me?”

“You snuck into my room so that we can do trivia on Satoru Gojo?” 

“The best kind. Come on, ask me something and I’ll ask you the same back.”

You sigh, relenting, ignoring how cute he looks when he cheers quietly.

“Okay. If you could have any superpower what would you pick?��

Satoru barks a laugh. “Y/N, I meant questions to get to know me. Like, my favourite colour or something.”

“This is getting to know you! Respond, if you don’t mind.”

“That- Okay. Fine. I’d have… Telekinesis.” 

You wrinkle your nose and he furrows his brows at your reaction. “What?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“Well, it is clearly something. Is my answer not good enough for you?”

You giggle. “No, it is perfectly fine! Just surprised me. I thought you’d say something like. Super strength.”

He tilts his head. “And why’s that?” 

“Most men do. Something about power and their over inflated egos.”

His mouth gaped. “My ego is perfectly inflated, thank you very much.” You just grin, shrugging.

And the two of you sit like that, for entirely too long. The questions are all innocent to begin with. Your favourite colour, your favourite food. What you hate most about the balls you always attend. And then, little by little, you get closer. Not just physically, because his hand is now toying with the edge of your duvet, but you feel like you know him more. It’s not by a lot, but. It’s better than before.

“What are you most scared of? About our marriage?” Satoru’s voice is soft as he speaks. The light of your candle flickers across his face, and you wonder how long you can keep him here like this, the flame lighting his eyes up perfectly.

“Losing my freedom.” 

You don’t feel scared to say the words like you’re sure you’d feel around any other man. It’s no secret that as a woman, your life stops being about you once you’re wed, and more about how you can serve your husband, your future kids. 

“What do you mean?”

You smile bitterly. You didn’t expect him to know, but it still stings a little that he doesn’t.

“I knew I’d never get to rule my kingdom. It will most likely be any sons I have, never me. But. I could still do what I could, help my father however he’d let me. Now, though. I am too far from home to be of any help. And I do not have a role in this land, and I respect that.”

You look down at your sheets. Your fingers trail along the embroidered designs idly.

“It is just difficult to come to terms with the fact that it is now officially over. That all I am is a wife, a mother.” 

Satoru sighs heavily. His fingers reach forward and intertwine with yours. 

“You are not just a wife to me, and you never will be. If you wish to have some authority, some duty, I will make that happen. If not now, then when I am king.”

You look up at him. And his face is deathly serious, in a way you’ve not really seen on him before. He looks at you earnestly and you feel your throat tighten.

“You would do that for me?” You don’t need to say how unspoken such an attitude is.

“I would do anything for you, Y/N.”

After that, the topics get much lighter. Satoru’s fingers stay clasping yours and you let them. The night grows later and the candle on your bedside table burns smaller and smaller. It’s when it gets this late, that you’re yawning and blinking at him lazily, Satoru’s tongue gets looser, and his questions curb something dangerous.

“So. Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Satoru!”

“What?”

You shake your head. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“And why not? You’re to be my wife soon, no? Can’t we talk about such topics?” 

You can feel the heat on your face and you know he can see it. You roll your eyes. “Okay. Fine.” 

You adjust your position, lifting up the sleeve of your nightdress where it was slipping. “I have. Once.”

And the expression on his face twists .immediately into what you think is jealousy. 

“You’ve what?”

You laugh slightly. “I’ve kissed one boy.”

He frowns. “Who?”

“Aw. Are you jealous?” You grin.

“Well, yes. Of course I am! Your first kiss is supposed to be with me.” 

“It is not that big of a deal, Satoru. He was nobody important, and I do not even remember his name. And I was young, too. Thirteen, I believe.”

He grumbles, and you laugh at the pout on his face. “Cheer up, Prince. It is not like you have never kissed anyone before.”

The tips of his ears redden and it suddenly makes sense why he’s so bothered. You coo and he scoffs, waving you off. 

“Enough.”

“Aw, it’s okay, Satoru. Does this mean I’ll be your first kiss?”

“Yes. And some random boy will be yours.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

“Don’t pout. You’ll be my first in- In other things.” You say.

And how quickly his pout disappears and is replaced with a smirk, one that threatens something with the way he looks at you. He moves closer to you.

“You can say the word you know.” 

“I know.”

He smiles. “Say it then.”

You scoff. “No. I- No.”

His smirk darkens and he leans closer. “You scared?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.” 

“Are you excited?” 

“I- Satoru. I don’t-“

“I am.” 

The admission comes easily as if it means nothing. His words fluster you and you laugh nervously. He just watches you, hands slowly sliding out your lap to rest on your thigh. It’s over the duvet, but still, the promise behind them has you swallowing roughly.

“You looked beautiful last night. In that dress. You look beautiful right now.” 

His hand reaches up, moving the sleeve that has slipped down your shoulder again back up. His fingers smooth over the soft silk and you let it. He’s touched you before, grabbed your hands and toyed with them, but this feels so different. There’s a tension in the room you cannot quite place. You can’t judge the way Satoru’s eyes dip down to your lips because you know you’re doing the same thing.

“I know I have to be patient. And I will be.” His voice has dropped an octave lower, something husky and dangerous.

“But you are making it very difficult for me. Dressed like that. Looking how you do.” 

“It’s just a nightgown, Satoru.” Your words come out more desperate than you intend.

“Hm. What I saw when I walked in leaves little to the imagination.” 

You laugh slightly, nervous and excited. “I’m excited, too. Just scared as well.”

His eyes frown before his lips do. “Don’t be. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

Something coils in your stomach and you shift your legs. “I- I think it is time you leave. I am tired, and it is late.” 

He nods, understanding. His hand drops from your shoulder and he smiles.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

You snort a laugh. “You really should not. It is against the rules.”

“You will learn I am not one for following them.”

The next day Satoru does not come creeping into your room because you see him during the day. You and Nobara are walking in the courtyard, the sun setting over your skin, when you hear yells and then a loud thud. You turn a corner, past the large detailed stone walls and see Satoru, clutching his sides and laughing at two boys on the floor. They’re all stood on what you think is a makeshift battleground, and your memory tells you that this is the practise grounds Nobara had mentioned yesterday. While the two boys look familiar, you pay them no mind as you can’t stop staring at Satoru. He’s got a sword in his hand and he’s wearing a white button up with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his skin. 

“Aw, look at the future bride ogling her husband.” Nobara coos.

You tut. “Enough of that. I was simply looking. At all three of them.”

“Whatever you say, princess. It’s about time you met them. Let us go.” 

She bounds forward and the boys perk up at the sight of her. They wrap her in a hug and she groans, trying to shove them off. She finally breaks free, dusting off her dress.

“You two reek, get off me.” She sniffs, turning her head.

Satoru notices you standing to the side, and he immediately runs up to greet you. He beams as you focus your attention to him.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Afternoon, prince.”

He grins. He rubs his brow with the back of his hand. “So. What brings you here?”

You nod your head towards Nobara. “She was taking me on a walk and we ended up here.” You watch the three of them talking, a small smile gracing your lips. “They’re sweet.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “What they are is lazy. Haven’t been training hard enough.” 

Satoru speaks loud enough that the two boys hear and start scowling, immediately stopping their animated conversation with Nobara to argue.

“No fair! You’re so hard on us, Sensei.” The pink haired boy pouts.

Your eyebrows raise at the name. “Sensei? You teach these boys?” You ask.

Satoru nods, and you can see the pride on his face he’s trying to hide. “I’m the best in this kingdom! Only makes sense I teach our future, no?”

The sound of your voice seems to alert the two boys of your presence. They quickly straighten out, bowing. It’s been two days of this and you still have no idea how to react.

“Your majesty! It’s lovely to meet you.” One of them, the one you’ve learnt is called Yuji, grins.

“Please, call me Y/N. And it’s lovely to meet you both!” You reply.

“Well, Y/N, are you going to marry-“

“Do not actually call her by her name, you fool. It’s disrespectful.” The other one, Megumi, scoffs, shoving Yujis shoulder.

“She just told me to!”

“No, Megumi is right, it is disrespectful. She’s  just weird like that.” Nobara chimes in.

Yuji gasps. “You can’t call a princess weird!”

“It is quite alright. I've done it before.”

Yuji shakes his head in shame. “I hope she hangs you for your attitude.”

Megumi snorts a laugh. “About time somebody did.”

Satoru rolls his eyes as they start bickering. He pulls you to the side, hand curling easily around your elbow. He gives you and the dress Nobara had picked and excitedly told you was worth more than she got paid in a month a once over.

“You look gorgeous this morning.” He says, hand still lingering on your arm.

You smile. “Thank you. As do you.”

“Really?”

You nod. “The dishevelled look is doing you wonders.”

He barks a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m in dire need of a shower. Training them takes it out of me.”

You look back at the boys. “Can I see?”

Satoru pauses for a moment, hand still trying to fix his mussed hair. His sword is still in his other hand, and you watch with keen interest as his fingers tighten around the hilt. 

“You want to see me fight?” He questions.

You fluster a bit at the way he’s looking at you, the knowing tease in his eyes. “Yes. I want to see if my future husband is adept.”

“I’m much more than adept.”

“Then there should be no issue.”

He sighs, his grin back with more fevour. “I love your attitude, do you know that?”

“That is why you are marrying me, no?” 

He laughs. “Okay, enough. Now watch.”

Satoru walks towards the boys. You laugh at the disgruntled expression on their face when he ushers them to the centre of the field. Yuji passes Megumi his fallen sword and you gesture Nobara to come stand with you. She walks over, looking slightly lost.

“They told me they were done training for today.”

“Yes, I think this is my fault. I want to see him in action.”

Nobara looks at your knowingly. “Sure.”

“Hush now. Look.”

Satoru gives them a second before he goes at them. It’s like art, watching Satoru move. The two boys are good, you can tell with how easily they swing their swords, the practised way they dodge attacks. But Satoru, he is a marvel. You watch as the lines of muscles in his arm ripple as he brings his sword down, the amount of strength behind each hit rattling the metal. You know he’s just showing off for you, but you don’t care. He fights off the two of them easily, barely breaking a sweat as he slides and dodges their hits. He even has the nerve to send you a cheeky wink and you smile despite yourself.

The match ends quickly, the two knights swords on the floor once Satoru easily unarms them. You clap excitedly and he bows. The two boys grumble to themselves, dusting dirt off their tunics once more.

“You’re supposed to go easy on us.” Yujii huffs, retrieving their swords from the floor.

“How will you learn if I go easy on you?” Satoru puts his hands on his hips and catches his breath.

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You’re just trying to impress the princess.”

Satoru softens slightly at Megumi, and he practically coos at him. “Aww, don’t be sad, Megumi! You did a great job.” 

Megumi just rolls his eyes again. The two boys bid you goodbye, and you tell Nobara to go with them.

“Alright. I will come meet you in your room once you are finished speaking to the prince.” She curtsies quickly before rushing off to catch up with the others.

You turn to Satoru to find him already looking at you. The sword is back in the scabbard on his waist, and he crosses his arms. His biceps look even bigger under his shirt as he does so and you avert your gaze before he notices your staring.

“So. How was I?”

“You were amazing! I know your ego is quite big already, but. I suppose it’s justified. You were quite incredible, fighting like that.”

Satoru grins something proud and satisfied, ignoring your little dig at his ego. He steps forward slightly and he smells like sweat and the outdoors. 

“I am glad I could impress you so, princess.” He says.

“How long have you been fighting for?”

Satoru thinks for a moment. “Since I was very young. My father taught me, and I trained as hard as I could until I was the best around.” 

“That is quite admirable. It’s obvious with how easily you can move around.”

Satoru nods. “I like teaching the young ones. I-“ Satoru pauses slightly. His face turns to something a little more vulnerable, and he doesn’t make much eye contact with you when he continues.

“My father is a good man, but. His teachings were not the greatest. I hated fighting and training and the idea of it all. It is better now, of course. I just do not want the younger generation to go through what I did.”

You know you shouldn’t, but your hand reaches forward and grabs his. He looks back at you and you give him a smile.

“You are a good man, Satoru. And it is doing wonders for those kids, believe me. I can see from only speaking to them once.”

Satoru softens slightly. He sighs, like a little weight has been relieved from his shoulders.

“I am not sure what I did to deserve you.”

“Something good, I imagine.”

If Satoru’s last day before the wedding has been anything like yours, hectic and so busy, you’re sure he had no time to do so.

The day is spent drifting from room to room. You pick out a bouquet of flowers from too many options. You stand as straight as possible and suck in as much as you can so that they can stuff you in a corset and dress that you’re scared to even move it. It’s layers of soft, white fabric, shining gems sewn into the neckline and all down the front. It shimmers as it catches onto the light form the big open windows. You smooth your hand over the soft material. Nobara stands to the side, and while she keeps silent in the presence of the tailor and other maids, you can see the excitement on her face. 

When you catch sight of yourself in the mirror on the other end of the room you pause. You look older. Maybe it's the white, or maybe it's the fact you’ll be a Gojo in hours, but something feels different. You aren’t sure how you feel. You try not to think about it too much because you can't decipher what's excitement and what's fear.

Your tailor, Nanako, smiles at you. “Nervous?”

You nod slightly as her assistant, Mimiko, adjusts your bodice. “Yes. A little.”

“You have nothing to worry about. Of all the princes I’ve made suits for, Prince Satoru is the nicest.” Nanako says. She kneels down to fix the trail of your dress.

“Really?” Mimiko nods.

“Mhm. He’s very nice. And he is very attractive, too.”

“Mimiko! That is her husband.”

“I am just being reassuring!”

The best part of your day is definitely the time you spend in the kitchens. The smell hits you the second you walk in, and the different foods are all spread out across the tables for you to try. There's duck and chicken and lamb, desserts like tarts and cheesecakes all waiting for you to try.  You smile for the first time all day. The head chef, a man with pink hair oddly similar to Yuji, looks at you from across the table. The room is large, stoves and ovens lining the walls. You glance to your left and see the room you assume is full of food. The kitchen is surprisingly empty other than the man, and he bows when you and Nobara fully walk in.

“Princess. We’ve arranged a series of hors d'oeuvres, mains and desserts for you to try. The cake has already been chosen by the prince, and we’ve left a sample for you there.” He gestures to the slice of cake and you beam.

“Thank you. My name is Y/N. And yours?”

He raises a brow at your introduction. “Sukuna.”

“It is nice to meet you.” Sukuna smirks slightly at your cheery attitude. He gestures to the chair in front of you and Nobara pulls it out for you and you sit.

“And you.” He says.

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Nobara stands besides you.

“So. Where shall we start?”

“You can begin with the hors d'oeuvres.”

As you try the food, he explains each dish, where all the ingredients are sourced. Sukuna lights up slightly when he begins talking, and you can tell he cares about what he does. Nobara told you on the way over that he was the best chef in the kingdom, and the taste of the food tells you as much. 

“This is amazing! And you made all these recipes yourself?”

He nods, standing a bit taller. “I have help, of course, but these were all made by me and my sous chefs. The rest of the workers will be available on the wedding night to make sure everything gets out on time.”

“I love it all. You are very talented, Sukuna.”

He bows his head. “Thank you, Princess.”

You gesture Nobara to come try some of your food. “Come, help me decide between these two.”

You spend the next few minutes getting through the food. You chat with Sukuna, and he tells you that Yujii is his brother, his younger one at that. Sukuna used to be a knight too, but after a bad fight his leg was injured too badly for him to fight again. But, his loyalty to the royal family was not forgotten, which is why after discovering he could actually cook very well, he’d become their Chef.

“Do you miss fighting?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Of course. It’s exhilarating stuff, but. It cannot be helped. I enjoy cooking and I’m good at it. Not much to complain about.”

You nod. 

“That makes sense. I- Ow!” You wince as something sharp scratches your gums.

“Is everything okay, Princess?” Nobara asks, turning to you quickly.

“Yeah, I just- There’s.” 

You turn your head quickly, and try to pull out whatever is in your mouth as dignified as you can. When your hand comes up, the three of you all look at the piece of crab shell in your hand.

“What the hell is that?” Sukuna furrows his brow.

“Hey! Watch your language.” Nobara chides.

Sukuna doesn’t listen. He reaches forward and grabs it out of your hand. He looks pissed. Before you can even say anything he’s storming off into that room in the back. You and Nobara both peer inside.

“Where is he going?” You ask.

Nobara shrugs. “I’m not sure. He looks angry, though.”

“I know. I am a little-“

“What the fuck is this!” Sukuna suddenly yells.

You both jump at his voice. You both lean over and peer through the door to see him yelling at two men you assume are his sous chefs. They hold their heads down and Nobara giggles next to you.

“They look like their teacher’s telling them off.” She whispers.

You wave your hand at her. “Shh, I want to hear.”

He holds up the small piece of shell in their faces. “Look! The Princess could have choked on this, and then what? We’d all be hanged because you dumbasses didn’t check the crab properly.

“I thought-”

Sukuna holds up a hand and it’s enough to silence the one who tries to speak.

“There’s no excuse for it.” Sukuna shakes his head. “You, you. Fuck off! Get out my face.”

The two men walk out and you and Nobara quickly straighten up as Sukuna comes back into the room. He bows deeply. You elbow Nobara as she stifles a laugh.

“I am deeply sorry, Princess. Please excuse my sous chefs, they will be properly dealt with later.”

You do not want to know what that means. You laugh slightly, gesturing for him to stand. “Please, do not worry, it was only an accident.”

“An accident they shouldn’t have happened.” He sighs.

You smile. “It’s okay, I am sure it will be remedied for tomorrow night.”

Sukuna just looks at you. He studies you for a moment.

“I’ve catered quite a few meetings between the Prince and his potential wives. I am quite glad he picked you. Most of the others were insufferable.”

You snort a laugh before covering your mouth, face flushing in embarrassment. “Apologies. That was not very ladylike of me.”

Sukuna smirks slightly. “Your secret is safe with me.”’

The day ends quicker than you think. You find yourself sitting in your room, trying to fool yourself into thinking you’re not up waiting for Satoru. That and the fact that you think the nerves are going to eat you alive.

You perk up slightly at the quick knock at your door. You get up, this time wearing a robe to cover yourself, and usher Satoru in.

“Aw. No nightgown today?”

You smack the side of his shoulder and he grins. “I missed you.”

“It has only been a day, Satoru.”

“A day too long.”

You both sit on your bed. You look out your window, at the bright moon in the sky and the expanse of the garden you can see from where you’re sitting. You feel Satoru’s hand clasp yours and you look at him. His brows are pinched with worry, and it’s weird seeing his lips turned down in a small frown.

“Are you alright?”

You breathe in deeply. “Do I not seem alright?”

“You look tired. A little troubled.” Satoru inches a little closer.

“Hm. It has been a long day.”

He sighs. “Tell me about it. You’ve been preparing for the wedding too?”

You nod. “I feel bad complaining. I have people waiting on me hand and foot, but. It is a lot.”

“You are allowed to be tired, you know.”

Satoru is looking at you so tenderly. It’s weird, you know it is, how much you feel for him in such little time. You’ve known him for four days only. Spoke to him on four separate occasions and yet you can’t help but be excited that you’ll be spending the rest of your life with him.

Of all the suitors your parents had entertained, he was by far the most attractive, but also the kindest. He seemed like a good person from what you’d seen and you knew that he’d make a good King when the time came. He had good money, good people. Your lady in waiting, the chefs, his family. You were lucky. Luckier than a lot of girls like you.

And you still felt like you deserved none of it.

There was a princess out there made for this sort of life. Not you. Sometimes you think you would’ve been better as a peasant.

Satoru’s fingers stroke over your hand. “Tell me what is wrong.”

His voice is so careful and caring that you feel tears threaten behind your eyelids. You sigh shakily.

“I just. It’s a lot. It’s so much. Sometimes I feel like it should not be me. That there is someone more deserving of this.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “Do not say that.”

“But it is how I feel. I- I am trying to ignore it, but I am so nervous.”

Satoru moves closer to you. He smells fresh, like he’s just showered, and you notice some curls in his hair are still damp. 

“You think I do not feel the same? That I’m not scared I won’t be a good husband?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Why would I not? It’s my job to protect you. Keep you safe. Make sure you’re happy, make sure everything is perfect for you. And I know how adverse you are to this all. Which makes me even more scared.” 

Your heart pangs with guilt at the look on his face. He looks so worried. You grasp his hand properly.

“No. No, I am not. Not anymore. Now that it’s you.”

His lips part like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Just looks at you.

“You- You changed my mind. I do not know how, and I do not know why so quickly but. That is not why I am scared.”

You turn away. Your words feel too vulnerable to say right to his face. 

“I want to be good for you, Satoru. I want to be a good wife. You deserve it. And I am frightened I cannot give it to you.”

Fingers curve under you chin. They turn your head so that your facing him, and the worry is replaced with something so lovely you want to look away again.

“It’s okay. We are supposed to be scared. I’d be more worried if you were not.”

You laugh wetly, and he swipes under your eyes at the tears that fall. 

“Don’t cry, princess.” He whispers.

“You are too kind. I can’t help it.”

“Would you like me to be mean?” 

You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe save that for after the wedding.”

The tips of his ears redden and his grip on your face tightens slightly.

“God, the flilth that comes out of that mouth.” He scolds, but you know it holds no mirth.

His hand drops from your face into your lap. You wonder how shocked your mother would be if she saw you two sitting this close before marriage.

“How do you even manage to sneak in here every night?”

Satoru grins. “My valet is very kind. Very susceptible to persuasion.”

You giggle. “I could say the same for Nobara. She hasn’t said a word.”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “You and I both know that girl is running to Yujii and Megumi every night. Would explain their giggling during training.”

You brain trails back to the two of them before, when Satoru was training them. Even then you remember the slight fondness he held for Megumi.

“Megumi. He is your favourite, correct?” 

Satoru winces, rubbing a hand on his head. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only slightly. I have a good eye.”

He sighs, nodding. He moves himself until he’s sitting beside you, and not in front. His shoulder is warm as it hits yours and you both lean against your headrest.

“Yes. I’ve known him since he was a child. His father was killed in a battle, and so I’ve took to checking up on him and his sister all their lives. Once he was old enough he joined the forces.”

As if he couldn’t get any better.

“That’s so kind. He seems like a good boy.”

Satoru hums in agreement. “He is. They both are, really.” 

Satoru stretches. His sleep pants stretch over muscled thighs and you look away quickly. 

“I met your tailors. And your chef.”

“Oh, Sukuna? He is very good at what he does.”

“Mhm. One of his sous chefs made a mistake and he tore into them. It was very funny.”

Satoru snorts. “He’s passionate. It is what makes his cooking so much better.”

You sigh. The darkness from outside tells you it’s late, and the way your eyes droop shut are tell enough that your tried. Satoru is telling you a story about something, and you’re too tired to pay enough attention. You let your eyes shut and you lean on his shoulder.

“You falling asleep on me?” Satoru mumbles.

“Mhm. No. Keep talking. M’listening.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Good night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

————————————————-—————————

I had a vision of Gordon Ramsey x Sukuna and that vision had to be realised

I acc have nooooo idea how to write a wedding part 😅 but thsi was so super fun to write! I love royal aus even tho I’m sure these ar won’t factually accurate

I hope u enjoyed!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Sorry, but can I just stress something about Louis that drives me insane? 

In his route where you've saved him, he kills Dorian. Louis directly kills another person. He shot her with a crossbow through the mouth.

It’s unavoidable. 

Sure, it’s considered an accident, and even so, it was also self-defense—Dorian sure wasn’t there for a friendly chat, after all. 

But here's the thing... of the Ericson crew, we know that Clementine, AJ, and Marlon have killed someone. And Minerva if you want to count her, too, since she once was part of the group . But the others? Maybe they have killed before and we just don’t know about it, whether it be out of mercy or self-defense.

Violet in her route had the chance to kill Minerva, but understandably, she didn’t. She opted to shoot her in the shoulder instead… but we never see her kill anyone herself. 

Maybe you could count indirect kills because of the bag of bricks/log that kills Yonatan, and maybe you could consider Mitch’s death as indirectly Tenn’s fault… Speaking of Mitch, he tried to kill Lilly, but we all saw how that turned out, didn't we? 

…but Louis? He killed Dorian. That was his first kill. His first. 

And he feels awful about it! He apologizes to the body as it lays warm at his feet! He’s shaking and can barely speak!! It feels like bile! He doesn't even have time to process it because uh oh, the boat's going to explode!

But he’s also been so hardened over the season by everything that’s happened to him that he comes out of it glad that he has it in him to kill because if that’s what it takes to protect Clementine, AJ, and his family and home, then he’ll do it even if he doesn’t want to.

How does that not drive anyone else utterly mad?

Fandom considers him the funny guy! He's cute and silly! He makes Clementine laugh!

He's also done murder! He's taken a life! Just like Clementine and AJ have! Just like Marlon did!

And honestly, I think this also leads to him forgiving AJ for killing Tenn because at this point, he understands. He hates it, and he wishes it didn’t have to be this way, but he gets that AJ saw something that he didn’t. Louis knows that AJ’s hurting just as much as he is, he even says as much if Clementine says anything other than “AJ saved your life” on the bridge. 

He relived Marlon’s death when Tenn died, but it’s not like his hands are clean, either… and neither were Marlon’s. Clementine’s hands definitely aren’t clean. 

It drives me crazy that best friends Louis and Marlon have each killed someone in TFS but Marlon killed Brody in a moment of panic because he’s a coward who wanted hide what he did while Louis killed Dorian in a moment of panic because he was trying to save Clementine from Minerva and she came up behind him like… hhhhnnnnggggggggg, y’know?

Oh, and don't even get me started on the clouis aspect of this because I'll lose it. He talks to her about it because he knows she'll understand, just like how she's always understood him. How he goes out of his way to tell her that having a home means protecting it and he's going to protect it [that home being her, AJ, and Ericson] no matter what because he wants to build this new life with her aaaaaaaaaaaaaand I've lost it—

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Jealous

@jegulus-microfic November 12, Word count 746

Previous part First part

James jumped out of his car before any of the others could even unbuckle their seatbelts and opened Regulus’s door for him. Regulus looked up at him a bit bewildered, but took his hand anyway and let James guide him out of the car. 

“How come you never do that for me?” Remus pouted as he walked around the car to where Sirius stood waiting.

“Because of what I let you do to me this morning,” Sirius quipped, raising his brow, daring Remus to keep going as he would definitely describe every moment in minute detail. He’d done it before and would feel no shame in recounting their exploits in front of his brother. Remus smartly kept his mouth shut, and they headed into the gallery silently. 

James was surprised how many people were milling around the exhibits and just how large the art show actually was. There were so many artists showcasing their work. 

“Where’s yours?” He asked Regulus as they followed the crowd to the first display. 

“Back right,” Regulus told him, pointing in the right direction. James started to walk that way, but Regulus tugged his hand to stop him. “No, we have to look at everybody’s. We can’t just go straight to mine,” Regulus muttered quickly. 

“Why not?” James questioned. “I want to see yours,” Regulus’s cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. 

“I need a few minutes to prepare myself for going over there,” Regulus admitted, clearly nervous about how James would react.

“Let’s go look at some art then,” James said, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand and following after Sirius and Remus. “Thank you for telling me what you needed, love. You can always do that, and I’ll respect it every time,” He didn’t need to look down to know how deep the red was that coloured Regulus’s cheeks now, he could quite happily picture it in his head.

They caught up with Sirius and Remus, the former having a heated discussion with Remus in front of the artist about his piece. 

“I just don’t get it,” Sirius was saying. “I mean, it’s just a tennis ball,” Remus sighed. 

“It’s modern art; the tennis ball represents the way that commercialism has changed the way sports are viewed,”

“It represents a game of fetch,” Sirius retorted, much to the artist's ire. Remus hurriedly moved Sirius along to a painting of a park. “See, Remus, there’s a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball,” He said loudly as they took in the work. 

“I changed my mind,” Regulus said quietly into James’s ear. “I can not follow him around here, let's just go see my stuff,” James beamed down at him. 

“Lead the way, love,” 

Regulus led them all the way to the back of the hall and stopped in front of ‘Burk with a Nana’. “Wait!” James exclaimed. “They let you display it with that name?!” Regulus shrugged. 

“Art,” He said simply, as a means of explanation. “As long as it isn’t too sweary, they don’t mind.” 

James moved with Regulus, looking at each piece. Regulus seemed to lean towards painting, but there were charcoal sketches, clay sculptures and a cat made from intricately twisted gold-coloured wire. James was in awe of Regulus and was about to say so when he spotted him chatting with a tall, dirty-blonde-haired man. He felt suddenly quite jealous, an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling at the easy way they were conversing and the smile on Regulus’s face. He strode over there, putting a possessive arm around Regulus and waited to be introduced. 

“James, this is Evan. Our parents know each other. Evan, this is James, my, er, my…”

“Boyfriend,” James provided helpfully. To be fair to Regulus, they hadn’t discussed labels, but, by the pleased look on Regulus’s face, he quite liked this one. Evan’s eyebrows shot up his face in surprise. 

“Oh, wow,” He said. “Erm, wow, Regulus, that’s so good,” His face softened. “I’m so happy for you. I’m here with my boyfriend, actually. I think you know him. Oh, look, here he is now. Darling, look who it is,” A slim-built man in an expensive-looking suit strode over to their little group, his dark brown hair slicked back expertly, showing off the sparking diamond earring, glinting off the light as he neared them. James felt Regulus still at his side. 

“Barty,” Regulus breathed out when the man stopped before them, looking shocked at who Evan was talking to. 

“Reggie?” 

Next part

[foodtruckery]

ive returned because your writing haunts me and i need to dig into your brain about combat baby idk how deeply youve thought about like. the whole extent of this au so if im asking about stuff that you dont want to focus on for it forgive me but im so curious how do things go down with bill?? like hes still an issue here do they just try the unicorn hair and stan scams his way through (and ford is so shocked and lowkey turned on impressed they bang after) or with everything else happening does ford (stupid genius he is) just sort of forget bill can still enter stan's dreams even if hes got the metal plate and stans like "hey why am i dreaming about a dorito obsessed with your portal"

and im guessing ford would not be down to make his home a tourist trap so do you think stan would just help with the research? or would his insecurities about being dead weight to ford push him to try and find his own way of income?

and and what about the town?? do they have to awkwardly pretend theyre father and son or uncle and nephew or something? because sure they could pretend theyre not related but they still look pretty similar. ford just looks like an older, nerdier stan so i think that would be people's first assumption (ford seething quietly as susan flirts with stan. stan just thinks fords feeling uncomfortable in town because hes a hermit until theyre alone and they have a repeat of their highschool days with ford hissing in his ear and demanding to know what he was expecting to happen with susan. stan trying to answer but hes a little distracted at the time)

and also with ford being back would they ever run into fiddleford again? either him in his cult days or maybe already halfway to losing his mind. depending on where he is mentally im sure the interaction could be either pretty hostile or sympathetic

ive grabbed you by the ankles and am attempting to shake you upside down to try and empty your pockets for scraps of this au because it consumes me

-🐶

waaaaaah thanks for being patient with me friend! you know i ALWAYS love to see you with the big fuckin questions and ideas. and i have been THINKING about this one cause, tbh, i finished combat baby in a couple of days and went “GET OUT OF MY SIGHT” and threw it at y’all and did not think much about it after that! until i came over here and started chatting with y’all at least hahaha.

the bill issue is like a whole thing right? and i was definitely wondering how the time travel on one side but not the other might impact him/slow him down. but i also do think it’d be kind of fucking hilarious if stan starts dreaming about bill but like. doesn’t say anything and doesn’t even think it’s a big deal because. you know. they’re just weird dreams. and at this point, stan’s done enough drugs and been through the ringer with stress and shit that it doesn’t even occur to him to question having bizarre dreams about some little geometric freak trying to be nice to him. whaaat? a MATH SHAPE for fucking NERDS in a gay little sweater vest BOW TIE is COMPLIMENTING him in his dreams???

as far as stan’s concerned, his subconscious got REALLY hung up on the whole “ford said some nice shit to me while we were fucking” and just hasn’t let that go yet. which i think would also drive bill up the fucking wall. like stan would have been the harder nut to crack regardless, but to keep getting accused of being stan’s mental manifestation of his brother fucking praise kink???? (which of course invites the whole question of bill going fuck it, and just leaning into that, but i don’t think he’d be as adept that mimicking ford for stan as he was at mimicking stan for ford, so)

ngl, i do love the unicorn hair play, tho. fun fact! i have no idea if i’ll actually write it or not, but i’ve toyed with the idea of doing a role reversal with ford coming back out of the portal still in this 30’s and finding stan and everything else having moved forward 30 years. and the unicorn hair felt like a good way to potentially address the Bill Issue i was getting stopped up on there! but like. i also could absolutely see older!ford convincing stan to wear a collar necklace of unicorn hair to keep bill out of his head.

but i loooooove the idea of them getting mixed up with fiddleford’s cult shit. i don’t even know wtf i’d DO with that but conceptually i love it. cause they’re starting to keep an eye on the townspeople, right? and even if stan’s come up with some kinda story to explain there being kinda sorta two of them now, he wouldn’t know not to be outspoken about the other weird shit happening in town. y’know, on top of being some of the weird shit happening in town. something something, stan getting snatched like lazy susan did over the gnome incident, but ayyye that shit hits really fucking wrong when you’ve actually been kidnapped in the past already and had to chew your way out of a fucking car to get free. i think that’s be neat!!

and especially if we consider fidds being maybe already just shade too far gone, enough that running into stan or having him dragged into the cult would confuse the fuck out of him. because that’s stanford, right? it has to be, he’s coming in and out of stanford’s house, he looks like stanford with a few questionable fashion and hygiene choices — but then again, stanford hadn’t been in great shape the last time he’d shown his face outside of the cabin, either. but his hands are wrong. his hands are wrong and he can’t be stanford but then why does he look like him? easy solution: everybody gets their memory wiped.

something something, stan may not know where the fuck he is, but he knows coming to in a room full of shady guys he doesn’t recognize is either gonna end with him losing teeth or a little bit of dignity, and he’d like to hold on to his teeth a little longer.

[wannabanauthor]

Tin foil hat time for BuckTommy:

While I believe Tommy should be the one to reach out to Buck, I don’t think that’s going to happen.

So here’s another fix it idea:

Buck learns how to fly a helicopter. He goes to Tommy’s house and practically drags him over to a helicopter but won’t tell Tommy what he’s doing.

Tommy goes along with it because he misses Buck so much, and even though he’s hurting, at least he gets to see him again and share a helicopter with him.

Buck flies them to Vegas, and Tommy is confused because there are no sports matches that day.

He’s confused until they end up in front of a jewelry store, and he’s starting to panic but follows Buck inside.

The clerk recognizes Buck and brings out Buck’s special order: two different sized engagement rings.

The one meant for Tommy is exactly what he would want in a ring, but he’s so confused until he sees Buck on one knee holding the ring in its box.

“Marry me,” Buck says. “I love you, and I want to be with you. I see a future for us even if it scares you.”

Tommy doesn’t give an answer just yet. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this?” He’s in tears and trying to hold them back.

Buck stands up and slides the ring onto Tommy’s ring finger.

“I want to marry you. I get that you’re afraid I’m eventually going to leave you, but I want to prove that I’m not going to. If you agree to marry me, know that I take this commitment seriously. Divorce is hard and lengthy, with or without a prenup. So maybe getting married will be the push we both need to make it work.”

Tommy stares at the ring on his finger. “This is a bad idea. It’s impulsive. Relationships don’t work that way.”

“An unconventional marriage for an unconventional couple. We don’t have to do marriage the way society says it has to be. We can create and shape it into whatever we want,” Buck says.

He pulls out some folders with paperwork and hands it to Tommy. “I had to call in a favor to get multiple versions of a prenup just to make sure we’re both protected if you want to sign one.”

Buck is still smiling at Tommy with love and hope in his eyes.

“Evan,” Tommy whispers and starts crying.

Buck pulls him into a hug and just holds him.

Buck hears some muffled sounds. “What was that?”

Tommy pulls back and wipes his eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Buck has a huge grin, and the clerk claps for them.

Buck pulls out a clipboard with a wedding itinerary.

“We have an appointment at a chapel in an hour. Our friends and family are there waiting for us.”

Tommy grins and kisses him softly, almost moaning at the feeling of Buck’s lips against his. He’s missed this.

His heart beats at an unnatural speed when they say their vows in front of their loved ones.

Tommy gets added to the 118 spouse group chat.

They have a mini honeymoon in Vegas in a really nice suite, and they spend most of their time in bed chatting and having sex, and even they do leave their room, it’s to consume an ungodly amount of food to fuel their sex marathons.

Once the weekend is over, Buck flies them back to LA. Their first kiss in their home city as a married couple happens at the Harbor Station, the very same place where Buck first met Tommy.

As for their living situation, they decide to be unconventional and switch off every week. A week at Buck’s loft, and then a week at Tommy’s house. It gives them to time to learn how to live with each other at each residence before choosing a permanent place to settle.

Of course, divorce is always an option, but Tommy loves married life with his husband, Evan Kinard.

He also promises to never call him “Buck” again.

And they spend the rest of their lives reaffirming their love for each other, and working through the difficult parts.

Finally, Tommy can relax, knowing he’s found the one.

[katzuukin]

I drew the funny frog man. (I used a drawing from my sketchbook for reference and a picture of bullfrog so I could steal his colors

Time lapse for anyone that wants it

[milflewis]

sometimes the love i have for my mam just really comes out and hits me in the stomach and now i’m sitting here with my feet in a river. trying not to cry

[m1d-45]

I DON'T THINK I WAS ANONYMOUS WHEN I SENT MY ASK FENDSFJCWASDGBNHRJSDFJSAFGBHFS But this is the person asking to be 🪷 anon 🥲 👍

anons original ask:

that’s quite alright ! don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal.

also, hello and welcome! admittedly, you’ve chosen a rather poor time to pop up (of no fault of your own, of course, i’ve just been rather [vague buzz of negativity] and very inactive on tumblr) but i do still check my notifications regularly. if you have any ideas you’d like to chat about, please feel free to send an ask !

[friendshiptothemax]

I was on a plane this weekend, and I was chatting with the woman sitting next to me about an upcoming writer’s strike. “Do you really think you’re mistreated?” she asked me.

That’s not the issue at stake here. Let me tell you a little something about “minirooms.”

Minirooms are a way of television writing that is becoming more common. Basically, the studio will hire a small group of writers, 3-6 or so, and employ them for just a few weeks. In those few weeks (six weeks seem to be common), they have to hurriedly figure out as much about the show as they can -- characters, plots, outlines for episodes. Then at the end of the six weeks, all the writers are fired except for the showrunner, who has to write the entire series themselves based on the outlines.

This is not a widespread practice, but it has become more common over the past couple of years. Studios like it because instead of paying for a full room for the full length of the show, they just pay a handful of writers for a fraction of the show. It’s not a huge problem now, but the WGA only gets the chance to make rules every three years -- if we let this go for another three years and it becomes the norm? That would be DEVASTATING for the tv writing profession.

Do I feel like I’m mistreated? No. I LOVE my job! But in a world of minirooms, there is no place for someone like me -- a mid-level writer who makes a decent living working on someone else’s show (I’d like to be a showrunner someday, but for now I feel like I still have a lot to learn, and my husband and I are trying to start a family so I like not being support rather than the leader for now). In a miniroom, there are only two levels -- the handful of glorified idea people who are already scrambling to find their next show because you can’t make a decent living off of one six-week job (and since there are fewer people per room, there are fewer jobs overall, even at the six-week amount), and the overworked, stressed as fuck showrunner who is going to have to write the entire thing themselves. Besides being bad for me making a living, I also just think it’s plain bad for television as an art form -- what I like about TV is how adaptable it is, how a whole group of people come together to tell a story better than what any of them could do on their own. Plus the showrunner can’t do their best work under all of that pressure, episode after episode, back to back. Minirooms just...fucking suck.

The WGA is proposing two things to fix this -- a rule that writers have to be employed for the entire show, and a rule tying the number of writers in the room to the number of episodes you have per season. I don’t think it’s unreasonable. It’s the way shows have run since the advent of television. It’s only in the last couple of years that this has become a new thing. It’s exploitative. It squeezes out everyone except showrunners and people who have the financial means to work only a few months a year. It makes television worse. And that is the issue in this strike that means everything to me, and that is why I voted yes on the strike authorization vote.

[loveluvrs]

the slip up l lando norris x reader

request/summary – lando and reader are in a secret established relationship, until lando accidentally slips up on stream

author's notes – first piece of writing, feedback appreciated!!! this is just my thoughts written down honestly, i didn’t have much idea where i was going with it so enjoy.

Max was streaming with Lando at his place. Lando drags his feet over to the stream room, sitting on a chair next to Max. He was scrolling on his phone, trying to pass the time. 

“Mate, I’m gonna leave, you’re being so boring,” Lando joked under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll make things more interesting then. Chat, wanna know something really interesting about Lando?” Max asked with a mischievous smile as he looked back at Lando. Lando watched with suspicion of what max could say next. 

“Lando’s got a secret girlfriend,” Max sings to annoy Lando. Lando’s eyes shot up, his heart pounding as he turned off his phone, the same phone he was using to text you, his girlfriend. “I don’t, chat, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to piss me off,” Lando says as he shoots Max a glare. 

—————

A few months later, everyone has chalked up that interaction to Max simply trying to annoy and rile up Lando, and no one thought much of it. On a miracle of a night in spring, Lando was in Monaco and decided to stream. He had a hoodie on, his hair all messy, but a smile on his face. About an hour into the stream, I knock on the door of his stream room quietly. Lando immediately turned off his video and mic, telling chat to give him a minute. 

I walk in, a black slip dress on with a cropped white cardigan, my hair and makeup done all fancy. “Hi, baby,” Lando says as he pulls me in by the waist, onto his lap. “Girls night tonight, right?” He says with a soft smile. He always makes sure to pay attention to anything I’ve mentioned to him, including my plans to hang out with Lily and Carmen tonight, Alex and George’s girlfriends. 

I hum in response. “Yeah, we’re gonna get dinner and then take some Instagram photos,” I say as I stand up from his lap, “you like the dress? It’s new.” I give him a little twirl to show off the dress. 

Lando smiles brightly. “I love it, baby, you look gorgeous. Like always,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. “Text me when you’re done and need me to pick you up, yeah?” I nod and smile. 

Once I leave, Lando puts his headset back on, turning his mic and camera back on. He scrunches up his face as he’s met by shouting from Max into his headset. “What’s your problem, man?” Lando asks with confusion. Max sighs. “Lando, you had your mic on the whole time. People heard that whole conversation and I was trying to tell you but as always, you ignored me,” Max says with some frustration in his voice, but mostly amusement. 

“Oh,” Lando says as he realizes what has happened. Not knowing what to do, Lando panics and ends stream. 

When my friends and I reach the restaurant, we find it pouring rain, which was the most of our worries since the restaurant was outdoor. With frowns, we all pile back into the car and drive ourselves home. I arrive home only twenty minutes after I left, my dress soaked. My brows furrow in confusion to see Lando on the couch on his phone when i come back, and not on stream. 

I slip off my shoes. “I thought you were streaming?” I ask softly as I make my way over to him. “What happened to you? You’re all soaked! Here, let me get you a towel and you can get dressed into some of my hoodie and sweats to get comfy,” Lando says, trying to avoid the fact that he had just live streamed his whole conversation with his girlfriend. 

I saw the panic in Lando’s eyes. “Stop,” I say as I stood in front of him, “what did you do?” Lando shoots me a bright grin. “I love you, babe. So so much. And you know I’d do anything for you.” This made me even more suspicious. “Lan,” I say as my eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay. I might have forgotten to mute my mic when we were talking right before you left. I swear I thought I had turned it off!” He says as he panics before beginning to ramble. “And I called you baby, and gorgeous, and your voice was heard too. And Max was telling me the whole time through my headset, but it was off and even if it were on, you know I don’t think about anything else when I’m with you. And there were thousands of people on the stream and you specifically told me you wanted to keep it private because you didn’t want to get hate crimed by the fans and you wouldn’t be able to handle it and I mean, I wanted to but it just slipped and im so so sorry but-“ He stops in confusion when a giggle escapes my lips. “Why aren’t you upset?” He asks slowly.

I smile as I slip my arms around his neck, his hands instinctively wrapping around my waist. “Well. Number one, you’re cute when you panic. Number two, no one saw me, so it’s okay. I mean, considering how in love you are with me, they were bound to find out at some point that you had a girlfriend,” I tease with a smile tugging at my lips. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully at me. “Okay, yeah. I am absolutely in love with you. Still, you’re not bothered by this?” he asks slowly, hesitation lacing his voice.

“I promise I’m not. It was a mistake. Plus, that just means it’s gonna be all the more fun trying to watch them figure out who it is you’re dating,” I say playfully with a giggle. 

“That’s true,” Lando says softly with a hum, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Although, don’t make me have to have you on adult supervision every time you stream now to make sure nothing else slips out of your mouth,” I tease as I playfully poke his side. 

“Ah! Okay okay, promise,” he says with a giggle as he leans in for a gentle and loving kiss.

[felixknow]

Hannie's 🍒 fixation

Han/f!reader, friends who do something sexual...by accident...? nah, Han is a boob guy and wants to put his mouth to good use

ADULTS ONLY, MDNI, I don't want teenagers reading my NSFW posts

Since meeting Han, your friendship has been touchy-feely.

Maybe it’s because you’re both introverts who like quality time rather than chatting. Maybe it’s because your love languages are both physical touch.

Either way, a night in at your place watching anime is completely normal. Laying side by side in your bed, both scrolling on your phones, not even paying attention to the plot of the show you’ve both seen a dozen times.

No one has spoken in, like, an hour but it’s honestly so nice you don’t even care.

Han giggles and lays his phone against his chest, covering his bare face as it turns red.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, nudging him.

“Ahhhh, I need this,” he says, turning his phone toward you. It’s a picture of a blonde girl wearing a crop top that reads "Had a bad day? You can play with my boobs."

"This would make literally everything better," he chuckles, looking at you expectantly-- in his head he’s waiting for a giggle or a funny reaction, not for what you actually say.

"Good thing I have a perfectly good pair of tits right here," you blurt without thinking.

"Really?!" he asks excitedly, dropping his phone as he rotates toward you, now laying on his side facing you instead of on his back. His eyes are so bright and excited, and his hand is already sliding up your torso-- how could you say no?

"Yeah," you say softly, shrugging. "I don't mind. We're friends,” you add on, becoming less sure as you talk. “I trust you."

"This is the best day of my life," he says as one of his hands cups one of your breasts and squeezes gently. "Oh-- is this your nipple?" he asks, walking his fingers back a couple of inches until two press down over your half-hard bud.

"Yes," you confirm, laughing softly. Your face warms up, all the way down your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice given that his eyes are so entranced on your chest.

"It's so cute," he coos, pressing your shirt down flat so your nipple pokes against it. Before you can formulate a thought, he's reaching over to your other boob, squeezing and feeling carefully until he finds your other nipple. It perks up in interest as he touches it, and your breath hitches in your throat when he starts very purposefully flicking his finger back and forth, trying to perk it up. 

"Aw, come on," he mumbles to himself. "It was hard and then it got soft again."

Probably because I'm starting to get flustered and trying to be calm, you think but don't tell him.

He pinches your sensitive bud between his fingers and rolls harshly, sending a very intense and quick shock through you. You bite your lip to stop a noise from escaping. Your heart rate is increasing and your skin is becoming much more sensitive to his touch. And he smells so good…

I'm so pathetic. He's barely been touching me a minute and it's making me horny.

"Ahh, there we go," he says happily now that your nipple is distinct through your t-shirt. You watch as a thought crosses his mind, making his eyebrows furrow slightly as his bottom lip pouts. 

Then he leans down, swiftly sucking your nipple through your shirt.

"Ahhhh," you moan, finally unable to hold it in. You grab fistfuls of your blankets in an effort to keep your hands to yourself. Somehow touching him, even just playing with his hair, would make this far more real than it already is.

"I was wondering when you'd make noise," he says, looking up at you with the most innocent eyes. Then he goes back, sucking you through your shirt while he gets his other hand up and onto your other tit as he turns and half lays on you, working his way until his legs and hips are between your thighs.

He kneads and squishes one boob while sucking the other nipple. Half of this is what you expected him to do-- maybe touch and hold your boobs for a minute or so and then laugh it off. You didn’t expect this. Not him soaking a wet patch through the front of your shirt.

Not one of his hands sneaking under your blanket to find the bottom hem.

Not him yanking your shirt up to your collarbones, breathing a soft "wow" while his sparkly eyes take in the sight of your naked chest.

"Hannie," you say with an unsure tone, but he either doesn't hear you or ignores it. Instead he leans in once more and kisses your nipple. He drags his soft lips against your bare skin and breathes in the smell of you. You're so warm against his cheek and he feels completely lost in the selfish pleasure of playing with you.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, twisting both of your nipples between his fingers. He pouts as he waits for your response, clearly wanting you to say yes.

You nod shyly and pull the collar of your shirt up to hide the bottom part of your face.

He beams up at you, then laughs and pulls your shirt back down.

“Hey, don’t hide from me. I want to see you.” He licks a circle around your burningly sensitive nipple. “And hear you,” he adds, sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You moan softly, cautiously reaching one hand up to rest on his back. He hums and flicks his tongue then releases your nipple with a pop.

“This really is the best,” he says, giving your other nipple equal treatment. He once again lets go with a dramatic pop.

“This is my favorite thing we’ve ever done.”

He switches back again but goes faster, sucks harder, making himself out of breath as he ravenously indulges in your chest.

“Fuck, your tits are so hot, baby.”

“Mmm,” you whine softly, turning your head away and covering your face slightly.

“Hey, I said don’t hide. What, you don’t think your tits are hot or something?”

“They’re not. They’re big but they sag. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s fucking hot,” he insists, crawling a little higher so he can see you better. You can’t help but to gasp when you feel his hard-on slide against your crotch. “Do you know how many guys like big tits? I don’t care if they’re hanging down to your fucking stomach.” He smirks. “They’re easier to get in my mouth that way.”

“Oh my god, Hannie,” you laugh, playfully pushing on his cheek to move his head away from you.

“I’m so serious,” he says, though he laughs. “I can’t believe you’re letting me play with them. I’m on cloud nine.”

“I can kind of tell,” you say softly, shifting just enough so he feels the movement against his crotch and knows you’ve noticed his boner.

“Oh yeah,” he says, face blushing even deeper than yours. “You know what would be even better than playing with your tits?”

“What?”

“Eating you out.”

masterlist | Click here for part 2

[polyamorouspunk]

“Why Don’t You Just Move?”

A look at rural queerness and the hardcore scene.

With the recent and still on-going tragedy left in the wake of Hurricane Helene, a lot of light is being shed on southern states that make up Appalachia.

There’s a lot of misconceptions about Appalachia and the southern United States as a whole. There are a lot of good users on this website that have put a lot of effort into combating these harmful stereotypes and clearing up misconceptions.

But there’s more than just Appalachia in the south. There’s a lot of middle ground. Places that aren’t as rural as Appalachia, but places that aren’t as populated as cities like Raleigh, Richmond, Memphis, etc.

Places where people gather surrounded by other agricultural hubs.

There are queer people everywhere. In every culture, every religion, every country, in all of history, we have existed. We cannot and we will not be erased.

A common narrative that’s floated around for many years is “if red states are passing laws that are constructive to the LGBT+ community, then why don’t those people just move?”

So why don’t we just move?

I’m sure you can find a lot of well-written posts on here explaining many reasons why queer people not just in the southern states, but all over the world don’t “just move”, and one reason I’ve seen echoed over and over again is that “we have thriving communities here too”. We exist too.

How does one “be punk”?

It’s a question my mutuals and I get a lot, and a lot of us are tired of hearing it.

What does it mean to be punk?

Is it about the music? The clothes? The politics? Can you be punk if? Is it punk if you? Who? What? Where? When?

One common beginner tip to “being punk” is to find and join the local scene. This can lead to a lot of other questions, though. What is a scene? Where does one find the scene? How does one participate in the scene? Is there a minimum requirement?

Rest assured, literally no one is asking this offline.

A hardcore scene is so much more than just hardcore. A scene is a group of people where music is a common thread that builds the basis of other connections. A hardcore scene isn’t necessarily even hardcore.

“You have to listen to punk music to be punk”. Sure. But here’s the thing. In your local hardcore scene you will find: metal musicians, rappers, and more. You will attend shows with blues music, orchestras, and more.

Sometimes it’s not even music at all! Sometimes there is drag! Sometimes there are movie nights! Sometimes there are group outings!

It’s almost like… it’s just a social construct.

What is the local scene? The local scene is loud music. It’s smoking and drinking. It’s stopping by the corner store and the smoke and vape. It’s carpooling. It’s movie nights. It’s text chains. It’s group chats. It’s he-said-she-said. It’s they said. It’s AMAB enbies. It’s people who don’t care about “passing”. It’s DIY HRT. It’s she was a lesbian until she met him. It’s situationships. It’s hooking up and coming down. It’s bouncing from place to place to meet up with each other. It’s showing up someplace and seeing who’s there and waiting around to see who’s coming. It’s late nights spent partying on the weekends and back to school and work come the weekdays. It’s knowing someone by looks or name even if you haven’t put the two together yet. It’s trading socials. It’s Instagram stories and comments. It’s “DM for Address”. It’s “are you going tonight?” It’s “do you need a ride?” It’s “who else is going?”. It’s going somewhere and asking who’s coming. It’s sitting around on broken chairs and lawn furniture passing around a blunt, sharing a 24 pack of beer that 4 of you ran out to get with money you all pooled together, it’s “should we order pizza?” It’s “I brought donuts”. It’s hanging out in each other’s houses and rooms. It’s respecting the businesses that offer to house you. It’s generational friendships. It’s listening to your friends as they joke about their heritage and talk about their cultures. It’s the dog you pet when you’re sitting on the curb in ripped fishnets taking drunk selfies with your friends. It’s the man playing you the harmonica as you sit outside the THC drink bar on a Saturday night. It’s sitting out in the yard listening to someone play an acoustic set where they talk about the war and poverty and politics while you slowly get high surrounded by your friends. It’s sitting on a dock in the middle of the night fishing listening to emo music huddled together with your friends. It’s autistic people showing each other the bugs they’ve found in the dirt. It’s talking about your disabilities together. It’s shoving your friends in the pit and then holding their hands. It’s seeing the cos guys in their 40s and 50s who tend the bar and work the register calling you by whatever name and pronouns you give them. It’s all of this and so much more, and it cannot be conceptualized by one single fashion style, one single music style, one single belief system. It’s not someone calling you out because you went to Chick-Fil-A and don’t you know that’s bad, it’s not someone telling you that you’re a poser because you like Chappell Roan too or your clothes were bought at Forever 21 not thrifted and DIYed.

Everyone likes to talk about folk punk and other genres that bands like Dayz and Daze have popularized- or according to some, commodified and commercialized- but if you’re going to talk about music like folk punk, you’re going to have to respect the areas that it originated in.

Everyone want’s to talk about “local punk bands” when half the bands you’re seeing don’t even fall under the genre of punk.

Your local scene isn’t always going to be skate parks and thrash music.

Sometimes it’s the mom cooking you and all your queer friends dinner on a Friday night in her kitchen with crosses and a picture frame of her family with the quote “live, laugh, love”.

Sometimes it’s sitting around and listening to men who are old enough to be your grandfather with Vietnam Veteran hats play the blues while a pig roasts in a backyard BBQ, even though you’re in your 20s and you have blue hair and pronouns.

It’s sitting around and listening to your elders talk about how the scene used to be “back in the day”. Talk about the shows they’ve been to, the bands they’ve seen in their prime.

It’s asking what you do for work, where do you live, what brought you down here, what’s your college major?

It’s people. It’s people connecting to people. Regardless of the color of their skin. Regardless of gender or sexuality. It’s people of all ages coming together to listen to music with the idea that what you all have in common is living here and now, hating politicians, and thinking that someone should do something about the shitty state the world is in. It’s not a conglomerate. It’s individuality, and there’s no real wrong way of doing it unless you’re a Trump Supporter or a Nazi, and even then, they still have their own factions of the punk scene that are going to overlap with yours on occasion. The best you can do then is stand up for what you believe in and stay safe.

There are scenes just like mine all over this country. In southern states, in rural areas, in places that other, mainly white queers have “written off”.

So why don’t we just move?

Because this is our scene, and it’s what we make it, and in the heart of the south in the Bible Belt, we’re making it a queer-inclusive space despite what’s happening around us.

[harrysfolklore]

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

[no-144444]

family issues-l.norris (no.4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! sky presenter! reader

summary: lando (and his mum) are there for you during a difficult time.

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P1. Pole position. Incredible. 

“Well done,” you smiled, hugging him close as he entered his driver’s room. “You did really well.”

You could feel his smile against your neck. “Thanks baby.”

You stayed there like that for a moment, just holding each other, then he pulled back with a big smile on his face. “OH! My mum is here, you can finally meet her!”

A part of your heart sank, and another part lifted. You’d met a good portion of his family and they were all lovely. It’s just that every time you met a part of his family, he wanted to meet a part of your family. You’d been dating for a year now, and up until 2 months ago, yeah, he could’ve met your family. But then… they decided to go no-contact with you. They just told you not to call or visit anymore. You weren’t their daughter anymore. Whatever, that was fine. Your parents were emotionally unavailable due to your sister’s mental health issues, and your sister didn’t treat you well at all. You were the glass child. 2 months ago you’d gone to dinner with them and your sister brought up all your ‘happy memories’, but all of them were moments without you, or moments where you were the joke. You’d gotten upset at them, and apparently that was all they needed to kick you out of the family. So much for love. So much for blood. Lando couldn’t make it to that dinner, and he was so upset that he couldn’t. He was worried your parents thought he wasn’t serious, or that he was dodging meeting them, but you told him not to worry, that they’d meet ‘another time’. Now, you were out of chances. You didn't tell Lando about the fight or everything that came after, he’d been struggling enough with his own mental health without you having to burden him with yours. So, you just swallowed it and told yourself you’d tell him over the summer shutdown. Then, Lando was having so much fun that you didn’t want to ruin it, so you decided you’d tell him after Singapore. Probably. Maybe. 

“Awesome!” you smiled. Even you could tell you didn’t sound right, too pitchy, too awkward, too surprised. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you nodded. “Where is she? I want to meet her.” 

He nodded, still sceptical but obliged you and led you to his mother. Cisca was warm and welcoming, funny and kind, and just a good person. You saw so much of her in Lando. He was beaming as he watched you two interact, so happy that two of the most important people in his life got along. You spent the whole afternoon together as Lando went on with his duties, chatting about your lives, sharing stories about Lando and yourselves, you even got to see some embarrassing baby photos of Lando.

“So what about your parents? Do they ever come to the races?” She asked, a big smile on her face. 

“Well, no actually. We don’t talk much,” you chuckled. 

She raised an eyebrow, the same way Lando does. “Really? Lan told me that you were quite close with them?”

You sighed. “Can I tell you something? And you can’t tell Lan.”

She nodded and took your hand. “Of course.”

“2 months ago my parents disowned me. Lan has been begging to meet them and I have no idea what to tell him. I feel awful about it, and I didn’t want to add to his stress so I just keep lying to him telling him they’re busy. I just feel so… guilty,” you admitted. 

She sighed. “You poor girl. It's awful that you have to go through all of that on your own.” 

“Well, it’s not that bad,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

“It is. And that’s ok. It’s ok to be upset,” she smiled warmly. “I know my son, and he has not shut up about you since he met you as a sky presenter 2 years ago. Lan is a family-oriented person, and he’s just excited to be a part of your family and have you be a part of ours. He’d want to be there for you, the same way you’re there for him.”

You could feel yourself tearing up. You’d never had someone be so kind to you, never had someone treat you like a daughter. “Thank you,” you smiled sadly. 

“And anyways, your parents suck, you can be my daughter now,” she smiled.

And you definitely cried. But, they were happy tears. You’d found your family. 

---------------

After your eye-opening conversation with Cisca, you decided you’d come clean to Lando. As you two entered your room he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. 

“How was my mum today?” he asked, his voice deep with tiredness, and eyes heavy with sleep. 

“She was amazing, we had a bunch of fun,” you smiled. “Can I talk to you about something?”

He nodded. “‘Course baby.”

“It’s about my family.” 

Lando woke up slightly, sitting on the bed as you stood between his legs. “Alright.”

“2 months ago, after that dinner I went to, they cut contact and disowned me. It was up to my sister why and well, we know how much he hates me. So yeah, I have no family anymore, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to burden you with it.”

You looked at Lando and his face was a mixture of anger, guilt, and upset. He cleared his throat and his grip around your waist got tighter. “Number one, I’m so sorry that happened to you. That’s fucking shit and your parents don’t deserve you. Number two, you will never ever be a burden to me. Ever. You’re the most important person in my life. I love you Y/n, more than anything. I always want you to come to me about things that are happening and how you feel. Number three, fuck your family, you’re my family, alright?” 

You chuckled sadly, running your fingers through his hair. “Right. Thanks Lan, I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you more.”

“I feel it,” you smiled. He stood up and kissed your cheek. 

“Seriously, I’m here for you, always. Never forget that.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know. I won’t.”

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