#i am terrible at accepting compliments

[campingwiththecharmings]

asd;lsdkfs;ldkf oh to have rydal come along and fuck me into believing i'm pretty 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

this was spectacular, bb, i'm just gonna go think about it for a bit hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng. ty for sharing 😘❤️

body talk

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Part of the Oxford Comma series

Warnings: dirty talk, p in v, creampie, literally just smut really idk MDNI

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: @xbellaxcarolinax ty for being an absolute doll and reading this over for me bb, appreciate the hell out of you ❤️

It all started when you laughed at his compliment. 

Well, sort of.

—

It had been building for a couple of weeks, his lingering hands squeezing the soft parts of you longer and longer; his bottomless eyes watching you unabashedly. Your heart beat faster at the thought of it, but slowly you were getting used to it.

Then came his words.

“You look good like that,” he’d say while you were wiping your lip free from pasta sauce. 

“Eating… messily?” 

Then he’d laugh and call you adorable and change the subject. 

The next time Rydal left you feeling lost for words was when you started wearing the perfume he had gifted you. You weren’t surprised that he liked the way you smelt while wearing it, no, what surprised you was the way he’d immediately begin mouthing at your neck regardless of where you were. 

And when you told him to settle down and wait until you got back to his room?

“If you could see the way you’re looking at me, smelling like you do, you’d also want to fuck your brains out in the common room.” 

After that, he had taken to sprinkling kind words to you whenever he was near, words about how you looked that day, how your hair tied back drove him crazy, how the way you smiled at him made him lose his train of thought and miss the last ten minutes of the lecture, how you look too good in his clothes after he’d already fucked you senseless in his dorm, having picked up the closest sweatshirt from the floor. 

It was something you were trying to get used to, and some of it you were able to laugh off easily. He was supposed to say nice things, right? 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful right now,” Rydal said while sliding his hard cock along the outside of your wet folds, the tip of it grazing your clit teasingly. You could only whimper in response, insides melting at both his words and his actions.

How he could say these things to you while you were minutes away from crying and begging him to just stuff you full of him made no sense to you. Pupils blown wide and lips swollen and bruised, you were a downright mess.

So you ignored it.

“You don’t think so? Are you saying I have bad taste?” He began to push himself inside slowly, leaning forward to breathe in your personal space and press himself impossibly closer. “Huh?” 

Rydal was fully seated inside, nibbling at the dip in your shoulder. He rubbed his nose along your cheek, eyes not quite closed while watching your eyelids flutter at the intrusion. It might have been crude, but you could swear that he belonged inside you, tucked into the heat between your legs as close as he could get. 

This was your favourite place for him to be. 

“What, no, I-I can’t think—“

“You’re so cute when you’re cockdumb, c’mon tell me I’m right.” 

He didn’t wait for your response and pulled out only to swiftly thrust his hips again and again. Your eyes had shut and you were moaning lowly, desperate to focus on how he felt, not whatever argument he was trying to reference at the moment. 

“Not gonna tell me? You’re so fucking difficult,” he mumbled, picking up speed as he continued to pump his length into you, your hips pressed into the mattress.

The noises your bodies were making was obscene, sweet slick dripping out from your cunt while he didn’t let up, his pace never faltering. Rydal lifted one of your legs up higher to sit around his ass, hand wrapped around your thigh and pressing, opening you up wider. 

Your moans increased in volume, eyes still scrunched shut while he began thrusting into your pussy harder, the bed creaking with the force of his hips. Your walls were squeezing around him, desperate to keep him inside as he continued to fuck you open, mould you to his liking.

“You don’t agree?” He was huffing in your face. You shook your head so as to tell him to shut up, to drop it, this wasn’t the fucking time. “Why’s it always a fight when I’m trying to be nice to you?” 

The way you tried and failed to tell him to shut the fuck up and make you cum was embarrassingly obvious, your lips forming the first syllables before gasping on a particularly hard and well timed thrust. 

One hand crept up to tweak at your bare nipple, softly pinching the flesh until you cried out for him. Crying out on his cock while he bullied you seemed to be shaping up to be a pattern for the two of you. 

“Ry, please,” you gasped. It felt like he was in your goddamn lungs with the he was filling you up, pressing in and against you, stealing your very breath. 

Clutching his arms and digging your nails into his shoulder, you opened your eyes to plead with him. 

Your pussy fluttered when he laughed, a worry starting to build a furrow between your brows the same way the pleasure was rising in your belly. Was he going to continue this afterwards, too? Was this going to turn into something bigger or was he just, for lack of a better word, fucking with you? 

“I’m begging here, too, baby,” he said while lifting his body off your chest, rising to his knees to hit your cervix from a different angle. 

“I’m begging you to see yourself the way I do. Like right now, for example, so fuckin’ pretty. And when I do this?” He moved to press his palm into your hip, holding you down and resting his thumb on your clit. He didn’t touch it the way he knew you wanted him to, pulling a whine from the back of your throat. “Mmm, absolutely gorgeous.” 

“Shhhh—“

Was all you could manage until he leaned in swiftly and bit you above your breast, suckling the skin causing you to wail.

“Tsk, tsk, pretty girl. I’m not going to let you cum until you agree with me.” 

Lifting himself off you again, Rydal slowed his thrusts down to be able to drag his thick cock out with the sick intent of seeing you flinch before he slammed it back inside. You felt the pressure subsiding, almost slipping stealthily away and whined desperately at him. 

“Fuck! What do you want from me?!” You spit at him, fingers tense around his sheets.

“Say it, say you look the prettiest with my cock inside you,” he tried smiling but abruptly groaned when your walls clenched around him from his words. “F-fuck, honey, don’t do this just fucking say it—”

“Ahh, I-I look, ohh,” you moaned louder.

Rydal was thrusting the slightest bit faster, brows raised in a hopeful look and eyes trained on your face.

“Uh huh, I’ve got you, keep going,” he murmured. 

“I look p-prettiest with your co-ooock inside me,” you yelled, voice breaking on a moan. 

He groaned deeply, hips speeding up and snapping into yours. 

“Good, s-so good, fuck, all for me,” he planted his hands on the bed for momentum while he continued to plow your leaking pussy. “Gonna cum for me? Go on, cum for me like a good girl, did so good, baby.”

He wasn’t letting up and the rapid build up of his thrusts timed with his syrupy sweet voice and kind words catapulted you to the edge again quickly. Whining uncontrollably while he continued to talk you through it, you shouted into the room as you gushed around his thickness. 

Chest heaving over your fresh pleasure, the aftershocks were still coursing through your body meanwhile Rydal kept fucking you through it. His hair fell into his eyes as he stared at where you were joined, watching the white ring around his dick as it plunged into you before everything tightened. On his last thrust, he stilled as he shot his load inside you, groaning with his eyes closed. 

You scoffed watching him. He was utterly gorgeous. 

“Do you believe me now?” 

“You’re a dick, you know that?” 

[backwardswalks]

Ditto on your fic. I literally felt chills when reading part where Leon leaves after the fight. The imagery of him instinctively putting his hand on Connor's bare stomach (and the fact that they were having this fight while Connor was barely clothed). Brilliant.

WAAAH THANK U!!! i’m so glad it’s been received well, esp for it being my first ;u;

something something metaphorical and literal state of vulnerability something something

this was so i had a rough morning at work so this made me 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[bookshelf-dust]

you have hearts for eyes

sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 5,451

warnings: minimal swearing, kind of modern!au, reader has insecurities about being inexperienced, very slight suggestive material, fluff/comfort

a/n: hello! i’ve been working on this fic for what feels like forever, and i am so happy to be done with it and to share it with you. i know my audience for sirius is a bit smaller, but i’m hoping some of you will appreciate and enjoy it and maybe find something in it. it means a lot to me and writing it definitely helped me work through some of my own struggles. please let me know what you think!! i love you so much. happy reading <333

————

Sirius’ apartment is really quite sweet. The walls are dark and draped with tapestries, ones you would never know where to find. Someplace you’re unfamiliar with, surely.

Of course you know it wouldn’t be nearly this nice without all of Remus’ help. Sirius thinks choosing to live across the hall from one another was the best decision they ever made. He had wanted to share a place with both Remus and James, but that was before Lily snatched him away.  

The couch is a deep wine color, the cushions bearing imprints from all the hands and backs and bottoms that have embraced them. He’s cracked the living room windows open, allowing the spring air to seep in.

He’s been pacing back and forth from the window where he’d be able to see your car pull up, and looking out the peephole on his front door. He pulls it open just as you’ve raised your hand to knock (despite having a key), making you jump. A boyish grin spreads across his face as he drags his eyes down your figure. 

“Well, Christ, don’t you look gorgeous.”

You feel the tips of your ears burn. One of your hands flies to rest on your lower belly. You put on a dress today; a lovely, long sundress you purchased in a short-lived moment of bravery, one you’ve never worn around him. Actually, you’ve never worn a dress around Sirius, period. Skirts, sure. But he has never seen you in something like this.

“Oh, quit that,” you mutter, dipping under his arm to enter his home. 

He turns around to watch you walk in as he pushes the door shut. “I will not.” He takes your bag from your shoulder, setting it on a stool just under the kitchen island. “Do a spin for me, love. That color looks so perfect on you.”

You oblige, letting yourself have this one moment where you lean into his flirting. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the dress hugging it so gently where you’ve tied the strings around your back. The way the fabric drapes down your spine and is light enough that he can see each move you make, each effortless shift of your limbs. He has to be careful not to let his jaw fall open.

You complete your turn, stomach flipping at the look on his face. You scramble for something to say, to hide the way he’s flustered you.

“Okay, okay. No need to pretend to ogle anymore. All I did was put on regular people clothes.”

Sirius’ brows knit together. Pretend? Do you think he’s doing this just to flatter you? Just because he’s a naturally flirty man? He wants to toss you over his shoulder and show you how perfect you are. He crosses his arms.

“No pretending here, love. You do look stunning in that little number and I feel blessed that you have graced me with your presence while wearing it.” He shoots a wink in your direction. 

You run a hand over your collarbone and twist to plant yourself on his couch. He follows you, tucking himself into your side, his thigh pressed to yours. You can feel his gaze on you. 

“You’re terrible at taking compliments, you know that?” He gingerly takes your hand away from where it’s scratching at your neck and keeps it in his, subconsciously tracing the lines embedded in your palm. 

Your eyes fall on his fingers, watching the way his rings glint in the fading sunlight. “I did know that, yes.”

“Give me a compliment then,” he says, attempting to display how one can accept a compliment. Part of him knows he’ll go red once you give him that attention. 

You look at him, your mind swirling with every sweet thing you’ve ever wanted to say to him but kept to yourself because all this flirting doesn’t leave you as easily as it does him. 

“Your hair looks very pretty,” you let out, softly. A smile wide enough to expose his dimples spreads across his face. 

“Does it?” He gives his head a shake, the dog-like movement making you laugh. “I haven’t brushed it today.”

You tuck a strand behind his ear. “Would you like me to do it for you? I could braid it for you after so it won’t get tangled tonight.” 

That gesture comes from you so naturally that it makes Sirius swoon. You want to do that simply for his convenience and because it might make things a bit better on him. And he’ll be damned if the thought of your fingers touching his scalp and your nails on his neck doesn’t sound like the best thing since…well he hasn’t got a reference for that. But you’re often so shy when it comes to physical affection, and this just might make his entire life.  

This pool of thoughts must be showing on his face, because you suddenly look very flustered. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had hearts in his eyes to replace his pupils.

“I’d love it if you did. You really don’t mind?” he asks, already shifting to sit on the floor in front of you, trying not to make you feel too nervous because he knows you’re branching out just based on your actions since you arrived. 

“Nope. I love to braid hair,” you say, feeling a chill run down your spine seeing him settled between your legs like this, feeling the warmth of him through your dress and being able to really look at him—even if it’s just the backside of him—without feeling so shy.

Sirius grins to himself. He’s realized that you do keep a lot of things to yourself, and though he likes to think he’s cracked away at a bit of your shell in the time he’s known you, there is still so much he doesn’t know. 

“Did you know that Remus can braid?” he asks you, closing his eyes at the feel of your pinky fingernail parting his hair down the middle. 

You giggle. He could get drunk off that sound, and he knows so. It leaves him dazed. “Can he?”

“Apparently so. His mum taught him and used to have him do her hair because he was better at it than she was.”

“Well, that’s sweet. I should have him do mine. Test his skills. How’d you find out he could do it?”

Sirius lets out a breath of a laugh, “He did mine for a Quidditch match once. Mcgonagall used to fuss that I’d rip all my hair out if I didn’t contain it.”

You’re braiding his hair very slowly, much slower than you’d do yours or anyone else’s. His hair is so soft, and much thicker than you had realized. It’s got a wave to it, one you think you would be a bit more defined if he put some product in it. You’re enjoying the feel of it in your hands, the heat of his scalp against your skin. 

You’re losing yourself in it so much that you almost miss his words.

“I bet you guys had a lot of fun playing together,” you say, knowing that kind of bond must be one of the best things in the world. You tuck the strands of hair at the base of his neck in so they don’t droop when you’re finished.

Sirius wraps a hand around your ankle, and your eyes widen. 

“I wish we’d been friends then,” he tells you. Your nervous system is sent into overdrive, trying to adapt to such a casually intimate touch and the fact that he’s dwelling on the past. 

You tie off the end of one braid and start on the other. You exhale through your nose. “I don’t think we could’ve been.”

Sirius’ eyes open at this. He fights the urge to spin around and face you, but knows you’re concentrating, and he has the feeling that not staring at you directly is why you’re suddenly being so open with him. 

“Why?” he asks. Why couldn’t you have been? He’s always been friendly. Sure, he was much more rowdy in school, but he never would’ve tried to intimidate you. 

“We ran in different circles, you know? I certainly knew who you and the boys were, but everyone did.” Sirius’ brows furrow as he listens more intently than he knew he was capable of. “Though no one really knew who I was, except for my professors, of course. I was even more shy and reserved then, if you can believe that. I never really fit in, and I never found my people.”

“I sort of just…observed everyone. I did my best in class and tried to be social, but nothing ever stuck. I think there’s only one person I keep in touch with from Herbology. I learned at some point that I was going to be alone, and I might as well make the best of it.”

“So I guess what I’m saying is that we couldn’t have been because I’m not sure you ever would’ve seen me.”

The silence that follows your last few words is deafening, and all you hear is the sound of your blood rushing in your ears and your nails scratching against his hair as you finish the other braid. 

When he feels the tie rest against his neck, he forces the words up from where they’ve been sitting in his throat. “Love, I…”

He turns around so quickly you think he might’ve given himself whiplash. He’s giving you puppy dog eyes, and you hate that he’s feeling sappy over you and your pitiful school experience—or lack thereof. 

“Weren’t you lonely?” he questions, resting his hands on your knees. 

You start to fidget with one of your rings. “Of course I was. I know for lots being at Hogwarts are some of the best years of your life. But mine were very hard. I was extremely lonely, but I just learned how to be my own friend and do things that made me happy.”

“Plus I made great relationships with the professors, which helped me in getting a real job. And if that hadn’t happened…I’d never have really met you. Don’t feel bad for me, okay? It’s no big deal.”

Your words are followed by a poignant pause.

So much starts to click for Sirius, and all it does is break his heart. You give him a shy smile, and fuck, you’re absolutely right. He can’t remember what you looked like then, doesn’t remember seeing you in any of his courses. And he knows you’re a badass, but thinking about how he always had a circle, people he’d trust with his life and go to when he needed them, compared to how you were completely alone…that hurts. You deserve to be loved, praised, shown off to the world. You’re only a bit more outgoing now, and he knows much of that is owed to him and James. Remus is your introverted confidant. 

Sirius stands up and moves to sit next to you on the couch. 

“How could I not feel bad for you? Love, you’ve grown so accustomed to being alone that you don’t think it’s a big deal—not having a circle. You’ve accepted it, and I hate that you have felt so alone for so long.”

“Sirius, really, it’s—”

“Can I ask you something?” He blurts out the words, causing you to blink a bit. 

“You just did.”

“Please?” 

“Yes.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Oh. That’s not where you were expecting this conversation to go. And this is one of the most embarrassing things to talk about. Especially with him, because you know he’s experienced. You’ve heard the stories.

Sirius takes your silence as encouragement to continue, scrambling to explain why he’d ask this. 

“Obviously you’ve been around us, you know James and Lily and—whatever, you know. And we sometimes talk about relationships or escapades and you always retreat when that happens. Is that…is that why?”

You swallow, ignoring the slight pressure behind your eyes. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Especially at your age, and knowing you’re behind everyone you know. It is hard to hear them talk about relationships or hookups. Most definitely when it’s Sirius. 

“No. I’ve never had a boyfriend.” 

Sirius blinks. He can’t understand how any guy could look at you and not want you all to themselves. That’s what he wants. 

“I’ve never even held hands romantically, Sirius. Isn’t that pathetic?” You feel the need to make sure he knows you realize how pitiful it truly is. 

Alarm bells ring in his head. 

“Darling, no. It’s not pathetic.” He searches your face, noticing the way you’re retreating from him. “Look at me, please?” He tracks your smile lines, each freckle or mark on your skin until you meet his eyes. His own brighten at your willingness to listen. “There she is.” 

Something about those words shoot straight to your stomach, butterflies smacking against your insides, begging to be let out. 

“Why do you think that’s pathetic, love?” He’s asking you seriously. That bitter voice, the one you’ve shoved deep inside the back of your mind, claws its way forward. It must be easy to think it’s not pathetic when you’re so experienced. Because you haven’t met the ache that comes from lacking what others have. You shake your head. 

“Because it is, Sirius.” He opens his mouth, but figures this isn’t the time to bicker. His jaw falls shut just as quickly. “I am twenty-two years old, and I have never had any romantic interactions, despite the fact that I have been desperate for one for years.” He knows you’re really letting your emotions fly when you begin to talk with your hands.

“It is so gut-wrenching sometimes to see people be so happy in their relationships. It’s hard for me to listen to our discussions when they delve into each of your experiences, because it tugs on my insecurities, and I try my best to hide it, but it does hurt.”

“Truthfully, I’m at a point where not only am I ashamed of all of this, but I’m afraid that a kiss, or a hug, or anything—that I just won’t feel anything. That maybe I will never understand what affection or love feels like and it’ll always be something I imagine. And my imagination only goes so far. There’s such a disconnect, and I can’t feel those things.” 

You rub at your temples. “So that’s why. I’m behind everyone else my age, and I wish I wasn’t.”

That little bit of anger you’ve worked so hard to suppress bubbles up in your chest. You worry he’ll say something that pushes it out, that he’ll give you that same spiel everyone else does—

“I could try and help you with your romantic interactions.” 

Your breath catches. Sirius’ gray eyes bore into yours. 

“But I’ll have you know,” he continues, “that I understand how you think you’re behind, especially with the stupid shit we talk about, and I don’t think it matters. You’re on a different path than I’ve been, but it’s not as though you’ll never do those things. Frankly, I can’t see why no one’s jumped your bones to date.”

Your nervous system feels so confused. At once you’re fighting that bout of frustration, and feeling your heart pick up at the idea of this actually being a possibility. 

“Did I braid your hair too tight?” you mutter. 

Sirius laughs, tossing his head back to reveal a glorious neck. “No, love.” He places a hand on your knee. “Now, be genuine when you answer this for me, alright?” He waits for your nod and then leans in close enough that you can feel his breath on your collar bones. 

“Is it really that difficult to see how enamored I am with you?”

Huh?

Sirius laughs again. Shit, did you say that out loud? 

“You did say that out loud.”

You slap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you rush out, “that was supposed to stay in my head.” But all of the small things he’s done, all of the romantic things—cooking you dinner, helping you zip your dresses, buying you jewelry, even just making you feel seen—come rushing to the forefront of your mind. Perhaps you didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe you couldn’t believe someone would feel romantically about you and decided to block out any of his loving gestures.

He’s staring straight into your eyes, and it’s like he’s cast a spell on you, because you feel like you could spill your guts right then and there. And maybe it’s best you do. 

“I think maybe I’ve just convinced myself you’re sweet to everyone? That you’re a loverboy at heart and so it hasn’t meant anything more for you to be sweet to me.”

“Sweet on you,” he says. 

You blink.

“I am sweet on you, love. While I won’t deny that I am a flirt at heart and do my best to charm most anyone, I have dedicated my time to you as of late. Truth be told, I'd quite like to be your loverboy.” He pauses, looking over your face, a grin spreading across his. “But I suppose your inexperience explains why you’ve been so oblivious.” He’s made himself laugh now. 

You lean forward and smack him on the bicep, and even though it is a firm hit, there’s no malice in it, especially with that smile on your face. He’s not wrong at all—you have been oblivious. 

Sirius falls back dramatically onto the couch, feigning severe pain. “Fuck, you’ve wounded me.”

You roll your eyes, watching how he clutches his arm and gasps for air. His braids are splayed out, his cheeks a shade of rosy pink. He looks so…gorgeous. You’re in awe of him. It’s like when you stare at the statue of David, just completely entranced by how beautiful this man made of marble is. That’s how looking at Sirius feels. Taking in something so soft and knowing it should be handled with care. 

You hold out your hands, wiggling your fingers. “Alright, come on. You’ll recover.”

Sirius grabs hold of you, allowing you to hoist him up. When you do, you could easily touch noses. There’s a new tension in the room, one you’re sure anyone would be able to feel if there were more people there. 

You look down when you realize Sirius hasn’t let go of your hands. “So, what do you say?” he asks, bringing your attention back to his face.

Say something, you tell yourself. You’re just staring at each other, and you’ve got to speak. Your heart is pounding, rattling your rib cage. You want to have all of these experiences, you really do, but it’s also so terrifying to think about the vulnerability that comes with them. Though…it’s Sirius. And if you’re being truly honest, you’ve always wished it’d be him. That he’d look at you…the way he is now.

“I—I’d really like that. If you’d really like to deal with my clumsiness and all.” You give him a shy smile, and suddenly he’s threading his fingers with yours. He raises his hands, forcing you to do the same. Your fingers are intertwined, his hand engulfing yours, which is undoubtedly much smaller. 

You’re holding hands.

“Look, love. Now you’ve held hands romantically.” He laughs a little at the look on your face, one he’s sure is a result of the awe you’re in. You’ve never done this before. It feels so nice to have his hands in yours. They’re so warm, and sparks are shooting up your wrists. You feel giddy. 

You bite your lip in an effort to suppress the excitement that is practically begging to come out. He sees it though. “Is this making you happy, darling?” he asks. You nod enthusiastically, your ears burning. “Perfect. And about what you said, I did warn you that I was head over heels for you, so I might be so weak in the knees that I’ll be clumsy too.” He winks.

You squeeze his fingers experimentally. A little nervously. “You’re sure you want to do all this with me?”

Sirius squeezes back, his thumbs rubbing over your skin. “Of course I am. You trust me, don’t you?” He already knows the answer to that, but how could he not make sure that you feel safe with him?

“Always,” you say. 

“Good.” He glances down at your clasped fingers. “Wanna keep holding hands? It’s rather nice, isn’t it?”

You giggle, and he swears his insides turn to jelly at how sweet the sound is. “I think I’ve been spoiled now,” you say. “I might always want to hold your hands.”

Sirius presses a gentle kiss to your knuckle, locking eyes with you as he does it. Your heart kicks against your throat, your chest aching with the lack of air you’re getting. 

“You think you’re spoiled now? Best prepare yourself then, love.”

————

Sirius was right.

And that was confirmed when he gave you your first real hug. Not the quick hug you give your grandmother or your friend on the way out the door. But one of those hugs you’ve always seen in muggle romantic comedies or read about in your novels. The kind of hug you’ve never been able to fully wrap your mind around, but have imagined more than is healthy. When you lay in bed at night, clutching your teddy bear and wishing you could feel someone with you. 

He gave you your first romantic hug. And you’ve requested one each time he’s available. 

The request came after dinner one night, when he was watching you diligently scoop ice cream into a cone for him. Because you wanted to. Sirius hated to boost his own ego, but he had to admit that the way you had changed since furthering your relationship with him had you glowing. It’s not that you weren’t happy before, because you were, but this is different. It’s like he’s unlocked this vault inside of you, one where you’ve stored all this love and kindness, and he gets to experience it. 

He’s never seen you so…free. 

You’d set the ice cream cone down on the counter for him. “Ta-da,” you said, sticking the spoon back in the container and waiting for him to pick his toppings. He did so, admiring how you’d chosen things you knew he liked, how you were so giddy just from this moment. Your hair was a mess and you were wiping the stickiness from your fingers and he was so overwhelmed by you. 

“Sweetheart?” He’d asked, eyeing you as you did a happy little wiggle when you took a bite of the cheesecake ice cream you’d found earlier in the week. Your eyes found his, all doe-like, and your nose wrinkled because of how the pet name flustered you. 

He’d been trying those out too, and while getting you to do the same had been slow-going because of your nerves, you loved when he used them for you. 

You’d put down your spoon and hummed. “Yeah?”

He stepped closer to you. “Can I hug you, love?”

Your breath had caught, and at the same time that you were feeling immensely nervous and flustered, you were so excited. So excited to be hugged properly and by someone you were over the moon for. 

“Please?” 

You smiled and he laughed boyishly, moving in until your chests were almost touching. Your pulse hammered against your wrist. 

Sirius bent slightly, allowing you to rise up on your toes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, locking them snuggly against your back. Yours went around his neck, squeezing his shoulders. The entirety of his front pressed to yours, and he was so warm. 

Your fingers tentatively moved into the hair at the base of his neck, and you tucked your face into his neck, where he immediately felt your smile against his skin. 

Suddenly, Sirius had secured his arms tightly around you and lifted you up into the air, hoping to make you laugh. To show how giddy he was feeling. Because in truth, holding you like this, having you be his, filled a void in him he wasn’t even aware of. You were quickly becoming the air he breathed and everything in between. 

You kicked your feet and chuckled into his shoulder. He set you back down on the floor, and you hugged him for a bit longer. His were all-embracing, and in his arms, somehow all of your thoughts were immediately shut off, as if this was all the world consisted of. For Sirius, your hug made him feel as though this was the safest place he could ever be, and he knew it would be where he should go when he needed security. And you had this way of getting him to focus, to calm down and be present. 

Needless to say, you were both falling for each other. Though it should be mentioned that he’d already started before your relationship furthered, and you had suppressed your heart-eyes for him only because you never thought this kind of feeling was real. That it would be impossible for a boy to treat you this way. You try to let the little girl in you who always hoped for a fairytale romance celebrate every now and then.

There hasn’t been a label put on your relationship, but one night before you got there to hang out with everyone, Sirius calmly told the boys (and girls) that things between you had escalated to more-than-friends. And while they know you, it still felt right to make sure they wouldn’t pester you. 

In fact, they were overjoyed to see the both of you act so sweetly towards one another. James whispered in Lily’s ear more than once about how Sirius could not seem to take his eyes off you. Remus helped you in the kitchen and told you how nice it was seeing you so happy. So light. He’d given you a quick hug and wished you the best.

You have never felt so at ease.

Sirius has taken you on a number of dates at this point, some quaint and intimate, some more outgoing. You’ve held hands, hugged. You even got to cuddle with him on the couch. 

But you haven’t kissed. 

And you want to kiss him, so very bad.

But that is terrifying. 

All of your fears revolving that form of affection rush to the surface each time you contemplate when would be best to kiss him, if he wants to kiss you. What if you’re broken and you don’t feel anything? What if there’s no spark? What if, after all this time of hoping kissing would be enjoyable, after craving that intimacy, it just doesn’t work?

Every time you’re around him, all you want is to kiss him. You want that beautiful, sarcastic mouth on yours. You want to know what his plush lips feel like and learn how to kiss properly. You want to fluster him, and you want to be flustered. You want this. 

If you asked Sirius, you’d know he wants the same thing. Truthfully, he wants to pin you to the wall and kiss you silly. Until you forget every worry and anything that’s made you sad. Until all you feel is him. He wants to smother your pretty face in kisses. He wants to kiss every inch of you. 

Tonight, you’re going to Sirius’ place for a sleepover. And you are going to be brave and kiss him.  

————

Your socked feet are in Sirius’ lap, where he’s pushed your pajama pants up your calves so that he can rub his hands across the soft skin there.

Every once in a while, he’ll tickle the underside of your knee just to get you to giggle.

You’ve stopped paying any attention to the movie, and instead are looking at him. The only light in his small living room comes from the television and the array of eclectic lamps scattered around any surface he could fit one on. 

It casts shadows on his face, elongating that beautiful nose and the hollows of his cheekbones. His gray eyes look so dark, like storm clouds right before they let out all the rain they’ve been holding in. 

“Love?”

Sirius’ voice snaps you and your pounding heart out of your reverie. Your eyes lock with his, and you feel yourself heat up all over. He’s smiling at you. 

“Can you tell me what’s happening in the movie?” he asks you, crossing his arms in that oh so cocky way. 

Your thumb finds your bottom lip, picking at the skin there and trying to disguise the smile pulling at the corners of your lips. You shake your head, shyly. 

He straightens and leans in closer to you. “And why’s that, sweetheart?”

He has a hunch, but he wants you to say what’s on your mind, and you know that’s exactly what he’s waiting for. You know he could sit here all night until you spill your guts. 

“‘Cause I’ve been thinking about how bad I wanna kiss you.”

Sirius blushes, but he turns on the charm just as quickly. “Yeah? What’s stopping you?”

He places his hands on your knees. “I’m nervous,” you tell him. “You know I’ll be bad at it, and it might suck because of me, and even if all I want to do is kiss your sweet face, I just…want it to be good.”

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek. “Well, you know if it’s bad, that just means we get to practice.” You snort, and he rests his forehead against yours in an effort to console you and your nerves. 

You pull back and put your hands on his chest. It takes everything in you not to grin at how hard his heart is beating, especially with the swell of pride you feel knowing you’re the cause of that. 

“I really want to kiss you, Sirius.”

“I really want you to kiss me, darling.”

You inhale, scrunching your nose at him. At this point, you’ve got heart palpitations that are only going to get worse if you don’t act on this. 

“Meet me halfway?” you ask, tentatively. 

Sirius cups your face, leaning in slightly, but leaving you room to initiate. “Of course,” he breathes. 

You take hold of his wrists, fingers trembling. The feeling of his pulse both calms you and makes you sweat. 

You move forward, tilting your head to the side a little so you don’t smack noses. You can infer that much, at least. He inches closer each time you do, matching your pace. It almost makes you want to laugh at how slow and careful this is. You could also cry. 

When you’re close enough to feel his breath against your lips, you let your eyes close fully, as they’d been helping you find your mark so far. He meets you that last inch, and you are so grateful. 

Your lips finally touch in a short, but firm peck. You pull away, smiling, reveling in how soft his lips are. 

But now that Sirius has had a little taste of you, he can’t help but want more. He guides you back to him, helping you find a rhythm together. He slots your bottom lip between his, kissing you so brilliantly your brain empties of all thought. You do your best to kiss him back, albeit a little clumsily. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

You catch on when he takes turns paying attention to each of your lips, and you try and press all of the passion you feel right back into his. 

Every worry you previously had is gone.

You do feel that spark. It feels so magical, so all-encompassing, to be kissed like this. To have Sirius kiss you. 

You’re breathless. 

When Sirius finally pulls back for air, he presses kisses to your jaw and down your throat. The affection is so close to drawing a whimper from your throat. You know immediately that you could get drunk off of him. 

You pull him back up to you by his hair for one more short kiss and he grins boyishly into it. 

He starts to laugh. 

“Shit,” you start. “If I thought I was spoiled before, I really had no idea what was coming to me.”

Sirius tosses his head back, completely infatuated with you and so fucking gleeful at being yours. Because he is. Yours. 

“You’re gonna get sick of me,” you say. “Now I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Oh, love,” Sirius exhales. “What makes you think you’ll have a moment where I’m not the one addicted to you?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part IX

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light fluff, light angst, slight violence

Words: 4817

The narrow, dimly lit alley was eerily quiet, save for the soft shuffle of boots on cobblestone. Two figures move with purposeful grace, their sharp gaze scanning the path ahead.

“Queens don’t usually involve themselves in investigations and missions like this,” Steve remarks pointedly, casting a sidelong glance at the concealed figure beside him. 

“That’s not true,” Natasha counters smoothly, not breaking stride. “My parents didn’t stand on the sidelines when they were king and queen. They were always involved. Besides, she’s my sister,” she adds firmly. “It’s my responsibility to know what she’s up to.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. 

“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with avoiding your mother’s request for some of your time today.”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, choosing to say nothing as her response, but that silence is answer enough.

Steve sighs knowingly. 

“If you don’t want a big celebration for your birthday, you can just tell her.”

Natasha’s mouth twists slightly, though her hood hides the expression from him. 

It wasn’t the celebration itself that she had a problem with. 

The real issue was that no matter how extravagant or intimate the event, it wouldn’t change the fact that she couldn’t spend the day with the one person she wanted to celebrate it with the most. 

Her thoughts flicker back to last year. 

Of how the supposedly joyous occasion had instead become a day marred by chaos and trauma. 

She had hoped this year could be different—a chance to create a new memory of happiness to replace the past. 

But with circumstances as they are, that hope seems far-fetched.

Natasha lets out a quiet sigh, pushing the thought aside. 

There was no use dwelling on it now. She’ll just accept whatever idea her mother comes up with when she returns.

Refocusing, she turns her attention to their current mission: finding Yelena and figuring out exactly what she’d gotten herself into this time.

The investigation had led them to this part of town, notorious for its shady dealings and less-than-reputable characters. 

Natasha’s sharp eyes dart to the buildings they pass, noting the darkened windows and wary faces that peeked out from behind curtains.

As they go deeper into the streets, more signs of life emerge, yet it’s still strangely hushed, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Natasha notices something else, too. The way the crowd parted as they walked, people giving them a wide berth. 

Suspicious glances were thrown their way, not at her—her cloak did well to obscure her identity—but at Steve. 

The towering blond man was receiving a mix of wary and curious looks, and it didn’t take much to figure out why. 

Natasha sighs again, this time with a hint of exasperation. 

“No offense, Steve,” she begins, her voice carrying a dry edge, “but you’re terrible at blending in.”

Steve glances down at himself, confused. His attire was casual, certainly nothing out of the ordinary—simple trousers, a loose shirt, and a cloak. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely puzzled. 

She gestures toward him. 

“Your posture, your stance. The way you carry yourself. It screams ‘knight.’” 

Steve straightens reflexively at her comment, clearly unsure whether to take it as a compliment or a criticism. 

“I’m just walking.”

“You’re marching,” Natasha corrects, her tone flat. “Head high, shoulders back, always scanning like you’re guarding someone.”

“That’s cause I am,” Steve points out, only half-defensively.

Natasha rolls her eyes and continues down the path with her leading the way as Steve falls a step behind, attempting—unsuccessfully—to appear less imposing. 

As they round a corner, the faint sound of barking reaches Natasha’s ears. Her eyes scan the area, and she spots two dogs just outside a tavern. 

At first glance, their coats muddied and darkened with soot nearly fool her, but when Natasha observes them closer, she recognizes the familiarity. 

Narrowing her eyes, Natasha whistles softly, a distinct sound she knew only a select few would recognize. 

One of the dogs immediately perks up, its ears twitching. It turns toward her, tail wagging enthusiastically, before trotting over with a familiar bounce. 

“Hey, Fanny,” Natasha greets, crouching slightly to pat the dog’s head. Her voice carries a mix of affection and exasperation. “Where’s Yelena?” 

The dog barks once in response before turning toward the tavern door, her nose pointing unmistakably in its direction.

Natasha straightens with a sigh.

“I’m guessing Kate’s with her too,” Steve remarks, his eyes drifting to the other dog in the distance. He sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “As a knight in training, she should know better than to let Yelena be in places like this.” 

“Trust me,” Natasha says knowingly. “I’m sure she tried her best to stop her. This is Yelena we’re talking about.” 

Her focus shifts to Kate's dog, Lucky, who is still barking excitedly at something high in the air. 

Frowning, Natasha tilts her head, trying to glimpse whatever had captured the dog’s attention. 

Her heart stops when she notices the faint outline of a bird circling above—and the unmistakable flash of red feathers on one of the wings.

“Steve,” Natasha says sharply, grabbing his arm and pointing toward the falcon. “Tell me that’s just some random bird.”

Steve follows her line of sight, his jaw tightening as he hesitates. Finally, he lets out a low, noncommittal sound, which only confirm her suspicions.

Natasha exhales a long, frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, wondering why in the world you are in such a dangerous part of town.

Steve must’ve mistaken her reaction for nervousness to meet with you again after witnessing the small confrontation between you and her during the council meeting. 

“You want to stay out here while I go in?” Steve offers, already stepping forward. 

Natasha stops him with a wave of her hand. 

“No. You’ll draw too much attention in there,” she says. “Stay here and secure the perimeter.” 

Steve nods reluctantly, stepping back as Natasha moves to step inside. 

The moment she enters, a wave of noise and activity hits her. Natasha’s eyes quickly scan the space, taking note of exits, potential threats, and the clusters of people gathered in conversation. 

Her attention is soon drawn to a commotion at the far end of the room. 

Rowdy onlookers surround a table, their cheers and jeers rising above the din. As she moves closer, fragments of conversation reach her ears, punctuated by a familiar voice.

“Aww, is the big man scared?” a teasing tone rings out, followed by a roar of laughter from the crowd.

Natasha sighs exasperatedly, muttering under her breath, “Yelena…” 

The crowd shifts, giving her a clearer view of the table. 

There was her sister, masked and oddly sporting black hair but unmistakable as she leaned back in her chair with an infuriatingly confident grin. 

Across from her sat a burly man, his face red with anger as he glared at his cards. 

Behind Yelena, another figure stands nervously—a masked woman fidgeting with the bow strapped on her back. 

“Kate,” Natasha murmurs, shaking her head.

Her gaze sweeps the crowd once more until it finally lands on you. 

You were blending in among the other patrons, partially obscured by the hood of your cloak, but to Natasha, you always stand out above everyone else in her eyes.

Natasha immediately moves toward you, weaving her way through the crowd. 

As she approaches, she notices your body tense as your gaze locks onto something at the table. 

Natasha follows your line of sight, her expression frowning when she sees what had caused your reaction. 

Yelena was casually twirling a dagger in her hand, the blade catching the light. 

Natasha’s frown deepens when she realizes it wasn’t just any dagger—it was the one she had lent Yelena, the one you had gifted her. 

And Yelena appears to be contemplating using it as part of her wager.

At the possibility, Natasha could see the tension increase in your frame, the way you clench your fists and begin to step forward. 

Not wanting you to be in the middle of a confrontation, Natasha reacts instinctively, reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you back into the cover of the crowd. 

What she didn’t expect was for you to jab your elbow sharply into her side. 

The sudden impact made her loosen her grip slightly, though she didn’t entirely let go. 

Instead, she tilts her head to meet your gaze, her hood revealing just enough for you to recognize her. 

“Natasha?” you hiss, your tone both surprised and accusatory. 

Natasha rubs the spot where you’d elbowed her, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the situation. 

“Not bad,” she remarks, a note of pride in her voice. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, flustered. 

Moving closer, you instinctively rub soothing circles on the spot you had hit before your eyes widen in realization. 

“Wait a second!” you continue, giving her a softer but reprimanding smack on the arm. “You’re not even supposed to be here! What are you doing here?” 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, throwing the question right back at you. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Your eyes widen as if remembering the reason for your presence here, and you hesitate, your eyes darting away. 

Natasha recognizes the look immediately—it was the one you always wore when you were about to dodge a subject. 

Before she could press further, you shake your head and deflect the conversation. 

“Why does Yelena have the gift I gave you?” you ask, your tone sharp.

“I let her borrow it,” Natasha replies simply, though her voice carries an edge of regret now.

“Well, she’s about to bet it in a game of cards,” you snap back, frustration clear.

Natasha’s brows furrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I’m sure Yelena is just messing around. She wouldn’t—”

“All right, all in!” Yelena’s voice rings out, triumphant and smug.

Natasha’s jaw drops, her eyes snapping up. 

“I’m going to kill her,” she growls, about to push through the crowd, but you hold her arms, stopping her in her tracks and blocking her way. 

“You can’t risk revealing yourself here, Natasha,” you whisper in warning, your voice low but firm. “Think about it—one wrong move, and everyone in this room will know who you are.” 

Natasha pauses, her gaze flickering between you and the other shady characters around her, weighing her options. More than half of them probably wouldn’t hesitate to attack or try to capture and use who she is for their own gain.

Knowing you’re right, she exhales sharply and gives you a curt nod in agreement to stay put.

The two of you turn to watch as the game proceeds.

Despite the precarious situation, Natasha can’t help but feel her focus shift momentarily when your hand finds hers, gently pulling it around your midsection.

The inviting gesture is instinctive–natural–as though you belong there in her arms. 

Natasha’s hold tightens slightly, drawing you closer until your back rests entirely against her. Her chin dips subtly, brushing against the edge of your hood, and she allows herself a moment to simply exist in the comfort of your warmth. 

The chaotic noise of the tavern fades just a little, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Like always, you fit perfectly against her, a seamless connection that feels as familiar as it is grounding. 

Natasha’s fingers spread against your midsection, her touch firm yet protective, as if anchoring you to her in this swirling world of chaos.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips, one that she doesn’t even try to suppress. 

If she could stay like this—holding you close, feeling your warmth and presence—she wouldn’t ask for anything more. 

To stay in this moment, that would be her perfect wish for her birthday: no grand celebrations, no feasts, just you in her arms, safe and near.

But the moment is fleeting.

Natasha’s attention is pulled away when the crowd erupts with cheers and groans. She stiffens slightly, her gaze snapping back to the table. 

Yelena is standing now, triumphant as she gathers her winnings, your gift safely returned to her side.

You release a sigh of relief, relaxing back against Natasha as the possible conflict appears to subside. 

Her arms remain around you for a moment longer, her protective instincts keeping you close, but her eyes also focus on her sister to ensure her safety too. 

As Yelena turns to leave, the burly man across from her slams his fists onto the surface. The noise reverberates through the room, silencing the crowd and drawing every gaze to him.

“You think you can just make a fool out of me, take my money, and walk away?” he growls, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands, towering over Yelena. 

“Sit back down. We’re playing another round.”

Yelena’s masked face tilts slightly, her body language relaxed, almost amused. 

“Sorry, big guy,” she says airily. “A deal’s a deal. You lost. Better luck next time.”

The man’s hand darts out, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip. 

“I said sit down,” he snarls, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.

Standing just behind Yelena, Kate freezes, her hand twitching toward her bow, but she hesitates, clearly unsure how to proceed. 

Natasha tenses, her protective instincts flaring as she starts to move forward.

“No,” you whisper sharply, stopping her with a firm grip on her arm. “You can’t.”

Her head snaps to you, disbelief flashing in her eyes. 

“He’s threatening my sister,” she hisses, her voice low but deadly.

“And if you step in, they might recognize you, and we’ll have an even bigger problem,” you remind her, your voice calm but insistent. “Let me handle this.”

“Handle it?” Natasha repeats incredulously, her gaze flicking between you and the escalating situation at the table. “How?”

“Just trust me,” you say, already stepping forward before she can stop you.

Natasha clenches her fists, her jaw tightening as she watches you approach the table. 

Her every instinct screams to intervene, but she forces herself to stay put, trusting you despite the growing knot of worry in her chest. 

You slip through the crowd, your movements calm and deliberate, raising your hands in a placating gesture as you approach the table. 

“Now, let’s not let a friendly game turn into something regrettable,” you say, your voice carrying just enough authority to catch everyone’s attention. 

The burly man turns his glare to you, his grip on Yelena’s arm tightening. His eyes raked over you suspiciously. 

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, his tone dripping with hostility. 

Without a word, you reach up and lower your hood, revealing your face.

“I’m Lady Y/n Dreykov.”

Kate audibly sucked in a breath. “Oh…”

“…shit,” Yelena finishes for her, her voice tinged with surprise and apprehension. 

Your house title is usually effective in any scenario, though with recent events, the response is slightly different than the previous caution and fear. Around the room, murmured whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

“Hold on…Dreykov? As in the traitors?”

“Never imagined their house would fall this low…” 

Natasha’s hands curled into fists, her anger bubbling to the surface at the words directed at you. 

Nearby, a particularly unpleasant man pushes forward through the crowd, his smirk leering. 

“Well, if the lady wants a friend to play with, I can show her how friendly we are down here,” he slurs with a disgusting grin. 

As he passes Natasha, his shoulder pushing hers, she acts in a swift, calculated motion. 

With a discreet move, she stomps down hard on his foot. The man yelps, doubling over in pain, and Natasha smoothly delivers a sharp punch to his stomach. He collapses to the ground with a strangled heave, clutching his midsection as he remains in his prone position.

Natasha casually resumes her stance, her expression neutral as she glances around the room. The other patrons barely notice, dismissing the man’s collapse as the effects of too much alcohol. 

Meanwhile, you remain composed and unflinching despite the murmurs around you, your attention focused solely on the man still holding Yelena’s arm. 

“How about another game?” you offer, your tone calm but laced with subtle authority.

The man’s eyes narrow, suspicion and pride warring on his face. “With you?” 

Without answering, you reach into your cloak and pull out a hefty pouch of coins, setting it on the table with a deliberate thud. The clinking of the coins is unmistakable, drawing the attention of the entire room. 

The man’s gaze flicks to the pouch, his expression shifting slightly. The allure of more money is clear in his eyes, but so is his wariness. 

After a long pause, he releases Yelena, who is quickly pulled away to a safe distance by Kate, and sits back down, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“All right,” he said, his voice low and gruff. “Let’s see if you’re as lucky as that brat is.”

You smile faintly, taking your seat.  

Among the crowd, Natasha watches closely, her eyes never leaving you. 

Despite the situation, a light smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she watches you pick up the deck of cards and begin shuffling. She knows better than anyone that luck has little to do with your skill. 

Games, puzzles, strategy—these have always been your strong suit. Natasha learned long ago never to challenge you to anything like that without careful planning or calculated risks.

“Let’s all just have a good time,” you say, your voice smooth and pleasant, as you deal the cards. 

That same enchanting smile Natasha knows so well graces your lips, the kind of smile that always manages to lower defenses and captivate attention.

The game begins, and as Natasha predicted, you quickly prove yourself. 

Each move you make is calculated and deliberate, a balance of strategy and subtlety. Unlike Yelena’s bold, audacious style, your approach is graceful and humble, drawing in the crowd with your calm confidence. 

The tension that previously dominated the room dissipates, replaced by a calmer atmosphere of camaraderie. The cutthroat gambling match now feels more like a friendly game among peers. 

Even your opponent, whose gruff exterior seemed impenetrable, starts to show hints of amusement. 

Laughter and cheers ripple through the room with every round, and the growing excitement draws an even larger crowd. The press of bodies around the table pushes Natasha forward slightly, giving her a better view of the unfolding scene. 

Impressed murmurs rise from the onlookers until one in particular catches her attention.

“Can you believe this, Happy?” a voice nearby cuts through the noise. “You give her some money for a drink, and she spends it on a game instead.” 

Natasha’s brows furrow at the words, her gaze discreetly scanning the crowd for the source, but with so many people packed tightly around her, it’s difficult to pinpoint. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she notices something that makes her stomach tighten with unease—a faint yellow glow emanating from beneath a cloaked figure’s arm before it’s quickly concealed. 

Natasha’s instincts flare. Her eyes lock onto the figure, who she realizes is weaving steadily through the crowd toward the table—toward you. 

Immediately, Natasha moves to follow, her focus trained on the cloaked individual as she slips through the crowd. She edges closer toward the center, her eyes never leaving the figure, until she reaches Yelena and Kate’s position at the edge of the gathering.  

Reaching their side, Natasha places a hand on Yelena’s shoulder, startling her younger sister slightly. Yelena looks up abruptly, her mouth falling open in recognition. Before Yelena can say a word, Natasha’s expression hardens, and she gives her a stern warning glare. 

The message is clear: Stay quiet and stay back.

Natasha ushers Yelena and Kate behind her, positioning herself as a barrier between them and whatever threat there might be. 

Her focus snaps back to the figure just as they reach the front of the crowd, their attention fixed solely on you. 

At that moment, the game reaches its climax with another of your perfectly executed moves. Cheers erupt from the crowd as you lay your cards on the table. 

The burly man opposite you grumbles, his frustration masked by the impressed grin he offers. Coins clink as they are added to your growing pile of winnings, and the lively energy in the room swelled.

Then it happened. 

Taking advantage of the eruption of cheers and laughter, the cloaked figure lunges forward, their gloved hand outstretched with a glowing stone aimed directly at you.

Natasha reacts immediately, her body moving faster than her thoughts as she rushes toward the attacker. Just as she is about to reach them, another blur of motion also intercepts the figure’s strike at the same time.

A stranger appears between you and the attacker. 

Natasha pauses for a split second, her mind registering that this new figure was also equipped with a glove strikingly similar to the attacker’s, except without the glowing hue.

The stranger’s gloved hand shoots out, meeting the attacker’s mid-lunge, the impact emitting a sharp, resonant hum. A sudden force erupts between the gloves, repelling the attacker’s hand backward, away from you.

With the attack directed at you momentarily thwarted, Natasha seizes the opportunity. 

Her hand darts out, grabbing the attacker’s wrist with a steely grip. But as her fingers brushed against the glowing stone embedded in the glove, her mind was yanked somewhere else entirely.

For a split second, she wasn’t in the tavern. Instead, she was back in that hauntingly vivid moment—that moment. 

Blood spilled across her hands as you lay crumpled in her arms, your face pale and your breathing faint. The weight of helplessness and fear pressed down on her chest as she screamed your name, her voice raw and desperate.

Natasha gasps sharply, shaking herself free of the memory with a force of will. She focuses on the present, channeling her rattled emotions into action. 

With a fluid, precise maneuver, she twists the attacker’s wrist and uses their momentum against them. In one seamless motion, she flips them onto the table. The wood splinters beneath the force, shattering on impact, and a bright light explodes and fills the room. 

Coins scattered everywhere, clinking against the floor in a chaotic cacophony. 

Immediately, the tavern erupts into chaos. Some people surge forward, scrambling for the spilled coins, while others take advantage of the confusion to pick fights. Shouts and crashes fill the air. 

Natasha stands amidst the chaos, her chest heaving as her breathing turns shallow and erratic. Her gaze remains locked on the now dimming stone at the downed figure’s side, suspicion and unease growing in her chest. 

The vision—the memory—lingers in her mind, vivid and suffocating. She couldn’t shake the image of your blood on her hands.

But then a warm, familiar touch cups her face gently, breaking through her spiraling thoughts. 

Her wide, unfocused eyes meet yours, and though your lips are moving, she couldn’t hear the words. It felt distant, muffled by the storm raging in her mind.

Slowly, the sounds of the room begin to return—the shouting, the clamor of fists and chairs—but your voice is what brings her back. 

“Natasha,” you repeat, your tone firm yet soothing. “Look at me. Are you okay?” 

Her gaze locks on your searching ones, the chaotic storm in her mind settling slightly as she absently nods, grounding herself in your presence. Then her eyes dart around, taking in the havoc unfolding around you. 

“We need to go,” she says abruptly, her voice regaining its strength. She grabs your hand firmly, pulling you through the crowd. With practiced efficiency, she navigates the chaos, quickly locating Kate and Yelena near the back of the room. 

“Move!” Natasha commands, ushering the two younger women ahead of her as she keeps you close at her side. Together, the four of you slip out into the night, the muffled sounds of chaos fading behind you. 

Outside, Natasha leads you to a quiet alley, her breathing still uneven. She leans against the wall, her hand gripping your arm as though grounding herself further. 

The glowing stone haunts her thoughts, and the memory it brought up lingers in the back of her mind. But when she looks at you, alive and whole in front of her, she feels the faintest flicker of relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, brushing your hand over hers.

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Natasha nods quick but stiffly, her lips pressing into a tight line. 

“I’m fine,” she says, though the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her. “We’re fine.”

Before you could press further, Steve’s voice emerges from the shadows, his gaze scanning over the four of you with concern. “Everyone okay? What happened in there?”

“Nat started a bar fight by throwing a guy,” Yelena answers plainly, her tone far too nonchalant for the situation. 

Natasha releases a deep breath, scoffing in disbelief as she straightens and turns to glare at her sister. 

“You mean, saving your ass from getting killed. What were you thinking, Yelena, going into a place like that and provoking them?”

Before the argument can escalate, you step in front of Natasha, placing a calming hand on her arm. Across from you, Kate mirrors your actions, gently restraining Yelena. Together, the two of you create a barrier between the sisters, preventing the brewing storm from erupting. 

A low whistle interrupts the tension, drawing everyone’s attention to the side of the group. 

Natasha turns her head sharply, her eyes locking onto the same stranger who had intervened during the tavern fight. He was approaching them with another man following close behind. 

“Like I said,” the stranger says with a smirk, his words Natasha realizes directed at you, “you really know how to attract trouble, huh?” 

Natasha’s gaze flicks to you, finding your expression twisted into an annoyed scowl. A deep sigh escapes your lips, and your hand instinctively pushes Natasha slightly behind you, as if shielding her from view. 

“You didn’t need to step in,” you say, your tone sharp and clipped.

“Clearly,” the stranger replies smoothly, his eyes flickering across the group before settling on Natasha. His gaze drops briefly to your hand on her arm, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Looks like you’ve got more people protecting you than just those little twins.”

He nudges the man beside him. “Look, Happy, she even has a knight playing dress-up.”

Natasha shoots a pointed look at Steve, her expression screaming I told you so. 

Steve sighs, clearly catching her unspoken message, and shifts his attention to the stranger, his posture tightening as his eyes narrowed slightly. 

“We should probably go, sir,” the man named Happy suggests quietly, eyeing the group warily.

“Yes, please do,” you snap, your irritation palpable.

Natasha’s brows furrow as she watches you. She’d never seen you this short-tempered with someone before. 

The stranger’s smirk only widens at your tone.

“Fair enough,” he says, turning to leave with a wave of his hand. “Oh, and a small warning,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder, “you’d better bring her home safely. There’s a little redhead who’ll throw a tantrum if you don’t.”

Natasha catches your irritated sigh as you turn back toward her. Tilting her head slightly, she asks, “Who was that?”

You exhale deeply, running a hand over your face. 

“Just ignore him,” you mutter. “He’s someone I hired to help fix the gate at my manor.” 

Natasha opens her mouth to press further, but her sharp instincts catch movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns swiftly, her gaze zeroing in on the two figures attempting to slip away unnoticed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Natasha calls out, her voice sharp as a whip.

Yelena freezes mid-step, groaning loudly before turning back around to face her sister. 

“What?” she asks, her tone feigning innocence as her arms crossed over her chest.

Natasha crosses her own arms, leveling an unimpressed glare at Yelena before shifting her focus to Kate, who stands awkwardly beside her. Under Natasha’s intense scrutiny, Kate caves quickly.

“Yelena made me promise not to tell you!” Kate blurts out, pointing at Yelena as if to absolve herself of guilt. 

“Really, Kate Bishop?” Yelena gasps, swatting Kate’s hand down. “Where is the loyalty?”

The two begin bickering, their voices overlapping as they try to blame each other for the current situation. Natasha closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly in exhaustion.

Steve interrupts the argument with a firm clap of his hands. 

“Can we continue this somewhere safer?”

You glance around the dark alley, your expression skeptical. 

“Is there even such a place around here?”

Yelena raises her hand with a slight, proud smirk.

“I know one.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: Thank you for the sweet messages about this series. I'm glad to see that you all are excited whenever there's an update. Again, thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox

[giuliettagaltieri]

Swarm of Bees

Pairing: Fiancé!Gojō x Fiancée!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warning: angst, arranged marriage, age gap, hints of dacryphilia, Gojō is a bully at heart.

Word Count: 1596

3 of 9

There are many things that Gojō Satoru hates.

One, the higher ups of the jujutsu society.

Two, when people say “No offense, but…” And proceed to insult him.

Three, people who get in his way.

And four, when he is not getting the attention he deserves.

In the past few years, Gojō has been working as a teacher in the Jujutsu High.  He still leaves for missions, it was only expected as he is the strongest sorcerer.  But he stays in the school quite often compared to when he was a field sorcerer.

And quite frankly, he expected more visits from a certain someone.

But he never got them anymore.

Shoko would often put out her cigarette to drop her face on her palms whenever Gojō talks about this.  And he cannot understand why she does that.

From time to time, he receives gifts from you.  But no more letters.  Nothing that adds a personal touch from you.  Just food.  As if you’re sending them so he won’t forget you existed.

But if he were to be asked, forgetting you was impossible as your time to be wedded comes closer and closer.

And now, you are celebrating your 20th naming day.

You turned into a beautiful young lady.  Truly worthy of him. 

But much to his aggravation, it seems like many took notice of your change too.

Men from different clans were hovering over you. 

Greeting you, complimenting you about the simplest of things.  It made something inside him itch and it bothered him to no end.

They only liked you now because you turned out to be a well-polished woman.  They did not see you with snot on your nose as you wailed after scraping your knee, which he absolutely had no involvement whatsoever or when your face bubbled like a squirrel when you did not get your way.

“You’re pouting.”  Shoko comments as she sips on her glass of champagne.

The celebration was at its peak.  The musical ensemble was playing a lively tune and gossips and giggles were filling the floral air of your estate house.

And you, the center of the event.

Almost every pair of eyes were on you.

Gone was the shy little lady of your house.  You are now a woman who is ready to take her first steps into society.  You were like a fresh fruit, ripe for the taking.  Had it not been for Gojō’s presence, many insolent men would have asked, no, begged for your hand right then.

Your hair glittered with every turn of your head.  Your painted lips curving up to a perfect smile whenever a gentleman compliments you.  Yet the innocent smile is always paired with the haughty spark in your eyes as you decline their offer to dance.

It was the fourth time that you declined an offer in the same hour.

And Gojō Satoru cannot stand to watch such blatant disrespect any longer.

Both Shoko and Nanami follow him with their watching eyes as he makes his way to you.  Their feet are ready to move as soon as the man makes a fool of himself or starts a fit in the middle of your perfect evening.  Or both.

They were at the edge of their seats when Gojō clears his throat to catch your attention.  The two of them watch very closely for any sudden movement from any of you.

But like fluid from the most graceful of waterfalls, you rise from your seat, standing on the tip of your toes to lean on Gojō’s chest.

All breaths halted at your action, including the man you were smiling up to.  His crystalline blue eyes watching you, almost calculating your every move.  But you smile slyly at him as your fingers trace his jaw and your lips find his cheek.

“I am delighted to see you.  But I am terribly sorry Gojō-sama, I would have to decline.”  Your thumb caresses his cold cheek.  “My dance card is full for the evening.”

Like a nymph, you slide away from him to accept the hand of a young man who was waiting for you.  And Gojō can only watch as you are being guided to the center of the floor.  

And you danced so beautifully.

The itch turned into a burn.  And Gojō had to sit the entire evening with such sensation nesting in his chest, almost clawing out into a form of aggression.

Whenever your dance partner spins you or their gloved hands wander closely to your bottom, Gojō has to quell the urge to pummel them to the ground.  He did not quite understand the urge to do so.  But after having the feeling for the rest of the night, he has come to terms with it.  Given up on trying to understand the impulse and just settled with the idea that every man who speaks with you is disrespecting him.

And you.

Oh, he is so cross with you.

How dare you fill in your dance card without reserving even a single dance for him.  Have you forgotten that you are betrothed to him?  Or do you just fancy the little game you are playing?  Acting as if he is not around.

The clock hand tells that the night was no longer young.  But you were still being twirled around in the middle of the dance hall.  It was your final dance for the evening.  And by the slight delay in your steps, he is well aware that you are exhausted from dancing for hours.

By the time the last note travels through the air, Gojō was already on his feet and marching towards you. 

You took no notice of course as you were smiling brightly at your dance partner as he bowed to place a kiss on your gloved hand.

But before his lips could touch you, Gojō Satoru unceremoniously grabs you by your midriff and carries you like a mannequin being set up for display.

Your startled squeal catches the attention of every person in the room and they watch as you wrap your arms around your fiancé’s neck in panic.

As the man carries you and disappears behind the doors to your garden, the chatter resumes but now, soft smiles are gracing the lips of every attendee.

They have been granted the front row seats to watch your game of push and pull with the strongest sorcerer.  Some of them have been watching ever since before you learned to walk.

It brought them great joy to see the man finally taking an action to claim you as his woman.

You, on the other hand, have your heart beating wildly on your chest.

Have you pushed too far?

Has your act of refusing his offer to dance been too much of a blow to his pride?

When Gojō places you down, you also pull your arms back to your sides.  You do not want to meet his eyes.  No, not at all.

“Sit.”

You still instinctively look up at him though.  “Huh?”

He gestures to the bench behind you.  “I said, sit.”

Immediately, you pull at your dress to smoothen the fabric as you sit down.  You did not appreciate how the act made you even smaller compared to his full height.

Your fingers twiddle with each other to release some of the budding nervousness in your chest.

“I-I am terribly sorry if I upset you, Gojō-sama.”  You stammer.

There you are.

A smirk finds itself on Gojō's lips.  You haven’t changed one bit.  You were only brave when there were other people around but you are the same shy little girl that he knew the moment you were alone.

He kneels before you to look you in the eye.  “Upset me? Whatever do you mean, my love?”  His tone was dark and dangerous despite him smiling playfully at you. 

You wanted to cry.

And his smile widens when your eyes turn glassy just as your lips wobble.

He just watched your suffering, willing yourself to hold back the tears.  Just as you thought you'd break, he clicks his tongue and digs through the poof of your gown to take off your sandals.

And as he expected, blisters covered your dainty feet.

“How were you dancing so beautifully with such discomfort.”  He says with his voice grim.

You can only watch him as his hands work on healing your wounds.

At times like this, you feel the safest.  As if nothing in the world could harm you.

And without much thinking, your hands cup his cheek.  And Gojō looks at you with still a tiny frown by his eyebrows.

“Are you upset with me?”  You ask with your voice barely above a whisper.

“That depends.  Are you done with your ruse?”  He cocks an eyebrow and you nod shyly.  “Then we’re good.”

“Will you dance with me now?” 

When you smile at him so softly, how can he say no?

But to your surprise, the man grabs you by your waist, lifts you up until your now healed feet are stepping on his shoes.

You hastily tried to get off but he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Stay.”

It was a simple command but you find yourself surrendering all that you are to him.

Your hands find themselves resting atop his shoulders and with the echoes of the music spilling to the dim garden, Gojō Satoru makes you feel as if you too were honored throughout heaven and earth, simply because he had you in his arms and he was swaying you to the faintest of melodies.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[rdr2gifs]

''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

[calisources]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences has been taken from different media and soruces about life in the royal court, involving the introgue of succession, war, marriage, kings and queens and tournaments. Most of this are acceptable for all audience except one with some foul language. Chance names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.

A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.

And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?

That's a question rarely asked here at court.

Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just.

We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would make us believe .

Either you break the law, or the law breaks you.

There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.

Power does not pardon, power punishes.

Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!

He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was.

The cat who lived in the Palace had been awarded the head-dress of nobility and was called Lady Myobu.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.

It is important to refuse to be intimidated.

They all come innocent in court.

Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?

They used to say that, in a battle between the lion and the tiger, the winner was the monkey, who watched from a distance.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of.

 If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat. 

 A doe is easier to keep.

The woman did not care for empty compliments; to get such a woman, one needed to put forth effort.

I’m a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second . . .

Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.

She calls herself the Queen of Narnia thought she has no right to be queen at all.

Plenty of people have told me you are not my father.

It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly.”

Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power.

Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen. 

These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. 

A prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art.

You should never have been only a little girl, you should have always been a crown princess.

You knew you would be sending me away?

A born king is a very rare being.

The world will need to know that I’m the last royal left. Their queen.

There’s royalty in me, but stronger than that there is adventure.

My life is the Crown and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another.

Dignity is trained into royal children before they can toddle.

The first year of marriage is not always easy, especially within the Royal Family.

The real intelligence in the royal family comes through my parents .

The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.

The royal road to a man's heart is to talk to him about the things he treasures most.

The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

The winner will marry the prince.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

That is acceptable. A king is a martyr to their ideals.

f I rule the nation as king, I cannot ask to live as a person.

A wise king never seeks out war, but... he must always be ready for it.

All men need something greater than themselves to look up to and worship. They must be able to touch the divine here on earth

I am the First Imperial Princess of the Misurugi Empire! 

You can tell she's a princess, she doesn't need a crown.

You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met! In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain.

No one ever told her "no." 

 In no time at flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace.

These men are my bodyguards, their lives forfeit to the guarantee of my physical safety. Of their loyalty to me, there shall be no question nor doubt.

Some balls are held for charity And some for fancy dress, But when they're held for pleasure They're the balls that I like best.

Be careful of what women with gowns plan, specially in a ballroom. 

The art of husband seeking is something every woman has been trained since birth.

Many wives and consorts, of course.

Who is to rule when I am gone? You are a princess. I have no son.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Did I not mention there was another?

A king must always have an heir and a spare.

He was born to be a king... He rules men just by breathing. When he walks into a room, he commands it. People love him.

Two knights off to rescue a princess. Sounds like a great song.

As the king's brother, you should've been first in line!

 I was first in line. Until the little hairball was born.

That "hairball" is my son, and your future king.

My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold.

It cannot be easy being the youngest prince. To have others expect nothing from you, yet still shake their heads in disapproval.

 If my uncle attacks King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him.

You are in need of serious princess lessons.

 You're the new ruler of Mechanicsburg. You need to act like it.

Every princess needs a battle axe. Here. Use this one until we find you something more impressive.

You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings. I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

A tournament has been arranged in your name, so you must attend and make yourself presentable.

They hope to find me a husband here. They said I am already a woman bled.

[2knightt]

5 things dallas winston hated about you.

—even when you were on his last goddamn nerve, you were still everything to him. is he still everything to you? after all he’s put you through?

-> in no way is this me changing my style nor should this be taken seriously…i’m just bored. and sad. and bored. and i miss my boyfriend. posted on queue!! i’m probably either studying, working on asks + event, or sleeping. either one.

(I.your snarky remarks.)

“did nobody ever teach you how to properly play uno of all games?”

you asked, a chuckle in your voice as you held your one card in hand. dallas glared at you from across your table, holding 12 cards. this was the 5th game you two played. he was never one to accept defeat easily.

“this game is just fuckin’ stupid. n’ you’re a dirty lil’ cheater.” he grumbled, staring down at his all red cards, eyes shifting back to the green 3 that you had placed down. dallas wanted to say more not-so-nice words, but knowing you fully, you’d say something even worse back. he hated that about you. you always said that it was apart of your charm, he always disagreed.

“why would i ever need to cheat when you can’t seem to count?” you snapped back, brows furrowed. you referenced the fact that dallas tried to pick up only 4 when he had to pick up 6, thinking he was slick.

dallas just huffed, picking up another card from the pile before mumbling a small, ‘go.’ there was a tug at the corners of your mouth, causing you to grin a little too hard as you placed down the winning card. for the 5th time in a row. dallas threw his cards down, clicking his tongue in annoyance. he leaned back into the chair, his head turned away from you as his arms hung off the chair.

“stop bein’ a baby and help me clean this up.”

“no. it’s your house.”

“and you’re the one who’s bumming around in it. clean up with me before i let you walk those streets. again.”

(II.how important your looks were to you.)

you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, fingers running through your hair as you starred at yourself in the window of a convenience store.

“are you serious, y/n?” he asked, pockets in hand. he stopped walking when you did. he said it was so nobody hit on you. in reality, he liked it better when he had his eyes on you 24/7. he likes knowing you were safe. even for a second.

“yes, dallas. i am.” you replied with an eye roll. you grabbed your pink lip gloss, re-applying it for the 4th time today. sure, you were willing to admit it slowed you down—your focus on your looks. but were you gonna change? no! if someone doesn’t like it, who cares?

once you were done, you continued walking, leaving dallas to rush to catch up. he walked beside you after speed walking behind you for a few seconds. your lips shined under the hot tulsa sun, eyes glowing along with them. dally couldn’t help but wrap an arm around your waist.

he grew more and more aware of the men around. he held you closer, even when they paid no mind to neither you or him. he felt almost threatened for a moment.

“are you even listening?”

you chimed in, breaking his train of thought. dallas nodded, head empty. he didn’t hear a single thing you said. was he going to admit it? no. he didn’t want these other guys to know about how terrible of a boyfriend he was.

you just hummed, walking to your house in silence. any insults, compliments, comments, or cries would fall to deaf ears as of now.

(III.how you were blindly loyal.)

“i cannot believe you right now.”

“i jus’ said she was pretty. god forbid.”

he muttered as he entered your car, sitting in the passenger seat. dallas knew it’d be a terrible idea to try and make you jealous. boundaries, you’d shout. boundaries!

“i’ve told you how many times on how uncomfortable that makes me.”

“m’sorry, doll. i…i know. it was the alcohol.”

dallas lied right through his teeth. in all honesty—he’d been hoping it’d make you want to show him off. he was stupid for ever thinking you’d so something like that.

your silence scared him. you usually would’ve spat something back at him without a single thought. a sigh left your lips as you started the car, finally speaking up.

“i know.”

you muttered quietly. goddamn, maybe loyalty was gonna be the death of you. he didn’t mind much, though. at least you knew where home was. with him…right? right, y/n? he wanted to ask over and over again. dallas wanted the reassurance. he needed the support.

for what? he didn’t know. he just wanted to make sure you still felt the same way he does.

(IV.the way you fought.)

“she got you good, y/n.”

“oh, shut up, dal.”

you muttered, washing your bloodied and bruised hands under the faucet. you stood there, spacing out, letting the water run off your hands. dallas tapped you on your shoulder, snapping you out of it.

he handed you a clean shirt, a couple of bandaids in the other. you ushered him out of your bathroom, closing the door to put the clean shirt on. ‘she got you good.’ what does that even mean? was there seriously no, ‘are you okay?’ you wondered to yourself as you opened the door.

dallas sat you down on the toilet, brushing the fresh blood that slowly streamed down your cheeks with his thumb as he placed bandaids all over your face. he kissed every single one after doing so.

he wanted to make sure you still knew he likes you. that dallas winston liked you a whole lot.

“you’ll be alright, doll.” he comforted, patting your head. he thought back to your several other fights. you fought strategically and with honour. something he’d never do. but, recently, you’d been fighting just for the fun of it.

when you fought before—he felt a little angry. he didn’t like seeing you fight, but he didn’t like knowing you were good at it. knowing you were at the same level as he was at something he took pride in hurt him. dallas was frustrated at you and himself.

maybe his bad habits were rubbing off on you. a way to remember him, as dallas thought about it. he said he’d talk to you later about it. he never did.

(V.how quickly you were able to move on. faster than he ever could.)

you realized you needed better. dallas didn’t treat you like he used to. why? you didn’t know. you tried to be the best girlfriend he’d ever have, so why did he have to ruin it? was it your fault?

you kept on asking yourself questions like this when the reality of it all sunk in. that same day, you left dallas winston.

he felt his world crumble before him. this whole, self-sabotaging thing that pony warned him about was catching up to him. dallas felt hatred for you. well, at least he wanted to. he wanted to feel angry. hatred for you.

he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. even when he watched you move onto another guy. from afar, he’d see you giggle and flirt with him. like how you used to do with him.

even when you’re with someone else, you’re still everything ti dallas. would you ever forgive him if he said sorry? would sorry even fix the way he treated you?

[menlove]

now i'm curious .. why do you think john was gay?

disclaimer: this is not bi erasure & if anyone tries to start discourse w me about that i do not careeeee sorry. i care deeply abt bi erasure but he never labeled his own sexuality & as a figure of the past it's more than fair to speculate that when he talked abt his attraction to women it was from the pov of a gay man dealing w comphet. if he were alive today and saying he was bisexual i'd leave it alone but he's not so i'm not. sexuality can absolutely be fluid! and he very well may have been bisexual! this is just my personal theory & interpretation of things he's said through the lens of viewing him as a gay man. MOVING ON.

i need you to imagine all of this to the benny hill theme. let's go

with the beatles by alistair taylor pg. 98 (at least in the pdf copy i have- there's no actual page numbers so it might not match up exactly if you have the print copy)

and from the same book like a paragraph down- this one is not AS crazy bc there's a million explanations but also not being able to get it up for the one woman you've fantasized about forever...... oh brother

in a description of an auctioned off audio tape:

this :|

this from JOOOOAN BAEZ. JOAN BAEZ.

(source)

"It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists."

this infamous quote (source from the wonderful @amoralto who is a great resource for beatles archiving)

"He was completely open and uninhibited with her, as she learned to be with him, owning up to his deepest sexual fantasies—like one of making love to a woman in her eighties, or even older, whose veined and wrinkled hands would be covered in diamonds. Over time, she became accustomed to his particular style of backhanded compliment. 'Do you know why I like you?' he remarked on one occasion. 'It’s because you look like a bloke in drag. You’re like a mate.' Yoko laughingly replied that she thought he must be 'a closet fag.'"

john lennon: the life by philip norman (take him w a grain of salt. also the doc i have for this one is html so i truly would have 0 clue on what page number this would be) BUT this is also corroborated by a yoko quote herself in a 1981 new york magazine interview

no, no, no by yoko ono which. what do i even need to say.

"I remember it, vaguely. I was out of me mind with drink – when you get down to the point where you drink all the empty glasses, that drunk. And he was saying, 'Well, come on, John, tell us,' something like that, 'Tell me about you and Brian, we all know,' like that. And obviously, I must have been un– uh, f– frightened of the fag in me to get so angry at that. You know, when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man, and all that. And for the first time I thought, 'I could kill this guy.' I just saw it, like on a screen, that if I hit him once more, I – that’s gonna be it."

this other infamous quote uploaded in an audio by @amoralto (source)

"John believed in my work as an artist wasn’t accepted in part because I am a woman. He got angry when people said about me, 'She’s not a woman, she’s a female impersonator.' John said to me, 'If I had been gay and gotten together with a guy who was talented like you, after ten years that guy would have become famous as an artist in his own right. Maybe we should come out and say, 'Actually, Yoko is a guy.' Maybe that will do it!' That made him laugh a lot. John learned about women’s oppression from me, but I learned a lot about men’s vulnerability from him. He expressed his vulnerability, unlike a lot of other men. I learned that it’s not just men oppressing women. Men also suffer, they feel fear and guilt. For example, I thought the fact that men buy prostitutes was terrible. It filled me with indignation. But John explained it differently. 'It’s humiliating for a guy to buy a whore,' he told me. 'It’s proof that he’s rejected, he’s just so desperate.' I had never thought of that: for me who go to prostitutes, sex is connected to being rejected and humiliated. I always hated people who committed sex crimes, but through John I tuned in to their pain. John told me that it was unfortunate for the poor guy whose sexual preference was a crime and something to be feared. John’s perspective was, 'I’m lucky I’m normal.'"

yoko interview with jon wiener in come together: john lennon in his time. just..... whatever the hell is going on here.

interview w lisa robinson in hit parader "a conversation with john lennon" 1975

"With his four months’ greater experience, Sheridan was an ideal guide to the Reeperbahn’s more exotic diversions, like the Schwülen laden. Stu Sutcliffe later wrote home in amazement that the transvestites were 'all harmless and very young' and it was actually possible to speak to one 'without shuddering.' Though raised amid the same homophobia as his companions, John seemed totally unshocked by St. Pauli’s abundant drag scene; indeed, he often seemed actively to seek it out. 'There was one particular club he used to like,' Tony Sheridan remembers, 'full of these big guys with hairy hands, deep voices—and breasts. But they used to make an effort to talk English. There was something about the place that seemed to make John feel at home.'"

another from john lennon: the life so take it w a grain of salt

so many excerpts from skywriting by word of mouth

and more!

and thats all i'm hunting down for now but he also like Continuously went on and on and and on and ON about how his relationship w yoko worked bc she was so much like a man/mate/what have you

[fantasyescapes17]

Candle (Part 3, Final)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Genre: Yoon Jeonghan x female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Wonwoo's sister so your last name is Jeon, but the reader has no other specific characteristics, physical or otherwise.

Word Count: 4.2k+

Part 1 Part 2

Series Masterlist [I would recommend reading the first story in this series, Patience, before this one but it's not strictly necessary.]

You returned Ella's little book when you saw your friend next at the Hasting's ball. Fortunately, she was far too occupied by her new and exciting courtship with Mr. Xu to notice that you had ripped out an entire page. 

"Found what you need?" Ella teased you. 

"I found that I didn't need it," you replied lightly. 

She did not push you for a more elaborate response, but seemed surprised when you were approached by none other than Mr. Yoon Jeonghan himself, dressed in the most dapper black dress coat and seeking to escort you to the dance that you had promised him. 

"You are an excellent dancer, Mr. Yoon," you complimented him when he took your hand gently in his. 

"I can hardly accept that compliment. You have had much more practice than I; your movements are very graceful," Jeonghan replied kindly. He did not give himself enough credit. His dark eyes never broke eye contact with you for a moment, and his step never faltered.

"I hope you are not trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that you may swipe something else from my person. What shall it be this time? My earrings?" you teased. 

Jeonghan chuckled. "I assure you I am not quite so nimble, nor so talented a pickpocket."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "But the pearls-"

"-had already fallen off your neck and onto the floor. I noticed them and picked them up when I pulled out your chair," Jeonghan admitted. "I hope you are not terribly disappointed that I did not actually swipe them from you."

"So you were not a thief but the hero who found my necklace?" you asked with a dramatic sigh. "I was wondering why the clasp was broken. It is not nearly as exciting, but I suppose it will have to do."

"If it pleases you, there is something I might try to steal from you yet," Jeonghan suggested. 

Your eyes brightened. 

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Well if I told you, you would guard it too well," he protested. "It is the golden rule of any pickpocket. The victim must be caught unawares."

You narrowed your eyes. "That will prove a difficult challenge, then, Mr. Yoon. I am already far too aware of you."

Jeonghan smiled. His hand came up to meet your gloved one. 

"I am up for the challenge, Miss Jeon."

"And you think it is a good idea to challenge the woman who is currently holding her tongue with your secrets? I would be careful, Mr. Yoon. If you become too light-fingered, then I may become loose-lipped," you warned teasingly. 

"I can think of ways to keep your lips occupied, so that they have no leisure to be spilling secrets."

You gasped at Jeonghan's audacity and your cheeks instantly felt hot at the suggestion. You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish for a moment until the dance came to an end, and Jeonghan gave you a smirk and a bow. 

"Have a nice evening, Miss Jeon," he said lightly. "I will see you when it is time for me to pay my next instalment."

—-------------------------------

It was difficult not to be swept up in the whirlwind of emotions that Yoon Jeonghan brought with him over the next few weeks. It was a never-ending game. Jeonghan was the perfect gentleman on the surface. He helped you down from your horse after a pleasant ride at the park, opened doors and pulled out chairs for you- but every now and then, when nobody else was listening, he would let something suggestive slip in that low, mischievous tone of his that made your face heat up, and your heart pound. 

You were rapidly becoming quite enamoured with the man, and inevitably, others  began to take notice. 

"Oh, look," Ella commented one afternoon, during a pleasant walk that you were both sharing in the park. "It's your new admirer."

You tried to mask your enthusiasm. You were not formally courting Mr. Yoon (yet), and despite your ongoing flirtations, he had not confessed any serious intentions towards you. 

"He is not my admirer-"

Ella scoffed. "Well he certainly never looks at any woman but you. Have you not noticed? Whenever you are in the room his eyes are always on you." 

You bit your lip. "Do you really think so?"

"You should be careful, my friend. You know what they say about Mr. Yoon, he is quite the villain-"

"Yes, I know," you cut her off sharply. You disliked hearing Jeonghan spoken about that way. "I have not found anything villainous about his manners so far. He has been a perfect gentleman in his behaviour towards me."

Ella looked at you with surprise. "Miss Jeon, do you perhaps really have feelings for-"

She was interrupted by the approach of Mr. Yoon Jeonghan. To your surprise, Jeonghan was accompanied by your brother. Although the two men were indeed known to be friends and a stroll through the park was not unusual or remarkable, you knew better. 

Wonwoo did not trouble himself to take afternoon strolls in the park for no good reason. 

"What a lovely surprise Miss Jeon, Miss Williams," Mr. Yoon greeted you both pleasantly. "I see you ladies noticed that the weather was pleasant enough for a stroll. May we join you?"

Ella giggled. "Of course, we would never refuse the company of two gentlemen."

There was a subtle but evidently intentional manoeuvring that took place immediately upon Ella's invitation. The path was not wide enough for four people to walk side-by-side. Your brother squeezed into the gap beside Miss Williams, and left you to fall a little behind them with Jeonghan by your side. 

"Miss Williams," your brother could be heard saying in front of you. "Could I persuade you to walk alongside the trees with me? I am afraid my eyes are rather sensitive to the sunlight and I would appreciate the shade."

Ella seemed surprised. "Oh- yes, of course, Mr. Jeon…"

They drifted a little further away and you felt your heartbeat quicken as you looked up at the handsome man that stood beside you. Jeonghan's hair gently ruffled in the afternoon breeze but his eyes stayed fixed firmly on you.

"Well," you said to him with a smile. "If you have persuaded Wonwoo to step into the park on a pleasant spring afternoon, then you must have something very important to say to me indeed," you teased. 

Jeonghan chuckled. "Was it so evident?"

"You could have written to me, if you wished to convey something in confidence."

"I did not know that you wished for me to write to you," Jeonghan admitted lightly. "But all the same, I believe some things are best discussed in person. Including the question of whether you really wish for us to initiate a… written correspondence."

You flushed. He made it sound so intimate.  Yoon Jeonghan left no room for doubt that it was only the most romantic of correspondences that he referred to. 

"Then do tell me what has brought you- and my brother- here this afternoon," you questioned. 

"It has not escaped my attention that over the last few weeks, you and I have been engaging in increasingly flirtatious conversations," Jeonghan began. He had a small smile on his face. "I am sure you know this- but you are the most beautiful, intelligent and striking woman of my acquaintance."

Your embarrassment was evident. It was a surprisingly straightforward compliment coming from Jeonghan. You could not think of any way to play it off in a teasing or light-hearted manner. 

"T-thank you," you mumbled. "I am quite flattered that you hold me in such high regard."

"I hold you in excessively high regard," Jeonghan reassured you. "Which is why I do not wish for there to be any confusion or misunderstanding. My intentions- my advances towards you, however playful, have always been backed by honourable intentions."

"And what are these honourable intentions?" you asked quietly. 

"I would very much like to begin a formal courtship with you, Miss Jeon. That would be the natural progression of our relationship. Unless I am sorely mistaken- you have perhaps been waiting for me to make such a request."

You could not lie. 

You nodded. 

Jeonghan sighed. "Perhaps I have been selfish. I indulged my affections and attraction towards you too openly. But the truth is, Miss Jeon, my current familial situation is… complicated. I fear that any woman I publicly court would become the subject of much negative attention and suffer public scorn."

You looked at him with surprise. "I do not understand. Is this regarding your sisters? Or your step-mother?"

"My step-mother has some very specific anxieties," Jeonghan admitted. "She is not an unkind woman but she is worried about her future, and my father failed to provide for her in his will. I have promised that I will provide for her for as long as she lives but she doesn't trust me."

You bit your lip. "I see."

"She has already painted me as a villain before the ton- a fact you are well aware of. Any woman I court or marry will suffer the same fate. She will accuse you of stealing from her and her daughters and tarnish your reputation. I do not want you to face her scorn. You are well-loved by the ton- and rightly so."

You took a deep breath and turned to look at Jeonghan. There was honesty in his eyes and worry; worry for you, you realised. He was worried about the impact his complicated family would have on your happiness and reputation. 

"Mr. Yoon," you said slowly. "I will not pretend that my reputation means nothing to me. But there are things that I am prepared to sacrifice it for."

"You should not have to make such a sacrifice."

"I would rather not," you admitted. "But I must ask. Is there no way to resolve your step-mother's worries?"

"I have initiated proceedings to transfer property to her name," Jeonghan explained. "And to set up a trust for her. But there are legal complications and it is a lengthy process. Once my sister is finally married, my stepmother may feel more comfortable as she will be able to rely on her son-in-law for financial security. I worry that she may always perceive my efforts as underhanded."

"I-I see."

Jeonghan took a deep breath and took your hand gently in his. He glanced around the park furtively to make sure none of the other occupants were looking at you- and then quickly lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

You were speechless. "I-I…"

"I do not know what to do, Miss Jeon. I agreed to become a villain to help my sister but I never imagined that I might fall in love, or that my beloved would have to share in my sacrifices. I cannot ask you to bear this burden for me. It may be years until it is fully resolved."

Your hand felt warm. 

"Are you asking me to wait for you, Mr. Yoon?" you whispered. 

"I do not presume to ask anything of you," Jeonghan told you gently. "I am yours. I shall do whatever you ask of me-without objection."

Your heart leapt. It was a strange feeling- perhaps you should have hoped for a more traditional confession, something along the lines of I will die unless you marry me, my love! but somehow this was even more romantic. 

Mr. Yoon Jeonghan was not begging or pleading or persuading you. 

No, he had simply placed his cards on the table and given you the power to make his next move. 

It struck you in a sudden moment how much you loved this man. This handsome, selfless caring man with a mischievous streak who looked at you with his angelic face and intense eyes and lit a fire in your heart. He had given you more respect in this moment than most gentlemen would ever willingly offer a lady in their lifetime. 

"Then ask me to court you," you whispered. "I believe we have both proven that we can be trusted to keep a secret."

Jeonghan smiled softly. "Is that what you wish? A secret courtship?"

"It would be the most thrilling thing we have done so far- and you stole my pearls the first time we spoke, so the standard was not particularly low to begin with."

Jeonghan laughed. 

"Then it is done. You may prepare yourself to be passionately wooed, Miss Jeon- in secret."

—--------------------------------------------

Wonwoo was not pleased with the turn of events. 

"Yes, I agreed to accompany him to the park so that he might speak to you about his intentions," your brother admitted. "But I did not expect that I would become a courier boy to deliver love letters back and forth while you both played at a clandestine dalliance."

You raised your eyebrows at your brother. "What did you expect?"

"That Jeonghan would either propose to you or end your flirtation."

"He will propose to me. Once his sister is married, and he has cleared his name in society," you replied simply. 

"If you wish to court each other then you should do it with our parents permission," Wonwoo pressed, as though it was obvious. "Mother may be disappointed that you managed to choose the only man in the ton with a reputation for stealing dowries but surely she could be made to see reason eventually."

You sighed. "Wonwoo."

"What?"

"Your own reputation in society is hardly spotless enough. I overheard Viscount Hong's younger sister talking about you during a ladies' tea the other day. She used some select words to describe you, and none of them were pleasant. What did you do to offend her?"

Wonwoo flushed. "Do not speak to me of her. She is quite mad."

You laughed. "Miss Hong? But she is said to be a sweet little creature."

"You are changing the subject," Wonwoo accused. "I will deliver your love letters for now but when the time comes, I expect you will repay my debt."

"I would be delighted to deliver any love letters you wish to send."

Wonwoo sighed and turned back to his book while you giggled. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

It became necessary, in due course, to reveal your secret courtship to Ella Williams once you detected her increasing suspicion. She was surprisingly accepting of the news- and although you did not reveal the exact nature of Jeonghan’s familial secrets, you reassured her that Jeonghan was simply quite misunderstood. 

“I cannot believe it,” Ella gushed, happy for you. “Has he declared his love for you yet?” 

You hesitated. “Not in those exact words, no, but he has made his affections quite clear.” 

“How shocking! To think that of all the eligible men in my book, you should have fallen in love with Mr Yoon Jeonghan! I had set my heart on Viscount Hong for you. But it is just as well; it appears that Joshua has made a proposal to a young lady and they are now engaged to be married next week.”

You raised an eyebrow with interest. 

“Oh? Who is the fortunate young lady?” 

“One of the elder Lee girls. It is so strange; she is not particularly beautiful, nor does she have a dowry worth boasting of. There are so many siblings in the Lee family, you know, the estate is stretched quite thin among them. But I suppose love can be unpredictable. Apparently Joshua has been smitten with Miss Lee for some time now,” Ella mused.  

You giggled. “And what news of your dear Mr. Xu?” 

“Oh!” Ella cried. “Do not speak to me of him, I am quite heartbroken. He resumes his travels in Asia next week, and he has promised to write to me regularly but you know how long it takes for letters to be delivered from overseas. I fear I shall not see him until the next season.” 

Your smile faltered as the thought of the season nearing its end struck you.

“Yes… once the season ends Mr. Yoon shall return to his estate with his family for the winter.” 

Ella smiled at you sympathetically. “Are you worried about him?” 

“We see each other once or twice a week while we are both in London. That will not be possible once he returns to the countryside. I am sure he might try to meet me, but I am afraid that we shall to satisfy ourselves with letters in the meantime. I have always been so terrible at writing letters! I shall suffer the consequences now.” 

"I am sure your courtship will last. Mr. Yoon does not seem like the kind of gentleman to give up what is important to him," Ella reassured you. 

"I certainly hope not."

—-------------------------------------------------------

The evening before Jeonghan was set to leave for the countryside for the rest of the year, you had a brief moment alone with him in the gardens behind the assembly rooms. This secret rendez-vous was enabled, to your surprise, by Viscount Hong. He assured you and Jeonghan that he and Miss Lee (now newly Viscountess Hong) had used the tiny cove behind a clump of trees in the garden to have private conversations many times before. 

You would have expected such scandalous behaviour from Kim Mingyu, perhaps, but certainly not from Viscount Hong. 

In any case, you were not inclined to prod or complain. 

"Do you promise to write to me every week?" you asked Jeonghan. He was smiling down at you, and his hands reached out to clasp yours tightly. 

"I promise I will write," he reassured you. 

"I will be extremely upset if you do not. If I do not receive a letter from you for more than a week, then I shall assume that you have fallen in love with someone else and mean to end our courtship," you insisted with a pout.

"That would be a fair assumption."

"Mr. Yoon!" 

He laughed and boldly lifted his hand to stroke his thumb across your cheek. Your face became hot under his touch. It was an innocent but bold gesture and you struggled not to look too affected. 

“Perhaps,” Jeonghan suggested boldly. “It would be easier for me to remember to write to you every week if you gave me a token of your affection- something to remember you by?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I hope you are not trying to swipe more of my jewellery.” 

“Something more… intimate.” 

 “Such as?” 

Jeonghan leaned closer and brought his lips near your ear. You could feel his warm breath on the side of your face and all your senses were suddenly flooded and overwhelmed with the physical proximity of this handsome and charming man. 

“Let me have a lock of your hair, my love.” 

You stared up at Jeonghan as his hand gently lifted a lock of your hair and he twirled his index finger around it. He never failed to surprise you; although you should have expected, knowing his mischievous nature, that it was only a matter of time until he suggested something so romantic and scandalous.

He lifted your hair to his lips and kissed it softly. 

“Mr. Yoon,” you choked out, flustered. 

“You had better start calling me Jeonghan, love. I hardly think that formalities will be required between us once I have placed this lock of your hair in my locket and tasted your sweet lips,” he replied. 

Before you could even think to object, Jeonghan took both. 

First, he leaned forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet and bold; he was gentle yet there was no hesitation in his movements. In response, you pressed yourself closer to him and returned the kiss. You would not see him for many months so this was hardly the time to act coy. You let your hands slide up into his tousled hair and melted into his passionate embrace. 

After a prolonged embrace and many eager kisses, Jeonghan pulled back. You were both slightly out of breath. Your heart was racing and you found yourself instinctively leaning into him again, begging him for another kiss. But Jeonghan had other plans. He pulled out a small pocket-knife and with a single fluid movement, sliced off a tiny lock of your hair. 

You stared at him as he opened a small locket and placed the lock inside of it. 

“I will return this to you,” he whispered in your ear softly. “When I have a wedding ring to give you in return.” 

You bit your lip and nodded. 

“Then I will pray you return it soon.”

“I will, my love.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

The winter was a difficult one. Jeonghan wrote to you regularly and even came to visit you once under the guise of visiting your brother. Yet it was incredibly difficult to be apart from him. You had never had much patience for sitting and writing letters, preferring the intimacy of conversation, and the secrecy of your courtship meant that you could not confide in anyone about how much you missed your lover. 

(While your brother Wonwoo would begrudgingly carry your correspondence and pass messages to Jeonghan from you, he did not make for the best confidante.) 

You spent every waking moment waiting for the upcoming season, and for Jeonghan’s return to London. 

The moment finally arrived; you had been waiting all morning at the window to the upstairs library when you spotted him riding down the cobblestone street on his dark horse. Your heart leapt when Jeonghan dismounted in front of the entrance. You stood, dropping the knitting that you had been pretending to be doing. 

Your father, sitting across the room at his desk, raised a questioning eyebrow at you. 

“I-I left some of my sewing thread downstairs,” you explained vaguely before rushing out of the library and running down the stairs. You arrived just in time to see Jeonghan enter the lobby in his riding coat. 

The butler bowed to him and conveyed his apologies. 

“My regrets, Mr. Yoon,” the butler was saying to him politely. “But Mr, Jeon Wonwoo is not at home at present. Perhaps you may wish to return later this evening?” 

Jeonghan looked up at you and his eyes widened when they met yours. Your heart leapt in delight at the sight of him and you could not bear to watch the butler send him away simply because your brother was not home. It had been months since you had spoken to him. 

“Oh- I am sure Wonwoo will be back very soon,” you interrupted hurriedly. “Mr. Yoon can perhaps wait in the drawing room until my brother returns-” 

"There is no need for that."

You whirled around at the sound of your father's voice. In your eagerness to see Jeonghan, you had not even realised that your father had followed you out of the library and down the stairs. He had a rather serious expression on his face. 

You swallowed. "Father…"

"Mr. Yoon can come join me in the library. And you, my dear daughter, will be kind enough to wait downstairs."

You turned to Jeonghan who looked slightly alarmed, but nodded. You watched in silent horror as Jeonghan took off his hat and followed your father up the stairs. 

Oh no. 

This was not normal. Your father- much like your brother- rarely took an interest in people or company unless prompted to do so.  There was no doubt in your mind that if your father wished to speak to Jeonghan alone, then your secret courtship had been discovered. 

You turned to the butler desperately. "You must send word to my brother to come at once!" 

The butler was startled. "Miss Jeon, are you-"

"Tell him to come immediately and send a servant upstairs to listen in on my father and Mr. Yoon's conversation in the library, I beg you!"

You paced the drawing room nervously for at least twenty minutes. There was no sign of Wonwoo, the servant that had gone upstairs to the library had never returned, and you had no option but to pace nervously up and down the room imagining all the worst possible situations. Would your father take down his hunting rifle and shoot Jeonghan? Would he challenge him to a duel? Perhaps it was nothing- perhaps your father had no idea of your courtship and simply wished to speak to Jeonghan about matters of business-

The large doors to the drawing room opened and Jeonghan entered alone. 

Your eyes widened. 

“What happened?” 

Jeonghan looked slightly tense. He forced a smile when he saw you, and took both of your hands in his before guiding you to sit down in one of the armchair. He kneeled in front of your chair; entwined hands placed in your lap. 

“Does he know?” you whispered. 

“He… had his suspicions,” Jeonghan replied slowly. “It appears that when a woman who can rarely be persuaded to sit still long enough to pen down a quick note suddenly begins to spend hours locked in her room writing letters that she insists on delivering to the post office herself, other members of the family take notice.” 

You flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“I did not think it was right to lie to him. I told him the truth,” Jeonghan told you quietly. 

“What did he say?” 

“What any good father would have said upon making such a discovery.” 

You frowned. “Now is not the time for games, Mr. Yoon Jeonghan-” 

Jeonghan brought your entwined hands up to his lips and he kissed your knuckles softly before looking up at you with a playful smile. His dark eyes twinkled in the bright morning light that streamed through the curtains. 

“Miss Jeon… would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you want to see the fallout of this proposal from Jeonghan's sister's perspective, then go read 'Patience' lmao.

Thank you so much again for all your support! I'm shocked by how many notes my chapter are receiving considering that I barely started my blog a month ago and thank you SO MUCH to everyone that reads, likes, reblogs or leaves a comment. I can be a little flaky but this is one series I really hope to finish and it's really encouraging that people seem to enjoy it too.

I might put up a poll on my blog to decide which member I write next- feel free to check it out later!

And as always, feel free to leave any feedback or thoughts. I'm not sensitive lol.

[sunny374940]

Let me show you how beautiful you are

Hello again, long time no smut. Emmrich is a bit insecure about his body and Rook shows him just how beautiful he finds him. Get loved, old man.

Cw: anal sex

Here on ao3

And here is the rest of my stories.

Rook woke up, blinking muzzily in the darkness of their bedroom. The greyish light of pre-dawn was barely penetrating the curtains, suggesting that it was too damn early to be awake.

He stretched an arm to Emmrich's side of the bed but he was, like most mornings, already up and about, probably getting breakfast ready. As Rook was rolling over to get more comfortable, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head towards it, curious.

Emmrich wasn't getting breakfast. In fact, he was standing on the rug next to their bed, his back to Rook, and he was wearing nothing at all.

Well, not a bad sight to wake up to.

And then Emmrich was stretching himself up, raising his arms to the ceiling and the view of the muscles of his back moving under the skin had Rook transfixed. He looked on as Emmrich bent all the way down, touching the floor with his palms and presenting Rook with a rather nice view of his ass.

So he really did exercise in the mornings. Rook still didn't understand why anyone would choose to do that willingly, but decided not to complain, since he was enjoying himself quite a lot.

But he wanted more than just to look at Emmrich, so he sat up and started making his way to the edge of the bed.

“Morning, handsome,” he said as he reached Emmrich, who was now absorbed in stretching his wrists. Emmrich startled at the sound of his voice, turning around.

“Darling, did I wake you?” He sounded so apologetic that Rook almost felt sorry for him.

“Nope, I didn't even notice you at first when I woke up. But I'm glad I got to enjoy the show.”

Emmrich sputtered a bit at that and a blush began creeping upon his cheeks. Ha. He could be the one blushing for a change. Rook got out of bed, standing on his toes to kiss him.

“You're beautiful, you know?” he whispered between kisses. And Emmrich was blushing even more, he noted with a certain degree of satisfaction.

“This body has passed its prime some time ago, my dear, but thank you for the sentiment,” Emmrich said quietly, and he was looking down now, wouldn't meet Rook's eyes and was he… ashamed of himself?

What the fuck?

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Emmrich should have accepted the compliment, then said something terribly suave to make him blush in turn and then he should have kissed him again, maybe even done more than just kiss him. He wasn't supposed to go all quiet and sad, and Rook had to do something about that. He grasped Emmrich's chin gently with his fingers, making him face him again.

“Hey, I like the way you look. I think I've told you many times already, no?”

“Compared to you, I leave much to be desired, where matters of physicality are concerned,” came the cheerless reply and his were still downcast and Rook wouldn't stand for it. If Emmrich wouldn't believe his words, he would have to believe his actions. Rook caught Emmrich by the hand and dragged him down onto the bed.

“Lie back for me?” he asked and Emmrich obliged with the barest raise of an eyebrow. Rook sat himself on Emmrich's thighs and ran his hands over the skin of his stomach, relishing at the softness he found there. There wasn't a thing he didn't love about him and Emmrich would know that by the time he was done with him.

“You, Emmrich Volkarin, are a beautiful man, and I am going to show you.”

And Emmrich didn't seem to have anything to say for once. The blush was spreading down to his chest and Rook couldn't stop himself from leaning down to kiss him on the flushed skin. He licked at a nipple as he went, earning himself a breathy moan. Rook raised his head to look him in the face and found Emmrich staring at him, enraptured, the lovely hazel of his eyes a thin ring around dilated pupils. He could start there, then.

“I love the color of your eyes, you know? They remind me of summers in the forest where I grew up, the trees glowing in the sunlight. And your crows feet are so adorable, I want to kiss you right there every time you smile.”

And Emmrich did give him a small smile at that and allowed himself to be kissed. They were getting somewhere at last, but still there was a shade of doubt on his face.

Emmrich reached out to link their hands, as if he needed the reassurance, and Rook took the opportunity to raise Emmrich's hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. He didn't let go after he was done, instead using his free hand to stroke at Emmrich's fingers, examining them as if he hadn't already committed every line of them to memory.

“Your hands are so strong but you have such delicate fingers it always surprises me. I love how elegant they are when you weave magic… and how they can take me apart.”

He could hear Emmrich’s breath hitch a little and there was a hunger in his eyes, making Rook want to do all manner of delicious things to him.

His cheeks hadn't lost any of the adorable blush and his lips were parted, just begging Rook to kiss him some more. But that would have to wait for a bit longer, as Rook was on a mission now. Emmrich’s free hand came to hold onto Rook's thigh, fingers digging into his skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell him just how much he desired him.

Rook's felt his cock grow hard at the sight and Emmrich seemed to be very interested in this development, eyeing him hungrily.

“See what you do to me? Just seeing you like this makes me want to take you,” Rook said, letting his voice lower into a rumble. “Can I?”

“Yes, please,” Emmrich replied, breathless, cock hardening at Rook’s words.

Rook got off of Emmrich's legs, and reached for the vial of oil that stood on the bedside table and set about getting Emmrich ready for him.

He nudged Emmrich's legs apart and stroked oiled fingers against his asshole, applying just the slightest pressure. The way Emmrich moaned at the touch had Rook grinning and he wasted no time, pushing a finger inside, then a second, opening him up, and the sounds Emmrich made were amazing, little breathy moans and sighs of pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, love?” Rook asked, though there was very little doubt about Emmrich's readiness, as he had taken to fucking himself on Rook's fingers, moaning constantly.

“Y-yes darling, very much so.”Rook entered him then, slow and careful, relishing in the groan that Emmrich made when he started fucking him. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed and Rook would be repeating himsef, but he just had to say it.

“You're so beautiful, love.”

And Emmrich whimpered at the praise, a delightful sound that made Rook want more. He hooked Emmrich's legs over his shoulders, grabbing his ass with his hands, giving it a squeeze for good measure.

“You've got an amazing ass. It's just right for me to hold onto when I kiss you. Or fuck you just. Like. This.”

He punctuated every word with a snap of his hips and Emmrich was lost in his arousal, holding onto Rook's forearms as he was thrusting into him.

Rook took pity on him then, taking his cock in hand, stroking it in the way he knew he liked and he could see that Emmrich was getting close to the edge. Although Rook wasn't far behind, as it was taking all his willpower to not cum right away at the way Emmrich was falling apart under him. But he wanted to see him cum first, see the blissful expression on his face, and he wanted it now.

“I love the way you look when you cum. Can you do that for me?”

And Emmrich was nodding, words seemingly lost to him.

“Let me see you, love.”

Those words were all it took and Emmrich's hips seized as he came all over Rook's hand. His mouth opened in a silent cry, his eyes went wide at the force of it and he looked so beautiful that Rook couldn't hold on anymore and followed with his own orgasm, hips stuttering against Emmrich's ass. He slumped over Emmrich, breathing heavily.

“Do you believe me now?” Rook asked, searching Emmrich's face, hoping that there would be none of the self-doubt from earlier.

“I… am beginning to see the truth of your words. Thank you, darling.”

There was only quiet contentment in his eyes, but it wouldn't hurt to ram the point home some more.

“You are the kindest, smartest, most amazing person I have ever met. And you are also very beautiful,” Rook said, leaning down to kiss him.

“You, my dear, are a wonder and I am honored that you think so highly of me,” Emmrich said after their lips parted. “When we met I had no idea that I would gain such a caring lover, yet here you are, giving me such love I never even thought possible.”

“Wow. Um. Thanks.” And now Rook was blushing. All was right in the world again.

[vampkittyxoxo]

Hello there!!!!

I am a big fan of your work and I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write romantic relationship hcs for draco? Any pronouns are welcomed and appreciated!

Of course, I do hope not to pressure you! Please do take your time! And of course, if you do not wish to do this request, that is perfectly alright!!! 😁

-🌮

(btw sorry if my request is incoherent😓)

Thank you all for your requests!! I’ve gotten many people asking for Draco!

And may I say thank you for all the compliments!! You are all so sweet!!

I wasn’t sure if the unlabeled requests wanted romantic or just general hcs so I wrote both.

This is also my third time writing this because tumblr keeps refreshing the app if I even change the app for a second, so sorry if this feels rushed!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Draco romantic/general headcanons

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

~ Obviously, his favorite genre is metal. That doesn’t mean he likes all metal though— he can’t stand sludge metal or glam metal. However, he loves power metal and alternative metal!

~ I’d assume he’s around 23-24 in age, given that he had to have had time to build up his audience and find his sound.

~ Draco would be a bit on the tall side, maybe around 6’3-6’5 (roughly 190-196 cm). He has a nice build that comes naturally from a fast metabolism.

~ Admittedly… He really wants to start drawing. However, Draco thinks he’s too old to start now, so he opts for doodling dragons and wyverns in his free time.

~ Draco has quite a special interest in dragons… and of course, the obligatory hyperfixation on Wings of Fire in middle school. I mean, it was bad. He was telling all his friends about it, made every class project somehow correlate to Wings of Fire, and even wrote... fanfiction.... granted it was terrible considering he was 12. (I am not speaking from past experience with warrior cats.... no....)

~ He has a pretty decently sized vocabulary. This is mostly from reading lots of poetry and literature to help him with lyrics, but he is also smarter than he looks.

~ Draco has always been bad at making friends despite being popular now. He doesn't know how to talk to people for the first time and isn't sure what's all socially acceptable and what isn't. In middle school, he had a small group of four people, himself included, but he was always the odd one out. Then, in high school, he went through three different friend groups of varying sizes. It was very hard for him to maintain friendships, meaning lots of lunch periods were spent alone.

~ He was a theatre kid. I stand by this. Before he got actually good at singing, he practiced by getting supporting roles in school plays during high school.

Romantic Headcanons

~ Yes, he's popular. No, he's never had a real partner. You're what he considers his first.

~ Draco is very, very nervous at the start. The first time he saw you, even if you were dressed lazily, he was awestruck. Given his past with friends, he was very hesitant to talk to you. But God, the way you smiled at him, he forgot all about his past and made conversation.

~ While in the talking/friend stage, he gushes about you through song lyrics he writes in his journal. He would never show you or even tell you about it, though. Maybe 40 years past marriage, on his death bed he would...

~ As friends, Draco tells you about his music (if you're already not a fan... if you are a fan, that's another bullet point). If you react positively, he feels so validated and falls for you even harder.

~ Had you already known he's decently popular, Draco worries that you're only talking to him because of that fame. He obsesses over this fear for a week before finally giving in and asking for assurance.

~ He waits forever to ask you out-- he really wants to make sure you're giving signs that you like him before he does anything. And when he does, he doesn't make it a huge deal. After he takes you home one night, while saying your goodbyes, he pauses to ask if you would be his partner. When you say yes, he has to contain every ounce of his excitement to not look weird or desperate.

~ At the beginning, he's very hesitant to make any big steps forward. You're his first real partner, after all. He starts small with hand-holding, then gradually works up to other forms of affection.

~ He loves touching you, though. Even hand-holding is enough to get him flustered and giggling. He cuddles with you when watching shows or movies, before you're about to go to bed, or any other time he can make an excuse to hold you (or be held by you...). He's mostly the big spoon-- he loves the feeling of protecting you, so to speak-- but he enjoys being held every once in a while.

~ His main love languages are physical touch and quality time. Considering he probably gets gifts all the time from fans, gifts don't mean anything super special to him as it would to most normal people. He does appreciate it when you praise him or reassure him that he's not a bad person/musical artist/etc.

~ Draco will take you on every tour he goes on-- if you want to come with him that is. If you decide to go, he'll show you around every town you stop in, spoil you with good food and small presents, and make sure your trip is just as fun as his. Obviously, you get right up to that barricade at his shows.

~ He would discuss this with you first, but if you were comfortable with it, he would totally bring you up to the stage so you could sing the backing vocals for a song. He would introduce you as his partner (sorry to the other fans in the crowd... sorry Edgar...) and he would make sure the crowd likes you.

~ If you decide to stay home, he's facetiming you every chance he gets. He would probably set his phone up somewhere on the stage so you can watch the show as well. He misses you lots and lots and lots whenever he's away.

~ Draco has definitely written a few songs about you. He just prays you two never break up, because some are his most popular songs...

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

This is all I can think of right now... if I ever come up with more I'll make a new post. Requests are open <3

[misspermitted]

The fun thing about strategically masking rather than just going cold turkey, is that you spend a lot of your life workshopping when masking is worth it. It’s like an ongoing scientific theory. How and when to mask.

(And by fun I mean god I wish I was in a socioeconomic position where I could just unmask all the time. I’m so tired.)

So as evidence for my fellow masking scientists (I’m a humanities major), allow me to share my newly developed hypothesis:

Masking in Long-Term Jobs

Scientists know that the panic instinct to mask in a job interview and first few weeks of a job is strong, however, our hypothesis is that if you don’t need to mask to do the actual job, please consider resisting. Because the evidence shows that it really sucks to trap yourself in a persona. There are two observed phenomena that cause this:

Magneto’s theory from that scene in X-Men First Class that because Raven’s camouflaging she’s only paying half attention to everything else: Magneto is once again correct. The participant cannot fully focus on the job because they’re too busy masking for their coworkers. The outcome of this is massive frustration, exhaustion and eventual burnout.

Invitation to imposter syndrome: If you make any friendly acquaintances or get any positive reinforcement, evidence shows that you will feel like it’s not real. Participants describe being haunted by the idea that they are not an acceptable employee and/or person, only their mask is. Due to phenomena yet to be examined, this somehow leads to one believing their work actually sucks and they’re just pretending it’s good. This phenomena is objectively terrible. Participants in this experiment would not recommend.

Outliers to this hypothesis include the following:

Social service or customer service jobs: Job compliments are reportedly received fine, because masking is incredibly relevant to the ability to do the job well. Reported responses include: 🥰 oh thank you 🥰 I am trying to emotionally manipulate people 🤗 However, research also shows that the outcomes “burnout” and “exhaustion” are sooner reached by these jobs. This research is only preliminary and as of now it is unclear what phenomena cause this.

Jobs you’re just doing for money and you don’t actually care about: This is a false outlier. Autistic people never give 50% on anything. All evidence shows you will end up caring about this job.

The two current theories as to why Autistic participants can’t not care about their job performance are:

Holders of the “Autistic black and white thinking trait” are more likely to think they have a duty and responsibility to the job. (They don’t. We’re in late stage capitalism. You have no responsibility to any business.)

It is one of the behaviours that correspond to the Autistic core emotion: “desperate need to prove themselves worthy and superior because otherwise the damage they got for being different isn’t worth it.” (Other behaviours include: never giving self a break; always pushing self to do better; believing one is both the smartest and worst person in the room; fear and panic about doing something one could be bad at; and inability to sit with own thoughts.)

[botanikos]

"When the nights were at their darkest, I found you." MANY THANKS FOR A WONDERFUL TIME, AND FANTASTIC MEMORIES! - JUDE (BOTANIKOS) 2024.

Originally, I had every intention of creating an elaborate post detailing some noteworthy individuals and just how they've made my time here so incredibly wonderful. Unfortunately, that plan fell through. How? My list wound up longer than I could fathom, and I am uncertain of everyone's comfort in being directly mentioned. Besides that, the truth is, every single mutual I have has played a part in the joy I have found here. So instead, this is what I offer you.

I created this blog in the summer, I believe sometime around August. Truth be told, I wasn't supposed to be here. Months prior to making my Stolas blog, I originally created a separate one for a completely different fandom, making a return with a pair of close friends just for fun. We missed writing and had decided, fuck it, why not go back to tumblr? But when I got into Helluva Boss, I never expected this.

My initial presence was meant to be small. I fully anticipated doing round-robin writing back and forth with my two friends, and maybe a small handful of others. But my return to tumblr was meant to be a "soft opening" sort of ordeal after some terrible past experiences and years away. I returned to things being incredibly different!

Something happened, though. Somewhere along the way, actual magic was afoot, and now I am here with all of you. The vast majority of my time here has been so dazzling, I am starstruck! I have been surrounded by so many warm, compassionate, creative, talented individuals, my heart soars whenever I see you all!

Writing Stolas has been both fun and cathartic. Of course I expected to have fun, but I never expected to make so many deep and meaningful connections while here. I suppose, originally, I had intended to keep people at arm's length (we see how well that worked out). I am grateful for not doing so. Writing is an escape for me, and a wonderful hobby full of adventure and exploration!

So anyways. . . . Thank you, my friends, for having fun with me! Thank you for writing with me, for expressing your opinions and sharing your craft, for having patience, for offering kindness, and for the compliments I have (albeit reluctantly) received and accepted. You have absolutely no idea how much you mean to me, and I do not believe I can conjure the words to prove it to you. It just isn't that simple.

May you always find stars even in your darkest nights, carry hope in your heart during your longest days, and feel loved at the hardest of times.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. ♡

[rowenasdarling]

Fluff Alphabet

i wrote out an entire ellewena fluff alphabet under the cut <3

this is specifically about my relationship with her so like idk don’t rb this and make it an x reader situation. it’s not x reader. this is ME. AND. HER. nobody else.

dni proshippers or ship doubles

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

we get surprisingly domestic a lot of the time. nothing hits like snuggling up with blankets and pillows on the sofa and binge watching something. she'll rest her head on my shoulder and let me play with her fingers or fiddle with her rings. that being said, she's also one for very extravagant dates. like, she's forcing me into the fanciest places available and telling me i can have anything i want no matter the cost (it's not like either of us are paying for it anyway, if the hex bag in her coat pocket is anything to go by).

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

i admire every single thing about her...... she's the prettiest thing in the whole world. her hair's especially beautiful though; so orange, like fire. and i think her ambition and determination are beautiful too. even her ruthlessness, in its own way. she knows what she wants and she'll get it and that extends to the people she cares for too, because she'd hunt down anyone if they touched a hair on my head.

i think she admires my resilience. she thinks i’m brave because she knows how badly i’ve been hurt before, but i still managed to put my trust in her and let her have my heart. she said she wouldn't hurt me and i took her word for it even though it was terrifying.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

similar approaches. gentle touches and cuddles. talking about it, if it would help, or not talking about it if that's what one of us needs. she makes me tea and sometimes enchants it (lightly!) with something to cheer me up or calm me down or whatever suits, and she'll sing if i ask her to. i try to make her laugh and then shower her in compliments about how pretty her smile is.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

not too dissimilar from where we’re at now. we don’t exactly have any of the more “traditional” ideas of a future. we just want to live and enjoy and do it together.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

ro's definitely the dominant one. obviously. even now she's still pretty self-centred. which is fine, i think it's quite cute. she likes things to be how she wants them, she likes to be calling the shots. that's not to say she doesn't hear me though, she does. she's just much more of a natural leader than i am. mostly i’m happy to let her take the lead and i know that if/when i do want to raise something with her, she'll listen. she's not totally allergic to compromise.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

she can get… a bit nasty. she’s quite well known for being generally cruel and cutting, and she knows what all my weak spots are so she knows exactly what to say to hurt me. she does, in the heat of the moment. but it makes her feel terrible, and when she apologises later, she means it. she always makes sure i know that she didn’t actually mean what she said, she only said it because she knew it would be hurtful.

she can hold. a. grudge. i mean look how long she’s been a hater towards the grand coven, for starters. the woman literally runs on spite and hubris. but i’ve got no qualms about throwing myself at her feet and begging for forgiveness if i have to (not that i ever have had to. but i would and she knows it). if i upset her i’d be distraught and she’s well aware that her being unhappy with me is my actual worst nightmare, so she can bring herself to accept an apology from me because she knows i’d do anything to make it up to her and i don’t want her to be unhappy.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

HAHAHAHAHA. little miss megalomania, grateful? be serious. she’s always always always wanting more.

that being said though i’d say she is pretty grateful for me and aware of what i do for her. she’s used to people using her and stabbing her in the back, not doing things for her just because they care for her and want her to be happy. at first she always took it from me with a level of suspicion because she thought i was buttering her up for something, but eventually she was able to accept that i treat her the way i treat her just because i want to, and i don’t expect anything for it.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

she’s a schemer. i’m sure there’s a whole lot of stuff i don’t know about. a lot of the time, she keeps things from me because she thinks it’s just safer that way; she’s involved in some nasty business and she’d rather keep me away from it as much as possible.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

she can let her guard down around me, which is something she can’t do at any other time. like i said, she’s used to people using her, plotting against her, stabbing her in the back, throwing her under the bus. i help her accept that love doesn’t have to only mean weakness, and even if it does make you feel weak sometimes, that doesn’t have to be a bad thing if the person you love can be trusted with it.

she’s helping me not be so scared of being close to someone. i’ve told her about what’s happened to me and how it’s made me terrified to trust someone with my heart, and she’s very set on proving that i can trust her with it. and she’s doing good so far. she’s the safest thing i know <3

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

she doesn’t exactly get jealous because she’s very, very egotistical and she genuinely just thinks she’s better and more deserving of my time than anyone else that i may or may not talk to (and to be fair my constant heart eyes aren’t exactly proving her wrong). but she can get quite possessive over me. she’d boil anyone’s brain if she didn’t like how they were looking at me. i’m hers and she likes me to know it <3

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Y E S. VERY.

on my end it was hesitant and very shy, on hers it was obscenely smug and self-satisfied. and then she took great pleasure in making fun of the way i literally melted into a puddle.

“you look like you’re about to pass out, dear. i can practically hear your heart racing. i mean, it’s goin’ like the clappers! does it really only take a wee kiss to reduce you to this?”

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

she didn’t, i said it first. it was during one of many times she’s talked with me about my issues and i admitted that i was frightened because i’d caught actual legitimate feelings for her and it made me scared that, essentially, all the bad things that happened when i’d loved before would happen again. and i was worried that it was going to be too much for her. that i wanted too much and she wouldn’t be interested, that by being in love with her i would become more hassle than i’m worth. but she said that wasn’t the case because my feelings aren’t one-sided, and that’s kind of how she first told me <3

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

frankly i would be terrified if she proposed because all her previous vERY RICH fiancés have MYSTERIOUSLY DIED..... SO.....

actually though, i don't believe in marriage and she just doesn't really care. we don't feel like we need that to prove we love each other. especially with her, a very human custom/institute like marriage kind of stops meaning much when you're a few centuries old.

she’s kinda into the pretty ring part though, because she’s spoiled and likes her bling, so we might just do that. i dunno. sometimes i think about asking her to do some sort of pagan binding instead, but i’ve never brought it up. but yeah if we were going to do anything adjacent to the m word, it’d be something like that.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

she says dear and darlin’ alllllll the time, and she’s partial to “my dove” as well (she uses these for everybody, not just me). she does have some that she only uses for me: sweetheart, sweetpea (!!!!!!!), honey, honeybun, sometimes just bunny or wee bunny (even though she’s smaller than me…) and if she’s really really wanting to coddle me, babybun. can you tell she likes comparing me to bunnies?

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

she spoils me :) she’s generally a very very selfish little woman, but she finds herself just wanting to give me things/protect me/etc. i think a lot of it is also kind of like… not exactly making up for lost time, but she usually likes to think of herself as this cold-hearted bitch that doesn’t love or need anybody. what that actually means is, since she doesn’t want to go handing it out, all of her capacity for love is directed solely at me.

she’s not particularly obvious about it. i mean, she’s pretty obvious about there being something going on because she’s got a negative amount of shame, but people tend to assume it’s more like. y’know. not exactly an emotional thing.

she’s more inclined towards offering tender actions than tender words. sometimes she’ll just do things really gently, like petting my hair or something inconsequential like that, but it’s so tender. she does give out nice words sometimes too, but it’s usually reserved for the soft, nice moments like when we’re all snuggled up together just relaxing in each others company. conversely, she loves to hear how adored she is. she’s an actual egomaniac and she laps it up every single time, and i enable her because her little smug smile is the cutest thing ever. she always looks proud as punch.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

as we’ve already established she’s absolutely shameless and, in fact, quite notorious for showing off. so yeah, she’s bragging big time.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

the magic comes in handy in more scenarios than i can count. she can magic away my headaches, use it to put me to sleep when the insomnia is bad, she enchants my jewellery to put me in a good mood, little things like that.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

she’s more sensual than sensitive. she’s not overly romantic simply because she’s never had much reason to be until now, so it doesn’t come naturally to her. but she does have her moments and when she does, she’s adorable. she’s good at planning elaborate and extravagant dates and keeping the whole thing a secret to surprise me, which i encourage her to do because i know getting to plot and scheme is important for her well-being <3

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

she’s actually very supportive. she’s always always always in my corner no matter what, and to have someone like her in your corner kinda has a way of making one feel capable of anything.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

she’s a wildcard. she never shies away from new things. she’s a big fan of keeping things spicy and exciting.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

she knows me better than anyone else, and she’s actually surprisingly sweet and gentle with me. most would think she’s incapable of being like that, but she is. she’s just really choosy about who she gives that side of herself to. she’s pretty much the one thing that makes me feel better no matter what, and she knows it and uses that to her own advantage. if i’m unhappy, she knows all she needs to do to make it better is be with me.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

it’s important, deep down. as i said, i’m pretty much the only source of genuine actual love and intimacy she has, and she’s the same for me. i wouldn’t ask her to weigh up the worth of the relationship though. i don’t think a relationship is comparable to other things in life, its a category of its own and comparing it to other things seems unfair to me.

for why it’s worth though, she’s everything to me. i wouldn’t manage without her. i’d fall apart. i can’t say the same for her, but that’s okay. she’d rather have me than not, she’d be sad without me, but she’d get on. she’s a survivor over anything else. she always manages, no matter what. but she’ll never have to manage alone <3

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

she’s a chocolate fiend. she keeps a little stash under the bed and i wake up in the night often to a rustling sound, look over and she’s hanging off the edge of the bed foraging for her sweets. she always attempts to gaslight me about this next morning — “you must’ve dreamt that, honey, i slept through the whole night!” — but it never works.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

VERY AFFECTIONATE. she loves kisses — all kinds — and hugs and handholding. she’s big on casual touches as well — linked arms, brushing against me when we sit next to each other, a hand on my back to coax me ahead of her or holding my waist when she’s squeezing past me, that sort of thing. and she’s despicable when she’s asleep, she has to be all sprawled out all over me.

( also, she likes to be little spoon. don’t tell her i told u. )

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

she’ll text me no matter where she is or how inappropriate it might be to have her phone out. she quite literally does not care about appearing rude. she likes me more than whoever she’s with anyway, so why would she give her attention to them when she could give it to me?

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

does coming back from the dead count? i mean she’d be doing that anyway but she’s definitely doing it for me. she’s also a little more careful, a little less reckless — even though she’ll not stay dead, it’s still a hassle to die and come back. more importantly though, it’d be absolutely traumatising for me if she died, even if it’s not permanent, so she takes extra precautions now and is less reckless.

she’s also given up a certain subset of the numerous scams she’s been known to run. no more fake fiancés that mysteriously die for her, thank you. again, she’d rather give her time to me than whatever stupid rich guy she could swindle. she’s getting on just fine selling spells and rigging poker games.

[melkor-did-nothing-wrong]

Hiiiiiii :DD Sending this as an ask bc I feel like it’s been a while since I sent you one of those lol.

What do you think the Dark Lord’s favorite ways of showing each other affection are?

Besides this, I mean.

Ahhhh but what am I to pick now that you took the best option off the table? (Kidding. But maaaan I'm so happy I put that bit of nonsense into your brain haha dragon silliness is always a win!)

I think for Melkor it's physical affection of all sorts. Kissing Mairon on the cheek, wrapping an arm around him in public, hugs, holding hands, being cuddly in general, back rubs and massages (Am I saying this because Mairon works hard all day, or because my own back hurts? who knows! Probably both!!!) To me, Mairon is the sort of person who doesn't really care for getting compliments. Both because he already knows what he is and isn't good at and genuinely does, knows his worth and the worth of his work, so he does not feel the need to receive reminders, AND ALSO because he is hyperaware of how easy it is to get on people's good side by complimenting them first and then asking for a favour or something of the sort. To him it's more important to actually see proof that others in his circle genuinely enjoy his company. I know there are a lot of fanon depictions where Mairon is depicted as hating Melkor for being too handsy/physically affectionate, but I think Melkor's extremely averse to touch in most instances so him being physically affectionate towards Mairon is a great way to show that he genuinely enjoys being around him and also trusts him enough to be this comfortable around him. (And also it's a sort of "OMG GUYS LOOK HE LIKES ME BACK!!!!!!!" which is honestly probably a first for him hahaha.)

From Mairon... Well, I am a "Mairon brushing and/or braiding Melkor's hair" truther at heart. "Melkor's hair is longer than Mairon's" is the one piece of semi-popular fanon I'm going accept with no further questions because it's great. But braiding takes long enough when your hands are perfectly functional and your hair is shorter, so I imagine it'll take a looot longer when you're working with a physical limitation/disability and have long hair. So Mairon helps. Because he wants to. And he likes patterns. And he likes making his hubby look pretty. And sometimes he's a petty bitch who likes them to have matching hairstyles. Mairon also likes fixing Melkor's hair throughout the day. Because it's adorable, and people who call partners doing that "annoying" are wrong.

But also compliments. Because Melkor is a bitter, angry old man, and for him everything he's heard early on had to do with how bad he was or how wrong he was or how everything was his fault somehow, despite it literally being part of Eru's greater plan. When all you've heard is how bad you are and how everything you do is terrible/the literal cause of the world ending or whatever... Yeah, I imagine Melkor LOVES being told nice things from time to time! <3