#i get that you have bigger fish to fry

[miku-bookclub]

johnny silverhand not supporting the moxxes and saying not to risk your neck for whores is really the epitome of him being a hypocrite anti-capitalist

[zer0point5ive]

david for the wip ask game 👀? if no david then.... wound (like an injury, not a wound tape)

send me a word !

“He meant a lot to you, huh? This ‘guy.’”

Lawrence sighed against pale skin, teeth dragging across a sharp collarbone and hands reaching down to thumb at the edge of David’s threadbare t-shirt as he considered the question. As he thought about his answer.

[twistedappletree]

keeping anon off for a while actually because seems like every time I turn it on, someone’s hellbent on screaming over serious anti-char shit (probably the same person tbh lmaooo) and idrk why it’s going into my inbox since I never get into any of the fandom drama/discourse

but I’m literally just here to joke around and look at pretty art, I don’t want anything to do with y’all’s anti shit fr

[frankensteindotpdf]

i feel like i can only process one of my mental illnesses at a time which is fascinating! both because its wild when i get around to one i havent considered much/in a while and because its hilarious to realize how much i have just straight up not been noticing

[pelmenifemme]

Hot take but it is NOT OKAY when someone [insert thing only like one strange person on the internet has done]

[moonlightpirate]

Oh to be a starbucks customer and to complain about such trivial things I truly wish those were my biggest worries

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn��t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t��” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi is insanely jealous of the new addition to the household.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealous!Megumi

*Didn't have anything bigger for Toji for father's day but I had to celebrate it one way or another sfjosjf. Enjoy my lovelies!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Papa, up!” Megumi yells, hoping to get his father’s attention when he sees Toji holding the new addition to the family. Megumi has reached the age where he claims to be independent, after all, four is such a big age. He’d cry if you or Toji held him, but he’s changed his mind.

“Your baby sister is crying, give me a minute.” Toji sounds annoyed, knowing that Megumi does it out of jealousy. Jealous of a baby that can’t even hold her own head, kids are so dumb. Megumi lets out a cry before yelling again,

“Papa, up!” He wants attention now. He doesn’t want to wait until Toji is done with some stinky baby. Toji lets out an exasperated sigh as tears begin to stream down Megumi’s face– Crocodile tears, but tears nonetheless. He extends his arms and opens and closes his tiny fists repeatedly, yelling, “Up!”

“Megumi, you don’t want to wake up mommy, do you?” Toji asks, trying his best to calm down the crying baby in his arms while also handling Megumi. Toji goes unheard as Megumi begins to cry his little heart out. 

Toji takes a deep breath, trying to remain collected in this situation. Megumi is only four and getting adjusted to the presence of his little sister. Toji decides that it’s best to walk away, going to the kitchen to get the baby’s bottle and deal with her first since Megumi’s issue isn’t easily resolved. 

“Papa!” Megumi yells, following around Toji as he gets a bottle in the baby’s mouth. 

“Megumi, wait for me in the living room.” Toji says, but Megumi isn’t listening. Daddy isn’t like mommy, whatever mommy says goes but when Toji speaks he goes ignored; Toji’s is far scarier and intimidating than you are, he doesn’t understand why Megumi doesn’t take him seriously. “Megumi, go away!”

“I’m running away!” Megumi stomps his little feet before finally leaving Toji to deal with the baby. Toji breathes in relief, his pesky little bug finally giving him a moment alone. He’s able to go to the living room and sit down comfortably as he finishes feeding his daughter. 

“He’ll come around, princess. He hasn’t witnessed just how cute you are.” Toji coos, as if the baby can understand or care. She finishes her bottle, and Toji burps her before setting her down in her crib. He usually chooses to hold her whenever he can, but right now he has bigger fish to fry.

Toji walks into Megumi’s room, watching how his son tries to fit his most valuable toys into a backpack. Toji is trying his best to not chuckle, knowing that Megumi is deeply hurt. Toji takes a seat on Megumi’s tiny bed, clearing his throat before asking, “Need help packing?”

“You hate me!” Megumi cries, and Toji rolls his eyes. Was he that dramatic when he was Megumi’s age? “Mommy and you don’t love me anymore.”

“Oh c’mon, why do you say that, urchin?” Toji tries to see the little guy’s point of view before attempting to comfort him. The last thing Toji needs is attempting to explain to you why Megumi is packing up all his toys– You leave him alone with the kids for a two hour nap and Megumi’s already moving out. 

“You only care for the new baby.” Megumi angrily muffles, and Toji could’ve guessed as much. 

“C’mere, baby. Let me carry you now.” Toji opens his arms for Megumi, and Megumi glares at his father. He wipes away his tears before deciding that he does want to be carried by his father, after all, the tantrum is simply because of this. Toji picks him up, setting him down on his lap before kissing his forehead. “Is this why you’ve been so sensitive? Because of the new baby?”

“Yeah…” Megumi pouts, and it takes everything in Toji to not laugh.

“I will tell you something but don’t tell mommy, okay?” Toji begins, almost whispering to Megumi. Megumi’s eyes perk up, and Toji is fighting back a smirk. “We… Don’t like the new baby that much. I mean, we just met her. But you, urchin? You’re our favorite.”

“Really?” Megumi’s voice is full of hope, and Toji prays that this means Megumi will stop being so jealous about his baby sister. Toji doesn’t hesitate before nodding. It reminds Megumi that he doesn’t like being held anymore, which makes him get off Toji’s lap.

“Will you behave around her, now?” Toji asks, and Megumi takes a moment to think about it.

“Can we sell her?” Megumi responds, which makes Toji’s jaw drop. Did his cute little urchin seriously just say that?

“Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed near her room.” Toji stands up from the tiny bed, his knees cracking. He leans down and kisses the top of Megumi’s head, “Now unpack all of your toys before mommy wakes up.”

[luveline]

hi hii jade! Was wondering if you could do something sweet and fluffy w poly!marauders where reader wakes up in a very cozy and giggly mood 🤭 just some warm domestic love hehe

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

Someone is kissing his waist. Sirius squirms in his dozing, not expecting it as those kisses travel up his naked chest. Your laugh is breathy and soft as you kiss his shoulder, your weight strewn across his side and arm, your hand finding his cheek. 

Your fingers feel inhuman in the best way, like an angel. They spread across his face and neck as you hold him in place and kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “I love you…” you whisper, the ‘you’ turning long and slow like honey slipping down his front. “I wish you didn’t sleep so much.” 

You kiss him again, and with that you’re out of bed. Out of the room before Sirius has time to gather his wits, but he does gather them, because he needs more of whatever that was. 

What sort of sweetheart kisses somebody with such gentleness thinking they won’t remember? To press affection into him with want of nothing in return. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just scrubs at his sleep-swollen face and fishes the crusties from his eyes as he descends the stairs, numb-legged. 

James is grabbing you by the hips, helping you up onto the counter. His curls bounce at the back of his neck. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks. 

“Love, for sure.” 

“I can see that. Eggs? Omelette?” 

“Jamie, you can make anything. Actually, let me make you something–”

James pushes you further onto the top. “That’s okay, I’m cooking. I want to cook.” 

Sirius isn’t insecure, exactly. He feels he’s quite handsome when he attempts to be, and he knows you like him whether he’s trying or not, but he doesn’t know if you want to be interrupted, either of you, and it’s his private agony to wonder what to do. Then you spot him over James’ shoulder and your eyes practically sparkle. 

“Siri…” you sing-song, melodic as he crosses the kitchen linoleum to be with you and James. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” 

Sirius touches James’ elbow with love but swoops in on you. “Did you wake me?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his arms working behind you to hold you as his lips travel downward. He isn’t half as sweet as you were, too busy trying to squeeze your torso against his and mould you into a perfect fit against him and under his arm to really think about what he’s doing. 

“She did it to me, too.” 

Sirius pulls your face into his neck and turns to James with a grin. “And Remus?” 

“He was already awake. But she kissed him and did that thing where her eyes somehow look bigger and shiny and he had to go for a walk.” 

“He didn’t have to go for a walk,” you mumble from Sirius’ neck. “He always walks on Saturday mornings. He’s just getting some herbs from the greenhouse.” 

The back door opens on cue. Remus reappears with an aura about him much like yours, dropping the cut herbs on the cutting board, and stopping just shy of everyone to smile. “Did she do it to you, as well?” he asks. 

James squeezes Remus’ face in his hand, a quick thank you for the herbs that has the latter turning pink. 

“She waylaid me with kisses like a common whore.” 

“Sirius,” James says scornfully. 

“Me being the whore,” Sirius says. You laugh into his neck, seemingly with no inclination to leave the circle of his arms. “Will I ever see your face again?” he asks. 

“It’s cozy here. I wish we’d stayed in bed.” 

“We can go back.” 

“After breakfast,” James says, popping an egg on the edge of the frying pan, breaking the shell one handed as he gives the sizzling oil a shake. 

Remus not so subtly crosses the last of the space to slot himself between your right thigh and the counter. Sirius has the urge to cup his cheek as James had done —Remus has an extremely holdable face— but is distracted by your nose nuzzling the line of his throat. 

“I love you,” you say. 

Doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. All three boys melt. 

“I’d like to do some really weird things to you,” Sirius says. 

“Me too,” James agrees. “But we do need breakfast first.” 

“No one is doing anything weird to me, it’s the weekend.” You beam as Remus laughs, seemingly your intention. 

Sirius backs away to a polite but still close proximity. He isn’t selfish; being in a ‘strange’ relationship like this one is a lot of reading cues, and a lot of just plain old climbing into people's laps when you want them, because nobody can truly read minds. Yet Sirius can see that you’re in the sort of mood where everything you touch turns to gold and all the boys want a piece of you, and who is he to get in the way of that? 

Well, he’s your boyfriend. He takes a kiss before he delegates himself to being herb-chopper, stealing glances of you from the corner of his eye. 

You tease a strand of Remus’ hair behind his ear. 

“Weird stuff is for weekdays only,” you’re murmuring. “What I want today is the real romantic stuff.” 

“Then you can have it,” Remus murmurs back. 

Sirius will happily be doing very romantic things to both of you after his omelette. James, too, if he’s so inclined. 

[arolesbianism]

Untreated dst dynamic of the century is Wendy and Wurt they are so delightful to me. Yes this is 65% because of Wurt's walking stick dialogue but also I'm correct

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[dearcharms]

i normally dont replay routes but i think i will replay asagi.... i get why ppl dont like it bcs tbh it is POORLY executed and honestly.. objectively speaking i should have hated it bcs his route was so shit. But somehow he became my 2nd fave overall watdahell it doesnt help that i wouldnt exactly rank lp high in my list either....... asagi sensei what did u do to me

[astonmartinii]

fresh out the slammer [guilty as sin part five] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x sainz!reader

no court cases, no ferrari PR jail... i'm sure nothing will happen, right?

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,289,405 others

tagged: olliebearman, francocolapinto & pepemarti

f1: THERE IT IS!!! The 2025 grid is set with Ollie Bearman at Haas, Franco Colapinto at Williams and Pepe Marti at Sauber.

view all comments

user317: HOLY SHIT

user318: i hate to celebrate someone losing their job in this economy but FUCK THAT MAN WOO HOO WELCOME TO UNEMPLOYMENT CARLOS SAINZ

olliebearman: can't wait to get started (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

user319: when are you going to recruit pepe and kimi to the leclerc family agenda

pepemarti: y/n has been my celeb crush since i was like 13 (sorry charles) so trust me idc about the spanish guy

olliebearman: he fully doesn't play about y/n, he even tries to read poetry (key word being tries)

pepemarti: you can shame me all you like but i think y/n would appreciate the effort

yourusername: you would be correct !

pepemarti: OMG ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

charles_leclerc: i'll take you in if you promise you're over your crush on y/n, it would be very inappropriate

pepemarti: I AM I SWEAR

user320: i know carlos gotta be sick seeing the spanish youngster freak out more about his sister

yourusername: i fear he has bigger fish to fry right now

user321: @carlossainz55 BOO! did i scare you? i'm a job application

user322: being on the internet as a sainz fan gotta be torture at this point

user323: former delusional carlando fan here! he brought this upon himself lol

maxverstappen1: evil may be conquered but these three and kimi look like prime candidates to join the united front of hating

yourusername: we gotta get them started while they're young

charles_leclerc: i fear we don't have enough room in the house for all these kids

francocolapinto: do we really need the aussie?

oscarpiastri: i was here before you ???

yourusername: we can get bunkbeds?

olliebearman: does leo really need him own room

charles_leclerc: WATCH THAT TONE

kimiantonelli: i'm quite small if that helps

yourusername: looks like we have a new favourite

pepemarti: ????????

user324: see? carlos loses his job and suddenly all is good in f1 again... coincidence? i think not.

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 1,945,209 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, olliebearman & kimiantonelli

yourusername: and the pieces all fall into place ...

view all comments

user326: this is a level of motherism we have yet to see in f1

user327: and mother in a literal sense these ones take her up to like five grid kids and one dog

maxverstappen1: don't erase her cat godson and goddaughter

yourusername: leo is almost fully cat trained ( ��ᗜ≦)

albonpets: do not even think of coming for our brand

yourusername: which one am i talking to?

albonpets: HORSEY

yourusername: ... okay then

charles_leclerc: seriously?

yourusername: i'm not going to fight a (my favourite) albon cat charles, i may have the sainz last name but i'm NOT carlos

charles_leclerc: it'll be leclerc before you know it

yourusername: (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

user328: no because at this point i can fully picture carlos having an argument with a cat

albonpets: we're down to tussle for y/n

user329: i'm dying, carlos lost so bad ALBON PETS ARE SHADING HIM

user330: guys are we ready for monza tho? y/n and charles fully back, the united front of hating back, italy don't play about charles... carlos girl i'd sit this one out it doesn't even matter that you're driving the red car

maxverstappen1: at least it won't be me being booed for once

carlossainz55: i'm not a bitch. if people want to boo me they'll only expose themselves as sheep

oscarpiastri: BAAAA

olliebearman: BAAAA

francocolapinto: BAAAA

kimiantonelli: BAAAA

pepemarti: BAAAA

charles_leclerc: parenthood is so precious

carlossainz55: you think i care that these little runts like you guys? they'll be out the sport faster than your other little pet american

logansargeant: at least i'm pretty

francocolapinto: sorry i can't hear you over my williams seat - you really thought that was gonna be yours huh 🤔

user331: obsessed with how carlos has just resorted to name calling because his only 'ammunition' against y/n is that she always wanted to marry charles and didn't want to work

user332: if that's illegal LOCK ME UP BABY

yourusername: they nearly did 😭

user332: oh yeah my bad g

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 4,398,400 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: fresh out the slammer

view all comments

user333: LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOO

francocolapinto: VAMOSSSSSS

user334: this was actually insanely poetic, ferrari i'm still angry at you but thank you for this genius strategy

user335: today you are excused, tomorrow we go back to hating

user336: the north remembers

yourusername: never in doubt starboy - i love you, you deserve this so much

charles_leclerc: i love you more, this win is for you after everything we've been through

yourusername: you're too sweet - it's all you baby and the win is all yours, my prize is being. yours

charles_leclerc: so glad we could have all of our REAL family around us today

yourusername: i love you all ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

oscarpiastri: i guess if there's anyone to lose to here, it would be my grid dad

francocolapinto: if you don't want the P2 i'll gladly take it off of your hands

yourusername: okay babies let's calm down and celebrate that we ALL scored points today

olliebearman: thanks mum and dad

pepemarti: did you guys see my F2 podium (๑>◡<๑)?

charles_leclerc: we did!

yourusername: well done pepe :3

pepemarti: hehehehehehheheheheehehehe

maxverstappen1: oh boy got out of ferrari jail and now we're ALL being subjected to the conjugal visits

charles_leclerc: stay outta my business

maxverstappen1: BROTHER 4 MILLION PEOPLE IN YOUR BUSINESS

yourusername: and four million people know my man is off limits

yourusername: @carlossainz55 stop paying instagram models to flirt with my man

charles_leclerc: @carlossainz55 what money are you using for this i had to close my DMs

user337: HE'S PAYING INSTAGRAM MODELS TO TRY AND FLIRT WITH CHARLES THE VERY GUY WHO HAD HIS CHILDHOOD RIVAL DELIVER LOVE LETTERS WHEN HIS PHONE WAS TAKEN ???

oscarpiastri: we never said carlos was smart

f1tea

liked by user339, user340 and 11,943 others

f1tea: the ramifications of the sainz civil war may be a lot worse than previously feared. carlos sainz does not have a seat for the 2025 f1 season and doesn't look like he'll be chosen for a reserve role either with bridges with red bull firmly burnt. however, one of the biggest effects of this 'war' has been on those who still choose to associate with carlos. it's been reported that mclaren have had to turn down a number of sponsors after they asked that it is only run on oscar's car and that lando norris is not seen with the brand. do you think we'll see lando jump ship from carlos or will mclaren become a safehaven for sainz?

view all comments

user341: mclaren? a safe haven for carlos sainz? the same mclaren that houses the first child of y/n and charles? i'd like to see them try

user342: finally the carlando PR spin is dead

user343: they way they both thought that was their ultimate get out of jail free card and now it's like incriminating

user344: isn't this all getting a little petty now? like y/n and charles are together and carlos doesn't have a seat? what's the point of keeping all of this drama going?

user345: tbf this 'drama' was never going away the moment they exposed themselves for trying to use their daughter/sister as bait to further carlos' career

user346: if that wasn't downright criminal then unlawfully suing your daughter/sister for everything she rightfully earnt WAS

user347: yeah just because 55 fans and the sainzs themselves want to bury that loss doesn't mean it's not like one of the first things that come up when. you google carlos - of course sponsors are not gonna want ANYTHING to do with that

user348: poor lando getting caught in the petty crossfire

user349: i mean he was shit slinging at y/n after austria and that girl has levels of voodoo only taylor swift can better

user350: he's also a grown man who has seen this all go down behind the scenes so he's made his bed and has to lie in it

user351: the way the sponsors are just piling up for charles as well karma really is doing a number right now

user352: his charm is so universal that oscar is becoming one of the most marketable drivers as well

user353: no but as someone who was on the ground at monza, it's BAD like people were wearing their sainz merch with the 55 or spanish flag covered up

user354: oh he got them acting like middle aged football fans it's BAD

user355: at least they haven't started burning stuff yet

user356: if he takes out charles i fear it won't take long

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,452,097 others

yourusername: my new poetry and letter collection, the alchemy, is out today and you guys already made it a new york times bestseller. my heart is so full! the last couple months made me feel like i would never get to love so thank you for showing me that everything is possible x

view all comments

user357: ma'am i am in love with you

user358: get in line buddy

charles_leclerc: i will run all of you over

maxverstappen1: thank you for the dedication, it was a traumatic time for us all

yourusername: you simply could've not read my private letters to my lover?

maxverstappen1: and where's the fun in that?

yourusername: a pigeon wouldn't have done this to me...

maxverstappen1: yeah well a pigeon also hasn't been your best friend for years and doesn't have a couch and cats to comfort you

yourusername: you make a good point

user359: she's really out here making me believe in love

charles_leclerc: the most talented woman in the world, i'm blessed to be on the receiving end of such words

yourusername: writing is so much easier with a muse like you

charles_leclerc: you're making me blush

user360: sure if my boyfriend was a greek god i'd also write good poetry

charles_leclerc: no you couldn't, not like her

yourusername: (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

lewishamilton: congratulations y/n, what an achievement! however, i do think the real achievement here is getting this grid to read a book

georgerussell63: excuse me?

alexalbon: ... you got me but i wanted the tea ☕️

charles_leclerc: APPRECIATE THE POETRY PEOPLE

alexalbon: funny how the letters were back and forth... but none of yours made it to the book

yourusername: ALEX :(

charles_leclerc: i didn't want my sad ramblings to drag down her shine - i thought you would get that seeing how bad you are at golf compared to lily

lilymunhe: oop.

user361: where are the children

yourusername: eating my cake :(

maxverstappen1: they're actually being really cute and are all sat in a circle reading it (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

charles_leclerc: gotta make sure they can read none of us finished school

f1

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 2,309,450 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & carlossainz55

f1: LAST LAP SHUNT! Carlos Sainz takes Max Verstappen out in baku and the two did not mince their words on the radio

view all comments

user363: not to be dramatic but that's lowkey attempted murder

user364: at this point carlos is trying to ACTUALLY recreate that list of crimes meme

user365: let's get his ass in JAIL then

oscarpiastri: if i speak i'm in big trouble

carlossainz55: speak it big man - if you wanna act like a big guy back it up

oscarpiastri: okay you are a narcissistic misogynist who can't bear being told no. you are a talented man but without your name you would be nowhere but you lack the selfawareness to be grateful for where you are which is why you don't have a job. you are reckless and dangerous and the very few friends you have will drop you when you no longer serve a purpose in f1

user366: oh shit babe came out swinging

oscarpiastri: i'm hearing a lot of CRICKETS?

oscarpiastri: exactly - pussy.

user367: thank you franco colapinto for bringing back drivers with zero media training

user368: once again i am asking for proximity chat in f1

user369: the sweet souls on twitter would NOT be able to handle it

yourusername: bro tried to assassinate my best friend but i'm the problem

carlossainz55: stop being so dramatic, if anyone was to purposely hurt someone it would be max - look where he came from

yourusername: first of all FUCK YOU

yourusername: second of all, max is stronger than you ever will be, how dare you try and use his childhood against him when you know he's nothing but a gentle soul

yourusername: thirdly, by this logic the reason i'm such a 'gold-digging back-stabbing whore' is because of YOU GUYS

user370: i am absolutely losing it at the fact that carlos is furiously typing these at the fia HQ

user371: i know his PR officer is TIRED

francocolapinto: sorry our uncle got sniped but we did also get points @olliebearman

olliebearman: JUST TO SAY WE WENT TO SEE MAX AND HE IS OKAY BUT YES THANK YOU FOR THE POINTS

yourusername: guys lets keep the inside thoughts inside

francocolapinto: so you're not proud of us (╹ -╹)?

yourusername: I AM, I AM, WE ARE (charles is on the podium he'll tell you later)

francocolapinto: ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

olliebearman: ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 1,387,300 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: i lived bitch

view all comments

user372: they're gonna have to do a little more than that to take down the united front of hating

user373: 50g can't stop the grind for these dudes

maxverstappen1: i would call that man a bitch with my last breath

user374: them celebrating the end of carlos' career by doing a mukbang is killing me

user375: when the funeral food be good as fuck you be forgetting who died

carlossainz55: you guys really are so pathetic

maxverstappen1: i didn't try to pimp out my sister, make her homeless then sue her but that might just me be

maxverstappen1: also the data will prove what we all know btw

carlossainz55: that you're reckless just like your daddy?

maxverstappen1: at least i can admit my dad is an asshole and i distanced myself, your dad is just as much a bitch but you gotta parade him around because no one else can bear being around you

carlossainz55: the only bad thing my dad ever did in his life is help bring the spawn of satan into the world

maxverstappen1: whatever, enjoy your race ban bozo

user376: is max suggesting ... it was on purpose

user377: if it was carlos might just be as dumb as they all say because fool was about to get a podium

yourusername: THEY CAN'T GET RID OF US BITCH

maxverstappen1: you're a sick motherfucker if you're enjoying this sainz disasterclass well i only just got out of the medical centre 🤧🤧🤧

charles_leclerc: no but deadass we're sorry you got taken out

maxverstappen1: someone had to be the mercutio to you people's romeo and juliet

maxverstappen1: PLEASE DO NOT KILL YOURSELVES AFTER I'VE GONE THROUGH ALL THIS SHIT FOR YOU

yourusername: we can't leave you with all these kids

charles_leclerc: yeah that's a lot of kids to inherit

user378: christian horner i hate you but you gotta get on your zoom

oscarpiastri: where's my congratulations 🤨

maxverstappen1: @yourusername @charles_leclerc yeah you can keep your kids

charles_leclerc: we're proud of you oscar (don't beat me again)

yourusername: well done oscar (your verbal takedown was particularly impressive as well)

oscarpiastri: 🤭🤭🤭

fin

note: lol i'm back. i was busy with work and then in hospital. but we all love guilty as sin? will get to tagging soon one sec

[revasserium]

chapter one: a shadow of the past

roronoa zoro; 3,225 words; angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, mostly enemies in this chapter, tragic!backstory, flashbacks, slightly canon divergent, baroqueworks!reader, no "y/n"

summary: in which zoro will always find you, even if you don't want to be found

a/n: not much to say here other than enjoy! :)

< to the table of contents

It would be months before he sees you again, months before he runs across the typeset of your codename, on a wanted poster with an obscene amount of Berry tacked underneath — more, he thinks, dully, than the last time he’d seen it.

MS. DOUBLE-NINES — WANTED — 90,000,000 BERRY.

“Agent from Baroque Works… seems like a bad lot,” Sanji says, frowning as he squints at the poster, smoke curling from between his teeth.

“Yeah, dunno about that,” Zoro reaches out to rip the poster from the wall, crumpling it in his fist.

“There a story you wanna tell us, moss-head?” Sanji asks, slating Zoro a long glance.

Zoro scoffs, “Barely,” but at a hard look from Nami, he relents, rolling his eyes, “they sent someone called Mr. 7 to recruit me a while back.”

“And…?” Nami asks, probing as the three of them turn back towards the bustling street market, Usopp and Luffy already halfway down the street, chattering about lunch.

“And nothin’. I took care of him.” Zoro makes to toss the crumpled poster onto the ground but he pauses, glancing down at his hands, “the Marines still owe me his bounty though.”

Sanji laughs, even as Nami scoffs.

“Well, let’s try to stay out of their way till we get out of here,” Nami says, eyes caught on the poster in Zoro’s hands, “at least in the Grand Line, there’ll be bigger fish for them to fry.”

Zoro wets his lips, staring down at your disfigured face before tossing it aside.

“If you say so.”

— — —

You have the most delicate hands — nimble fingers and soft, marshmallow palms. You’d cradle the miniscule wooden knife just so, slipping the dulled edge along the tops of the homemade wagashi, making marks in perfect intervals until the cake resembled a flower, just so.

“Okay, now who wants a piece?” you’d ask, giggling as the boys all scrambled over themselves, raising their hands and hooting like monkeys.

Zoro always held back, feigning disinterest, even though his mouth would water just the same.

“Here, a piece for you too,” you’d say, after giving everyone their due share. Behind you, the other boys would always be squabbling for an extra slice, fighting over the crumbles left on the thin rice paper packaging.

“Don’t want it,” he’d say, looking anywhere but at the tantalizing slice of wagashi, the soft lotus-paste insides nearly translucent, the pastel mochi exterior the perfect amount of sticky and sweet.

His mouth goes dry as you hold it up in front of him, cupped in your palms like just-found treasure.

“Everyone else got a piece,” you say, as if that’s reason enough for him to forgo his abstinence.

He swallows.

“Don’t move.”

His eyes flicker open to the shape of you, crouching by his hammock, a knife held to his throat. Outside, the night is thick and moonless, the seawater lapping softly at the sides of the ship.

Zoro huffs out a breath, “Or what?”

He blinks, the afterimages of the dream still solid behind his eyelids.

“Not sure yet, but I’d bet you wouldn’t like the answer, either way,” you say, your voice barely more than a hiss as you shift the blade from one hand to another and he feels the sharp edge of it skim along his skin.

You’re careful not to break any skin as you pull back, ever so slightly, allowing him to sit up.

“What’dyou want?” he asks, moving slow, fingers inching towards his swords, propped by the hammock’s side.

“Nothing too much,” you answer, “just a free ride off this island. And the next time you dock, you’ll never see me again.”

Zoro scoffs, “That a promise?”

Even in the dark, your grin slants crescent-moon sharp. Zoro blinks again, his mind fighting to reconcile the image of you as a child over the shadow hunched over him now, holding a knife to his throat.

“Something like that,” you say, your eyes flickering down to where his fingers are inches from his swords. Zoro sighs, tugging his hand back.

“Fine — but one condition,” he says.

You hike an eyebrow, “From where I’m sitting, you’re not exactly in the position to be making demands.”

Zoro smirks, folding his arms across his chest and stretching out on his hammock.

“And from where I’m sitting — we’re one alarm away from my entire crew wakin’ up. And… they might not be as good as you one on one but… all together?” he shrugs, “I mean, you do the math.”

Your lips curl into a contemptuous snarl, but you don’t fight him on it. Instead, you pull the knife away, tucking it into your belt.

“Fine. What’s your condition?”

Zoro peers at you from a half-lidded eye, “Tell me what happened to you.”

You puff out a laugh, leaning back against a wooden barrel, propping your arm on your knee.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

Zoro motions towards the darkened window, “We’ve got a lotta time.”

You turn your head away, “Maybe tomorrow,” you say, your voice low and fractured.

Zoro frowns, “You made a promise.”

You cast him a faint, woeful smile, “Yeah, but I never told you when I’d tell you the story.”

— — —

The next morning, you awaken to a wide-eyed stare from a boy who couldn’t have been much older than you, grinning ear to ear.

“Hi!”

“W-what the —”

You scramble backwards before realizing that your back is already pressed against the wall.

“Oh! Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up!” the boy leans back, still grinning, propping both his hands on his hips as he stares down at you. Behind him, you can see the shape of Zoro, leaning by the door, swords at his side, a smirk on his face.

“What the hell’s going on here?” you ask, shooting him a dirty look, “you made a promise,” you spit the word back in his face.

Zoro shrugs, “Yeah, but I never said your free ride would be a secret.”

Your eyes narrow into slits as the boy standing over you claps a fist to his palm, turning towards Zoro.

“Oh! I remember now — we saw her on one of the wanted posters! You’re uhm — Ms… Ninety-Nine?”

You wince, sighing as you push yourself up and dust off your trousers, “Miss Double-Nines, but… close enough.”

Zoro snickers.

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m the Captain of this ship! But… I gotta say, your name is way cooler. Did you get to pick it yourself? Or did someone at Bara-Rock Works give it to you?”

You fight down the twitch threatening your left eye as your gaze slingshots to Zoro and back to Luffy again.

“Uhm — someone… assigned it to me. And it’s Baroque Works.”

“Right! Yeah — that one!” Luffy smiles, seemingly unbothered by the implications of you being a member of a known criminal organization.

“Breakfast! C’mon — before it goes cold!” a voice calls down the hallway and a moment later, a blond-haired man in an all black suit peeks his head around the doorframe.

“Ah, our special guest is awake — so what about it, Ms. Double-Nines? Any requests for breakfast? I could do a few eggs, sunny side up, with a side of toast and some freshly made tangerine-butter. Or, we’ve still got some batter left over from the blueberry pancakes yesterday. Take your pick.”

You blink at the man with one shoulder propped against the doorframe, the other supporting a half-done cigarette, bringing it to his mouth for a casual puff.

Zoro lets out an annoyed grunt, “What blueberry pancakes? You gave me left-over potato mush for breakfast yesterday.”

The blonde turns to Zoro with a vindictive smirk, “You really think I’d waste the good stuff on someone with the palette of a forest slug?”

“Oh! I want the eggs! And can you make the sausages you made the other day, Sanji? Those were the best!” Luffy bounces out of the room with a bright smile as Sanji chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to wait a bit for those!” he calls down the hallway after Luffy’s rapidly retreating form.

You glance from Zoro to Sanji and back again, your stomach a mess of knots, your heart skidding strangely inside your chest.

Sanji slates you a helpless look and a lopsided smile, “C’mon then — can’t miss breakfast. Most important meal of the day!”

Introductions, as they are, take the better part of the morning. Though by noon, you’re still unsure if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where you’d miraculously escaped the dark tangles of your past, and into some idyllic, sun-lit story full of great friends and endless adventures.

“Mm, that’s a pretty name, but I still think Ms. Ninety-Nine is cooler,” Luffy says, when you finally tell them your name — the one that had been yours for your whole life before you’d been forced to become someone — no, something else.

“It’s Ms. Double — nevermind,” you sigh, shaking your head, feeling an incredulous laugh bubble out of your chest.

“So… you trying to leave Baroque Works?” Sanji asks, casually adjusting his fishing lines as Nami pours over a hand-drawn map of the East Blue, a pair of tiny glasses perched on her nose. Of all the members of the Strawhat Crew, she’d been the least overtly welcoming, staying quiet and keeping her distance.

And, judging by hardness that lies just on the other edge of her smile, you can’t blame her. She knows a liar when she sees one; you do too.

“Something like that,” you say, glancing away.

Zoro lounges against the main mast, his eyes closed.

“So! You must be a really good fighter!” Luffy says, tugging on his own fishing lines till Sanji nudges him away.

“I —” your voice catches and you look away, “I’m alright.”

“I heard that only the best fighters in Baroque Works get codenames with numbers,” Nami says without looking up, her tone casual. Her hand is steady as she traces a long line through the center of the map.

“It’s… a bit more complicated than that,” you say, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“Complicated how?” Nami asks, finally looking up, her gaze bright and hard and unrelenting.

You lick your lips, shrugging, “It’s just… you don’t have to be a great fighter to be… useful.”

And something about the way you say that makes everyone stiffen. By the main mast, Zoro shifts, peering open an eye to stare at you. But before he can say anything, Luffy jumps up, pulling hard at his fishing rod.

“Look! I think I caught something!”

That night, when they drop anchor, the ocean is still, and the summer air is almost too sweet. Luffy proposes a toast, to a new friend, he says, and Sanji has never turned down a toast to a pretty girl. Even Nami, who had been cautious all day, lured by the sweet tangerine wine and the tantalizing summer air, flashes you a small grin as she raises her glass.

You manage to choke down the wine passed the scream curdling at the back of your throat.

And then later, when the Millions come calling, no one notices the way you slip away, pulling all the fire towards you until you’re too far to be saved.

“Stay back!” you call, even as one of the Millions hauls you onto the deck of a smaller ship by the hair.

“Gum-Gum —“

“Wait,” Zoro places a hand on Luffy’s arm.

“Huh?”

Zoro frowns, pointing to a spot of white on the railings. Luffy stares down at it for a second before Sanji peers over his shoulder, reaching out to dab at the smear of white powder.

“It’s… rice flour.”

In the kitchen, they find a tray with a series of tiny wagashi mochi’s, simply made, but each perfectly shaped and dusted with a fine powder of sweet rice flour.

There’s a hastily scribbled note that just says — Thank you. I’m sorry.

— — —

It takes them the better part of a two weeks to track you down.

And when they do, it’s to an island of sand and trees and not much else.

“What… is this place?” Nami asks as they all hop onto the bleak little stretch of beach.

“It’s a holding ground,” a voice answers, rich and feminine. They all look up to see a tall figure, arms crossed, a cowboy hat perched atop her head. Her hair looks like it’s been cut with a slide-rule. She makes no move to attack, but Zoro still finds his thumb ticking at the hilt of his sword.

Beside him, Sanji looks conflicted at the thought of fighting such a beautiful woman.

“Miss All Sunday,” Nami says, her bo staff clicking clicking into place as she takes half a step forward.

The woman allows herself a grin, dipping the brim of her hat.

“Ara… if it isn’t the Cat Burglar.”

Nami scoffs, “Let’s cut the song and dance — we’re looking for a friend of ours. You might know her — goes by Miss Double-Nines, I think.”

“Friend?” Miss All Sunday lets the word simmer in the air between them, blithely checking her nails before pinning them all with a hard look, “we at Baroque Works aren’t known for making friends outside the organization.”

“Yeah well, maybe our friend’s just different!” offers Luffy, grinning widely, his chest puffed out.

Miss All Sunday regards them for a moment more before shrugging and slipping into the shadows of the giant tree she’d been leaning against. Zoro and Nami share a look before stepping forward to follow her, Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp half a step behind them.

The forest is a twist of ancient trees, their canopy high and thick enough to completely blot out the sun. Beneath the preternatural dark, the woods are spine-chillingly quiet. There’s no rustle of leaves, no hush of wings or skitter of claws. Nothing moves, save for their slinking guide and their own, weapon-laden bodies.

No one dares to speak; even Luffy keeps quiet, his mouth set in a straight line, his eyes tracking the lithe form of Miss All Sunday as she leads them through the undulating terrain.

“Ah… you’re in luck,” Miss All Sunday says, her voice a silken whisper as she stops in front of a massive tree, it’s roots as thick as the Merry’s main mast, it’s trunk so wide it’s impossible to see around. Miss All Sunday adjusts her hat, sweeping her hand through the air much as a hostess would when presenting a prize, “she’s awake.”

It’s you, or at least the shape of you, caught in the massive tangle of tree roots, your arms held to your sides, your body half-swallowed by the trunk of the tree itself. Your lashes flutter open at the sound of Miss All Sunday’s voice, and when your gaze finally lands on them, it goes wide —

“W-what —”

“We’ve come to rescue you!” Luffy says, grinning even as he revs up his arm.

The cigarette dangling from Sanji’s lips falls he leans back to inspect the grotesque sight before him.

It’s Nami who catches Zoro with an arm around the waist, tugging him back to relative difficulty. It’s only then that Zoro realizes how hard he’s breathing, how there’s red seeping like spilt blood into the edges of his vision.

“I — I told you not to follow me!” you say, your voice cracking over the words, your skin nearly translucent as it strains over your ribs.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Yeah well — we never said we’d listen.”

You drop your head, your throat bobbing around a mirthless laugh.

Everyone jumps at the sound of clapping, loud and slow and measured. A moment later, a man in a fur-lined coat with a thick set of stitches across his face steps out from behind the massive tree, a cigar caught between his teeth, a steely glint to his eyes.

“Well done, well done — if it isn’t the infamous Strawhat Pirates,” the man says, crossing his arms and taking a long puff of the cigar.

Luffy takes a step forward, “We are just here for our friend!”

“Your friend?” the man says, an eerie smile splitting his lips as he takes the cigar between two fingers and glances towards you, “you didn’t tell me you’d made new friends, Miss Double Nines?”

You wince at his words, twisting your head as he blows a stream of smoke at your face.

Zoro jerks forward, only to be caught again — this time by Sanji and Nami both.

“Ah, but this is wonderful! We should give your new friends a proper welcome, no?” the man opens his palms, laughing heartily before the forest around them shudders. And then, everything beneath them turns to sand.

It is not a long fight, and Zoro only remembers it in faint flashes — the base rumble of the earth shifting beneath them, the sky-splitting crack of tree trunks as the forest around them roils and breaks. Through it all, he remembers the sound of your voice, calling out something before it’s muffled by a pair of too-large hands —

And it isn’t till he finds himself standing on the thin stretch of beach with the rest of his crew that his mind returns to him, jarred and unsettled, but lucid.

The man with stitches across his face grins, your body caught beneath his arm like a rag doll. He laughs as he tosses you down onto the sand at this feet.

Both Zoro and Sanji charge forward, only to stop in their steps as the man cocks a gun and levels it at the back of your head. He grins, tilting his head.

“Go on,” he says, “she’s right there, isn’t she?”

Sanji crouches down, his eyes narrowed. Zoro’s jaw clenches as he adjusts his hold on his swords.

You shake your head, your hair a dark spill around your shoulders, peppered with sand as you push yourself up onto hands and knees, your gaze imploring as you look up at them.

“Don’t.”

Zoro feels something inside him snap at the broken register of your voice.

He charges forward just as the man reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair and tug you backwards, pressing the muzzle of the pistol to the side of your head.

“Let her go, and I might let you live,” he snarls between gritted teeth.

The man grins, savage and unbothered, shaking you like a marionette on tender strings. You let out a soft groan as he digs the gun further into your temple.

“Ah… I’m not sure I like being threatened on my own turf,” the man says, his voice soft as he trails the gun along your face down to your throat before pressing it the soft spot just beneath your chin. Your eyes squeeze shut.

“Wait —!” Zoro’s voice cracks like a gunshot over the word, desperation wriggling it’s way up his throat till it’s spilling out of his mouth.

The man’s eyes go dark at the sound, his mouth splits wide on a savage grin as he trails the gun back up to your temple, caressing the trigger with almost lethargic ease, clicks down the safety — and shoots.

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect @lodeddiperrodrick @not-a-glad-gladiator @vinskyspuff @itsagoodluckkiss @blondethinkpink @ellelowthere

pls comment below to be added to the tag list! :)

[wonysugar]

working in retail 101 | ahn yujin

synopsis : what happens when a floor manager flirts with a floor clerk during an accidental, overnight lock-in inside the store? well, not anything professional, that’s for sure.

pairing : clerk!gpyujin x floormanager!femreader

genre : smut, kinda fluff towards the end too? coworkers trope, kinnndaaa boss x employee?? idk but THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE DATING!

tags : so! lot to unpack here lol, superstore au, yes that sitcom netflix show SUE ME, references to the show, you don’t have to watch the show to read this but it’d be better if you knew what i was talking aboutgiejdks, naturally all characters work at cloud 9!girlpenis!yujin, handjobs, teasing, oral sex (yuj receiving), missionary sex, marking up, sub!yujin, she’s hung halp, dom!reader, implied puppy play, jonah!coded yujin, so yes she’s a loser, amy!coded reader, dina!coded gaeul, cheyenne!coded wonyoung, glenn!coded jiwon, although she isn’t really mentioned ueueueue, garrett!coded rei!

warnings : mentions of alcohol!

word count : 5,1k (excluding texting ofc!)

a/n : THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET?? kinda not proofread so sorry for that but HAIII omg okay so this took me such a long while to write i’m SORRYY</333 i started it while i was in the PRIME of my superstore hyperfixation and ??? IT’S SUCH A FUNNY SHOW I DEFINITELY RECOMMEND IT OMG did i mention this was a superstore au— [GUNSHOTS] as for my other drafts, they’re being worked on as we speak!! i really hope you enjoy reading this and thank you for your time! :]

also. IF ANY OTHER SUPERSTORE ENJOYERS ARE READING THIS PLEASEEE INVADE MY INBOX IMMEDIATELY I BEGGG

yujin.

that was all that preoccupied your thoughts, just her stupid face plaguing your mind like it was some sort of virus on a computer.

you needed yujin, there was no way around it. it was impossible to focus on your job when all you could think about was her, you needed her right here and right now.

and that’s exactly what you were gonna get.

after making sure that none of your coworkers were watching you flee the department you were in charge of, you quickly rushed towards the photo lab, or as everybody in the workplace liked to call it, ‘the bang room’. you walked in, slowly closed the door on your way and immediately pulled out your phone, leaning on the table and grinning to yourself as you typed up a text to send her.

running.

..running?

visualizing her just running across the store made you uncontrollably giggle at your screen in amusement.

cute, you thought to yourself. nobody else you knew would go out of their way to run across a department store as an employee to get head, and you’d normally take that text as a hyperbole, but knowing yujin? well, she was known to be very literal in everything she said. if she’d one day tell you that she had bigger fish to fry, that’s probably because she was indeed at home, frying bigger fish on a pan. (and she’d probably even send you pictures of the bigger fish in question, because why wouldn’t she?)

barely 30 seconds had passed after her last message when you turned off your phone, slid it into one of your back pockets and waited patiently. looking around at the familiar environment, you thought of various ways you two could use it this time. on your last encounter with yujin, she laid you down on the same counter that the printer sits on and proceeded to dick you down there! another time, you thought that grabbing the professional camera that’s usually used for passport or id pictures on the metal shelf next to the table and recording yujin as you rode her cock was an amazing idea! and, it was.

so much so that you still have the videos saved onto your phone!

you didn’t know that reminiscing about all of these past occurrences again would worsen your original predicament, but it did; you needed yujin to show up as soon as possible. now more than ever. 

then, suddenly, as if your prayers were magically answered, you heard rapid and loud footsteps outside the lab, followed by a familiar voice exclaiming the words “oh shit—“ before being cut off by the sound of numerous heavy boxes falling on the ground, the thud of that person’s body immediately following. worried, you got up from your seat, the door swinging open before you even had the chance to take a step towards it.

a panting yujin is what greeted you, her chest heaving up and down.

she looked at you, and you looked back at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. her eyes were nervous, darting around occasionally, looking like this was the first time you would’ve ever sucked her dick in the photo lab. 

oh she definitely fell on her way here.

“…hi?” you said, amused by the thought.

“hello!” she responded, still short of breath, smiling stupidly. 

still preoccupied by the alarming amount of boxes toppled over behind her, you tried looking over her shoulder, wanting to confirm your theory. she reacted by immediately leaning onto that side of the door frame, attempting to hide her accident from your curious sight by acting casual. that gesture alone made you especially notice how messy her short hair looked, how the ‘ahn yujin’ name tag she had pinned to her blue cloud 9 vest seemed to be abnormally tilted to the left, as well as… how weirdly scratched her glasses looked..?

it, unfortunately for her, didn’t take long at all for you to connect the dots.

yup. she fell. 

“yujin— did you slip on your way here?”

she immediately started laughing nervously in response, her eyes darting around as she pushed up her glasses and cleared her throat, hand running through her soft short hair, “…what?! noo… who do you think i am? that’d just be clumsy of me..” she kept laughing, that is, until she mumbled under her breath, 

“i did jog a little bit and didn’t seem to notice the wet sign that was on the floor but it’s just a tiny little scratch probably, nothing too bad aha i’ll clean it up later before the other managers sees it— a-anywho!” 

so you were correct in believing her, she did run across the store just to get in here quickly. and, as expected of her clumsy person, she apparently also slipped and fell in the process.

you giggled at her. god, what an idiot, you thought.

your favorite idiot.

“you know you could’ve just walked here, right?” you told her, slowly walking towards her as you cheekily smiled. “we’re not in a rush.”

while you did so, yujin took the opportunity to finally lock the door properly behind her, not even looking back at it. she stared at you, then at your lips, then right back up at your eyes. “well— i did tell gaeul that i was gonna stock up the fridge after cleaning the spilled yogurt..” 

her hand scratched the back of her head nervously, “and.. i-i kind of was in a rush, i mean, you texted me...”

you chuckled, simply thinking that she was being sappy. that is, until she nervously bit her lip and motioned with her eyes for you to look down at her. “i couldn’t have anyone see me like this… so—“

your gaze was met with the incredibly visible hard-on she had. no seriously, it poked right through her denim jeans, anybody with average, functioning eyes could effortlessly see it, especially under the new, very bright lights that were recently installed by the electricians. you scoffed, incredibly amused by the sight, she got a boner from those innocent texts alone? that was a first, no wonder why she looked so keen to get here.

in her defense, it had been a long while since the two of you were last in this room alone. hell, it’d been a long while since the two of you even said actual words to each other, period. you guys aren’t friends or anything, you only ever text her whenever it’s work or sex related and there’s still barely any conversation then, let alone when you spoke to her in person.

therefore, the boner wasn’t completely unexpected, but it was still enough to heavily flatter you. then, you felt your ego get even more stroked when you remembered that… she didn’t know much about you at all, yet she got this worked up over texts like that from you? a simple coworker she knew and fucked from time to time?

i mean, you probably wouldn’t even remember what her last name is without looking at her nametag; in other words, you know absolutely nothing about her either! okay yeah, you know that she would always stumble on her own words when talking to customers, and that she has a tendency to always pick at her nametag that’s on the left side of her vest using her right hand. you also know that she always pushes her glasses up whenever she’s nervous and that she is overall incredibly handsome and that you catch yourself staring at her from any department you’re tasked in managing very often, but apart from that? you truly don’t know much.

she’s nothing more than just an inferior at work, to you. an acquaintance, at most, but that’s about it.

this whole approximately-twice-per-month ‘meet me in the photo lab’ ritual you two have going on wouldn’t have even existed if it wasn’t for that one time that the corporate team accidentally locked all of you in the store for the night. seriously, what else was there to do? every employee there (including yourself) took the opportunity to get drunk out of their minds to pass the time and.. honestly? yujin just looked that good that night. you couldn’t help but feel the desire to drag her to the photo lab and figure out what she tastes like, despite it being strictly forbidden to be having any sort of sexual or romantic relationship with your inferior.

the both of you were anything-but-sober, very hot individuals, and she’d caught your attention for the longest time prior to that moment, too, something stupid was bound to happen in the heat of the moment!

“photo lab, in five.” was what you quietly slurred into her ear that night, holding the biggest, most cliché, red, beer-filled solo cup ever. since the others were too busy drinking and playing ‘never have i ever’ in a certain corner of the store, nobody particularly noticed you two. she, in response, could only turn her head to face you properly with her eyebrows slightly raised, clearly taken aback by your sudden and unexpected boldness, whilst also subconsciously taking in all of your intricate facial features all at once. it’s not like she didn’t know what ‘photo lab’ entailed, everyone that worked at cloud 9 for more than a week did. maybe you were joking, she thought, perhaps you said that just to get a reaction out of her. saying that she was confused in the moment would be a big understatement, especially when she watched you get up from your seat and make your way to the spot in question.

yujin’s not stupid at all, she knew you were drunk as shit, the manner that you stumbled on your words, the way your hand sat on her thigh, the slight tint of blush on your cheeks and nose quickly gave it away. she also figured that it was most probably a very bad idea to actually follow you into that room, considering that you’re her manager, and all..

did she still do it, though? of course, of course she did. because despite everything, despite all of the ‘this is so wrong’ and ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ she managed to get out of her,

she was equally as intoxicated that night, and it’s not like she even had it in her to pass up your invitation whether she was sober or not; as much as yujin tried to remain professional around you and not pursue anything outside of work, she always deemed you as intriguing, and she had thought about you in such a way occasionally. that being said, she was willing to accept the consequences that came with potentially having sex with you that night.

those feelings only got stronger when you eventually showed her what she’d been missing out on for all those months in one singular night. anything she’d have hoped for, you exceeded in.

as it turns out, drunken people don't always make the worst decisions after all! since, yknow.. you haven’t gotten caught by anybody yet, and hopefully never will. the only consequence she really had to deal with afterwards was you contacting her throughout random times of her shifts whenever you felt like sucking dick.

and that’s a perfectly fine outcome for both you and her.

but, that hasn’t happened in a long time, not until now, at least. hence the situation you were both put in now.

“should’ve texted you earlier, by the looks of it, hm?” teasing, you approached her, both of you now face to face. your eyes trained on her crotch, you pressed your palm onto it before looking up at her again. yujin pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose, then looked away from you in response to the intimacy, embarrassed.

you got to properly look at her features again. her eyes were still just as soft and fragile as when you saw them for the first time, staring back into yours with careful anticipation.

“m-maybe..” was what she mumbled under her breath, trying her hardest not to let out an accidental whimper from the slight friction she felt down there (which she failed to do), her thighs slightly clenched together. 

“did anybody see you walk in?” you asked.

“n-no! the only one near was wonyoung, i believe. and she was on her phone, as per usual..” reassured, you giggled at her usual nervousness, then, after keeping your eyes on her nervous lips for a few moments and licking your own in anticipation, you closed the minimal amount of distance between you two and made them meet after what felt like an eternity.

and once you did, she immediately got used to the familiar feeling and melted into the sensation of your embrace.

after such a long time of not being able to touch her like this, you felt like your hands glided on her entire body by themselves, feeling up the curve of her back and waist as you kissed her. she did the same, only this time more eager than your gentle movements, as one of her hands ‘accidentally’ grazed your ass.

one thing about yujin: she will always love your ass.

the only audible thing in the photo lab was her lips intertwining with yours, the kiss was undeniably messy, and while it might’ve been able to be heard from outside, you just couldn’t seem to care; at that moment, you just wanted to feel her body against yours, to pull her in closer than physically even possible. that’s what happens when you don’t get to have each other for a long time, after all.

“i missed you—“ she pulled away for a quick moment and whispered, pouting in a puppyish manner. her arms set around your waist and holding you, her fingers tugged onto your vest in desperation as you kept rubbing your hand on her clothed hard-on. 

“i know you did.” you whispered back, taking the opportunity to delicately unzip her jeans with the same hand you teased her with before going back into the kiss, this time, more longingly than ever. you did want to tell her how much you missed her too, but you refrained from doing so.

you had way better things to waste your time on.

your lips still on hers, she whimpered against the kiss. knowing her, she was wordlessly begging for you to do something about the raging boner you gave her. and knowing yourself, you wouldn’t give into her desires so easily, not until she used her words like a big girl. in other words, you wanted to see how desperate she would get.

smiling to yourself, you slowly slid your hand up from her crotch to her abs, you only kept tracing your finger on them, teasing her further.

“god, please—” her breath hitched, breaking the tense silence, the one that was occasionally filled with the sound of your lips uniting with hers. she whined even more, feeling her hard cock rubbing against the fabric of her already zipped down denim pants.

“please what, baby? you know i can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what it is you want.” you looked up innocently, now staring into her hooded eyes. she, in response, exhaled in anticipation, looking right back at you with her eyebrows slightly upturned. you knew exactly what she wanted, that much is obvious to her.

of course, she knew it wouldn’t be so easy, she knew she needed to work for it.

“i want you to t-touch me..” she desperately bucked her hips into your palm as a pitiful attempt at satisfying her crave for friction. “please..” was what she added afterwards, wearing her trademark puppy eyes whilst she pleaded.

“good girl.” you hummed, already getting familiar with the sound of her begging again. you planted a small kiss onto her lips and another onto her neck before getting down on your knees in front of her.

you looked up at her as you unbuttoned her jeans, your eyes locking with hers whilst you slowly pulled down her pants. once those as well as her boxers were completely off, leaving with nothing but her pretty dick springing up at you, you left lazy kisses all over her lower stomach and sides. 

you kept kissing her all over, giving attention to her inner thighs and hips, purposefully giving attention everywhere except where she specifically asked to be touched, watching out for any kind of reaction from her end.

and when you eventually got what you wanted, oh you were way more than satisfied.

“you’re so m-mean y/n.. please..” yujin whined quietly, too embarrassed to even look you in the eye anymore, hers all glossy with hot, desperate tears threatening to spill if this carried on any further. her dick said all of the words that couldn’t come out of her mouth through its slight movement, twitching and practically throbbing before you, aching to be taken care of.

she needed to feel your warm mouth around her, hell, just feeling the light graze of your touch against her aching cock would be enough; at least, that’s what it felt like, she was sure she’d go insane if you didn’t give her just that. if she could, she’d grab the back of your head and fuck your throat like she likes it, unapologetic and more than ready to make you swallow all of her thick load.

she knew she couldn’t, of course, she was very much aware that she needed permission to remotely even touch you, which, unfortunately for her, just contributed to arousing her even more.

taking pity on her, “i’m sorry for teasing, baby, you’re just so cute when you beg..” you admitted, smiling to yourself and running your hand up and down her thigh, before adding on, “you’ve been so needy, so good for me.. and just for that, i’ll take good care of you now, okay?”

just like that, her eyes were back on yours, this time wider and more excited, it’s like you could see her invisible puppy ears standing up in anticipation. she nodded at your words, her gaze still wet and pathetic with tears. 

it didn’t take long for you to finally wrap your hand around her hard shaft, stroking it up and down ever so slowly, to which the girl whose penis you were jerking off let out a heavy sigh of relief. your thumb brushed the slit of her tip, rubbing all of the precum that came out of it all over the surface of her cock, making her shudder. then, after what felt like an eternity of you teasing her, you eventually took all of her length all at once, holding your hair up. 

“ahh— y/n.. fuck..“ desperate moans escaped yujin’s mouth as you sucked her off, using all of her willpower attempting to not hold up your hair for you and ram herself into your mouth. 

she really wanted to, though, and you know her like you know the back of your hand, so that wasn’t hard to figure out. it’s obvious, especially with how her nails seemed to dig into her own skin due to how desperate she was to touch you. 

you saw that, and took pity on her; gently grabbing one of her hands and putting it on your hair, you nonverbally gave her the desired permission to finally touch you, and to guide your head however she wanted to.

mumbling quiet and desperate ‘thank you’s, she nestled her fingers in between your strands of hair for maximum comfort. unconscious about it, she dug her nails into your scalp slightly. it didn’t take long until she proceeded to finally move your head in a repetitive, back and forth motion.

“y/n..” she groaned after a while of having you suck her off, looking down at you and using all of her willpower to be as quiet as possible, but alas, “i can’t hold it in.. i’m sorry i— i need to cum.. so badly—”

no matter how hard she tried to keep it contained, she simply couldn’t: she moaned, finally shooting her long anticipated load into your throat, the warm and thick substance coating the entirety of the inside of your mouth. 

you weren’t done with her, of course, especially not after that.

now, you weren’t usually one to be into anything considered similar to ‘vanilla sex’, you always liked experimenting and trying different things, especially if it was yujin. however, you felt like keeping it simple today, your only objective being to orgasm from the girl’s, still very hard, cock.

therefore, what better way to do that than some good old missionary on the photo lab table? 

after making out with you and leaving marks all over your neck and visible parts of your collarbone, she ended up on top of your laying body, both your clothing and hers mostly still on. 

being positioned like this was the only time where she felt like she had power over you, and not vice-versa. it was the only time where she felt like she could do anything she wanted to you without any consequences, and she looked forward to it every single time. of course, she still thoroughly enjoys having you order her around, whether it’s for work or not, however, she also liked having a role switch every once in a while.

keeping her balance with one of the hands she has on the table, positioned right next to your head, she proceeded to take off the glasses from her face and set them somewhere near. you quickly stopped her by gently grabbing onto her wrist, which caught her attention. wide-eyed, she asked, “yeah?”

“don’t take them off.”

“...excuse me–”

“keep your stupid glasses on this time,” she was already committed to the action of putting them back on after you indicated that you wanted her to, but you decided to justify further, just for good measure, “i’ve always wondered what’d it look like for you to wear them while you fuck me.” 

and when she thought she couldn’t possibly be any more turned on and eager to fuck you, you proved her wrong with just that small, simple sentence.

she quickly pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose before leaning back into you, kissing you again, this time more eagerly. soon enough, she pulled away and started fucking you with slow, gentle thrusts, listening out for any sounds that came out of your pretty lips, gaze going back and forth between admiring how pleasure quickly contorted your beautiful face and watching how her dick disappeared into you.

the longer that went on, the harder it got to contain the noises that threatened to leave your already agape mouth, especially with how fast yujin’s pace got progressively faster.

“f-fuck yujin..” you whined, watching the girl on top of you lose herself as she thrusted the entirety of her length into your core. she looked at you through the lenses of her glasses as you whimpered sweet praises, leaving hungry, desperate kisses all over your lips, neck and even collarbone, marking you up even more.

soon enough, all of this turned into a constant cycle; all of a sudden, you realized that you wouldn’t actually mind staying that way for hours and hours on end. who knew that yujin could make hooking up on a shift for around the hundredth time still be so fun?

she eventually planted one last kiss on your lips before making you cum, your walls clenching all around her cock, which, of course, turned her on so much that she had to pull out to jerk off and help herself reach her own climax, in one last long moan.

lightheaded from the consecutive orgasms she’s put herself through, she laid there after you thoroughly licked her coated-in-cum dominant hand, as to remove any evidence of you two being ever here. her body rested on yours and her head comfortably nestled in the crook of your neck as she cuddled up to you, enjoying your body warmth. you panted, matching the rhythm of her own breathing, otherwise a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. 

that is, until her phone obnoxiously rang in one of her jean pockets, breaking said silence and catching the both of you by surprise. 

sitting up in a hurry, she quickly digs into said pocket and pulls out her cellular device, wasting no time to look at the caller and straight up just answers it, in case of an emergency. she puts it up to her ear before speaking up, clearly nervous, “..hello?”

silence. you stare at her with anticipation and curiosity, studying her facial expressions and looking out for any hint of bad news. thankfully, that never happened, as her eyes instead lit up in surprise.

“oh! yes, hello..”

“uh huh,” she added, nodding along to the words only she heard from the tiny phone speaker placed against her ear, “4 pm? yes! of course, i-i’ll be there. thank you so much.” 

she quickled fixed her posture and ended the call soon after saying that, turning back at you with a pleased and surprised expression.

“who was that?” you asked, curiosity eating at you.

“target.” she watched as your expression switched to a puzzled one, therefore explained further, “they called me to see if i was free for an interview later.”

“interview?” you repeated, making sure you heard her correctly, she nodded. “you applied to places recently?” is what you added.

she gave you another nod, this time reluctant, fixing her glasses and messy short hair, “i mean, nothing against cloud 9 or anything! i like working here and i love you guys, a lot! i simply just wanted a change of pace, i guess.. p-plus they might not even hire me, it’s not like i was expecting them to even call me back in the first place, so—” 

“hey,” you placed before she could stumble on another one of her words, wearing a sympathetic smile, “don’t worry about ‘not repping’ cloud 9 or whatever, it’s not like you sold your soul to jiwon when coming here. you’ll kill it there!” you joked, before continuing, “plus, you can always come back if things ever don’t work out; whatever happens, i’m rooting for you, we all are.” 

“even if you’re working for the rival company.” were your last words before leaving a kiss on her cheek and standing back up on your two feet, fixing yourself up. the sudden skin contact combined with the banter earned a shy giggle from yujin.

it was somewhat a ridiculous situation, feeling guilty for leaving your coworkers and going for another job, yujin didn’t know why she felt like this over trivial things such as this one. yet, you comforted her, despite how stupid it might seem. it’s only natural since you, out of all people, are the first person to know how much of a nervous wreck she is and how sensitive she always is to this kind of stuff, that was her charm, after all.

she appreciated you way more than she’d like to outwardly admit.

so, while you’re making your way to the door, getting ready to go to the break room to grab your things from your locker and clock out for the day, she calls out to you, “hey, y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you maybe free, afterwards? y-yknow since our shifts both end at 2:30pm i was thinking we could maybe go grab a coffee together before my job interview and stuff but it’s like, totally fine if you already have plans or whatever—“

you smiled, flattered by the invitation. after all, today would mark the last day that you’re considered her ‘superior’, so you found it cute that she’d ask so soon. quite frankly, you were very tempted, this time having no obstacles in your way. who wouldn’t wanna go out on a date with the cute, charming girl who usually works at the dairy section? well, used to.

“sure, i would love tha—“

“ahem ahem.” you were cut off by the staticky sound of the words coming from the intercom, immediately recognizing the familiar and soft-spoken voice of your coworker, rei, “attention, dear shoppers of cloud 9, just a heads up to please proceed to not feel concerned about the following message, as it is destined to our staff, and our staff only, please and thank you. happy shopping!”

you and the puppy-like girl looked at each other in confusion, only to be thrown off guard by the same voice again, this time sounding more impatient. 

“now.. y/n, yujin, i know you can hear me; come out of that damn photo lab before i personally drag you out of there myself oh my god y’all aren’t slick, we all know what you do in there, you’re not fooling anybody. also, what happened to keeping it classy? what happened to doing this at home? not only that but it’s been like— an hour and a customer has been trying to get some passport photos done but you hoes— two, you two have been at it for forever. next time, if you’re gonna do this, make sure to at least keep it short and not have it last a whole decade.” 

then, you heard the intercom turn off.

yujin’s face went completely red as she listened to that, now not at all wanting to walk out of said photo lab. you cleared your throat, your whole body invaded with nothing but embarrassment as uncomfortable silence filled the space between you and the other girl. 

then, once you heard the intercom turn on again, it felt like your worst nightmare coming back to life for round two.

except this time, it didn’t come for you.

“oh and yujin, gaeul wanted me to tell—“ rei’s voice blasted through the speaker again before being obnoxiously interrupted by what sounded like gaeul’s voice, who was audibly angry and annoyed.

“yujin if you don’t get your ass back in the dairy section right now and clean that god damned spilled yogurt i’ll personally make sure that jiwon gets your next paycheck cut off by fifty percent, don’t test me. it reeks, yujin, reeks. oh and as for you, wonyoung, get off that damn phone before i—”

then, the intercom turned off again, which was probably rei’s doing, to both yujin, and probably wonyoung’s relief. 

you simply giggled, watching as she took off her name tag in an embarrassed manner, yknow, as to not be recognized by the customers she’d meet on her way to the row she had to clean. then, you cleared your throat, earning her attention before leaving. 

“meet me outside when you’re done?” you smiled.

she returned that same smile, immediately having forgotten the misery that was waiting for her outside that door, visibly excited.

“yeah, i’ll be there.”

[strawberrytoki]

kairos

Jacaerys Velaryon X reader

summary: You and Jacaerys have yearned for each other for as long as you can remember, but all you could spare one another were lingering glances, hesitant touches, and stolen moments of solitude, all on borrowed time.

warning: slight changes and deviations from the books, implied smut

forbidden love, slight angst.

1 hour.

It had been 60 minutes since you began frantically pacing through the echoing, vacant halls of the castle, not knowing what your next move should be.

This was due to the explosive dispute that ensued earlier within the very walls of the keep that stood atop Dragonstone. Your parents, both proud Velaryons and representatives of the house, were invited by Rhaenyra to further discuss strategies to strengthen her claim to the iron throne. Both your houses were strongly tied by bounds of marriage, and extensive history dating back centuries. There had even been talk about further strengthening the bond both houses shared by betrothing you to Jacaerys, an idea both of you were more than pleased by. However, relations between your houses have been less than sturdy as of late, due to your father discovering Jacaerys' parentage. It was surely the whispers of the court that unveiled the truth, they were hard to silence after all. Your father deemed Jacaerys a bastard with sullied blood, viewed him as someone who'd taint the bloodline with shame, and essentially wanted nothing to do with the house altogether, but war had ways of bending even the strongest of convictions.

Your father decided to put all differences aside in consideration of the imminent threat of war, and accepted Rhaenyra's invitation. She was aware that Corlys was exposed to the truth regarding Jacaerys' father, but decided that she was not going to address the matter if he wasn't, in order to prevent further destabilization within the realm. You were elated when your parents asked you to accompany them, as you were gradually taking on greater responsibilities, and were surely to be asked to weigh-in on their discussions soon. However, that wasn't the only reason you couldn't hold your excitement.

Jacaerys Velaryon was always a constant factor in your life, and denying your feelings for him was simply postponing the inevitable. It wasn't long before you learned that your feelings were reciprocated. That being said, the two of you couldn't come forward with your love just yet, considering that both your families currently had bigger fish to fry with war looming ahead and what not. You were both aware that you'd have to eventually join Rhaenyra's forces as dragonriders and fight for her cause as rightful heir to the throne. Therefore, you both wished to spend as much time in each other's comforting company as you possibly could. Despite your protests, Jacaerys posed the idea of seizing the opportunity of the presence of both your families, and declaring your love before them this day.

As you approached the gate's entrance, you noticed Jacaerys staring at you, with a glint of adoration in his eyes, which you gladly, but subtly returned. After both families were done greeting one another, you entered the chamber, and took your seats around the painted table, where both of you continued your exchange of fleeting glances.

The determined discussions were then paused for a meal, after which you noticed your father call upon Jacaerys for a word, his face a controlled mask of fury. Fearing what was to come, you quietly followed them both, making swift maneuvers to avoid getting caught.

You saw Jacaerys hesitantly follow your father into the Great Hall and quickly made your way to the giant door before it was fully shut, leaving yourself some room for eavesdropping.

"I have always treated you with respect," Lord Corlys began, his voice low but steady. "I have welcomed you into my home as family, as kin. But it seems my respect has been misplaced." Jacaerys frowned, confusion and fear knotting in his chest. "My lord, I don't understand." He did. He understood, and his racing heartbeat and beads of forehead sweat betrayed him. Lord Corlys' eyes mirrored his blazing anger. "Save yourself what little dignity you have left and do not play the fool with me, boy! I know the pitiful truth of your birth and I am certain you do as well. You do not bear Velaryon blood, and most certainly are not suitable for my daughter."

Both the accusation and the denial of your love hung heavy in the air, making it too thick to inhale. Jacaerys was always aware of the rumors and hearsay that circulated regarding his legitimacy, but to be ambushed with it so harshly, so firmly, was a blow he was not prepared for.

"Who told you?" Jacaerys managed to choke out, his facade of confidence slowly crumbling. Lord Corlys condescendingly scoffed. "It matters not, it is true isn't it?"

Jacaerys felt his head spin, and his identity scramble with it. "My mother loved Laenor. He raised me as his own-"

"But he did not father you," Lord Corlys snapped. "And you will not corrupt my bloodline with your tainted heritage." Deciding that you heard more than enough, you stormed in the hall, desperate for your father to bring his verbal assault to a halt.

"Father! Please stop this at once!" Lord Corlys turned to face you, his expression softening slightly. "You deserve better, my daughter. You deserve a true Velaryon, not this pretender."

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked between your father and Jacaerys. "I love him, Father. He was raised as a Velaryon, he knows our ways, is that not enough?"

"It is not." Lord Corlys said firmly, maintaining his stance. "You will not be betrothed to him." Both you and Jacaerys were speechless since your throats tightened with heartache, leaving no room for words.

Jacaerys quickly turned and walked away, his head hanging low, not sparing you a glance. You looked at your father in despair, but he was unmoved. Knowing that your protests would've fallen on deaf ears, you decided to save your breath and go after Jacaerys, whose heart was sure to be in pieces after what transpired.

Ever since both of you were children, Jacaerys loved taking warm baths whenever he was upset, since he felt like they imitated the warmth he lacked at the time. Old habits die hard, so you were more than certain that's what he was about to do.

You were torn between giving him the space he needed and offering him the comfort he surely wished for at the moment, which was why you were pacing back and forth near the entrance of the bathing chamber. Eventually, you decided against your better judgement to enter the chamber, convincing yourself that this was solely to comfort him even though deep down, this was comfort you sought for yourself as well.

You stepped into the dimly-candlelit chamber to find Jacaerys soaking in the warm water, his eyes glazed and his lips slightly pouted. Even in sadness, he was beautiful. His eyes then met yours as you were idle in your spot. The silence was deafening but understandable. Tentatively, you approached the tub, and sat at the edge of it.

"Jacaerys-" You started, but were promptly interrupted by him. "He tells the truth, you know? Lord Corlys." He stated shakingly, his eyes fixed at the rippling water.

You were angry at this sentiment that he held, angry that he thought of himself so lowly, it pained you. "I've heard it all before," He continued. "I didn't wish to believe it at first, but I'd have been a fool not to. I thought it'd sting less with time, but it seems I've been mistaken. I loathe how I can be dismissed with just a word." A pensive, frustrated sigh escaped his lips, and that was when you grabbed his sharp face with both your hands, gently coaxing him out of his worried trance. You carefully caressed his face, not breaking eye contact. "My father is only concerned with titles, with names. You are a dragonrider, and dragon blood courses through your veins. He cannot take that from you."

Much to your delight, his lips curved into a serene smile, and with one hand, he pulled you in for a tender kiss. Unbeknownst to you, he used the other to slyly sneak around your waist and pull you into the tub. The water splashed up around you as you let out a surprised gasp, stifled by Jacaerys' kisses. The comfort of his embrace and the laughter that bubbled up between you two created an atmosphere that enveloped you in its warmth. Your bodies were desperate to be bound, and so you let them. In that stolen moment, you and Jacaerys found solace in each other’s warmth and could not think of anything else that mattered as much.