#I will add more to this if any come to mind

[kdinjenzen]

So with all the stuff going on around Nintendo Vs Pocketpair I feel like people are missing the point of what's going on.

And this article actually finally brings up the biggest point: Nintendo has 1000s of patents and chooses not to enforce them all on everyone.

The idea that, quoting the article and Serkan Toto, "Nintendo's sweeping list of patents means it likely "could have sued half of the gaming industry back in 2017," …so like WHY NOT DO THAT?

There's a million reasons to not do it for Nintendo but TLDR is it's just bad business for them to do so.

The real take away is -what has PocketPair/Palworld done- that has brought out Nintendo to start enforcing these things in this particular situation?

A lot if you pay attention to PocketPair/Palworld's marketing and social presence. They threw rocks at Nintendo, so Nintendo is finally pushing back.

Now I'm not going to fully go to bat for Nintendo and say "they are a good company" because there's no such thing truly…

But in most cases with Nintendo, they C&D folks multiple times before even thinking of escalating anything to real legal trouble. Which is kinder than most companies.

The final thought of the article says that Nintendo may feel "threatened" by PalWorld but… I don't buy it.

Pokemon is THE highest grossing franchise in the world… ever… of all time. It's total revenue is around $100 BILLION with a B.

PalWorld, even at it's height, didn't even come close.

The aspects that I think Nintendo decided to act upon in their mind for this is the brazen bold rudeness and shit talking that happened on social media/marketing with PocketPair/Palworld.

PLUS the fact that Pokemon fans were also quick to be like "bruh, even if this isn't stolen it's obviously design lifted" for a lot of Palworld's Pals.

Add in the fact that both Microsoft and now Sony have pulled PalWorld onto their platforms… Nintendo is going to notice and get mad.

The truth is that PocketPair is an indie dev… with major AAA studios behind it now in a lot of ways. Which actually hurts PocketPair in a sense.

Nintendo tends to ignore indie stuff and has actually collabed with many indie studios before in major ways, so they aren't anti-indie.

Nintendo is OLD SCHOOL and expects a little bit of respect.

Nintendo has not taken action against pretty much any of the other true new Tiny Critter Collecting Indie IP that have popped up, a lot of them are ON Nintendo platforms and have had Nintendo feature them in directs…

But PocketPair threw rocks. Nintendo easily saw this as disrespect, but could be ignored.

What CAN'T be is the outcry from their own fanbase to "look into things" with PalWorld to see what, if anything, was lifted from Nintendo directly.

And Nintendo did. They took over a year to look into it.

This isn't Nintendo doing a knee jerk reaction, they went over things and took their time to research what PalWorld and PocketPair were doing.

Nintendo isn't stupid. They don't pick fights for no reason.

Regardless of if you LIKE Nintendo, or your feelings on a big company taking on a little company… Nintendo is very likely on the right side of business, IP, and patent law here.

Nintendo -losing- here would be, actually, really bad for small folks more than big guys in the long run.

Adding in the fact that PocketPair launched a generative Ai art game on top of all that…

This feel like, yes, Nintendo is flexing in a lot of ways but… they chose who to flex on and not to flex on -everyone-… so there seems to be a solid reason as to -why-.

Again the real take away is that IF Nintendo could have sued half of the gaming industry (as of 2017) with all the patents they have … why didn't they and WHY are they choosing to sue PocketPair/Palworld -now-?

Because that's more important than anything else.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

NOW PLAYING

BREAKFAST, LUNCH, & DINNER PT. 1

Starring: Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

The JJK men tend to have a healthy appetite when it comes to you

Warnings! oral (f receiving), overstimulation, praise, face-sitting, fingering, male masturbation, ass-play, degradation

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Choso Kamo: Determined <3

Choso maybe does a little bit too much research. He’s heard that some women don’t necessarily like getting head as much as other things. He can’t fathom this because you sucking his dick is about the most pleasurable thing he can think of besides being stuffed inside your cunt. Regardless, he wants to do his very best to make sure this is as pleasurable for you as it is for him; he’s just so concerned he’ll do a bad job. & it makes no difference how much you assure him that “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetie,” & that even if he does do a bad job, you won’t be upset. No, that only encourages him that he needs to make this as good as possible. So when he finally makes up his mind, he’ll let you know as straightforward as usual, probably a text that has you choking on your coffee at 10:00am: “I want to eat you out tonight Y/N.” Straight to the point, as usual. & of course you’re excited, but a swirl of nervousness begins coiling in your stomach. Last time he had his head between your thighs, he was there for hours. 

He doesn’t like it when you talk, especially coherently, that means he’s not doing his job. “Faster? But when I go faster with my cock you cry. . .” “It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?” “Shhh, s’okay, know you can cum for me again, pretty girl, don’t you wanna cum? I love it when you cum on my tongue, just for me.”

He tries to praise you, mimic the sweet things you say to him when you’re jerking him off or riding his cock, but he’s almost as fucked out as you are, & the praise never seems to sound as good spilling from his lips as it does from yours—at least, that’s what he thinks. But his soft spoken, sweet words cause your cunt to pulse against his tongue, so he tries for you anyways; tries anything, because if it gets you off, makes you feel even a fraction as good as you make him feel, he’s more than willing to do it!

He’s the type to eat you out until he loses track of time, cumming in his own pants once or twice, he doesn’t even need to put his cock in you. & it isn’t until you’re cross-eyed, sweaty, voice hoarse, & crying for him that he even considers stopping. “Did it feel good?” If you had any energy, you’d smack him upside the head. 

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Kento Nanami: Generous <3

If you were to ask Nanami what his favorite thing to do in bed was, it would be–hands-down, without a doubt, easily—eating you out. Of course, he’s a service top until the day he dies, but it’s more than that; he genuinely derives pleasure from making you feel good. After a long day of work, he comes home exhausted, bags under his eyes, muscles sore, & you’re thinking what you could do to make him feel better: a nice shower, a massage, & maybe—if he’d let you—sucking his dick. You’re pretty pleased with yourself about this little plan until you’ve got him in the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to turn on the shower & he’s tugging on your arm, pulling you down on the bed & wordlessly working off your pants. 

“Kento? Don’t you wanna shower first?” 

He shakes his head, “need to taste you, sweetheart, need it.” 

He hooks his arms under your knees, pulling your legs up & over his broad shoulders, making himself comfortable, in for the long haul.

His favorite is when you’ve sat down on him, hands gripping the headboard, mindlessly grinding against his face, chasing your own pleasure, head empty.  You feel bad sometimes, sitting on his face, or grinding your cunt against him, squeezing your thighs around his head, pulling his hair, but if anything, this adds to his enjoyment of it. He could sit with his head between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, & you always let him because he’s just so damn good at it; you don’t have to tell him what you want, what you need, because he already knows. 

He sticks his tongue into your tight hole, relishing, moaning at the way it spasms around it, working a finger in alongside it, curling it up to that special spot that has you throwing your head back & whining his name. Sucking on your clit, almost meanly because he knows, he knows, how overstimulated you are, how it hurts so good. 

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Kiyotaka Ijichi: Desperate <3

“You-you taste so good, pretty girl, s’good, please, n-no, don’t gotta run from it,” he whines as you attempt to rock your hips up off the bed, obviously grinding his hips onto the bed, hoping you won’t notice. He’s just so eager, he needs you to cum against his face just one more time. He’s whining like a poor puppy when you pull on his hair. Pathetic moans fill the air, & you’re losing it because there’s no technique, no method to the madness, just pure, sheer, utter desperation. & he’s apologizing into your soaking cunt as he ruts into the bed through his orgasm, potentially gaining more pleasure from this than you. It was always so easy to make Kiyotaka feel good, just your moans of “more, more, so good, Kiyo” had him whining into your pussy, palming his sore dick through his boxers. 

What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in eagerness; eager is the perfect word for the way Kiyotaka eats you, tongue lying flat over & over on your slit, tongue slipping in & out of your puckering hole, thumb circling your clit constantly, overwhelming your poor cunt. 

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Sukuna Ryomen: Aloof <3

It was rare that Sukuna ate you out, not because he doesn’t like it, don’t get it twisted, but it’s so vulnerable of him, & he can’t fully control himself when he’s between your legs. He’s contrastingly gently, savoring every inch of you, alternating between sucking on your thighs, teasing you to no end, & assaulting your clit with his tongue & his fingers. He loves to have your hips in his hands, manhandling you how he wants, fingertips leaving bruises on your waist, growling when you whine out, “w-wait ‘Kuna, s’too much,” because “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place?” 

Maybe you had wanted this, but you hadn’t expected him to go on for so long. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen Sukuna have any form of patience, barely even prepping you before bullying his cocks into you, but here he was, taking his time with you, not even worried about his own pleasure, too enchanted by your honeyed pussy, just begging for him. 

He’ll never tell you this, but his favorite time to eat you out is when you’re on your period; he’ll disguise it by saying that it makes your scent stronger, but really he just wants to ease your pain & make you feel better.

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Toji Fushiguro: Rug Muncher <3

God, he’s an asshole. Don’t get it wrong, he loves eating that sweet cunt of yours, but he also loves nothing more than teasing you. He’s got you on your knees, upper body resting on the sheets, pressing the chastest of kisses on your thighs, your folds, hands slowly gripping your ass, spreading it open for him, swirling his tongue around your puckered hole just above your pussy, pushing a finger in even though he knows you’re cunt is aching for him. He’ll get there. . .eventually. 

“Nghh—n-no, Toji, n-not there,” you whine, trying to pull away from his finger, but he just pushes it in deeper. 

“Not there? Where d’ya want in then, princess?” & fuck it, he knows where you want it, but he just can’t get over how perfect you are like this: needy, desperate, unabashed. You’re not afraid to beg for what you want. But he doesn’t give you time to ask. “You sure you aren’t just pretending not to like it? ‘Cause your pussy clenches every time I put my finger in here.” He laughs meanly, but then he’s sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking fat stripes front to back, spitting on it, shaking his head all up in it. Toji likes it when you give him messy head, & so of course he likes to return the favor.

You’re reaching down to rub your clit while he’s taking his sweet time getting you off & then he’s swatting your hand away because you’re gonna take what he gives you or get nothing at all.

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no, your honor, i don't believe in writing ooc headcanons. . .

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[seungkw1]

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace. 

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements. 

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become. 

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it. 

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you. 

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak. 

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot. 

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool. 

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you. 

“Love you too.”

You freeze. 

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment. 

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject. 

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you. 

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys. 

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further. 

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains. 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name. 

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further. 

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home. 

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him. 

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung. 

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat.  “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him. 

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours. 

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?” 

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. 

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs. 

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly. 

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates. 

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now. 

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture. 

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies. 

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you. 

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.  

A smile creeps onto his face. 

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands. 

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him. 

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat. 

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more. 

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near. 

“Feels so good baby.” 

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.” 

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this. 

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head. 

“C’mere,” he pleads softly. 

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch. 

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky. 

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him. 

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours. 

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin. 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear. 

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear. 

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms. 

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep. 

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt. 

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second. 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again. 

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud. 

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you. 

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy. 

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade. 

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg. 

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release. 

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…” 

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move. 

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips. 

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin. 

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently. 

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right. 

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss. 

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe. 

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face. 

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss. 

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm. 

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you. 

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[sturniqlo]

hii can u do smth about dad!matt obsessing over baby clothes in the store like u found out u were pregnant and he’s at the store the next day 😭 or js at any point in ur pregnancy and he sees baby aisle full of clothes and toys he cant contain himself

Tiny Shopping- M.S

summary: five times when matt was overly excited to shop for his baby.

cw: slight cursing, FLUFF

an: thank you anon for the idea! | lowercase intended

masterlist | mia masterlist | join my taglist

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

ONE

"babe?" matt enters his home he shares with his girlfriend. "in the kitchen." she speaks loud enough so he can hear her. "look what i got at the store." matt enters the kitchen excitedly, holding something behind his back. yesterday y/n had gave him the best news ever, they were expecting a baby.

"what'd you get?" she puts the down half eaten bagel. "well, me, nick and chris went to the store, and i saw this so i bought it." matt places the plastic bag on the counter in front of her bagel. "open it, go ahead." he pushes the bag closer to her. "okay." she says, grabbing the bag and pulls out a eeyore plushie.

"matt! it's so cute, oh my gosh." she holds it up. "i know it might the a bit early since we just found out. but, i just had to." he rounds the island and hugs her from behind. "it's never to early, babe." she turns her head and kisses him. "i love it, we can put it inside of the crib once we get one."

TWO

"how's this shirt- matt?" y/n had picked up a shirt for an even they had to go to in a couple of weeks, however when she turned around matt was nowhere to be found. "matt?" she walks around the women's section. as she steps out to the main aisle, she sees matt's curls across the women's section in the baby clothing.

"babe, i was looking for you." she smiles when she sees matt's arm is full of baby clothes. "sorry, i just saw this tiny dress and got carried away." he nods down to the pile in his arm. "a dress? we don't know what the baby is yet." she says. "i know, i know. but, i have a feeling it's a girl, plus, look at it. so so tiny." he holds it up. "oh, we definitely need to buy it." y/n nods.

"as much as i want to buy all of these. we need to bring it down a bit. we have eight more months to buy them more clothes." they had gotten a bit carried away and ended up almost filling a cart up with baby clothes. "you're right." matt bites the inside of his cheek deciding what items to put back.

THREE

"oh matt! look at this one!" nick coos holding up a fluffy bear onesie. "put it in the cart." matt rolls it over to nick. "matt," chris comes up next to matt holding up some bibs. "look at these, they all have 'my first holidays'." matt grabs the bibs and flips through them. "y/n bought these the other day but in onesie form. let's get the matching bibs." he drops them into the cart.

"we're back!" chris announces. "hey guys, what'd you guys end up getti-" y/n stops herself mid sentence when she sees each of them holding two bags from carters. "wait- before you say anything, just look at what we bought." matt says.

FOUR

both matt and y/n were laying on the couch watching harry potter, mostly matt because y/n was on her laptop scrolling through baby websites adding items into her online shopping cart. "this is cute." she says to herself, pressing the add to cart button, "can i see?" matt lifts his head up from her thighs. "it's a pair of shoes, what do you think?" she flips the screen so he can see.

"adorable. did you add them?" she nods. "you read my mind." he leans up and pecks her lips. matt goes back to watching the movie and y/n keeps on scrolling. "oh my gosh, baby look at this one." she gasps, and turns the laptop to him.

"oh, i bought that one yesterday."

FIVE

"alright, do you like this one?" matt holds up a sweater and shows the baby on his hip. the small girl only sticks her tongue out of habit. "you're right, looks like it'd be too hot." he puts it back on the rack. "let's look over here. hey, look, how about this hat." he grabs it off of the shelf and puts it on her tiny head. "awe, look at you." he coos.

"let's go look for your mommy." he heads to the cleaning supply aisle where he knows she'd be at. "baby, look at mia. we need to buy it." y/n grabs a new sponge and turns her head at matt's voice. "oh, look at my baby. you look so cute, mia." she gasps and walks over to the smiling baby on matt's hip. mia giggles at her moms coos. "i'm guessing you like it?"

[startanewdream]

I've always wanted to write a scene of mutual agreement and support (friendship is a strong word) between Ginny and Romilda Vane, so here's around 1600 words of something that might have happened during Year 7.

*****

They wait until after dinner to round on her.

Ginny is mildly surprised; she'd guessed they would question her as soon as she got off the train, but perhaps they thought that Snape's speech—not the Headmaster's, she'd never consider him so—might terrify her enough to make her betray everything she has ever believed on. If so, they were very mistaken; seeing Snape in the middle of the staff table, with Death Eaters by his side, only infused her Gryffindor spirit.

"Weasley," calls Alecto Carrow. She has a mind to pretend to ignore her, but the mass of students climbing the stairs seems to freeze with that call, and Ginny has no choice but to answer it, all eyes on her as she walks to Alecto Carrow.

"Yes, Professor." She puts as much spite in that word as she can. Neville and Luna suddenly materialize next to her, and Ginny almost wishes they would stay away, as if there is any protection to be found this year.

Alecto looks her up and down. "That's it?" Her voice is mocking. "That's Potter's girlfriend?"

By her side, Crabble and Goyle nod; their gazes are not as unappreciative as Alecto's. With a shudder, Ginny thinks she will favour disdain any day.

"I thought Potter had better taste."

She buries her nails into her palm. Don't answer, she tells herself, and tries to keep a look of disinterest.

"Where is your boyfriend?"

Her rehearsed answer comes in a bored tone. "I would know if I had any." It feels more than ever that everyone is staring at her.

Alecto doesn't seem convinced, nor do her cronies.

"They were dating," says Goyle, in a whisper that everyone can hear. "Everyone saw it, they were snogging all around the place."

"It's what happens when you are dating someone," snaps Ginny. "We've broken up." She hesitates for a tiny beat. "He dumped me."

This time her rehearsed line doesn't sound credible, despite being the truth. Everyone's gaze seems to burn, evaluating her answer, and, for a moment, Ginny waits for someone to question this, to raise the absurdity of her words: they were in love. As Goyle had noted, anyone could see how they felt about each other; Harry had been beaming the whole time they were together, all those few weeks of sunshine and happiness and hope. Harry wouldn't just dump her—

And then Alecto Carrow laughs.

"I guess Potter already got what he was after, then?" She mocks. "Blood traitors aren't a good value if..."

"Perhaps the girl is lying," another voice pops in, and Ginny turns to see Amycus Carrow joining his sister. His gaze upon her makes Ginny shiver; she remembers all too well duelling him. "Perhaps she knows more than she's letting on—"

"I wouldn't think so," Luna says, her voice as dreaming as ever. "If she knew, she wouldn't be here."

"Harry always kept his secrets," Neville adds, crossing his arms.

Amycus and Alecto share a look before Amycus takes a step forward.

"I will be the judge of that. If we have Potter's precious girlfriend—"

"I am not even his girlfriend anymore!"

It doesn't seem to matter, though. Terror floods her, not so much for herself; there isn't anything that she can share with them, but if somehow Harry finds out that they've got her—their breakup will be for nothing—he is too stupid and too noble to do something reckless—

Amycus grabs her arm; Ginny dives her hand into her pocket, but before she can take out her wand, many things happen. Professor McGonagall appears, Neville points his wand at Amycus, and Romilda Vane laughs nervously.

"Please," she says. "Weasley was his girlfriend, so what?”

That makes everyone draw their eyes to her. Romilda tosses her hair out of her face, seemingly enjoying the attention, but Ginny can see a thin layer of sweat breaking through the girl's careful makeup.

"Harry was always smiling at me, flirting unashamedly, even when he was dating her. I wasn’t the only one either. Everyone knew he wasn't good business. A ladies' man, that one."

Ginny blinks; she is not alone. The year before, when Harry was at the height of his popularity at Hogwarts, everyone's favourite Chosen One, he had drawn many eyes. Ginny had found it bothersome, but she could understand what everyone was seeing: that gorgeous young man with messy dark hair and green eyes, tall and fit, with the added benefit of seeming oblivious to his own charm, almost shy. It had been endearing.

That also was one of the reasons why, when Harry and Ginny started dating, everyone wanted to talk about it. It had been huge news for Hogwarts' standard.

There was no way anyone would believe that Romilda was telling the truth.

"Potter never had any other girlfriend," Crabbe mumbles.

Romilda laughs derisively. "I wasn't his girlfriend, haven't you heard what I just said? He just liked to flirt." She nudges her friend. "Do you remember, Lisa? I told you Harry never took his eyes off me."

Lisa looks terrified, but she nods. "Yes," she confirms in a small voice. "And you—you shared chocolate once."

"Harry dated Cho," someone from the Ravenclaw crowd says, and there's a murmur of agreement.

"I went with Harry to a Christmas party last year," notes Luna. She skips the part where they went as friends.

"I think I saw him snogging a girl behind the greenhouses," Hannah Abbott says.

At her side, a boy nods. "I saw something in the library once."

People start adding comments, their voices mingling in a cacophony. The weirdest part is that Ginny knows no one is lying; people are telling about the times they saw Harry with a girl — only she was this girl, this only girl, but no one specifies that.

"Quiet, quiet!" Alecto sounds annoyed. She looks at Crabbe and Goyle. "Is this true?"

They shrug, lost.

"I saw Potter with Chang at Madam Puddifoot's," Pansy Parkinson confirms, distasteful. "And he went with Loony Lovegood to Slughorn's party."

"That would be Professor Slughorn, Miss Parkinson," chides Professor McGonagall, taking a definite step ahead and placing herself between the Carrows and Ginny. She raises her arm and, almost without a second glance, lowers Neville's still extended arm. "I do not see why a student's romantic life is under scrutiny at this hour of the night, especially a student who is not even here at the moment, but the others have class tomorrow morning."

"This is more important than classes," Amycus spats.

"I remind you this is still a school," Professor McGonagall says coldly.

Amycus' answer is cut by a bored voice. "What is this?" Snape walks, easily opening his way between the students gathered at the door.

"We are trying to interrogate the Weasley girl," Alecto says. "To find out the whereabouts of Potter. She was his girlfriend."

Snape rolls his eyes. "You heard the others. Potter was a lover-boy; that is not surprising considering how his father behaved with his fans." He regards Ginny coldly. "Weasley is not special. I doubted Potter ever shared anything more than a snog with her."

There's an underlying truth in his words that stung her, but before she can react, Snape is already addressing Professor McGonagall.

"Take your students to bed, Minerva. It would not be advisable to be out of the bed at this hour."

Professor McGonagall, who had been frowning at Snape as if trying to figure out something, bristles; there's nothing but repulse in her eyes as she nods.

"Of course, Severus." She turns to Ginny and the others. "Go to the Common Room, now."

And she casts a warning glance at Ginny, who runs to meddle between the other Gryffindor students climbing up the stairs. Her heart doesn't stop beating painfully until she enters the Common Room, and only then she looks back; the Carrows aren't in sight. She doubts this is the last time they will try to question her, but for now, she can breathe easily and give Neville a feeble smile when he looks at her.

"We will watch your back," he whispers.

"It will be fine," she says, with a confidence she doesn't feel. Nothing about her experience at Hogwarts so far gives her any faith that things will turn out well.

And then she catches a mop of black hair.

"Romilda," she calls. Romilda pauses on her way to the stairs.

"Yeah?"

Ginny waits until they are alone to whisper: "Thank you."

Romilda nods. There’s a moment of silence, during which Romilda eyes the stairs as if considering fleeing the scene before she asks: "Did he really break up with you?"

Ginny gulps. "Yeah."

"Oh, I thought—"

"No, it was true."

She waits for some remark; Romilda was truly determined to get Harry the year before, and she had pestered Ginny when she was dating Harry.

"He never actually flirted with me," Romilda says in a rushed whisper. "And you were special to him, I—I spent a lot of time watching him and trying to get his attention, but he never glanced at me... because he was too busy ogling at you."

Warmth spreads inside Ginny; she cannot help her smile. "Harry didn't ogle."

"Yes, all the time. He had it hard for you. Still has, I'd bet." Romilda smiles awkwardly. "Not very womanizer of him."

Ginny's eyes wide. "About that—if anyone finds out that you were exaggerating—"

"I'll talk to my friends. No one is going to say anything."

"I know. I trust you." They look at each other; it suddenly occurs to Ginny that Romilda has no idea, not really, of what could happen if anyone suspects her lie. Romilda never faced a Death Eater. Ginny hopes she never does. "It will be fine."

It's the same thing she told Neville before, but now there's a promise in her voice.

Romilda nods one last time. "Night, Ginny."

"Night, Romilda."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You finish hanging the clothes from the rack. You stir the fire so it burns a little better then stand back. You linger in its warmth. Now that you’re done, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Especially with him around. 

You bring your hands up to your chest and clasp them. You peek over at him. His eyes open as if he can sense you. You flinch and nod. 

“Will take a while to dry but I think I got everything,” you say. 

His gaze drifts to the rack. He narrows his eyes. You hope he doesn’t mind you touching his stuff. 

He raises a hand and gestures you to come closer. You try not to betray your hesitation as you cross the room. You stop right by the couch. 

“Do you want me to sit?” You point beside him. 

He doesn’t offer any response, not even a blink. You turn to sit and he catches your hips. He guides you before him and draws you back sit in his lap. You wiggle in surprise but let him draw you in. 

He hooks his arms around you and takes your hand in his. You’re rigid with tension. He feels along your knuckles and fingers, turning your palms up to trace the lines. You brace yourself as he rests his chin on your shoulder to watch his exploration of your hands. 

You curl your fingers to brush his rough skin and he winces. The veins in his hands bulge then he lays his hands flat, showing his palms as he rests his knuckles on your thighs. You gingerly trace the thick lines and find another scar along his wrist, jagged and thick. 

He drags a hand up your leg and wraps his arm around your middle. He moves you with him. You let him. He angles to recline across the couch with you over him. He shifts you to nestle you on your side, right against the cushions. He clings to your hand and brings it up to his chest. He lays it there, holding it firmly to his heartbeat. Your own is beating furiously. 

You rest your head on his shoulder and stare at the drying rack. The crackle of the fire underlines the silence, the winds whistling outside the windows, the night rising in shadows. Exhaustion descends on you and you slacken into him.  

You plummet into sleep. Your head thrums from the depths of you unsconscious and you forget all fears waking. There is only the black satin walls and the rippling glimmers of existence. 

You wake alone. Confused in the moment before your vision clears. The planks across the wall bring you back to reality. Your heart rents as the brief recollection of your former life dissolves. You always thought you wouldn't miss that old apartment once you were out but you could never imagine this. 

You sit up and listen to the cabin groan. You hear nothing but the natural creaking of the frame. You look over at the fireplace as it hazes lowly in a cluster of ember. 

The drying rack is gone and the clothes are folded neatly on the chair. Only the ones he brought you, not his. You stand and shuffle into the kitchen. Not there. Not in the bedroom or bathroom either. 

He's gone. 

You wonder if he went off with his shield and body armour. The thought makes you shiver. You return to the front room and add a log to the fire. 

Restless, you pace, in dread of what happens next. You don't know what will and that'd scarier than any inevitability. You walk in circles until your dizzy.  

When you still yourself, you're standing by the metal door. You stare at it. Then you touch it. It's thick and heavy. The reinforced barrier stands out starkly against the rustic and worn cabin walls. 

You grab the handle. It turns. Almost too easily. You pull. Jarred in surprise of how it opens without resistance. 

The blustering dregs of late autumn blow through you. You stare off into the dark trees. An open door but no where to go. 

You stay there until your burns ache with the cold. You're not brave or strong. You close the door and retreat into helplessness. Your head and stomach hurt. 

You go into the kitchen to fill the metal cup with filter water. You sit by the fire and sip. And wait. He had taken every decision away and in this you have as much choice. 

Wait and he'll be back. Wait and see what he does next. 

Time is hard guage within the soulless cabin. When the door opens, you’re as you have been. The fire is dead. You just didn’t bother adding more as the flames turned to cinder. 

His footsteps pound the floor in his neverending march through the world. There’s more weight added to the worn board. You sense him behind you. He moves around your perch on the floor. He rebuilds the fire and turns to you. 

You look up at him dully. He steps past you and comes back with a bag. A bright red reusable one. In this place, it’s a sliver of the outside world that feels so strange. He puts it before you and stands straight, hands on his hips. 

You sniff and bring yourself to sit on your heels. You lean to see inside the bag. You pull out the loaf of bread. Thick cut and whole wheat with seeds on the crust. You sift around and find a basket of veggies and fruit beneath the eggs and milk. You peer up at him. It’s hard to fathom the effort behind his haul. 

He bends and takes the bag. He leaves it in the kitchen and once more returns. He grabs another bag from behind the couch. You recognise the logo on it. Inside, a tea pot and matching cup and a variety of pack of loose leaf. It’s from your shop. 

Your lip trembles and you bite down. It’s a relic of what was. Even if there was escape, there’s no way back. 

You push the bag away and fall back on your ass. You bend your knees up and lay your head on crossed arms. Your tears leak out and wrack your body. He stands above you. You flinch and whimper as he touches your shoulder. 

You tear away and push yourself across the floor. You turn to look up at him, “why won’t you say something? Why? Why am I here? Why are you torturing me?” 

His brows rise and his cheek ticks. His lips curve downward and his eyes fall. He twists on his foot and walks away without a word. You sigh. 

“Fine, go. If you can’t tell me what the hell is going on, I don’t want you near me.” 

You turn your back to him and hunch again as another fit falls over you. All control is gone. Anger, fear, hurt, confusion. You can’t keep it inside any longer. And why should you? 

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 05

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: As her team searches for Mi-Rae, Y/N refuses to leave her husband's side. She starts reminiscing about the first time she met him.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Italics are flashbacks. pocket knife used to threaten someone. poor description of physical violence. Y/N is kind of a psychotic badass. Hints at how Y/N and Hongjoong were destined to meet. more of a fill in chapter. Flashback scene Hongjoong is 18 and Y/N is 17 thats why it hints at them still being in school.

-> Word Count: 2,183 - longest chapter so far, can't make any promises that the rest will be this long but I can try.

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

When Seonghwa and a staff member bringing food for Y/N walk into the room, they find Y/N slouched over the bed where an unconscious Hongjoong lies. Her head is resting gently on the bed, and one of her hands is holding onto her husband's as if she’s afraid to let go. While her team have been searching for Mi-Rae, she stayed remaining by her husband’s side, not once leaving him since he got out of surgery a week ago. 

“Just put the food on the table,” Seonghwa instructs the staff member, who nods and promptly follows the order before exiting the room.  

Seonghwa then takes a moment to take in the scene before him. The dim light casts gentle shadows across the room, highlighting the worry lines on Y/N's face. It’s clear that the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and yet, she remains strong and resilient, determined to shield her vulnerability from even those who know her best. 

With a soft sigh, Seonghwa picks up a spare blanket from the chair in the corner, its fabric soft and warm. He approaches Y/N carefully, not wanting to disturb her fragile peace. Gently, he drapes the blanket over her shoulders to keep her warm in the chilly makeshift hospital room.  

As the fabric brushes against her skin, she stirs, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a pair of tired eyes. For a moment, Y/N blinks in confusion, her mind still foggy from sleep. When her gaze finally focuses, she finds Seonghwa's concerned expression.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she says as she straightens herself from her slouched position. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, his tone laced with empathy. “You were finally getting some sleep.”  

"Have there been any updates?" she asks him, not wanting to talk about her lack of sleep or care for herself.  

"I'm afraid not," he regrets to inform her. "Wherever she is, she's managed to stay hidden. We're still checking potential locations and speaking to anyone who might have information about her whereabouts and anyone who could be hiding her." His words are steady, but she can hear the frustration and worry in his tone. 

Y/N feels her shoulders droop at his response, the burden of uncertainty weighing heavily on her like a thick mist. She turns her gaze back to Hongjoong, his stillness a stark reminder of the turmoil they’ve faced. Her heart aches at the sight of him, so vulnerable and not quite himself. Their time together is typically filled with joy and laughter, but right now, everything feels different. The days feel colder without the sound of his laughter and voice when he would randomly burst into song, the warmth of his embrace, how he could turn any mundane task into something enjoyable, and the sense of safety and love he brings her. 

She turns back to Seonghwa, a newfound determination etched on her face. "Tell the men to stop being so soft. I don’t fucking care if someone ends up losing an eye. Someone out there knows something."  

"I'll make sure to tell them that," he replies with a nod. "Now, there’s food on the table. Please eat something," he adds, sounding like a caring parent. "And try to get some more rest. Wooyoung or I will wake you if we find out anything." 

Before Y/N can say anything back, he leaves the room, leaving no room for argument. Glancing at the table, she sees the small square table covered with plates and bowls of untouched food. She knows she should eat, but the knot in her stomach makes it hard to even think about food. 

Choosing to eat later, she shifts her focus back to Hongjoong. Taking his hand in hers, she kisses the back of it gently. "I can’t do this without you, Joongie. You need to wake up," she whispers, her voice trembling as tears well up in her eyes once more. She squeezes his hand tighter, as if her grip alone could pull him out of his unconsciousness. "You’re the strongest person I know," she continues, her voice breaking. "You better come back to me." Dropping her head, the tears start to spill over as she fights to keep her composure.  

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asks, spinning his wedding ring around his finger, trying to distract herself from breaking down completely. Despite getting no answer, she continues, "I saved your ass from those little punks that were roughing you up in that side street. "

The moment she utters those words, she’s transported back to the day she first met Hongjoong.  

Y/N, clutching her bag straps, paid no attention to her surroundings as she kicked a pebble along the path leading to the bus stop, she needed to be at to catch the bus home. She was far from happy after her driver failed to show up to pick her up from school. But something soon caught her attention as she walked past a little side street that was mostly used for vans and trucks to drop things off. To the shops that backed onto it.  

Curious, she retraced her steps and turned into the alley, where she spotted five boys, likely around her age or a bit older in their school uniforms, beating up another boy who seemed to be her age as well. 

As she heard the boy let out a pained groan from a harsh kick to his side, she quickly pulled out the pocket knife she always carried for emergencies. 

“Yah!” she yells, drawing the bullies' attention to her as she approaches them. 

"I'd keep walking if I were you, princess," one of the bully's sneers at her. "This has nothing to do with you." 

“It has everything to do with me,” she shot back. "You’re hurting my friend," she declares, even though she has never met the boy they were attacking before. The words slipped out before she could think, but there is something about the way he was curled up on the ground, vulnerable and scared. It reminded her of the situation she’d been in a few years prior and that ignited a protectiveness for the boy. 

"Your friend?" one of the boys scoffed, stepping forward with a menacing grin. "I know for a fact that he has no friends. Why don’t you just run along before you get hurt too?" 

“Try me,” she says holding the knife out towards them.  

The boy who had just spoken started to advance when another boy held him back. “Hold on, I know her,” he said, drawing the attention of the group. “I think she’s Kim Dong-Yul’s niece.” 

“Yeah, so what?” the first boy scoffed, though his confidence wavered slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think we’re scared of some old man?” 

"You should be," the second boy spoke. 

A third boy speaks up, "I don't think it's him you have to worry about. She's a complete psycho. From what I've been told, she lit fire to another girl's hair because she stole her seat. " 

"Yah! She didn't steal my seat, she stole my Lipton Peach Iced Tea," Y/N shot back, clearly offended by their misunderstanding. “Now should I also set you all on fire,” she asks, reaching back into her pocket to pull out the lighter she had in there for no reason at all. Her other hand still holding the knife towards them, ready to be used if it came down to it. 

The boy hesitated, glancing at his friends, who were now shifting uncomfortably. She could see the wheels turning in their minds, until the first boy, clearly the leader of the group of them, spoke again, “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We were just messing around.” 

“Messing around?” she echoed, her grip tightening on the knife. “You call this messing around? You’re terrorizing someone who hasn’t done anything to you. You’re just a pathetic loser.” 

The third boy, who had mentioned the rumor, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly regretting his involvement. “Maybe we should just go,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “The last thing we need is Kim Dong-Yul on our asses. It isn’t worth it.”  

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Y/N shot back, her eyes narrowing. “And if you ever think about messing with someone again, just know that I can find out where you live, where your parents work and what your little sister likes to eat. You don’t want to know what I can do with that info.” 

“Let’s go,” the first boy finally says and turns to leave, the others following suit.  

“Assholes,” She mutters under her breath before turning her attention to the boy they were tormenting. He was now sitting up clutching his side. “Are you okay?” she asks, taking off her bag as she crouched down to his level.  

“Did you really set a girls hair on fire over a drink?” he asks, watching her unzip her backpack and pull out a small first aid kit. 

"No," she replied, shaking her head with a chuckle. As she opened the kit, she pulled out a cleaning swab to tend to the cut above his eye, which looked like the worst of his external injuries. "I mean, it wasn’t over a stolen drink. It was an accident," she added, tossing the bloody swabs aside and reaching for a band-aid. 

“That sounds like a pretty big accident.” he says, skepticism lacing his voice. 

“Let’s just say, accident or not accident, she never bothered me or the other girls afterwards,” she says, placing the band-aid over the cut. 

“I’m guessing you’re some sort of anti-hero,” He smirks slightly, his deep brown eyes onto hers with an intensity that makes her teenage heart skip a beat.  

For a moment, the world around them fades away. She can feel her cheeks flush, a warmth spreading through her. “Anti-hero? I don’t know about that,” she replies, a shy smile creeping onto her lips as she finishes securing the band-aid. “I just don’t like bullies, that’s all,” She glances down, suddenly aware of how close they are. The air between them crackles with an unexpected tension, a mix of adrenaline and something else she can’t quite place because she’s pretty sure she’s never felt it before. She clears her throat, trying to shake off the warmth rushing to her cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I go around purposefully setting their hair on fire.” 

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and inviting but winces when it causes him pain. She can’t help but feel a pang of concern for him.  

“Seriously, though, are you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she studies his face. The cut above his eye is small but deep, and she can see the remnants of a bruise beginning to form. She can only guess his ribs weren’t doing too well either. “You should probably go get checked out.”  

He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that doesn’t quite mask the pain in his eyes. “I’ve had worse.” He pauses, as he stands up with her help. “But I appreciate your help.”  

“Y/N,” she replies instinctively, her voice steady despite the concern swirling within her. 

“I promise, I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he assures her, as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he smiles, making her heart flutter once more before he limps away leaving her alone in the little side street. 

“Ugh, stupid heart,” she mutters, glancing down at her chest, but a smile tugs at her lips. She can’t shake the feeling that this encounter was more than just a chance meeting. Realizing she never got his name, she goes to catch up with him. As she reaches the main street, she looks both ways hoping to catch a glimpse of him but can’t find him anywhere.  

Little did she know at the time, she would be seeing him again only a few hours later. 

“I knew that us meeting in that side street wasn’t just a coincidence,” she says, lifting her gaze to Hongjoong, a small part of her hoping to see those brown eyes she loves so much looking back at her only to be disappointed when they weren’t. “You had me feeling things I’d never felt before,” she says, kissing the back of his hand again before resting it against her cheek. “I really can’t do this without you, Joong.” 

“Boss?” she hears from behind her.  

She straightens up once again, wiping the tears from her eyes. Standing up she turns around to face Wooyoung.  

"We have a lead," he tells her before she has to ask. "An informant told us Mi-Rae could be hiding out at the docks, trying to escape Korea. I had a few men ask around. She was spotted there by three people. One mentioned seeing her this morning." 

“Alright, flush her out and hold her until I get there,” she tells him. He nods and leaves the room. She turns back to Hongjoong and leans down, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back soon, my love.” 

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@jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @forever-atiny - @lixisoul99

[redroomreflections]

Sorry For Your Loss

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: What if WLWD met TLH but even more tragic?

Note: I was fighting my sleep to write this. Enjoy and don't hate me lol

Warning: Super angst, mention of drunk driving, major character death.

ONLY READ IF YOU LIKE PAIN

Note: I’m too excited for my flight in a couple of hours. I was itching to write when this came into my head. 

The house feels suffocatingly quiet, an eerie stillness settling over every room. The absence of laughter and playful shouts from the children creates a palpable void that echoes in Natasha’s heart. It’s too quiet. The walls, usually vibrant with the sounds of life, now seem to absorb the sorrow that hangs in the air like a heavy fog. The television flickers in the background, casting an unnatural glow across the room, but no one is watching. It’s just noise—an attempt to fill the silence with anything, but it fails miserably. The news anchors drone on, their voices muted by the weight of grief that envelops them.

The clock ticks ominously in the background, reminding everyone that the funeral is only an hour away. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers and the faint smell of coffee that no one seems interested in drinking. The cars would be arriving soon. Six children and a host of in-laws—how would they all fit into the designated family car?

Chase, your older brother, paces restlessly near the door, glancing toward the driveway. “Where’s Natasha? We need to get going,” he mutters, frustration seeping into his voice. No one has a real answer. They can feel the tension thickening around them, a shared anxiety that clings to the group like a shroud. Melina rises from her seat and walks toward the master bedroom, her hand poised to knock when Natasha emerges from the house's shadows. Her face is fresh and unreadable, an expression honed by years of practice in concealing emotions. The light from the doorway casts a soft glow around her, but her eyes betray nothing—no hint of the storm roiling within.

“Is everyone ready?” she asks, her voice steady yet distant.

Melina pauses, taken aback by Natasha’s calm demeanor. “We’ve been waiting for you. The car will be here any minute,” She replies, her tone softening. Natasha nods and walks past her, her steps silent against the hardwood floor.

"Where are the boys and Paige?" Natasha takes a headcount of the children in front of her. There are several but a few of hers are missing. She spots Cara cuddled into her Nana's side.

"They're upstairs," Peyton announces lowly. "They're refusing to come down."

"What do you mean they're refusing?" Natasha's eyebrow quirks.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Tasha," Yelena pipes up from her spot on the couch.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her sister and turns on her heels, climbing the stairs with determination. She ignores the pictures lining the walls. She doesn't bother looking at your photos. It hurts too much. The house feels cavernous and hauntingly silent, the absence of laughter amplifying the thud of her heart as she approaches the children's rooms. She can feel the tension coiling in her chest.

At the top of the stairs, she glances down the hallway, her mind racing with thoughts of what you would say in moments like this—words of encouragement, perhaps a reminder that it was okay to feel vulnerable. But today, she is the rock, and she cannot falter.

“Boys! Paige!” she calls out, her voice firm yet gentle. “You need to come downstairs. It’s time.” She waits, hoping for some sign of movement, a response that might break through the cloud of grief surrounding them.

Silence.

“Please!” she adds, softer this time, her heart aching for them. She thinks of how you would have approached this, with warmth and understanding, coaxing them out with stories or gentle humor. But those tools feel out of reach for her right now. The air in Paige’s room is thick. Natasha stands at the doorway, taking in the sight before her: Luke, just three years old, is perched on the edge of the bed, his tiny legs swinging rhythmically as he absentmindedly fidgets with his loose tie. Beside him, James, eight and usually so full of energy, sits slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the floor, his tie hanging loosely in his lap.

Paige sits in the center, the picture of a little girl trying to be brave. She wears a sleek black dress that flares slightly at the waist, her hair intricately styled in braids adorned with delicate black clips. But it’s the hot pink sneakers on her feet that draw Natasha’s gaze, a stark contrast to the somber attire they all wear. They were the last pair you had bought for her, a small gift meant to brighten her day, and now they feel like a painful reminder of the joy that has been snuffed out.

Natasha's heart aches at the sight, a wave of grief crashing over her. She wants to break down and cry, to let the tears flow freely, but she holds herself together, knowing she must be strong for her children. The weight of their loss presses heavily on her chest, and she feels a knot tightening in her throat.

"Hey, what's going on?" She kneels before them.

“We are not going,” Luke answers first, his tiny voice filled with defiance, his brows furrowing as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“No. We are staying,” Paige declares with an earnestness that stabs at Natasha's heart, her small body taut with determination.

James pulls at the collar of his button-up shirt, a look of sheer discomfort painted on his face. “I’m not wearing this,” he complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Why not?” Natasha asks, her voice cracking just a bit, betraying the emotion she’s trying so hard to suppress. “You all look so beautiful.”

James shakes his head vigorously, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t want to look beautiful,” he replies, his frustration spilling over. “I want to stay here!”

“We don’t want to say goodbye to Mommy,” Paige supplies, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and painful.

“No, no, no,” Luke utters his agreement, kicking his feet against the bed, each thump echoing his dissent. “I want Mommy to come home!”

Natasha feels the tears pricking at her eyes as their innocent cries pierce through her heart. “I know, I know,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “But this is how we show her we love her. By saying goodbye.”

"But why?" Luke asks, tears streaming down his face as he becomes increasingly upset.

Natasha sighs, her heart breaking for her young son. "Because that's what happens when we love people. Sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Remember where I told you Mommy is?"

Luke sniffles. "With the angels."

"That's right, baby. She's in a place with lots of love. But we still have to say goodbye." Natasha strokes his cheek softly.

"Will she be okay?" Paige looks at Natasha with wide eyes, her chin quivering as she struggles to keep her composure.

Natasha smiles weakly, her eyes misty. "Of course, she will. And we will too. Because she'll always be with us, right here," she places her hand on her heart, a gesture that was so you, and one they were familiar with.

"I already lost two Mommies now," Paige says solemnly. "It makes me sad."

Natasha takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "I know, my love, but your mom will never be gone. She's always going to be right here with us." She taps her chest again. "If you really don't want to go I won't force you. I will, um, I will see if we can get one of the neighbors to come and stop in. Whatever makes you happy. Where's Charlie?"

"She's already downstairs," Paige says quietly, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I, um, gosh. I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say right now." She admits.

"But you always know what to say?" James tilts his head. "Are you sad too?"

Natasha swallows, fighting back tears that threaten to spill. “I am,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly. “I would like to say goodbye to your mommy because it brings me closure. It gives me peace.” The words feel heavy on her tongue, laden with the weight of the reality they all face.

James looks thoughtful, his small brows knitting together. “Will it help you feel better?” he asks, searching her face for answers.

“I hope so,” Natasha says gently, placing her hand on his leg. “It’s important for us to honor her and remember all the good times we shared. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s also okay to remember the happy moments.”

“Like when she taught me how to ride my bike?” Luke pipes up, his voice brightening just a bit. “And we went so fast?”

“Exactly!” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with love for her children. “And all the times she read you stories before bed. Kissed your booboos. We can share those memories today.”

Paige perks up slightly at the mention of stories, a small flicker of interest sparking in her eyes. “She always made the best pancakes, too,” she adds, her voice softening.

Natasha nods, grateful for the direction of the conversation. “Yes! And how she would let you pick the toppings. Do you remember that one time she made a huge stack and put ice cream and strawberries on top?”

“Yeah!” Luke giggles, his laughter a small, bright note in the heavy atmosphere. “And then I spilled syrup all over my shirt!”

"Exactly," Natasha breathes. "She's the reason we have all these memories. It's not goodbye forever. I promise. And she will always watch over us. It will never be goodbye." She reassures. "Just a see you later."

Paige seems to think about it, her expression contemplative. She looks down at her pink sneakers and then back up at her mother, a question forming on her lips.

"Can we tell everyone a memory at the funeral?" she asks quietly, her voice wavering.

"Of course, you can," Natasha says. "Everyone will love to hear."

"Good. Because Mommy loved stories."

"She did."

"How about you go and find your sisters and I'll help your brothers finish getting dressed," Natasha suggests. "The car should be here soon."

"Okay, Mama," Paige slips off the bed and makes her way out the door.

Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly as she turns her attention to her sons. She does Luke first and he doesn't put up a fight. He's quiet the entire time. Her youngest is still processing the grief.

Natasha moves to James. "Hey, kid. Let's get you looking good for Mommy. Do you want your black shoes or not?"

"Can I wear the ones Mommy bought for me too?"

"Of course, baby."

"The spiderman ones?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go get them."

James runs off to the closet and Natasha turns her attention to Luke. "We're almost ready. How are you feeling?"

"Sad."

"I know."

“Mama, is Mommy sad?” Luke asks, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“What do you mean? Is she sad where she is?” Natasha asks, her voice gentle but steady, hoping to guide him through his thoughts.

He nods slowly. “She probably misses us so much. That’s what she always says when you go on vacation.”

Natasha feels a lump rise in her throat at his words, the reality of your absence cutting deep. “You’re right,” she replies, brushing a thumb over Luke’s cheek. “I know she misses you. She loved you so much, and I know she wishes she could be here right now.”

Luke looks down, the sadness etching deeper into his young features. “Will she come back?” he asks, his voice trembling.

Natasha swallows hard, knowing that this is one of those moments she wishes she could shield him from the harsh truth. “No, sweetheart. She won’t come back. But she’ll always be with us in our hearts, in our memories. And we can talk to her whenever we want. We just have to think of her and remember all the love she gave us.”

Luke furrows his brow, contemplating her words. “Like when I think about her making pancakes?”

“Exactly,” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with pride for her son’s understanding. “You can always remember those moments. They’re special.”

Just then, James returns, a pair of Spiderman shoes in hand. “Can I wear these?” he asks, excitement creeping back into his voice despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Of course, baby,” Natasha smiles, relieved to see a spark of joy return to his eyes. “Let’s get you looking sharp for Mommy.”

As she helps James with his shoes, Natasha reflects on the gravity of the day ahead.

"Mama, why do there have to be drunk drivers?"

"I don't know, buddy. I really don't." Natasha attempts to focus on getting his feet in his shoes.

"That's what killed Mommy."

"Yeah. It is."

"I don't understand."

"There's a lot in this world we will never understand."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, life is cruel. And unfair." Natasha begins. "Sometimes people make bad choices that they have to live with."

"What if they can't live with it?"

"Then they can't change it. No time machine can turn back the clock. All we can do is remember your Mommy for the kind, loving, warm, funny, and brilliant woman she was." Natasha says.

"And how much she loved us."

"Yeah. She really did. And she was proud of all of us."

"Did we make her happy?"

"Very," Natasha nods. "Now, are we all ready?"

"Yes," James takes a deep breath just like you practiced.

"Good," Natasha exhales. "Let's go then. We can't miss Mommy's funeral."

Luke is the first to grab her hand. He squeezes her fingers tightly, the small gesture conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. James joins in, holding onto her other hand as they descend the stairs together.

"I did Charlie's hair," Cara offers as they meet at the bottom of the stairs. "She was a little upset about it but I did it."

"Thank you," Natasha murmurs, squeezing her daughter's shoulder.

The doorbell rings, breaking the fragile calm.

"It's here," Melina announces, her voice thick with emotion. "Time to say goodbye."

As they gather by the front door, a heavy silence settles over the family, the enormity of the moment weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Natasha feels her heart racing, the tension coiling in her chest like a spring, ready to snap. She feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness settles in her chest. The warmth of Luke and James's small hands in hers provides some comfort, but it feels inadequate against the crushing weight of grief. Even with her family surrounding her, she feels more alone than she ever did when she was a spy or on the run, moments that, in hindsight, felt almost thrilling compared to this void.

The door swings open, and they step outside into the cool air. The family car awaits. Melina moves to help the younger ones, but Natasha remains still for a moment, staring into the distance as a rush of memories floods her mind—laughing with you in the kitchen, planning birthday parties, marking anniversaries that now feel like distant dreams.

Her heart aches at the thought of the anniversary circled in big red on the kitchen calendar, a day they had planned to celebrate together. Now, it serves as a painful reminder of the life that was supposed to be, a future now out of reach. The promise she made to you—to keep your family together—echoes in her mind, a vow she knows she must honor despite the challenges ahead.

“I can’t do this alone,” Natasha whispers to herself, though the words feel heavy and hollow. She hasn’t slept in her own bed since you passed; the sheets still smell like you, and the thought of facing that emptiness alone is unbearable. Her appetite has vanished, save for the muffin Cara brought her this morning—an attempt to nourish herself that felt almost futile.

“Are you okay, Mama?” Luke asks, his innocent concern snapping her back to the present.

Natasha forces a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just thinking about how much your Mommy loved all of you.”

James looks up at her, his face serious. “We can make her proud today, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha responds, her heart swelling for what felt like the millionth time today. “We will make her proud.”

As they approach the car, Natasha feels the weight of her family behind her, their collective grief palpable but also a source of strength. She knows she has to find a way to keep moving forward, not just for herself but for all six of the children depending on her.

mentioning that this is completely au and purely au and not real.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hiii I’ve never really requested before BUT I had a dream and I just needed more !!! so could you do fem idol reader and hyunjin are both Versace biggest ambassadors both of them extremely close with dontella and she and soo many fans calls them both lthe Versace prince and princess so they both announce there relationship at the Versace event and they model together please add or change whatever you want I just needed someone to hear this ❤️❤️❤️

I adore this. So here you go Sunshine I hope you enjoy <3

Hyunjin x Female!Reader

The atmosphere inside the lavish venue felt alive with glittering lights, the hum of excited conversation, and the scent of luxury that permeated the air. Every corner of the ballroom reflected opulence, from the velvet curtains embroidered with gold to the grand chandelier illuminating the faces of the most influential names in fashion. Tonight wasn’t just any fashion event—it was the event. Versace’s exclusive gala.

And it was the night that everything would change.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel suite, adjusting the final touches on your gown- a custom-made Versace piece crafted just for you. It was a masterpiece, designed with intricate lacework, sharp tailoring, and accents that hugged your frame like it was painted onto you. The colors shimmered, catching the soft lights in the room, making your skin glow as if the dress itself was made of moonlight. Your reflection smiled back at you. This wasn’t just any gown. It was a statement.

There was a knock on your door, followed by your manager’s voice. "You ready?"

You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing down your dress. “As I’ll ever be.”

As you stepped out into the hallway, the hum of anticipation vibrated in your chest. This night would be special. Not just because you were about to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest events of the year but because he would be there.

Hwang Hyunjin.

It was impossible to think of Versace without thinking of Hyunjin- just as it was impossible to think of Hyunjin without thinking of you. The two of you were like magnets, drawn together by fate and fashion. From the first time you met during a Versace campaign shoot, your chemistry was undeniable. Donatella Versace herself had coined the term "Versace Prince and Princess" after that fateful shoot, and the media had run with it.

But tonight, you would reveal a truth that had been bubbling beneath the surface for months. The Versace Prince and Princess were now more than just friends, more than just ambassadors of the brand. They were in love.

Donatella had noticed long before you had even figured your feelings out. It was in fact her who had pushed Hyunjin so hard to confess after she forced a slip up from you confirming your feelings about Hyunjin.

Not only was she was a fashion icon, but a matchmaking genius. She had so easily spotted the potential for you and Hyunjin in the fashion world and in the romantic world. And tonight, under the flash of cameras and beneath the eyes of the fashion world, you and Hyunjin would finally the relationship that had come to be.

When you arrived, the red carpet was buzzing with energy. You could hear the camera shutters clicking at a rapid pace as soon as you stepped out of the car, the soft fabric of your gown trailing behind you like waves. The flashes blinded you for a moment, but you’d grown used to it over the years. You posed gracefully, giving the photographers what they came for- sultry looks over your shoulder, that perfectly practiced smile, the occasional wink.

But your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for him.

And then, you saw him.

Hyunjin was standing at the other end of the carpet, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in a tailored Versace suit that looked like it had been made with him in mind. His long hair was styled effortlessly, giving him that ethereal yet dangerous look that had the fashion world obsessed. He turned, his eyes catching yours across the carpet, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. The world faded away, and it was just the two of you, connected by the same invisible thread that had always drawn you together.

He smiled, that small, knowing smile that made your heart flutter. With that soft look in his eyes that assured you he too wanted to spend the rest of his life together with you.

The two of you had planned this moment for weeks. The way you would walk down the carpet separately, letting the anticipation build, before meeting in the middle in front of the world's cameras. Hyunjin had always been a showman, and tonight, he wanted the world to see just how much he adored you.

As you took a step forward, your heart pounded in your chest. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as you walked towards him, your movements deliberate, graceful. Hyunjin mirrored your actions, his long strides bringing him closer to you.

When you finally met in the middle of the carpet, the world exploded into flashes. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, the media's eyes glued to the two of you, but none of it mattered. Hyunjin was all you could see. He reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours, and together.

You expected for him to turn to the cameras, maybe say something. But instead, he leaned in and brushed the most delicate and tender kiss you had ever experienced to your lips.

The reaction was instantaneous. The crowd roared with excitement, the photographers calling out your names, trying to get the perfect shot. You could hear faint whispers- “Are they...?” “Is this real?” -but you and Hyunjin remained calm, your hands clasped tightly together.

Then, Hyunjin turned towards the door, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ready?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with excitement.

Hyunjin turned back to the crowd, nodding and giving a slight wave as you two walked into the event.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, and you couldn’t help but smile. The cameras clicked furiously as you stood there, hand in hand with Hyunjin, the Versace Prince and Princess revealing their long-hidden secret.

You squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, glancing up at him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes soft with affection. This was your moment, and nothing could take it away from you.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was electric. Fashion icons, celebrities, and designers mingled, sipping champagne and marveling at the opulent displays of Versace’s latest collection. But all eyes were on you and Hyunjin.

Donatella Versace herself had insisted that the two of you model the final looks of the evening. It was a last-minute decision, but one that felt right. After all, you were Versace’s biggest ambassadors, and now, the world knew you were together. What better way to celebrate than by walking the runway together?

Backstage, you could feel the excitement buzzing through the air. Hyunjin stood next to you, his presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. He was calm, collected, as always, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You ready for this, princess?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You laughed softly, adjusting the gold crown that adorned your head- a perfect accessory for your final look. “I was born ready.”

The music started, a deep, pulsing beat that reverberated through the room. The lights dimmed, casting a golden glow over the runway, and one by one, the models began to walk. You could feel the energy building as the final looks were unveiled, each one more extravagant than the last.

And then it was your turn.

Hyunjin offered you his arm, and together, you stepped onto the runway, the crowd gasping as you appeared. You walked in perfect sync, your heads held high, exuding confidence and power. The cameras flashed, capturing every moment, every step, but all you could think about was Hyunjin next to you.

This was your kingdom. The two of you ruled the fashion world as the Versace Prince and Princess, and tonight, you were untouchable.

As you reached the end of the runway, Hyunjin turned to you, his hand slipping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

And as the crowd rose to their feet in applause, you knew that whatever came next, you and Hyunjin would face it together. Although it seemed like you already had the support.

Later that night, as the gala began to wind down and the guests mingled, you and Hyunjin found yourselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the venue, away from the cameras and the noise. The two of you sat side by side, your hands intertwined, enjoying the peace that came with the end of such a monumental evening. With his free hand Hyunjin played with your fingers, the flute of champagne he had long forgotten about as he was more focused on you.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” you murmured, resting your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We really told the whole world.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m glad we did. I was tired of pretending and hiding. Do you know how hard it is not to look at you for long periods of time? You're so pretty and I love you so much that if I looked at you any longer than two seconds the world would have guessed in -3 seconds.”

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him. “Your dramatic Jinnie...”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of the evening settling around you. There was so much that had changed tonight, but in a way, it felt like nothing had changed at all. You were still you. And Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. The only difference was that now, the world knew what you had known for a long time- that you were meant to be together.

Hyunjin’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I love you,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart full.

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the lights and the quiet hum of the after-party, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Hyunjin would face it together.

Your love was more than just a story for the cameras. It was real, it was true, and it was forever.

The Versace Prince and Princess- together, always.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark

[alvivaarts]

Internet Safety Tips for Folks Under 18! <3

I'm writing this because it was brought to my attention that at least one of my followers/readers is 11! Years! Old! How do I know this? Because they publicly announced it! AHH!!! OH NO!

This made me practically lose my mind, because holy shit, internet safety is NOT taught like it used to be!! Are there no more assemblies or class gatherings where you watch internet safety PSA videos anymore? Or learn about it in the library? Like shit!!! Anyway, here is, in the simplest terms, tips I learned when I was under 18 that have kept me not only alive, but thriving and happy on the internet.

What Information is Appropriate/Safe for Me to Share Online?

Very little! Very, VERY little! It would be easier if I told you what NOT to share online! DO NOT SHARE: -Your age/that you are a minor. -Your state, province, or country of origin. -When you are going to school/if you are starting school. -Establishments (restaurants, activity places, etc) that may or may not be in your local area. -Any medical diagnoses (mental or physical). -Any traumatic events or triggers. (We'll come back to this). -Any other details of your day-to-day schedule. -Details about your relationship with family members. -What you are/are not allowed to do. -Passwords or personal emails/phone numbers/contact points.

It's completely fine to share: -Your interests. -Fun anecdotes from your day. -Things you are excited about (not relating to your daily schedule). -What you're eating/drinking/making. -Etc.

I know it sounds cheesy, but you should make it your goal to be unidentifiable online. People do genuinely want to use this information, information about YOU for bad reasons. We already know that data brokers exist- and that there have been massive data leaks in the last few years regarding adults/18+ folks personal information. Those people usually have the agency and ability to reclaim some of that privacy and get their lives back on track. You don't. In addition to that, sharing little snippets of information about yourself from the 'do not share' category can build up over time. It might not feel like much at the time, but it can become pretty easy to identify you with even two or three of those pieces of information. We've seen no-profile having folks on TikTok be doxxed with less.

By that extent, I recommend minimizing the images you post of yourself online, especially if you cannot monitor/approve of who follows you. It can be equally as easy for strangers to figure out where you live based on images you share online, especially if those show your face and places your frequent. We can doubt that the GeoGeussr guy might not use his powers for evil, but plenty of other people absolutely can.

Who is Trustworthy Online?

Short Answer: NO ONE!

If someone you meet in a server says they're your age? No they're not! If someone says they want to be your friend and give you free things/games/etc? No they don't! If you think someone is safe enough to share something personal with online? No they're not! If someone randomly adds you for the purpose of making friends? They are not your friend! If someone says 'you're mature for your age'? No! You're! Not!

It's easy to form attachments to people online. It might be because everyone is 'anonymous' (which is also not true, no one is every truly anonymous online) that it's easier for you to imagine a stranger to be a certain way. Or you might look up to someone a lot because of the things they make or produce. These people, even if you get along with them or share interests with them, are not your friend- and will never be 100% trustworthy. (Of course, there are very rare acceptations- I don't want to be a hypocrite. Two of my very best friends are people I met online and have now met in person. When you become an adult and are able to more easily move around and escape situations -via transportation, access to your own money, not needing to rely on others/adults to assist you, then you can decide to proceed with relationships.)

Additionally, people online especially will never offer you something 'for free'. It will always have a cost- that might be your time, your personal information, or access to you via video or audio call or other personal things.

1- Never accept random phone, audio, or video calls on any social media platform. Do not accept random friend requests either. 2- It is absolutely okay to say 'no', to block people who you don't like or make you uncomfortable, even if those people get mad. Your safety comes before other people's happiness. 3- Never accept 'gifts' from online friends, especially if they are much older than you. 4- Do not click on random links sent by friends or shared on uncertified websites, especially download links. Even mod packs or pirated games can hide viruses, malware, or phishing links- things that can steal your personal information saved to your devices, or that can destroy your devices from the inside out. 5- If you feel uncomfortable or unsure of how to handle a situation, report and block the person involved, and/or contact a moderator, site-manager, or trusted IRL adult.

Online harassment and bullying is also quite scary. This can come in many forms: -People trying to steal information from you. -People shaming you for your appearance. -People shaming you for engaging in the things you enjoy. -People shaming, name calling, or ganging up on you to make fun of you. -Targeted crap-talking towards groups of people by other groups or individuals. -Being told to harm yourself, or that life would be better without you (not true!).

If this occurs to you, block and report the user/s. If you happen to know the person harassing and bullying yourself and others in real life, inform someone in real life as well. Make sure to take screen shots and save them! However, make sure you understand the difference between bullying and someone trying to correct bad behavior or help you. Both can feel very embarrassing at first, but most of the time, people trying to help improve online communities (and you!) will not be shameful, harassing, or bullying. It's okay to feel embarrassed for not understanding particular rules or community standards, but do not take that embarrassment out on others.

Managing Your Own Online Experience

This one might sting for some folks, especially adults who haven't learned it yet, but: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCE!

We're circling back to telling people online what your traumas and triggers are. Of course, a lot of things happen offline. It can be frustrating to come online as an escape and find something that triggers you or reawakens trauma, or even things that simply discomfort you. When it comes to things that traumatize or trigger you, block the source: Block people who cross your boundaries. Report those who break site guidelines (not people who do things you don't like- who break site guidelines). Block pages that might show things that frighten you. Do not visit websites that are known for certain traumatizing/inappropriate content. Turn on SafeSearch features. You don't even have to inform these people- do not engage, just disconnect. It's not cringe to want to optimize your online experience for your own safety, happiness and comfort!

When it comes to things that make you uncomfortable: Understand the difference between things that are traumatizing/triggering, and things that make your unhappy/uncomfortable/that you personally dislike. There is a difference. While you absolutely should have a safe and comfortable online experience, it is not appropriate or safe to approach people telling them to change X Y Z thing about what they post, discuss, or share. It's not appropriate to threaten, harass, or shame others for engaging in content that you might not like personally, or even engaging versions/aspects of that media in a way you might not yourself. The easiest way to avoid it? Don't engage with it. The instant you start to comment and complain, you're potentially outing yourself as a minor, AND telling the website algorithm that you want to see MORE of this thing you dislike, simply by engaging with it. It's a double whammy. Remember that, while your happiness and safety comes first, that does not come at the expense of other's wellbeing or enjoyment, unless that wellbeing or enjoyment is an active risk of physical or genuine harm to you that you cannot otherwise block yourself.

Finally, keep in mind that Adult Spaces/18+ spaces ARE NOT DESIGNED FOR YOU, WITH YOU IN MIND, OR FOR YOUR BENEFIT! It might feel and sound very exciting and even satisfying to get into an adult space unnoticed. However, these spaces are not meant for you- they often do NOT have all of the same safety tools as other 'public' online spaces. You are also putting yourself and the adults in the community at risk: Adults who may engage with you as an adult, because it's an adult-only space, without knowing you're a minor- as well as potentially engaging with adults who won't care whether or not you're a minor. Be especially mindful if an adult has a DNI specific to minors: that person DOES NOT want to engage with you. You wouldn't want your boundaries crossed, right? Don't cross theirs!

Some general rules to monitor your own online experience: 1- Block any potential sources of trauma/triggers. However, do not report them unless the subject matter genuinely breaks website rules (these differ DRASTICALLY depending on the site. Understand them before making any reports). 2- Live and Let Die (or Ship and Let Ship). Especially in fandom spaces. It's okay for you to have a particular take on a media, character, or ship. It is not okay for you to demean or diminish others for engaging in that media, character, or ship differently than you would. It isn't a competition about who's 'right'. Just enjoy yourself! 3- Turn on SafeSearch and Private Account settings. This minimizes potential triggers/uncomfortable subject matter, and allows you to monitor who engages with your account. 4- Do not actively pursue 18+ spaces. You don't have to stay 'in the kids zone', but don't try to insert yourself in a place where you cannot control what you might encounter.

----

I think that's about it! I'm sure there'll be other folks with plenty more to add, but these are the basics. Keep them in mind and try not to let yourself learn the hard way like I (and many others) did that The Internet as not as safe and fun as you might think it is. Of course, it is- but it's also full of unfun, or even dangerous things and people. Take care of yourself!

[screamingintothestarss]

wildflowers (part i)

pairing: fratboy!hunter x fem!reader

rating: 17+ (mature)

chapter warnings: starwars university!au, use of she/her pronouns, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, miscommunication (yay!), brief mentions of sexual activity, hurt no comfort???, swearing

word count: 1.6k

notes: the new bad batch comic coming out has me fiending so i finished this at work hauhauahahhuaha. part one of this little mini series thing i wanna do for bandana (this man is holding me hostage do not send help)

chapters: i ii iii

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

fratboy!Hunter who can't keep his eyes off you, the new girl, your pretty figure making its way through campus. 

fratboy!Hunter who's sitting with his brothers outside for lunch, forgoing his meal just to stare at you. Wrecker starts picking off of his plate as Crosshair gives him his signature smirk. Tech's nose is glued to his datapad, and Echo gives Hunter a look. 

fratboy!Hunter who's currently being scolded by Echo on the ethics of staring, and he starts to feel a little bad. He chalks it up as another crush–an ideal, something to keep his mind busy at night. 

fratboy!Hunter who finds himself still thinking about you while talking to other girls. Sure they were kind, smart, and stunning, but there was just something about you. A cute Twi'lek has his attention, her cerulean skin and violet eyes captivating, but he finds his mind swimming in the rosy waters of you; the slope of your nose, the planes of your cheeks, the way your lips curve up into a little smile when you pass each other in the walkway–fuck. 

fratboy!Hunter who now sits next to you in some calculus lecture since you'd switched your schedule around. He's nervous, that feeling buzzing around in his nerves all hot and angry. Did he smile okay? Was there anything in his teeth? Is he in your personal space? Did you prefer the left armrest or the right one? Was he sweating? Was he your type?

fratboy!Hunter who gets along with you in class, cracking jokes and telling you stories about his siblings that have you doubling over. He learns that you transferred from a different university, not caring for the atmosphere there. He offers to be your guide, showing you the best places to eat, study, or just hang out. You're grateful, thinking it'll help you feel like you're standing on two feet.

fratboy!Hunter who takes you to his favorite joint on campus, a deli tucked away from the main commotion. Hidden and most importantly quiet, you learn that Hunter isn't one for loud crowds for long periods, something about his senses. You're munching on fries; he'd insisted on paying for your meal despite your protests. You take a break from your plate to peer up at him, only to find that he's already staring at you. 

fratboy!Hunter who flushes, red bleeding onto tan skin and nerves set ablaze. You find yourself staring back, getting lost in dark eyes and even darker locs. His face reminds you of that one sculpture you saw in your art class, chiseled to smooth perfection. Maker, was he always this gorgeous? Shyness creeps up the back of your spine, and you shift in the booth.

"We should get to class-" 

"R-right..."

fratboy!Hunter who's paired with you for some pointless calculus project. His head is already filled with you, and he thinks if he adds any more integrals and derivatives to the mix, he might spill over. At least he's got a good partner. 

fratboy!Hunter who invites you over to his apartment to work on the project. You thought he'd stay in the fraternity dorms, but he explained that he preferred to be with all his siblings. It was nice, really nice actually. Not necessarily something out of Coruscant's Architectural Digest, but it's spacious and clearly lived in; it feels like home. 

fratboy!Hunter who grabs your arm as you nearly fall out of your chair from the booming voice beating down the door. 

fratboy!Hunter who introduces you to his brothers, and the one you now know as Wrecker gives him a not-so-subtle wink and nudge. 

"You really know how to choose 'em, don't ya?"

Hunter shoots him a lethal glare, and Wrecker laughs and sets a heavy hand on your shoulder, telling you that Hunter's a good guy.

fratboy!Hunter whose heart flips around in his ribs at the sight of you and his sister Omega getting acquainted. She takes to you so easily, and you're so gentle with her, entertaining her myriad of questions and stories with your full attention.

fratboy!Hunter who watches you get along with the rest of his brothers, even joining in for a movie night. You said that you didn't want to intrude, but he assured you your presence was more than wanted. 

fratboy!Hunter who drops you off at your dorm, a question prodding at his mouth. 

"Would you like to go-?" he stops, and the way you turn around and look at him knocks him square on his heels. 

Shit.

"Did…did you want to come over tomorrow to finish up the project?"

It's too soon, he figures.

fratboy!Hunter who waves back at a group of girls that giggle in return, subtly stealing looks at his figure. You try not to turn your nose up, a bitter feeling settling in your gut. Wrecker's words from yesterday settle in your skull, and you think they’re about to give you a headache. 

"You really know how to choose 'em, don't ya?"

Was that what you were? A number? Another notch on his bed frame?

Your mood falls, and Hunter quickly picks up on your discomfort.

"Hey, you okay?" 

"M'fine." It's short–curt. You'd never been that way with him before. He looks at you, and the realization hits.

"It's not like that, I promise-"

"It's fine Hunter, really."

You're being unfair, you think. He didn't owe you anything; he could do whatever the hell he wanted as far as you were concerned. So why does it make you so uncomfortable? 

You don't actually like him, do you?

fratboy!Hunter who explains to you over a bowl of ramen that he's not what you think he is, and you can tell he's being sincere, but that sour feeling tugs at you like a loose thread. 

fratboy!Hunter who's getting dangerously close to you on the dinner table, the notes from your project spread out over its surface. It's like you're pulling him in, and you feel it too, then you're both getting closer and closer and closer-

"Ahem."

Hunter jumps, and you let out a soft gasp at Tech's sudden intrusion. 

"Apologies, but it appears I have left my thermos on the table, and I have returned to retrieve it." 

Hunter groans, and you stifle a laugh.

fratboy!Hunter who's relieved you received an A on the project–many thanks to Tech–but deflates at the thought of not having you around as often. He fiddles around with his comlink, debating whether to ask you the question that's been picking at his lips for two weeks now.

fratboy!Hunter who decides on the safer, less terrifying option and invites you to one of his frat parties on campus. 

fratboy!Hunter who's standing in the mirror longer than usual, sweeping dark locs in ten different directions trying to figure out the one you’d like the most. He shrugs on a jacket–the one you complimented him on–and gets ready to head out. 

“You must really like her,” Omega calls out to him from the kitchen.

He laughs through his nose, “She’s just a-”

“If you say ‘friend’, I’m going to throw up”, she snarks.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“It’s Friday! Echo says I get an extra two hours.”

fratboy!Hunter who’s waiting for you to arrive over a pumping mass of bodies and thumping music, regretting not asking you out somewhere quieter, but he didn’t want it to feel too personal–too intimate…did he?

fratboy!Hunter who misses when you walk in, caught up in a conversation with another girl. She’s laughing at something he’s saying, a dainty pink hand on his arm. 

~~~

“So…” she sings, and it's sweet and tempting flowing through glossy lips. “You seeing anyone?”

He bristles, and it’s abnormal for him. Usually, it’d be a smooth “Only if you are, babe” or an “I could be”. It was non-committal, heavy and flirtatious; nothing of importance came out of it. Maybe a tangle in the sheets or two…or three.

“You okay?” she asks, pretty little head cocking to the side. 

“Ah–yeah, fine. I’m fine,” he laughs it off, but he’s unable to keep up that air of coolness when he’s yearning for your heat.

She’s staring at him, sparkling brown eyes meeting his own, and he realizes he hasn’t answered her question. 

“It’s uh, complicated,” he tells her, rubbing the back of his neck. He knows it’s bullshit, but he can’t put a name on what the both of you have, or if there’s even anything to put a name on. 

“How complicated?” she sings, and it's sultry–tempting, even. Normally he'd give in, turning melodies into moans. 

“Complicated…enough,” he tells her, and she gets the hint, giving him a wave as she falls back into the crowd.

fratboy!Hunter who’s unaware you’d seen enough, leaving just as fast as you came.

fratboy!Hunter who pauses, a flowery-sweet smell tickling his nose, the scent of you–or your perfume rather–and he makes his way for the door. He spots you walking alone on the sidewalk, all dolled up, heels click-clacking on the pavement. He's quickly making his way over to you, your gravity pulling him in.

"Hey–what's wrong?" He grabs onto your arm, its warmth riddling your skin with goosebumps.

You jerk away from him, and he starts putting the puzzle pieces together, finding where it all fits.

Oh.

"Nothing was going on with us, I wasn't-"

You widen your stride, trying to gain as much physical and emotional distance from him as possible. He doesn't owe you anything, he doesn't owe you anything-

"I told her I wasn't interested because-"

"Just leave me alone!" You're trying not to cry, but your mascara's already stained your top.

He catches up to you and gently slots his hand in yours.

"At least let me take you home," he pleads.

You break away, leaving a you-shaped hole in his heart.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

-

-

-

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 24th

I hadn't the heart to write last night; that terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him.... And yet that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him.... Poor fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of thought.... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane." There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity.... That fearful Count was coming to London.... If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions.... There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it.... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him.

Can we talk about how cool Mina is for a second? Her first reaction upon finding out is disbelief, of course, but she turns around so quickly so she can A. support Jonathan and B. potentially save the world. She knows her skills are valuable and she immediately puts them to good use. It’s not hard to see why Jonathan fell in love with her!

It also means that everything we’ve been reading so far is courtesy of her work, by the way. Which immediately prompts two thoughts:

She apparently wasn’t jealous at all upon reading the Three Weed-Smoking Girlfriends bit Jonathan was so worried about, otherwise she would have edited it out;

She had to transcribe Lucy’s journal and her own letters… She had to add the “unopened by her” mention herself…

Everybody say thank you Mina!

And now for the bit where I genuinely shed a tear:

I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask—to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles—that may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me.

I’ve said it before, but there are some similarities in the way Dracula and Van Helsing talk. Well, there are some in the way they write too!

You may remember this little bit from May 3rd:

"My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

Your friend,

DRACULA.

The letter opened and closed on a fake declaration of friendship, foreshadowing Jonathan’s imprisonment.

Van Helsing does something very similar here, but A. with desperate apologies and B. recognising his status as someone who is very much not Mina’s friend (yet?). So what does it mean?

It means he is breaking down

We saw him run himself ragged to save Lucy and fail. We’ve seen him fall from witty and pretentious banter (with Seward) to hysterical sobbing and laughing (also with Seward) in the span of a few weeks. We’ve seen him hide the truth while also giving out clues, we’ve seen him break down because he knows, and doesn’t want to burden anyone else with this knowledge, but realistically can’t bear the weight on his own.

So when he reads Mina’s letters — the ones Lucy never got to open — he has no choice but to reach out. Mina is not a doctor like Seward, she’s not a Strong Young Blood Donor like the suitors, she’s just a young woman who is also struggling and also loved Lucy, and this fifty-something genius finds a sense of kinship in her, and immediately decides she is the only person who can help him.

But that means she must know, and therefore be trapped in the same Hell he is. Hence the structure of the letter. I LOVE THIS BOOK

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hiii! Do you think Harry stopped growing at 17? If he was as tall as James in DH I would imagine he was taller than his father. I have three brothers and my family is full of male cousins and they all had growth spurts after 17. I could see him growing another couple of inches after the war. His mind and body is finally at peace after 16 years. I always hc him to be 6’0-6’2 at the age of 21.

As far as Harry being scrawny… aren’t most teenage boys? My brothers were into sports and didn’t get into the gym until they were done with high school. With the profession he’s in I would assume fitness would be a requirement for the role. Yeah, you have a wand but what if it breaks or you lose it? He has a huge target on his back having defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and I can’t imagine him not learning how to physically defend himself and his loved ones. I don’t see him a huge buff gym junky, but I do see him as someone who has a lean athletic figure and someone who concentrates more on leg day than arm day. I think going to the gym would be an escape for him and help him decompress. I know the hp world prefer a shorter skinny hero (probably because of Daniel Radcliffe) who looks like an underdog, however every underdog grows up and barely anyone has the same physique as their teenage self.

Honestly, all this differs a lot with genetics. Harry's growth spurts in the books reminds me of my younger brother. Like, my brother was like 5'2 at 15, then, in like, one month near his 16th birthday, he grew to 5'10 and when he was around 19 he grew again by two inches. So, Harry could definitely still grow taller, but we don't really have a way to know.

Like, men can still grow in height until their late 20s, and it's possible James didn't even finish his growth since he died at 21, so he might've grown even taller if he survived to 25. Like, that's possible. I just don't really have evidence for or against besides saying, yes, it's possible, but I wouldn't call it likely since it's highly individual and based on genes. Like, I know guys who stopped growing at 16 and have been stuck at the same height since then. I also know guys who are 25 and still grow taller. It's the magic of genetics.

Muscle mass, physique, and the ability to gain weight are also heavily dependent on genetics and age. Men in their teens and early 20s usually have a much higher metabolic rate, which keeps them lean regardless of how much they eat (again, genetics play a big role here and this isn't true for everyone). Physical activity like Quidditch, would make the already fast metabolism faster. This naturally fast metabolism, combined with certain genetic makeup, can leave you looking lean regardless of how much you go to the gym as well. Some men need to reach their mid-20s before they can actually start gaining the weight necessary to appear buff.

I think Harry would look less lean as he got older. Like, I can hardly imagine a Harry in his mid to late 30s being as lean as 16-year-old Harry. I think his physique will change as he grows, as happens to most people. But I agree with you I don't see him as a super buff gym dude at any point in his life. He's always on the leaner side in my head, but this is all in headcanon territory since it isn't covered by the books.

I would like to add that all the super short and scrawny descriptions of Harry come from the first 4 books when these descriptions are correct. In book 6 Harry is thin, but no one describes him as a scrawny boy with knobbly knees past book 4. Not even he himself. So I definitely see Harry of the final 3 books as more lean than scrawny.

And yeah, you're right about Radcliffe messing up everyone's mental image of Harry, both in looks and personality. It's one of the things that bother me most about the movies. And, everyone can headcanon whatever they want, but I personally don't like short Harry (when he's older, when he's 14, make him short). It's not his canon character and when writers write him short, it's sometimes accompanied by him being written as too passive and meek for my liking because Harry James Potter is not passive or meek. (Radcliffe Harry in the movies is much more passive, hence the skewed mental image I mentioned, but I digress).

Besides, while malnourishment and food intake could affect one's growth, people tend to overlook the 6 years of Hogwarts and Molly's food which would be a huge boost during his puberty years in which he's having most of his growth. Additionally, some people's food intake matters less to their physical development than others — again, I can't stress enough how specific genetic makeup is super important in all this discussion.

TL;DR

Harry might grow taller to be 6' or 6'2. We don't have any evidence for or against really, so it's up to your preference on what you want to headcanon. But it's definitely super possible. If Lily was taller than the average it would even be likley (but I couldn't find any notes on Lily's or Petunia's height). In the books, he is very lean, and it's a combination of a lot of different factors working together: his lifestyle, genetic makeup, and yes, being a teenage boy with the fast metabolism that comes with it. As Harry grows up, he'd probably want to stay fit, but to what degree is also in personal headcanon territory (I personally don't like him becoming an Auror, but that's my preferred headcanon. I still see him staying pretty fit out of paranoia, sort of. I mean, he spent all his teenage years with a Damocles sword over his head. He literally died. I think he's allowed to be a little hypervigilant after that. I mean, he already is, but you get the point).

[sagesparrow394]

Headcanons for if JRWI characters ended up on the QSMP

(Written by someone who’s only watched Wonderlust and up to episode 27 of Riptide) (I have also watched the first five episodes of the Suckening but I’m not included the suckers because that was a while ago and idk if my headcanons will be accurate)

So yeah the Riptide crew probably end up on Quesadilla Island because their ship crashes (rip the Albatross/Millennium Chipper)

Chip would learn Foolish is a builder and also rich and try to get close to him so he can convince Foolish to build him a new ship (bro thinks he can get off the island. lol. lmao.)

You cannot tell me Gillion and Etoiles would not be instant friends. These two are training and fighting together all the time, Gillion smiting those code monsters every chance he gets. As a result, I feel like Gillion would become very protective of Pomme, since she often trains with them too

I think Jay is probably the first of the three to properly question what’s going on on the island, and as a result probably the first to be shown the Order. I can see her getting along with Bagi

Don’t ask me how the Wonderlust crew gets there, idk, some weird magic portal stuff? Maybe???

You think Runt and Tubbo would be friends and bond over create mod? You fool. Runt would see his factories and run excitedly over, only for her face to fall in horror as soon as she steps inside and sees the mechanics. Tubbo would instantly have beef with this sixteen year old as soon she starts ranting about how his machines are not at all optimised and how she could do so much better. They are rivals

I think Blink and Phil would get along. We all know Blink is constantly Stressed, and ending up trapped on a weird island in the middle of nowhere would not help with that. I think Blink would find a sense of solace with the fellow birb man who just wants to chill and look after his kids and try to avoid Lore as much as he can. Like Gill with Pomme, Blink would develop a kind of bond with Chay and Lullah (perhaps they kind of remind him of a young Aeon and himself…)

I haven’t thought much about giving any of these guys eggs. However, I think Troy should get one. The Federation would see him and go “oh we need to give this privileged rich nepo-baby twunk real responsibility and see if he either learns to accept it, or if he fails and has to face being responsible for the death of a child”. Idk, I just think that’d be neat for his character development

Maybe I’ll add more sometime, maybe I’ll change my mind on things as I watch more Riptide and more Wonderlust comes out, who knows

[nottheletterkay]

Songbird

“I’m not special. Not like her.”

“You’re not,” he said quickly, definitively.

“You’re special like you.”

Chapter 1

“Mom, we’ve been over this.” 

You exhaled for what felt like the millionth time when, in reality, you’ve only been on the phone with your mother for maybe twenty minutes.

“I’m just saying, honey, New York? You’ve lived a lot of places— dreamed about living a lot of places, and New York has never been on either of those lists,” she continued. “And it’s so far away…”

You could hear the irritation in her voice, but, even moreso, the sadness.

You rubbed at your face and threw your head back in silent frustration before proceeding with as much empathy and understanding as you could muster.

“Look, Mom, I know it isn’t ideal, but this will be really good for Maevis. I’ve done the research, I’ve saved the money, I’ve almost packed everything up– alone, as a single mother, might I add,” you sprinkled in that last part for comedic relief.

Based on her silence, it didn't quite land.

“It’s what’s best for her,” you concluded gently.

You could practically hear the gears turning in her head over the phone.

“I’m not saying I don’t want the absolute best for my grandbaby, but, come on. She’s barely five years old! Can’t the fancy, expensive, oh-so-far-away-from-your-family boarding schools wait until she’s at least in the double digits?”

That made you giggle, but you stood your ground. “This will be good for her, I promise. You’ll see.”

Your mind began to wander as you packed the last box in you and your daughter’s small apartment.

The truth is, your mother wouldn’t see-- not the real ways this new school would really be helping her granddaughter, anyway. 

See, you hadn’t actually done any research, and this wasn’t costing you anything, thank goodness, at least as far as tuition is concerned. In fact, you hadn’t heard of this school at all before Charles Xavier had found you.

Before he’d found Maevis.

She was so young. 

She was so young and what you knew about mutants was so scarce.

At first, it was easy to dismiss the early signs. To rationalize the flickering lights during bedtime temper tantrums. To convince yourself that it was certainly within the realm of her physical capabilities to throw a sippy cup at that velocity and distance after you had denied her another cookie. That was the only explanation as to how it could have ended up all the way across the kitchen in tiny, plastic shards… 

Right?

It wasn’t until the last couple of months that you’d finally admitted to yourself that Maevis’ behavior was something different.

Something special.

The times between her outbursts were growing shorter, and the destruction that took place during, becoming more profound.

You scolding her in the car turned into blinking, dysfunctional traffic lights. Telling her she couldn’t buy a toy at the store resulted in entire product displays toppling over. There were only so many times you could apologize to the store clerks for “being clumsy.”

Then there were  the more peculiar things, the things you knew there were no logical explanation for– the times you could not only perceive Maevis’ emotions, but could physically feel them. 

When she’d fallen off of her bike and you hurried to scoop her scared, crying frame, you swore you’d felt that scrape on your knee, too.

Or when you caught her trying to hide the potted plant she’d accidentally knocked over and reached for you in apology, it was her shame that coursed through your body.

It wasn’t normal. None of it was.

And that didn't matter to you because what was “normal,” anyway?

Your daughter was special.

But, even so, you couldn’t deny the fact that whatever was happening with Maevis was intensifying, and quickly, and you couldn’t ignore the fact that she could hurt someone else or herself.

You had to do something, you just didn’t know what.

That’s why when Professor Charles Xavier showed up at your doorstep that day, with that gorgeous, regal woman you’d come to know as Dr. Jean Grey, you knew in your bones there was no other option.

You hadn’t explained any of this to your mother, of course. How could you when you didn’t even understand it yourself? You would wait until you and Maevis were settled, until there was some semblance of understanding and control and routine and—

“Fine.” You startled at the sound of your mother’s voice, her words cutting your trip down memory lane rather short.

“I trust you. I’m just going to miss my girls, that’s all.”

“We’re gonna miss you, too, Mom,” you assured her. You really did understand her concern.

“But you can visit as much as you like, you know. Phoenix and New York City have some pretty accessible airports,” you joke nervously.

“Just, like, when we’re all settled in and I’m comfortable in my new classroom and all that,” you add a little too quickly.

You really did want her to visit, just… maybe not anytime soon.

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“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mumble under your breath as you approach the ancient, but, admittedly, beautiful stone building.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

You giggled at the school’s name, propping your daughter a little higher on your hip. “Well, Maeve, you are a ‘youngster,’ that’s for sure.”

And she was.

In fact, according to Professor Xavier, she would the youngest student the school has had in… well, ever.

You recall your first conversation the two of you ever had.

You were in somewhat of a haze, trying to process all of the information the two strangers had just provided you with.

You had heard about mutants, of course, anyone with a television or ears had. But you’d never considered that you’d given birth to one.

At least, not until now.

 “I- I really appreciate what you’re trying to do here, Professor Xavier, but I-” you started, but honestly didn’t know where the sentence was going to end.

“Charles,” he corrected warmly. You tried your best to appear polite and collected as you continued to respond.

“Right, yes. Charles.” It sounded a bit strange addressing him so informally, especially after only having known him for, what? Maybe an hour?

“Again, I really appreciate this— Maevis and I both do, and I know shecould use the guidance, I just… I mean, do you even have a kindergarten at this school of yours?”

You understood how important it was for your daughter to receive guidance on her mutation; it wasn’t something you or any other neurotypical facility could offer her.

But the teacher in you– the mother in you–  couldn’t help but wonder about her academic and social development. She needed to be around kids her age, learning the same things they were.

Mutation or not, that was important, too, right?

“Of course it’s important, dear.”

You startled at the sound of Professor Xavier’s voice.

You didn’t say that out loud, did you?

With furrowed eyebrows, you started, “I’m sorry, did I-”

He only chuckled at your confusion. “No, you didn’t say that out loud. Reading the minds of others is one of my mutations,” the Professor explained, except you were watching his face the entire time and his mouth didn’t move a muscle.

Your eyebrows shot up in– what? Disbelief? Offense?

“I do apologize,” he started.

All you could do was blink at the man decidedly not talking to you.

“I try not to make a habit of reading the thoughts of those around me without their consent.”

You nodded skeptically as he continued and added half-heartedly, “and what about talking inside of their heads? Do you make a habit out of that?”

He found your sense of humor in what he considered to be a very heavy, very tricky situation, endearing.

“I do not,” he chuckled and continued, actually speaking this time. “But you’re right. Her academic and social development are just as important as refining her gift. And although she is the youngest student the academy will have ever enrolled, I can promise you we have the means to provide the resources that any child of her age could possibly require.”

He seemed so sure, so confident in this proposition.

You wish you could say the same about yourself.

He slowly inched closer to you before speaking again. 

“I understand your apprehension, but, surely, we can’t send her off to school down the street where she’ll be telekinetically tossing toys off of shelves in the classroom, or forcing her emotions onto every peer she so much as disagrees with on the playground,” Charles waved his hands in slight amusement.

You chewed your lip anxiously as you considered this.

You knew he was right.

But he said she was the youngest mutant to ever be offered enrollment at his school– the youngest mutant he, or anyone, has ever heard of manifesting their powers so early, period. If there weren’t any kids her own age at school, would she ever be able to be around normal kids her own age without risking hurting them?

Without risking hurting herself? 

Your heart sank at the true fear that had been festering deep within you since Maevis’ very first display of power.

Would she ever feel normal if you did this?

Would she ever feel normal at all?

You could feel your heart racing at the thought of all of this going painfully south.

“She will be able to be around kids her own age,” the Professor said, once again, snapping you out of your anxious spiraling.

“Think of this as…” he looked around the room, trying to come up with the words to convince you, “ a specialized homeschooling program. Dr. Grey and Ms. Munroe will teach her everything she needs to know, including that of a typical kindergarten academic curriculum, and as soon as she’s ready, we’ll make sure she is able to join her peers out there.” He motioned to the window displaying the outside of your apartment building as he said this, but his words implied a space much vaster.

You churned in consideration, but didn’t speak just yet.

“It’s what is safest for everyone. It’s what is safest for Maevis,” Professor Xavier emphasized.

You continued to bite your lip, glancing behind Professor Xavier at Dr. Grey, who only sat quietly with a look of never-ending patience upon her face.

Her demeanor is what finally had you nodding in agreement.

“Plus," the Professor added, "you’ll be at the academy, teaching just a few halls down. You’ll be there every step of the way.”

He’s right. This is what’s safest for everyone. For Maevis.

It’s what’s best for Maevis.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Both Professor Xavier and Dr. Grey smiled, and the genuine relief and joy you saw in their faces sort of made your chest ache. 

“This is what’s best for Maevis,” you repeated in your head.

“But,” you added, gaining the shocked attention of your guests, “ if we do this, please, ‘try not to read my mind without my consent’ anymore,” you quipped, only half joking. 

The Professor chuckled at that.

“Of course, dear.”

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“Oh, it is so good to see you again!” Dr. Grey said earnestly, squeezing your shoulder in a way that made you feel slightly more at ease.

She turned to Maevis.

“And it’s good to see you again, too, you gorgeous girl.”

She clung to you rather tightly, but she still greeted Dr. Grey warmly, reaching for her face.

You panicked suddenly, not wanting Jean to be overwhelmed with whatever rollercoaster of emotions Maevis might be feeling right now.

It wasn’t a constant transfer of energy, but it was a powerful one.

“Oh, no, sweetie, remember, we can’t touch people’s bodies without asking them,” you gently remind her. She retracted her hand sadly, but you reassured her.

“It’s okay, Maev. But remember boundaries? We just have to be careful,” you tell her softly, nudging your nose gently against hers.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, almost ashamedly. “I’m sorry.”

Dr. Grey was watching the entire interaction affectionately. “That’s okay, Maevis,” she said. “Your mother is right,” she continued, looking between the two of you. “It is important to remember people’s boundaries, especially your own. You should always ask before you enter someone’s personal space.”

Maevis only nodded shyly in agreement.

“But,” Dr. Grey  added, “if it’s okay with you, and your mother, I would like for you to tell me hello again– the way you were going to.”

Both Dr. Grey  and Maevis were looking to you for approval now. “Oh. I mean…” You were nervous and you couldn’t pinpoint why. This is what you were here for– what Maevis was here for, right?

“I mean, of course,” you said. “As long as you’re comfortable with it, Maev,” you looked at her, waiting.

Maevis looked between the two of you before speaking. “I’m comfortable,” she said, reaching for Dr. Grey’s face again. “I can show you my feelings.”

You smiled. Something about her referring to this part of her mutation as “showing her feelings” always felt so innocent. So delicate. Like there was no part of this that was dangerous or unmanageable.

Of course, that wasn’t reality.

As soon as Maevis’ hand touched Dr. Grey’s face, it was like she was somewhere else– lost in her mind.

Or, rather, Maevis’ mind.

A small smile spread across her face as she gripped the tiny hand that was touching her cheek a little tighter.

Finally, Maevis retracted.

“Incredible,” Dr. Grey said, breathless. “You are a very special person, Maevis.”

Your daughter only smiled and nuzzled into your neck.

“She is,” you agreed, smiling.

“And we here at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters are thrilled to, not only have her as a pupil, but to have her remarkable mother teaching at the institute as well.”

You turned around to follow Dr. Grey’s gaze, not surprised to see Professor Xavier gliding across the large foyer to greet you. 

You smiled, “Hello, Professor. Say hello, Maevis,” you say, waving your hand in example.

“Hi, Charles,” you daughter smiled and did the same. Professor Xavier returned the gesture before adding, “At least one of you remembered to call me Charles,” he said.

You both chuckled at that before he continued.

“We are so happy you’re here with us, dear,” he said with that same genuineness he had at your first meeting.

Before you could respond, assuring him that you were just as happy to be here, he continued.

“There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

You almost didn’t notice the two people next to him, which was shocking, considering one of them was the most breathtaking woman– all dark skin, crystal eyes, and hair white as snow, and the other is probably the largest man you’ve ever seen in person.

“What a hot couple,” you think to yourself.

The gorgeous woman extends her hand, an unsurprisingly perfect smile aimed directly at you.

“Hey, there. I’m Ororo Munroe, but the kids like to call me Storm. I’ll be Maevis’ primary educator during her time here at the academy.”

You shake her hand and introduce yourself before she turns her attention to the little girl in your arms.

“And you must be the lady of the hour, “ Ms. Munroe says to Maevis brightly. “I am so happy to meet you, sweetie. I’ll be your new teacher.”

Maevis is anything but reserved, so she takes to her almost immediately.

You wondered if it’s her extroverted nature that makes all of this go smoothly, or if there’s some unspoken tether that mutants feel between one another. 

That would make sense, especially in an evolutionary regard. It could be why Maevis has been so inexplicably drawn to Dr. Grey since meeting her.

You try to ignore the unexpected twinge you feel in your stomach at that thought.

You’re pulled out of this strange line of thinking at the sound of the tree trunk of a man now speaking. 

“I’m Logan.”

He doesn’t extend a hand.

In fact, he doesn’t make a move to do or say anything more, and you kind of just stand there expectantly.

You figured, if he’s as friendly as everyone else you’ve met so far, he might throw in a, “nice to meet you”?

A school title?

A cool, somewhat unnecessary superhero nickname?

As if reading your mind, he adds, “Logan’s fine.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in realization.

“Wait, can you read minds, too?” you ask.

Storm, Charles, and Jean all laugh, but Logan only half-smiles. 

“No, he’s just a smartass,” Ms. Munroe chides, then immediately covers her mouth, eyes darting between you and Maevis.

“I am so sorry. Oh my gosh, little ears! I haven’t been around a child this young in… well, like, ever. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes go even wider somehow and she smacks herself in the forehead.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I truly didn’t even realize I cursed this much,” she all but screams, then turns to her friends. “How come none of you told me I had such a potty mouth?!”

You’re full on giggling now as you reach with your free had to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay! Seriously, it’s okay. I don’t always have the most restraint around her, either, and I’m her mother. Unfortunately, she has heard worse,” you laugh and feel relieved when the Professor, Dr. Grey, and Ms. Munroe all laugh alongside you and don’t give you that stuffy, judgey look that most people do when you accidentally (or not so accidentally) curse around your daughter.

You all chat for a few more minutes, everyone’s excitement becoming more apparent. 

Well, almost everyone. 

Logan seemed uninterested, to say the least. This didn’t necessarily bother you, though; you understood that not everyone is experienced with or comfortable around children. You weren’t going to fault him for that if that were the case. 

It just confused you more than anything. 

Ms. Munroe would be leading Maev’s academics, Dr. Grey would be her mentoring her in her mutation, Professor Xavier had sought the two of you out and was acting Dean of the school— everyone had their purpose, so it seemed.

So what was Logan’s?

“I’m here to help you get settled in.”

You blinked in surprise.

How did he do that?

“You’re really not reading my mind?” you ask, skeptically.

He almost laughed at that.

“Doesn’t take a telepath to recognize a confused stare,” he replied.

He voice was gruff, but his tone was light.

That didn’t stop your face from heating up with embarrassment, though.

Were you really staring?

“Logan teaches history in the classroom adjacent to yours,” Professor Xavier added. 

“A perfect fit, considering he was alive for most of it,” Dr. Grey prodded, nudging Logan slightly in the ribs.

He scoffed while everyone else chuckled and looked down at her with a soft smile.

The way she was gazing up at him made you think maybe he and Ms. Munroe were, in fact, not the hot couple in this equation.

“Your and Maevis’ new living quarters are also located in the same wing of the mansion as his. I figured it was most logical for him to help you get adjusted, “ Charles finished.

“That, and his welcoming personality,” Ms. Munroe added, faux excitement absolutely dripping with sarcasm, clapping Logan on the shoulder in jest.

You smiled, admiring the relationship between the four of them, affectionate and comfortable.

Even Logan in his own reserved, somewhat brooding way.

Although their histories, both individual and relational, were unclear to you, they were a family, you could see that.

Anyone could.

Dr. Grey suddenly made a surprised sound.

“Oh, shoot!” she said, collecting herself. “I have session with a student in less than five minutes— I should get going.”

You mouthed a wordless, “oh,” in understanding, adjusting Maevis to rest on your other hip.

Goodness, she’s getting so big.

Turning to the two of you, she continues, “Again, we are so happy to have you. All of this is just such a gift,” she says with that sincere tone that makes you want to burst into tears.

She murmurs her goodbye to the others, walking away, lightly squeezing Logan’s abnormally large bicep on the way.

“Professor, we should really get going, too if we’re going to make it to New Student Orientation on time, “ says Ms. Munroe.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Xavier agrees, repositioning his chair. “Well, dear, I hope you enjoy getting acquainted with the mansion. And please let me know if you or Maevis need anything at all.”

He turns to look at Logan, the two of them locking eyes momentarily as if having a fleeting, silent conversation of their own. 

Which, you now realize, is totally possible.

As the Professor fades into the distance of the ever-growing hallway, you feel a stiff, awkward tension begin to form between you and Logan.

He isn’t nearly as welcoming or chatty as the others, and you know yourself. If you sit in this uncomfortable silence for too long, you’re going to start rambling and its going to be painful for everyone.

“I can show you your room,” Logan interrupts your self-deprecating line of thinking, grabbing the suitcase at your side and starting off without so much as a word to you or Maev.

You pucker your lips in submission.

“Cool. Right behind you,” you mutter a little sarcastically.

Maevis giggles and mimics you a little louder: “Cool! Right behind you!”

You can’t help but laugh with her as you follow Logan down the long hall, up the winding stairs, and into your new life.

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This is my first marvel fanfiction! It's definitely going to be a series, I just don't know how long yet. Ahh, hope you like it so far.