#If I have doubts it's usually about the quality

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

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WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

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Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[novaursa]

To Win a Princess (her choice)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: to refuse a dragon

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You sit across from your father, King Viserys, in his private chambers. His face, softened by age and weariness, holds a patient, gentle expression as he watches you, sensing the weight of what you’re about to say. There’s a calmness in his eyes, a father’s warmth, and it gives you the courage you need to speak the truth you’ve held close for so long.

Taking a steady breath, you look down, gathering your thoughts, and then back up to meet his gaze. “Father,” you begin, your voice soft but determined, “you’ve asked me to make my choice… to choose from the suitors that have come forward. And I’m ready to tell you now.”

Viserys nods, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped in his lap as he regards you with that quiet, encouraging presence. “I am glad, my dear. I know the decision has not been easy.” He offers a faint smile. “But tell me—who has earned your heart?”

You take another deep breath, and there’s no doubt or hesitation as you say his name. “It’s Tyland, Father. Tyland Lannister.”

A moment of silence stretches between you, and you watch as Viserys’s expression shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly with a mixture of surprise and reflection. He doesn’t look shocked, but rather as though he’s piecing together a puzzle whose outline he had already started to see.

“Tyland,” he repeats, his voice quiet but thoughtful. “I cannot say I am entirely surprised, not after… the last small council meeting.” His gaze flickers with a hint of memory, and he raises an eyebrow, a touch of amusement mingling with his curiosity. “He defended you with quite the passion, more so than I would have expected from a man of his usual reserve.”

You smile softly. “Yes, he did. He has always treated me with respect and loyalty, even in private. It’s… something I’ve come to value deeply.”

Viserys studies you, his expression turning thoughtful as he considers your words. “Loyalty and respect… those are rare qualities, especially within the court.” He leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrests. “But I must admit, I am surprised by one thing.”

You tilt your head slightly, sensing the curiosity in his tone. “What is it, Father?”

He sighs, shaking his head slightly as he meets your gaze. “For all his affection, Tyland never once put forth a formal petition for your hand. In all these months, with every other lord clamoring for your favor, he remained silent.” His brow furrows, clearly puzzled. “It is unusual for a man of his position—especially a Lannister—not to make his intentions known formally.”

You feel a faint warmth rise to your cheeks, understanding Tyland’s choice but realizing how it might look in your father’s eyes. “He held back out of respect, Father. Tyland knew that the other suitors would be offended if he made his petition too soon. He didn’t want to create more tension at court. And… he wanted me to choose freely, without feeling pressured by a formal offer.”

Viserys’s gaze softens, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he watches you. “So, it seems Tyland is not only loyal but considerate. He is a man who understands the delicate balance of this court.” He pauses, a slight twinkle in his eye as he adds, “And he clearly cares deeply for you, if he was willing to risk waiting… in silence.”

You nod, your heart swelling with the truth of his words. “He does, Father. He has been willing to risk everything for me—even his own reputation. And he’s given me the freedom to choose, no matter what.”

Viserys sighs, looking both proud and slightly wistful as he regards you, his gaze filled with the kind of love only a father could feel. “Then it seems you have found someone truly worthy of your heart.” He leans forward, reaching out to place a gentle hand on yours. “If Tyland is your choice, then I will support it. And I will give my blessing.”

Relief floods through you, and you squeeze his hand gratefully. “Thank you, Father. I know Tyland may not be what everyone expected, but I believe he is… what I need.”

Viserys chuckles softly, nodding. “The court may have its expectations, but as King, it is my duty to ensure your happiness above all else. And as your father… I cannot help but be glad that you’ve chosen a man who values you so dearly.”

You smile, feeling a sense of peace settle over you as you sit there, hand in hand with your father, knowing that your choice is not only accepted but understood. Viserys’s eyes hold a warmth and pride that only deepens your gratitude.

“Speak with Tyland,” he says, his tone gentle yet resolute. “Let him know that he has my blessing—and my thanks for caring for you as he has.”

You nod, your heart brimming with joy as you rise from your seat, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “I will, Father. And thank you, for everything.”

Viserys watches you, his expression one of quiet pride as you leave the room, his presence a steady, comforting strength behind you. And as you walk through the corridors of the Red Keep, a newfound sense of purpose fills you, knowing that soon, you and Tyland will no longer need to hide in the shadows.

The small council chamber is filled with the usual murmur of conversation as Tyland takes his seat, his expression composed yet carrying a glint of quiet amusement in his eyes. Just that morning, you had come to him privately, bearing news that filled his heart with a fierce, unshakable joy. He can still feel the warmth of your touch, the lingering taste of your kiss, the sense of shared elation at the promise you would soon no longer need to hide.

Across the table, Otto Hightower sits with an air of confidence, his expression one of expectation. Tyland notes the faintest trace of a smile on Otto’s lips, as though the Hand is all but certain that this meeting will secure a victory he’s been maneuvering toward for months. After all, Otto had long been pushing for Gwayne to wed you, and by the look in his eyes, he believes this day will mark the moment that goal is achieved.

Around the table, Lord Jasper Wylde, Grand Maester Mellos, and Lord Beesbury sit with calm attentiveness, unaware of the news about to unfold. Tyland watches with a concealed smirk, relishing the thought of the surprise that’s about to reverberate through the council chamber.

At the head of the table, Viserys enters, his expression warm yet firm as he takes his seat, his gaze briefly meeting Tyland’s with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Once everyone is settled, Viserys begins, his voice steady as he addresses the council.

“Thank you all for gathering on such short notice. Today’s meeting is… a rather personal matter, one I wished to share with those closest to me and to this court.”

The room falls silent, and Tyland notices Otto straightening slightly, a flicker of anticipation crossing his face as he waits for the King to speak further.

“As you know,” Viserys continues, his voice carrying a touch of warmth, “for some time now, many have come forward with petitions regarding the hand of my youngest daughter, Y/N. She has been of marriageable age, and as is customary, the offers were numerous.”

Otto’s smile deepens, his eyes flicking briefly to Tyland, clearly believing he is on the verge of securing his family’s alliance. Tyland keeps his own expression neutral, waiting.

“But,” Viserys continues, and there’s a subtle shift in his tone, a father’s pride glimmering in his eyes, “I believe a woman’s choice in such matters is of utmost importance. And I am pleased to announce that my daughter has made her choice.”

A murmur ripples through the room, Otto’s expression sharpening, his gaze fixed on the King with an intensity that betrays his certainty. He almost seems to hold his breath, fully expecting to hear Gwayne’s name spoken next.

Viserys glances around the room, his gaze lingering on each council member before finally resting on Tyland, his voice calm but firm. “She has chosen none other than Lord Tyland Lannister.”

A stunned silence descends over the council as every pair of eyes turns to Tyland. The amusement he’s barely held in check now flickers in his gaze, though he maintains his composed exterior, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Otto’s face shifts from smug anticipation to disbelief, his jaw tightening as he struggles to keep his composure. “Your Grace…” he begins, his voice carrying a note of barely concealed frustration, “are you certain this is… advisable? Given the importance of House alliances?”

Viserys meets Otto’s gaze with a calm but unyielding expression. “It is precisely because of the importance of alliances that I have accepted my daughter’s choice, Lord Otto. And I believe Tyland has proven his loyalty to both House Targaryen and the realm.”

Tyland watches Otto with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, relishing the subtle yet unmistakable defeat in Otto’s expression. Grand Maester Mellos clears his throat, casting a glance between Viserys and Tyland.

“Lord Tyland… this is indeed unexpected,” Mellos remarks, his tone a mixture of surprise and cautious approval. “But I trust that your intentions are honorable?”

Tyland inclines his head, his voice steady and respectful. “I assure you, Grand Maester, my intentions toward Princess Y/N have always been of the highest respect and devotion. I am deeply honored to have her hand.”

Jasper Wylde, who has been watching with an open-mouthed grin, chuckles softly, clearly entertained by the unfolding spectacle. “Well, I daresay this council has been shaken today! Congratulations, Lord Tyland. A true prize indeed.”

Lord Beesbury, who seems a bit slower to catch up, simply blinks, finally nodding in agreement, though he still appears somewhat dazed. “Yes… yes, indeed. Most unexpected, but, well… the King’s choice is the only choice that matters.”

Otto, however, is less than amused, his expression tightening further. “Your Grace,” he says, his tone respectful yet strained, “are we to understand that this decision is final?”

Viserys leans back, giving Otto a firm look that leaves no room for further argument. “It is final, Otto. And I trust you will give it the same respect you would give any choice made by the Crown.”

Otto nods, though his lips press into a thin line. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies… it was not my intent to question your wisdom.”

Viserys nods, his gaze softening slightly as he turns back to Tyland. “Lord Tyland, you have my gratitude for honoring my daughter’s heart with patience and respect. I am certain you will make a fine addition to our family.”

Tyland bows his head, a flicker of warmth and pride in his voice as he replies, “Thank you, Your Grace. It is an honor I do not take lightly.”

As the meeting begins to wrap up, Tyland allows himself a brief, sidelong glance at Otto, whose frustration is palpable even beneath his carefully composed expression. Tyland meets his gaze with a polite, measured look, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he enjoys this quiet victory.

And as he rises from his seat, Tyland feels a sense of certainty settle within him. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows that he now has the blessing of the Crown—and, most importantly, the love of the woman who has chosen him.

As Tyland steps out of the small council chamber, a sense of relief and satisfaction fills him, his mind still replaying the moments of Viserys’s announcement. He has long awaited this day, and now, the weight of secrecy has finally been lifted. Just as he’s about to continue down the corridor, Lord Jasper Wylde steps forward, catching him with a broad grin and a hearty clap on the shoulder.

“Tyland! My sincerest congratulations once more,” Jasper says, his voice carrying a note of genuine warmth. He shakes his head with a laugh. “I must say, this explains quite a lot—particularly Daemon’s behavior toward you. I should have suspected something sooner.”

Tyland chuckles, inclining his head with a look of polite amusement. “Thank you, Lord Jasper. Daemon’s… sentiments have indeed been made quite clear.” He allows himself a small smirk. “Though I can hardly blame him for being unsettled by things beyond his control.”

Jasper nods, letting out another chuckle. “Indeed. With Daemon, if it’s not under his command, it’s practically an insult to his pride.” He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful as he regards Tyland. “But truly, Tyland, it’s no small feat to gain the favor of both the princess and the King himself. You’ve earned this match, even if it comes with the scorn of certain… interested parties.”

Tyland meets Jasper’s gaze, his expression calm but carrying a hint of the satisfaction he feels. “I am grateful for the King’s support—and even more so for the trust of the princess.” He glances back toward the council chamber, his voice lowering slightly. “As for those with… differing expectations, I’m prepared to handle them as needed.”

Jasper raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, if anyone can keep their head in a lair of dragons, it’s a Lannister. You’re well-suited to it, Tyland.”

But before Tyland can respond, Otto Hightower approaches, his expression unreadable but carrying a cool, unmistakable tension in his gaze. He inclines his head toward them both, though his attention is clearly directed at Tyland.

“Lord Tyland,” Otto says, his tone cordial but with an edge of restraint. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose.”

Tyland inclines his head respectfully, meeting Otto’s gaze with a polite smile. “Thank you, Lord Otto. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Otto’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral. “It was a… surprising development, to say the least. I had assumed, like many, that the princess’s hand would be given with the aim of solidifying the Crown’s alliances. It seems, however, that the King’s priorities have… shifted.”

Jasper, watching the exchange with interest, raises an eyebrow but remains silent, his gaze flicking between the two men. Tyland, however, holds Otto’s gaze evenly, his voice calm.

“His Grace made his decision based on what he believed would bring his daughter happiness,” Tyland replies smoothly. “I can only express my gratitude that he found me worthy of her choice.”

Otto’s lips press into a thin line, and he nods, though there’s a faint shadow of disappointment in his eyes. “Worthy, perhaps. Though one must wonder… the strategic benefits of such a match are not as clear as they might have been. The princess is a key to uniting loyalties—a role that, in different hands, might have been more… impactful.”

Tyland’s gaze sharpens, his smile never faltering. “With all due respect, Lord Otto, I would argue that the loyalty of the Crown’s own blood is a strategic advantage in itself. There are bonds that go beyond mere political alignment.”

Otto’s jaw tightens slightly, and for a brief moment, the mask slips, revealing a hint of his frustration. He recovers quickly, inclining his head once more. “Of course, of course. And, as always, I defer to the King’s judgment.”

Jasper, sensing the tension, decides to break the silence with a chuckle. “Well, I, for one, find it refreshing to see a match made for something other than sheer politics.” He claps Tyland on the shoulder once more. “Love isn’t such a dreadful thing to bring into a marriage, wouldn’t you say?”

Otto’s gaze flickers toward Jasper, a faint, strained smile appearing on his face. “A charming notion, Lord Wylde. But love, as we all know, is seldom enough to hold the weight of a throne.”

Tyland’s smile remains, though there’s an unmistakable edge of confidence in his voice as he replies, “Perhaps not, Lord Otto. But it is a foundation that endures—and it is something upon which loyalty and respect are built.”

Otto’s eyes flash, though he merely nods, his tone curt. “Then let us hope, Lord Tyland, that this foundation serves the realm as well as it serves the princess.”

With that, he offers a final nod to them both and strides away, his back straight, his expression schooled back into its usual stoic calm. Jasper watches him go, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turns back to Tyland.

“Well, that was a pleasure to watch,” Jasper mutters, shaking his head. “Otto’s plans have finally been thwarted. I imagine he’s furious inside, though he hides it well.”

Tyland chuckles, his gaze steady as he watches Otto’s retreating form. “He’ll recover,” he says lightly. “Lord Otto is not one to dwell on losses for long. I’m certain he’s already calculating his next move.”

Jasper grins, giving Tyland an approving look. “Perhaps. But you’ve managed to outmaneuver him this time, and that is no small accomplishment. Tyland Lannister, son-in-law to the King. I daresay you’ve done quite well for yourself.”

Tyland smiles, though there’s a glint of quiet resolve in his gaze. “It’s not just for myself, Jasper. I would have done this a thousand times over… for her.”

Jasper chuckles, clapping him on the shoulder one last time. “A romantic, then. Perhaps you’ll bring some charm into that stone heart of yours after all.”

Tyland shakes his head, allowing himself a rare, soft smile as he turns toward the corridors that will take him to you. And as he walks, a sense of fulfillment settles within him, knowing that, for once, he has bested those who would seek to control your future. Now, the path is yours together.

You stroll beside Rhaenyra through the corridors of the Red Keep, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The news of your betrothal has lifted a weight off your shoulders, and even now, you can feel the faint smile that’s settled onto your lips, unable to fully disappear. Rhaenyra notices and gives you a knowing look, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“You look positively radiant, sister,” she teases, nudging you playfully with her shoulder. “One would think you were already a bride.”

You laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I suppose it does feel that way,” you admit, glancing down as a faint blush colors your cheeks. “It’s as if the entire court has been holding its breath for this, and now… now I can finally breathe.”

Rhaenyra nods, her expression softening. “I’m glad you could make your own choice. Father was wise to let you decide.” She pauses, her tone turning more playful. “Though I do imagine some lords are less than pleased with the outcome.”

Just as the two of you round a corner, deep in conversation, a familiar figure appears, his cane clicking softly against the stone floor as he walks. Larys Strong, his expression as unreadable as ever, gives a slight bow as you approach. He straightens, his gaze flickering between you and Rhaenyra, a polite smile playing on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Princess,” he greets Rhaenyra with a respectful nod, before turning his attention to you. “And my heartfelt congratulations to you, my lady. News of your betrothal has reached every corner of the Keep.”

You incline your head, polite but wary, feeling the subtle weight in his words. “Thank you, Lord Larys. I appreciate your kind wishes.”

He gives a slight, calculated smile, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. “The court has been… abuzz with excitement, though one might wonder if this union will satisfy everyone’s expectations. The Lannisters are certainly fortunate.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpens as she watches him, sensing the faint edge to his words, but you maintain your composure, refusing to let Larys’s veiled remarks dampen your spirits. “Fortune often favors those who have earned it, Lord Larys,” you reply smoothly, matching his smile. “And I believe my family values happiness as much as any political gain.”

Larys chuckles, inclining his head as though acknowledging your point. “Indeed, my lady. I trust your union will bring the prosperity you seek, in whatever form that may take.” His eyes linger on you a moment longer, his gaze shadowed by something that feels almost like warning. “After all, peace is a fragile thing, as we all know.”

Rhaenyra steps closer, her chin lifted in subtle defiance. “We’re all aware of how delicate peace can be, Lord Larys. But my sister has made her choice, and I think it’s safe to say she’s content with it.”

Larys inclines his head once more, giving another polite smile. “As you say, Princess. My best to you both.” And with that, he moves away, his cane clicking steadily as he disappears around the corner, leaving a faint chill in the air behind him.

Rhaenyra watches him go, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He’s always full of riddles and subtle threats, isn’t he?”

You roll your eyes, letting out a quiet laugh. “It’s as if he speaks in codes, never saying what he truly means. But I won’t let him ruin my day.”

Rhaenyra grins, linking her arm with yours as the two of you continue down the corridor. “Good. It’s about time we enjoy something without the endless intrigue weighing us down.” She gives you a teasing look. “Although I do imagine Gwayne will be brooding for a full moon over your decision. He looked utterly crestfallen in the hall earlier.”

You laugh, unable to resist the grin that spreads across your face. “Poor Gwayne. He’s certainly persistent, but I doubt he expected me to choose Tyland.”

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Persistent, yes. But now that you’ve chosen another, he may be more sulky than ever. Perhaps he’ll write a tragic poem or two in your honor, filled with laments and sighs.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I’ll expect to hear him sighing in every corridor, then. But perhaps he’ll recover soon enough.”

Rhaenyra squeezes your arm, her smile softening as she looks at you. “You made the right choice, sister. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise, least of all men like Larys or Gwayne.”

You nod, feeling a sense of warmth and reassurance settle within you. “I won’t. Tyland is the one I chose, and nothing will change that.”

With Rhaenyra at your side, the shadows of courtly intrigue seem to fade, and together, you continue through the Red Keep, the echo of laughter trailing behind you. In this moment, with your sister’s unwavering support, you feel ready to face whatever lies ahead.

It was the late afternoon as Daemon entered unannounced to King's private chambers, his expression dark and his stride purposeful. Viserys looks up from a scroll, raising an eyebrow as his younger brother strides forward with that unmistakable air of barely-contained frustration.

“Daemon,” Viserys says calmly, setting the scroll aside. “To what do I owe this… unexpected visit?”

Daemon doesn’t bother with formalities. He crosses the room in a few swift steps, his voice low and simmering with barely controlled anger. “This marriage, Viserys. Y/N’s choice. A Lannister?” He almost spits the word, his expression twisted in disdain. “And you approved it?”

Viserys’s gaze hardens, though he keeps his tone measured. “Yes, I did. It was her choice, Daemon, and I believe it was a wise one.”

Daemon scoffs, pacing the length of the room, his hands clenched at his sides. “A wise choice?” He glances over his shoulder at his brother, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “Since when have we been in the habit of granting Lannisters such… favor?”

Viserys sighs, folding his hands calmly as he watches his brother. “Since it became a strategic advantage, Daemon,” he replies, his tone firm. “You may not approve, but House Lannister is one of the wealthiest and most powerful in the realm. An alliance with them strengthens our position—financially and politically.”

Daemon’s eyes flash with frustration, and he stops, turning to face Viserys fully. “Is that truly the reason, brother?” he asks, his voice laced with bitterness. “Or are you simply letting her indulge in whatever fleeting infatuation has taken hold of her?”

Viserys’s expression cools, a faint edge creeping into his voice. “This is not a mere infatuation. Y/N has chosen someone who values her, who respects her, and who understands the significance of our House. Tyland Lannister is a thoughtful man, a loyal man. And from what I’ve seen, he has her best interests at heart.”

Daemon’s jaw clenches, his gaze hardening as he takes a step closer. “Her best interests,” he mutters, almost as if to himself. “And what of my interests, Viserys? Do you think I wanted to see her cast her lot with a man who hides in the shadows, who lacks the fire to even stake a claim openly?”

Viserys’s eyes narrow, catching the underlying bitterness in Daemon’s words. “This is not about you, Daemon,” he says firmly. “You had your chance to make your intentions known. But she chose Tyland—and I support her decision.”

Daemon laughs, a hollow, bitter sound that fills the room. “Of course you support her. You’ve always coddled her, always let her get away with anything she pleases. And now, when she makes a decision that undermines our alliances—”

“Enough, Daemon,” Viserys interrupts, his tone sharp. He rises from his seat, meeting Daemon’s glare with unwavering authority. “Y/N is a Targaryen. Her loyalty to this family is unquestionable, and I will not allow you to insult her or her choice.”

Daemon’s mouth tightens, and for a moment, he appears to be holding back a storm of words. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and edged with something close to resentment. “You believe a Lannister can ever be loyal to anyone other than himself? They’ll sell their loyalty to the highest bidder the moment it suits them.”

Viserys shakes his head, his gaze steady. “Tyland has shown nothing but respect, both to Y/N and to this family. He has been patient, cautious even, waiting for her choice without ever pressing her hand. That is loyalty, Daemon. And it’s something you would do well to respect.”

Daemon scoffs, his frustration evident as he looks away, his gaze distant. “She deserved better than a Lannister. She deserved someone who would fight for her, who would claim her without hesitation.” His voice softens, a flicker of something almost vulnerable crossing his face. “Not… hide behind a curtain, waiting for her to come to him.”

Viserys regards him quietly, understanding dawning in his eyes as he takes in his brother’s words. “This isn’t just about her choice, is it, Daemon?” His voice softens, though there’s a note of sadness in it. “You wanted her for yourself.”

Daemon’s jaw clenches, his gaze hardening as he meets Viserys’s eyes. “She was… she is wasted on him, Viserys. And you, of all people, should see that.”

Viserys sighs, crossing his arms as he regards Daemon with a mixture of sympathy and firmness. “Daemon, you cannot force love, nor can you force someone’s loyalty. Y/N chose Tyland because she saw something in him that you, perhaps, could never offer her—a steady heart, a quiet loyalty, and a respect that allows her to be herself.”

Daemon bristles, his face twisting with frustration as he turns away. “I would have protected her better than he ever could. I would have given her a life worthy of her blood, her lineage.”

“Daemon,” Viserys says quietly, taking a step closer, “sometimes love is not about fire and blood. It’s about finding someone who brings peace, who stands with you even when the world turns against you.”

Daemon glares at him, the defiance in his eyes tempered by a flicker of something like hurt. “And you believe he can give her that?”

Viserys nods, his tone unwavering. “Yes, I do. And I trust my daughter’s judgment as well. She has chosen her path, and it is one I am proud to support.”

Daemon stands silent for a long moment, the tension hanging thick in the air. Finally, he lets out a bitter laugh, his expression hardening as he looks away. “Then so be it. But don’t come to me when this alliance you’ve blessed brings ruin.”

Without another word, he turns on his heel, striding out of the room, leaving Viserys standing alone, a faint sadness in the King’s gaze as he watches his brother go, knowing the storm that has only just begun to brew.

You continue your stroll beside Rhaenyra, sharing easy laughter and quiet conversation. The weight that had lingered over you for so long seems to have lifted, replaced by a calm anticipation for the future with Tyland—a future no longer hidden in shadows. But as you turn a corner, the sound of approaching footsteps brings your laughter to a halt.

Queen Alicent stands before you, her expression carefully composed, though there’s a hint of stiffness in her posture. At her side, Ser Criston Cole regards you both with a polite nod, though his gaze holds a sharper, more assessing quality as it rests on you.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent begins, giving her a brief nod before her gaze shifts to you. “Princess Y/N. It seems congratulations are in order for your… recent engagement.”

You incline your head, keeping your expression polite but guarded. “Thank you, Queen Alicent. I appreciate your well wishes.”

Alicent’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and there’s an edge to her tone as she continues, “I must admit, it was… unexpected. I had thought you might consider other suitors, ones perhaps closer to your family in both blood and allegiance.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpens, and she steps slightly closer to you, a subtle show of support as she addresses Alicent. “My sister’s choice was her own, and Father respected that. I would think that would be enough.”

Alicent’s expression remains carefully neutral, though her tone holds a hint of pointedness. “Of course. But as her family, it’s only natural to wish for her happiness and stability. It’s just that there were… other, suitable options.” Her eyes flick briefly to Ser Criston, who stands quietly beside her, his gaze steady as he listens.

You nod, holding her gaze calmly. “I chose Tyland because he understands and respects me, Your Grace. And I believe that is the foundation of a strong and lasting union.”

Alicent’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly, but she manages to keep her tone light. “I am certain he does, Princess. But I had hoped you might consider a match with someone who… well, someone with whom our families already share a bond.” She pauses, her gaze lingering on you with that same edge of expectation. “My brother, Gwayne, was most sincere in his intentions, after all.”

You feel the weight of her words, but your voice remains steady. “Ser Gwayne is an honorable man, and I am grateful for his attention. But my heart made its choice.”

At your side, Rhaenyra’s hand brushes against yours, her presence a comforting reassurance. “As is her right, stepmother,” she says pointedly, a faint smile of amusement playing on her lips. “Surely, the Crown should support such a decision wholeheartedly.”

Alicent’s gaze flickers to Rhaenyra, a momentary tension tightening her expression before she lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning resigned. “Of course, Princess. I am only… concerned for the family’s stability. That is my only aim.”

Beside her, Ser Criston watches the exchange quietly, but as Alicent shifts slightly, you catch the subtle, assessing glint in his eyes. His gaze lingers on you, and suddenly, it feels as if he’s fitting pieces of a puzzle together in his mind. The memory of that night resurfaces—a knock on Tyland’s door in the dead of night, Criston’s voice on the other side, seeking you out on Alicent’s orders. You see the faint realization flicker across his face, as if he’s just now connecting that night with your newly announced engagement.

Clearing her throat, Alicent gives you a final nod, her voice softening to something closer to genuine, if still stiffly formal. “Well, I do wish you all the happiness, Y/N. I hope your union with Lord Tyland brings you both what you seek.”

You incline your head respectfully. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Alicent offers a thin-lipped smile before turning to Criston, gesturing for him to follow. He nods, casting you one last thoughtful glance before following her down the corridor. Their footsteps echo as they disappear around the corner, leaving you alone once more with Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra lets out a small huff of laughter, shaking her head in amusement. “She certainly has a way with… subtle disappointment, doesn’t she?”

You smile, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I imagine she won’t forgive me for refusing her brother anytime soon.”

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, linking her arm with yours as she nudges you forward. “Well, let her sulk.”

You laugh softly, matching her stride as you continue down the corridor.

The Great Hall is bustling with activity, a throng of courtiers and nobles filling the space with excited murmurs and polite exchanges as Tyland steps into the midst of it. Since the announcement of his engagement to the youngest Targaryen princess, he’s found himself at the center of courtly attention, every noble seemingly eager to offer their congratulations and curry favor with House Lannister. The gleam of opportunism is unmistakable in their eyes, and Tyland’s lips quirk with faint amusement as he listens to their overly enthusiastic praises.

“Lord Tyland,” one noble greets him with a deep bow, his voice filled with thinly veiled admiration. “It is an honor to witness this union—House Lannister and House Targaryen together. May it bring strength to the realm, as I am sure it will.”

Tyland inclines his head, a polite smile in place as he accepts the noble’s words. “Thank you, my lord. I am honored by His Grace’s approval and look forward to strengthening our Houses in service to the realm.”

Around him, a few more lords and ladies voice their congratulations, each phrase tinged with the hint of a request, a favor waiting to be asked. Tyland manages each exchange with practiced ease, his demeanor calm and courteous as he acknowledges their words without committing to anything concrete. In the back of his mind, he knows that the real strength of this union lies in his commitment to you and what you share.

As he turns from one group, he catches sight of Ser Criston Cole lingering nearby, his dark eyes observing him with an expression Tyland can only describe as calculated. Cole steps forward, inclining his head in what could almost pass for respect, though there’s a subtle intensity in his gaze.

“Lord Tyland,” Cole begins smoothly, his voice low, ensuring that their conversation remains private. “It seems congratulations are in order.”

Tyland regards him with a cool, measured look, nodding once. “Thank you, Ser Criston. Your kind wishes are appreciated.”

Criston’s lips quirk in what could almost be called a smile, though there’s a glint of something sharper in his eyes. “It must be a relief, finally, to have the King’s approval. I imagine you and the princess are… most relieved.”

Tyland raises an eyebrow, sensing the subtle starin in Cole’s tone. “Relieved, yes. And honored to have His Grace’s blessing.”

Criston nods, though his gaze doesn’t soften. Instead, he leans in just a fraction, his voice dropping even lower, the edge in his words unmistakable. “Yet, one might wonder, Lord Tyland, if the swiftness of this approval was, perhaps… necessary. After all, there are whispers, as you might imagine. Whispers that could easily turn into doubts. It would be most unfortunate if other lords questioned the princess’s virtue—if they were to assume it was… compromised, let us say, prior to the announcement.”

Tyland���s smile fades, his gaze turning steely as he watches Cole. “Are you suggesting that her honor, and therefore mine, might be… scrutinized by others?”

Cole’s eyes narrow slightly, his tone smooth but laced with threat. “I’m merely observing the nature of court, Lord Tyland. Rumors grow like weeds, especially in matters of virtue. It would be a pity if your engagement were overshadowed by such… implications.”

Tyland steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, his tone edged with an unmistakable threat. “Then perhaps, Ser Criston, it would be wise to ensure that such weeds are not planted in the first place. Those who spread lies about the princess may find themselves facing consequences they could not anticipate.”

Criston’s gaze hardens, though he holds his ground, meeting Tyland’s eyes with equal resolve. “There is no lie in caution, my lord. Only in assumption.”

Tyland’s lips curve into a faint smile, though it carries no warmth. “Then I trust you’ll make sure your caution remains… reasonable. If I were to hear of any rumor about the princess—any suggestion that would imply a loss of virtue—I’d be inclined to find the source personally.” He pauses, his voice a quiet threat. “And as I’m sure you know, Lannisters never forget those who undermine their family.”

Criston’s jaw tightens as he considers Tyland’s words. Finally, he gives a curt nod, his voice carefully restrained. “As you wish, Lord Tyland. I will remember your… concerns.”

With that, Cole steps back, casting one last cold glance at Tyland before turning away to rejoin Alicent’s side. Tyland watches him go, his expression unflinching, his resolve only strengthened. For all the subtle threats and pressures of the court, he would not let anyone, least of all Ser Criston Cole, tarnish the honor of what he shared with you.

As the last of the courtiers drift away, Tyland straightens, the faintest trace of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. Whatever else may come, he has made it clear: no one would question your honor without facing the full wrath of House Lannister.

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part seven (chapter 19-21) previous part • next part

word count: 5.3k

content warnings: none!

Lily

"You can stay here for as long as you like. You know that right?" My best friend Emma says to me as we're sat side by side on her rooftop.

Going back to my parents felt like too much so I came to Emma's instead.

I'm clutching my knees close to my chest with my chin rested on them, "Thanks Em, I missed you." I say turning to look at her.

"I missed you, too. It's great to see you, I just wish the circumstances were better. I thought Connecticut was treating you good." She says sadly. I didn't tell Emma exactly what happened, just that I needed a break from college.

"Oh it is. Things have been really good." I think back to my first few months at UConn and can't help but smile but that smile quickly fades when I remember why I'm back in my home town. "I- I had an argument with Paige." I say truthfully.

"What? What did you argue about? Must have been bad for you to come running back here." Emma half laughs, looking out in front of her where our neighbourhood expanded out, eventually blending into the night's sky.

"Her ex showed up to her birthday party and kinda made a scene in front of everyone, begging for Paiges forgiveness. Paige just laughed her off though so I tried not to other think it."

"Right..." Emma says urging me to continue.

"Then she acted really weird with me the next day and basically asked me to leave her place and then like half an hour later I get a voicenote from her, saying this," I open up my phone and have to scroll past Paiges endless messages asking where I am, if I'm OK, telling me that she loves me and she's sorry before I get to the voicenote and press play.

I grimace at the words as Paiges voice plays out.

"Hold up. Replay that." Emma says clearly shocked at what she heard.

"Do I have to?" I frown, not wanting to hear the messaged I'd played hundreds of times already, again.

"No, sorry. I heard it loud and clear. I'm just shocked. I'm guessing that was a mistake?" I nod. "What did she have to say for herself?"

I relay everything to Emma, exactly the way it happened, not missing a single thing.

"Lily, I love you and I agree that Paige should have been honest from the beginning but I don't think this means she loves you any less or wants to get back with her ex. I think it just means she was a little bit stupid and probably panicked." My best friend rationalises.

"I know, but I panicked too. Paige is an amazing person with so many great qualities, I already feel like I'm not enough for her."

"OK, absolutely not. We're not going back there Lily. You need to remember who are, who you've always been. Before everything happened at the beginning of this year, Lily Kent would have never doubted herself. And I saw that Lily Kent coming back, so you better not lose her again. Paige is lucky to have you." Emma says looking directly at me, her hand resting comfortingly on my arm.

"And she's never made me doubt that." In the time I've known Paige, she's never once made me feel like she doesn't love and care about me deeply. She tells me how beautiful I am multiple times a day. She goes out of her way to make me feel comfortable in situations where I would usually feel uncomfortable. Shes never judged me about anything I've told her, shes actually been perfect.

I know her apologies were genuine and I won't hold anything against her, I just got scared and when I get scared, I run.

Paige

"She's not here Paige." Kelsey says with one hand on her hip, the other on the front door.

"Don't lie to me Kelsey. I know she doesn't want to see me but I just want to give her these." I say holding out a bouquet of flowers similar to the ones I bought her on our first date.

"I'm not lying, Paige. Did you see her car downstairs?" Kelsey asks raising her brow and when I think about it, no. No, I didn't see her car.

"Well, where is she? It's almost midnight!" I say checking the time on my phone. 23:47.

"I don't know if she wants me to tell you." Kelsey says and I just glare at her, "Kelsey, come on."

"Fine. She went home, left a few hours ago."

"Home? Home to Boston?" I ask confused.

"Yes Paige, home to Boston." My heart sinks because I know I'm the reason Lily felt like she had to get away. And my heart sinks further knowing she has gone back to a place that has so many bad memories for her.

"How long is she staying there for?" I ask, now standing awkwardly with the flowers in my hand, feeling like I could cry at any given moment.

"She didn't say. I'm sorry, Paige."

I shake my head, "It's my fault. Here, just take these." I hand Kelsey the flowers intended for Lily and turn and leave.

I debate getting in my car and driving to Boston and knocking on every door, on every street until I find Lily. But that's an impossible task. All I know is I don't want to go home, especially knowing Lily won't be there either.

So I go to what I know best. Basketball.

The court is in complete darkness when I enter. I flick on the lights one by one and they make a faint buzzing noise as they do.

Basketball has been the one constant in my life, the only time I didn't have it was when I was injured and that was the worst thing I've ever experienced. Not being able to do the thing you love most in life, the thing you're good at, the thing that makes you, you. I felt useless. I'm not sure how I got through it actually. Having basketball to come back to is what keeps me sane.

As I dribble the ball down the court and take shots from different points, I can't help but think about the times Lily and I have been on this court together. I shoot the ball from the three point line, usually an easy basket, one I could make in my sleep, but I miss.

I let out a frustrated groan and a few choice words. I'm pissed and basketball isn't even helping.

Eventually I leave the court and head home. Everyones alseep by the time I get back and I'm thankful I don't have to interact with anyone.

I try calling Lily one last time, but like all the others, it goes straight to her answering machine.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

Waking up next to Emma, in Boston felt foreign when I'd gotten so used to waking up next to Paige, in Connecticut. Even though my best friend was right next to me - I could practically feel her breath on my skin - I still felt alone. I missed Paige.

I had called in sick to my classes because it was now Monday morning and there was no way that'd I'd make it back to campus in time for my first lecture.

I reached over to the bedside table to check my phone, careful not to make Emma in the process. I had left my phone turned off for the past twelve hours so multiple notifications pinged through as I turned it on. Most of them were from Paige but I had a few from my friends too. Kayla was checking in to see if I was OK and Kelsey had sent me a picture.

I click on my roommates name and expand the message, the picture attached was one of a huge bouquet of pink and white flowers. They were beautiful. Kelseys message read from paige. Of course they were from Paige. I don't know why I expected anything less.

Messages from Paige had stopped being pleas of forgiveness and were now of concern about if I was OK and why I had gone home and when I was coming back. I couldn't form coherent sentences until I had some caffeine in my system.

Emma stirred beside before stretching her arms up and opening her eyes, "Coffee." Was the first word out of her mouth and I laughed, we were so similar.

My best friend and I quickly got ready before getting in the car and heading to the nearest Dunkin Donuts. I drove and can confidently say, I have not missed the Boston traffic.

"The flowers are really pretty." Emma says once we both have drinks in our hands and have taken a sip, "What are you going to do?" She asks.

"Well, I have to get back to campus either way. I'm working tomorrow and I really don't want to miss anymore classes." I say.

Emma dramatically wipes away fake tears, "So you're leaving me again." She says in faux sobs.

I nod, "Unfortunately, I'll head back to Connecticut after this." I say referring to our coffee date. "I need to speak to Paige too, obviously. I just don't know how or what I'm even going to say."

"You'll find the right words Lily, you always do." Emma encourages and I smile at her, "Thanks, Em."

I decide to finally text Paige back once we'd finished our coffees. I send a simple text, wanting to speak more in depth in person.

please answer my calls lily and we can talk about this

im coming over

where are you?

is it true you went home?

when are you coming back?

i hope you're ok, i miss you and i love you and im sorry

im ok, im coming back today

we should talk

I didn't expect Paige to reply because I thought she'd be in class but her response was almost immediate.

hi

yes definitely, let me know when you're back in ct

drive safe please, i love you

i will

i love you

"You guys will figure this out, don't stress it. Just be honest with Paige and ask her to be honest with you." Emma gives me some final words of encouragement as I put my bag in my trunk and prepare to drive back to Connecticut.

"I'll let you know how it goes." I say as I hug my best friend tightly.

"I love you Lily, drive safe." She says as I get into the drivers seat.

"I love you more, thank you for everything." I reply and wave as I back out of the driveway and begin the two and a half hour drive.

Paige

The day was going agonisingly slow and as I sat in the cafeteria with my teammates, I could feel myself falling asleep. I had barely slept last night and had an early class I needed to be up for and of course afternoon training which started at 12.

Lily had finally responded to my messages and told me she was coming home today and that we could speak but I didn't know what time that would be. I told her to let me know once she was back and I keep checking my phone, so much so Azzi tells me to stop.

"Paige, your notifications are on. You'll hear a text coming through." She says taking my phone out of my hand and placing it on the table.

"I'm just nervous." I admit, "I thought she'd never talk to me again."

Azzi laughs then quickly stops when she sees my deadpan facial expression, "Sorry," she apologises quickly, "but that even sounded ridiculous. She loves you Paige. I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. She probably just needed space, you kinda fucked up."

"Yeah, can everyone stop reminding me. I know I fucked up and I'm trying to fix it."

"You'll fix it, P. Well, you better because I really like Lily and things might be awkward when she comes round to see me and you're there." She jokes.

"OK, don't even say things like that. I'm going to fix it." I say adamantly.

"I believe in you." My best friend hypes me up with a pat on the shoulder, "Come on, let's get to training." She says. We gather our belongings and I check my phone one last time before heading to the gym.

Hearing from Lily this morning and knowing I was going to be seeing her at some point today and talking must have cleared my mind of any anxieties because everything on the court was flowing perfectly. Every shot I took was going in, every screen I set was executed the way I intended it to be and every block I attempted succeeded.

"Nice work, P!" Ash praises from the other end of the court, I raise my hand in thanks.

"Paige blockers in full effect, huh?" Nika laughs nudging into me.

"Not just a bucket." I jokingly shrug.

The rest of the session goes just as it started and Genos team talk is filled with confidence about the start of the season.

"Now go and get cleaned up, y'all stink." Coach jokes and we disperse from our huddle to go and shower.

"I think Paige said dinner was on her?" Aubrey says as she drapes her arm over my shoulder.

"Ha! You wish." I say as the majority of the team begin to leave the changing rooms.

"She's got some serious grovelling to do." Ice reminds me.

"I do. I'm not sure if Lily's back yet though, I'll text her." I say pulling out my phone as we walk back onto the court to exit the gym.

"No need." Aubrey says into my ear and I flick my head up quickly and I see why.

Lily is sat on one of the far benches. Her hair is tied on top of her head in a messy bun and she's wearing a black sweater and matching joggers. She has a bag flung over her shoulder and she's looking down, focusing on her hands in her lap.

"Good luck." Aubrey says and she pats me on the back before her and the rest of the team make a swift exit, saying hi and waving to Lily as they pass her.

As I get closer to Lily I notice how tired she looks. She has faint dark circles around her eyes and her eyelids hang lower than usual.

"You look tired." I say before I can stop myself but Lily just smiles, "Thanks." She says sarcastically.

"Sorry, I mean hi. I missed you." I say now stood directly in front of Lily.

"I was only gone a day." She says looking up at me slightly, giving me a clear view of her soft features.

"I still missed you." I say not able to stop my hand from cupping her cheek.

"We should talk." She says moving her face from my hand and the nerves that had dispersed whilst I was on the court, return again. 'We should talk' is such an ominous expression and knowing I'm in the wrong here, I'm not sure how this is going to go.

"Here?" I ask looking around the court, it was empty apart from us but I'm not sure if anyone else is scheduled in.

"Here's fine." Lily confirms so I sit next to her leaving a decent sized gap between us to avoid her shuffling down if I sat too close.

"I'm sorry." I say and takes me a few seconds to realise I didn't just hear my own voice but Lily's too.

"You're sorry? For what?" I ask confused, turning my head to look at her.

"For not listening. For running home instead of staying here and sorting this out." Lily explains.

"It's OK Lily, I understand why you did that. I acted so stupid. I really am sorry. And I need you to believe me when I say I never kissed Marianna. I should have been honest from the moment she messaged me but I freaked out thinking you'd be mad and then I just made it worse."

"And then I freaked out when I heard everything out of context and I thought you wanted to be with her again. Do you want to be with her again?" Lily asks, eyes glossing over as they focus on mine.

"Oh my god Lily, no. Not at all. I want to be with you and only you." I say sliding along the bench, closing the gap between us so our hips and thighs are touching and I reach out for Lilys hand and she lets me take it. "It's only you, pretty girl." I press a kiss to her hand locked in mine.

"Can we make a promise to always be honest with each other about things that happen and how we feel?" Lily asks looking at me.

I nod my head, "Yes. I promise to always be honest with you."

"Me too." She says and I brush a few wispy flyaways out of her face and my hand rests on her jaw, "And promise to never leave me again." I say as I lean closer to Lily. "I promise to never leave you again." She says and our foreheads are resting on each others, "I love you so mu-" "I love you too but please shut up and kiss me."

I do as Lily says and press my lips to hers and she kisses me with an urgency and need that ignites something inside of me. One of my hands is on her neck, the other is trailing up her thigh and onto her hip, I missed having her at the tips of my fingers. Lilys hand clutches onto the fabric of my hoodie and she moans into the kiss. Fuck.

"Why'd you stop?" Lily pouts as I pull away, breaking the kiss.

"I was almost forgetting where we were. Let's go back to mine." I say standing up offering my hand for her to take.

"Is everyone out?" She asks and her eyes are round and hooded and she just blinks, slowly at me.

I nod my head, "Stop giving me those eyes or we won't even make it to the car." I warn as she slips her hand into mine and we speed walk out of the gym.

"Is that a threat Paige Bueckers?" She says lowly, leaning her body into mine.

"Yes. So just be a good girl." I say as we reach my car and I open the passenger door for Lily to get in, "I'll try my best." She says with that same soft, innocent look on her face and I have to bite my lip.

"Just get in the car Lily. You're driving me crazy."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

Lily

"I kinda wish you were just coming to watch and didn't have to work." Paige says to me as she packs her bag in preparation for todays game.

UConn were playing Dayton in their season opener in the XL Centre. Marcus and I were going to be courtside during warmups and the match to capture content and then in the media room post match to conduct interviews.

"Me too, but I'm excited for my first ever basketball game." I grin from my place on Paiges bed.

Things had been good, in fact great with Paige since Marianna Gate. We were able talk it out and move on and things were back to normal in no time.

"Your first taste of WAG life." She smirks zipping up her full backpack and walking over to me.

"Uh huh," I nod reaching out for Paige as she stood at the foot of her bed, I place my hand on her hip, looking up at her, "You might even get a pre-match kiss."

"Oh really? What about post-match?" She asks cheekily, raising her brows.

"You have to work for that one." I remark smirking up as Paige towered over me.

"And how about now?" She asks reaching for my hands and pulling me up so I'm standing in front of her.

"Hmm," I ponder exaggeratedly, pretending I was thinking about it, "maybe just a quick one."

"Oh I can be quick." Paige says as she dips her head down bringing her lips to mine, pushing them together hungrily that I almost topple back onto her bed.

I smile almost breaking the kiss but quickly regain focus not wanting this moment to end. My hands trail up Paiges shirt coming into contact with her soft skin and I feel her growl lowly against my mouth. Her hands mirror mine and find their way up my shirt. Her touch is like fire on my bare stomach as they move up towards my chest and I gasp as they delicately slip into my bralette.

"PAIGE! We need to leave...like yesterday!" Azzi's voice calls out and we're both abruptly brought back to earth.

"If that was quick, I'd love to know what it's like when you take your time." I say to Paige as I readjust my clothing and she does the same.

"Stay over tonight and you'll find out." She says slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaving me flustered and red cheeked in her bedroom.

"I feel like we're at high risk of getting a ball to the face." I say to Marcus as we settle into our front row seats.

"It's never happened before so if it does I'm blaming you." He jokes, pulling out his notebook and pen and scribbling down some words.

I take my work phone out of my bag and immediately open up the camera snapping photos of the venue and the girls warming up.

I had been given the uconnwbb Instagram login for todays game and my job was to post exclusive behind the scenes content as it happened. I posted the first few stories then stood up to capture another angle.

Both teams were on the court warming up but my focus was on UConn, of course. I recorded as Aaliyah and Jana each in turn took shots at the basket, to no surprise they were all going in.

"Lily! Record me!" KK called out over the ruckus of bouncing balls and squeaking shoes. I aimed the phone at her, focusing the camera and dragging down on the screen to reduce the exposure. KKs eyes stayed on the camera lens and she took a no-look half court shot but it fell a few inches short, missing the basket and bouncing to the ground.

"Delete that!" She says running over to me and I laugh holding my phone close to my chest, "That's one for the archives." I say while KK just glares at me.

"Watch and learn." Paige gets our attention as she dribbles the ball to the centre of the court. She stands in the exact position KK just was, her eyes focused on us, body turned away from the basket.

I hold my phone still and steady, Paige in the centre of the screen and she sends me a quick wink before launching the ball out of her hands. I watch in awe as the basketball hurls through the air and eventually finds the basket.

Paige and KK absolutely lose it and run laps around the court screaming. "Tell me you got that?" Paige says stopping in front of me. "Yep!" I grin, turning the phone around so she can see what I just captured.

Geno called the team together for a quick team talk before the girls had to go and get changed into their match gear. I snapped a quick photo of them all huddled together and went to sit back by Marcus.

"You're close with the team." Marcus says glancing up from his laptop to look at me.

"You could say that, yeah." I respond feeling slightly awkward.

All of our close friends know that Paige and I are together but other than that we've kept things pretty private.

"Do you see them much outside of work?" Marcus presses and I nod my head in response, "Yeah, we hang out sometimes."

"Maybe you could put in a good word for me?" Heat immediately rises in my body as he says those words.

"Sure. With who?" I ask keeping my focus on the phone in my hands.

"Paige. She's cute right?" He asks and suddenly I can't speak.

"Um- I- I'm-" I struggle to speak with a mix off awkwardness and jealousy having taken over.

"Come on, you can't deny she's hot." Marcus continues and I can't take it. My skin prickles at the way someone else is talking about my girlfriend.

"Marcus, I-" I stand up from my seat not knowing what to say or do next.

"Lily, sit down. I'm kidding. Whatever you have going on is obvious, I just wanted to see if you'd say anything." Marcus laughs and I instantly relax and sit back down.

"Not funny Marcus." I say nudging him in the arm.

"I won't say anything, secrets safe with me." He says and acts out zipping his lips.

"It's not exactly a secret." I say turning my attention to Marcus.

"But you don't want people to know?"

"We don't want the internet to know...for obvious reasons." I tell him honestly.

"I get that." He says understandingly.

My phone buzzed in my pocket telling me I had a new notification. I pulled it out, it was a text from Paige.

I think I remember being promised a pre match kiss

come to the changing rooms

am i allowed?

just come, we'll be quick

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, "I'll be back." I say to Marcus before getting up out of my seat next to him and navigating my way to the changing rooms.

Obviously, I'd never been in this venue before so it truly was the blind leading the blind when it came to finding Paige. I was about to text her saying I'm lost when I turned a corner and at the end of the hall I saw my girlfriend, clad in her match day kit.

She had her back turned to me slightly, her long blonde ponytail hanging down her back, stopping just before the BUECKERS, covering her number but I didn't need to see it to know it was a 5.

"Looking good Bueckers." I say getting Paiges attention and she turns her body to me, her signature smile plastered on her face.

"Hi pretty girl," She greets me with her usual pet name that never fails to give me butterflies, "What do you think?" She asks smoothing down her jersey.

"You look great, P." I say closing the gap between us, my hand resting on her chest, "So hot." I say glancing up slightly because of our hight difference.

Paiges cheesy grin softened into a flirty smirk as she brought her face close to mine pressing our lips together. As always Paige kissed me with passion and urgency that made my skin feel like it was on fire. The kiss was short but sweet and as we pulled away I wanted nothing more than to lean back in.

"Good luck out there. I love you." I wish Paige good luck as she pulls me into a quick hug, her face nuzzling into my neck, "I love you. See you out there."

Watching Paige dominate on the court and lead her team to victory made me happier than ever. I've watched Paige train and practice and scrimmage so many times over the past few months but she had a different energy in the game today and it was radiating off her even once the game had ended.

The girls begin to disperse after shaking hands with the opposing team and congratulating each other. My eyes don't leave Paige and I flash her a small smile and show a thumbs up when she looks in my direction. The stadium is still bustling with fans and I can only assume the cameras are still rolling so I'm shocked when Paige jogs over to me and wraps me in a hug.

"Hey superstar." I beam once she's let me go. "You did great!"

"Thank you, Lils. I'm so glad you were here." She says and fiddles with the chain around my neck, fixing the pendant placement.

"Paige, people can see us you know." I remind her, feeling like everyones eyes were on us.

"I don't care if you don't." She says both her hands now resting on her hips, "Do you care?"

I think back to my initial doubts about our relationship being public. The pressure from outside felt like too much but loving Paige and being loved by Paige doesn't deserve to be hidden, it deserves to be shouted from the rooftops.

"I don't care." I reassure her and the smile that spreads across her face is enough to reinforce that.

After another quick hug, Paige goes over to the fans that have been screaming her name since the second she stepped on the court and Marcus and I make our way to the media room to prepare for post match interviews.

Paige

"Y'all are like viral, do you realise that?" KK says to Lily and me. She's scrolling through TikTok turning her phone around periodically to show us pictures and videos of our post game interactions.

"Paige has been viral." Nika says, "My whole For You Page is more of a For You Paige."

"I think that says more about you Nika." Aubrey laughs and we all join in.

"Lily deserves to be viral. I want the whole world to know how beautiful my girl is." I say pressing a kiss to Lilys head. We're sat on my bed with our backs against the wall, Lily is slouched into me comfortably and she's wearing my clothes because she's staying tonight.

"Cringe!" KK fake gags and rolls her eyes earning a pillow throw from Lily.

"Need I remind you, you're in my bedroom, clowning me for loving on my girl." I defend my PDA.

"Now everyone knows, you're going to be insufferable aren't you?" KK asks with a huff.

"Damn right. Now get leave so we can make out in peace."

"Don't need to tell us twice." Nika says standing up from the chair at my desk, grabbing onto KK and Aubrey dragging them out of my room.

"Goodnight mom and mom." KK calls out before closing the door leaving Lily and me alone.

"You love making them uncomfortable, don't you?" Lily laughs.

"I love loving you. Is that so bad?"

She shakes her head, "The complete opposite." She says planting a kiss to my lips.

"I'll do anything to protect you Lily. If this gets too much just tell me and I'll deal with it." I tell my girlfriend.

I know what the internet is like and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about Lily and how she'd handle the reaction. I love the way the game has grown and how we're starting to get the recognition we deserve but it comes with a white hot spotlight and people think they know you, own you and I won't let Lily be dragged into that.

We spend the rest of the night in my bedroom, laying in each other's arms, talking and laughing, just enjoying each others company and making out of course.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[slaaverin]

Do you think it’s possible that Jikook took a break in their relationship last year, the time everyone talks about, referenced in the car talk? Or even broke up? I just can’t chase the feeling?

No I have never believed so.

What I think is that there might have been some physical distance involved because of their respective schedules that developped a form of longing to be even more together ("You're here, finally").

But none of their interactions last year indicated anything that resembled a break-up or a break or anything. When you go through something like this there would automatically be a noticable difference in behaviour, something way more drastic than what we've seen. But it was business as usual, no change in behaviour at all. They still acted in love and they were happy when interacting and maybe they missed each other (probably because of schedule) but there was nothing indicating any form of emotional separation. Trust me, we would have noticed. Especially in a break of a long-term relationship like theirs.

Let's keep in mind that during all this time they were planning to enlist together. If you're in a break or anything would you plan to spend 18 month with someone you are on a break with? No. Because things would be uncertain. But things have never been uncertain for those two.

Yes circumstances might have been more difficult, some physical distance (and like come on that's not even counting the many times they've seen each other without us knowing about it), the questions about being together in military or not might have put them under a bit of stress, but I don't think there never was any doubt about the solidity of their relationship.

The proof of it was enlistment.

I don't know if people truly realize what a huge commitment and statement this is.

And if you count the fact that they made 3 (!) trips right before, to even spend more time together, there's no better way to tell that one of their top priority is each other.

They could have made those trips with family, with friends, with literally anyone. And I wouldn't have blamed them, they were already supposed to spend 18 month together, hell even in normal romantic relationships it would have been totally acceptable to do so.

But no, they spend those 3 trips together.

18 month was not enough, because they needed quality time before that, it was that important to them.

So you would believe they would willingly split up, take a break, not be together at any point in time? When they make a point of showing how much spending time together means to them and their well-being? This would make no sense.

Why would they take a break if being together is that essential to them?

Jungkook was begging to see Jimin at some point, begging.

They need each other.

They needed each other so much they went above and beyond to be in military together, they made space into their schedule to travel, and I'm sure they've seen each other in private when the schedule allowed.

They want to grow old together. They showed us they are fully committed into this relationship. In their mind it's a done deal.

So no, to me there wasn't a break or anything. And I don't think there really will be in the near future.

Hope this answers your question anon,

Take care

[amethystina]

finally had a chance to read ch41 and i have my head in my hands, gaon you stupid beautiful boy. i do have to say, I'm absolutely loving how you're writing this, you understand the characters in a way such that i don't think any other tdj writer does, not to say their works aren't amazing, but your writing is always what feels closest to a season 2. Hell, in my head, it is season 2. Anyways, thank you for doing your service to this fandom. If I had yohan type money I'd hire you to script write tdj s2 myself. have a good day!

Yeah, things aren't going great for Ga On right now. I mean, I get it, though. He has a lot of trauma and anxieties to deal with. And, in his defence, Yo Han isn't making things easier for him by being so guarded. Ga On has been able to figure out that Yo Han loves him but that's about it. And to someone like Ga On — who loves to help and take care of people — it's actually a very big deal that he can't tell if Yo Han needs him. The fact that Yo Han is so reluctant to show weakness or admit that he benefits from Ga On's presence in his life is one of the reasons why Ga On is spiralling right now.

That's not to say that I blame Yo Han, since he's understandably defensive after his upbringing and all that. But it's causing some pretty big problems that could have been avoided if only he'd told Ga On that being with him makes Yo Han feel more like an actual human being — and less like a monster.

But we'll get there, trust me.

Thank you so much for saying so 💜 At this point, I feel like I could probably write both Ga On and Yo Han in my sleep. And, for some reason, they were some of the easiest characters to get into that I've ever written. That's not to say that I wasn't nervous when I first started writing this fic — I was full-on panicking because not only was The Devil Judge the first new fandom I wrote for in years but it takes place in a culture that's very different from my own. So I almost stopped writing Who Holds the Devil the very day after I had started it x'D

But, in the end, I couldn't help myself because there's just something about these characters that appeals to me so, so much. As seen by the level of detail I'm putting into Who Holds the Devil. There's just so much I want to explore and write about. I LOVE these characters. And, as I've mentioned many times, that means that I try my best to do them justice and give their story the continuation it deserves. Also, it's just satisfying for me to know that I manage to capture them well xD

So yeah! Thank you so much for the compliment! It makes me so happy and proud to hear 💜 And yes, at this point, a lot of people (including myself) are kind of considering Who Holds the Devil as their season 2. Which is another thing I'm so incredibly proud of. It scares me, too, not going to lie — because it definitely adds a whole new level of pressure to perform well — but to know that I'm writing something that feels so genuine and appealing to so many people is an amazing feeling.

So thank you to you for telling me what you think. That's one of the things that helps keep me going, especially when things get a bit rough. I hope you have a good day too! :D

(Also, YES. Imagine the things we could do if we had Yo Han levels of money x'D)

[dreadfutures]

.

I love Solas, and I love Solavellan, because I find the character and story so compelling, but sometimes I feel like a fake Solavellan

to me Ixchel and Solas has kind of always been about two friends who both suffer from the same affliction and they are the only two people who can ever understand it, the affliction being outside (duty, responsibility, guilt) and inside (inherent fatalism in philosophy, viewing the self as unworthy, haunted by despair) and though

they can't at first forgive themselves or find the strength within them to stay out of their dark spirals, they can do it for the other. and how important that is. that's love. the smooching and everything is on top. the knowing what dark predators haunt the other person's psyche and saying I'll be there with you when the wolves come, we'll survive together. the I know exactly who you are and how ugly it is and I love you for it and I see the beauty still. the I will never get tired of you even if youre never "fixed." that's love right. that's Ixchel and Solas to me.

so like yeah they have been Together for about like 170+ chapters. they're not being tested about being pulled apart by duty or fear anymore, they're testing the strength of that bond in those dark ugly moments that come for us all. and mostly theyre good. mostly they're just on an adventure together.

somehow it feels like I'm a fake Solavellan 🥲 like early dpdf captured something and... getting together, having truths revealed, this *aftermath* is like I left that behind somehow. like it's beyond what Solavellans want. idk. I think about other fics that are post- truth coming out and staying together and they're very different vibes, I think, you know?

I like my action/adventure fic, I like them together, I like having moments where they find that there is still a dark corner they haven't swept out into the light yet and the way it's still scary for someone to want to know those ugly parts of you that they maybe haven't seen yet. I like having them be mostly utterly confident in each others competency. I like them united against the unknown together. but like did everything about them peak in Here Lies the Abyss, you know? or maybe Wycome? I'm so nervous about everything in TBG :'( it's just hard for me RN in my heart idk to feel confident of like. where it Fits into fandom besides "blue loves lore and wants to explore metaphysics with Ixchel (new perspective) and Solas (wise, experienced guide)"

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[set-phasers-to-whump]

skymed whump list

description: “Follows intense character journeys and high-stakes medical rescues, heartbreaks and tribulations of budding nurses and pilots flying air ambulances.” whump refers to various recurring male characters (unfortunately not all of them are in the pic, but from left to right are Tristan, Chopper, Nowak, and Bodie)

overall notes: apparently you can find the show on paramount plus but I pirated it so I can’t say anything for captions or availability. it’s a little silly sometimes but it’s way more interesting than a lot of your average medical dramas imo.

--

Pilots And Nurses And Bears, Oh My! (1x01) - Jeremy: stabbed, stitches Wheezer: plane crash, unconscious, bloody face, carried, broken back Bodie: upset

Line Indoc (1x02) - Bodie: at gunpoint, hit in the head with a gun

The Kids Are Alright (1x03) - Wheezer: in the hospital

Where There’s Smoke (1x04) - Wheezer: on crutches

Bushwhacked (1x05) - Wheezer: walking with a cane Jeremy: hit by a car, in the hospital Bodie: leg caught in a bear trap, carried, in the hospital Tristan: upset, crying

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (1x06) - none

Daj Mi Buzi (1x07) - Nowak: overworked, tired, crashes his car, cut forehead, in pain and struggling to get out, relocates dislocated shoulder by himself, two panic attacks Jeremy: in medical transport, upset Trevor: upset Bodie: upset

Frozen (1x08) - Nowak: panic attack while flying, upset, fight with Bodie Chopper: panicked Bodie: fight with Nowak Jeremy: cold

Leave It All On The Ice (1x09) - Wheezer: gagging Jeremy: stumbling, shot, upset at himself Pierce: trapped under a shelf, reveals he’s going deaf, internal bleeding, in the hospital, upset at himself Bodie: crying

NEW!! Season 2:

Return to Base (2x01) - Jeremy: argument with Crystal Tristan: mildly electrocuted, argument with Nowak Nowak: argument with Tristan Wheezer: scared Chopper: in an explosion, unconscious, impaled with shrapnel, cardiac arrest, field medicine

Spun Out (2x02) - Jeremy: upset, argument with Crystal Wheezer: slip and fall, emotional conversation Chopper: unconscious in hospital, waking up, groggy, arm pain, upset, collapse Bodie: upset Nowak: upset

Things That Matter Most (2x03) - Chopper: upset, can’t use his hand much, hand bandaged Nowak: upset Bodie: plane crash, emotional conversation, crying Tristan: plane crash, broken rib Jeremy: plane crash

Turbulence (2x04) - Chopper: in pain from his injuries, limping, upset, crying

Code Silver (2x05) - none

Little Lies (2x06) - Jeremy: upset, doubting himself Wheezer: stressed Nowak: upset, angry

Old Wounds (2x07) - Tristan: upset, crying Nowak: guilty, panicking, vomits Wheezer: upset, worried about Haley, argument with Haley, angry Bodie: in trouble for breaking rules Chopper: in trouble for breaking rules

Before Sunrise, After Sunset (2x08) - Bodie: upset

Out With a Bang (2x09) - Nowak: upset, trapped by a broken elevator, revelation of past trauma, crying, unconscious, carried, in hospital with ruptured diaphragm and broken ribs Wheezer: sick, delirious Tristan: upset, crying, worried Bodie: in hospital after kidney donation

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

re: Somerton

Not for nothing, but I think we should remember that James Somerton's fans and subscribers are normal people, just like you. They are people who received his output in good faith, and extended to him a normal amount of grace and benefit of the doubt, which he took advantage of.

I don't think it's helpful to respond to the exposé on Somerton with sentiments along the lines of "wow, how could anyone ever think THIS GUY'S videos were any good, ha ha ha, how did he ever get subscribers?" because 1) you have the substantial benefit of hindsight and a disengaged outsider perspective, and 2) it's a rhetoric that creates a divide between you (refined, savvy, smart, sophisticated) and Somerton's audience (gullible, unrefined, easily taken advantage of, terrible taste), which is a false divide, with a false sense of security.

Somerton's success happened because he stole good writing. He found interesting, insightful, in-depth work done by other people, applied the one skill he actually has which is marketing, and re-packaged it as his own. He targeted a market which is starving for the exact kind of writing he was stealing, and pushed his audience to disengage from sources that conflicted with him.

Hbomberguy makes this point in his exposé video: good queer writing is hard to find and incredibly easy to lose. The writers Somerton stole from were often poor or precarious, writing freelance work for small circles under shitty conditions, without the means or the reach or the privileges necessary to find bigger markets. And, as Hbomb demonstrated, when people did discover Somerton's plagiarism, he used his substantial audience to hound them away and dissuade anyone else from trying to hold him accountable.

He stole queer writing by marginalized people, about experiences and perspectives that people are desperate to hear more about, and even if his delivery and aesthetics were naff, his words resonated with people because the original writers who actually wrote them poured their goddamn hearts and souls into it.

Somerton also maintained a consistent narrative of persecution and marginalization about himself. He took the plain truth, which is that queer people and perspectives are discriminated against, and worked that into a story about himself as a lone, brave truth-teller, daring to voice an authentic queer perspective, constantly beset by bigots and adversaries who sought to tear him down. As @aranock, who works with some of the people he targeted, writes in this post, Somerton weaponized whatever casual bias and bigotry he could find in his audience to reinforce his me vs them narrative (usually misogyny and various forms of transphobia), which is what grifters do. They find a vulnerable thread in a community and pull on it. And while you may not have the particular vulnerability that he exploited, you do have vulnerabilities, and they can be exploited too.

People felt compelled to support him, even if his work was sometimes shoddy, because he presented himself as a vulnerable, marginalized person in need of help, he pulled on that vulnerable thread.

Again, he has a degree in marketing, and just like propaganda, nobody is immune to marketing.

YouTube as a system is set up to push for more, constantly more. More content, more videos, more output, more more more more, and part of Somerton and Illuminaughty's success was their ability to push out large amounts of content to the hungry algorithm, even if it was of inferior quality. The algorithm rewarded their volume of output with more eyeballs and attention, and therefore more opportunities to find people who were vulnerable to their grift.

It is a system which quite literally rewards the exact kind of plagiarism that they do, because watch-time and engagement are easily measurable metrics for a corporation, and academic rigor is not. There is pressure to deliver, and a lot of rewards to gain from cutting corners to do it.

Somerton and Illuminaughty and Internet Historian are extreme and very obvious cases, so blatant that you can make a four hour video essay exposing what they've done, but the vast majority of this kind of plagiarism isn't going to be obvious - sometimes it might not even be obvious to the people who are doing it. Casual plagiarism is endemic to the modern internet, and most people don't get educated on what the exact boundaries are between proper sourcing and quoting vs plagiarizing. We had an entire course module at my university aimed at teaching students the exact differences and definitions, and people still made good faith mistakes in their essays and papers that they had to learn to correct during their education.

All of this to say: it is extremely easy in hindsight to call Somerton's work shitty and shoddy, his aesthetics flat and uninspired, and to imagine that as a sophisticated person with good taste and critical faculties, you would never be taken in by this kind of grifter. It is extremely easy to distance yourself from the people he preyed on, and imagine that you will never have to worry about your fave doing your dirty like that.

But part of the point of Hbomberguy's video is that plagiarism is extremely easy to get away with, and often difficult for the average person to spot and call out, and with the rise of AI tools blurring the lines even further, it is not going to get any easier.

So I think we should resist the temptation to think of Somerton's audience as people with bad taste and poor faculties. We should resist the temptation to distance ourselves from the perfectly normal people he preyed on. Many times in your life, a modestly clever man with a marketing degree has fooled you too.

On a personal note, by the same token, I am resisting the temptation to assume that I am too good to be vulnerable to the systemic pressures that produced Somerton and Illuminaughty. No, I've never made a video by word-for-word reciting someone else's work, but I know for a fact that I could do a better job of double-checking my work and citing my sources. I feel the exact same pressure to get a video out as fast as possible, I have the exact same rewards dangled in front of me by YouTube as a platform, and I can't pretend it doesn't affect my work. To me, Hbomb's video felt like a wake-up call to do better.

[luna0713hunter]

Lover,Please stay

CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.

The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.

And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.

Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.

"you're staring."

You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.

"and what if i am?"

But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.

And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.

"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"

"hold on- is that...his partner?!"

"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"

"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"

And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.

Too crowded. Too loud.

And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.

And its the last straw when you hear their next words.

"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"

"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"

So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.

You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.

You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.

And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.

You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.

God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.

And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.

When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.

When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.

"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"

"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."

"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."

You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.

"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."

"so what?"

You snap you head up.

"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"

Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.

He looks utterly pissed.

"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."

When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.

"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."

When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.

"dont give me that look; I've said it before."

"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"

An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.

"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"

Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.

[ms-dead-inside]

Okay, but hear me out:

Murder baby Damian, but for whatever reason, his first attempt at Tim's life is put on pause, so they never have that interaction. Instead, before Damian can come up with a new plan, Tim (who's kinda excited he now isn't the baby of the family) offers to train him in detective work for when Damian finally gets the mantle of 'Robin' as a way to bond with him.

"Why train your enemy, Drake?"

"We're brothers, not enemies. Besides, Robin has always been a mantle to pass down. I'm certainly not going to keep it in my twenties or thirties. And other than Bruce, I'm the best detective in the family."

"Very well, Drake, I shall accept your tutelage for the time being."

Damian accepts, of course. Not only can he study Drake for his weaknesses, he will also improve his own skill set. It's worth the wait for Robin. By the time Damian's done, there will be no doubt that he is the superior bat.

Unfortunately, he actually grows fond of Timothy. While he will inevitably get close with Richard, just like in canon, Timothy is a breath of fresh air for when Richard is being too overbearing, especially when it comes to things like 'socializing,' and 'making friends.'

When his father dies, and Timothy declared him actually lost to time, Richard doesn't believe him, can't believe him, because the hope is too painful. Timothy still gives Damian Robin, because, "I'm barely holding on as Batman as it is. I can't handle Robin being gone for potentially months at a time, halfway around the world."

During his partnership with Richard, truly becoming his brother-son, Richard introduces the ideas of pets to him. Damian loves animals, and having and taking care of a creature that could potentially survive on its own, but will have a much better quality of life under his care, speaks to him. He has Alfred and Titus and about half a dozen other stray animals that usually stay for about a week while he nurses them to health at any given moment, but he feels like he should officially have another pet.

Que the whole thing with his grandfather, and Timothy getting kicked out of the top of a skyscraper. He comes home with proof, and the Justice League brings his father home. And as Dick basically refuses to let anyone leave the mansion for the foreseeable future, Damian realizes several facts:

1.) Timothy is a human, and humans are animals.

2.) While Timothy has somehow survived until now, he wouldn't recognize self-care if it slapped him in the face.

3.) Timothy's quality of life will improve if someone is taking care of him because he cannot be trusted to do it for himself. (Is it a coincidence that he loses organs when he is away from the family? Damian thinks not.)

4.) Damian has gotten good at taking care of animals.

Ergo, Timothy is now Damian's pet. Tim doesn't know what to do and simply humors him. Besides, it's nice when someone actually bothers to give him a plate of foods that he likes when he gets hyper focused on work and forgets to eat. That, and while he is exasperated every time Damian tranqs him, those are still the best sleeps of his life.

Jason finds it hilarious. Damian doesn't understand Richard or his father's reactions.

"Damian, Tim can take care of himself."

"Barely. Father, now that I am in charge of his sleep schedule, there aren't as many dark circles under his eyes. Even Alfred has commented that Timothy consumes less caffeine."

"Damian, he can't be your pet."

"Why not?"

"Tim's your brother; he's family."

"So are you saying that Alfred and Titus aren't family?"

[uyallstars]

Can I add how shameless people are? In the animanga fandom there are blogs with ask box closed that steal gifs and repost them some of them with watermarks some without, they tag it with generic tags so people don´t know they´re doing till you see them on their dash (e.g. I gif sailor moon they post it with #anime #magical girl #90s but not the name of the anime). If I see a gif without the name of the anime I assume they stole it. 

I sent a message to one of them, via direct message of course, and they deactivated without saying a word but all these reposters have all new blogs (less than a year) who knows if they´re back doing the same thing. Some get angry if you message them or they have written out right in their description that they reposts gifs and what can you do? only the creator can do something.

"i'm struggling to find gifs" "why can't i find gifs of this scene or this show" "why are less people taking requests"

you repost to twitter, to pinterest, to instagram, to tiktok and lord knows what else. on twitter, a single gif taken from a gifset that didn't even receive 1k notes (not 1k likes or even 1k rbs, if that even exists these days) can get 3m views and 30k+ likes. without credit, of course - if you're like, you get a mispelled: made by x on tumblr, no link of course.

hell, you repost on this very site and you refuse to listen. your set, stolen from someone else and mixed in with quotes, gets 1k notes meanwhile the original sits at less than 500. you do not credit the person who made it.

we ask you to reblog things instead of liking them and you go on rants about how it's unnecessary and how we should do it for fun. we explain a hundred times that tumblr doesn't work the way other social media platforms work, but you refuse. you wonder why there are less gifmakers.

gifs don't take 10 seconds like on ezgif or imgflip or whatever the hell you're using. it takes hours sometimes to even download footage, but you don't care. it's a moving image that we "stole" (?) from the original work but the labour? you don't care. depending on our process, it can take from half an hour (the downloading and the editing part) to hours upon hours. but who cares.

you credit text posts, fanvids, and you go after those who steal written work (as you should). we cannot even get other gifmakers to care when our stuff is stolen. staff took away our only tool to fight reposters on this site, and we never had any to fight reposting to other sites.

we know what the staff is aiming at with the changes they make and the changes they refuse to make - we explain that why disabling likes would help, they say they will not do it. they cannot slap an @ onto gifs when saved to prevent stealing but boy, look at the shiny new editor that adds an additional least 5 minutes to upload your gifs! again, intention is very clear.

we know you don't steal gifs under a certain quality and we know you ask us for requests for scenes/parallels that have been done because you do not like the quality of those. we see you stealing quality sets.

there is no point to this i just needed to vent. staff is disregarding the very foundation of this site, gifmakers are given less and less respect and you wonder why scenes aren't giffed.

i don't know. add your perspective if you want

[oblique-lane]

Spy tf2 and his identity

Character analysis (or at least my vision on him, if you believe my reasoning)

What do we know about Spy? He's a disguise mastermind. He can pretend to be anyone in order to infiltrate into the scene to do his job - quite literally, stab people on the back. But when he's not in the battle, what is he to his teammates? A suave Frenchman, a gentleman with taste, somewhat a leader.

At least, that's the persona he prefers to show. But is he really..?

What if I tell you that this person never drops his disguise?

For a man who always wears a mask and who's identity being secret is a sacred part of his role in this job, isn't this persona too much to show if it is real? Frenchman, rich, ladykiller... Wouldn't it be too easy to decipher his identity with so much clues provided? Wouldn't it be dangerous?

While Miss Pauling and the Administrator definitely know Spy's real identity, hiding it is a major thing for whatever reason. One could assume it might be because of Scout (obvious guess) but I doubt he's a sole reason. Spy very much enjoys being the Spy all by himself. Do what's the deal?

Let's start from the beginning.

Why did Spy join Mann Co. in the first place?

Let's take this assumption as a fact: people come here out of desperation. They are professionals in their field, yet in their past/casual life there is a pattern of them having difficulties that push them into joining this service. I don't see why Spy would be an exception.

The reason for joining is usually money. Some people question why Spy, a wealthy man from higher society, would join Mann Co. if he has it all already.

Well, probably because he really does not.

Have you ever met an aristocrat? Wealthy people don't get so protective about their expensive suits, they can afford cleaning or a new one. Regardless, rich people don't usually get stingy about material goods, especially if they're mass produced.

At least, not those who were born into wealth.

Spy's defensiveness about his "wealthy stuff", his pomp-ness, disgust and arrogance towards "plebs" gives off a man who knows what it means to live in poverty and who doesn't want to be associated with it ever again.

(Not even talking about his own filthy habits such as not washing his mask and pissing on walls? Jesus Christ)

Dare I even guess that he might be not French at all? His French is so broken. (Although, so is Medic's German, but at least he uses his language much more frequently and in more complex sentences, while Spy only uses French to say some basic expressions, occasionally confusing them with other languages). Definitely not a native.

If anything, he's not giving "rich man" at all, he's giving con man. And that fits my picture perfectly.

So, poor upbringing. How old is Spy? If he's Scout's father (and he was young when he was conceived), I'd say he's no less than 20 years older than him. I'd give him a few more years actually. So, approximately Spy is around 50 at the events of the game (1968-1972). Let's assume he was born somewhere in the 1910s.

Even if he's not French, I still agree that he's probably European. Hmm, what was happening in Europe at the time Spy was a kid?

Oh yeah. The Great Depression.

See my picture: imagine, a child from a lower class family during the Great Depression, his parents were most likely to not take good care about him (both because of the economical situation AND as an echo to Spy's struggles with his own fatherhood). He has to run away from home early and start to make money. Any way possible.

Unavoidably, it leads to crime.

Petty theft, blackmail, scams. Changing identities. Selling low quality products and services. Changing identities again. When older, seducing rich women to stay at their homes overnight, be fed and supported. Running away from the police. Walking into a trap of the mafia, and then joining them as their goon.

In this nightmare of a life he just had to keep pretending to be someone else, someone better and stronger, in order to his ego to not completely shutter. He had to imagine he was an invincible mastermind trickster of some sort, not just a poor boo-hoo victim of poverty who has never knew normal life and care.

And if you pretend for long enough, you become your role eventually... Right?

His true self was long lost forgotten under many layers of new identities. Worse, his true self was never known. And he didn't want it to be known in its ugly and disgusting vulnerability. Narcissism became his lifeline.

It's so much better to be Spy. To be rich and elegant and respected. His ego rebuilt.

[shawnxstyles]

panty stealer

DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023

summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.

request: yes!

words: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.

note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2

—

“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.

“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”

peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.

the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.

like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?

people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.

peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.

he did, right?

brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.

peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.

flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.

speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.

“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.

“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.

“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?

“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”

“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.

peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.

“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”

—

peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.

soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.

“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”

peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”

“oh, you’re so in for it.”

—

so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.

peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?

“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.

“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”

“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.

“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.

their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?

—

for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.

unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.

when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.

it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.

peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.

“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.

your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.

“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”

“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.

besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.

he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.

usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.

“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”

“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.

poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.

flash deserved it, though.

brad is probably getting one of their numbers.

peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.

“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.

“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.

how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.

peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.

“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?

“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.

“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”

your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”

“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.

“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.

he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.

he would say some of his confidence is back now.

he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.

peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.

“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”

“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?

his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.

“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.

“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”

you shake your head.

“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.

“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.

“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.

“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.

he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.

peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.

he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.

the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.

his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.

“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.

peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.

“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”

peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.

your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.

“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.

“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”

you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.

“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”

you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.

“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.

“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.

hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.

“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.

slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.

“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.

“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”

if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.

there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.

that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.

his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.

“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.

“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”

with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.

summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.

you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.

you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.

a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.

when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.

“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”

“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”

peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.

“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.

“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.

“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.

“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.

“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.

you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.

you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.

“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.

suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.

“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.

with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.

“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.

rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.

so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.

as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.

oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.

what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.

—

tags: @raajali3

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.