#Please help I want to read it again so bad

[mysteria157]

I apologize if this is all over the place…lots of thoughts!

Lu…

This truly made me tear up. It’s so rare to see post shibuya Nanami and I’m glad you picked up the pen. Every piece of this was so brutally emotional. To see the Nanami we know—that self-sufficient man who works in absolutes and knows exactly how much effort he wants to give—reduced to this. Alive—but scarred emotionally, mentally, and physically. Reduced to home health aides and his students. You paint it so well.

And it’s raw. The reality of this situation is that Nanami was burnt so bad. And you don’t hold back at all. Describing his wounds, the fact that he has a face mask, a cane to help him around the house.

But through it all…what really made me tear up. And I was truly tearing up, were his morning affirmations. It’s just…I don’t even know how to describe it. To know that Yuji sent them to him and Nanami decided to do it?

“I embrace healing.”

“We aren’t going to be hard on ourselves because this is new to you.”

“It’s a new day. New chances.”

This is healing. The gritty, frustrating, and terrible parts of it. You don’t just bounce back from 3rd and 4th degree burns. And not only that, but you don’t just bounce back from the emotional turmoil of losing more of your close friends, of playing the part as a sorcerer.

He deserves so much love, it’s insane.

I love how you’ve written reader. You can see that flicker of tenacity in her but she’s patient and measured, funny as well and she doesn’t hover. Keeping him occupied while also assisting with the salad. The mention of her ex and how she moves on so quickly (I need to know more Lu please).

Nanami wants that independence but isn’t ashamed to admit what he needs help with. He’s trying so so hard and the scene at the end when he’s trying to cut the tomato. I could feel that frustration, that hopelessness.

“This feels like it’s never going to get getter.”

But you still paint that hope. When he asks if he’ll be able to cook again, when he finally acquiesces and asks for your help with his fork, you can see that Nanami isn’t going to give up. And we all know pookie is not a quitter.

God…I truly hope you make another part to this. The way it ends and just how much emotional ground that can be covered…this deserves a Lu Part 2. One of my favorite post shibuya nanami fics.

Thank you for writing this. Truly. I love fics that show the depth of Nanami that we do not see or are easily overlooked. I love this man so much and you made me smile while I read this. Even through the tears.

Thank you for your wonderful words, Lu 💕

Lifetime

post shibuya!nanami x caregiver!reader

A series dedicated to healing and letting yourself have a second chance in this lifetime.

Inspired by this song that brings me to tears every single time.

content warning: shibuya arc, mentions of death, mental health awareness, angst(eventual comfort), burn victim so expect some detailed imagery.

wc: 4.9k

an: thank you for reading. I love you lots.

I.

Time seemed to trickle as Nanami waited for his physical therapist to arrive.

First at home session since being discharged.

4 days a week, 30 minutes a day.

“Individualized exercise program including rigorous activities as you progress to help you regain your independence.. Sure.” Nanami read from the pamphlet out loud and sighed as he looked over the stack of literature he left the rehab facility with.

He was thankful that he was deemed fit enough to continue his healing at home after 11 weeks in the best facility Gojo could find. While it accommodated every possible concern one could have, he was certain he wouldn’t feel confident in being self sufficient until he was able to put all he had learned into practice at home.

So there he was, sifting through paperwork and sipping his coffee as he awaited his new physical therapist and as Ino finished cleaning his kitchen.

“I think thats it! Lunch is in the black container on the top shelf in the fridge and I’ve prepped dinner for when Gojo comes to cook. Anything else before I’m off?” Takuma grabbed his keys, the jangle bringing Kento out of his reading trance as he looked up.

“Yes, that should be fine. I appreciate you coming over every morning Takuma. But it’s not necessary.”

Takuma scoffed, almost offended at the idea. “Nonsense. Its just a little breakfast and lunch. Its on my way to the school anyway. Consider it a small help.”

He could protest but Takuma would simply find another way to make himself useful. Whether it be taking him to his appointments or coming to slather his injuries: he was going to find a way to be of help.

As he adjusted his cast as best he could, a text popped up from an unsaved number.

>Hello, Mr. Nanami! Currently heading to you. ETA is ten minutes.

Signed with your name, Nanami simply reads the text and reacted to the message with thumbs up.

“Thank you, Takuma. Truly. But I think thats everything. My physical therapist is on their way so I’ll just hang out til then.”

“Alrighty! I’ll be working mostly on campus so just shoot me a text if you need me. Take it easy, Nanami.” with that, Ino grabbed his jacket and proceeded out the front door.

Nanami exhaled and got up to sit at the window. The mid morning sun was gentle but insistent, that soft golden hue brightening everything it touched.

It wasn’t harsh, just warm enough to remind Nanami of the outside world, a quiet promise that time was still moving. The warmth on his right side almost felt foreign as the dust mites danced lazily in the light. He closed his eyes, taking in the fragile sense of something stirring inside of him­— reposeful comfort in the way the sun didn’t have a sudden, overwhelming wave of joy but a soft declaration that he was still here.

Nanami hadn’t had many moments to really think about just how life changing the incident had been. Half of his body littered in 3rd degree burns, a third of that, 4th degree. Loss of hair on one side, an eye patch over his eye and a lack of feeling down his left arm.

He’d looked at himself in the mirror exactly once since the incident and didn’t do it again until he acquired his face prosthetic recently.

It was bulky and itchy, but it alleviated the deformities and more importantly, kept him from being too hard on his own appearance.

The moment felt necessary. Reminding him that the sun remained a constant while other things changed.

“I’ll need to see if I can sit outdoors for a few minutes a day. Would be good for me.” he noted outwardly before a light tapping at the front door had him shuffling towards the foyer.

One moment, please.” he paused a few paces before he reached the door to look down, remembering his shirt had a hole near the hem of it. He didn’t have time to change but only hoped the therapist wouldn’t see him as some undetermined slob with no real concern on how he looked.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Mr. Nanami?”

“That would be me.”

“Perfect! Hello! I was sent by the health and wellness agency as part of your transitioning to home health care. We have an appointment. May I come in?”

No scrubs, no accessories to signify you were a medical professional. Just a badge clip holding your ID with “HHA” boldly sitting under your name.

“Sure. Come on in.” He led you into the house, slowly walking into the living room and nodding towards the couch as you stood next to him.

You grin and sat on the far end of the couch, near the window, “Thank you.” you sat your tote littered in small pins on the coffee table and pulled out a somewhat thick file.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

Shaking your head, you tapped the top of your bag. “No thank you. I have my tumbler. But I appreciate it!”

Nanami slightly bowed his head and sat in the solo chair next to the couch. “Alright so, how do we start this? I was told I’d see you four days a week with one more day possibly if I need to.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your paperwork before looking back up to meet his neutral gaze.

“I believe that’s your physical therapist that you will be seeing four days out of the week.”

“Then pardon me for being so… impolite. But who are you exactly?”

The laugh that left your lips was a soft one but enough for Kento to lift his lips into a slight smile.

“I realize your discharge team didn’t give you names, faces, or titles. My apologies.”

“It happens.”

You continued. “I’m your Home Health Care Provider. While you were still in recovery, you met with your primary care provider and you spoke of your in home care, correct?”

Nanami nodded. “Yes.”

“Going over the team you’d have for your in housee rehabilitation, you were assigned a home health aide 5 days a week.”

His brow furrowed. “So you are that, I assume?”

“Yes. I will also be the one looking over the full team that provides you with your in-home care.”

“This feels very unnecessary.” The tone in his response was sharp. “I have people who come to help me with my daily needs. Having an entire team sounds like an exhausting back and forth to have coming to my house. A waste of resources.”

Your demeanor remained soft and understanding as you listened to his concerns. “Mr. Nanami. I understand that it sounds overwhelming. If I had to be in the predicament of needing a care team after an incident, I too would be a bit apprehensive.”

“But you aren’t. I am.”

The immediate smile that grew on your face wasn’t one that came from kindness. It was your defense, albeit an understandable one. “You are correct. I’m not. But I implore to at least hear me out on why its important to have us.”

A rush of emotions filled Kento’s chest. He wanted to pull his hair out from sheer frustration. But he remained calm.

His discomfort was obvious to you and you wanted to remedy the ache somehow.

“I want you to have an idea of what this could look like as you approach the first steps of gaining a sense of normalcy. Would you be willing to let me give you an example of what a week may look like for you? And if you don’t like it, we can adjust to a schedule that fits better for you.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Splendid.” You reached into your file and pulled out a thoroughly detailed schedule and turned it for Nanami to look along with you.

“So, this schedule is based loosely on the day to day you had while in the rehab facility. No matter who, anything involving someone from your team wouldn’t be arriving until 10am. This is unless you decide to utilize me. Then I would be here at 7 every morning to aide you with your morning routine.”

“What if I don’t want extensive help?”

“I would respect the boundary.”

Nanami took a closer look at the schedule, seeing the words ‘kitchen prep healing exercise’ highlighted for every Tuesday and Thursday. “What does this entail? Kitchen prep healing.”

“Your passions shouldn’t suffer because of changes. So I created a regimen that would help us get in the kitchen and get busy while making sure we help maintain your range of motion and fine motor skills.”

Nanami looked up at you for a moment, trying to assess just how serious you were about changing what he was uncomfortable with.

“So if I only need you for meal prep and assisting with chores around my house.”

“Then I will only help you with meal prep and assisting with your chores around the house.”

He handed the schedule back to you. “And if it isn’t something that I’ve mentioned?”

Trying to test you. Cute. “If you mention to me that would like me to assist you in going to the grocery store, fixing your bed, helping you get ready for your appointments, then I will. Because my goal is having you confident in yourself and your abilities.”

That nagging feeling of what if filled his chest and mind. Nanami knows he can’t do it alone. But to be a burden is the last thing he wants to ever become.

“I don’t want to become too dependent on you and your teams’ services.” He sat up as best he could, stretching out his legs and wincing at the unexpected intensity of his blood flowing through his left leg.”

Not wanting to lose the momentum, you sat on the edge of the couch alert of and aware of the pain he showed. “Your independence will not falter. We are merely an extension. We are the claw arm that’s in your reach if the jar of pickles are too high up, if you will.”

Nanami tried to stop the half smile on his face but faltered. “I understand.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” You smiled politely.

“A few,” Nanami cleared his throat. “When it comes to changing my dressings..”

“I will be the only one who sees them completely outside of your primary physician.” You answered, as if you were waiting for that specific question.

“Second question: can you properly fold a fitted sheet?”

You laughed, nodding. “The trick is in how you hold the corners. Line up the creases and you’ll always have a perfect fold.”

Nanami nodded. “Interesting.” The intense blood flow in his legs ceased and his body noticeably relaxed. He sat forward. “Final question, if you were to start tomorrow, could we have your start time for 8am? I like having the first hour of the day to myself.”

“If you want me here at 8 am, I will be at the door by 7:55 to knock at 7:59.”

The moment of silence was filled with hope as you realized you got to him. You let him see genuine concern and thats all he wanted. But this was only the beginning. And you were willing to be his guide to a sense of independence all the way through.

___________________________________________

The silence of the early morning was heavier than usual— a quit hum of of the refrigerator reached his room as he slept with his bedroom door open now, a new practice he’s since learned is a response to his trauma.

He sat on the side of his bed, staring down at his slippers that warmly held his feet as the barely visible morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unrelenting.

“I embrace healing.” He spoke out loud, his voice still low, sleep riddened, as he slowly rose from the bed and grabbed his cane.

“We aren’t going to be hard on ourselves because this is still new to you, Kento. Its okay to not know what to do.”

Mornings were more of a drag than he would like for them to be.

His body was more stiff. More rigid. He needed 30 minutes minimum to sit on the side of the bed and stretch just to muster up enough internal energy to get up and grab his cane.

He sounded off, flipping the bathroom light on and adjusting the sink to run warm water. “Today will be a great day.” He washed his hands, meticulously washing between his fingers and flicking the excess off his fingers before he dried them, reaching for a clean towel and letting it soak under the faucet.

“You will be more than okay.” this time, he spoke as if someone would overhear him talking to his self.

Nanami shook his head, lowly chuckling at what he found himself doing.

Yuji began to send him various videos that initiated ‘positive self talk’ and ‘daily affirmations for healing the body.’ Yuji hoped to try and help expedite a process that Megumi told him more than fives times, would take awhile.

Slowly pulled away the dressing on his cheek, Nanami watched small bits of dead tissue peel away from his healing skin. He threw it in the trash hamper, then pumped a small dot of antimicrobial soap on the wet towel he’d soaked and gently began to wash his face.

He looked closely, inspecting every patch he wiped over to take notice of any changes in how his skin looked. He tried very, very hard to not look into his own eyes.

Rinsing and patting to dry, he washed his hands again then reached for the jar of salve, precisely swiping a thin layer over his left cheek and forehead before he placed his transparent face mask on.

Finishing up his morning bathroom routine went without a rush. Going to throw on yet another loose fitting t-shirt and casual pants before sliding his slippers back on.

Slow and steady. Nice and easy.

“I am going to have a great day today.” the rubber end of his walker softly thudded against the wooden floors as he made his was down the hall. “It is a new day. New chances.”

He wasn’t going to confirm or deny if these affirming exercises were doing anything. But he’d admit that saying them aloud was probably the silliest he’d felt ever doing anything.

The living room held a welcoming warmth as he drew the blinds open that faced the street.

The third floor apartment view was always the one thing that made the asking price of his condo worth it to him.

The patchwork of traditional rooftops and modern buildings met the edge of the cities outskirts. Bare branches stood against the pale early morning winter sky, hints of early plum blossoms added a hint of a spring that would soon come and wipe away the muted landscape.

Kento sat on the window seal, taking in the low mountains in the distance. That thin veil of mist hiding the peaks that were still dusted in snow. With a deep inhale, he looked down at the street to see a bundled up pedestrian loading his car with boxes as another, that looked only slightly familiar, was exiting their car in a slow jog to the front steps of his building.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall.

7:55 am.

“Timely.”

slowly, he went to open the rest of the blinds around the living room, a slow tango that made him a feel like he still had just enough control, timing the last curtain opening perfectly as your soft knock filled the foyer yet again.

He stood there for a moment, his hand resting on the frame, before opening the door and stepping aside in a half step to let you in. His expression was neutral — not unkind, but carefully composed, as if he were still deciding how much space to give you in his life.

“Good morning,” you spoke softly, offering a polite smile.

“Morning,” Nanami replied, his voice low and steady. “I was about to make myself a simple breakfast. Coffee too.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. It was just a statement — a line drawn firmly down the middle.

You nodded. “That sounds good.”

You sat your bag down on the ottoman against the wall and followed his lead. The condo was quiet — too quiet, the kind that felt deliberate. Like he'd stripped the space of anything deemed unnecessary. A few trinkets here and there, clean lines, muted colors.. But the kitchen felt like the homeliest part of the space.

Black stainless steel appliances, cold press juicer and blender sitting on the counter. A top of the line built-in double electric convection wall oven, a display of every herb and spice on a dark mahogany shelf sitting high on the wall.

“You have a very beautiful kitchen.” Your eyes grazed over the quartz cabinets, taking in the light blue finishes until you landed on what you knew to be as the best stand mixer that only experts chefs and bakers would have.

“You have a Bosch… Its even more beautiful in person.” You inspected it as if it were a lost artifact seeing the light for the first time in 500 years.

Nanami cocked his head for a moment. “Are you that taken by a stand mixer?”

“Mr. Nanami, I’d have to work 3 weeks nonstop to not only get the mixer but to financially recover from it.”

Your half suppressed laugh had Kento smiling. “Understandable. It is a big purchase. I use to bake fresh bread for my weekly use.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration one day! Would love to see the Bosch in action.”

Nanami raised his brows. “You think I can get back to that one day?”

The small flick of something resembling hope flecked in the richest parts of his brown eyes.

“We can get you back to that. I’m sure of it.”

He nodded, a silent acceptance of an unspoken challenge. He opened the refrigerator, bearing his weight on the cane as he used his dominant hand to grab the butter, holding it out.

“Do you mind taking things as I pass them to you?”

You reached out, taking the butter and placing it on the counter. “Don’t mind at all.”

A pack of bacon, a jar of jam and an orange followed after and you awaited his next instruction.

“I’m going need your help with peeling orange. I believe I can manage the rest.”

With quiet acknowledgment, you grabbed the orange and began to peel as he placed 2 pieces of bacon in the skillet.

It took less than 10 minutes and Nanami moved to the dining table, a slice of toast placed next to his bacon on a plate and setting out a small dish of fruit with the addition of an apple now. You brought out 2 mugs of coffee, placing his in front of him and sitting across from him with yours.

A butter knife rested awkwardly beside the jar of jam he chose. It was clear he had intended to do more, but something had stopped him.

You didn’t move or say anything, you sipped your coffee and watched as he reached for the jar. His right hand gripped the jar while his left hovered over the lid. His fingers trembled — just slightly — but enough that the lid refused to budge.

You didn’t move at first. You’d quickly learned that Nanami wasn’t the type to appreciate overstepping, even if it came from a place of concern. So you waited, giving him the space to either push through the task or acknowledge the struggle.

After a long moment, his jaw tightened. The jar didn’t budge.

You opened your mouth — not to offer help, but simply to ask if he wanted you to hold the base of the jar steady when his voice cut through the silence.

“Can you…” He paused, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “Can you open this for me?”

It wasn’t a whisper, nor was it loud. Just a calm, measured request, but you could hear the effort behind it — the weight of a man who wasn’t used to asking for assistance.

You stood and went to his side of the table and gently placed your hand on the lid. “Turn when you’re ready.”

His hand dropped away, switching his left hand out for the right gripping the glass part and his left fingers curling into a loose fist at his side. The lid gave way with a soft pop, and you set it down in front of him without a word.

He didn’t thank you, but there was a small nod — barely noticeable, but it was there.

“Would you like me to slice the apple for you?” you asked, careful not to overstep.

Nanami shook his head. “No. I can manage.”

You sat back down, sipping your coffee as he asked you more questions about your fascination with his Bosch.

_______________________________________

The morning moved quickly. Breakfast cleanup was a breeze as Nanami continued his light reading and non rigorous solo exercises.

During breakfast, you’d been given what you called the key to the cupboard by Nanami. He uttered, with few words, that he didn’t want to prevent you from doing your job. While he limited what that might be, he was quick to say how appreciative he’d be if his bed could be made up, his laundry started and lunch done. He’d have a friend come by to do the rest.

You happily complied and began working on laundry the moment he sat down post breakfast. And by noon, his physical therapist had arrived to continue his exercise routine and mobility work.

Despite the pain he would occasionally feel from the intense stretches he felt near his ankles, this was Nanami’s favorite part of his rehabilitation. Feeling the tightness dissipate as he stretched his neck and chest together. He closed his eyes, allowing the PT to guide his body on top of the exercise ball.

“Now a slow exhale as you reach your arms over your head. Nice and easy.”

The short man moved the ball under Nanami and he grunted.

“Sorry Mr. Nanami, too much?”

Nanami wheezed a chuckle out, “Not enough. Can we do this one more often?”

The therapist exhaled and smiled. “We can. Your body is reacting as it needs to and it seems to be the best exercise to get a reaction out of you. Does it feel like your body is loosening up?”

He nodded, slowly sitting up with assistance. “Definitely. My skin feels less taut at my hips and chest when I open up my arms like that. It feels.. good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We’re going to finish off with some hands exercises then your aide will be tagged back in to finish the day off with you.”

His session proceeded and came to an end before he knew it. He walked with a bit more confidence as he escorted his therapist to the door and went to find you in the kitchen finishing lunch.

Nanami watched you sliced the cucumber. He nodded at the precision of the knife movements, impressed with how perfect each little sliced green disc was as you added it to the salad bowl. He waited to speak once you sat the knife down.

“You have some really great knife skills.”

You looked up and smiled, wiping your hand on the dish towel nearby. “4 years of cooking for a group of broke college students as a college student. 2 of those years were spent dating a sous chef who taught me some of what I know.”

“I’m sure this sous chef would be happy to know you use these techniques so well.”

“We could only hope,” Expertly, you avoided giving that a full response that would push the topic of your ex. “Where did you learn to cook, Mr. Nanami? I’m sure you are amazing with a Bosch in your kitchen.”

Nanami walked behind you, reaching for two bowls out of the cabinets and placed them next to you. “My grandfather wanted me to be self sufficient once I moved out on my own.” He slowly opened the silverware drawer, pulling out a pair of forks and knives. “And cooking in itself is its own therapy for me.”

You finished placing the grilled chicken in the salad bowl and handed over the tongs to Nanami. “How does cooking make you feel?”

He looked down at the tongs, his heart fluttering with an anxiety he couldn’t place. His eyes found you. “Do you think I can?”

“I’m right here,” you slid one of the eating bowls directly next to him and smiled. “What does cooking do for you?”

Nanami put his eyes back onto the salad and took a deep breath. He grabbed the tongs, gripping them, feeling the cold stainless steel rest in the part of his palm that still had feeling. “Cooking requires me to pay attention. Smell, sounds, how my food is looking.”

He widened the tongs, lowering them into the salad and tossing it lightly, as if he’d harm the lettuce if he placed any pressure.

“What do you usually cook with?” You noticed his hesitance in squeezing the tong tips together, his grip faltering as he exhaled from frustration. “I’m going to hover my hand below yours. Claw extension. Only if you need it.”

Nanami closed his eyes, slowly breathing out as he tried to not lose his momentum. “Garlic. Fresh minced garlic.” He tried again, slowly working his hands closed until he had salad gripped between the flat tips. He carefully moved it over to the dish, hand shaking but making it with no spillage. “I prefer to mince it and store it in water. Taste great every time.”

You smiled as he looked at you for a hint of validation and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

He moved the tongs back to the serving bowl with a glimmer of determination in the way he rolled his shoulders back. He grabbed more and placed it into the bowl, releasing a with a bit of force before sitting the tongs down. “I think I want a bit more tomato.”

Fork in hand, trying to pin down a slice of tomato so he could cut it. His right hand hovered awkwardly, meant to steady the cutting board, but his left — the one gripping the fork — trembled just enough to betray him.

The fork slipped.

The tomato skidded to the side, smearing juice across the surface. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

You didn’t speak either. You knew better than to rush in with help he hadn’t asked for yet.

He reset the slice, pressing the fork down again. His grip was too tight — his knuckles pale from the strain — but the tremor in his fingers wouldn’t let up. The fork scraped against the board, missing the tomato entirely this time.

A sharp pain ran through his forefinger and he dropped the fork, cursing under his breath as he massaged his purlicue.

His gaze stayed locked on the tomato, his shoulders tense.

“You did good. You and the tongs are quite the dynamic duo.”

Nanami felt a heated tear well in his eye before he sucked it back in. “This. Its all so hard sometimes. A fork? I can’t hold a damn fork and its been months.”

He needed to let the frustrations out. It was going to be the only way he could get over those hurdles to feeling whole again.

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him space to process and feel. “Don’t give yourself a timeline but do give yourself grace.”

“Is this all worth it?” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself until he took a few steps back and leaned against the counter looking at you. “Will I be the same person I was before all this? Because I feel like even when I’m giving 200%, I’m failing with no progress.”

“This feels like it’s never going to get better,” Nanami said, his voice low — almost too calm, but there was an edge to it. A rare crack in the carefully composed man standing next to you.

The words hung between you both, heavier than the silence.

You gave him a moment before you spoke. “It’s frustrating,” you said softly. “I know.”

Nanami’s jaw shifted, his lips pressing into a firm line. He didn’t respond right away, as if letting the admission sit out in the open was already more than he was prepared for.

His hand flexed at his side — open, then closed — before, at last, he exhaled through his nose. “Can you help me?”

The question was quiet, but it felt like a victory in its own right.

You nodded, letting him take a few steps forward before stepping in slowly so he had the chance to pull back if he wanted. When he didn’t, you picked up the fork, steadying the tomato with your other hand. The prongs sank into the skin with a soft pop — a simple act, but weighted with everything unspoken.

Nanami’s hand hovered near yours for a moment, then dropped back to his side.

He didn’t thank you, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave was enough.

You didn’t push for more words. Instead, you handed him the knife, stepping back just far enough to let him reclaim some of the space —he had let you stand just a little closer, and it was a sign that he was willing to let you in to help.

[ssentimentals]

Hi Nini! Thank you for doing prompts again! I loved reading them and enjoyed getting notifications when you did the last one. 🩵

Can I please request Prompt 40: Arranged Marriage with Wonwoo x Reader. He absolutely hates the idea of marrying reader, his cold standoffish and doesn’t want to get to know her at all as he thinks she’s like all the other Chaebol daughters his encountered. (Snobby, high maintenance, just wants fame, etc..) but a situation happens and he finds out she’s the total opposite of what he thought she was.

Thank you!!!

hi lovely! ah, this is so nice, thank you so much 💜 of course you can request, thank you for doing so, hopefully you'll like it!

prompt: arranged marriage

wonwoo has no hope, sadly. future with arranged marriage never looked bright for him and the fact that he's supposed to meet his future bride in an hour makes him annoyed at best and angry at worst. he doesn't want to act all high and mighty, but he lived his whole life in the chaebol society and he knows exactly what kind of person his future wife is. she probably has a very nice smile but it's fake and there's nothing behind it. she probably is intelligent, snobby and has perfect manners. she probably spends money like there's no tomorrow and knows everything about new fashion trends and nothing about any economical/societal matter. she probably is ignorant and shallow - she probably is nothing wonwoo can possibly fall in love with. and yes, looking for love in an arranged marriage is a naive thing, but is it so bad to wish to at least not hate the person you're going to tie your life with?

there's a small playground not far from the designated place of meeting and wonwoo goes there. it's around noon on sunday, sun is shining bright and plenty of kids are there, but he finds himself a quiet corner on the nearby bench. annoyance swims in his mind and he tries to calm down, watching kids; their carefree spirits never failed to put him in a better mood. he tries not to think of his future bride, tries not to picture how miserable his life is about to get and instead focuses on looking around. some boys are building sand castles, others are playing tag and then he notices one little girl standing at the top of the slide. even from this distance wonwoo can see how tight she's holding the railings, can feel how nervous she is. before he knows it he's up on his feet with an aim to help little out but someone is quicker than him. wonwoo pauses, watches as girl who's probably around his age walks over. he comes closer and listens to the gentle conversation, smiling at sincere kindness display in front of him.

'it's alright, sweetheart, i'm going to be right here. i will catch you, you don't have to worry about it,' the girl says in a warm tone.

'i will help her catch you,' wonwoo steps closer, smiling to the little girl who still looks hesitant. 'so don't be scared.'

'or you can always turn back,' you offer after few seconds, when the girl doesn't reply. 'it's okay if you don't want to-'

'i want to,' little girl interrupts, puffing her cheeks in the cutest way.

wonwoo chuckles and turns to you right when you also turn to him. beautiful eyes, he thinks. beautiful smile. you take few steps back, standing now right at the end of the slide. wordlessly you reach out to wonwoo, who readily takes your offered hand and also moves to the end of the slide. you smile at wonwoo and then turn back to the girl: 'look, we are both here. we will catch you, darling. we will never let you fall.'

beautiful soul. in the end, you both cheer when you get an armful of a happy squealing girl. she does it again and again and all the times you both catch her, laughing along. it's the happiest wonwoo felt in months and when girl's mother comes to get her daughter, he's almost disappointed. time flew quickly too, he's got only ten minutes to not be late for the meeting and- he doesn't want to go. he also doesn't want to lose you just like that- 'um, sorry, wait,' he calls, when you turn to go. 'i just- i was wondering if we could maybe-'

'i'm so sorry but i can't,' you reply hurriedly, looking sad.

oh. of course someone like you is already taken, what was he thinking? wonwoo nods and wishes you well... only to walk in the same direction as you. when you enter the same building, he realizes that it looks like he's some freaking stalker. 'i promise i also need to be here,' he mutters, when you both enter the same elevator. 'i'm not, like, stalking you.'

you let out a nervous laugh. 'uh-huh. i hope so.'

god, you two are even going to the same floor. it's a rather popular business center so wonwoo doesn't think much off it but when you both turn in the same direction, he slowly realizes that-

'oh my god,' you pauses, looking at him with wide eyes. 'you're- you are jeon wonwoo. the one i'm-'

'supposed to marry? yeah.' wonwoo finishes, knowing that he is smiling like a fool. 'that's me.'

it's crazy. feels like a dream or something straight out of the movies. you both laugh in disblief and when wonwoo opens the door and holds it for you, when you both enter the room with your lawyers already present, when you smile at him timidly and blush, looking away- wonwoo realizes that this is not a dream. it's all real. and maybe future with arranged marriage can be bright if it will have you in it.

a/n: this trope truly is my kryptonite.. hopefully you liked it! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[dimonds456-art]

PLEASE GIVE US THE OLD MAN RAMIREZ LORE!!!

GLADLY

I have two other asks like this and I wanna answer them each independently so get ready fghdsjka

Soos worked alongside Dipper in the 80s, at first acting just as a friend and adventuring partner. While Dipper moved to Gravity Falls, Soos is a native and working as a janitor in the elementary school at the time.

They met at the arcade, where Dipper was trying to find a ghost haunting one of the machines, and he found very quickly that Soos was not only a good partner, but also a good friend. They bonded pretty fast after that.

Dipper was mostly chasing ghosts, but he would take interest in other anomalies as well, leading him to writing down and sketching this weird grafiti he found in a cave once, then translating it once he got home. While he heeded the warning not to read it aloud, Soos... didn't. Dipper yelled at him over it, fearing the worst, but then nothing happened, so whatever. Weird cave drawing.

That night, Soos meets Bill Cipher.

Bill was not as patient as he was with Ford in canon. Here, he told Soos about a dimension with all the answers only a couple months into their friendship, IF that long. Soos had the technical know-how to build it, and Bill gave him the blueprints one at a time in his sleep. Then, to avoid suspicion since they both knew Dipper would assume Bill was a malicious entity, Bill had him put those blueprints outside Dipper's door for him to wake up to, making him think a cryptid was helping him, thus giving him confirmation bias about that other dimension of weirdness.

Portal test happens, Soos gets pulled through, and he puts two and two together. He tells Dipper immediately about what he saw, which lead to him confessing everything. Dipper rightfully got mad at him for lying, which caused Soos to run. But at this point, he'd made a possession deal with Bill, and Bill uses Soos' body to torment Dipper.

Soos, wracked with guilt, immerses himself in the arcade. He plays games in a form of avoidance, eventually getting addicted to them as McGucket did the memory gun.

There is one game in particular, however, that was more addicting than the others. I'm picturing it as a bit of a sim, which IS strange for an arcade. This game talks directly to Soos, telling him that life would be better in a video game, to which he agrees. Things tend to just work out that way.

Over the next few months/years, the game takes pieces from Soos and transfers them into the game itself. Soos doesn't notice at first, only feeling more and more lost and depressed, especially after he goes to check on Dipper only to find him missing...? And yeah, of course he wants to search for his friend, but he not only doesn't trust himself anymore, but he also feels that pull back to the cabinet and just makes his situation worse.

After a while, the game asks him again if he would like to become a video game, to which he says yes. The game then offers to transfer the rest of him inside, and Soos freaks out. He didn't mean it literally, even if it still doesn't sound too bad...? But the change freaks him out too bad, and he refuses.

The game tries to do it anyway, resulting in a torn sense of self. Old Man Ramírez is that result, his entire life being viewed as a video game. He's unable to take anything more seriously than one would a plot point IN a game, and he often dissociates and daydreams when he's not actively running around looking for loot.

See, it turns out the ghost Dipper was looking for way back when? The ghost they caught was unrelated. There was still a different ghost inside the arcade machine, a ghost named Giffany. And Giffany refuses to let Soos go.

This brings us to modern day, when the Stan twins find out that Ramírez worked with the Author. They are able to figure out that Soos is in the machine, and dive in to look for him. Once they do find him, he rejects the machine and declares he's never gonna play a game again, before backtracking and admitting he might every now and then, but never to the point that he stops living again. They all escape, and though Soos is still extremely disoriented and needs to re-learn how to be a person, he starts being able to heal.

And yeah, in that "episode," part of the B plot is that everyone else's bodies are running around, reduced to their basic personalities intertwined with video game tropes. So like, Stan loves adventuring and causing trouble, so he just starts doing that and "scoring points" while doing it. Ford, who loves mysteries, starts basically dong escape rooms. Idk who else is there but Grauntie Mabel is trying to keep all the bodies together to make the transfer back easier.

Basically, instead of the memory gun, it's video games, and specifically Giffany. Soos becomes avoidant, thinking Dipper doesn't wanna see him, and feeling incredibly guilty over the Bill thing. His soul basically split from his body and it's kind of a metaphor for getting lost in the sauce, for lack of a better phrase fdshjk

[odileeclipse]

Wait if pure vanilla is good with kids...is shadow milk also good with kids because of his showmanship and probably wanting to make the kids laugh? Or would he mirror pure vanilla and be bad with kids?

A Game of Favorites

A/N I think he would be excellent with kids if it means being better than Pure Vanilla.

You sat cross-legged in the grass, watching as Pure Vanilla Cookie knelt before you with his ever-gentle smile. "I’m happy you wanted to spend time with me," he said warmly. "Would you like to grow flowers with magic? Or perhaps read a story together?" Before you could answer, a familiar, smug voice cut in. "Ugh, how unbearably dull." Shadow Milk Cookie leaned lazily against a tree, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Flowers? Stories? Really? Must you always be so… predictable?" Pure Vanilla sighed. "Shadow Milk, what are you doing here?" Shadow Milk grinned, stepping closer. "Why, young cookie," he addressed you, ignoring Pure Vanilla entirely, "surely you'd prefer real entertainment over his soft, glowy nonsense." He snapped his fingers, and a small shadowy puppet of yourself appeared, mimicking your every move before dissolving into wisps of light. "Now that is magic." You gasped. "That was so cool!"

Pure Vanilla chuckled. "Would you like to try magic yourself?" He gently guided your hands, and, with his help, a tiny glowing butterfly flickered into existence. It wobbled in the air, but it was yours. "See? Magic can be gentle and warm, too." Shadow Milk huffed. "Oh, please." He leaned down, whispering, "Would you like to see something even cooler?" You nodded eagerly. With a wave of his hand, a floating mirror appeared—except the reflection showed you in a magnificent royal cape, standing before a cheering audience. "Behold!" Shadow Milk declared. "The future of the greatest Cookie who ever lived!" Your eyes sparkled. "Whoa…" Pure Vanilla sighed, amused. "Aren’t you setting expectations a little high?"

Shadow Milk smirked. "He’s just mad because he’s losing." Pure Vanilla turned to you, smiling. "Well, what do you think? Which do you like better?" You tapped your chin, then grinned. "I like both!" Shadow Milk froze. "Both?!" Pure Vanilla chuckled. "That’s a wonderful answer." You giggled. "Pure Vanilla’s magic makes me feel happy. But Shadow Milk’s is exciting and fun!" You stretched your arms wide. "So I pick both!" Shadow Milk groaned dramatically. "Fine, fine! You have… some taste." Pure Vanilla patted your head. "Then I suppose we both win." Shadow Milk huffed but smirked. "Enjoy it while you can, Pure Vanilla. I will try again." Pure Vanilla only smiled. "I wouldn’t expect anything less." And with that, you sat between them as the sun set, basking in the attention of two Cookies one ever-patient, the other ever-scheming both determined to outdo each other just for you.

A/N so sorry for fulfilling the request so late I hope you enjoy! <3

[snowball-doie]

✮⋆˙ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ˙⋆✮

| pairing: johnny x manager!oc

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Tooth-aching fluff.

Aurora wondered if it was too late to jump ship.

After waking up hungover in Yuta's bed with no recollection of how she got there, she wondered how she could’ve possibly said yes to going on a date with Johnny Suh. And how was that the only thing she could remember? Granted, she wasn’t drunk at the time, though she wished she was so she had an excuse to not go… But everyone and their grandmother was talking about how Johnny finally asked out Aurora and she actually said yes to it! Her headache was killing her, but that was not the problem. The problem was Johnny already texting her, asking if she wanted to go out not that night but the following night… for dinner…

“Ah, fuck me,” Aurora groaned, throwing herself back down against the mattress.

Yuta walked into the room, shirtless, a smoothie in one hand while the other was tucked into the waistband of his pajama shorts to keep it warm. Men. Aurora rolled her eyes— She was surrounded by men. Disgusting, run-of-the-mill men.

“Ohaiyo,” he said.

She glared at him. “I blame you.”

“What did I do?”

“I don’t know, but I blame you.”

“Okay, well, while you do that, do you want breakfast?”

“No. I have to figure out what I’m gonna do about this.” She turned her phone to show him her screen, but without his glasses on he couldn’t see anything from such a distance, so while squinting and leaning forward, he approached the bed then took her phone to read Johnny's texts. “I’m going back to sleep and never waking up.”

Yuta scoffed. “I love that you can tell Ten helped him write these.” He handed her phone back. She raised a confused brow. “They went home together last night.” She shrugged. “He was way too drunk to text you a coherent sentence like that.”

“Yuta-kun, please convince me this is all a bad idea.”

“He’s a good guy, and he’s down bad for you, I don’t see the harm in giving him a chance, oneesan.”

She groaned and kicked her feet around like a kid throwing a tantrum. “You’re not helpful!”

Sipping his smoothie, Yuta started walking out of the bedroom again with a final comment about how he was going to cook something for her to eat because they needed to go shopping. Shopping? Why shopping? “Because you’re not going on your first-ever date looking like that,” he replied all the way from the kitchen. What was that supposed to mean!

Yet there they were, at Hyundai mall, Yuta hiding under a million layers of clothes to keep himself warm but also to protect himself from anyone that would recognize him as he chauffeured Aurora around the place. He was a man on a mission, searching for the best stores with the cutest clothes that he thought Johnny would like to see on her. She couldn’t imagine that. She knew Johnny, but not well enough to assume what he’d like on her… But Yuta had known Johnny for nearly a decade, he’d seen various girls come and go out of Johnny's life, and he heard all the praises and complaints Johnny had to give about each of them. He liked neutral tones, apparently. While Aurora was more inclined to wear pink, she wasn’t opposed to the thought of wearing the cream colored sweater and brown sweatpants Yuta made her try on.

“No,” he immediately said once she stepped out of the dressing room.

“Why!”

“It doesn’t fit you right.”

“It fits me just fine.”

“Sure, it fits you, but it doesn’t fit you right.”

Aurora stared at him. “Nihongo.” She crossed her arms and stared at him flatly, almost glaring at him if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately grabbed her wrists to push her hands back down to her sides.

In Japanese, he explained perfectly that Aurora looked best while wearing things that fit her slimly on the top with high waisted pants that were tight around her waist yet bell-bottomed. “You’ve got tits for a reason, show them off. And you’ve got big hips and ass, you don’t want all of that to hide you like a tent in the shirts you wear.”

“It’s too cold outside to wear a crop top,” Aurora argued after she put on the next outfit for him to see. A black crop top with the same brown sweatpants. “I’ll freeze to death before I even make it to his place.”

“Yeah, but you look sexy.”

Aurora rolled her eyes.

Yuta bought the outfit for her as an apology for secretly betting against her and Johnny. After seeing the total at the cash register, Aurora really had no complaints when it came to Yuta tapping his black card against the scanner, because she couldn’t wrap her brain around how a black crop top sweater and brown sweatpants could cost nearly $300 USD. That was why she didn’t shop at Hyundai mall or Lotte World mall, though. Her income didn’t give her many opportunities to even go window shopping at the various luxury stores around Seoul which all of the boys at work always raved over. If she were back in America, she knew that she would have found the same outfit at Walmart or Target for approximately $50 USD— And even then she would’ve considered putting it all back on the racks.

Yuta wanted to spend the day at the mall even after settling on an outfit. Aurora was too worried about being seen, so she convinced him to at least leave the touristy area surrounding the mall so they could instead get lunch somewhere together where they weren’t as likely to run into fans. She was right, of course. No one said a thing as they entered the dak-galbi restaurant and were seated at a table against the wall. No one bothered them as they ordered and ate. The only time anything happened was when the owner came over to deliver their receipt, she asked if Yuta would sign something for her daughter who was a big fan of NCT. With a smile, Yuta nodded before taking a clean paper napkin where he wrote a note and signed his name on it before handing it over to the owner— along with his credit card for the meal. She bowed deeply at the hip while thanking him profusely. “My daughter loves you. Thank you so much.” Yuta shrugged it off with a laugh, “It’s really no problem.”

At a nearby cafe, no one bothered them at all, not even for a signature or to snap a photo from across the room. For a couple of hours, Aurora and Yuta sat across from each other, drinking matcha, talking about work, missing Japan, the new album, when and where they would go on their next vacation, and Aurora’s date with Johnny.

“Do you think you’ll kiss him?” Yuta asked with a smirk.

Aurora rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Not even if he’s a perfect gentleman who walks you all the way to your door after dinner?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Why? You have another bet on that or something?”

Yuta rolled his eyes too. “Fair enough… Are you at least nervous?”

Of course she was fucking nervous! How could he ask such a stupid question when he’d caught her regretting her entire life after waking up hungover in his bed, asking if she could find any way to get out of the whole thing. Aurora had never been out on a proper, official date with anyone, and it was Johnny Suh whom had asked her out, so those two factors mixed together made Aurora’s stomach queasy, and the matcha wasn’t helping, so she got up to order a croissant to help settle herself.

“It’s cute to see the two of you like this,” Yuta admitted after she sat back down.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… Not ‘in love’, but something like that.”

“Yeah, maybe let’s hold off on the L word ‘til after the first date.”

Yuta reached over to pick a bite off of Aurora’s croissant until she smacked his hand away and muttered something about his diet and not wanting to get yelled at by his trainer. Aurora picked the bite off for him then, out of pity, fed it to him.

“So when are you going to ‘not in love, but something like that’ with someone, Yuta-kun? You can’t just always bully me. I need an excuse to tease you too.”

“Maybe if our schedules weren’t so busy I’d be able to go out and meet someone.”

“Ha ha. I’m being serious.”

Yuta shrugged and stretched his arms over his head with a slight groan. Once he settled again, he slumped in his chair. “I promise, oneesan, when I find someone, you’ll be the first to know, then you can get back at me for all of this.”

“Deal.”

Aurora didn’t sleep that night because of her upset stomach. She really had half a mind about texting Johnny to tell him that she didn’t feel well and would have to cancel their date, yet every time she picked up her phone and saw Johnny's excited message that read: “I can’t wait” in response to her confirming their date, she couldn’t bear the thought of flaking on him after all the effort he’d put into catching her attention just to ask her out after getting a little bit of that liquid courage in him. So she remained restless in her bed while counting down the hours until the sun would come up and she’d at least have an excuse to sit at her desk and play video games with Haechan or something until she would have to leave to see Johnny.

In the early hours of the morning, around the time Aurora elected to get ready for a long day of gaming, Johnny texted her while she was showering to ask if she was alright with having the date at his house. Her stomach did another uncomfortable somersault while reading that. Who did he think she was? There was no way he thought that it would be that freaking easy to coax her into his bed! After all that time of Ten and Yuta reassuring her that Johnny wasn’t the playboy guy anymore and was indeed really down bad for Aurora, he was just proving to be a little bit of a fuck boy.

Aurora immediately made it clear that she wasn’t looking to fuck, so if he was inviting her over with that in mind, then he could just forget about it and pretend that the whole thing never happened. However, Johnny insisted that he was only doing it because he had a fun at-home-activity they could do together since it would be hard to go out and be comfortable. If they went somewhere, he would have had to cover up completely, they would’ve had to stay separated from each other so as to not stir rumors if the media saw them, and they would’ve always had to be on their guard about who was around and who was looking at them. It wouldn’t have been fun. He wanted it to be perfect, and by being at home, they could actually hang out and talk honestly. So she decided to give it a shot and go over. Typically she wouldn't have taken someone up on an at-home first date because of all the horror stories she heard— But Aurora had known Johnny long enough, and they had far too many mutual friends for anything bad to happen. She trusted that it would be okay.

It was the first time she had ever been over to his place. When they became close, it was during lockdown, so they never visited each other, and after the pandemic’s peak passed and they returned to work, there just wasn’t any time for Aurora to invite him over to her place or think about stopping by his. Besides, she thought they were friends, but not like that. So when she arrived at his apartment building after taking a train and then a bus, she stopped. There was a gate surrounding the entire property of luxury apartment buildings which prevented just anyone from coming and going, so she had to buzz in using Johnny's apartment number and a code that he gave her via text an hour before she left her own apartment; and once she was inside the building, she felt sick. Did he really make that much money? She knew how much the boys made off of NCT work, but it was never enough to sustain having a place that nice, so it must have been all those side hustles of his, modeling and whatnot.

Aurora checked the apartment’s floor number when she got in the elevator. That couldn’t be right… Right? She pressed the button, but she doubted herself as the doors closed and she began ascending floor by floor, higher up into the air until it stopped and the doors opened. The hallway was nice. Not gross, moldy, decrepit. White and clean, almost like it had been freshly painted even though it hadn’t— But that just went to show the difference between the type of lifestyle Johnny could afford versus Aurora who warily walked down the hallway until she reached Johnny's door.

Was it really, really too late to jump ship?

Before she knew it, Aurora had rang the doorbell and moments later the door opened to reveal Johnny who seemed a bit flustered and out of breath when he saw her. He relaxed and smiled, like his body was telling her, “Oh, it’s just you.” In fact, he practically said it himself when he welcomed her in and said, “I thought you were the caterers. You’re a bit early.”

Aurora blushed as she stood awkwardly in his entryway, unsure of what to do with herself, meanwhile Johnny walked further into his apartment to set up some stuff. “Sorry, I just… I like to be early rather than late. People being late’s a pet peeve of mine.”

He peeked his head around the corner. “I know.”

He flashed a cheeky smile before disappearing again, prompting Aurora to take off her shoes so that she could follow him, but after taking a step forward, she remembered that she should find a place for her jacket and purse to be polite, so she awkwardly settled back in the entryway and stared at the wall of hooks next to her. Johnny had a lot of jackets. Various colors, weights, lengths, and purposes for occasions like going somewhere fancy versus just walking to the office. There was one empty hook in the middle of it all, so Aurora dared herself to just go for it. She peeled off her jacket then hung it up before securing it with her purse hung over top.

“You fine with waiting a few more minutes ‘til the caterers show?” he asked.

Aurora turned the corner to find Johnny in his kitchen, cleaning up the counter space so that there would be room for whatever food he was having brought directly to them. She nodded and shrugged. “Sure.”

After seeing him in his element, which was his home, Aurora found herself relaxing a bit upon realizing that she wasn’t underdressed at all. She worried that Yuta might have accidentally set her up to fail with such a casual outfit for a first date, however Johnny was just as comfortable as she was. He was wearing just a black t-shirt and grey pants— Nothing fancy at all. Yuta made the right call, Aurora would have to remember to thank him later.

But then of course, timing was seemingly on their side as the doorbell rang again, prompting Johnny to jog around Aurora in order to answer it. She continued to linger awkwardly. Wasn’t he supposed to be the lingerer? What was she doing? She felt stupid.

As the caterers entered, Johnny directed them towards the kitchen using Korean before quickly telling Aurora in English that she should make herself comfortable— Which really meant that she was in the way and needed to sit down so that they could work in peace. So she listened, shyly making her way to his couch which she sat on just barely… Lounging entirely felt weird. She would've been even more uncomfortable if she ended up reclining, so she called it good by sitting with just her butt and a bit of her thighs on the cushions, and that was it. Johnny made sure the staff of three people knew what they were doing before he stilled in the middle of the kitchen and glanced in Aurora’s direction with a bright smile that said: “Okay, we’re good.” When he was ready, he joined her on the couch.

“Do I want to ask, or…” Aurora gestured with her eyes in the direction of the kitchen.

Johnny peeked over his shoulder to watch the staff who were platting some finger foods and pouring wine in glasses Johnny had on hand. “You know those, like, mug painting places in the States?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not as popular here, but this company provides private catering and mug painting dates, if that makes sense.”

Well, she was witnessing the set up first hand, so it did indeed make sense. While they sat and ate some snacks that were catered for them, the company set up Johnny's dining room table with all of the paints, brushes, and mugs so that they didn’t have to lift a finger outside of just sitting and painting together. Watching the whole thing, Aurora knew it was an expensive date. Far more than if it had just been the two of them at a restaurant or at a movie theater— Even if he had rented it out completely. But she also understood that he wanted something at home to maintain their privacy, and that doing something like watching a Netflix movie while eating a delivered pizza wasn’t exactly special. Hell, Johnny never really gave her the vibe of “casual dates”. He always came off as the type of guy that would go all in to impress his partner, which she undeniably found appealing…

“Did you find my apartment alright?”

Aurora nodded. “I figured I was in the right place when I was shell shocked by how expensive the building looks.”

Johnny chuckled at her. “Yuta lives in a nice place, too. Same with Taeyong.”

“Yeah, but not like this…” She glanced around his living room one more time to catch a glimpse of the book titles he had on his shelf. “Do you read a lot? Besides manga, I mean.”

“Depends… I’m usually too busy to get invested, and when I do have time to read something, I’d rather spend it on manga you recommend.”

Aurora blushed while still looking away from him, so she spent another minute collecting herself before she settled back in her seat to look at him. “You should get hobbies besides what I think.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Sillyehamnida” one of the employees shyly called from the empty walkway between the kitchen and the living room. Johnny turned to face them. “Everything’s ready.”

Johnny stood and bowed gratefully. “Gamsahabnida.”

They bowed in return, not saying a word, until they scurried to the exit with the other staff members, at which point they all bowed again and told Johnny and Aurora to enjoy themselves. They left as quickly as they had initially appeared. Once the door was shut and locked, Johnny inspected the state of his dining table and kitchen. The dining table had plates for dinner, silverware, and wine glasses set at place settings across from each other, meanwhile the mugs, paintbrushes, and paints with caps screwed on were set to the side for whenever they wanted to paint. As for the kitchen, they’d set up a catering pan across two of the stovetops which were set to low to keep the food warm, and there was a pot of sauce beside it.

“I requested pesto tortellini since I know you like it,” he told her as he sniffed the pesto sauce. Smiling contently, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

She could eat, yeah. She was more concerned with the idea of how he knew he liked pesto tortellini when it was such a niche meal she didn’t have too often because it wasn’t a popular thing in Korea. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last time she had it. Maybe when they were in France a couple of years ago and she wandered into a touristy place with Yuta and Taeyong in search of Italian food… in France…

So while Aurora sat at the dining table, Johnny grabbed their plates to spoon the pasta onto. From her spot at the table, she could see that there was fresh garlic bread and a salad too on the other countertop, so Johnny made sure to get plenty of that for her as well.

“Wine?” she offered.

“Please.”

She opened the bottle of red wine on the table in front of her before pouring half a glass for Johnny first then a little less than half for herself. Curious, she lifted her glass up to her nose to swirl and smell the wine. Expensive. That was her first thought, that it smelled expensive because of the hints of chocolate and cherry aromas which countered the fact that the wine had been aged a long time. Between the smell of pesto, garlic, and wine, Aurora couldn’t help but feel oddly flattered— Or perhaps wooed, if people even used that word anymore.

Johnny served Aurora first to make sure that he’d done everything to her liking before he sat down across from her, at which point he fidgeted with his own plate, wine glass, and all of the paints on the table in order to make sure everything was perfect, just the way he wanted in order to impress her properly. Aurora tried to hide her grin. It really was funny seeing the usually confident and nonchalant Johnny Suh struggle with trying to go above and beyond for silly old Aurora.

They spent the next two hours talking. Honestly, it didn’t even feel like two hours to Aurora, but it had indeed been that long from the moment she entered the apartment. The meal passed quickly because it tasted good and also because the company was enjoyable. Johnny was funny as per usual. He made Aurora laugh with the stupidest jokes imaginable, and he always smiled when he managed to get a laugh out of her even when she tried so hard to keep a straight face in order to not let him think that he was actually funny otherwise it would get to his head. Too late. It was like every other time they had chatted on Discord while playing video games or at work when he was trying to linger, the only difference was that there was a hint of flirting in the way they spoke to each other while under the pretense of being there for a date. Aurora wasn’t quite sure how first dates were supposed to go, but she decided to treat it like she was testing the waters. Did she actually like Johnny like… that? Yes. Did they have chemistry? Absolutely. Could she bear the thought of going on a second date with someone who had the same humor as the ahjussis? If that was part of the package deal that came with Johnny Suh, then alright.

In the two hours that they talked, Johnny moved their dinner plates to the counter top to make space for them to paint their mugs. Aurora was honestly the worst when it came to things like that. All of her creativity flew out the window any time she had a paintbrush in front of her, so she spent the first few minutes sipping her wine while waiting to see what Johnny would do. Much to her surprise, he went for the pink first. Knowing him and reflecting on what Yuta said about Johnny's favorite colors, pink was the last thing she expected him to do to paint his mug. He didn’t say anything to tease the look on her face as he painted. He just continued on with the conversation like nothing was amiss… So she took a paintbrush and dipped into the green to draw some drop vines from the lip of the mug.

“One of these days I want to take my mom to South America or something. She doesn’t get many opportunities to travel the world like we do, but I really think she would enjoy it, you know? She likes food, and she likes to sight see. It’s not really my thing… But I like doing those things with her because it makes me appreciate the little things in life.”

“Like what?” Aurora asked as she washed her brush.

“Going to random restaurants in the middle of a new city and sitting there, people-watching. No matter where you are in the world, people are always going to be people. Adults running to meetings that they’re late for. Families playing with their kids who are discovering things for the first time. Couples falling in love. Old people feeding birds.” Johnny laughed to himself. “I get to see all of that while getting to appreciate the fact that I’m privileged enough to take my mom to see those things in different corners of the world.”

“Is this your way of telling me to put Brazil on the next tour?”

“Chile, too.”

“Oh, yes, can’t forget Chile.” Aurora also chuckled quietly before putting all of her focus into painting a black cat beside the handle of the mug.

Johnny looked up briefly to ask her, “Is there anywhere in the world you’re dying to go to?”

Aurora took a moment to consider while still silently painting. She’d been to plenty of places ever since she started working with NCT 127. They’d been all over the United States— As if she hadn’t already done that while growing up— They went to Central America, a city or two in Argentina, and they bounced around Europe so much that Aurora could never remember which city they were in every morning when she woke up during press tours.

“The Maldives… If I win the lottery some day…”

Johnny cleaned his brush then set it to the side to indicate that he was finished. “I don’t know if you could convince the execs to put on a show there.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

They both laughed.

“If you win the lottery, would you take Yuta with you?” he questioned.

Aurora put her paintbrush down too and spun her mug slowly to make sure there wasn’t anything she needed to fix or add. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If there’s someone who also likes to people watch who’d want to go with me.”

To that, Johnny didn’t say anything, but he bit his lip to stop himself from grinning as Aurora peeked up at him through her lashes.

“Alright, let’s see the Mona Lisa’s competition,” Aurora said. Johnny immediately scooped his mug up and hid it under the table. “What—” She leaned down to look, but Johnny lifted it back up over the table. She sat up again. “John—” He hid it under the table a second time. Aurora squinted at him, “Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s for you.”

“That’s not fair!” she protested.

He whined back at her, “Why not?”

“‘Cause I made mine for you too, but I was gonna show you.”

Johnny laughed. “It’s cute,” he said, gesturing to her mug. “I like it.”

She’d painted a mug which she figured fit his minimalist aesthetic yet had details of how she viewed him. The green vines were pretty on brand for Johnny, but the small sunflowers that hung from them were just her way of reminding him how nice his tattoo was, and the black cat trying to climb onto the handle was playful and cute like he was. She liked the idea of him being the black cat because he really wasn’t anything like that— Sure, he could be quiet and mischievous. Sure, he could get grumpy like that. However, Aurora thought he was just cute like those cats that tried to act tough until they inevitably gave in and cuddled up with their owner. The hope was to design something cute enough that Johnny wouldn’t want to hide it in the back of his cabinet, which was why she wanted to show it off to him with the intent to get a live-reaction so that she could change something last second if he didn’t like it, yet he was being that mischievous black cat again by refusing to let her see the mug he’d secretly made for her. No wonder he went for the pink first!

“So then show me the one you made for me—” She tried to sneak a peek under the table again, but Johnny continued to elude her. She huffed. “If it’s for me, I’ll see it eventually.”

“Yeah, when it’s glazed and everything.”

“You’re difficult.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

When they were done painting their mugs and drinking their wine, the caterers returned to take them so that they could be put into the kiln at their office; and once they were glazed and fired, they would be delivered back to Johnny directly so that he didn’t have to be inconvenienced by picking them up from their office. It was a good business plan. Aurora could tell why they charged so much and why the celebrities were jumping at every chance they could get to hire them.

Against expectations, Johnny invited Aurora to stay a little longer by joining him on the couch to talk some more while drinking the little bit of wine he had left in his fridge. Just talking! That was what he insisted. So she decided to stay until she at least felt tipsy enough that maybe the thought of kissing him was overwhelming.

“You did not!” he exclaimed through a loud laugh.

“Shut up! It’s embarrassing as it is without you making fun of me!”

Johnny held his stomach as he laughed so hard it hurt. “After all… After all this time… I thought you’d never done anything embarrassing in your entire life—” He nearly toppled off the couch.

“Says the one who does some stupid shit on live TV every week.”

“Yeah, but I never threw a tantrum at five years old and hit my head against the floor on purpose to make a point!”

Aurora rolled her eyes and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “I never should’ve told you that story.”

“I’ll make it up to you by telling you something embarrassing about me, you just gotta prompt me.”

“Prompt you?”

“Yeah, like what do you want to know about me?”

Without an ounce of hesitancy, she finally decided to bite the bullet by asking him what had been on her mind for months.

“So how come you’ve been so adamant about keeping your hair long and blonde these days? I thought you liked it short so you fit in more.”

Johnny picked up his glass of wine. “‘Cause you like it.”

So there it was, the answer Aurora and her friends had anticipated for months yet were too scared to poke at. Honestly, she was surprised that Johnny would even admit to it in the first place. Didn’t he have any shame? Surely it was somewhat embarrassing to tell her that he spent months and months growing his hair out and dying it just so that he could get her attention because he was really just waiting for the perfect moment to ask her out… But no. Johnny wore it like a badge of pride, which was also understandable considering his plan worked.

“But do you like it?”

He smiled. “I do. It’s not what I’m used to, but the compliments are nice, and it’s something for me to take care of rather than just waking up and mindlessly running a comb through it before racing to work.” He drank. “I think this has been my favorite era so far, just between the group I’m with, the song, the dance, and actually getting to participate more— Thank you for that, by the way—”

Aurora blushed.

“The hair just makes it perfect, in my opinion.” He finished his glass then set it down without bothering to refill it. “That’s not embarrassing, though.”

She didn’t find humor in embarrassing him, however, regardless of the fact that he was being a good sport about it in order to ease her mind about oversharing stories from her childhood. When she didn’t give into his lead-on, Johnny decided to just go for it himself.

“I got one. When I was ten, and I was still in America, I was sleeping over at my friend’s house for a weekend so we could go to this Star Wars marathon at the local movie theater, and in the middle of the night, I woke up because I felt, like, oddly wet, you know? So when I sat up, I saw that my friend’s cat had been on my chest, peeing all over me—”

Aurora stifled a laugh.

“He dug his claws into my shirt when I tried to push him off! And he just kept going! Like, come on, man, take me to dinner first or something!”

Aurora couldn’t hold back any more. Through her laughter, she told him, “That’s way worse than my story.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a satisfied grin, “but it made you laugh.”

Without really thinking anything of it in the moment, Aurora reached out to push his shoulder to say, Shut up, but she quickly remembered in the moments following that she wasn’t with Yuta or Taeyong, and she wasn’t sitting on Johnny's couch as his friend but as his date. Suddenly she was embarrassed all over again. However, Johnny didn’t make note of it or even tease her further, he just navigated the topic easily onto the next question in order to see what else he could learn about Aurora. She said he hardly knew her, right? Well, what was a date if not the opportunity to learn everything about her?

Johnny was the first to say something when he noticed that Aurora was getting tired yet was too shy to interrupt the flow of their conversation. He checked the clock on his living room mantle, then double checked his watch, and once he’d concluded it was late enough, he asked Aurora how she was planning on getting home. She shrugged and said the same way she arrived: public transportation. When he laughed at that and pulled out his phone, Aurora was mildly confused all the way up until the point where he admitted he called a taxi for her and that it would be outside of his building in the next seven minutes, giving them plenty of time to wrap up their evening properly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she insisted, feeling guilty.

“There’s no way I can let you go home on the bus in this weather and this late at night. I invited you over, I should be responsible for seeing you home safely, even if I can’t go with you.”

Aurora knew there was no argument she could make against that, so she simply smiled and thanked him with a slight bow of her head.

“I’ll see you out.”

They stood in unison, Aurora heading to the coat hangers to retrieve her winter coat and purse. Johnny didn’t grab anything to keep himself warm. However, he made sure to step around her to open the door wide enough for both of them to step out, his arm above her head while his grip didn’t waver. It was perhaps the first time she ever truly noticed how tall he was, at least in comparison to her and within the context of being on a date with him. On their walk to the elevator, Aurora realized why Johnny didn’t bundle up. She had to go down alone because they couldn’t be seen together, so he at least saw her to the elevator like a gentleman.

“Listen, I, uh…” He grinned to hide his shyness. “Thanks for coming over… For, uh, giving me a chance.”

“Well, all-rounder, it was impossible to not give you a chance after you spent so long drooling over me.”

“I wouldn’t call it drooling.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

They laughed together. He looked really happy that night, more so than she’d ever seen him, which made her smile never waver. That smile of his only wavered when the elevator dinged and Aurora stepped in, signaling the end of their night together.

“Next time, you should come visit my place,” she told him.

Johnny's face brightened up at the fact that she proposed there would be a next time. He nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.”

The elevator doors began closing. “See you tomorrow, all-arounder.” Before he could think to reply, Aurora was on her way down.

taglist: @tiredlittlevirgo , @henderysposts , @trash-number-one , @mystverse , @strawberryax0lotl , @hisunflower , @alili-milidoy , @junrenjun , @slayhaechan

[hollowbingbong]

Hey tumblr I need help finding a Naruto fanfic about iruka. Basically Naruto tells iruka he lost the headband he gave him and how sorry he was, iruka is like "then it did it's job" cuz it's a forehead protector after all. And how iruka can't protect Naruto anymore but he can do this and gives Naruto a new headband (ie his own again), later after Naruto leaves kakashi appears and gives iruka his own headband so iruka will always be safe even when kakashi isn't there mirroring iruka's words to Naruto

I can't remember if it was on AO3 or Fanfiction.note but it's either or

Edit: IT'S BEEN FOUND YIPPE! ty @virtualcarrot and @camilita-ita-ita for finding it!!

Here's a link to the fic for those interested in reading it! Here

[gomzdrawfr]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm so desperately bored rn. can't do anything. because all I want to do is think about Dan or Jenkins. but I don't want to let myself do that because then I'll lie down and fall asleep and the day will be over and it'll feel like I didn't do anything.

can't even watch anything. nothing feels right. I'm. so bored. I tried drawing but. nope. head empty.

[tinyclowndancer]

this but with feeling

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!! AHH AHHHHHH !!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH !!!!!! AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !! AAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAAHHHHH !! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!! AHHH !! AHHHHHH !!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH !!!!! AAAAAAH !!!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!! !! AHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!! AAAAAHHHH AAAAAAAAHHHHH AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH !!!

[talkorsomething]

Trying to do better in Everything but also hardly practiced 2day & have been trapped on the couch by my darling baby kitty who i love so much for over 2 hours. Definitely need to be in bed by now, DEFINITELY needed to have done other things.

But ... hard to exist with someone else in the house.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 54

Chapter; Highlights

Before battle tomorrow-before they might stand a chance of actually saving Anielle.

He was still working through all that had transpired these months he'd been gone. The battles and losses. Where Dorian had gone with Manon and the Thirteen. Chaol could only pray his friend was successful-and that he didn't take it upon himself to forge the Lock.

Needing to unravel all he'd learned, he'd left Aelin and the others near the Great Hall to find whatever food they could, immediately.

Part of him half wondered if the mare knew that his back ached, that he needed his cane, but that he chose to be here.

He ran a hand down her ebony mane, then patted her strong neck. "Ready to trample some Valg grunts tomorrow, my friend?"

Farasha huffed, angling a dark eye at him as if to say, Are you?

Chaol smiled, and Yrene laughed softly. "I should head back to the hall," his wife said.

"See who needs help." But she lingered. Their eyes met over Farasha's powerful back.

He came around the horse, still mindful of her biting. "I know," he said quietly. Yrene angled her head. "Know what?"

Chaol interlaced their fingers. And then laid their hands atop her still-flat abdomen.

"Oh," was all Yrene said, her mouth popping open. "I- How?"

Chaol's heart thundered. "It's true, then." Her golden eyes scanned his. "Do you want it to be?"

Chaol slid a hand against her cheek. "More than I ever realized."

Yrene's smile was wide and lovely enough to fracture his heart. "It's true," she breathed.

"How far along?"

"Almost two months."

He studied her stomach, the place that would soon swell with the child growing inside her. Their child. "You didn't tell me, I'm assuming, because you didn't want me to worry."

Yrene bit her lip. "Something like that."

He snorted. "And when you were waddling around, belly near bursting?"

Yrene whacked his arm. "I'm not going to waddle."

Chaol laughed, and tugged her into his arms. "You'll waddle beautifully, was what I meant to say." Yrene's laughter reverberated into him, and Chaol kissed the top of her head, her temple. "We're having a child," he murmured onto her hair.

Her arms came around him. "We are," she whispered. "But how did you know?"

"My father," Chaol grumbled, "apparently possesses better observational skills than I do." He felt, more than saw, her cringe. "You're not angry I didn't tell you?"

"No. I would have appreciated hearing it from your lips first, but I understand why you didn't want to say anything yet. Stupid as it might be," he added, nipping at her ear. Yrene jabbed him in the ribs, and he laughed again.

Laughed, even though every day they'd fought in this battle, every opponent he'd faced, he'd dreaded making a fatal mistake. Had been unable to forget that should he fall, he'd be taking them both with him.

Her arms tightened around him, and Yrene nestled her head against his chest. "You'll be a brilliant father," she said softly. "The most brilliant one to ever exist."

"High praise indeed, coming from a woman who wanted to toss me from the highest window of the Torre a few months ago."

"A healer would never be SO unprofessional."

Chaol grinned, and breathed in her scent before he pulled back and brushed his mouth against hers. "I am happier than I can ever express, Yrene, to share this with you. Anything you need, I am yours to command."

Her lips twitched upward. "Dangerous words."

But Chaol ran his thumb over her wedding band. "I'll have to win this war quickly, then, so I can have our house built by the summer."

She rolled her eyes. "A noble reason to defeat Erawan."

Chaol stole another kiss from her. "As much as I would like to show you just how much I am at your command," he said against her mouth,

"I have another matter to deal with before bed." Yrene's brows rose.

He grimaced. "I need to introduce Aelin to my father. Before they run into each other." The man hadn't been near the hall when they'd arrived, and Chaol had been too worried for Farasha's well-being to bother hunting him down.

Yrene cringed, though amusement sparked in her eyes. "Is it bad if I want to join you? And bring snacks?"

Chaol slung an arm around her shoulders, giving Farasha a farewell stroke before they left. Despite the cane, each step was limping, and the pain in his back lanced down his legs, but it was secondary. All of it, even the damned war, was secondary to the woman at his side.

To the future they'd build together.

As well as Yrene's conversation with Chaol had gone, that's how badly things went between Aelin Galathynius and his father.

Yrene didn't bring snacks, but that was only because by the time they reached the Great Hall, they had intercepted his father. Storming toward the room where Aelin and her companions had gone for a reprieve.

"Father," Chaol said, falling into step beside him. Yrene said nothing, monitoring Chaol's movements. The pain in his back had to be great, if he was limping this deeply, even while her magic refilled. She had no idea where he'd left his chair—if it had been crushed under falling debris. She prayed it had not.

His father snapped, "You fail to wake me when the Queen of Terrasen arrives at my castle?"

"It wasn't a priority." Chaol halted before the door that opened into the small chamber that had been vacated for the queen and knocked.

A grunt was the only confirmation before Yrene’s husband shouldered open the door enough to poke his head inside. "My father," Chaol said to whoever was inside, presumably the queen, "would like to see you."

Silence, then the rustling of clothes and steps.

Yrene kept back as Aelin Galathynius appeared, her face and hands clean, but clothes still dirty. At her side stood that towering, silver-haired Fae warrior-Rowan Whitethorn.

Whom the royals had spoken of with such fear and respect months ago. In the room, Lady Elide sat against the far wall, a tray of food beside her, and the giant white wolf lay sprawled on the ground, monitoring with half-lidded eyes.

A shock to see the shift, to realize these Fae might be powerful and ancient, but they still had one foot in the forest. The queen, it seemed, preferred the form as well, her delicately pointed ears half-hidden by her unbound hair.

Behind her, there was no sign of the golden-haired, melancholy warrior, Gavriel, or the utterly terrifying Lorcan. Thank Silba for that, at least.

Aelin left the door open, though their two court members remained seated. Bored, almost. "Well, now," was all the queen said as she stepped into the hall.

Chaol's father looked over the warrior-prince at her side. Then he turned his head toward Chaol and said, "I assume they met in Wendlyn. After you sent her there."

Yrene tensed at the taunting in the man's voice. Bastard. Horrible bastard.

Aelin clicked her tongue. "Yes, yes, let's get all that out of the way. Though I don't think your son really regrets it, does he?" Aelin's eyes shifted to Yrene, and Yrene tried not to flinch under that turquoise-and-gold stare. Different from the fire she'd beheld that night in Innish, but still full of that razor-sharp awareness.

Different-they were both different from the girls they'd been. A smile curved the queen's mouth. "I think he made out rather well for himself." She frowned up at her consort. "Yrene, at least, doesn't seem like the sort to hog the blankets and snore in one's ear all night."

Yrene coughed as Prince Rowan only smiled at the queen. "I don't mind your snoring," he said mildly.

Aelin's mouth twitched when she turned to Chaol's father. Yrene's own laughter died at the lack of light on the man's face. Chaol was tense as a drawn bowstring as the queen said to his father, "Don't waste your breath on taunts. I'm tired, and hungry, and it won't end well for you."

"This is my keep."

Aelin made a good show of gaping at the ceiling, the walls, the floors. "Is it really?"

Yrene had to duck her head to hide her grin. So did Chaol.

But Aelin said to the Lord of Anielle, "I trust you're not going to get in our way."

A line in the sand. Yrene's breath caught in her throat.

Chaol's father said simply, "Last I looked you were not Queen of Adarlan."

"No, but your son is Hand to the King, which means he outranks you." Aelin smiled with horrific sweetness at Chaol. "Haven't you told him that?"

Yrene and Aelin were no longer the girls they'd been in Innish, yes, but that wildfire still remained in the queen's spirit. Wildfire touched with insanity.

Chaol shrugged. "I figured I'd tell him when the time arose." His father glowered.

Prince Rowan, however, said to the man, "You've defended and prepared your people admirably. We have no plans to take that from you."

"I don't need the approval of Fae brutes," the lord sneered Aelin clapped Rowan on the shoulder.

"Brute. I like that. Better than 'buzzard,' right?"

Yrene had no idea what the queen was talking about, but she held in her laugh anyway.

Aelin sketched a mocking bow to the Lord of Anielle. "On that lovely parting note, we're going to finish up our dinners. Enjoy your evening, we'll see you on the battlements tomorrow, and please do rot in hell." Then Aelin was turning away, a hand guiding her husband inside. But not before the queen threw a grin over her shoulder to Yrene and Chaol and said, eyes bright—with joy and warmth this time, "Congratulations."

How she knew, Yrene had no idea. But the Fae possessed a preternatural sense of smell. Yrene smiled all the same as she bowed her head-just before Aelin slammed the door in the Lord of Anielle's face.

Chaol turned to his father, any hint of amusement expertly hidden. "Well, you saw her."

Chaol's father shook with what Yrene supposed was a combination of rage and humiliation, and stalked away. It was one of the finest sights Yrene had ever seen.

From Chaol's smile, she knew her husband felt the same.

"What a horrible man." Elide finished off her chicken leg before handing the other to Fenrys, who had shifted back into his Fae form. He tore into it with a growl of appreciation. "Poor Lord Chaol."

Aelin, her aching legs stretched out before her as she leaned against the wall, finished off her own portion of chicken, then dug into a hunk of dark bread. "Poor Chaol, poor his mother, poor his brother. Poor everyone who has to deal with him."

At the lone, narrow window of the room, monitoring the dark army hundreds of feet below, Rowan snorted. "You were in rare form tonight."

Aelin saluted him with her hunk of hearty oaten bread. "Anyone who interrupts my dinner risks paying the price."

Rowan rolled his eyes, but smiled. Just as Aelin had seen him smile when they'd both scented what was on Yrene. The child in her.

She was happy for Yrene-for them both.

Chaol deserved that joy, perhaps more than anyone. As much as her own mate.

Aelin didn't let the thoughts travel further.

Not as she finished her bread and came to the window, leaning against Rowan's side. He slid an arm around her shoulders, casual and easy.

None of them mentioned Maeve.

Elide and Fenrys continued eating in silence, giving them what privacy they could in the small, bare room they'd be sharing, sleeping on bedrolls. The Lord of Anielle, it seemed, did not share her appreciation for luxury. Or basic comforts for his guests. Like hot baths. Or beds.

"The men are terrified," Rowan said, gazing out at the levels of the keep below. "You can smell it."

"They've held this keep for days now. They know what's waiting for them at dawn."

"Their fear," Rowan said, his jaw tightening, "is proof they do not trust our allies.

Proof they don't trust the khagan's army to actually save them. It will make for sloppy fighters. Could create a weakness where there shouldn't be one."

"Perhaps you should have told Chaol," Aelin said.

"He could give them some motivational speech."

"I have a feeling Chaol has given them plenty. This sort of fear rots the soul."

"What's to be done for it, then?" Rowan shook his head. "I don't know." But she sensed he did know. Sensed that he wanted to say something else, and either their current company or some sort of hesitation barred him.

So Aelin didn't push, and surveyed the battlements with their patrolling soldiers, the sprawling, dark army beyond. Baying cries and howls rent the night, the sounds unearthly enough that they dragged a shudder down her spine.

"Is a land battle easier or worse than one at sea?" Aelin asked her husband, her mate, peering at his tattooed face.

She'd only faced the ships in Skull's Bay, and even that had been over relatively quickly.

And against the ilken who'd swarmed them in the Stone Marshes, it had been more an extermination than anything. Not what awaited them tomorrow. Not what her friends had fought on the Narrow Sea while she and Manon had been in the mirror, then with Maeve on the beach.

Rowan considered. "They're just as messy, but in different ways."

"I'd rather fight on land," Fenrys grumbled.

"Because no one likes the smell of wet dog?" Aelin asked over her shoulder.

Fenrys laughed. "Exactly because of that."

At least he was smiling again.

Rowan's mouth twitched, but his eyes were hard as he surveyed the enemy army.

"Tomorrow's battle will be just as brutal," he said. "But the plan is sound."

They'd be on the battlements with Chaol, readying for any desperate maneuvers Morath might attempt when they found themselves being herded and crushed by the khagan's army.

Elide would be with Yrene and the other healers in the Great Hall, helping the injured.

Where Lorcan and Gavriel would be, Aelin could only assume. Both had peeled off upon arriving, the latter taking watch somewhere, and the former likely brooding. But they'd probably be fighting right alongside them.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Gavriel slipped into the room. "The army looks quiet enough," he said by way of greeting, then unceremoniously dropped to the floor beside Fenrys and hauled the platter of chicken toward him. "The men are rife with fear, though. Days of defending these walls have worn on them." Rowan nodded, not bothering to tell the Lion they'd just discussed this as Gavriel ripped into the food. "We'll have to make sure they don't balk tomorrow, then."

Indeed.

"I was wondering," Elide said to none of them in particular after a moment. "Since Maeve is an imposter, who would rule Doranelle if she was banished with all the other Valg?"

"Or burned to a crisp," Fenrys muttered.

Aelin might have smiled grimly, but Elide's question settled into her. Gavriel slowly set down the chicken. Rowan's arm dropped from Aelin's shoulders. His pine-green eyes were wide. "You."

Aelin blinked. "There are others from Mab's line. Galan, or Aedion—"

"The throne passes through the maternal line-to a female only. Or it should have, Rowan said. "You're the sole female with a direct, undiluted claim to Mab's bloodline."

"And your household, Rowan," Gavriel said. "Someone in your household would have a claim on Mora's half of the throne."

"Sellene. It would go to her." Even as a prince, Rowan's own heritage connecting him to Mora's bloodline had thinned to the point of being in name only. Aelin was more closely related to Elide, probably to Chaol, too, than she was to Rowan, despite their distant ancestry.

"Well, Sellene can have it," Aelin said, wiping her hands of dust that was not there. "Doranelle's hers." She wouldn't set foot in that city again, Maeve or no. She wasn't sure if that made her a coward. She didn't dare reach for her magic's comforting rumble.

"The Little Folk truly knew," Fenrys mused, rubbing his jaw. "What you were."

They had always known her, the Little Folk. Had saved her life ten years ago, and saved their lives these past few weeks. They had known her, and left gifts for her. Tribute, she'd thought, to Brannon's Heir. Not to... Gavriel murmured, "The Faerie Queen of the West."

Silence.

Aelin blurted, "Is that an actual title?"

"It is now," Fenrys muttered. Aelin shot him a look.

"With Sellene as the Fae Queen of the East," Rowan mused.

No one spoke for a good minute.

Aelin sighed up at the ceiling. "What's another fancy title, I suppose?"

They didn't answer, and Aelin tried not to let the weight of that title settle too heavily. All it implied. That she might not only look after the Little Folk on this continent, but with the cadre, begin a new homeland for any Fae who might wish to join them. For any of the Fae who had survived the slaughter in Terrasen ten years ago and might wish to return.

A fool's dream. One that she would likely not come to see. To create.

"The Faerie Queen of the West," Aelin said, tasting the words on her tongue.

Wondering how long she'd get to call herself such.

From the heavy quiet, she knew her companions were contemplating the same. And from the pain in Rowan's eyes, the rage and determination, she knew he was already calculating if it might somehow spare her from the sacrificial altar.

But that would come later. After tomorrow. If they survived.

There was a gate, and eternity lay beyond its black archway.

But not for her. No, there would be no Afterworld for her.

The gods had built another coffin, this time crafting it of that dark, glimmering stone.

Stone her fire could never melt. Never pierce. The only way to escape was to become it—dissolve into it like sea-foam on a beach.

Every breath was thinner than the previous one. They had not put any holes in this coffin.

Beyond her confines, she knew a second coffin sat beside hers. Knew, because the muffled screams within still reached her here.

Two princesses, one golden and one silver.

One young and one ancient. Both the cost of sealing that gate to eternity.

The air would run out soon. She'd already lost too much of it in her frantic clawing at the stone. Her fingertips pulsed where she'd broken nails and skin.

Those female screams became quieter.

She should accept it, embrace it. Only when she did would the lid open.

The air was so hot, so precious. She could not get out, could not get out—

Aelin hauled herself into waking. The room remained dark, her companions' deep breathing holding steady.

Open, fresh air. The stars just visible through the narrow window.

No Wyrdstone coffin. No gate poised to devour her whole. But she knew they were watching, somehow. Those wretched gods. Even here, they were watching. Waiting.

A sacrifice. That's all she was to them.

Nausea churned in her gut, but Aelin ignored it, ignored the tremors rippling through her. The heat under her skin.

Aelin turned onto her side, nestling closer into Rowan's solid warmth, Elena's muffled screams still ringing in her ears.

No, she would not be helpless again.

[kianamaiart]

"Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl" Bios!

NAME: Aika (she/her) AGE: 15 Main Protagonist CV: Anairis Quiñones

BIO:

Aika is an easily excitable and energetic girl. She's generally optimistic and very friendly. She's always eager to try new things as long as it's not her fulltime job of being a magical girl.

As soon as her magical girl duties are brought into the picture, her demeanor changes. She checks out, and often looks for the quickest solution to solve the issue. No flashy transformations and special moves here. She's good with a metal baseball bat or a rocket launcher.

All Aika wants is to live a normal life, make friends and go to school. Unfortunately, like every main protagonist, trouble manages to follow her wherever she goes.

___________________________________

NAME: Zira (she/they) AGE: 16 Love Interest Best Friend CV: Bennett Abara

BIO:

Zira is everything Aika wants to be. Painfully average, under the radar and a self proclaimed loser.

She's a smart girl but has a hard time applying herself. Instead of paying attention in school, and doing extracurriculars, Zira would much rather be reading her favorite magical girl manga "Moon Sailor".

After Aika forces her friendship upon them, Zira now has to tag along on all of Aika's escapades and experiences new things. Ew. However, they admire Aika deeply and admire her even more after Aika's magical secret comes to light.

___________________________________

NAME: Hoshi (any/they/them) AGE: unknown Magical Sidekick CV: Christine Marie Cabanos

BIO:

Hoshi is a magical star being sent to Earth to find the chosen one. They made a great choice with Aika, as she's amazing at her job. The only issue is she hates it and is often trying to dodge responsibilities (and Hoshi).

When Aika first started, and still had her heart in it, Hoshi was definitely more neurotic and acted as your typical mentor/magical sidekick. But over time, they gave up on trying to tell Aika what to do and also became a little more apathetic. Aika was getting the job done at least, so what's the problem?

Hoshi still has to make sure Aika doesn't completely give up on being the Star Guardian: Guardian of the Stars, which Aika finds annoying.

___________________________________

NAME: Eclipse (he/him) AGE: 15 Minor Antagonist CV: Aleks Le

BIO:Eclipse is a flamboyant and theatrical individual whose showmanship is out of this world. He refers to himself as

"Eclipse: Servant of Darkness".

He was a D-list antagonist that Aika and her team would fight on occasion. Mostly just saving citizens from him being a nuisance. Eclipse has deluded himself into thinking that he's Aika's rival, main antagonist and love interest. Their love is simply forbidden as he's chosen the path of darkness and her, the light.

After Aika ran away, he managed to find her again. However this time he actually has powers??? Where did those come from? It's as if he's made a deal with darkness itself.

___________________________________

NAME: Lady DeVoid (she/her) AGE: Old Main Antagonist/Big Bad CV: Shara Kirby

BIO: Lady DeVoid is darkness itself. She's a mysterious being with an incomprehensible amount of power. Power that is currently weakened and that she actually has no idea how to use. She can't seem to remember for some reason...

All she knows is that a long time ago she was defeated and banished by a Star Guardian and that she now wants revenge. The only power she has at her disposal is creating particles of darkness that she can use to possess animate or inanimate objects to create monsters. She prefers others do her dirty work.

She enlists the help of Eclipse to spread these particles with the hopes that it'll eventually destroy the Star Guardian.

___________________________________

NAME: Miss (she/her) AGE: 39 Side Character CV: Michele Knotz

BIO:

Miss is Aika and Zira's very tired teacher. Looking at her, you might assume she hates her job, but it's quite the opposite. She pours everything into her work and into her students, leaving very little time for her personal life.

She's recently started trying to get it together (after her ex-wife left her) but is still struggling to find that work-life balance.

Prior to Aika enrolling, Miss was Zira's only friend at school and, though she'd never admit it, Zira's probably the closest thing she has to a friend also (oof). She's subsequently become a secret Moon Sailor fan too.

[johnlacena]

@staff comments from an engineer in the tags.

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[zyafics]

CAN YOU PLEASE, PLEASE ON MY KNEES WRITE ABOUT BITCHY!READER X RAFE AND IT'S SMUT?? I FEEL LIKE YOU'LL DO IT JUSTICE!!! thank you

you literally read my mind because i was just thinking of this prompt that works so well with bitchy!reader!! hope you'll enjoy <3 (if it’s bad, look away!!)

WHATEVER SHE WANTS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot)

Pairing — Rafe x Bitchy!Kook!Female Reader

Content — 18+, power/dominance play, p in v, doggy style, orgasm denial, and dirty talks

Word Count — 2.2K

lıllılı Whatever She Wants by Bryson Tiller

You always wanted Rafe.

It's your right. Since you were a child, you demanded the best in everything—toys, clothes, boyfriends. They had to be perfect. Had to be yours. And yes, it may come off a little superficial but who cares? It's what you deserve, and it'll be hell if you don't get it.

Since the first look, when you caught Rafe lounging on a chair with his friends, tipping the rim of his beer onto his lips, while his eyes scanned over the room in an attractive lazy way, you knew you had to have him. It didn't help that you were competitive, and Rafe garnered attention with women. They flocked to him and begged for a minute of his time. It became a game to you, and that heightened your need.

Everything was calculated. The makeup you wore, the outfits you curated, the glances. You always timed your arrivals—when you knew Rafe would be watching the door—and marked your exits. You knew exactly what to wear—dresses that tantalizing exposes your ass, but only as a preview—and the cosmetic style he liked. Rafe's the type of man who believes he wants a bare-faced woman, but truly, he wants something natural that enhances your features.

You came with friends. You left alone. You drank enough to loosen your nerves and danced with the crowd, but not enough to make a fool of yourself. You knew your tolerance and knew Rafe didn't like a messy girl.

At least, in public.

You caught his gaze a couple of times, flashing a flirtatious smile over your shoulders, but never lingered longer than three seconds. Rafe can't know how easy he can have you, because Rafe, like most boys, loves a chase. You're not easy, you're spoiled. He had to come to you.

And he did.

Rafe tried to introduce himself on several occasions. On those nights when you're leaving early—as planned—Rafe would cut to the door to pay a parting remark. "You're leaving so soon?" he would ask, "Alone? Again?" He would add. You always told him it was because no one caught your eye, and Rafe took that as a personal challenge. He would then try to tell you his name, as if he were different, to which you nod—detached—as if it didn't matter.

It drove him insane.

Because you didn't offer the same courtesy. You kept him guessing. He had to finally ask around to learn your name, which he would use to tease you the next time he saw you. And he did. And you laughed. But you acted like you didn't care. Like all the trouble he went through didn't prove a thing. That's when Rafe knew he needed you.

Tonight's no different. Just as you're about to leave, Rafe catches you with another smooth pick-up line. You just giggle. He studies how your eyes crinkle with amusement, the curve of your lips painted in his favorite shade of lipstick, and the lithe tilt of your head to the side as you ask him with your gaze, is that the best you got?

It isn't. But Rafe's determined to get further with you tonight. He continues to talk, asking about which men disappointed you and the reasons for your constant disappearances from these parties. And, for once, you're answering his questions with little resistance. Perhaps, it's because of the amount of cheap wines you consumed, or maybe you—for once—are tired of the games and want it to come to a fruitful end. Because when Rafe finally asks to take you home, you don't say no.

The walk to his truck is brisk. His arm wrapped around your waist, directing your path, while his fingers trail over the backless cut of your dress, producing a buzzing feeling beneath your skin. He's whispering something in your ear, but all of it is incomprehensible as you revel in the feeling of his touch and his touch alone. The feeling of your game coming to a conclusion.

And, just as you're about to reach the car, Rafe slams you into the side of the vehicle with a searing kiss.

His mouth catches yours and everything feels perfect. As if the buildup leading to this precise moment had been worth it, and every needy emotion rises to the top. His hand travels down the length of your body, to your hips, pulling you closer, and needing to eliminate all the space and wait you made him do.

Rafe's movements are swift and controlled. One of his hands props open the backdoor of his car, pushing you inside, and laying you against his leather seats. All without breaking the kiss.

"You don't know how long I wanted this, wanted you," Rafe blubbers between wet kisses. "Seeing you at every party, in these tiny dresses, not being able to touch," he rasps, bundling the hem of your dress into a tight fist. "Tell me you wear them for me."

"And if I did?" You say with a moan, tipping your head back to grant him access to your neck. "Did you like them?"

"Of course I did," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, the vibration of his words sending heat straight to your core. "You dressing up for me like my own perfect doll."

You want to retort that it's him who's in the palm of your hand, but Rafe sucks on a sensitive spot, causing your eyes to roll back and a whimper to escape your lips instead. He grabs your wrists with one hand, throwing them over his shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest.

"So pretty, so fucking untouchable," Rafe kisses down the length of your throat, his fingers collecting the spaghetti straps of your dress before sliding it down the slope of your shoulders. "I'm going to fuck you so good."

His words snap you out of your haze. And while Rafe continues to expose more of your body, lamenting each reveal of flesh with a kiss, you withdraw enough to grab his attention.

"You're not fucking me in a car."

"What?" Rafe breaths, unable to snap out of the trace you had him in. Delirious with want, his mind warped around the idea of you being so close to attainable, that all rational manners left his system. He tries to kiss you again, to resume the moment, but you pull enough to send him a deadly glare, pouty and spoiled.

"Rafe, take me somewhere nice or we're not fucking at all."

He can't believe what he's hearing. He can't believe he's contemplating it. But Rafe doesn't understand that you have it all planned out to result in a perfect moment. You won't let it be disrupted just because Rafe can't drive the extra mile to take you somewhere nice. You'd rather leave him with blue balls.

"Are you serious?" He asks slowly, his eyes drawn to your swollen lips, the little pout, and the desperation to have them back on his. Sure, Rafe's had girls who wanted something more than a casual fling. He had them ask him for a better spot, but he never obliged. He never cared. But you're different. He wants you, and it's been a hell of a chase to get you here. He'll be damned if he lets it slip away because of a pretentious standard.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" You cross your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts further up. He nearly groans at the sight. "We're not having sex here."

"The nearest place has to be at least a fifteen-minute drive," Rafe argues. And it makes you upset, brows pinched together. "We can just—"

"I don't care," you snap. "Take me somewhere nice or I'm leaving."

You're serious. He sees it on your face. Rafe can't risk that, despite wanting to protest, because he knows he if he messes this up, he won't have another chance. Swearing under his breath, he drags himself out of the backseat and into the driver's side, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Dangerously, Rafe speeds down the road, while you're sitting in the backseat with a self-satisfied demeanor, fixing your makeup through the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Rafe spares a glance through the same reflection, connecting with your gaze, and while there's subtle bitterness coiled in his chest, he recognizes the bigger prize at hand.

And what he can do with it.

Because, despite your bratty attitude, Rafe is a person who wants control. You want perfection. You two can have both.

That's how you find yourself in a newly-booked penthouse suite at one of the bougie hotels in Kildare, your head digging into the soft comforter of the bed, your ass in the air, as Rafe drills into you from behind.

When you reached the room, everything moved frantically. Rafe slammed you against the nearest wall to kiss you again—needing your lips, needing your taste—while his hands roamed over your dress and pulled down your cleavage, revealing your tits. Your hands wandered down his pants, unbuttoning them hurriedly, needily, and he assisted you by pulling them off alongside his boxers. His cock was big, slightly red with a pearly bead of pre-cum that rolls off the tip. And you could tell by the look on Rafe's face that he wanted you to suck it.

But you told him, "I don't do blowjobs."

So fucking pretentious.

It didn't matter. He hauled you over to the king-sized bed and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft thump, while Rafe hauled you up to your ass, pushing up your dress, until it became nothing but a bundle around your waist. His movements were urgent, and he wanted—no, needed—to be inside you because a bratty girl was going to be a great fuck.

And he was right.

You're perfect. The way you wrap around him, the way he sinks inside you. He doesn't know if it's because of the delirium of wanting you so desperately, of chasing you for so long—but he never had better pussy. And it doesn't help that your moans are sweet, breathy, and loud—begging him to go faster.

"Such a pretentious brat," Rafe grabs your throat, hauling you upwards till your spine rest on his chest, airway constricted by his harsh grip. "Making me wait this fucking long."

"R—Rafe," you mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the way he's angling his cock deep into your cervix, bullying the sensitive spot over and over again until you're seeing stars.

"Had to get the princess treatment, did you?" He murmurs hotly into your ear, nibbling a spot on your neck as you rest the back of your head on his shoulder. His thrusts grow more erratic. "Had to make me earn you, didn't you?"

"You weren't going to fuck me in a car," you persist, and despite how cockdrunk you became, and how much of an attitude you're willing to sacrifice to feel good, you were still adamant about receiving what you deemed enough. He respected that. "I'm not one of your whores."

"But I'm fucking you like my own personal slut. Is that any better?" He bites the lobe of your ear, and his other hand wanders up to grab a handful of your breast, squeezing the fat before rolling your perked nipple between his fingers. You moan louder. "What does that make you?"

You can't seem to answer him, can't seem to find your senses. The words Rafe uses are vulgar, but there’s still no regrets about this entire thing. Rafe wanted you so badly, that he was willing to spend hundreds of dollars on a hotel he probably won't even stay the night in. All because you demanded it.

You win.

"Shut up," you stammer, your stomach tightening. "Shut up and just fuck me, Rafe."

Rafe grins. The hand playing with your tits slips between your thighs to assist, finding your clit easily as he rubs it with his thumb in sync with his thrusts. Breathy moans escape you as you arch into his palm, while he pistons deeper inside of you, bottoming out.

"You sound so pretty, doll," Rafe murmurs against your heated skin, "Come on, take my fucking cock."

Everything’s so dirty. The way he handles you, the way your wetness drips down your thighs, the way his words breathe onto your skin and tighten your core. But you love it. You do, but you're not willing to give in so easily. No matter how good it feels. No matter how much he feels like a prize.

"You don't deserve me." You whisper with a mewl, body tightening with the familiar wave of your undoing.

Yet, Rafe merely grins.

"But you're sucking in my cock like you need me," Rafe taunts, pleasure coursing through his body at the way your walls grip him in a vice. The way your words spark challenge and invitation. He knows, despite your spoiled attitude and pretentious demands, he'll do anything to get another chance like this. "Now, behave like a good girl or you're not coming tonight."

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