#if I had to put it in a certain physical aspect I would say it's the eye shape????

[crow-perch]

"It felt like I was being pulled out of him. The painter was losing something as he painted me."

[approx. 21 hours and 30 mins elapsed work time.] I have studied this man's apartment to an absurd degree. It seems like nothing on surface glance, but man does it get dark. humor me as i analyze god's saddest québécois it's over 2k words. i've gotten out of hand with thinking about this dude. help.

Through the combination of the original painting's titles, we can (pardon the pun) paint a picture of the person Frederic may have been before all of this, as if we take Scared's words literally, the Original lost these things when creating his auto-portraits. These were significant enough to be observed by the visitor when he saw his painting for a second time, and thus altered him physically as he went. He may have named them after the experience he had, but the aspect of himself they represent were all part of him prior.

Fear, Divine, Treachery, Confusion, Rage, Agony, Darkness, Blinding Light, and Faceless I will go into what I believe the aspects these portraits "took" from him when being created below, Fear: Scared Fred is the most prominent to me. He's built primarily from the pigment the Original had on his pallet in his sprite. That dreaded sky-blue. I do believe this ties them together fairly heavily, as fear was the first thing he felt when he saw the Visitor, and the fear of what had happened to his friend (?), Fabrice. (I'll get into why I put that question mark there later) leading me to come to the conclusion he was the first one painted. Scared Fred is also the most certain on the others not being the real deal, he also has memories of the Original's childhood to some degree. His unique ability to spread panic to your whole team is something worth mentioning as well. This, in combination with the prescription medication you find in his bathroom, leads me to believe he struggled with Anxiety to at least a semi-significant amount. It was the first instinct his mind goes to, in terms of reacting to things. Scared Fred also exhibits trust issues, and agoraphobia as well. Divine: Godhead's a bit of a strange one. He starts off the encounter by putting on a front, an act, of divinity. Making use of his appearance to try and sway Sam onto his side. Of course, if you show enough disinterest, he simply drops it. He knows he's not real, he remembers being painted pretty vividly, and simply wants to survive the civil war the apartment is engrossed in. Not to mention he believes the Original to be the most dangerous, and yet he can't bring himself to think of killing him, or the others. (I'll bring up the joint smoking w/ a different painting, I haven't forgotten about it.) I believe him to have inherited the Original Frederic's ego, and self-worth. He's confident, in spite of believing himself to be a "gatdamn freak", and fairly laid-back. Also the whole "painting yourself as a god" thing- He believes himself to be the best-looking out of the nine paintings, saying the others just looked like barf in comparison to him. His attacks are also all charm based, swaying your whole time to his side to fight you. Might imply the Original was confident himself, at least about his appearance and art. Enough to play around with acting, and knowing how to work a crowd as well. Would make sense if he were a theater kid as well, honestly.

Treachery: Just how many goddamn paintings are trying to sway you onto their side? How many of them want you to believe that they're the real deal? Toxic's cunning, almost scarily so. He creates an army of paintlings to slow you down, fun accessories to try and prey on your greed as a player, in order to get you to do his bidding, and has learned to split himself into three parts in order to have better odds against you in a fight. He's the painting with the actual plan to kill the rest of the paintings. He's conniving, and yet the venom in his words really ruins the ingredients he's prepped for a terrifying encounter. His temper gets in the way, inviting you to attack him. He doesn't retreat to get another vantage point. He just insults you. He spits insults and poison, throwing out whatever he can to hurt you and your team. I think the original, while being intelligent, let his temper get in the way sometimes. May have goaded people into fights, likely as a defense mechanism when cornered. If you lose control of a situation, some people are willing to do anything to get some shred of it back. Toxic banks on the predictability of the player in order to try and get what he wants. ...There's also the fascination with hats? Maybe he liked accessorizing. I dunno. Confusion: I think we can agree Wriggly's a fun one to talk to. Right out the gate he gives you the major indicator on picking out who the original painter was, putting a heavy emphasis on a red ring. The one you talked to to start of this had a green one- that instantly puts him in the line of suspicion. He's not nearly as good at acting, or coming up with excuses for his appearance like Godhead or Toxic. His way of speaking is almost nonsensical. He struggles to control his volume, hisses at you when attacked, and is quite expressive. (Him being in a fridge is a thing I'll reference later) I'm not sure how this funny guy has a connection to how the Original was before all of this, outside of his whimsy. Frederic does have comic books, video games, and other novelty items scattered about the house. There's a bit of playfulness there. Perhaps it was the confusion about just exactly what was on that canvas.

Rage: Despite the painting's title, Fred who Bites is... honestly a bit tragic. He can't control who he lashes out at, biting anyone who gets close- even himself. He expresses genuine remorse towards anyone caught by the teeth, and wishes he could have a normal life. He wants to get along with the others instead of fighting. If you let yourself die to him, he's devastated. ...He was painted with rage, rather than embodying it. A portrait meant to vent the disparity and decline of quality of the paintings being crafted after viewing the painting of the sky a second time. And I don't think he was painted by the Original because of that. His amorphous, shifting form is more reminiscent of the Faceless painting, and how it turned into the Face Taker. He has a lot of guilt built up, and encourages others to stay away from him. He knows he struggles to not lash out when overwhelmed, and can't control it nearly as much as he wants to. ...Makes you wonder if all of the alcohol and empty bottles around the apartment, as well as the weed, was the original trying to dampen something else. Like how the tranquilizers get Bitey to stop hurting himself and others, to his own relief. Kinda sounds like meltdowns, to me.

Agony: Tumor is a sad case. The embodiment of the pain felt during whatever transformation the Original may have been afflicted with- the agony of the paintings being created. He can't really speak, only writhing in pain. You don't find out much from this, aside from him wishing to be put down. He's surrounded by pain medication, like he tried to take it for himself, but dropped the bottles, and couldn't pick them back up again. Godhead's smoking is also a form of pain medication as well, as he's likely trying to soothe the headache each painting seems to suffer from, and perhaps calm Bites down by proxy, given the short distance between their hiding spots. Did the original suffer from a chronic pain condition? Is that why, if he were to be in on the hivemind, he's so nonplussed about the painting's continued existence? Was he just used to chronic headaches?

Darkness: Shadow's admittedly a bit underdeveloped. He hides in the dark storage, pointedly away from the side room the sky painting is stored in, and lunges out at you when approached. He just doesn't want to be looked at. I could possibly theorize that he was made after Bright, the darkness left behind in the wake of witnessing the Visitor. Or perhaps whoever painted him had begun to see the Shades? I'm unsure. Blinding Light: Another painting that was potentially mimicking the Visitor, like Scared. Bright is empathetic, caring, and altruistic. He suffers with the headaches the others are plagued with, but does not wish harm on them, only to heal. He has quite a bit of knowledge about that, as well. Notably checking for fractures, symptoms of illnesses, and fevers. He's also a bit naive, believing Sam to be wholly friendly, and lamenting about how he doesn't know what he did wrong if you were to attack. This painting's existence is what keeps me from going down the route of "Original Frederic was an asshole", but rather "Original was likely an unintentional asshole". Bright immediately gets chummy with you, offering up whatever he can, simply because he's just friendly like that. Combined with Godhead and Toxic, Original may have genuinely wanted friends, but struggled to keep them, with outbursts like Bitey's hampering him and warding others away. Faceless: Admittedly another one of my favorites. Described by Scared as: "I remember painting one that looked just like the real thing, but without a face." "That one scared me the most. It radiated with malevolence." You never actually confront the real Face-Taker, not how it was originally depicted. It is only after you confront him with the reality that he is not real that he begins to distort, becoming the monster you fight in order to return the Original's face. That anger and resentment he holds for the other paintings- the ones with an actual identity separate from their aspects is something I find to be incredibly compelling. All he is, is the art he spawned from. How bitter would you be, if you were created for no purpose, but were unable to attain one as you are currently? And when he steals the Original's face, all he can do is masquerade to be him. When you're incredibly good at one thing, people tend to tie that very heavily with who you are as a person, intentionally or not. Perhaps the original felt he was nothing without his art, and in creating that impression of a distant Visitor, and the subsequent decline in quality of his work, he felt himself losing who he was, becoming hollow.

Faceless also gives us some very interesting information about another individual we don't recall meeting, at least... not while they were still lucid. Fabrice. Or, as we encounter him- The Rat King. Fabrice and Frederic had at been friends at the very least, having met together for coffee when Frederic had shown him the painting that ultimately unleashed hell for the first floor in it's entirety. It's because of that painting, that so many people were turned into rats as Fabrice's failing mind led him into a vicious, infectious rampage. Now, the Rat King drops three items. The Rusty Crown that lets you talk to rats, a Giant Rat Skull (1/4 chance), and the Filthy Ring (1/32 chance).

How odd, that that is something is so specific a drop for one enemy, at an incredibly low rate. How odd, that one of the major indicators of the "True Frederic's" identity is tied to his ring. It's just about this one's opposite- gold with a red gem, rather than emerald and a tarnished silver-y copper. It's also interesting just how close it is to Faceless' ring as well. Outside of simple game mechanics, why would they paint a ring deliberately incorrect? Perhaps to signify another core part of the Original's identity. Would he tie himself so heavily to this person, that when making a portrait signifying how hollow he felt, that he'd include a nod to the friend he just caused harm?

There's also another nod for just how significant Fabrice was in starting this chain of events. A friend pointed out to me that Wriggly's hiding spot in the fridge was a bit suspect, as none of the other paintings shared a room. The trope of being "stuffed into a fridge" or "fridging" is when a loved one is hurt, killed, maimed, assaulted, or otherwise traumatized in order to motivate another character, or move their plot forward. Do I also mention how bizarrely massive the painting apartment is for one person alone? There's two bedrooms. [And they were roommates!] [Oh my god they were roommates-]

And finally, The Original Frederic. [CW for Mentions of Self-Harm, substance abuse, and suicidal idealation] The man you meet inside the closet is an echo of the person he once was. Having lost so much of himself to his paintings, it's a miracle he's as put-together as he is. Though, I've already discussed just how good he is at putting on an act. He's quite a bit more put together visibly compared to Faceless, as well. Wearing nice clothing, a gold ring with what's likely a ruby on it, clean shoes, with a coordinated color pallet. Although, his face is quite a bit more exhausted looking in comparison to his attire. Somewhat dark circles around his eyes, frazzled hair, an unkempt moustache- Though these might just be attributed to his face being ripped off and maltreated by a painting who wouldn't instinctively know human hygiene. If anything, Faceless might have a more accurate visual of what he was really like on the inside, versus the refined and practiced appearance he may have put on the exterior. Godhead's certainly good enough at seeming like something he's not, and he got that from somewhere. The paintings really didn't treat him kindly as well. Being locked in a closet with only two bottles of turpentine, perhaps in hoping he'd save them the trouble in just using them on himself? Yeesh. But after the frenzied state he'd just been in, after losing someone so close to him by just showing off his own work? I don't think he was doing alright. The scattered bottles of alcohol around the apartment, empty and full, the loaded shotgun found in the room Godhead resides in (Guy has faces on his hands, he can't exactly wield that thing), the spilled prescription medications around Tumor, the fear of the sky and agoraphobia Scared exhibits- In a way, the Original has a few parallels with the (ironically) blank canvas of a protagonist, Sam. Reclusive, having to sell his creations in order to make a living as an alternative form of employment, having some relatively nerdy interests such as collecting retro video games and vintage comics, and both now at their wits end trying to survive the hellscape that's spawned in their absence from the greater world. There's also the connection to Sybil. She mentions remembering conversing with him in the past. Were they acquaintances? Friends? Neighbors just making small talk? Admittedly I hope we can get some more insight on her past relationships to the other residents.

I think I've covered everything I wanted to here? I hope this is coherent as well, put a LOT more time into it this past month compared to my Hellen theory/hcs. So flattered w/ the tags on that y'all are too nice. I'm glad it made sense, I was worried I was rambling incoherently ;-; Thank you for reading! I hope I might be able to look into Henderson's apartment when that's fully implemented, the atmosphere there was INSANELY good on my first playthrough. The Mirrored Apartment + Edwin is also something i'm looking at now with 1.5 officially out :]

[lynxgriffin]

i Don't think the knight is feral at all actually, it knights kris, and holds back on them, it also... And i hate using this word, but it's accurate, it aura farms for literally no reason, susie taunts the knight and tells it that it can't defeat them in the light world, then laughs in her face, just to make a titan to flex, it didn't ANY of that mind you, they made a titan for literally no reason, it didn't do anything, it was just to flex, as if to say: "Hey, maybe i can't defeat you outside of a dark world, but you know what? I CAN JUST MAKE ANOTHER ONE" I think the knight is very aware of what they are doing, i think the reason they aura farm is literally just... Well, if you knew that your actions were predetermined, if you were following some kind of fate, wouldn't you atleast... Want to have some fun with it, if everythings gonna go a certain way anyway, might aswell dick around, pretend to want to kidnap toriel (Despite having no reason to do so), just to piss this lizard girl off, pretend to fight the party for real, despite being able to effortlessly one shot them in an instant, and dodge all of their attacks (they dodged all of susies rude busters in chapter 4, even though they had their back turned to the party and couldn't see them, meaning they could have dodged all of our attacks if they really wanted to) scream and literally put the "roaring" in the "roaring knight", for again, no reason, they don't do it again, it was just to look cool that one time. We also know that the knight holds back on kris, though i don't think them doing damage to kris at all is that weird, considering that dess canonically beat kris over the head so hard with a wiffle bat, that its FUCKING BENT IN HALF in her room in chapter 4, like do you realize how hard she was hitting kris for that bat to be like that? And the dialouge specifically states that "These things make your head hurt", MEANING it wasn't JUST the wiffle bat, she was beating kris over the head with ICE SKATES, and nobody points that out lol, like she's DEFINITLY willing to hurt kris pretty badly. And even then, despite susie being at -999 hp, she was still able to move and grab onto the knights leg, so i don't think dark world damage numbers really mean much in terms of actual damage. Another idea might be that the knight is acting like a traditional cartoon villain, so that the heroes don't question who they are, or what their motivations are, sort of a kayfabe thing going on.

While I don't know if the Knight made the neo fountain and summoned a titan JUST as a flex, (they could have legitimately needed something that was a guaranteed distraction in order to avoid another confrontation with the Fun Gang), I'll still take these points as yes, the Knight is more aware of what they're doing than first thought.

Also, I'm gonna argue against Dess literally beating Kris senseless with a bat and ice skates; I see no reason why Kris would then look up to Dess as much as they did if she was being physically abusive to them! (Also, the bat that's dented can't be a wiffle bat, wiffle bats are hollow and have holes in them precisely to make them safer.) I think the dented-up things in her room are just her being rough when using her things because that's how she was, not because she was attacking Kris with them. Kris getting a headache looking at them mirrors the "you feel a migraine coming on" message from the Knight fight...basically just further connecting the Knight with Dess.

I think the most reasonable explanation could be the "we already know how this is supposed to play out" aspect of the prophecy basically giving the Knight a degree of confidence in what they're doing. It raises questions as to how much she would know about her place in the prophecy and why she's sticking so much to that role, but it's a useful explanation.

[gayspacemonk]

brazilians have spidey sense for other brazilians btw

[otakusheep15]

Leona Kingscholar NS/FW Alphabet

Dedicated to my best friend @cwairedasimp who is absolutely insane about this man. I hope I was able to do him justice.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s definitely cuddly, and he prefers to just stay in bed and rest. That being said, if you needed him to get you anything, he would without question. Leona would also enjoy a bath after, as he loves non-sexual intimacy just as much as sexual intimacy. Once he’s relaxed though, he’s asleep immediately. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On his body, Leona really likes his hair. As lazy as he can seem on occasion, he puts a lot of effort into maintaining his hair. For any lion beastmen, especially men, hair is a source of pride, and he always wants his to be as well-kept as possible. Plus, he knows he has nice hair that attracts people, which is a bonus. On you, he likes your hands. Unlike his, your hands don’t cause destruction. They hold him so gently, almost like he’s made of glass. He’s never been held like that before, and it makes him crumble like the sand he creates with his hands. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums a lot. Like, it’s kind of insane. Unfortunately, Leona doesn’t have the best diet, so the texture and taste can be off putting, but if you complain about it, he’ll try to eat foods that make it better, like pineapple. He prefers to cum inside if you allow him, but he’s fine with cumming on you as well. He just needs his cum to be touching you somehow. It’s like a mark. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Very into scents and sweat. For one, he just thinks you look good when you’re sweaty and panting, especially if you just got done doing some kind of sport or physical labor. Besides that, he has a very strong sense of smell, and your scent is his favorite. If there’s a certain perfume or lotion you wear, he always makes sure you have it in stock. He also likes it when you smell like him, so he’ll constantly lend you his clothes. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced in the slightest. This man is afraid of intimacy and commitment, so he’s never been with anyone before you. Leona will come off as all confident and cocky during your first time, but he’s freaking out internally. He definitely knows enough about sex to make you feel good, but you’re his first time actually being with another person. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two, and they’re both pretty basic. The first one is you on top of him, whether it be normal cowgirl or reverse. He likes to hold onto your hips or thighs while you bounce on top of him, occasionally thrusting up into you to make you falter. The other position is the mating press. He saves this one for when he’s feeling especially possessive or feral. He likes how much power it gives him over you, plus he gets a perfect view of your face. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

This man is so serious. He leaves zero room for being goofy. In general, Leona is normally a rather serious person, and it’s rare for him to crack a joke, and that definitely translates in bed for him. That being said, if you tend to be silly in bed, he wouldn’t mind too much. He probably just wouldn’t join you. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As stated before, Leona is very well-groomed. Despite the laziness he sometimes displays, he likes to take care of himself. He’s not fully shaved or anything, but he keeps himself as trimmed as he can manage. His hair grows fast pretty much everywhere, so it’s constant upkeep for him. And yes, the carpet does match the drapes. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Leona takes a lot of time to warm up to you, even after you’ve had sex a couple of times. At first, he’s quiet and on the rougher side, as he’s afraid of being too soft or getting too intimate. However, once he’s comfortable, he’s very romantic and sweet. He’s still rough if you want him to be, but he’s sweeter about it. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely, if ever, masturbates. Leona doesn’t see the point in masturbation. It doesn’t bring him much pleasure and it just feels like a waste to him. He hates the idea even more after he starts being intimate with you. Now, if he’s ever feeling horny, he’ll just go to you. The only time he masturbates is if you ask him to send you a video of him doing so, in which case he does so happily. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned before, he has a sweat/scent kink. He also has a praise kink, both giving and receiving, as well as a degradation kink, but only giving. He likes the idea of exhibitionism, but he never actually wants to have sex in front of people. He more so likes the idea of showing you off and proving you’re his, which he can do in other ways that don’t involve public indecency. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Leona is basic and just likes his bedroom. It’s a safe space for him where he feels comfortable to let his walls down. It’s also one of the only places he knows you won’t be interrupted. After a couple times, he’ll also start feeling comfortable having sex in your room as well. Besides that, he might occasionally make out with you in a storage closet, but he would be very hesitant to go all the way outside of his or your room. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You initiating. Sometimes, he can get a bit insecure, so having you express your desires for him is a big turn-on. Even if you’re shy about it, you just wanting him does something to his brain. Confidence is another turn-on, but being shy is not a knock against you, as he finds shyness cute as well. He just likes knowing you actually like him and want to be intimate with him. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing. If you’re polyamorus, Leona most likely would not date you. He is possessive, and he’s in constant fear of being in second place. If you ever suggested a threesome or an open relationship, he would be afraid of being replaced. He wants to know that he’s the most important person in your life and that you only want him. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both fairly equally. Giving you head boosts his confidence, as he likes that he’s able to make you feel good. It does take him a bit to figure out exactly what you like, but he’s attentive and can easily pick up on whatever you like or dislike. As for him receiving, he enjoys it a lot. It’s another way to show him you want him and you want to make him feel good. He especially loves it when you directly ask to give him head. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Leona can be both. Most of the time he’s on the rougher side, especially when your relationship first starts. As he settles in and gets more comfortable, he finds himself wanting to be gentler with you. After a while, he’ll start referring to you, asking what kind of pace you’d prefer. If you don’t have a preference, he’ll default to a rougher pace 95% of the time. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dislikes quickies for the most part. Sex is not a casual thing to Leona, and he wants his intimacy with you to be sacred. He likes to take his time with you, building up to your orgasms. A quickie takes all of that care and intimacy away, in his opinion, and he would rather not. If you’re really desperate for a quickie, he’d be willing to give you head or use his fingers on you, but he wouldn’t go much farther than that. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Leona is down to experiment. You’re his first experience with sex in general, so he’s basically a fresh slate. If you’re more experienced than he is, he’s more than happy to try out your kinks and see what he likes. If you’re inexperienced like he is, he’s more than willing to try anything you’re interested in. He definitely won’t like everything you try out, but he could never say no to you. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It depends on the day for him. Sometimes, when he’s having one of his down days, he can only go for one round - maybe two if you’re on top. Otherwise, if he’s in a better mood, he’s got plenty of stamina. He’s an athlete in great shape, so you know he has plenty of stamina to spare. He can go for hours without stopping if you let him. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

Leona does not like toys very much. It’s mostly a pride thing, as he doesn’t want to have to rely on a toy to please you when he knows he can on his own. That being said, if you have a specific toy you’re into or want to try, he’d begrudgingly try it out with you. The closest he might get to actually enjoying toys is using ropes/silk/ribbons for tying you or himself up. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The BIGGEST tease you’ll ever meet. He loves to rile you up and leave you on the edge. He’ll always let you orgasm eventually, but it takes him forever to do so. He loves you a lot, but he also expresses his love through teasing. Even before sex, he’ll be all over you - holding your waist, sliding his hand up your thigh, whispering all of his dirty thoughts in your ear - anything to get you to react. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s on the quieter side. Lots of grunting and small moans, but nothing louder than that. Leona isn’t much of a talker either, but he’ll speak up more if you mention you like it. It’s not that he’s being quiet on purpose; he’s just not very loud in general, and that follows him into the bedroom. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

My headcanon is that I am a transfem butch Leona truther. I love the idea of transfem Leona. I don’t exactly remember where I first found the headcanon, but it was either here on Tumblr or on ao3. It helps that I’m also trans, so I headcanon most of my faves as trans. I also believe that beastmen have genitalia that match their animal counterparts similarly to their ears and tails, but since not everyone agrees with that, I’ll just leave that headcanon here. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Muscular from working out and playing sports. Lots of calluses, especially on his hands. A lot of scars as well, also mostly from minor sports injuries. He’s hairy, as most lion beastmen and women are. He does his best to keep it neat and clean, but his hair does grow fast. His dick is larger than average, both in length and thickness. It’s veiny too, and uncut as well. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before dating you, his sex drive is in the negatives. He rarely thinks about sex, and even when he does, he has no desire for it. However, after he starts dating you and being intimate with you, his libido skyrockets. Ideally, he likes to have sex with you once or twice a week, sometimes more depending on his mood. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very quickly. Despite the high amount of stamina, he falls asleep quick. As stated before, he will be more than happy to run you a bath or grab you a snack after sex, but his favorite thing is to just flop next to you and cuddle until he falls asleep.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 4

Summary: “Y/N and Harry both attend Sophie’s party, and it doesn’t exactly pan out how Y/N thought it would.”

Wc: 5.6k

Tropes: boxer!harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: physical violence, verbal threats, angst, mention of SA, fluff, jealousy.

A/N: tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACCCKKK!!!! Hi guys, thank you for being so patient. I was literally unable to write for weeks and they were the worst weeks of my life, but I’m finally doing better and my creative juices are flowing! Pray with me that it’ll last🙏

Also THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD sorry I was just too excited to get this out🤭😋

P.S. I recommend you listen to ‘Ice Cream Man’ by RAYE. Not only does it apply to the sorry (warning: SA) but RAYE is also an incredible artist!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N had never observed herself in the mirror for this long. She was certain that at one point she was going to start to look disfigured to herself, but she just needed to make sure that everything was right.

During her childhood, and especially her adolescent years, Y/N had always been told not to be too vain, but to always look good. There were contradictory balances that she's had to sit in the middle of for as long as she could remember, and she was good at it, until tonight.

For some reason, this burgundy dress she was wearing had to be matched perfectly with her shoes, bag and make-up, and right now she was absolutely sure that it didn't.

Instead of throwing her blow dryer at the mirror like she wanted to, Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping her mind would occupy her with a distraction good enough to give a refreshed perspective when she'd open her eyes again. Of course it was him that flashed through her mind the second her eyelids fluttered shut. She should not have been surprised, because wasn't that what this was all about?

Y/N hadn't been able to stop thinking about Harry since... well, actually she couldn't exactly remember since when because that's how long he's been floating around her head for. Seeing him multiple times a week wasn't helping much either, it gave her new material to think about whenever she had a second to spare. It was like a disease, spreading through her entire body, except she didn't mind and the symptoms made her feel more alive than ever.

Just the sole touch of fingers on her waist, or shoulders was worth replaying a million times in her head, as were all the times he'd say something that could even remotely be said in another, less appropriate context. Y/N felt like she had to visit a confessional or something, because it was getting out of hand. But she knew this wasn't bad, and the only thing she was doing by fighting this was stopping herself from getting something she—deep down—felt she didn't deserve.

Despite these pitiful revelations, Y/N still found herself nitpicking at every single aspect of her appearance as she got ready for Sophie's birthday party.

With only five minutes on the clock until her Uber driver would be outside, Y/N decided to accept the black heels she'd put on and the small shoulder bag she'd settled on. A final look in the mirror indeed gave her an epiphany: brown lip liner.

After darkening her lips with the pencil, at last it felt like everything had fallen into place— with the exception of the nerves dwarreling around her lower stomach of course. Even as she sat in the Uber with the nice woman who was talking about her kids as she drove her to the party didn't do one thing to take her mind off the excitement she was feeling.

Y/N tipped her driver before she got out of the car and made her way inside, where she was greeted by an elated—and perhaps already slightly intoxicated—Sophie. The long, dark green dress she wore complimented the blonde shade of her hair, and her make-up was out of this world. Y/N made sure to note that when she congratulated her friend.

It only took five seconds of scanning the room before she spotted him, standing by the bar as he—Y/N could only assume—waited to be served his drink. It felt much like being a magnet to a whiteboard, the way she was so drawn to him. Y/N knew she should've considered herself lucky that another couple came into greeting Sophie, because otherwise she wouldn't have been let off the hook so easily, but that gratefulness was far down on the list of things that took up her thoughts as she made her way to the man at the bar. And when he turned around, she may as well have punched herself then and there, because Harry looked breathtaking.

He always did, of course, but seeing him in a dark grey suit with a soft pink dress shirt, his hair pushed back and all clean shaven... it did something to her.

From the looks of it, Y/N took the guess that her appearance also threw Harry off in some kind of way, since the stutter in his greeting was too apparent to ignore.

"H— hi." He said, mouth slightly agape as his widened eyes took in Y/N. "You look beautiful."

She could have sworn her intestines were being swapped all around inside her because those nerves in her stomach tripled in size as she eyed the floor for a second while heat rose to her cheeks. Y/N had never been good at receiving compliments, mostly because she had been taught that not immediately accepting them was the only way to be worthy of them. Besides, it would make her conceited and rude to just agree.

And yet, all those rules on how to behave flew out the window the second those green eyes were on her, and she didn't care that she jeopardized her worthiness. She just wanted to soak in the words he deliberately told her, and feel good about them. So she didn't argue him on anything, and instead responded:

"Thank you. You clean up good yourself."

The lopsided smirk on Harry's face made Y/N want to jump up and down, for no other reason than that the sight of it just made her really happy. And for a moment she wondered if it couldn't just stay like this forever? Pure, sincere, and not strong enough to be soul crushingly destroyed by anyone, including her own self sabotaging tendencies.

"Oh, this old thing? Just threw it on." Harry shrugged, his eyes fixated on Y/N. She laughed at his ridiculous attempt to be cool. He leaned against the bar, his head tilting a bit. "What are you having?"

His head nodded towards the bar, and Y/N took it as an invitation to get closer to Harry. She stood next to him, just a little closer than necessary, as she hummed and thought about the hundreds of drinks she could possibly order, and totally didn't settle on the same one she always gets.

"I think I'm going to get a cosmopolitan." She answered, and surprised her smile as much as she could as she watched Harry flag down the waiter and order the drink for her. She quite liked this gentleman-like treatment.

"Very fitting, angel." He said lowly as the waiter put down the drink in front of her.

Y/N turned her head to him, a raised brow challenging him slightly. "And why is that?"

Harry moved to lean his entire back against the bar instead of just one side, and shrugged his shoulders as he observed the room before locking his eyes onto her again.

"Because you're just as sweet as that cocktail." The grin that his comment was accompanied by would have been enough to make Y/N's knees buckle right then and there, but the fact that she was holding onto a bar helped a great deal.

The sight of Oscar talking to some other colleagues of hers also helped with that. She could quite literally feel the color drain from her face as she took him in.

It wasn't like it was unexpected; she knew there was a big chance he'd be there. But between Harry, the amount of work she had to do, and all of her self-defense training, she hadn't had much time to think about hypothetical confrontations with Oscar.

"Are you okay?" Harry's gaze darted from the direction in which you were staring back to Y/N. Only when her eyes settled on him again, a part of the worry in his eyes slightly faded. She mustered a smile, nodding her head and hoping it would be enough to convince him. From the look on his face she knew that he wasn't convinced in even the slightest, but she was surprised to hear him switch the topic of the conversation.

"I want you to meet Greg." He said, and Y/N hummed in agreement, grabbing her glasses and following as Harry lead them to her colleague's boyfriend.

"I've already met Greg." She noted, still walking closely next to Harry, whose hand was ghosting over the small of her back.

"Yeah, but I want you to meet him as my best friend."

Y/N was sure that whatever was rattling in her stomach was doing cartwheels as she took in the determination on Harry's face. It didn't seem like he was shying away from what he was implying, and yet she wasn't certain. Because what if he didn't mean it like that at all? Y/N needed to be 100% sure that her suspicions were correct, because the weight of the humiliation that hung over the risk she could take was too great to bear. Besides, she didn't want to jeopardize the self-defense classes. It was a place of safety for her now, she couldn't lose it.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it given that she found herself in front of Greg. Quickly shoving her thoughts away, she conjured a smile and gave the man in front of her a hug.

"How have you been?" Greg asked, grinning widely as he waited on an answer. "Heard you've been taking self-defense classes."

The way he eyed his friend, and the manner in which Harry's eyes glared at Greg, caused a wave of of giddiness to flood over her. This had to mean something, right? Or was she just fishing now?

"Uh, yes, I have. It has helped me a lot." She  answered with rosy cheeks. Greg nodded his head.

"That's great, Y/N. I mean, Harold here is a great teacher, isn't he?"

She snickered, turning to Harry. "That's your full name?"

"No, Greg just likes to be an asshole from time to time." The agonizing smile on his face told her that Harry was a bit on edge, nervous almost? Y/N focused on Greg again.

"Yes, he's amazing." She said, and could feel the blood rush to her ears as she took in her own words. Instead of throwing out a bunch of excuses and rectifications on the construction of her sentence, she zipped her mouth shut, and let the compliment hang in the air. Her heart was racing, and she didn't dare look Harry in the eye, but from the small glance that Greg threw his way, she knew that he'd had some sort of reaction to the compliment.

"Well, stick around and soon you'll be strong enough to take out any man. My Sophie could knock me the fuck out of she needed to, and I'm glad she can." Greg beamed as he mentioned his girlfriend. Y/N was filled with a warm feeling in her chest as she observed Sophie's boyfriend. Her friend was a boss of a woman and to know she was getting the love she deserved was most heartwarming.

The moment was cut short, though, when another person entered the conversation. 

"Harry Styles?!" A joyous shriek—for lack of a more polite word—came from a short blonde woman to Y/N's left. The woman didn't pay any mind to Greg nor her as she headed for Harry, giving him a long, very very long hug. Y/N swallowed.

"Lindsay, I haven't seen you in ages." Harry's voice was kind, he sounded excited even. Maybe it was an old friend, or classmate, or—

"That's because the last time you saw me you broke my heart, hon." She giggled. Harry's brows raised ever so slightly.

An old girlfriend. Right, Y/N should've known that. That just made this entire situation a whole lot more awkward, and if there was one thing Y/N didn't care for it was unpleasantries like these.

So, she decided to do the one thing she was best at: escape. Downing her drink in one go, she wiggled her glass, catching Harry's attention.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom and then get another drink, see you later." Y/N's smile was sweet and full of sincerity, but her legs were heavy as she made her way to the bathroom, as if carrying an invisible ball and chain around each leg. She didn't want to be away from Harry, she wanted to snarl at that ex-girlfriend of his and tell her to back off.

But it was irrational and petty, and not to mention totally inappropriate, so she distanced herself instead. Y/N felt a headache looming, her body fighting her mind for the cowardly attitude it encouraged. She spent way longer in the bathroom than she needed to, eventually only going back after a minute long silent peptalk that she performed to herself in the mirror.

When she returned to the room she saw Harry still talking to his ex, only Greg had now left them and was dancing with Sophie and some others. Y/N thought over her options, and decided to join her friend.

She tried her hardest not to look for Harry in the crowded room, letting the music capture all of her attention. Sophie and Greg were performing all kinds of dance moves that had Y/N throw her head back in laughter, and in that moment everything felt so good.

Simple and good, that was joy. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.

After countless of songs and dance battles on the lit up floor, Y/N decided to take a break and treat herself to another drink. Sauntering over to the bar, she waited her turn order another cosmopolitan, and took a step to the side to let other people order as well.

Y/N was still looking at her fidgeting hands, lost in deep thought, when a familiar scent roamed through her nostrils and stiffened her entire body.

"A Long Island ice tea, please." Oscar's voice sounded from beside her. Y/N didn't dare to look up and stayed focused on her hands instead. She could see his hands from the corner of her eyes, they were desperately clamping onto the bar, knuckles  white.

Without even touching her, Oscar had managed to put a tightening strain on Y/N's chest that felt too uncomfortable to make her move. She was glad to see her cosmopolitan arrive, and was quick to move to the other side of the bar. In the quick second that she glanced at Oscar, she noticed his eyes were following her.

When he started moving closer to where Y/N was standing, the tenseness in her body began to develop into a full-blown panic, and when a set of hands settled on her waist, she couldn't help the hasty gasp that left her mouth before she turned around.

Harry looked surprised when she met his eyes, and she let out a sigh of relief to see that it was only him. Y/N let out a breathy chuckle as she slowly shook her head.

"Gosh, you scared me." It was noticeable in the strain of her voice that the stress hadn't left her body entirely, and Harry seemed to notice that. He raised a brow.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded eagerly, not wanting to steer the conversation this way. "'M fine. What about you?"

"Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed." Harry admitted, and Y/N frowned at the confession. Her head tilted, she asked:

"Why?"

"You told me I wasn't going to get rid of you so easily the other day." He noted, the memory of your conversation brought a smile to your face. "And yet I lost you after about ten minutes."

Y/N chuckled. "I was giving you some space. I didn't want to be rude."

"Angel... in any case, when it comes to Lindsay Holloway, please be rude." The sincerity in Harry's voice made her burst out into giggle.

"I take it you weren't planning on rekindling old flames then." Y/N said, and when Harry confirmed it with a firm nod, she grimaced. "And here I thought I was being a good sport, leaving you alone with her."

"Trust me, angel. She is not the woman I would like be alone with." He leaned forward, his face way too close to Y/N for her to function normally because of it. The overwhelming urge to just— kiss him was almost too great to resist. The way his eyes took her in was so exhilarating, and it didn't make her insecure because she didn't need wonder what he was thinking; it was written all over his face.

"Oh." Was the only sound that Y/N could utter as she processed Harry's words. His eyes flicked from hers to her mouth as he softly pushed her back against the bar, grinning at how her doe-like eyes were observing his every move.

"Aren't you going to ask me who I would like to be alone with?" Harry asked, and it was clear that he was taunting her. But it didn't occur to Y/N to mind, as she immediately obeyed him.

"Who would you like to be alone with, Harry?" She posed the question, watching his jaw clench at his name falling from her lips.

"Y/N!"

Both Y/N and Harry's head whipped to the side where Sophie was standing with a slightly distressed look on her face. Almost out of instinct, it seemed, Harry took a step back. A pang boomed through Y/N's chest.

"I need to talk to you, now." She demanded, not even a hint of a questioning tone in her voice. She meant business. Y/N nodded and slid past Harry, grabbing Sophie's hand and letting her friend lead the both of them outside.

There were some other people outside, smoking cigarettes as they chatted with each other. Every person stopped to greet Sophie with a smile or another 'congratulations' as they walked more towards the alley, where there were less people. Y/N's heart was racing from both the encounter with Harry and the nervousness that had built up thinking of the possible ways that this talk with Sophie could go.

She hadn't expected Sophie to start squealing in excitement, but it was better than anything she could've imagined.

"Oh my god! You and Harry?! For how long has this been going on?" She asked, and Y/N swiftly shook her head.

"There is nothing going on." She replied, the monotony in her voice doing little to hide the frustrations about the truth of that sentence. "I mean, there might have been a start of something going on before we went outside."

Sophie winced. "I'm sorry, I cockblocked you. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't seem like someone who is into casual hook-ups."

Y/N's face twisted in discomfort, and Sophie panicked at the sight of it.

"Not that Harry only does hook-ups! I didn't mean it like that. I just— I hadn't heard you mention him before and I didn't realize you were so close until last week." She instantly began to rant, and Y/N grew defense from her words.

"He offered me some extra training to build more muscle." She shrugged.

“Hmm, sure he is.” Sophie hummed playfully, wiggling her eyebrows and causing a snort to fall from Y/N’s lips. It took a few moments to control their schoolgirl-like giggles, but when they’d managed to pipe down, Sophie’s face turned a bit more serious.

“I just wanted to assure you that Harry is a good guy. You can trust him, you don’t have to hold yourself back.” Her eyes were soft as Sophie spoke, both her hands wrapped around Y/N’s right one. There was a stinging sensation in Y/N’s chest at the mention of the tendencies she thought she concealed quite well, but she was far from offended by it. On the contrary; she was relieved that Sophie could see right through her regarding this topic, because without this confirmation, Y/N would’ve doubted this situation for too long, probably causing Harry to grow bored and leave.

“Soph, we’ve been looking all over for you! We need to do the Photo Booth!” Stacy, another lawyer from the firm suddenly appeared and interrupted the conversation, shrieking in excitement as she hurried over to Sophie and grabbed her arm. She barely paid any mind to Y/N, at least not until Sophie gave her a guilty glance. Stacy conjured a confused smile of her own, her mind clearly battling about the fact that she seemed to recognize Y/N, only she had no idea where from.

“I’m going to borrow her for a little while.” She said, and it was only now that Y/N realized how nasal this Stacy sounded. Sophie had complained about it a dozen times, and now she finally understood the issue.

“Go ahead, have fun, I’ll find you later Soph.” Y/N said, smiling as she watched Stacy and Sophie walk back inside. She took the moment alone outside as an opportunity to clear her mind. To assure herself, that she had the confirmation that Harry liked her as well, and to just take the leap.

“Cigarette?”

Y/N’s head snapped towards Oscar, who was standing only standing a few feet away from her. She glanced at the other people smoking outside; at least she wasn’t alone. She turned her attention back to Oscar, and shook her head.

It stayed silent between the two, and since Y/N didn’t want anything to do with Oscar, she slowly started to walk away. But then, a sentence left Oscar’s mouth that had her frozen where she stood.

“Are you going to accuse him of assaulting you too?”

Y/N lost her breath. Did he really just say that? She pressed down the immense wave of nausea that threatened her to puke all over her pretty dress, and focused on her breathing before she turned around to face him.

“What did you just say to me?” Her tone was sharp, laced with a feeling of injustice. She tried to steady herself as much as she could, but she could feel her hands trembling from the adrenaline.

“I should probably warn him. Who knows what you’ll do to his life.” He sneered, his tone smothered in resentment. Y/N hadn’t even told anyone about what Oscar had done to her, and here he was, accusing her of ruining people’s lives.

“You need to leave me alone…” She growled, balling up her fists to channel her frustration into anything else than the wall or his face.

“Or what? You’re going to tell on me? Seriously, you don’t think that two men with a stellar reputation would make for a more believable story than a self-pitying gold digger?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“What? Mad I’m right? You do only target successful men right, don’t you?” He asked. The amusement in his eyes was disgusting and it made Y/N take a step back. She was seething with rage over Oscar’s words.

“Stay the hell away from me, Oscar.” Y/N fumed, turning around to walk inside, and when she felt a hand around her wrist, she couldn’t help the instinct that caused her to plant her fist in Oscar’s face. Just the way she had been taught.

It was with way more force than she’d ever managed to do before, and she was pretty sure she heard something crack—although she couldn’t make out whether that was Oscar’s nose or his knees as he fell to the ground.

It was like she could finally breathe, seeing him lay on the floor, groaning in pain. She’d been strong enough to defend herself from danger. Pride filled her chest, although it was vague in comparison to the rage that had overtaken the rest of her body.

Y/N flinched when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, but calmed down at the sight of Lindsay, Harry’s old girlfriend, standing beside her. She looked quite worried as Y/N let her guide her to the rest of the people who were still smoking outside. They all began to ask variations of the same questions: ‘are you okay?’ ‘Did he hurt you?’. Y/N frowned upon noticing Lindsay hurry back inside, but she didn’t pay much mind to it anymore when the guy next to her offered a cigarette. She shook her head, a bit taken aback by the timing of the action, and was just about to answer the question of the woman in front of her, when the huddled up group opened up and Harry appeared in front of her.

Crouching down, his eyes roamed over her entire body before settling on her knuckles that had already begun to turn red. His gaze met Y/N’s.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

It only then occurred to Y/N that Oscar was probably still laying there, and the quick glance she shot to her left was enough for Harry to know what was going on. He stood up and walked over to Oscar, who had gotten up himself and met him in the middle.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Harry asked. His voice was stone cold, everything about him was, actually. Not one hint of emotion could be traced in his tone, posture or really anything else. It would’ve been scary, had Y/N had the ability to feel scared of Harry. But she just couldn’t; he made her feel safe.

“Listen man, you need to avoid that girl. She’s fucking crazy. She already tried to ruin my life, don’t let her threaten you to ruin yours.”

All the pent up anger that had seemed to subside slightly once having socked Oscar in the face raced back all at once as the words registered in Y/N’s brain. But before she could get back up to her feet, Harry struck a punch, bringing Oscar to the ground once again.

Leaning forward, he grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up far enough so he could hear him when he said:

“If I ever hear you talking about her like that— better yet, if you come near her again I swear to god I’ll kick out every last one of your teeth… to start with.” Harry warned before letting go of Oscar’s collar with a shove that made a couple of people take a physical step back, and even made one person behind her gasp. Harry didn’t seem to care about any of that as he turned around; he just headed straight for Y/N.

Nor did he didn’t even so much as acknowledge Lindsay, who thanked him, but Y/N made sure to send a grateful smile her way as Harry wrapped his arm around her and led her inside. He didn’t say a word as they entered the room again and walked towards Sophie and Greg.

At first, Sophie was smiling at the sight of Y/N and Harry, but upon spotting her friend’s pale face, the corners of her mouth lowered into a thin line.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her hands were on Y/N immediately, fixing her hair and brushing her fingers against her pale cheek. Y/N knew that she probably looked like she had seen a ghost.

“I’m going to take her home.” Harry announced, and relief washed over Y/N because she didn’t really know what to say right now. Faking a smile, she tried to assure Sophie that it was alright, but her friend was already nodding before Harry had finished speaking.

Throwing her arms around her, Sophie hugged Y/N so tightly that she nearly lost her breath. When she finally let go, the look on her face was determined.

“I love you, have a good night. If you need anything, call me.” She said. Y/N nodded.

“I love you, have a great night.” She turned to Greg. “Watch her.”

The weak joke still managed to make the couple chuckle—probably out of pity—and Greg nodded dutifully, wishing her a good night with that playful wink of his. When Y/N turned back to Harry, he held out her jacket. Her face settled into a confused frown; how did he manage to get their coats so quickly. Was he a wizard or something?

Harry bid the couple farewell as well and soon they were on their way back to the car. Y/N was tense about going outside again, but her shoulders relaxed upon seeing an empty street. Oscar had left, thank god.

The car ride was mostly silent, aside from a few questions about the AC, and an attempt of Harry’s to casually ask for her address again, only to have it at the top of his search list on Google Maps. Y/N had to hold back her giggle.

The rest of it consisted of listening and moving their heads along to whatever song was on. It was mainly rap songs, and Harry knew them all, which was logical considering it was his playlist. There was something attractive about Harry knowing all these songs, it made him look a bit more… intimidating.

Y/N really needed to figure out what deep rooted issue caused her to like that.

She had to admit she was slightly disappointed when he pulled up in front of her apartment complex, so she took her time to turn her head to him, the hint of a smile on her face still. Y/N couldn’t help it; he just made her comfortable. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned towards the middle of the vehicle, closer to Harry.

“Thank you, for dropping me off.” She said in a near whisper. The corners of Harry’s mouth tugged up, and he—in turn—closed the distance between even more, their faces only a few inches apart now. Y/N’s hands began to sweat.

“Anything for you, angel.” His voice was raspy, and despite the cockiness he radiated, there was still concern behind it.

But it was over— for Y/N it was over. Her self-control, an entity of its own, seemed to exit her body leaving her with nothing but him. All that adrenaline had channeled into a pressing urge to put her lips on his, to touch him, feel him all around. It was over.

Nothing held her back, not even her own stubborn mind, as she leaped forward and kissed Harry.

While she had expected him to maybe be surprised about her action, the way his mouth welcomed her—invited her, even—was enough proof that he had been ready for her.

Kissing Harry was like jumping off a cliff and diving deeper into the ocean. For once, she didn’t feel like to love was to drown. No, she submerged herself into the water and felt more at home than she had ever felt at the surface. Was it possible to feel at home in someone’s arms?

With a hand on her jaw, Harry lured Y/N forward further, challenging her by pulling back a bit. Needing his lips like it was her own source of oxygen, Y/N didn’t hesitate to lean further, and in all her desperation, climbed right onto his lap.

The short dress didn’t leave much restrictions for her heat as she automatically began to grind her hips. Only when Harry let out a pained groan that shot straight to her core, she’d realized what she was doing— what they were doing.

Pulling away in a flash, a gasp left Y/N. Her lips felt all puffy, much like Harry’s looked.

“S— sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.” Y/N shot in her defensive mode, but Harry only shook his head.

“Don’t say sorry, angel. I—” he cut himself off, and met her eyes. “I don’t think we should do this right now, because—”

Shit, no, shit, shit!

“Oh, yeah, no of course, no problem. I mean, you’re right.” Y/N began to rant, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How could she ever do such a stupid thing. She was quick to lean over and grab her bag. “But thank you, for bringing me home, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Before Harry could even get a word in, she opened the door on the driver’s seat and climbed out of the car, smashing the door shut harsher than she intended to. She winced at the sound, but kept walking. This rejection was humiliating enough as it was, she didn’t need Harry to elaborate on all the reasons he didn’t want her.

She heard the car door open, but by then, Y/N had already entered her building. In the chaos of it all, she decided to sprint up the stairs, wanting to get away from the situation as fast as possible, and in that process forgetting that she lived on the sixth floor.

She was out of breath when she finally reached her apartment, but not as out of breath as she would have been a month ago. Damn Harry, those classes were really working.

Once inside, Y/N leaned against the door, dramatically letting herself slip to the ground as she buried her head in her arms and let out a frustrated groan. Why was every next step she took on the aspect of love always destined to be her most embarrassing one yet?

She huffed, massaging her temples as she soaked in the shame and slowly felt it wither away. She knew the mortification would wane, but the sudden awareness of that ache between her legs, she knew that wouldn’t just go away. With a sigh, Y/N hoisted herself up and got ready for bed before lying down and digging into her nightstand’s drawer to grab the only thing that could cure the ache down there.

Her racing mind was a reminder that getting this out of her system wasn’t going to be done very easily…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @kierramcduffie

[sugurusfavemonkey]

say you'll be my darlin' - kento nanami (1/2)

mosaic ceilings, painted tiles on the wall i can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul handmade beauty sealed up by two man-made walls when's it gonna be my turn?

valentine's day special summary: you've never had a valentine, but kento intends to change that part 2

Some may say Kento Nanami is a reserved man, perhaps even aloof. Both sentiments are easily endorsed due to his unwavering straightforwardness and tendency to avoid certain impracticalities. And still, his detachment and bluntness weren't nearly enough to stop him from falling.

He tried, he really did, to keep his emotions in check: compartmentalized and separated from his work life, but nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that you brought forward within him. When it came to you, that task was easier said than done.

You were never put off by his stoicism, quite the opposite. You saw his bluntness as honesty and his sobriety as a virtue. Never mind the fact that you found his candor amusing more often than not: his sarcasm easily brought laughter out of you, a chuckle when you were accompanied by others, or sometimes giggles you would try to hide behind your hand. Nanami found each of your reactions charming and if you saw the corner of his own lips lift into a subtle smile and his eyes soften behind the lenses of his glasses as he stored the image as a souvenir in his brain? No, you didn't.

Where typically Nanami would have no problem focusing wholly on his work, a small portion of his brain was constantly thinking back to you. How you've managed to steal all that space and become permanently etched onto his normally single-minded psyche no one could tell.

It didn't help that his infatuation had taken a more physical turn as of late. The curve of your smile, the way your nimble fingers played with the cuff of your shirt, the glow in your eyes... Every aspect of you had Nanami completely enraptured. He had to restrain himself, honeyed eyes ensnared to your every move, hands aching to feel your skin, arms yearning to hold you, desire burning like molten lava through his veins.

There was no denying it, Kento Nanami was completely and utterly in love with you. Now, if only admitting that was as easy as it had been falling. Instead, words failed him for your presence had him feeling like a teenager who had to hide under a thick fringe of hair all over again.

The opportunity to finally confess his devotion (or at least an idea of how to shape the admission) arose on a particularly slow Wednesday.

One of the perks of having his eyes constantly seeking you out was recognizing the faintest changes to your demeanor. Nanami immediately noticed how your posture sagged slightly, the furrow in between your brows, your frequent sighs, the mug of coffee left untouched slowly going cold, even the way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes that morning. It bothered him profusely to know something was causing you torment to an extent his own mood was diminished.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh?" You looked up at the sound of Nanami's inquiry, your brows furrowing even further.

Your eyes got momentarily lost in the flex of his exposed forearms as Nanami dropped the paper he had been reading through on his desk and followed by removing his signature glasses to reveal enthralling syrupy hazel eyes focused solely on you, likely intending to give you his full attention.

"You seem... preoccupied today."

That gave you pause. The sentiment Nanami expressed - the articulated concern - wasn't unusual. His uncanny ability to be acutely aware of your wavering moods easily contrasted with his habitual detached persona. Sometimes you wondered if he was genuinely worried or merely being polite.

"You know me so well," you chuckled under your breath, gaze wavering. With how easily you got lost in his eyes it was challenging to keep up the eye contact when they were unconcealed like that. You sighed, "it's nothing important, don't worry about it."

He tsked condescendingly, "If it's bothering you that means it is important."

You nearly snorted at that, not because his declaration was funny but because you didn't have to look up to know it was accompanied by that skeptical and judging expression of his. You did look up anyway, and your next words jumped out of you before you could think them through, "How are you even real?"

Despite his guise, Nanami had never once been mean to you. On the contrary, he always seemed to have words of encouragement ready for you. You wished more people took notice of this side of him.

"I'm sorry?" His confused frown and slight tilt of the head was nothing short of adorable. You smiled and shook your head dismissively before propping your chin on your hand as you rested your elbow on the table in front of you.

"I was just thinking about this Friday," you explained with a small shrug as the fingers of your other hand tapped against the wood rhythmically.

His low hum carried a touch of raspiness characteristic to his voice as he regarded you contemplatively, most likely expecting you to further expand your line of thought.

You succumbed under Nanami's unwavering perusal and eventually unraveled your inner turmoil:

"it's just... I've never had a Valentine," you paused to gauge his reaction, eyes flitting over his face for the slightest change in expressing and opting to continue when there was none, "on Valentine's Day."

Maybe there was a slight twitch to his brow or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you (for he remained just as still as a statue), but Nanami gave you no other indication he had even heard your outburst. He was definitely judging you. You slid down your seat, burying your face in your hands.

Nanami felt his hands twitch, the need to reach out and comfort you almost too much for him to bear.

"Fuck, how pathetic is that?" You laughed deprecatingly, peeking at him through your fingers, "That probably sounds like such a silly concern to you. I shouldn't have annoyed you with it. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. That does not sound silly. Or pathetic. Like I've said, if it's troubling you, it's a legitimate concern." the deep and rather stern tone he used had you sitting up, mouth slightly agape. "I can't help but wonder though... how come you've never had a valentine?"

"What do you mean?"

Nanami leaned back on his chair, crossing his legs and bringing his hands together on his lap and a shiver ran down your spine as his gaze glided over you from head to toe before returning to your face.

"That outcome just seems rather unlikely. Objectively speaking, you have a lovely personality and you're obviously a very attractive person."

You gaped at him, unsure there had ever been another time he had outwardly complimented you like this. Sure he would sporadically praise you for a job well done or on your improvement, but never something so personal. And then you were laughing because you'd rather not unpack whatever he could have implied with that, less it drove you crazy.

"You really are too sweet, Nanami," you pretended to wipe imaginary tears once your laughter died down. "I think as a child and through my teenage years I went unnoticed and then as an adult it was mostly a matter of timing. I'm always single this time of the year. Just unfortunate coincidences I guess," you shrugged.

"Well, who's to say this year won't be different?" his piercing gaze finally relented when he spoke, legs uncrossing and hands searching for his glasses. It was clear the conversation was over.

"I doubt that," you snorted. "Thanks for acknowledging my concern though. I do feel better about it." For what it's worth, the weight on your chest felt less heavy, both thanks to his accidental pep talk and uncharacteristic positivity.

"I'm always glad to be of service" to you left unsaid.

"Anyway," you clapped your hands together before using them as leverage to push yourself up and started picking through your belongings, even though you knew you would need none of that. "I better get back to work 'cause I'm not being paid to lazy around. You're an angel, Nanamin. See you around!"

He was definitely avoiding looking as you walked out of the room because you certainly wouldn't have said that had you been able to witness the vile images constantly permeating his head and tainting his thoughts.

It's not like he hadn't been watching the tantalizing sway of your hips and the enticing curve of your neck peeking from underneath your shirt from the corner of his eye when you walked into that same room earlier that day though.

Shaking those pesky thoughts, Nanami focused instead on the plan already forming on his heads, the gears turning as he deliberated on his new goal: be your valentine.

Friday came around too soon for his liking, but the plan had already been set in motion. Even though you consistently flustered him, Nanami couldn't recall a time he had been quite as anxious before.

He had been not so patiently waiting by the window, shoulders stiff, impassive expression, crossed arms and fingers of his right hand tapping continuously on his left bicep.

The setting had been arranged just right for your arrival, but his scheme wasn't without fail. There was one small hindrance Nanami forgot to take into account: Gojo.

"Look what we've got here, someone has a secret admirer!" his cadence was unmistakable as he crossed the threshold to the office alongside you.

You stopped on your tracks, gaping like a fish at the voluminous arrangement of blooming red roses in light pink tissue paper set on your desk.

"What the- What's all this?" You put your hands on your waist and turned to face the mam beside you, "Gojo, I swear to god. If this is your idea of a prank-"

"Not me, sweets."

"Then who-?"

Nanami cleared his throat, finally calling the attention of the bickering duo to himself. Seeing him promptly causes your annoyance to face into a bright grin,

"Hi, Nanami! Almost didn't see you there!"

Which he would have corresponded hadn't it been for the white-haired nuisance standing by you.

"Nanamin! My favorite office worker dropout." Gojo smiled and opened his arms widely as if expecting a hug, only to receive a deadpan instead, the vein at Nanami's forehead close to bursting. Gojo lowered his arms, a pout on his lips.

"Gakuganji is waiting for you," it's what Nanami went with as a greeting.

"Ha! That old geezer could die waiting for all I care." Gojo dismissed the assertion. He leaned forward, one long finger swiping underneath the band of his blindfold to pull it up on one side, and winked at the blonde sorcerer, "but I will leave you two lovebirds alone, if that's what you want."

After snapping his headband back into place he was off to bug someone else.

You strolled over until you stood face to chest face with Nanami and reached a hand to smooth the lines between his brows, "with the way Gojo irritates you, you'll look like an old man in no time if you don't relax a little bit, Nanami."

His entire body seemed to loosen up at your touch - jaw and fists unclenching, eyes softening, shoulders falling. It worked like magic and you didn't even know.

"I'll try my best."

You stepped back, cringing as you became mindful of his personal space which you had just trespassed with no warning whatsoever. Yet, you thought better not to acknowledge it and instead held onto the strap of your bag with both hands, using it as an anchor, and pointed your chin to the flowers.

"Any idea who's behind the roses?"

"I am."

"What?"

"I wanted to gift them to you for Valentine's Day."

"Oh. Oh!" A smile slowly built as the surprise sunk in, "that's such a sweet gesture. Thank you, Nanami!"

He nodded once, lips parting and closing briefly as if unsure of how to proceed, "you know, I consider myself a very eloquent man, but you make it very difficult to express myself.... to find the right words. I even considered leaving a letter along with the flowers, but I believe some matters are better said in person."

"Do I make you nervous, Nanamin?" you teased, head lolling to the side playfully.

"Please, don't call me that."

"Sorry," you winced, scratching at your wrist, "Yuji and Gojo's antics rub on me sometimes. I'll go back to Nanami."

"I'd prefer if you called me Kento, actually."

Now, who's making who nervous?

"Alright. Kento."

He straight out gulped as you carefully enounced his name, almost as if caressing the sound. Kento cleared his throat, eyes flitting to the ground and then back to your face.

"And yes, you do make me nervous."

You bit your lip to suppress a proud grin. Was it too soon to mention you liked the idea of making him nervous?

Nanami took a deep breath before saying your name, "will you be my valentine?"

"I'm- Really?"

"If you will have me, that is."

"Kento, I'd like nothing more."

"Well, in that case, would you like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate the occasion?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely."

"I want to cook for you, but I didn't want to be presumptuous assuming you'd be comfortable going to my home on our first date so I also went ahead and made reservations at a restaurant, I can even send you a copy of their menu if that would make you less anxious."

That was the closest you had ever seem of Kento rambling. Maybe he had been nervous, after all.

"First date, huh?" You chuckled, swaying back and forth in your giddiness. "You could never make me uncomfortable, Kento. I'm fine with dining at your house tonight."

"Excellent. I will pick you up. Is 7 a good time?"

"It's perfect."

"I'll let you get back to work then. I look forward to tonight."

"So do I."

He smiled briefly before strutting to the door. You were so hypnotized by the way his shoulders flexed underneath his suit that you nearly forgot:

"Kento!"

"Yes?" He stopped and turned to you right as he reached the door, one inquisitive brow lifting above the edge of his glasses.

"The flowers are beautiful."

You had been applying the finishing touches to your look when the intercom ringed. You cursed and tripped trying to reach the offending electronic as if Nanami would give up on you if you left him waiting.

If only you know he would wait forever if that's what it took to have you - Kento was a patient man.

"Yes?" you answered cheerfully. His resonant voice called your name in question, making sure he had the correct apartment.

"Hey, Kento. I'll be right down!"

You rushed out the door after picking up your purse and keys and basically flew down the stairs.

You slowed down as you reached the lobby of the building where you could see Nanami standing on the other side of the glass doors, hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants, his biceps bulging in the sleeves of a clearly ironed crisp white shirt and undercut visible underneath his brushed back blonde hair. All you could think then was that it was Valentine's Day and that man was waiting for you.

Nanami turned when he heard the door unlocking and watched as you stepped outside. He breathed your name in wonder, appreciative gaze taking in every detail of you.

"You look absolutely stunning," his voice came out breathy.

"I could say the same of you."

He offered you his arm to guide you to his car, and you took it, treasuring the opportunity of testing if his arm felt just as solid as it looked (it did).

Like the gentleman he is, Kento opened the passenger door for you, but instead of taking the offered seat, you turned to face him and stood on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When you got back to the sole of your feet you could see the dust of red looming from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"You have a beautiful smile. You should wear it more often," you commented casually even though the palm of your hands were clammy and your throat dry.

Only then you did enter the car, a satisfied grin painting your face at the sight of a flustered Nanami as he closed the door after you and walked around the vehicle to take his spot as the driver.

Of course he drove an austere German luxury car, the spotless silver undoubtedly recently polished and the inside looking just as pristine. You would have thought it was brand new if you hadn't felt his expensive cologne in the leather seat or if you couldn't see his blunt sword on the back seat through the rearview mirror and keys and water bottle on the center console.

The drive was filled with quiet conversation as you filled each other in on how you spent the day: you complaining about paperwork, him praising Ino and Yuji. Nothing outside of usual.

The conversation never dimmed, if anything it only picked up once you made it inside his apartment. He opened a bottle of wine and handed you a glass, pointing you towards one high stools by the island in his kitchen so you could watch as he finished off the dinner he had left half-ready before picking you up.

It all felt familiar, safe.

And the sight of his broad back and tiny waist accentuated by the apron tied around it was not half bad of a view.

You were slightly tipsy by the time he finished putting together the salad and the oven beeped announcing everything was ready.

"Gosh, it smells heavenly!" You commended after a particularly strong sniff of the delectable aroma reached your nose.

"Hopefully, it tastes just as good." Nanami chuckled as he removed the roasted chicken, bread rolls and vegetables from the oven and took it to the table. You took that as you cue to follow after him to the dinner room.

He had set the table previously to your arrival with plates, glasses, cutlery and napkins for two. The decoration consisting of flowers and candles.

You settled in comfortable silence as you ate, you leaving complimentary comments and delighted hums with each new flavor you discovered and Kento taking it with gracefulness until both of your plates where cleared.

"You've outdone yourself, Kento. When I mentioned my lack of valentine I really expected nothing out of it. Thank you for making this day less sad for me."

Nanami gifted you with a soft smile, one you didn't think you had ever seen on his lips, his eyes squinting lightly with it, "it was my pleasure."

His soothing disposition gave you the courage to continue:

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

"Imma walk out that door, Kento." you threatened, but Kento knew it was in jest. Still, he relented:

"Please, do ask a second question."

"Are you doing this out of pity? Because I was moping about never having a valentine?"

Kento regarded you curiously, the lack of glasses letting you read him easily than you would have usually, but not without some challenge, considering most of his expressions were kept to a minimum.

"What do you think?" He questioned softly.

"I think," you stopped and used the hold you had on the stem of your cup to twirl the remaining liquid inside of it, "you've never went out of your way like this for anyone. At least not for as long as I've known you."

"That would be correct." He nodded once, almost proud of you for reaching an accurate conclusion.

"So why are you doing so for me?"

"Because I want to," simple as that.

"Because I have a lovely personality and I am a very attractive person? Objectively speaking, of course." You parroted his earlier words with a playful smirk.

"Perhaps I haven't expressed myself clearly." Kento leaned forward, his hand reaching yours across the table, probably to stop your nervous fidgeting and bring your full attention to him, "I think you are lovely. And beautiful."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

"Spending this Friday with you is the farthest thing from charitable. I'm doing it out of my own selfish desires."

"I'm still not convinced. It's just that... earlier today you said I made you nervous, but you've been the picture of composure all night. Even your place looks impeccable despite the fact that you spent hours cooking," You explained your doubt, but your voice wavered as his thumb started caressing your knuckles back and forth.

"Don't let the image fool you. That's a facade. I'd like to think after a couple of years I've became a pro in disguising my flustered state around you."

"That's... a long time."

"Upon our initial meeting, your beauty was the first thing I noticed, and then just how charming you are."

"That just can't be right. What, you just immediately knew?" You mentally cursed yourself for your eagerness, shaking your head, "you know what? Don't answer that. I'm just fishing for compliments now."

"And I'll gladly shower you in compliments for you are deserving of them. It wasn't immediate, no. I believe these feelings came to fruition with small interactions throughout our daily lives because I've come to perceive how kind, passionate, and intelligent you are through them. All qualities I strongly admire."

"Well, I think you are all that but also honorable, wise, generous, and dependable. Not to mention very, very handsome."

"Is it safe to assume you feel the same then?"

"Oh, more than safe."

"Good."

"You also make it very difficult for me to lower my standards. Because not only you're incredible, but you also can cook? You have to teach me how you do those bread rolls!"

"I've actually got the recipe from a local bakery. Is where I buy bread more often than not, considering our hectic schedules. They have a great assortment of pastries as well. I'll take you there another day."

"Is this your way of asking me out on a second date?"

"No."

Your face fell, surely you hadn't read all of this wrong?

"I'd like our second date to be more romantic than that. That's me asking you out for a casual outing. Perhaps as your boyfriend?"

You could have hit him and his stupid smug smirk as relief washed over you.

"Yes, this is my way of asking you if you'll allow me that honor." Kento answered your next question before you even had time to formulate it.

part 2 (AKA the smut) here

©sugurusfavemonkey 2025┃all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate or otherwise modify this work

[blakeswritingimagines]

Relationship List With Sidney Crosby

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He loves to shower you with affection, with little to subtle gestures such as placing his hand on the small of your back when walking together, hugging you from behind when you're cooking, and playing with your hair or running his fingertips across your skin when you curl up on the couch together. He also enjoys randomly telling you that he loves you, how beautiful he thinks you are, and giving you random kisses. All for his pleasure.

B = Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

The relationship would start slow. Being close friends before anything else, which eventually turned into a flirtation. After a heated night of passion, which turned into a night of cuddling, Sidney would realize how deeply he cares for you but it'll take a few days for him to gain the courage, and admit he doesn't want just a one night stand.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He absolutely loves to cuddle with you, often pulling you into his lap when you're sitting on the couch or on the bed together. He'll either have you cuddled up against his chest where he can bury his face in your hair or he'll pull you into his side where he can hold you close to him, while mindlessly rubbing your hip and leg with his hand.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

With his more introverted personality, he loves the idea of being home, just the two of you. So he'd definitely be looking for someone to settle down with and build a life with. He's a good cook, often surprising you with breakfast in bed or making you his favourite meal while telling you to stay in the kitchen and not touch anything. Chores would always be split but he'd always pick up on your slack if your day was particularly stressful.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would hate to do it, it would tear him up inside, but if it happened, it would be when you two are alone, and he'd want a lot of time to talk about it. He'd be gentle, he'd let you yell at him, cry, get all your feelings out, and he'd take it. He would be heartbroken, he'd tell you that he still cares for you and that he'll always be there for you but it's time for you two to go separate ways.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's always looked forward to having the commitment with someone, but due to his career and the travelling throughout the hockey season, he's been worried about finding the right person who'd be able to deal with the schedule and the media presence. But with you, he's ready to put a ring on your finger as soon as you move in together, and spend a few years with you before having the conversation about kids and a family.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's gentle in most aspects, his touch with you is light and soft, the words he speaks about you are full of adoration and praise, and the way he treats you is the same. He's gentle during sex, always making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself, and after he'll hold you close in his arms so that he can whisper sweet nothings and how much he loves you in your ear.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He absolutely loves hugs. He'll give you hugs for different reasons, some to express his affection for you, others for comfort, but mostly because he gets to be close with you. His hugs always involve him burying his face in your hair to inhale the scent, nuzzling your neck, and pulling you into him so that you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

There will be times where he's thinking about you, sees a certain song or a movie with you, and the words "I love you" will be at the tip of his tongue, but he'll be nervous to say it out loud, instead saying it in his head or whispering it softly. And eventually when the time comes when he does say those three words, it won't be during a romantic moment, but in a casual moment, just when the two of you are lying on the bed with him wrapped around you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Although he tries to keep it in check he's definitely the jealous type. He hates it when other guys flirt with you when you're out, or when he sees how a guy looks at you with lust. He'll try to ignore it at first, hoping that you'll shut it down without him having to get involved, but if the guy keeps it up, he will insert himself into the situation, often stepping to you, placing his hand on the small of your back or the nape of your neck, while he shoots the guy down.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Slow, gentle kisses which he likes to pepper all over your body, starting from your mouth, trailing across your cheeks, and down your jawline, before going down to the pulse point on your neck and then back up again. He loves taking the time to just kiss your mouth, to run his tongue across your lips and then deepen the kiss so that it's passionate and sensual.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's great with kids and absolutely adores them. Whenever he's around kids he's all smiles and laughter, crouching down to their height so he can interact on their level, or he'll pick them up and toss them in the air. He's also great with the young kids in the neighborhood, often playing street hockey with them. You can already picture him as a dad.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He likes to start the mornings on a lazy note, staying in bed with you as long as he can, watching the sun come up while he rubs and kisses your shoulders, hips and thighs. There will be times when he's awake before you and he'll make breakfast and bring it to you before curling back up in bed with you. He likes to watch you wake up, seeing the sunlight hitting your face and how you smile when you feel him wrapped around you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He loves to bring you to bed at night. He'll run a bath with bubble baths and candles, the only light coming from those, he'll have some slow music playing, and after he's washed your body, towel dries you off until you're warm and comfy, then he'll take you to bed where he'll keep making love to you until he eventually spoons you from behind before falling asleep with his body curled around yours.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Because he's a shy and reserved type, it'll take some time for him to open up. He might reveal things like his feelings for you, or his wants in the future and his desires when it comes to your relationship. But it will take him a bit of time to talk about other things, like his insecurities, his past relationships, or his flaws with himself. He does like to take his time, and wants to make sure that when he does reveal things about himself, that they won't change how you feel about him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He is a level-headed type of person. He knows when to walk away and cool off before it gets to an unpleasant situation. It takes a lot for him to lose his control, though it doesn't mean that he'll let himself get pushed around until he snaps.

His patience does run thin when it comes to jealousy and other men. You'll notice a change in the way he acts, as he won't outright act out but you'll see how possessive and protective he'll get towards you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He definitely remembers the small things. If you mention how much you like a certain food he'll remember that and surprise you with it during a date night. He also remembers your birthday and your favorite colour, and if you even mention a small part of something that you'd like, or that you think is sweet, he will remember and will surprise you with it. He takes note of every little detail about you, but sometimes when he's feeling extra cocky he'll play dumb just so to see you get a bit riled up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment was right after you two had the exclusivity conversation. He was so incredibly happy and he remembers what how you two were sitting on the couch, and how after he confessed this to you, he pulled you into his lap and you both curled up with each other while watching a movie. He remembers it all as if it happened in slow motion because he had you all to himself without any outside forces or distractions.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He can be extremely protective over you. He wants to keep you safe and away from any possible harm. He's not someone who is controlling in that sense though, he wants you to go out and have fun, have girls night out every now and then, but there will be times where he'll call you to check to make sure that you're safe, and when you're out with others he'll keep in contact with you to ensure that you're with them and not with some stranger. As for how he would like to be protected, he would want you to be his rock.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He definitely likes to put effort into dates and anniversaries. When it comes to gifts, he's always trying to outdo himself each time, wanting to be sure that you're always getting things you like, whether it is material items or a simple bouquet of flowers. He's consistent with the effort he puts in everyday, be it doing chores around the house, or when he comes home to you after traveling for games. He wants to make sure you know how much he appreciates having you by his side.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

As much as he tries to be healthy, he does have one weakness that he knows he shouldn't indulge in, but it's hard. It's a sweet tooth. His weakness for sweets definitely gets the better of him, and sometimes he'll use hockey as an excuse to spoil himself with some doughnuts. He also is a bit messy in the sense that he sometimes forgets to put clothes away, or forgets to put trash in the bin and tosses them on the floor/counter.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? Do your looks bother them?)

He is surprisingly vain. Although he's a low-key kind of guy, he does get some maintenance done for his physical appearance. He works out regularly, but he doesn't over do it. He does like to spoil himself on a pampering day, indulging himself in a spa day or buying expensive hair products. With you, he doesn't get concerned with how you look or how you dress, he loves every part of you, especially when you're in his shirts with no pants on.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He definitely thinks that you are the missing puzzle piece to him. Even during the times when you two were friends, he knew that he always wanted you, he just figured that you wouldn't be interested in him as more than a friend, but when you expressed your feelings and you agreed to being in a relationship with him, it made him realize that he was happy with his life, but it wasn't until he had you as his partner that he felt complete.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He always wants to be extra affectionate, showering you with random hugs and kisses, and if people are around, he likes to show off and hold you close to him, like slinging an arm around your waist or shoulders, or he'll place his hand on the small of your back. He wants to make sure that everyone sees how he dotes on you and how lucky he is to be with you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

A big thing for him in a relationship is communication. He absolutely hates it when you just don't talk or give him the silent treatment. He likes to hash things out and talk it through. He also hates when you make plans without telling him, or make decisions without including him in it. He doesn't like being kept in the dark or kept secret.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs? Does it change around a partner?)

He has a particular habit of falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow or even before. When he's tired, all he has to do is lie in bed for a few minutes and he's out, which at times, does drive some people insane because he ends up snoring. With a partner, he does try to stay awake for a little because he wants to say goodnight to you and tell you a final goodnight kiss, but at times, he just passes out.

[dresh-rx]

The problem i always had with people saying Lloyd is 23 or something in dragons rising BUT mentally he's like 18

Or in Controversallized, he's 18 but mentally 16 or whatever,

Is that MENTAL AGE IS NOT LINEAR GUYS

I feel like people miss this and maturity as a concept.

Longer rant below

It was true at the beginning when he got aged up that he was ~8-10mentally and ~14physically, and for a while it was linear maybe, but mental age is more complex than a thing that follows your birthdays, take examples from real life.

A child under pressure, responsibility and a role they have to be forced to fill, with the addition of trauma will mature differently and faster.

Just like when a kid is stripped away from their family in real life, maybe due to war, abuse or financial reasons, the kid must learn the skills of older ages to manipulate their sourroundings to help them survive. That's forced maturity and a childhood lost.

People could be well in their 30s and have an 18yo more mature than them, its all about the conditions of growing up, and what hardships they had to adapt to.

Also, think about this: What does it even mean to be a specific age mentally? How does a mentally 23 yo differ from a mentally 18 yo person? Its very relative...

We can maybe see Lloyd act more unmature and childish than the others in pre oni trilogy seasons, but ultimately always trying to seem wiser than he actually was because then it was true that he got aged up, and his mental age didn't follow up for a while, but still maturity was expected of him. However i feel like that gradually fades away as we go further, and i firmly believe that his mental age has caught up to his physical a long time ago.

Even if tomorrow's tea never happened, he'd be more mature than his age due to the experiences he's lived through.

Also, mental age is NOT linear to behavioural skills.

The tomorrow's tea left effects on his social skills and behaviour, only because in addition to a fucked up early childhood, he literally skipped the late childhood development stages, arguably the most important one for learning social cues and learning to build connections, in addition to immediately being put into a situation of great responsibility, forcing him to learn all the skipped skills afterwards. And this arguably wasn't because he got aged up, it was the events he got put into. We can also see this in real life with people who were forced to grow up too fast.

If you were to make conversation with an adult who lacks certain aspects of social skills due to reasons, you wouldn't say they are unmature. You'd probably think they are maybe autistic, but not unmature.

And developmental holes are probably the source of many of his issues later on, like trust issues (on both ends, (w Pythor, Harumi, Akita, Garmadon post res), the inability to properly express empathy (DR s3pt1 when reacting to Arin's parent's death), or isolation in crisis (DR, Controversallized, Oni trilogy, Splinter in the Blind Man's Eye,...), and many others.

But these are NOT tied to maturity.

It's simply the effects (and mental health problems) due to one's development.

I'm not gonna go into the psychological aspect of the opposite, when people return to their childhood preferences/behavioural patterns after adulthood because they miss what they didn't have, because that is a different topic.

That being said people can still act younger in times, but thats normal, even healthy, and i'm all for preserving youthfullness. Heck i literally work in a club/bar but will play minecraft and build ninjago sets afterwards. If i see a cool bug i will pick it up and show it around, but that doesn't mean i won't be reliable at work or solve that differential equation for uni projects. Maturity is also the ability to act according to situation.

So... Now that i diverged this much

I don't believe that, and at the very least in dragons rising, that his mental age would be younger than his actual physical self. I believe after all the ninja went through, they long are all more mature than what an average person would be at their age.

And i hope to see that more highlighted in DR with Sora and Arin, (maybe even Wyfy). Sora was forced to mature a bit more than Arin was growing up, and that is apparent among them, with Arin acting like a typical ~15yo, while sora acts more young adult like. But I'm sure the pre ninja Arin and the Arin we'll get after s3 will be very different. Not because the passing of time, but the mental maturity he gained due to experiences (not necessarily positive ones).

But change my mind i guess

Welp, thx for reading my ramble, here is a potato

[allzelemonz]

Settle: Merle Dixon X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Slurs (homophobic), Merle Dixon is his own warning, mention of Merle’s SS symbol, typical southern prejudice/homophobia, neck kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, cockwarming, hand job, cuddling, top Merle and bottom Reader Summary: After striking out with every woman in camp, Merle turns to you and ignores the gay aspect of sleeping with another man in favor of getting laid. A/N: Imagine my lack of surprise but utter disappointment in finding no male reader shit for Merle. Written out of spite. Enjoy.

After a third pill and a third strikeout, Merle is almost certain he’ll have to handle himself tonight. No woman in the whole damn camp wants any action, even with a touch of good ol’ Southern charm Merle attempted. Not a bite from anyone. So Merle stumbled through the cluster of tents, only half as high as he’d like to be and blue balls stiff between his legs. Just as he’s about to turn a corner towards his tent on the outskirts with his brother’s, he catches a pretty sight.

Not that Merle is gay. Of course not. But the man is asleep with his tent partly unzipped, shirt off and back arched like a damn whore. How could Merle not stare just a little. His eyes trail over your back, bare and just fuzzied by the drugs in his system that he may mistake things enough to ignore the dick between your legs.

So he kicks your foot, waking you up.

Your hand goes to your knife first, then you turn to see it’s not something dead behind you. “What, Merle?”

“Ya a queer?”

You squint at him, off put by the way he says it. “Why’re you asking?”

He shrugs. “Fella can’t be curious.”

“Not with that Nazi symbol on your bike you can’t.” You close your hand around your knife. “Go away.”

Merle chuckles, raising his hand in mock surrender. “Woah, woah, there… I was just askin’.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Fine. Yeah, I like men. I’m a queer. Are we done here?”

Merle bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the right words. “Ya let me fuck ya?”

“What?” You ask, sitting up to look at him properly.

Merle scoffs. “Ya heard me. Would ya?”

“Why would you-“

“Ladies ‘round here bein’ stingy.” Merle shrugs. “Hole’s a hole.”

“You’re joking.” You say in disbelief.

“Ain’t like I never fucked an ass before. It’s the same shit.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s really not.”

“Aw, come on, I’ll be quick.” Merle attempts a pout. “Ain’t no trouble.”

You sigh, shaking your head because you know it’s a dumb idea somewhere deep down. “Fine.”

Merle grins. “Atta boy.”

“Get on with it then.” You sigh, watching Merle step inside. “Zipper.”

Merle turns and zips the tent closed behind him, fumbling with it for longer than any regular person would. When he turns his hands go straight to his belt.

You watch his fingers move for a second. “You ever fucked another man before.”

Merle snorts. “Course not. I ain’t a queer.”

“It’s a little different, you know.”

“What?” Merle sneers. “I gotta play with yer pecker er somethin’?”

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. But you have to stick your fingers in for a while and stretch things out.”

“Yer just picky.”

“Maybe. Just do it, asshole, or I’m not gonna let you fuck anything.”

Merle pulls his belt free. “Fine. Pants off then, sweetheart.”

You huff, annoyed at Merle already, but it’s been far too long since you’ve had this chance. You pull your pants off, ignoring Merle’s eyes on your legs and turn around to lay on your stomach.

“Alright.” Merle grins, shuffling up behind you and nudging your legs apart. “What am I doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You turn your head back, half wanting to see the sight. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Spit’s the only lube we have.” You mutter. “Just do it.”

Merle glares slightly, but does as he’s told and presses three fingers past his lips. He sucks on them, his other hand already going to your hip. It’s clear he’s never been the type to do this with any of the women he’s been with either. Without prompting, he drops the hand down and traces until he finds your rim.

“Ya ready for Merle’s magic fingers, boy?”

“Shut up.”

Merle chuckles, circling his finger around before slowly pushing inside. “Whew…” Merle exclaims. “Tight little thing, ain’t ya?”

You open your mouth to speak but Merle’s finger drags against your prostate and all you can manage is a groan as you bury your face down into your pillow.

He leans over you, his hand moving up to grip at the bare skin of your chest. “I find somethin’ good?”

You nod, mindlessly pushing back into him. “Fuck, Merle…”

He repeats the drag, his fingers moving quickly to fuck whatever sounds he can get out of you. You don’t expect much more, but he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. He trails sloppy kisses over your skin, his fingers fully thrusting into you at a quick pace.

“You want me?” Merle murmurs next to your ear. “Want Merle to fuck ya better than some fairy ever could, don’t ya?”

“Yeah…” You answer, spreading your legs as much as you can. “Why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Merle grins against your skin. “You just be a good boy. You’re good at that.”

He sits back up, removing his fingers and positioning himself properly behind you. His hands fix on your waist, pulling you back and propping you up on your widespread knees. You feel his tip press against you for just a second before he presses inside. There certainly isn’t enough lubrication or preparation, so the stretch of being entered hurts just enough to make a few whines form in your throat. Merle pushes all the same, stretching you open and filling you up with everything he has.

He groans as he bottoms out, running a hand over your spine. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip slightly. “Might turn me gay…”

Before you can think much about that, Merle begins to piston his hips at a quick pace. Both of his hands grip tightly at your hips and the force of his thrusts presses you forward into your pillow, only held up at the waist for Merle to fuck into you properly. You let him, relaxing into the hold and letting him use you because the slide of his dick hitting your prostate feels better than anything else. Merle pushes you down to lay flat, leaning over you and rocking into you as his head dips against your shoulder. The sleeping bag below you rubs at your dick with every thrust Merle gives you.

“Knew I liked you.” Merle mutters, half to himself. “Better than any damn woman… shit, sweetheart.”

Merle’s hips stutter and he groans as he releases, burying himself as deep as he can into you. You take heavy breaths as Merle relaxes on top of you, trying to ignore the squirming feeling of not having finished. Then Merle’s hand snakes under you, pumping furiously fast and gripping hard until you mutter his name and your vision blurs for a moment as you spurt cum onto your sleeping bag.

His hand slows to a massaging tempo and you can hear him inhaling strongly. “Ya gotta let me do that again sometime, boy.” He murmurs. “God, yer making me inta a queer.”

“Happy to help.” You mutter, still catching your breath.

Merle chuckles, letting both arms encircle you as he fully lets himself relax on top of you. “So ya liked my dick in ya?”

You bury your head into your pillow, avoiding his annoying question.

Merle chuckles. “Lemme sleep here?”

“Whatever.”

“Can I fuck ya in the mornin’?”

“If you want.”

He grins, settling his lips right next to your ear. “Ya gonna help keep little Merle warm all night too?”

You groan as he pushes against you, his soft dick still filling you and linking the both of you together. “Just sleep, jackass.”

He chuckles again. “Whatever you say, queer.”

[calamityjimao3]

Writing Advice 7-Don't fill in the blanks

Ever watch a horror movie and get down to the end and then BAM the monster is on screen for the first time and now we’re all feeling let down? Well this is an elementary writing error that artsy people like to forget because they make story telling about their vision, not the collective experience. Don’t show the monster. This is something I learned in a high school English class. We read the Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allen Poe and, spoiler alert for a story that is over 100 years old, we never find out what was in the pit. We are told that it is horrible, the most horrible thing we can think of, and we are left with that. Now my teacher went around and had us write down what we thought was in the pit, quietly and without collaboration, and we passed our guesses to him and he went and read through them aloud. One person thought it was a pit of snakes. Someone else thought it was a pit of lava. The guy who freaked the teacher out the most thought it was a rotating cheese grater. So the point? We all wrote down the thing that scared us the most. Poe’s story was fuelled by our imagination and our fears and that is where he really reached the audience. He let us build the setting and never said we were wrong, allowing the entire audience to take the journey. So when you set up a hidden monster in a horror movie and you show it, you are popping that bubble. I know what a monster that scares me would look like and it doesn’t look like that, so I’m not scared anymore and I am a little bummed by that. Now, this ALSO applies to other situations in stories. The monster is just the easiest one because if you are a horror fan you’ve had it happen. Another place you see where this is super common is character descriptions. Fanfiction this is a little less of a big deal because a lot of times you are borrowing characters that are already defined, but this is important for original characters. You don’t need to describe them. That isn’t saying you always shouldn’t, far from it, but it really depends on the why. You can use character descriptions to tell you more about the environment they are from, the culture they are from, the class and position they hold, etc. I like to be blunt about certain aspects of character description when I am explicitly representing a minority so people can’t whitewash my story or make everyone heteronormative.  But this is where it gets interesting. You can skimp on details. Let’s look at our good boy Tolkien and what we know about Legolas. Yes yes, he has long blond hair and blue eyes and pointy ears because that’s what Peter Jackson put in the movie so that must be true. Wrong. Tolkien gives us next to no physical details on Legolas. We know he’s an elf and that’s it. We don’t even know if elves have pointy ears. Tolkien never says. Without Jackson getting in there and mucking about everyone would have had a very individual and specific image as to what an elf, especially what Legolas specifically, looked like. We do have characterization. Legolas is silly and a little sassy, so it isn’t like we don’t know him. He’s not a mystery. We just don’t know what he looks like. And that is very intentional. It makes the character way more relatable and interesting. If I have an image of what Elf means to me I am going to slap it on Legolas so fast. Maybe I think he should have brown hair because he grew up amongst the forest elves and maybe it should be short so it doesn’t snag on trees (I am not getting into LOTR vs ROP lore lol). Maybe I like the character and have a bit of a crush on Legolas, so I insert my crush into this Legolas shaped hole in the story. Not saying Tolkien never described his characters but he refrained enough to really bring the audience along on the journey. When he did get specific he was doing so with the intention of creating a vibe or letting everyone else know his wife was the most beautiful person to have ever existed. 

So if you really want to have your audience create the world with you, give them hints, not descriptions. Sure, maybe she’s in rumpled clothes with frizzy hair. You don’t need to tell us hair color, or whether or not it is curly or just bushy. Maybe she is the most beautiful person in all the land, with her skin that positively glowed and her hair styled carefully. If you start getting into facial features you start describing what you think is beautiful or what the land thinks is beautiful, which is definitely going to be different than some readers. There is a tumblr post floating around how if snow white had red lips and pale skin and dark black hair she’d look like a vampire, despite that always being the way she’s described.

I think the best philosophical understanding of this is the taoist concept of the uncarved block. When you have a sculpting block that is untouched it has the possibility of being anything, but the moment you start cutting into it you start limiting what it could be. Descriptions are like that.

Of course you can’t abandon them completely. They are still important. I definitely need to know if your character has fangs that everyone can see. And there are going to be characters that as an author need to be described in full detail because that is so much of who they are. But skimping is not only fine but, when done deliberately, can really improve the relationship between the audience and the story. You just need to know that the mechanic exists and whether or not you want to lean into it.

So, this might be as clear as mud but I hoped I got the gist communicated.

[shinwonderful]

Freedom of Choice

prologue to Heavy is the Heart (That Wears the Crown) [masterlist coming soon]

part of you hoped you'd be able to avoid this aspect of royalty, but it was inevitable. they would never allow the sole heir to the kingdom of evermoor to remain unmarried. all you can hope for is that one of the suitors you meet will be the true love you've always dreamt of.

⁺✦ seventeen x reader (cyoa style!) ⁺✦ word count: 3.3k ⁺✦ genre: historical, kind of a mix of everything lol ⁺✦ warnings: shitty parents, forced marriage, mention of being pressured into intimacy, i promise i'm not a royalist i just think historical stories of nobility are v romantic

જ⁀➴┊ [🐈] happy valentine's day!! this series has been in the works since november, and i'm so excited to finally post the prologue! this series has come to be very close to my heart, and i'm really excited to share it with you guys!

special thanks to @lovewithoutresin my beautiful bestie for editing and writing the dialogue for the reader's Handmaiden! I love that this series has a piece of you in it too MWAH!!

the prologue and a certain upcoming chapter are dedicated to the lovely @ylangelegy for inspiring me to pick up writing (on tumblr) again after nearly a decade (christ alive i'm old. 💀). if they hadn't been so supportive and expressed interest in this story, i'd likely not have written it. happy valentine's day ilysbbbb

dividers by saradika!

each chapter of this series will have a (relatively lol) period-accurate theme and costume.

this chapter's theme is Fauré: Après un Rêve (ca. 1870).

"A song about devotion and passion. The dreamer yearns for the return of her dreams, in which she met her love: ‘In sleep made sweet by a vision of you’."

the costume for this chapter is this gorgeous afternoon dress (ca. 1835) from the met museum archives.

“All we ask is that you keep an open mind.”

The rattle of the carriage wheels against the meticulously hand-paved road beneath your fancifully cushioned seat was, perhaps, the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment. You could do little but curse them internally, knowing putting up a fight was… tragically futile.

“How do you mean, Mother?”

You already knew the answer to this question, but it bought you a bit of time to school your reaction, to use your decades of lessons in decorum to keep your actual thoughts and feelings from clawing themselves out of your mouth.

After all, for God’s sake, how could they expect you to choose a husband on this supposed ‘diplomatic tour’?

You’d, of course, rolled your eyes when your Handmaiden had told you of their plans (though a much more tumultuous emotion stirred behind your sardonic response). Your parents hadn’t even afforded you the courtesy of a conversation before making arrangements for the tour. Instead, the news was broken only after your Handmaiden heard the rumors in whispers that echoed through the long, hollow halls of your castle. (Pro Tip: Having a best friend on your staff never stops being helpful.) You knew what this was, and it wasn’t simply diplomatic. At least, not in the usual sense.

You knew what this was– everyone did. You were of the age where courtiers began to whisper about your lack of husband, gossiping about why the Crown Heir of Evermoor had yet to even begin the courting process. Why so many requests for meetings had gone politely rejected.

The truth was much less salacious than popular theory– as is usually the case. Quite simply, you’ve just yet to meet an eligible bachelor that doesn’t make you physically recoil at the prospect of being wed to them. Between the Dukes whose eyes on your female staff were… less than respectful and Counts who couldn’t make it longer than thirty seconds without saying something to stroke their own egos, you’d rather shovel the stables by hand than meet with any prospects for the time being.

There had been a close call once, just a few months back, where you’d met with a neighboring King who was charming enough at first. That is, of course, until the bastard had tried to pressure you into necking with him after dinner one night. You sent him packing on the spot. And your parents, the Queen and King, were irate. Apparently, not offending the royal family was more important than your honor.

Which, tragically, prompted them to force your hand into embarking on what would be your ‘grand tour’ throughout the nearby kingdoms. Officially, it was a tour to introduce you as the Crown Royal to your (pre-established and potential alike) ally’s own Royal Families. To establish a line of communication and get to know each other sooner rather than later. But none were gullible enough to miss the writing on the wall. You were unmarried, and most of the kingdoms you’d be visiting had unmarried royal sons of their own to offer. After all, for a royal as high-ranking as yourself, it’s most appropriate for you to marry other ‘high-value’ royalty. Those who would be Counts in their own right someday, some even Kings. Any children born would rule over both domains, doubling your families’ power and influence in the realm. (And that was all anything was ever about. Cue eye roll.)

Perhaps you’d have fought harder if you thought there was the slimmest chance of getting your way, but… why kid yourself? This was an inevitable. Since you were young, you’d known your fate would be that of most born of noble blood. To be used as a bargaining chip, a pawn in someone else’s game– one neither of you had elected to play.

Sure, there had been a time many years ago where you’d find yourself in despair over this. Growing up, your favorite stories were the ones told of love triumphing over all. You’d go to your balcony in the dead of night, wishing to any power that could hear you to be one of the lucky ones. For you to have the chance at a marriage of love. A husband you chose not because of the family crest he bore, but for the tender affection he showed you. The way he lit up your world, coloring your bluest nights into the tender pinks of the sunrise. Someone who was well and truly yours, divorced from the way nobility are traded like commodities, but how love brings two souls into one, merging until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. A love like poetry. A love worth writing about.

But those days were long behind you. Even the most hopeless of all romantics can’t resist the effects of erosion, the cynical waves of the ocean clawing at the coast until even something so eternal as the Earth itself gives way, becoming part of the ocean it once fought to resist so vehemently. Holding onto that optimism… at some point begins to hurt you more than it helps you. And so you, once as steady as the Earth in your quest for love, you surrendered to cynicism just as steadily, until you, too, found it hard to believe that love in the pure sense even existed at all. 

Of course, those were the times when your Equerry would ask you to accompany him on a trip to the local market. After all, none could read you quite like him. It came with the territory– his job, of course, to be your shadow. To care for you, and to watch over you. And he took his role very seriously. To him, this meant to help you through not just your meetings with the steward, but also to watch for signs that your spirits need lifting (despite this not technically being in his duties). And seeing how your mouth twitched into a frown any time someone mentioned the concept of love the past few months? He didn’t have to be a scholar to read you.

So he pulled you into the castle’s preferred bakery, calling for Mister and Missus Kim and producing a beaming smile when the pair came out from the back to say hello. The couple’s eyes shined every time they looked at one another, and the three of them talked about the castle’s weekly order as you watched from near the door, mindlessly eyeing the pastries on display in the cabinet, trying to ignore the way your chest fluttered just being around something so beautiful. She held a toddler on her hip, and the moment it crossed your mind that she was looking tired from holding the boy, her husband instinctively grabbed him, placing him to lay upon his own chest instead. It was as if they had their own language, something silent but incredibly tangible that tied them together. And it was a sight to behold.

Your heart felt much less heavy on the ride home, your eyebrows quirked in thoughtful wishing instead of the bitter resignation they tended towards. Your Equerry said nothing, his hands smoothing against the hat he’d placed on his lap as he smiled softly. He didn’t need your words to know he’d done well, even if he would love to hear them. But alas, the you of the present day was much too timid to speak what was on your mind. The thoughts were much too soft for someone who was to someday rule over this nation. But maybe, you thought, maybe you were what was too soft. Maybe fate had played a cruel joke in making you the only one who could govern your beloved country once your parents no longer could. Maybe it was all a fool’s errand.

Because you couldn’t help but feel that… perhaps you’ll never be lucky enough to possess a love of your own, but you’re more sure than you’ve ever been that love is one of the finest things humanity has to offer– so real, so tangible that it shone through the dark clouds hanging over your head. And you’d do anything it took to feel its embrace, even for the smallest moment in time.

It was hard to contend with the idea people had in their head about you at times. To them, you were the Crown Heir of Evermoor. Sole Heir at that. Flowers bloomed bright the day you were born, and (according to folklore) it’s impossible for a flower to wilt if it’s been blessed by your presence.

You care deeply for your nation, making certain your Equerry schedules an allotment every few weeks for you to visit the capital’s town square, relishing in the bustle of the city and the chatter of those hard at work, or those working to forget their hard day at work. But when they notice you, they’re quick to forget what they were doing. Instead, they either gawk openly, or rush to have their moment with you. Something they’ll remember for a lifetime; ‘the time the Crown Royal complimented my pelerine’ or ‘the time I made the Crown Royal smile by presenting them with a rose’. 

But at home? You’re just… you.

You’re sprawled out over your plush bed, dressed down to your chemise and pantaloons as your Handmaiden helped you sneak a second dessert to share, shutting the door to your quarters quietly as she, too, leapt to join you in your bed with a mischievous smile (though there was an unspoken tension in the air that neither of you cared to address just yet). Your hair hit your shoulders in what were once carefully-manicured curls that had loosened throughout the day. If it were anyone else, you’d be shamed for the lewdness of this moment, but this was another perk to having your best friend as your Handmaiden. With her, this was perfectly appropriate. Even if it wasn’t technically in the spirit of the rules.

The upcoming months hung over you like a death sentence. Tonight would be one of your last as a single person, one of the last you’d not be betrothed– or worse, married. At the end of the week, you’d be leaving on your tour. Leaving the only home you’d ever known to stay at palace after palace belonging to strangers who intended to sell you on their sons. And if there’s one thing you knew; the only thing more formidable than your citizens competing for your attention is dozens of nobles doing the same. At least your people had some sense of dignity.

Today was one of the last nights you’d be free to kid yourself into believing that, by some miracle, you’d get the fairytale ending you’ve always dreamed of. Because once you left the borders of Evermoor, there would be no returning without the burden of a ring on your finger, its center stone heavy with insurmountable expectations and a destiny you’d never get to seek.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud clink of a fork on your Handmaid's plate– a clearly theatrical gesture. 

“So?” She sat her plate aside without looking away from you. When you gave her no indication that you knew what she was about to broach, she continued, her voice casual and innocent. “How long were you planning on moping about for? I just mean to ensure we stay on schedule.” 

Eyes still trained on the plate of Ratafia Cake in front of you, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at one corner of your mouth. You gave her a thoughtful hum. “I was thinking… maybe a couple more decades? Don’t want to overdo it, of course.” You looked to her with a facetious grin.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying it. “That sounds about right. I wouldn’t want to waste any more precious time I can’t get back either.” She kept the dry tone, but there was evident concern on her features. Perhaps a bit of frustration as well. 

Your smile faltered, the truth in her words hitting a little too close to the truth for comfort. You resorted to pushing your cake around on the small saucer, the prospect of eating suddenly much less alluring as the truth settled in your stomach like a stone. Your voice came out barely over a whisper; “What else can I do? It's not as if I have any say in the matter. I've pushed this off as long as I can. My parents…” You take an exasperated breath, “They aren’t going to budge this time.”

The pretense was dropped then, and she shifted to get comfortable, tone more serious. “I know. It's not fair the way this is happening. I hope you know I am really sorry about that.” 

“I just… don't think that the way you're thinking about this is really helpful to you.” She looked off, thought for a moment, then turned back to pick the situation apart. “We can't change the situation. So the way I see it, you have a few options here.”

You placed the cake to the side then, shifting to lean against the bedpost. Part of you felt the urge to dig in your heels, to protest, but unfortunately one of your best friend’s qualities happens to be that she’s almost always right about these things. So instead, you bite your tongue, nodding for her to continue.

“Option One; you go on the tour. You grin and bear it with the suitors. And really, you’ll only be with each of them for a short time. So if they’re that terrible, you’ll be out soon enough. Don’t worry about months or years from now– just focus on getting through this part. One step at a time.” She picked up her cake again, taking a shamelessly large bite and swallowing it quickly.

“I hate that you’re being made to choose this. But think of it this way: you do get a choice if you go. You can at least focus on trying to influence things to make your life easiest. And maybe you will end up liking someone, at least enough to try. I mean, the odds are one of them won’t be completely insufferable. And if they all are, I promise to let you mope until the end of time, okay?”

That has you laughing again, turning to look at her fully. “Careful; I may actually take you up on that. I really think I’ve yet to fully realize my true potential in the field of being annoying. And as my Handmaiden, you have special privileges as my guinea pig for just that.” You give her an easy smile, leaning on one side while you pick up your cake once more.

But as you take another bite, you ponder her words carefully. As suspected, she was right once again. Most noblewomen are not as lucky as you’ve been. You made it this far without being betrothed, and even then your parents are still allowing you the choice of who to marry instead of forcing someone upon you. So while the situation is certainly unideal… she’s right to say that you still have some freedom of choice. And while small, it’s best to count your blessings whenever they come, lest it drive you mad.

“You’re right.” You pause, trying to find a way to say what you mean without sounding naive. Or worse, corny. “What I want may be out of question, but I suppose any choice is better than none.” You furrow your brow for a moment, lost in thought. “Perhaps… some of these suitors also mourn this choice. Love may be off the table, but… perhaps we can be friends–” You pause once more, laughing softly. “–who just so happen to be married.”

You’re not sure why it took you so long to reach this conclusion. After all, noble as they may be, these suitors are human just as you are. Each of them have their own thoughts, goals, desires, dreams. And perhaps, like yours, theirs is also stifled by this imposed choice. Perhaps.

“Exactly,” she replied, face brightening a bit at your change in tone. “And… well, who knows?” She shrugged, not going any further into the thought. “At any rate, it won’t necessarily hurt to have a partner in crime.” 

“My, my– are you suggesting that I replace you now?” You tease her.

“Right. So what's Option Two, then?”

“Option Two; we let the kingdom burn, run away in the night and live on the lam. That one has a few kinks to work out.” She played it as straight as she could, but it was obvious from her face that she was trying to be funny. 

Your laughter comes out in a snort, her words catching you by surprise. “You know what? I'm half tempted to take you up on that. But I don't think Mr. Stick-in-the-mud Equerry would go for it. Tragic.”

“Oh, forget him,” she said lightly. “We can do it on our own.” She finished the last bite of her dessert.

You try to ignore the way you immediately feel guilty imagining the expression on your Equerry's face if he knew the details of this conversation. Even tonight, you had to practically beg him to take the night off so you could have this time with your Handmaiden. He's been practically glued to your side since the news of your fate reached him, ever protective of you. He means well, but… a girl needs to breathe sometimes. You can only imagine what he'd do, how he'd feel if you fled. You scrunch up your face apologetically at your Handmaiden, still smiling. “Sorry. Maybe next time.”

She laughs, shaking her head at you softly. “Seriously, though. Just try, okay? There must be some part of this that could work out for good.”

As you, too, finish the last bit of your cake, you nod solemnly in return. “Alright. I'll… try. But only because you asked me to.” You answer with an air of drama. “We should both hope this goes well. After all, he’ll soon be your problem just as much as he’ll be mine. It's your neck on the block too,” You joke.

“Don't I know it,” she replied, and collected the dish back from you. “And God help us both.”

“We just don’t want you to be so… dismissive. Alright, dear? Give them a chance. They just might surprise you. You’ve been so picky, and we won’t tolerate a repeat of last time.”

The words of your Father hit your ears like an arrow, and you’re rearing back to spit a harsh retort when you feel your Equerry place a steadying hand on your shoulder, just out of view of your parents across from you both. Looking at him, he gives you a sympathetic smile that does little to alleviate your anger, but it succeeds in holding you back if only because you hate fighting with your parents in front of him. (It stresses him out having to play the middle-man when he wants to have your back with no question.)

So you take a deep breath, letting your Father’s words linger in the air of the carriage, which suddenly felt hopelessly stuffy.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that the carriage slowed to a stop, signaling the end of your journey to meet the first of your suitors. Your heartbeat quickened, and as your attendant opened the door to the carriage, the sun pricked at your eyes.

While you waited as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed an unfamiliar hand reaching into your carriage, offering for you to grab to assist you out. “May I help you, Your Highness?”

And though it felt like diving into frigid waters in the black of night, you took the stranger’s hand.

[peachiejeongin]

Venom and Velvet - Hyunjin

Synopsis: Snake hybrids were terrifying; the mere thought of them integrating into society sent humans into mass hysteria. You cannot help when one of them captivates your attention, however, leading to an entire reconstruct of your ideology...

Pairing: snake hybrid!Hyunjin x reader

Genre: hybrid!AU, Fluff, Angsty Elements

Warnings: Do not read this if you have ophidiophobia, bullying, mentions of vandalism

Notice: Hello, darlings! I have recently acquired Snake Hybrid Hyunjin brain rot, thus why you are receiving this story today! [Thank you, fluffylino, we all say in unison]. I have not seen many fluffy Snake Hybrid Hyunjin fictions, so I thought I would create one of my own. Enjoy! :)

It was an honest mistake, how they came to exist.

The fateful day at the chemical plant seemed like any other; chemists researched in their labs, engineers repaired certain sectors of the building, and quality assurance workers monitored every aspect of the plant to a tee.

What happened in the later hours of the day is still unknown. Perhaps it was a careless chemist, maybe a freak accident; however, what was factual was the explosion. The plant erupted into a fury of flame and smoke, first stemming from the lab quarter and swiftly engulfing everything in its path. Hundreds of workers lay dead within the remains.

Or so was speculated.

The first signal of many that something was off was the flames; they were not the typical shades of orange, yellow, or red that one would typically catch glimpse of during an explosion.

They were green.

Flaming, emerald green.

'A mix of chemicals,' was the initial speculation, since that was the most reasonable voucher and humans preferred to opt for the easiest explanation rather than delve into the technical science of situations.

However, this explanation proved irrifutably inaccurate as the second signal came into play; the "deceased" workers rose from what was determined to be their gravesite, yet they were not...themselves. It was evident that some sort of radioactive mutation had occured; those who were once thought of as dead sported a new appearance, consisting of cascading, Sacramento green scales prevailing in patches, primarily on the victims' shoulders, collarbones, forearms, and calfs. Fangs protruded from their upper jaws, claws replaced their fingers nails, and both appeared sharp and hungry. Their tongues forked perfectly down the center, and their once neutral-shaded eyes turned a bright yellow shade, their pupils dilating until they were nothing but thin, black slits. From here, the story became clear: necrotoxins and cytotoxins, specifically the kinds commonly found in snake venom, had somehow been involved within the accident and were responsible for this mutation.

This new species wreaked havoc on the town, biting, constricting, and terrifying every human being in sight. It took nearly a full year for the madness to cease; a surviving chemist from the chemical plant created an antidote for the infected individuals, who the town had started referring to as, "Snake Hybrids." The antitode was administered to every Snake Hybrid, whether by choice or by force. While it did not remove the physical side effects, like the scales or fangs, it significantly calmed their tempers, allowing them to fully act like regular members of society once more.

The town council, however, did not want to take anymore chances; as such, the Hybrids were secluded from society and forced to live in a sectioned off, abandoned chamber of the neighborhood. They were forced to adapt to this new way of life, forced to raise their children in a town in which they had to explain why the humans had such a horrid distaste for their kind.

Yet, the newly-elected mayor had an irking to put a stop to these laws. His mind's configuration believed in equality for both humans and Snake Hybrids. Because of this, he slowly but surely began testing the waters, beginning with a new mandate.

"All university age students, whether human or Hybrid, will be allowed to attend whatever university of their choosing, starting this upcoming school year," he declared one Saturday morning during a press conference.

That, my friend, is how you found yourself in the situation you were currently facing.

You were "normal" by society standards; you had excellent grades, you were above average in athletics, and you had a phenomenal social life. You were the golden child of your town. Growing up, you had heard stories about the Snake Hybrids; the adults in your life did not speak fondly of them by any means, and there were a plethora of urban legends surrounding them. You had been raised to fear these creatures.

As were others your age, you had quickly inferred. When the Snake Hybrid students arrived on campus, everyone had fled like the plague. Nobody had dared to go near them; it was not like they cared, however. They stuck together, with the only humans they interacted with being their teachers. An overwhelming terror shrouded the university.

So, why in this moment, did you find yourself fixated rather than fearful?

You could not take your eyes off of the Hybrid sitting across from you. He looked absolutely nothing like the creatures friends and family had depicted in gruesome stories and tales. He looked relatively human for the most part, spare a few scaley sections on his shoulders and collarbones peaking out from underneath his top. His face was chiseled, the yellow of his irises complimenting it fairly well in your opinion. He had shoulder-length curly black hair that framed his face perfectly. From time to time, you would catch a glimpse of his forked tongue peaking out between his teeth when he became focused on an assignment.

He was incredulously, irevokably beautiful.

You were concentrated on the boy all hour, only opting to focus on your assignment whenever his eyes flicked up to meet yours and you nervously glanced away. Before you knew it, class was dismissed; you took a long time gathering your things on purpose, attempting to work up enough courage to talk to him. You did not take long enough, it seems, as you walked out of the classroom feeling slightly dejected. You did not have to make the planned effort, however.

"Take a photo," the boy nearly snarled out in a harsh manner, catching up to you in the hallway. You swiftly whipped your head around to make fierce eye contact with him; his slitted pupils bore an annoyed stare into your round ones.

"I'm sorry?" you inquired quietly, almost timidly. The both of you were now stopped in the middle of the corridor.

"You heard me," he hissed, both literally and in his tone. "A photo will last longer than staring at me. I'm not some spectacle for you to ogle at." Your eyes widened almost instantly, and you made an attempt to explain yourself.

"Oh my gosh, no!" you exclaimed, regret prominent in your voice. "I am so sorry, that is not what it was at all!"

"Yeah?" his tongue was protruding at his cheek, his tone laced with faux sympathy. "Then what was it?" He crossed his arms as he awaited an answer.

That is when you froze. You did not know how exactly to explain to the guy that you were focused on him in class because you found him absolutely stunning. Even if you did tell him, you were sure he would think it was some cruel joke. You stared down at the ground, your heart beating with guilt.

"I'm sorry," was all you managed to mumble out. You could have sworn that when you looked up, you saw his face soften. He rubbed his lips together and tsked slightly as they unfolded.

"Just don't make a habit of it," he replied, the sentence diminishing in volume as he walked away from you.

---

From that moment onwards, you were captivated by him. Everywhere you looked, he was in your line of sight; at lunch, during classes, even walking around on campus. It was like you could not escape him.

Yet, you did not physically come up to nor encounter him until one late night. You and a couple of your close friends were walking back to your dormitories after a brief party; you were not drunk by any means, but you did feel a tad tipsy after the night's events. You had began to space out when your friends began snickering and stopped in the middle of the walkway.

"What's up?" you asked; their response came in the form of more scorning giggles as they pointed upwards. The direction of their fingers landed on a different dormitory building; it was the dorm specifically designated for the male Snake Hybrids to reside in. Specifically, your friends were motioning to one of the middle windows in which a Snake Hybrid seemed to be working out.

You recognized that face anywhere.

"Oh, yeah, snakes," you stumbled over your words as you spoke. "Anyways, let's get back before lights out?" you tugged on one friend's jacket sleeve, encouraging them to get away from the building.

"Wait, oh my gosh, do you still have it?" one of them asked the girl standing next to her, completely disregarding your comments. In response, the girl smirked and took off her backpack; reaching into it, she pulled out a can of black spray paint.

"Snagged this from shop class," she explained to your confused stature.

"What are you doing with that?" you interrogated, having an anxious idea as to how this conversation was going to go.

"You mean what are we doing with it?" you were corrected. "We're going to have a little late night fun, duh." She accentuated her words with a nod towards the dormitory. Your eyes widened in bewilderment.

"You mean vandalize the Hybrid dorm?"

"Obviously," she stated as if it was the most obvious action in the world. "These guys shouldn't even be here. It's only fair we make that known." She outstretched her arm towards you, spray-can in hand. "Want to do the honors?"

You hesitantly took the can, looking down at it in obfuscation. Without thinking, your grasp on it tightened and you threw it into oblivion, specifically into the spanning woods behind the dorm. You were not exactly sure how far it went, but you did know that your "friends" were pissed.

"Y/n, what the hell?!" one of them scowled.

"I'm not doing this," you crossed your arms as you defended your stance. "Sorry, but they have done nothing to us. How is that fair?"

"Because they're-"

"What?" you interrupted your friend's monologue. "They're freaks? Misfits? Imperfect? Because guess what, so are we. Sure, they have scales and fangs and their eyes are a tad scary at times. Other than that, they are no different than we are." Your friends side-eyed one another and then nodded. They walked away from you without saying another word. You turned around to face the direction they were walking in, your mouth agape in pure vexation.

You let out a deep inhalation in the fall air as you glanced up towards the dorm; the sight that greeted your eyes shocked you: he was staring at you, a smile playing at his lips. The two of you locked eyes before he walked away.

He had seen everything.

---

The next morning, your so-called "friends" ignored you like an unwanted phone call from an ex-partner. They purposely sat on the other side of the room from you in your first hour class, whispering no doubt rumors about last night.

'Great. I'm going to be alone for the day,' you had made up your mind on that matter, dropping your head into your hands. It was not for long, though; you instantly felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked up and met the same alluring gaze you had been hyperfixated on for weeks. Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke.

"Can I sit?" he asked genuinely and politely, contrasting the first and only conversation you had ever had with him. If your face did not physically smile, your eyes surely did. You nodded slowly, and he took the open desk beside you. He never turned his head away from you.

"What's your name?" he pondered, finally getting a chance to get a good look at you.

"We've been in class together for weeks, and you don't know it?" you chuckled humorously. "I'm y/n. Your turn." He quirked an eyebrow towards your reply.

"Hyunjin," he held out a scaled hand for you to shake. You smiled slightly, ignoring the heightened whispers from the other side of the room.

"Hey, about last night, because I know you saw me-"

"Why did you stick up for me?" Hyunjin interrupted your ramble before it began. The question had you pause for a moment.

Why did you stick up for him?

Was it because you thought he was attractive? Was it due to your fight against injustice? The miniscule amount of alcohol in your system? What was it?

You could not formulate a proper response to this question; therefore, you shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know," you spoke earnestly. "It felt right. I don't like seeing anyone being treated wrong." Hyunjin gave a small nod at your words, a sly smile appearing and his fangs protruding.

"Well, thank you," he replied. "Whatever the reason, it meant a lot." You reciprocated the small nod, and for the next hour, you and Hyunjin got a whole bunch of nothing done. You figured out he was an art major, and he smirked at the fact that you were majoring in literature; you pretty much goofed off essentially all class period, making jokes and getting to know each other.

The period ended much too quickly, and you let out a sigh of despair.

"Sit with me at lunch?" Hyunjin asked you optimistically. You nodded, an agreement that, little did you know, would morph your ideology for years to come...

---

You and Hyunjin became inseparable; you spent every waking hour of every day with one another. You sat together in classes, at lunch, and you began spending your free periods with one another. You had quickly concluded that almost everything besides the origin story you had been told about Snake Hybrids was false. The legends about ten foot talk snake creatures, tall tales of them preying at night, and other stories were quickly debunked, some even earning hearty laughs from Hyunjin from how absurd they were.

You were judged harshly by your peers for the time you were spending with him, but you did not mind. As the two of you got to know each other, you grew closer and closer until mutual feelings erupted between the two of you, though neither of you had the guts to confess them in fear of corrupting the fantastic friendship you had just built up. It was an unlikely pairing, a snake and a girl, one being as coarse as venom and the other as soft as velvet.

One fateful day, the two of you had paired up for an art project; you knew Hyunjin's expertise and your fantastic planning skills would get the job done quickly and precisely. Hyunjin had suggested you work on the project at his dorm, so that is exactly where you were headed, catching a couple of off-hand glances as you entered into the building.

You were given access to the building and quickly made your way to Hyunjin's room. You knocked a few times on his door, a plethora of colorful paints in your hand. He opened the door, and the sight that greeted your gaze shocked you: Hyunjin was shirtless, his emerald scales on display, shining under the luminescence of his ceiling light. He took out one earbud and smiled.

"Hey, give me just a minute to set up!" He closed the door gently, leaving you standing there in shock. You knew he was ethereal, but seeing him shirtless was a different tale entirely. You snapped out of your trance when the door reopened; Hyunjin was now in a grey hoodie, matching the color of his sweatpants. He invited you inside his lonesome room, closing the door swiftly behind you.

The next few hours were dedicated to your project; paper was splayed out on every surface with plans sketched on each one, paints of every color were opened and splattered onto a pallette, and those colors subsequently made their way onto the canvas, thanks to Hyunjin's skillfull brushstrokes.

Before you knew it, your project was finished; the prompt you were given was to draw something you thought was beautiful. The point of it all was to contrast every student's differing perspective on the subject. You had opted to paint a sunset, a basic approach but still effective; you had decided, in order to remove the simplicity of it, that would explain in the presentation why the sunset was beautiful. You would go beyond just the mixture of colors and bring in a bit of symbolism as to how the sunset ended the day, thus bringing beauty to a respective finale.

You felt great pride in the progress the both of you had made, and you stared intently at the painting; you were in awe of Hyunjin's talent, how he had made every shade of orange, pink, purple, and red blend together to create an exhilerating portrait. You focused on every intricate detail and how it all came together to make an incredulous scene.

"What are you thinking about, Pretty?" Hyunjin poked your arm with the handle end of the paintbrush; you quickly turned to face him, blushing from the nickname.

"Just how beautiful the painting is. I wish I could look that beautiful." you admitted.

"If you only knew," Hyunjin mumbled in a tone barely above a whisper. You heard what he had said, but you wanted to see if he would repeat it.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Um," Hyunjin felt a lump caught in his throat; his forked tongue moved from side to side in his mouth from anxiety as he tried to explain himself. "I said I could make you pretty like the sunset."

"What?" Before you could receive a reply, Hyunjin dipped the brush he was holding into a glob of orange paint and smeared a streak of it across your forehead. The motion made you gasp before you bust out into giggles; Hyunjin's antics did not cease.

"Now we have to get the red. And the pink," he described as his faintly-clawed hands dipped the brush into each respective color and repeated the swiping motions; he proceeded to do the same with the purple and yellow paints.

"There," he put his brush down and clasped his hands together. "Now, you look like a sunset!" Hyunjin's fangs were loud and proud as he smiled down at you. Your thoughts were colliding together as you figured out a way to get your revenge.

Suddenly, you grabbed a wider brush and coated it with green paint.

"You know, now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think these scales are necessarily green enough," you lunged towards Hyunjin's collarbone; however, you missed entirely, instead meeting a pushed out hand from the male. The impact caused your brush to fleet backwards and land on your neck instead.

"Awe, you look cute with scales!" Hyunjin complimented sarcastically. You widened your eyes, a jolly glint sparkling under the artificial light. Without thinking, you tackled Hyunjin, landing you both backwards on the bed and smearing the array of paints on his grey hoodie. Hyunjin attempted to free himself from your grasp, hissing exuberantly in between fits of laughter; his attempts were for not as you grabbed both of his hands in one of yours, the scales lightly scuffing your palms.

You lifted his hands above his head and, taking the still-glazed brush, smeared lines of green from the top of his neck down to the indents of his collarbones. The ticklish sensation made him squirm and shut his eyes as he continued to giggle. You threw the paintbrush aside on his study desk and rubbed your hands together.

"There," you leaned down, eyeing Hyunjin as the two of you were almost nose-to-nose. "Now, we're even."

The two of you stayed in this position for a while, grins ever-so-present on your faces. Hyunjin took a long, admirable look at you; he looked at your fair skin, your sparkling eyes, and your snow-white smile.

He had concluded in that moment that you were the prettiest girl he had ever laid his amber gaze upon. Yet, an unanswered question still lingered in his head.

"Why were you staring at me on the first day of class?" he inquired, moving his hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his claw slightly scratching your ear in the process. Your face flushed a deep shade of pink at the question.

"I thought," you mumbled. "I thought you were pretty. I didn't mean to offend, I swear. I just couldn't help myself."

"You think I'm pretty?" You nodded slowly.

"Beautiful, even."

He was not exactly sure what thought went through his head before his lips were on yours. Perhaps it was your sweet words alone. Perhaps it was the fact that you had attempted to move your head away from his out of embarrassment from your confession, and he had placed a firm yet soft hand in your hair to stop you. Perhaps it was the way you had looked at him after he did just that, a daring yet shy glint present in your stare. He was not for sure what had pushed him to this action.

He was sure that he wanted to kiss you.

So, here the two of you lie, you on top of Hyunjin as the two of you passionately encapsulated one another. Your hands were cupped tightly on his cheeks while his lightly hovered over your waist. His lips were everything you had imagined them to be; they were smooth, soft, and entranced you into a compassionate haze. His forked tongue teasingly poked at yours, and you felt his fangs accidentally nip at your bottom lip a couple of times. The kiss felt straight out of a 1990s romantic tragedy.

You were not aware of how much time had passed before you had pulled away to catch a breath; you felt the swell in your lips and you physically visualized Hyunjin's as he lay, breathless beneath you. Your arms moved slowly down to his chest, and your head fell to the crook of his neck. He moved one hand to your upper back, the other still gently entangled within your hair.

"Woah," was all you could utter at the moment in time. "Who knew snakes were such good kissers?" you jokingly asked, eliciting a soft chuckle from the Hybrid.

"We're romantics, what can I say?" Your heart was pounding as you looked at him beneath you, and his arms went to snake tightly around your middle, no pun intended.

"Y'know," you had regained your composure and began to chatter. "I wasn't sure about you at first. After all the stories I had heard, all the rumors and tales. Even after you had debunked them, there was still some sort of fear present within me," you confessed, mentally punching yourself as you saw Hyunjin's content expression falter.

"But you...you are so different than what I had imagined. You are the kindest person I've met. You're so gentle and gracious and sweet, and I feel absolutely horrible about the things that I believed, so I guess I'm just going about the long way to ap-" Hyunjin cut off your babling by tilting your head up to face him and capturing you another kiss; this one was shorter but filled with just as much care as the first.

"I get it, I like you too," Hyunjin mumbled against your lips.

"Who said I was going to say that?"

"Am I wrong?" He teasingly asked, looking at you and tilting his head in perplexity.

"Not at all," you confessed.

"I wasn't sure about you either, if it makes you feel any better," Hyunjin admitted. "I thought this was just an act and was going to play out into some sort of cruel prank. But having you here, right here right now with me proves me wrong. You're different than the others. I actually like being around you. I just never wanted to say anything in fear that my deepest worries would materialize and I would lose you as a friend."

"Glad to know the feeling is mutual," you softly spoke. "The only thing is I want to lose you as a friend." Hyunjin shifted his head backwards in indecision.

"NOT like that," you clarified. "I don't want to lose you by any means. I just," you took one of his scaley hands in your smooth ones, "want to gain you as something more than a friend, if that's possible." Hyunjin instinctively rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as his golden gaze affectionately made contact with your own.

"You sure?" he inquired, a playful smirk etched onto his features. "What if people talk?"

"Let them," you responded without hesitation. "Who knows, maybe we can start some sort of shift and people will see that Snake Hybrids and humans interacting isn't so horrible." Hyunjin could not help but beam at your confession. He nodded tenderly.

"Alright. Let's try this," he accepted your heartfelt declaration, causing you to grin wide like the Cheshire Cat. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a tight hug that you never wanted to end.

Thus, the snake venom was adoringly stained onto the velvet cloth, joining them together as one futuristic reality.

[xo-zozo]

gigi grayson headcannons •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

a/n: i love her so much you guys don't understand ugh... anyway you guys voted on this so i hope i didn't disappoint, send requests if you want and happy reading!

tags: @your-mommy-ems @arqbella @reminiscentreader @x-liv25-jamieswife @inmyheaddd

@alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @annamatix @lyrakanefanatic

@123letsgobestie @hathorneheiress @midiosaamor @riddles-n-games

she loves pinterest and has pinterest boards for just about every aspect of her life

same with her spotify account, every emotion that she's ever felt has been put into a playlist

she loves going record stores, thrift stores, used book stores and other small businesses at home and when she goes on vacations

she did gymnastics when she was younger but now she can barley do the splits

she loves overalls

she loves starbucks but her new years resolution was to only go once a week (it didn't last very long)

she always has some bracelets on that match all of her outfits

invests in all of the useless things that she doesn't really need such as ice trays shaped like hearts

she sews little designs into the pockets of all of her jeans

she has one necklace that she never takes off

literally a walking brandy catalog

she had a phase in middle school and high school where she would only eat donuts for breakfast

sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and just has the urge to do something (one of these includes trying to do a handstand again and then falling and knocking something over)

her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

she loves going to concerts so she's had to survive all of the ticket master wars

takes pride in how she does her makeup and hair every morning or sometimes she just wakes up and doesn't do anything at all

roadtrips are so fun with her because she plays all the music and brings all the snacks

randomly texts people compliments just to make their days better

definitely tunes into the grammys every year but thinks that everyone in every category deserves the award

when they were in highschool, she would leave savanah little sticky notes with things on them on her mirror every morning

still says that her favorite color is all of the colors

she loves the movie legally blonde (and all of the other 2000s rom com movies)

she spends a lot of her time getting ready in the morning trying to find the perfect lip product to wear that day

sets her alarm for a certain time but always ends up waking up 30 minutes later

has formed a relationship with her alexa

[silver-soul00]

AH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN

Excluding the Tyler tortured issue which is now repeated like a mantra ignoring the fact that the worst murderers in the world had a horrible experience when they were young so if you are a victim you can also become an executioner.

But still, are you sure we are the ones who need to review the Addams Family products?

Because it seems to me that not to know the subject is you

•Any real fan of the freaky family would know that Wednesday isn't put off by the giant, serial killing monster. The only thing that bothers her is the perceived betrayal and the fact that she was bested. She feels like a fool, and it was a blow to her pride. She even ACTUALLY says: "I guess I have a type."

In fact, in the context of the Netflix series, Wednesday is actually afraid of the monster she kills in the town of Jericho.

Although Wednesday may seem indifferent to many situations because of her cynical personality and her inclination not to fear anything (unless it is related to psychological pain or a threat to her autonomy), at a critical moment, the monster killer becomes a real physical threat to her and her loved ones.

Her reaction to these threats is mixed.

Wednesday is not afraid in a “traditional” way, but her goal is always to discover the truth, which implies a certain degree of vulnerability.

I don't feel like talking about other versions of Wednesday because the point is only Jenna's, but I'm just going to do it for informational purposes.

Wednesday Addams, since her creation by Charles Addams, has never been a character who “loves” murderers or violence for its own sake.

However, she is fascinated by the intellect of murderers and their psychology, especially when it comes to understanding them as complex, enigmatic, and out-of-the-box figures.

This does not imply an admiration for their actions, but rather a kind of intellectual detachment that allows her to look at these crimes with a macabre curiosity typical of her character.

In the 1991 film The Addams Family and the 1993 sequel, Wednesday, played by Christina Ricci, is certainly a creepy and dark character, but she cannot be said to be a fan of murder or violence.

Rather, in the film, there is a kind of admiration for darkness, mystery, and “nonconforming” behavior in general.

Indeed, Wednesday seems to be more interested in defying social conventions than in pursuing any kind of passion for murder.

And above all, let us remember that Wednesday herself was the first one who wanted to rescue Uncle Fester from the clutches of Debbie (who was a husband-killer)

However, the violence that Wednesday shows is not for its own sake or for reasons shown in the screen.

When Wednesday and the rest of her family participate in games or activities that would not normally have a positive meaning, such as playing “hide-and-seek” or using a toy lily pad, the violence or danger is more a form of expression of her rebellion and distorted view of the world, rather than an actual “obsession” with murderers.

While returning to the Netflix series Wednesday, Ortega's character continues to be portrayed as someone who has a detached and intellectual relationship with violence.

It is not that Wednesday loves murderers, but she finds them mentally fascinating.

This aspect is clearly visible in her approach to the serial monster terrorizing the town of Jericho.

Wednesday finds herself involved in trying to understand the identity and motivation of the monster, but she does not do so out of a form of admiration for the murder, but rather out of her own intellectual interest and a desire to solve the mystery.

Wednesday then, becoming attached to loved ones like Enid or Eugene, it becomes clear that she does not want ninete to deal with a criminal like hyde.

But let us not forget that in this version of Wednesday is a vigilante (so she hates murderers in this respect).

Wednesday's character, both in the Netflix series and in previous adaptations, is not “a lover of murderers” as might appear from a superficial reading. Rather, her fascination with violent actions has always been more intellectual than emotional, a reflection of her curiosity about the darkness of human behavior and her inability to feel part of a society she does not understand. In this, Wednesday stands out as a character who prefers to observe and analyze rather than act with passion or out of pure pleasure.

•Were not actual fans of the Addams family before this series came out.

Absolutely incorrect

Indeed, the Addams family was conceived primarily as a social satire and a critique of the bourgeois conventions of the era in which it was introduced, not as a depiction of a criminal or psychopathic family.

The Addams family was never intended to be an example of criminal behavior. Rather, the members of the family have always been comic and grotesque exaggerations of characters who, while living outside social conventions, actually represent a kind of critique of bourgeois society and its values.

In Wednesday's case, for example, her “disturbing” behavior or her inclination to treat death with irony were never presented as evil or immoral acts, but rather as resistance to a society that appeared to her to be banal, hypocritical and self-righteous.

Her family, however bizarre, was always a parody of the traditional family ideal, and was designed to challenge the idea of what was “normal” or “right” in social conventions.

Another key point is that despite their creepy appearance and “unconventional” lifestyle, the members of the Addams family are deeply kind, polite, and considerate, even toward authority figures such as law enforcement.

For example, in the 1994 movie Gomez asks the police for help, or in the worthy 1960s series, the Addams couple bring in policemen trying to befriend them.

Their kindness to anyone, even “strangers” who find them bizarre, is an important part of their charm. These are not dangerous people, but a family that is not afraid to be themselves and makes no distinction between social conventions and their own natural inclination to live outside the rules.

This apparent hypocrisy toward societal norms is one of the most interesting dynamics of the Addams family: they live outside the “normal,” but they are never violent or evil. Instead, they are a reflection of a society that may seem conventional, rigid, and self-righteous, while they embody a freedom of expression and a rejection of social hypocrisies. Their kindness, compassion, and love for others is a direct criticism of a society that often does not do the same, judging and stigmatizing those who are different.

To reduce them to “criminally insane” while ignoring the enormous background they have is really sad

It should not be forgotten that the Addams family, in its first appearances in comic books (1938), was used as a vehicle to challenge social stereotypes. Wednesday, for example, is a character who does not conform to the image of the “good girl” or the “innocent child,” but on the contrary challenges the concepts of innocence and polite behavior while remaining totally non-evil. The Netflix series merely continues this spirit, but with a more modern context.

The Addams family is, after all, an adaptable family whose “eccentric” nature allows for endless reinterpretations. The social critique they represent and their ability to challenge traditional values are aspects that never change, regardless of the artistic forms or mediums in which they appear.

We therefore repeat

Their “eccentricity” and behavior outside the rules have always been a tool for critiquing hypocritical society, not a celebration of violence or anti-social behavior.

So we can well understand that Wednesday is not akin to being with psychopaths or murderers, we should perhaps read less fanfiction and study the publishing and cultural history of the Addams family better before making these kinds of posts

Oh and since this user talks about the fact that "we forgot about the original content of the Addams Family" it shouldn't be well remembered as in the 60's series, Gomez and Morticia often make friends with ordinary people but, for the sake of satire and comedy, they always make everyone run away in fear, but the 2 spouses are genuinely good.

Specifically Morticia who makes friends with old ladies where they talked about feminism, or Gomez who, trying to solve a problem with another parent had to ask Wednesday to apologize for a punch given to a boy older than her.

So it is not so strange if many Wenclair fans (like me) like to think of the fact that the Addams would have no problem accepting Enid.

Nothing personal against the person who made this post but honestly certain stereotypes about the Addams family really lead you to totally wrong thoughts.

[kisses-in-the-void]

hi! Do you have any headcanon about what Mairon thinks of Feanor? Not necessarily in a "Mairon is jealous of Feanor" way, i am curious bc Feanor is such a big presence in the story and has a certain impact on melkor !

An unexpected question, to be honest! I can’t say I’ve thought about it deeply, or that my opinion is particularly interesting or meaningful. But to keep it short, my very biased headcanon is that Mairon hated Feanor. Not in the "I’m jealous that my master is interested in someone else" kind of way, but more like "this is the guy responsible for hurting the person I love" (i.e., by making the shiny magical rocks, obviously).

I know some people love to insert that jealousy aspect into angbang dynamic ("I waited 3 thousand years, being so loyal and hardworking, just for him to come back with eyes for someone else?! THAT’S SO UNFAIR"), and good for them, if it adds tension and drama they enjoy, then that’s great. But it's not something for my liking. What I see here it's Mairon watching Melkor return as a broken version of himself: he couldn't shapeshift anymore, he's physically injured, paranoid, and difficult to communicate with. On top of that, the very things that hurt him most are now set into his crown and worn like a symbol of his power.

I imagine Mairon thinking: "Yep… if that Feanor guy had never made them, maybe things wouldn’t be LIKE THIS. SO IT'S ALL HIS FAULT." Whose else, right. Definitely not Mairon’s dear husband, who has zero self-control when it comes to shiny objects, or the ability to just stop and think whether grabbing them was even worth it in the first place.

I know people also love to write Mairon as being jealous of Feanor in terms of skill, because Feanor created something so great, and Mairon never did anything quite like that. But I’m not sure how much I’m on board with that interpretation either. Yes, it’s canon that Mairon was a talented smith, one of Aule’s best, and that probably means he took pride in his creations. But he stopped being just a smith once he joined Melkor. He did so much more: witchcraft, commanding armies, breeding orcs, training werewolves, he was a very busy guy. And his final goal was to reshape the world to his (and Melkor’s) liking. Would he really be that upset over someone else surpassing him in craftsmanship alone? I’m not so sure. Maybe, on the contrary, Mairon might have been practical about it — thinking it would be useful to have someone that skilled on their side and to put his talents to use for the evil things they were doing

Again, I understand the appeal for drama ("I wish I could create something Melkor would treasure more than the Silmarils"), but that just doesn’t feel that compelling to me. It feels like it sort of belittles the bond that Mairon and Melkor had: with them enduring so many hardships together, always trusting each other, and holding on to the vision they believed in (committing war crimes and being a pain in the ass for everyone else)… And I don’t want that to be undermined or ruined beyond repair by any kind of jealousy.

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt3

It’s honeymoon time! Someone suggested jealous Sukuna and I wanted to put it in here but I think I’ll save it for the next installment.

Content warning that there will be infidelity(mentions of past and then a current scenario), attempted noncon(very short and not graphic)!

Bold indicates a different language used in conversation

Femme reader, i did include one line of a physical descriptor(hair)

part one --- part two -- part four

Traveling to your honeymoon made you almost as sick as Sukuna on your wedding night, something which you thought couldn’t be outdone. The man had spent all night in the restroom being nursed by his valets while you lay in another wing of the villa sleeping peacefully with the help of another spiced drink from your lady's maid.

“You’ll get used to the ship, I promise!” Sukuna chuckled as he walked into your bed quarters to see you laying face down on the bed. It was only your first day and while you’d be on the ship barely three days you weren’t sure how you would fare.

“Please, not now.” Turning your head slightly, you glared at Sukuna.

“Come with me, I know something that may help.” He held out his hand, laughing again when you refused to move even an inch. “If it doesn’t work I’ll carry you back here personally.” It took several minutes for you to muster up the strength to get up and follow him, gripping his bicep to keep yourself steady as the ship rocked back and forth. “I wish I had known this was going to be your first time on a ship, Your Grace. I would have prepared more for you!”

“N-not everyone can travel the world like you.” Coming to the upper deck you groaned at the sudden gust of air that blew into you. The water was thankfully calm and the weather was beautiful and you cursed yourself for not being able to properly enjoy it.

“This way.” Leading you to the front of the ship, Sukuna had you sit on a small bench overlooking the ocean. Handing you a glass of peppermint tea, he stood by your side and pointed out to the horizon. “Just look that way and I promise you’ll settle in no time.”

“Whatever you say.” You didn’t have a reason to question him, Sukuna was a sailor at one point for his country's navy and he even joked about putting on his old uniform for the journey. Sipping the tea slowly, the sound of the water slapping against the boat and the sails rustling became merely background noise and not something grating against your ears.

“How do you feel?” Sukuna asked, daring to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Better.” Taking a breath, you took stock of your body. There was still a lingering nausea but the dreadful feeling from before was gone and you could take looks away from the horizon from time to time. Sukuna slid his hand from your shoulder, letting it rest at his side before he excused himself.

Dinner on the ship was uneventful but what was to come after had your nerves on edge. Your mother had briefly talked about this aspect of married life but you knew it wasn’t enough to prepare you. Some of your already married girl friends spoke on it as well but you knew experiencing it for yourself would be something else entirely.

“Do you wish to be together tonight, Miss?” Sukuna spoke once the meal was over, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “Although I must warn you, once a woman has laid with me she falls in love.” Gone was the mystique you had and back was the memory of Sukuna the first time you saw him, wrapped up with another woman that you were certain wasn’t enjoying herself in the slightest.

“I’ve seen how you treat women in that way and I wish to do no such thing with you.”

“What? You can’t be serious.” He rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively at you. “That woman was nothing more than a whore.”

“Do not say such things!” You shouted back, anger quickly rising in you.

“Do you not hear me? I’m saying you’re different!”

“I do not believe you. Who’s to stop you from being cruel to me?”

“It is our wedding night!” Standing abruptly, the chair clattered to the ground as Sukuna rounded the table. “I am your husband!” Grabbing onto your jaw roughly, Sukuna ignored your screams of protest and your attempt to hit him away. “And you would do good to listen to me.”

“Get off of me!” Wrestling out of the chair, you attempted to push Sukuna to the side so you could leave but the man didn’t budge. Raising your hand to strike him didn’t work either as he caught both of your wrists and another struggle ensued.

“You should be grateful I haven’t done anything already!”

“Let me go!”

“You should be thanking me for protecting you against Naoya!”

“I’d rather him than you!” In a last ditch effort you brought your knee up, hitting Sukuna right between the legs. It gave you enough time to stomp on his foot and shove him to the ground. Looking down at him with tears streaming down your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything and instead fled from the room.

Rushing into the bedroom, you slammed the door closed and locked it, going so far as to push the chest of drawers in front of the door as well. There was no doubt that the servants aboard had heard everything and would certainly talk about the spectacle but hopefully none of them would say anything once you reached land.

The next two days at sea you avoided Sukuna like the plague, only leaving the bedroom to use the restroom and get a breath of air as soon as the sun began to rise. Sometimes you could hear him outside your room pacing and on occasion the maid will ask if you have anything you’d like to say to him but you decline every time.

“Finally, land!” Sukuna announced once the ship docked. This was the first time you were seeing each other since the first night and you know you looked worse for wear. You could hardly sleep the whole time, worried that Sukuna would force his way into the bedroom. Rushing off of the ship as soon as possible, you took in the city before you. It was certainly old and you could see a tall cathedral in the distance and smoking chimneys dotted the landscape around it.

Climbing into the carriage, you were grateful Sukuna rode separately. There was no doubt you’d start crying if you were in such a tight space with him. Riding through the city, you marveled at the different clothing you saw and the language you heard was something you’d been studying for a while now.

Riding to the city outskirts, the chateau you’d be staying at came into view. There was tasteful ivy and wisteria growing on the front and you had to ride over a bridge to get to it, with the river below sparkling in the sun. Many trees dotted the landscape and a garden sprawled out behind the property.

“Please show me to my room.” You made a beeline for the head maid of the estate once the carriage stopped, not wanting to be caught with Sukuna for even a moment. Her mouth opened to question you but thought better of it and stepped aside, gesturing you to follow her.

“Princess!” Sukuna called after you but you didn’t turn around.

“Please, walk faster.” You urged, making the maid nearly run to get to your room.

“N-now Your Highness, will you and the Prince be sharing a room or-”

“I want to be nowhere near him. Thank you.” Closing the door quickly, you could hear approaching footsteps and made sure to lock the door.

“Princess, open the door.” Sukuna knocked loudly, causing you to jump.

“Go away.” You replied with a shaky voice.

“Let me see you. I wish to apologize.”

“I do not wish to hear it.” You countered immediately, backing away from the door.

“But I-”

“Leave! Now!” The shrillness of your voice surprised even you and you could only imagine what Sukunas expression was.

“Fine.” He stormed away, a crash and something shattering an indication he was very upset.

June 3

My worst fears of marriage have come true. Sukuna is a monster, an absolute and irredeemable creature. I thought he could at least respect my wishes yet the way he attacked me on the ship says otherwise. I do not want to be alone with him although that will certainly cause people to talk about the state of our marriage.

If possible, I will make sure I always have a maid present on this honeymoon for my own peace of mind. I heard some servants mention a festival being held in our honor down at the city center at the end of this week, maybe by then my reservations about being with Sukuna will have changed.

What a way to start a marriage, is it not?

XX

Two days went by before your paths crossed again. Sukuna was usually out of the home riding or greeting acquaintances and you took the time to explore the chateau and get a tour from the head maid. Finding a quiet place to sit under a tree near the rivers edge, you settled into a small picnic and a book you’d gotten as a gift from one of your siblings.

The calmness of the water, the heat of the sun and the shade of the tree all helped to draw you so into your book you lost track of your surroundings. You paid no mind to the snapping of twigs or a rustle here and there, though you wished you had when you finally took a break and looked up and over your shoulder.

There Sukuna was, leaning against the tree trunk and watching you. He was in a black vest, no cravat to decorate his neck and you could see a small patch of skin from where his shirt was unbuttoned. He donned his familiar boots once more and his pants had many creases in them. Seeing your frightened expression, he raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m merely here to apologize.” He pushed himself away from the tree and took a few steps forward, stopping when he saw you visibly recoil. “Please, do not run away.” You held your tongue, fearing you’d either say something mean or scream.

“I let my emotions get the better of me on the ship and I should know better than to treat a lady in such a way.” Looking at the river, he sighed; Sukuna was not one for apologies, he simply ignored the issue until it blew over or had a valet do it for him. “I…apologize, Princess. I will not let such a thing happen again between us.”

You let the words sink in as you looked at him. His expression did appear genuine and you didn’t want to live in this discomfort forever.

“You are forgiven.” Your eyes dropped down to his lapel as you took a deep breath. “But the trust between us will need to be rebuilt.” Not that there had been a great deal in the first place, but what was there would need to be mended.

“Of course. I shall start by having the cook prepare your favorite meal for supper, it’s only right we dine together and discuss what our plans for this honeymoon should be.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess.” If Sukuna was honest, he was terribly uncomfortable right now. Being vulnerable in this way and apologizing was a foreign feeling to him that he did not want to dwell in any longer. Bowing his head, Sukuna turned and began to walk away and got a few feet away before he turned back. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“What…what is your favorite meal?”

At supper that evening, the conversation flowed much better than either of you expected. It was still stilted and paused in some places with neither of you knowing what to say next, but overall the mood was amicable and you even chuckled at something he said.

With your relationship slowly getting better, you both retired to the drawing room for the evening where you played a song on the harp and Sukuna read a newspaper from the town and sipped on an evening cocktail.

“My Lady, I’m sure the servants have told you about the festival to be held this week?” He spoke without looking after you finished the song.

“I’ve heard about it, yes. It’ll be held in Vauxhall Gardens if I’m not mistaken.” You looked at him hopefully, you desperately wanted to go. It was to be held in your honor after all and if you didn’t go it would surely sour the city's impression of you.

“You do not need to look at me like that, of course we will be in attendance.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he set the newspaper down and finally looked at you. “As if I would miss a chance to show off to the simple minded people of this city.” Ignoring the jab at the citizens, your mind raced with what you would wear and what all would be at the gardens.

As the evening came to an end, you and Sukuna parted ways to go to your separate bedrooms. He had started to follow you to your room but stopped at the look you gave him, slinking away to the room he’d been occupying. It would likely take a while for you to be comfortable enough for him to see you in complete undress and in your nightclothes.

The days leading up to the festival had you buzzing with excitement; you had a local guide take you around the city and you got to practice your language skills with the locals, many of whom were taken by the new Princess in their presence. You even met with some high trade merchants and their families with some going as far as to ask you to bless their children with good fortune.

The night of the festival, you and Sukuna donned clothing familiar to the area; forgoing your gloves, you slipped on a golden bracelet a merchant had given you and sat back as a silky bandana was tied around your head, holding some of your hair back as you’d seen other women do in the market you visited.

Coming to the foyer, you saw Sukuna was in linen pants and a dark red shirt with the sleeves done up around his elbows to expose his forearms. This was the first time you were seeing such a show of skin from a man and you were unable to draw your eyes away. You completely ignored the black vest and ornate lapel pin he had on, or the ascot he had on that was a similar pattern to your bandana.

“Princess, staring is rude.” Sukuna teased, snapping his finger in front of your face. Jumping out of your daydreams, a hot flush enveloped your cheeks and you clutched your reticule and fan to your chest.

“Let us depart.” You responded and nearly ran to the barouche. Sukuna’s laughter followed you out and he quickly joined you, settling into his seat as the hot summer air enveloped the two of you as you rode. Getting closer to the pleasure garden, you saw people of all social standing making their way as well with most tipping their hats or curtseying as you drove by.

“My Lady.” Sukuna made a show of getting out first and helping you out of the carriage and a small crowd formed off to the side to witness it. Smiling politely to them, you followed Sukunas lead and headed into the garden where a host of trumpets played upon your arrival.

“Oh my!” Right away, you spotted someone breathing fire and another swallowing swords. Making your way further in, there were many statues to behold and there was even a hot-air balloon exhibition that you stopped to marvel at for a time. “This is marvelous, Your Highness.”

“It truly is.” Nodding dumbly, Sukuna couldn’t take his eyes off the hot-air balloon and was about to offer to take you on it when a voice interrupted him.

“Your Highness!” A man's voice cut through the crowd and you both turned to see a few merchants with their wives. Curtsying slightly at them, you noticed how Sukuna had shifted to partially stand in front of you.

“Your Highness.” He said again to you, bowing deeply. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Edward, and behind me are Lord Phillip and Lord Willoughby.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You responded with a polite smile, looking at everyone in the group. The wives of these merchants were all trying their best not to stare at you but even you knew you’d find it quite difficult in the presence of royalty not to stare.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Sukuna asked with a very slight edge to his tone.

“We merely wish to congratulate the happy couple.” Lord Phillip spoke up, wringing his hands nervously as he did so.

“When we heard you would be taking your honeymoon in our city, we were overjoyed.” Lord Willoughby's wife took a few steps toward you in an attempt to engage in conversation. Taking a quick glance at Sukuna, he gave you no disparaging looks so you accepted the advance.

“And what a beautiful city it is!” You gushed, allowing the woman to bring you into the fray of wives. As your new group began to walk again, you fell into step with the women and walked a bit slower to truly engage in conversation.

Stopping to look at a tightrope walker, you nearly fainted at seeing them walk across so graciously and with confidence you could never muster if you were up that high. As the spectacle went on, you couldn’t help but catch wind of the conversation in front of you.

“Your Highness, will we be seeing you later tonight at the parlor? There are a few…ladies wishing to see you again.”

“Rest assured gentlemen, I shall give them what they so desire.” Chuckling at the thought, Sukuna made a show of brushing off his vest. “They’ll be begging for more until the sun rises.” The conversation was certainly not for your ears and you tried in vain to ignore it and the way the men laughed amongst themselves.

“Do not let this sully your good mood, Your Highness.” One of the women whispered to you, fanning your face in an attempt to dry the tears you didn’t know had fallen. “It is something that comes with married life in every class.” Quickly pulling out your handkerchief, you fought hard to keep your breathing even.

“E-excuse me a moment.” Making a hasty retreat, you didn’t dare turn to look and see if Sukuna had noticed. It was foolish of you to think you could truly be happy in this marriage and that there could be a sense of trust between the two of you. Your first conversation with Sukuna flashed into your head, one where he specifically stated he would not belong to just one woman.

“Oh, please excuse me, Miss.” As a consequence of you not watching where you were going, you ended up running right into someone and nearly falling. With their arm outstretched you managed to right yourself before any mishap happened.

“Please forgive me, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You replied, looking at the man you had bumped into. He wore a darker version of what Sukuna had on, black on black clothing making it almost impossible to distinguish him from the night sky if it weren’t for the lamps lighting the garden. Upon making eye contact, the man gasped and bowed immediately.

“My apologies, Your Highness! I did not realize it was you. I am Lord Megumi Fushiguro, I am a merchant that deals in the high trade of wine.” He did not stand back up as he spoke, making sure to keep his head lower than yours. “I do hope you are enjoying the festival, my warehouse supplied all of the refreshments tonight.”

“I…I am.” Raising your hand, you motioned for him to stand at his full height once more. Megumi had spiky black hair that went in all directions even though you could tell he desperately wished it to be slicked down with the way he kept petting at it. He had a lapel pin of a jeweled raven, something that immediately caught your eye along with his striking features.

“If I may be so forward, Your Highness, do you wish to walk with me? I see you are unattended and a lady of your stature should not be walking alone.” 

“I would enjoy that.” With a gentle smile on your face, you fell into step with Megumi. He didn’t speak much at all, instead walking with his hands behind his back and taking in the sights of the festival. With the silence he provided, you tried to comfort yourself.

“Your Highness, is everything alright? Your expression is most troubled.” Megumi asked, stopping to grab you a ratafia and some zeppole. Taking a sip of the drink, your brows rose high upon your face at tasting how strong it was. Megumi couldn’t help the chuckle that came out upon seeing it.

“I do not wish to delve too deep but it seems…” You hesitated and looked around you and at Megumi's face. You weren’t sure how much - if anything - to divulge to this man and how much would be heard by others. “The Prince and I have had a disagreement tonight.” Pursing your lips after you took another sip, you were glad that all Megumi did was nod at that information.

“Very well. Let us not dwell on this and let it tarnish the night. Come, shall we see the zoo?” He began to walk and you followed, grateful for his willingness to change the topic of conversation.

“These animals are amazing!” You’d never seen a collection such as this before, there were animals here that you’d only read about. Elephants and ostriches, flamingos and snakes - and you were even allowed to touch some of them. Glancing over at Megumi, there were a few times you caught him looking at you fondly and when one of the zookeepers went to put a snake on your arm he held you gingerly at the elbow.

You found conversation to be easy with Megumi even though you could tell he preferred not to say much. Any questions you had were answered, like how many siblings he had - one sister, Your Highness. Did he enjoy the arts - horrible at drawing but I love to read, Your Highness. What his favorite color was - sorry to say it’s black, Your Highness, I know it is quite drab. If he was on the marriage market or not - I suppose I am, though my efforts are more spent on getting my sister a match, Your Highness.

“Lord Fushiguro, I thank you so very much for being my company for tonight.” Your words slurred just the slightest as you spoke and although you wouldn’t dare hang onto him for support, you wished you could put your arm in Megumis and let him help keep you upright. Recounting the drinks you had, it didn’t feel like you should have been this drunk; but you chalked it up to the country’s alcohol just naturally being stronger than you were used to.

“It is truly my pleasure, Your Highness.” Even though Megumi had the same amount of alcohol as you did he appeared completely unaffected, walking with his head held high. As the two of you went, you realized that the area had become less populated and the buzz of the festival was beginning to dull.

“It seems we have wandered a bit too far.” Looking around, you realized you were in a more wooded area of the park, something your mother always forbade you to do. A dark walk in that part of the park will leave your reputation in tatters. “Let us turn back now.”

But turning to Megumi, you saw the look in his eyes had shifted. Taking a step back, you gasped at feeling your back hit a tree and Megumi’s hand planted itself right near your head.

“Your Highness, I enjoyed our time together so much I fear I do not want it to end.” His voice had dropped lower and he dared to bring his face closer to yours. Turning your head away, you felt your nerves prick and you brought your fan up to your face to try and shield yourself.

“Y-yes but-”

“There is no need to be shy, not here.” Megumi attempted to remove your fan but you held strong and he did not push it; something you were grateful for. If it had been Sukuna, you know much more would have happened already. “I know how he treats you, Your Highness.” That admittance made you snap to attention.

“Please, do not say anything.” You pleaded, lowering your fan slightly.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, you must understand. It is deplorable how the Prince treats his new wife and I do not stand for it.” Megumi tried again to remove your fan and you let him, let him tuck it into your reticule. He linked the tips of your fingers together and you gasped; this was the first time you were touching the bare hand of a man that you weren’t related to and it sent shivers up your spine.

“Your Highness, will you allow me to show you how I would treat you?” Megumi’s voice was now a whisper against your lips and you barely whispered a yes before he was kissing you. It was gentle and slow, allowing you to ease into the feeling of your second kiss.

You slowly brought your other hand up to rest on Megumi’s shoulder as he deepened the kiss, his unoccupied hand daring to grip your waist through your dress. Tilting your head to the side you let him kiss down your neck and to the middle of your chest. Megumi let out a soft groan when your fingers slowly tangled into his hair and he shifted, daring to start lifting up the skirt of your dress.

“Tell me to stop, Your Highness. Tell me and I will.” Megumi half begged, his lips desperate against yours. You shook your head in response - you weren’t sure you could say anything at the moment. Palming over your undergarments, Megumi’s hand was quickly reaching the apex of your thighs, something that was lighting your skin on fire.

“Lord Fushiguro…” You sighed quietly and subtly shifted your legs a bit farther apart for him. Just as his fingers began to inch further towards your heat, Megumi was ripped away from you with a shout.

“You fucking bastard!” Even in the dim light you could tell it was Sukuna who had caught you and was now gripping Megumi by the collar as they tustled on the ground.

“Y-Your Highness, run away!” Megumi yelled, rolling over and managing to hold Sukuna off from punching him.

“Stop!” You cried, daring to get closer to try and pull them apart.

“Leave!” Megumi shouted once more, enraging Sukuna now that he could understand.

“You tried to take advantage of her, you devil!” He yelled and the pair quickly dissolved into another wrestling match on the ground. You could see both landed a few hits on the other and you couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt.

“Lord Fushiguro!” You fell to your knees at the sigh of Sukuna landing a punch square on the man’s jaw, knocking him senseless. Sukunas breathing was labored as he stood above the man, brushing off the dirt he’d accumulated.

“You. Never- never see again.” His words in the language were broken and he glanced at you for a moment. “You, never go again.” Ignoring the threatening words, you tried to go to Megumi to assess his injuries.

“Let me see him.” You fought against Sukuna, the way he held you back so easily frustrated you. “Let me see him!” Reaching out an arm, you groaned as Sukuna hugged your arms to your chest.

“Your Highness.” Megumi raised his head slightly, giving you a pained smile while a purple bruise was blooming on his face. “Please, do not be upset.” In any other situation you’d find Megumi’s accent delightfully charming and wish to hear it a hundred times over. “Go home and rest.”

“Silence.” Sukuna growled, spitting on Megumi as he walked by with you in tow. It was difficult to compose yourself enough to get through the gardens and back to the barouche but somehow you managed with only the grace the Queen's diamond could summon.

The ride back to the chateau was disgusting with the tension that filled the space. The air had cooled now, helping to dry the sweat that had collected on both of you during your outing. As soon as you stepped foot inside, Sukuna cornered you against the wall.

“Explain to me what happened.” He ordered, not being gentle as he shoved you to stop you from escaping.

“Do not handle me in such a manner.” You bit back with a shove of your own. The two of you stared at each other, eyes dripping with venom and it was you that broke the tension first. “I am merely playing the part of a royal, am I not?”

“Be quiet.”

“No! It was you that told me this is how royalty does it! You that said you would never be faithful to me.” Your face was uncomfortably hot and your shouting pushed Sukuna back some. “You set the tone for this marriage and I am simply following your lead.” Sniffling back angry tears, the vision of Megumi beaten and bloody on the ground flashed in front of your eyes. “You have no right to be angry when it was you who made the rules we are to follow.”

Sukuna sighed angrily, running a hand through his hair. What you said was true no matter how much he wanted to deny it. It was he that told you how your married life would be and although he expected you to be upset, he didn’t expect for you to also do the same to him.

“You will never see him again, I hope you understand that.” Was what he said in response. You merely shook your head in disagreement, pulling your fan out to cool yourself.

“You have no right to say that when you will surely go to that parlor tonight as you have done every other night since our arrival.”

“I am your husband-”

“And I am your wife!” You countered, tossing your fan to the ground. “Or does that mean nothing to you? Am I merely just the Queens diamond that you were so happy to pluck and place upon a shelf?”

Both of your breathing was labored and you could practically see steam rolling off Sukuna as he tried to think of what to say next. His hands curled and uncurled, his shoulders rolled and that was when you finally took notice of the bloody lip and blossoming bruise on the side of his neck. With a cut above the eyebrow and remnants of a bloody nose, he looked much like a young boy that had been caught in a fight and not a regal crown prince.

“I do not have to explain myself to you.” His eyes were trained on the floor and he dared not move them. “You are right, it was indeed I that said I would never be faithful. But I see now that those words have hurt us both and…and I wish for that all to stop now.” Finding the courage to look at your face, makeup ruined by all the tears and your face scrunched up in disbelief, Sukuna sighed again. “I do not want to break your heart.” That earned him a slap on the face, something that shocked him so terribly he stumbled back and knocked into a table in the foyer.

“Heartbreak is one thing, my ego is another.” Shaking off your stinging hand, you picked up your discarded fan. “If what you say is true, then I accept it. I do not want this partnership to continue in such a way.” Fixing your clothes, you froze at what Sukuna said next.

“You know Princess, I quite liked you slapping me like that.” He chuckled and raised his brow, biting his lip as you made eye contact. You stammered to make a response but found no words were coming forward and that made Sukuna laugh even more. “Go get ready for bed, Princess. I’d like for us to go out to the country tomorrow.”