#the most boring weddings in the universe

[ariaglassviolin]

Whoah actual picture of a Gallean bride

I call this hairstyle ‘ticking time buns’

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson ships in order of how toxic you should write them as adults in an established relationship imo (no batcest and we can discuss the harem at a later time)

Least

Dick X Wally: this is the quintessential friends to lovers story it’s adorable. Naturally a lil bit of toxicity bc nightwing is not a healthy person but still the ratio is 99% cute and 1% angst as adults. Feel free to angst away with the Robin/KF thing

Worlds where this is cute: young justice, earth prime pre Wally meeting Linda.

Dick X Kori: listen to me, if you ignore all the shitty writing (yes the babs wedding thing) they r perfect <3. The only person who I believe can be the lights light ya know. The broke up because they both took hits they couldn’t recover from but they still love each other and they’re my favorite canon pairing they should get back together and have a kid and be a cute lil family.

Worlds where this is cute: TT, Earth prime, DCAU, injustice, titans tomorrow, Lego Batman (every single earth actually)

Dick X Zatanna: cute, childhood crush turned sweethearts turned friends nothing to say here I just don’t think it would be toxic

Worlds where this is cute: young justice

Worlds where this should never happen: all the rest (she dated his dad)

Dick X Joey: I love them so I’m biased their relationship is on par with Dick and Wally taking field trips in the 80s. Also this is joeys most popular ship and that makes me laugh. BUT ANYWAY they’re just very homoerotic and I feel like they respect each other enough the toxicity would be on the lower side.

Worlds where this is cute: literally anytime before he possesses his dad’s body.

Times this is concerning: post possessing nightwings body (anyone remember that happening I just ignore it now, cuz I hate the whole evil Joey thing but if you wanna take this ship from 30% toxic to 140% write it post possession with the dude who had autonomy issues)

Dick x Kara: I just feel like the hero worship would get in the way a little bit

Worlds where this is cute: worlds finest

Worlds where this isn’t: the rest

Dick x Roy: I love them sm ur honor (despite how low I’m putting this, it’s one one my top ships) listen Dick and Roy adore each other and would die for each other, but the baggage?? The years of expectations?? The fights??? The fact that Dick gets more and more closed off when he’s mad usually but him and Roy in the same room and fists fly?? But the only people who can talk to Dick when he’s spiraling are Roy and Donna. Like ROY HARPER is one of Dick people!! You don’t understand how much I love how they can hurt each other while loving each other so so so much. They cause me pain. I don’t believe they’d ever mellow out Dick and Wally tho bc they’re whole relationship is heated they have never had a chill emotion about each other in their history of being characters that exist in the same space.

Worlds where this is cute: literally any world where the titans exist/have existed with speedy and Robin as core members

Worlds where no?: new 52 (I hate new 52 and ignore it tho so no universe sucks bc new 52 isn’t real and can’t hurt me)

Dick X Harley Quinn: see I hated this ship and I hate it in canon but I once read a fic that was good enough I now ship it on the dl and think it would be good for Harley to be with someone who can be a safety net. But like this is AU rare pair type shit and it’s low bc I literally cannot picture a canon universe where this isn’t the most toxic thing ever.

Worlds where yes: DCAU (AU) not even the canon one like the AU of the AU that is the DCAU (take a shot Everytime I say AU)

Dick X Shawn Tsang: I’m sorry yall Shawn was such a boring character I forgot she existed but I remember that she broke up with him after he lost his memory cuz she thought he was ghosting her and like not only does it feel like she just existed to give dick a love interest. Also this comic featured the character death wing and so it’s so low not bc the ship sucks except it does bc why dick?? Are you dating someone who hates heroes?? Why r u like this??? Stopppp but also bc imo the ship has a white bread type of content that is toxic to me personally and that’s more important.

Dick x Bea Bennet: I loved them sm in the beginning, best part of the Ric Grayson arc and then they added the spyral ties and made her a pirate and tbh that ruined it for me. Dick and Bea only work as a cute relationship if Bea is a way out or a window into the outside world like something to ground the man who is always trying to get his feet off the ground. It would be interesting. But now she’s just another another relationship where he didn’t know who he was dating and tbh I don’t think he’d be down for that post literally everything that’s ever happened to him romantically after the age of 16

Dick Babs: yes it’s this low, no I will not change it. It should be lower but I used to ship this so it’s only my fond memories keeping it this high. Babs slept with his father after dating him in at least 2 universes. Dick left Gotham for freedom and she quite literally drags him back Everytime they’re together it feels like about 30 years of Dicks character development is erased. And let’s not talk about Barbara used to be a congress woman Gordon. They deaged her to make her a decent love interest for someone who was a kid when she was running for congress. And because of the fact their characters don’t naturally balance out the way some of his other canon ships do (Bea, Shawn, KORI(the best canon ship imo), hell even Helena) it leads to the characters becoming flanderizations of themselves. Dick is a loveable himbo whose only defining characteristic is his ass and I hate to say it Barbara Gordon literally just turns into female Bruce and I hate it so much but genuinely read though some of their older stuff it’s like..ugh. Anyway I hate this ship I think it’s bad for both of them and while I’m not babs biggest fan I still like her and she and Dick should be best friends who get drunk on weekends and shit talk the bats and their respective teams (titans, birds of pray)

Dick X Helena bertinelli: yall wtf is this ship, if this is your main ship? Why? Tell me? Like what?? Helena??? Esp prime earth Helena?? He has more chemistry with midnighter than her (but we are not discussing the harem so I will remain silent)

Now the most toxic ship that isn’t incestuous is so obvious bc no one has ever pictured this ship with a modicum of health in it except its creator (derogatory) I’m 99% sure every single fic tagged this also has the domestic violence tag

Dick X Catalina Flores. Yeah no a billion times no this shit is so toxic the jack Napier fell into it and became the joker. This shit so toxic it only serves as a trauma boat for another person to swoop in and get him out I hate this so much.

Now dick is an old character so he has about a billion other relationships. But these are either the recent ones (Shawn, Bea) or the ones that have a lot of ao3 clout (birdflash) or something that makes my heart soft (dick and Joey) plus his most iconic 2 pairing I will not be getting into characters like Daphne, Clancy or Betty or anything else or the creepy ones like the fact he’s had shit with both catwoman and taila.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[i-am-baechu]

✎ᝰ. I Feel Pretty ⁞ J. Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook takes Y/N to try on wedding dress as a surprise date

Caution: Profanities. smut warning. make outs, and Blowjob

Part of ‘ His Fan Girl universe

It's been awhile since Y/N saw Jungkook and she wouldn't say to him but she missed him. She knew he was busy with his release of his album and promoting but she missed her boyfriend fiancé. She still used to calling him her fiancé, it was crazy to think about it. She was just a normal person engaged to someone like Jungkook. It was just a crazy feeling that she didn't know how to explain.

Y/N was in her work office sending an email when there was a knock on the door. She glanced at her clock and raised her eyebrow, Who could that be? "Come in." When the door opened, she jumped out of her chair when she saw the familiar figure with roses in his hand, "Kookie.~"

He set the flowers on her cabinet and opened his arms, "Y/N."

She wrapped her arms around his waist as they went back and forth, "Jungkook, you didn't tell me you were coming over."

"I wanted to surprise you. It's been awhile since I've surprised you."

She pulled away and smiled at him, "I needed this surprise. I was getting bored at work if I'm being honest."

Jungkook raised his eyebrow at this, "You getting bored at work? That never happens."

She glanced at his eyebrow pricing and looked down at her shoes, "Anyone can get bored at something...it happens."

"Well, I'm here to save you."

She looked up with a confused look, "What are you talking about? I have two hours-"

"I already planned everything out." He grabbed her bag on the back of her door and glanced at her jacket on her chair, "Hurry and get your things. I have another surprise."

She shook her head at him but she couldn't stop the smile from forming, "Always full of surprises..."

The two quickly made their way through the private part of the office and headed to Jungkook's car. She sat in the car and looked at him with a curious look, "Where are we going?"

"That would ruined the surprise."

The car was filled with soft music as Y/N was drifting off and Jungkook couldn't help himself from glancing at her. She looked like an angel with the way sun hit her face. He was actually nervous about this date. Y/N has mentioned to him multiple times that she hated her body. Something he didn't understand. She was beautiful with every stretch mark or rolled, she was his everything. The most beautiful women (besides his mom).

He parked the car and shook her leg gently causing her to moan, "Babe, we're here."

Y/N wiped her eyes gently and let out a small yawn out, "That took a long time. Where are we?"

"For an appointment."

"An appointment?"

Here she was standing in the dressing room surround by white dresses that were so delicate that she was scared to touch them. Jungkook was right, this was a surprise. She touched each tulle skirt and she glanced at the mirror with a blank expression. She wasn't sure how she was feeling at the moment. It was a surreal moment to be in this room with fabric that symbolize love and so much more.

There was a knock on the door and a worker came in with one more dress with a smile, "I got a dress that I think you would like."

Y/N nodded her head with a nervous look, "I-I'm not looking for a dress...I guess-"

"Don't worry. He already told us that you just wanted to get a feel of wedding dresses. There's no pressure on picking out the right dress, have fun with it.

Y/N nodded her head and she looked at the dress with wide eyes, "Th-This is so pretty."

The worker smiled at this and nodded her head, "Jungkook picked this out for you. He thought you would like it."

Jungkook was wrong, she loved it. It was a embroidered tiered ballerina dress that had crystals throughout out the skirt. It was a simple dress but when you go closer to look, there was so much more. Her fingers gently touched the embroidered and looked up at the worker, "Can-Can I try it on? Also can you get Jungkook?"

The worker walked outside and smiled at Jungkook who was on his phone with a bored look, "Mr. Jeon."

He sat up and looked at the worker with a confused look, "Where's Y/N?"

"She wanted you to come inside the room."

"Is everything okay?"

"She wanted to show you the dress in private."

The worker took him into her room and when he opened the door, his world stopped. Y/N was smiling at herself in the mirror and she looked like she was having fun. Her fingers touching the edges of the skirt as she twirled in the mirror. She turned and saw Jungkook. She stopped twirling and smiled at him, "I feel pretty."

Jungkook closed the door and slowly walked towards her, "Say that again..."

She looked down at her socks and then back at him with a soft smile, "I feel pretty."

He slowly walked towards her and she stood there with a smile that screamed pure happiness. She looked up at him and he couldn't help myself with her innocent eyes. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers causing her eyes widened but she accepted the kiss. He slowly walked back to the mirror and picked her off from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let out a small moan when he kissed her neck, "Jung-Jungkook, we can't do this."

"I just want to focus on you. It will be quick." He gripped her ass through the dress and she bit her lip to stop her moan, "My wife feels pretty and I need her to remember this feeling."

He went back to her lips and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He couldn't stop himself, seeing her in this dress was making him go crazy. This was his future wife. No one told him that he would experience this feeling but he was glad he was figuring it out with Y/N.

He finally moved away from Y/N and he wished he had a camera. Her lips were shinning under the light of the dressing room and she was out of breathe, everything about this was perfect. He pushed some hair away from her face and kissed her forehead, "You have to be quiet."

"I-I...I can do that."

"Just pull my hair if you get uncomfortable."

He went on his knees and went under the skirt with a smirk on his lips. He pulled down the white cotton and was met with the wet mess that he created. He leaned forward and started sucking at her clit. Y/N leaned her head against the glass as she let out a small moan, "Jung-Jungkook."

He gripped her ass as he was sucking and licking her pussy, it was as if he was having his last meal. She gripped his hair as he continued, "W-We need to stop Jungkook. I-I can't get this dress dirty."

He lifted the skirt higher and blew on her warm hole making her shudder at the feeling, "Hold the skirt higher."

She nodded her head and now she was completely bare for anyone to see. Usually she would feel embarrassed but at this moment she couldn't care who saw her. She spread her legs apart and Jungkook couldn't help but smirk at her movement. He brought his right hand up and two fingers entered her as she shuddered at the feeling. He looked up at her and he didn't even notice that she took her scrunchie out of her hair and put it in her mouth. It was hot.

He moved his fingers at recored speed as his tongue continued to tease her clit. She felt her whole body get hot and the scrunchie fell from her mouth as she let out a louder moan, "Jung-Jungkook I'm about to come-Oh my g-god."

He took this as a sign and gently bit her clit making her eyes widen at the sudden joyable pain. Jungkook continued to do what he was doing but he was shocked to see Y/N like this. His only ever made her squirt once and he wasn't sure how he did that in the first place. He sucked all of the juice that he could suck up, this was everything he wanted.

Her knees buckled and he quickly moved to catch her. She was breathing heavily in his arms and Jungkook kissed the side of her head, "Baby, are you okay?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a tired smile, "I-I'm o-okay."

He glanced down at the dress and smirked, "The dress is dry."

She let out a laugh and shook her head, "What came over you?"

"Seeing you in a wedding dress, I just can't wait to marry you Y/N."

They both locked eyes and they leaned forward for a quick kiss. She looked at the door and looked at him, "Jungkook, we need to leave...we can't get caught."

"He kissed her forehead, "We need to get dinner."

"I have to clean your mess."

Her face got red and she smacked his shoulder, "S-Shut up."

"Can you say it one more time?"

"Say what?"

He kissed her shoulder and smiled at her, "You know what."

"I feel pretty."

[redrandomposts]

till narrowly missing ivan in every universe, either literally or figuratively, makes me giggle and cry at the same time AUUHSHSJSH if he was a regressor/reincarnator and og/alnst!till was watching his later incarnations, mans would be bald from tearing his hair out in frustration

"LOOK BACK MF LOOK BACK, YOU JUST MISSED HIM"

"THATS NOT WHAT HE MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT"

"NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO HAVE YOUR NTH SEXUALITY CRISIS, IVAN IS MOVING AWAY TOMORROW. MOVE IT"

and imagine his previous incarnations from other failed lifetimes watching the current lifetime with him and theyre all in the same frustrated state 😭

"can we PLEASE have one lifetime where we dont end up breaking his heart ? can we PLEASE—"

— 🌦️

HAHAHAHAHA LMAOOOOO

doomed lovers and tills watching it all happen, kicking and screaming

everytime an incarnation pops up in their little hell, he is kicked and beaten up and treated as a less-than-human being until the next one meets ivan. and then they're too focused watching how till (yes, that's you, a dumbass) misses every smile and glimmer of eyes and heartbreak that ivan shows.

"what the fuck?! what's he doing?! ivan is right there, don't go hitting on her - fuck! who is that idiot!"

"that idiot is you! do you remember how you made ivan your best man at your wedding?!"

"says the one had an arranged marriage with him then went to war and came home in love with a nurse!"

"all of you are idiots!"

and none of the tills know og till's backstory. most of the time he's writing songs and playing the guitar, as all of them do, but in a more extreme way. there's a little library with all the songs the tills have made, each shelf a different life. og till's is a whole bookshelf, but the ones about ivan only starts after he first appeared here.

(there's also the songs each and every ivan has made about till, for till, to till. those are treated much better than the ones the tills haphazardly throws into their respective shelves. they're encased in gold and glass, just as unattainable as ivan seems to be.)

extra reactions according to some of my aus (except it's all the bad ends and ooc??):

omegaverse

"...what the fuck?"

"WHAT'S A PHEROMONE?! ALPHA? THAT'S SO CRINGEY? WTF"

"GUYS!!! IVAN CAN BE PREGNANT-"

"-SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP-"

"holy fuck"

"it was indeed a fuck"

"did you know ivan could moa-"

"fucking hell we're all tills we're all here we all know!"

"BLOOD! GET A TISSUE YOU FREAK-"

"HALF OF US HAVE NOSEBLEEDS WDYM"

"please please please till hE IS PREGNANT-"

"..."

"what the fuck."

"HE'S DEAD?"

"guys i don't ever wanna get ivan pregnant if that's what's going to happen"

android au

"...he owns ivan..?"

"THAT'S NOT FAIR?? WHAT DID HE EVER DO TO DESERVE IVAN??"

"surely they fall in love, right?"

"don't fucking jinx it, you moron!"

"ivan's so cute... look! he's cutting the veggies into flowers!"

"hey! till! say thank you to ivan!!"

"ugh, can't he just get out the studio so i can see ivan??"

"till, can't you just be a stay at home musician?!"

"aww!! aren't those flowers in the stitching?"

"oh my god ivan hand sewed him clothes?!"

"that's not fair! ivan! you can't just give things to the idiot! or else!! ...or else."

"...you fucking jinxed it!!! ivan!!! you can't die!"

"how'd i know that they'd just shoot and never stop shooting?"

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM??"

"i'll fucking BEAT THEM UP I SWEAR."

"??? why's he only just checked the cameras now since he got ivan?"

"...ivan's voice is so heavenly."

"..."

zombie au

"is it another boring one? haven't we already seen till and ivan have normal lives and drift apart or something else?"

"maybe this time, till will..."

"shut UP! CROW'S MOUTH, I SWEAR"

"nevermind that is nOT NORMAL FUCK"

"OH MY GOD HE IS ROTTING AND MOVING??"

"IVAN GET AWAY FROM THERE -"

"...ivan?"

"FUCK! HE DID IT AGAIN!"

"TILL YOU FUCKER GO BACK FOR HIM!!"

"...at least we still have ivan."

"...and till knows he loves ivan."

"...and they kissed."

".....oh fucking hell, why are you so happy?! ivan's basically till's dog! till doesn't deserve him!"

"well, as long as they cure ivan, they'll be together for real, right?"

"..."

"YOU FUCKING JINXED IT-"

"WHY'D THAT RANDO JUST SHOOT IVAN???

mermaid au

"oh my god he's a fish -"

"- ivan looks like a prince!"

"??? how can you be so rude to ivan!"

"why are his thoughts so weird? ivan's a human, not some pearl! he has dignity!"

"he's much better than some pearl, too."

"till knows he loves ivan, right??? surely??? with those thoughts..."

"i wanna see ivan's eyes...."

"i wanna see ivan's smile..."

"fuck! till, just speak to him god damnit!"

"oh my god!!! ivan!!!"

"??? where's his fishy parts?? ow, don't hit me-"

"...he looks so fine."

"hey! he's sixteen! you are definitely not sixteen, you fucking homewrecker!!"

"homewrecker?! i didn't cheat!!"

"you wrecked your and ivan's house life!"

"what?"

"where'd the letter come from??"

"how's there sea foam???"

"IVANNNN!"

"HE'S DEAD? JUST LIKE THAT?"

"HE DESERVED MORE YOU FUCKER-"

===

anyways im going to edit my masterlist to be better ig

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Some Surprises

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

NOV 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Fourever You (Thai Thurs YT) ep 5 of 16 - I love this show, but I absolutely hate the main couple's communication style. Or complete lack of communication style. I really hope the other couples are not gonna be this bad and it’s just because this one is leaning into the worst of BL archetypes. But I’m not confident. Poor Ter dating Hill put a big old target on his back. Earth being a dramatic stressed gay queen was peak comedy tho. Apparently the good kisses are only on WeTV (I am annoyed) so props to the giffers who keep me supplied. You're doing the BL gods work.

I suddenly realized, after the bullying sequence, that one of the reasons I’m liking this so much is it reminds me of early Japanese yaoi. There’s something about the dynamics of the characters and the way they're reacting to situations that’s not very Thai BL feeling. And if I think of this is more JBL, I forgive it. Or maybe that’s just why I’m liking it so much despite its flaws? Difficult to understand my own feels about this show.

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - I don’t like this new evil-bonkers rich kid character and whatever is going on with Jack and Rose and that whole story. It’s boring. And then my brain short circuited. No further thoughts... just War in a wife beater. 

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 7 of 15 - Phun's bitch face really is epically wonderful. I kinda enjoy everybody ribbing the two of them because they have no idea what’s actually going on. I'm chronicling my experience with 2024 as compared to 2014 here.

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 9 of 12 - Omg cutest boyfriends EVER. I don’t even mind how cheesy their bf era is. Does this lull jive with the rest of the story? Nope. But ya know that’s GMMTV’s thing these days, flailing during the final act.

Perfect 10 Liners (Thai Sun YouTube?) ep 1 of 24 - Pretty standard Thai BL university fair. I am hoping it’s better than ForceBook’s previous offering. Yet another sniff test. Is this the trope of the year? Meanwhile, they also deployed the crash into me trope in episode one. Who do they think they are? Taiwan?

New is directing this uni BL with a massive cast + massive run time. It's an endurance test ya'll - we will be watching this until APRIL of 2025! Su su na.

Every You Every Me (Thai Mon Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - I really like that they had the bandwidth to give us a little side couple with this installment. Fun crumbs. Meanwhile, the thing with the shirt in front of the mirror was extremely sexy. This installment was very sad though. And, of course, I’m not happy about it. To top it all off, next week is musical themed, so you know I’m disgruntled about it. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

See Your Love (Taiwan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 13 - Aw spoiled neglected rich boy wants to be cared for and spoiled honestly. I do love them. Also tiny idiot syndrome is spreading. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 6 of ? - The side couple (teacher student, hyung romance but he’s using em) interesting. Not sure how I feel about them. The subs are so bad it’s largely incomprehensible but I’m still enjoying it for no defensible reason. 

My Damn Business (Korea Sat YT) eps 5 of 7 - I love that our uke can be such a little shit. I love it when a tsundere has some serious snark and attitude to back his petulance up. Also liquid courage. At least we got to the root of the tsundere. Also neck kisses and cuddles! 

Eccentric Romance (Korea Weds Viki) eps 7-8 of 12 - Oooo, cute kiss. Drunken but adorable. I do like it when they use older Korean actors in KBL, they actually know how to kiss. Has the kiss saved this show? Possibly. I’m shallow. 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 7 of 10 eps - Our con man is such a good little homemaker. And it’s sexy yukata time! Love this trope. 

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Same plot as the Thai original, only from Japan. Very similar so far. I hope Rei is a bit more smart and Arashi is a bit less of a sleaze. I still get too much secondhand embarrassment and my mame alert is blaring.  I'm wary.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days (China Sun iQIYI) eps 1-2 - Triggers for child abuse, alcoholism. Two artists, one an abused rich kid and the other a tough scrappy poor kid, in the same art prep school. I of course adore the side couple of the much younger kid and the older teacher. Oh, I do like it. But it's CBL, I'm very scared as to where it might go.

Bad to Bed (Taiwan Sat YouTube) ep 1 of 10 - Influencer Wan Xiong suffers from insomnia, it’s a physical and mental battle. As he tried to find a solution, he encounters five boys along the way. I'm putting this on the list because it's airing and I just found out about it but I didn't have time to watch it yet. I hear it's v weird.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) 10 eps - Supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - I DNF'd at ep 7, I couldn't make it. I am weak. Life is hard enough right now, this show is making it harder. It’s not what I want from my entertainment.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (Korea Thurs Gaga) eps 4 of 8 - I put this one on pause. It's too heavy for me right now. I'll wait to know if the ending is hard fought happy (and then watch) or not (and won't finish). Sorry all, rough times this side of the screen.

Random I watched it

Vending Machine Sabi Koi AKA Can I Buy Your Love From A Vending Machine AKA Sono Koi, Jihanki de Kaemasu ka? (Japan 2023) - This show is utterly adorable, impossibly awkward, and kinda old fashioned. About a cute nerdy little office worker (he's out!) who has a big'ol crush on the tall hulking vending machine guy. They fall in love. And that’s it. And it’s charming. There’s some first name eroticism, because Japan, and there's emphasis on communication, which is so not Japan, but turns this into an organically loving and talkative relationship. There’s a bit of an age gap, and our office cutie may or may not have a muscles fetish (the hot bod not the shellfish) because (if I’ve told you once I’ve told you 1 million times) Japan always goes kinky. And you know what, I loved it. 9/10

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

November BL:

11/4 Our Youth AKA Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu (Japan Mon Gaga?) 11 eps - Minase was an exemplary high school student who hates Hirukawa, head bully and top delinquent. But then Minase uncovers Hirukawa’s secret and the two get intimate.

11/15 Caged Again (Thai Fri WeTV) 10 eps - Penguin escapes zoo by turning into a human. Gets trapped again and a panther falls in love with him.

11/17 Your Sky (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - Due to an unforeseen situation, a naive freshman and the campus’s popular senior agree to pretend to be a couple - but their fake deal begins to generate real feelings.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Honor the crumbs indeed. This pair is so much crumbs it's practically dust. (Love Sick 2014)

God he is so stupidly in love.

(lask week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[egcdeath]

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday. 

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core. 

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either. 

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his. 

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back. 

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife. 

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl. 

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get. 

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts. 

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable. 

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be. 

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other. 

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues. 

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them. 

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement. 

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business. 

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy.  “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face. 

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night. 

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown. 

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.  

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.  

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.  

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language. 

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup. 

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems. 

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out. 

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception. 

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married. 

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat. 

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you. 

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago. 

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good. 

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you. 

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response. 

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort. 

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago. 

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband. 

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible. 

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman. 

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life. 

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you. 

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you. 

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you. 

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand. 

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically. 

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type. 

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?” 

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off. 

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously. 

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more. 

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her. 

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to. 

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left. 

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else? 

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought. 

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time. 

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago. 

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could. 

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife. 

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship. 

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.  

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden. 

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without. 

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. 

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig. 

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief. 

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you. 

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him. 

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down. 

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man. 

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner. 

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else. 

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place. 

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.  

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.  

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes. 

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes. 

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions. 

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air,  “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so. 

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke. 

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t. 

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth. 

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you. 

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg. 

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether. 

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt. 

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside. 

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me. 

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably. 

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman. 

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t? 

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth. 

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges. 

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body. 

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question. 

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done. 

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling. 

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break. 

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do. 

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him. 

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband. 

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband. 

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry. 

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did. 

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom. 

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing. 

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel. 

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this. 

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time. 

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off? 

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?  

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you. 

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection. 

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you. 

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you. 

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him. 

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one. 

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears. 

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him. 

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear. 

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

[engeorged]

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it. 

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day. 

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. “That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step. 

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up. 

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement. 

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface. 

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting. 

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated  than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut." 

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

For part two

For more of my stories click here

[wordstome]

kingdom come - i

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting, magic exists but it's the creepy kind ordinary people don't fuck with

3.5k words

tw: swearing and König gets a boner. what's new

[NEXT]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT HAHAAA IT'S MEEE STARTING A NEW SERIES/AU AGAINNNnnnnn. Don't fret, I'm still working on university au! I just started watching The Great (the tv show) and I was like hmm. I should get back to that one idea I had.

p.s. When I mention a "mask" on König, imagine a sort of phantom of the opera, Brahms kinda thing. He isn't always wearing the hood.

Outside, the bells are tolling. Back home, you’ve only ever heard church bells ringing to rally the troops. But here, in these foreign lands, they ring for a royal wedding.

You're wearing a truly massive dress shaped like a pastry. It's a work of art, to be sure, but it leaves you feeling restrained and vulnerable. You should be wearing armor into war—hard boiled leather and curtains of steel rings, not delicate lace and silken ribbons. You're walking into a battle: you would have liked to be able to bend forward further than thirty degrees.

You're at least glad you don't have to wear a veil—it would have been borderline unbearable if you had your vision restricted on top of everything else. It does mean, however, that you can see him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you.

A gigantic man with a soldier's physique, wearing a mask that covers more than half his face. Just the sight of him sends a a chill down your spine.

The officiant’s voice booms out over the assembly, but you don’t hear any of it. The sound washes over you, distant and echoing, as if your head is underwater. Your whole being is on alert as you tilt your face upwards to look at the only part of your soon-to-be-husband that you can see properly: his eyes.

They bore into you as if they're looking straight into your soul. As if they're revealing all of your secrets. For a moment, you feel disarmed, even though you can still feel the calming, solid presence of your trusty dagger against your thigh.

As the officiant finishes the wedding vows, he offers his hand to you, his touch shockingly gentle.

You steel your resolve and stare resolutely back at him as you place your hand in his, and the officials begin to bind them together with velvet cords. You remind yourself who you are, where you are, and what you must do.

You remind yourself that you have to kill him as they tie the final knot.

The woods are foreboding, home to a darkness that seems infinite and all-consuming. The heavy old trees that surround the palace grounds shut out most sunlight and all moonlight, and sometimes it feels as if the forest itself is a living, conscious thing brimming with a dangerous unknown. It's proven to be an effective line of defense in the past: citizens don’t dare to trespass on the royal grounds as it is, but an extra deterrent never hurt anybody.

Except perhaps enemy soldiers. But they learn their lesson quickly.

To you, however, the woods are comforting. You’ve spent many lonely nights amongst these trees, training until your body was sore all over. These trunks have withstood many a misplaced blow, these exposed roots have been your downfall many a time, and this mossy undergrowth has cushioned your bruises during many a tumble and fall.

Tonight, however, there is no training. No combat, no groans of pain, no thuds against wood or flesh. You are blanketed in quiet, something sorely needed as you contemplate the days to come.

This is it. The task you’ve trained for all your life is here. Every sore joint and pulled muscle, every tear-soaked pillowcase, every scolding in Father’s office has led to this. Sometimes it seemed as if the day would never come, as if years of reading, shooting, riding and sparring would be for naught. Though your breath rattles the leaves around you, you feel as if you’ve been holding your breath ever since Father broke the news. This is happening.

You leave in a few hours, as soon as the sun comes over the horizon. Your maids have already packed your luggage—you had to enlist their help after it became too difficult to pick what to bring and what not to bring. If all went well, you’d be back in this room in a few weeks. But what could you afford to bring? What did you need for your sanity? What minute details of an object could compromise your position?

Luckily, Calliope, your most trusted lady-in-waiting, was able to step in when she found you sitting on your rug, clutching your set of cloth dolls—the only toys you’d ever owned as a child that weren’t made with murder in mind—and suggest you take a breath of fresh air. You don’t know where you’d be without her, honestly. You may be your father’s pride and joy of a perfectly well-rounded monarch and killing machine, but you would never have gotten here without her by your side.

You sigh and lean your head against the thick limb you’re lying on. If you didn’t already know you’d wake up with a complaining spine that would then have to spend days riding a horse, you’d go to sleep right here, right now. The woods are your home, these trees your solace. You’ll miss it terribly, as the only place you can truly avoid all servants, generals, teachers, and parents.

Well. Parent.

But as with all things—Father’s rare good mood, your training days, peacetime—the sweet, silent embrace of the forest can’t last forever.

Reluctantly, you give the tree one last pat and climb down, making the trudge back to your room so you can at least attempt to catch a few winks of sleep.

It takes quite a few days of travel to get to your destination. You arrive in the empire next door's capital city saddle-sore and on edge. This was the snakes’ nest, the heart of the beast.

And yet…people are happy.

The mood in your hometown is far quieter and more grim—your country has been at war with this one for as long as you can remember, and yet the contrast could not be more vast. Back home, people walk directly from place to place, and don’t make eye contact with each other. Here, children play unsupervised, outdoor markets overflow with people, and windows are thrown wide open as neighbors chat.

You don’t know how to feel. The previous king here was a ruthless conqueror, building an empire by invading neighboring countries and forcing their monarchs to yield—or killing them when they were defiant. Your own land had only escaped being absorbed into the empire by employing rigorous military discipline and strict wartime measures. Yet here, in the heart of the empire, you would never be able to tell it was a nation at war.

And now you’re marrying the king’s son. The current king. The one they call König. So little is known about him that his entire existence is shrouded in rumor: that the hood he wears conceals a monstrous, disfigured face, that he plotted his father’s demise, that his first wife died not of childbirth, but was assassinated in quiet due to being unable to provide an heir.

You don’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out if the rumors are true.

To your surprise, your reception by the people feels more curious than hostile. You’d expected a bit of resistance, or at least a few dirty looks, considering you're the princess of the country they've been at war with for years. But whatever König has told them has been far more charitable than you anticipated.

Your arrival at the palace is greeted by a flurry of activity. Your entourage scatters to put affairs in order, but Calliope and a small contingent of guards follows you into the main hall. Not that you need them—but you need to keep up appearances. No one outside your family’s most tight-knit circle knows you can throw a punch, much less have an assassin’s training.

You don’t feel in the least bit prepared to meet your fiancé—and target—face to face fresh off a days-long journey, but you’re ushered into the main hall anyway. It seems your task has already begun whether you like it or not.

“Ah, princess. Welcome to my humble home.” You hear him before you see him, his voice heavy with an accent. There’s something a bit charming about it, you think—before the sight of him shakes some sense back into you.

He’s huge. He towers over even his own palace guard, broad with muscle, and moves with a deadly raw power even in this nonthreatening setting.

When his father still ruled, before the current peacetime, stories of the empire’s prodigal heir on the frontlines served as frightening bedtime story and a terrifying cautionary tale for the nation’s soldiers. A beast in a hood who fought with the strength of ten men.

You stand your ground as he approaches you. The hood, then, is real—although the stories were so consistent about it that it was never really in question, was it? What the stories had left out were his eyes—striking and green, piercing into your soul as he bends to kiss the back of your hand. It’s an odd sensation that sends shivers racing up your spine.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty,” you respond, a hint of apprehension in your tone. Of course you had been expecting some form of courtly courtesy, but for some reason you hadn’t expected him to be such a…gentleman. A part of you had been expecting some feral animal, needing to be put down.

"I'm sure you must be exhausted from your journey," he says. "I hope you will find your rooms to your liking." Something about his demeanor is almost...bored? As if greeting his future wife is just another task he's obligated to complete.

He doesn't join you for dinner that night, which is odd. The servants inform you that he's taking care of some urgent business. You hope that your dejection is taken as disappointment that you won't have an opportunity to get to know your fiancé. You are, but not the way people may think.

After all, getting to know your target is half the battle.

You're left to your own devices the next day. König, you're informed, won't be available. That urgent business from last night appears to be an ongoing situation.

Fine by you. You could use some time to prepare.

You spend the day wandering the palace, familiarizing yourself with the grounds and plotting an escape route. You're halted on your brisk survey when you stumble upon a...garden?

Unlike the perfectly manicured hedges outside the palace, or the groomed efficiency of the kitchen gardens, this place is small. Quiet. A little overgrown, but clearly taken care of. The grass is long and soft, dappled in sunshine. Flowers burst forward, crowded around trellises spiraling with vines.

Part of you feels like a trespasser in this private little sanctum, but another part of you is set at ease by the idle tranquility of this place. You pause, feeling a pang of homesickness. It reminds you of the forest: wild in its own way, but gentle and welcoming at the same time.

Something at the corner of your vision catches your eye. A bush bursting forward with round, dark little berries.

Nightshade. Deadly nightshade, in fact. What is this doing in this peaceful little garden? You move forward to examine them closer.

"You shouldn't be here."

You whirl around to find König standing behind you. You had been so absorbed by the garden that you hadn't detected his approach.

Your cheeks burn. You've only been here a day, and already you're letting your guard down. This won't do.

"My apologies, your majesty. I got....lost."

You hold your breath as he draws near. His expression is unreadable—not that you can see most of it, anyway. But when you meet his gaze, you can tell he's sizing you up.

"This is quite a long way to wander."

Shit, is he suspicious? Thinking fast, your brain supplies the best answer you can muster.

"Should a future queen not know the palace she is to live in?"

"Mmm. You make a fair point."

Before you can say or do anything further, he's standing right in front of you. "That's nightshade, you know." You can feel him watching you, assessing your reaction. "Not many can recognize it."

"I..." You can't very well tell him that you know what nightshade looks like because you're an expert in deadly poisons. "I had been wondering what they were."

"I see." He leans forward and plucks a berry off the bush, rolling it between his fingers. "Have you ever tasted one?"

Does he know? Is that a threat? You can't read his expression behind that goddamned mask of his. You stare at him, hoping you look dumbfounded instead of panicked.

"No? They're quite sweet, you know." He holds it out to you. "Care to try one?"

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Don't look so nervous." If you had ever thought he looked frightening before, there's something uncanny about the half-smile that he gives you now. "I didn't expect you to say yes." Before you can say or do anything, he pops the berry in his mouth.

You're too stunned to do anything but watch as he chews for a moment and swallows. One berry won't kill him, but you're more concerned about why he's doing this. Is he trying to intimidate you?

"This was my mother's garden." He gestures to the general surroundings. "I spent a lot of time here as a child. Peaceful, isn't it?"

You let out a tiny sigh of relief now that the conversation appears to be moving on. "Yes. Quite."

"It's always been a place to get away. The first time I ate a nightshade berry was right here, when I was six. I was violently sick for weeks." His tone is a little too light for someone describing being poisoned as a child, and it's unnerving.

"That's when I learned to be careful of things that are too sweet. A good lesson to learn, don't you think?" He walks towards you, and you brace yourself for anything.

He stops next to you, you facing one way and him the other. "Take care then, princess. I will see you tomorrow."

You stare resolutely ahead. "Yes."

And hopefully you won't see him for much longer after that.

Fuck. You forgot about this part.

You had been prepared for this, of course, but you only realize now that you hadn't been mentally prepared. It wasn't until Calliope was helping you undress that you remembered what usually happens between a man and a woman the night of the wedding.

You pace the room, stewing and plotting, getting increasingly antsy before the door swings open and the man himself comes strutting into the bedroom.

"You look like a cornered deer." You hear König shut the door behind him, but you don't turn around.

"I've never done this before." Mentally, you curse yourself for the quaver in your voice.

"Well. Tonight won't be your first."

"What?" You do turn at that, watching him carelessly shed layers all across the room between swigs of his drink.

"I have no interest in bedding you. We do have to sleep in the same room for appearances, though." He plucks a grape from a cluster sitting on a side table and throws it up in the air, catching it with his mouth.

You haven't been in his presence much in the past few days, but each time you have, something about your encounters with him have shaken you up and set you on edge. Somehow, he's kept you on your toes even with a limited presence. Your meeting in the garden was dizzying and confusing, the ceremony set you on high alert. And now, he's thrown you another curveball.

It feels almost too easy. He's just going to go to sleep in the same room as you? No fanfare? "You don't want to...consummate the marriage?"

"You sound upset." He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Were you hoping to?"

"No!" Your face feels hot as he gives you that lopsided half-smile again, more like a smirk this time.

"That's a shame. I prefer fucking willing participants, you see." He drapes himself over the elaborate chaise lounge opposite the bed.

"Are you usually this vulgar?" you retort.

"I see no reason for pretense. We're married, after all." Curiously, he hasn't taken his mask off. Does he sleep in it? Or is he only keeping it on because you're here?

You feel silly now, dressed in a flimsy little silken thing, wrapped up like a present for a brute who won't even touch you. Considerate of him, you suppose. Not that it will matter for very long.

"Sleep well then, hmm? You should be well rested for your first day as queen tomorrow." There's a dangerous gleam in his eye, but it disappears so quickly you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Yes," you say, sitting on the bed while not taking your eyes off of him. "Sleep well."

You give it a few hours, just to be safe. A few hours of laying awake staring at the ceiling. A few hours of watching as moonlight bathes the room in silver light. A few hours of watching him.

The deepening darkness casts sharp shadows across his face, making him seem even more inhuman. What do bloodthirsty emperors dream of? Dominating the weak? Slaughtering the innocent? Conquering women? You shudder. Best not to know.

It's well past midnight when you slowly, quietly get up and pull your dagger from its hidden holster. One downwards thrust, and you're going home. One quick motion, and all of this is over.

It's a little anticlimactic, you think. But this is for the best. For you. For your people. For your family.

Light as a feather, you straddle him, hovering over him just enough so that your weight doesn't wake him. You try not to think about how intimate this position is, and remind yourself that this is the best way to prevent him from getting up or struggling, should your first strike not end him immediately. Which it will, of course.

You take a deep breath as you position the blade right over his heart, calming the fluttering anxiety in your mind. The beginning of a new chapter of your life begins now.

You plunge the dagger downwards.

In an instant, König's eyes fly open. Before you can react at all, his hand has seized your wrist in an iron grip, the tip of your dagger a hair's length from his chest.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He purrs. "A little assassin?"

You grit your teeth and attempt to overpower him: you're so, so close. But his strength is so overwhelming that you can't even get the tip of the dagger to make contact. Panic starts to set in. This isn't good. This is disastrous, actually. He was supposed to be asleep!

You attempt to pull away, to get away, to do anything, but it's no use. "You don't seem surprised," you spit.

"It's not every day your most bitter enemy offers you his daughter's hand in marriage as a truce," he replies, clear amusement in his voice. Is he enjoying this? "Of course I smelled a rat. You must think me a fool."

"No." Yeah, you kind of had.

"Lying ill suits you, princess." You cry out as he jams his fingers into the tendons in your wrist, forcing you to release the dagger. You watch, helplessly, as he picks it up with his other hand and turns it over, studying it in the moonlight.

"What a delicate little knife," he muses. In your hand, it's a sizeable weapon. But held in his fingers it looks small, harmless. To your dismay, he then proceeds to chuck it at the opposite wall, the blade sticking itself solidly in between two panels.

"You knew?" you ask, a tremor in your traitorous voice.

"Oh, I suspected. You had me disappointed for a while—I thought you would have made an attempt well before this." He lets out a deep chuckle that sends terror through you. "For a moment I even thought that you were as you presented: just some poor little lamb, a peace offering given up to the slaughter." His eyes narrow behind the mask. "I am glad to see that you have proven to be much more interesting than that."

"Interesting?" Out of all the reactions you would have expected him to have, this is not one of them. Fear, anger, even immediate violence. Not...interest.

"You have no idea," he says. Your eyes widen as he you feel his hand run up your thigh.

That's not the only thing you feel, though. He shifts a bit underneath you, and it's then that the earlier flush to your cheeks returns in full force. Is he...hard?!

"If you're going to kill me, then get on with it," you ground out through your teeth.

"Little one, if I had wanted you dead immediately, I would have already pinned you down and snapped your neck. No, you've given me a gift: a gift I intend to cherish." You shiver as he slides a hand up your thigh. "A challenge."

"Is this a game to you?" You're not sure if your breath is running ragged from fear or anger, now.

"I could end this at any time, you know." You gasp involuntarily as a hand closes around your throat. "But that would be no fun, now would it?"

"You are a fool, then." You stare at him defiantly, even as his grip constricts your breathing. "Because I will kill you."

His eyes dance with some mad glee. "That's what I like to hear."

Hiiiiiiiii besties. I've been chewing on the idea of a medieval royalty sort of au since before Shrike, and I came up with this premise like. At least a year or two ago, before I was even in the COD fandom. So I'm glad to finally be making some real headway on it! I have no idea how many parts this is going to have. I have a lot of plot planned for it, so we're just gonna have to see where the vibes take us!

I'd like to thank @danibee33 my angel as always. I bounced a lot of royal/medieval/king König ideas off of her, some of which I still may use, but I changed the plot drastically when I had an epiphany a week or two ago. Hope you like this one babe <3 Also, thank you @kneelingshadowsalome and @gremlingottoosilly for their historical/time period aus. Your fics gave me a real kick in the ass to finish this.

Also shoutout to Pedro Pascal fans? I stumbled upon some breathtakingly kinky fanfiction on this beloved hellsite featuring the Mandalorian, and thought: you know what? If people can proudly write and publish the nastiest, most shameless smut I've ever read, then I can push through whatever impostor syndrome, perfectionist embarrassment I have with my work and get it done.

As usual, please let me know your feedback! I'm trying out a bit of a different characterization for König (not that much different, he's still our beloved violent horny maniac), and I want to know what people think.

I'm also going to be using my taglist again. If you were tagged here and don't want to be tagged anymore, please let me know! And if you would like to be added to the taglist, drop a reply <3

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

Here is my kinktober masterlist - the prompts are from @starsandskies and these are all Elvis or one of his film characters. They're all x reader unless I've noted otherwise. Let me know what you're most excited about!

Day 1: Dirty talk -Glenn Tyler

You're trying to study but Glenn has other ideas...

Day 2: Against a wall - Elvis during the filming of Charro!

You deliver the Charro! script to Elvis and he takes his frustrations out on you.

Day 3: Orgasm control - Clint Reno

Clint comes to visit you to learn how to make love to a woman.

Day 4: Stockings - 70s Elvis

Elvis takes a liking to your stockings...

Day 5: Praise kink - Dr Carpenter

Dr Carpenter makes a house call.

Day 6: Thigh riding - Rick Richards

You've been flirting with Rick for the whole helicopter ride and now you want to have your way with him.

Day 7: Risky places - Sonny x reader x Elvis

It's yours and Sonny's wedding day, but you keep making eyes at Elvis. Sonny decides it's time to indulge your little fantasy.

Day 8: Threesome/Moresome - Elvis and many women in the jacuzzi

Elvis asks the Memphis Mafia for a tub full of women and has some fun with them.

Day 9: Naked-Clothed - Joe Lightcloud

Joe comes home from the rodeo unexpectedly and catches you having a little fun.

Day 10: Knife play - Charlie Rogers

You're one half of a knife-throwing act in the circus and Charlie wants in on it.

Day 11: Leather/Latex - 68 Elvis in a latex suit

Elvis puts on an outfit he thinks you can't resist, but you turn the tables on him.

Day 12: Role reversal - BDE

When you don't want to see photos of yourself, Elvis realises he hasn't told you you're pretty for a while.

Day 13: Oral - Elvis in the cadillac, early 60s.

Elvis takes you for a date in his new gold-plated Cadillac Limousine.

Day 14: Sensory deprivation/Sensory play - blindfold

When you find it difficult to let go in bed Elvis has an idea.

Day 15: Cock rings/Cages - Walter Hale

You and Walter can't leave each other alone, and he has stamina.

Day 16: Flashing - A girl flashes him at a concert, 72.

When Elvis is surprised by you flashing him he knows he has to find you.

Day 17: Biting/Biting marks - 70s Elvis

You tell BDE you're bored with your sex life so he takes matters into his own hands.

Day 18: Body writing - BDE

You want to show Elvis how much he means to you after a show, and decide lipstick is the best way to do it.

Day 19: Pegging/Strap-ons - Princess universe

Princess persuades Elvis to try something new in the bedroom.

Day 20: Facesitting - 1956 Elvis and an older woman.

Elvis comes to take your daughter for a date but ends up falling for you.

Day 21: Masturbation - Outtake from Gentle On My Mind

Gloria in the shower, thinking about Elvis.

Day 22: Breeding kink - 70s Elvis.

Elvis comes back from signing the contract with the International Hotel full of excitement.

Day 23: Bondage/Restraints - 72 Elvis, a continuation of Kinky Boots.

When you won't stop playing with Elvis' cane collection even though he's told you not to, he has to teach you a lesson.

Day 24: Dom/Sub dynamics - 50s Elvis reading fan mail.

When Elvis gets aroused reading his fan mail you have to teach him a lesson.

Day 25: Impact play/Spanking - 70 Elvis.

You persuade Elvis to hit you with one of his belts.

Day 26: Voyeurism/Exhibitionism - Dr Carpenter.

When Dr Carpenter doesn't come round at the usual time, you decide to go to him. Sequel to day 5.

Day 27: Choking/Breathplay - Greg Nolan.

You're a model Greg is photographing but you can't seem to get your head in the game, so you persuade him to choke you a little.

Day 28: Lap dance - 1970 Elvis in Vegas.

Elvis has fun with an exotic dancer after a Vegas show.

Day 29: Masks/Costumes - set in the present day with 1969 Elvis.

Elvis does a Calvin Klein ad, and as the photographer, you try to stay professional.

Day 30: Hair pulling - Elvis in his reading glasses.

Elvis examines your pussy and gets a little carried away.

Day 31: Aftercare - 70s Elvis.

Elvis feels bad whenever he's rough with you, and afterwards becomes the cutest, fluffiest guy ever.

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine

[pascaloverx]

CARELESS

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon. Recently, you’ve found yourself tempted by someone you never considered before—your cousin, Aegon Targaryen II. After a glass or two of wine, he seems like an enticing distraction. How could you resist the temptation to indulge in something no one would approve of?

Author's Note: This is the second House of the Dragon universe fanfic I’m writing, but I’m not sure if it will continue. This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. The fanfic may include inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Please engage with the story if you’d like it to continue!

AO3LINK ONE

PREVIEW

A most tedious dinner. You were seated alongside your brothers, your father, and your stepmother, accompanied by her children. All gathered at this meal, not for comfort, but to maintain appearances. Your younger sisters, Baela and Rhaena, sat closely beside their betrothed, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Your father would never explain why you had not been promised to anyone. The most he had ever mentioned was that King Viserys I had requested you remain unbetrothed, with the intent that, when the time was right, you would wed one of his sons.

It would not be such a bad idea, were the son of Viserys whom you desire available for marriage. After all, Prince Aegon II is wed to Princess Helaena, leaving you to wait for a union with one of the remaining sons: Prince Aemond or Prince Daeron. Aemond always appears so stern and determined. Surely, he is a man of courage. Yet, you cannot say whether he is the type to offer you devotion, passion, and amusement. As for Daeron, he seems almost nonexistent.

"If you are thinking of using that knife for some wicked deed, I would suggest pointing the sharp end towards your intended target, not towards yourself." You remark, your gaze fixed on Aegon II as he idly plays with the knife in his hands. Your voice is not raised, for you do not wish for anyone to notice you speaking with Aegon just yet.

"Are you so bored that gazing at me is your only amusement, cousin?" Aegon speaks, as though in desperate need of someone to alleviate his ennui. Not long ago, he had attempted to engage Jace in conversation, broaching inappropriate topics of a sexual nature. Clearly, he sought nothing more than to provoke Rhaenyra's son.

"It must be customary here to have nothing to do. Despite the abundant quantity of wine served, it seems there is no amount of wine that could make it pleasant to spend hours gazing at you," you reply, your words seemingly sparking something in Prince Aegon II. He gives a half-smile, his blue eyes almost gleaming, despite his melancholic expression.

He moves his chair closer to you. "I can't imagine there is anything more interesting happening in Dragonstone than here. Especially for someone like you—unbetrothed, not a rider of any dragon. Tell me, how does it feel to be the only defective daughter of Daemon Targaryen?" Aegon truly seeks to provoke you. Yet, you harden your expression, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes.

"A bold remark from the man who can't speak High Valyrian well enough to properly command his dragon, or do you think I haven’t noticed that your skin is so pale it seems you haven’t stepped outside in months?" you retort, trying to wound him as deeply as he has wounded you. "And for your information, I recently claimed Seasmoke, so I am no longer a dragonless rider." As you speak the last words, it almost seems as though you are seeking his approval in some way.

"I dare you to say that closer to my face," Aegon II Targaryen retorts provocatively, as though, despite your barbs striking a nerve, he finds satisfaction in the exchange. "And you only speak of my skills in High Valyrian out of envy. I highly doubt that Seasmoke compares in any way to Sunfyre, who, might I add, understands me completely."

You rise from your seat, stepping closer to Aegon, who now sits far nearer than he had before, having crossed the table’s divide with unsettling ease. "I shall say it plainly, Your Highness, face to face," you declare, your tone calm yet laced with venom. "You reek of wine and failure." Each word leaves your lips slowly, deliberate and cutting, as you lean perilously close to him. Most at the table remain absorbed in their own affairs, indifferent to the charged exchange between you and Aegon. Helaena’s gaze lingers briefly, yet her inscrutable expression betrays neither concern nor objection. Then, with calculated precision, Aemond rises. His sudden movement is commanding, his imposing presence drawing all attention to him and breaking the taut tension between you and his elder brother.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys," Aemond declares with biting sarcasm. It is clear he seeks to unsettle Rhaenyra’s sons, who are the subject of whispered rumors—that they are not Velaryons by blood, but bastards sired by Harwin Strong. The outcome is predictable. Within moments, Jacaerys’s fist connects with Aemond’s face, the clash erupting without pause. Aegon quickly moves to block Lucerys from joining the fray between his elder brother and Aemond. Boys, men, masculine creatures—all so easily bored, all with tempers as short as their patience.

Your father, Daemon Targaryen, rises, his presence commanding enough to silence the room after both Alicent and Rhaenyra have already stood. With his intervention, the conflict swiftly dissipates—a pity, for you would have relished watching them tear into one another. It would have been the most entertainment you’d had since arriving at the Red Keep.

"Sister, we should retire to our chambers," Baela says, pulling you from your thoughts as you watch your relatives begin to file out from the table, the tension lingering like a ghost in their wake.

"Go on ahead, sister. I shall check on Viserys II and Aegon III to ensure they are sleeping peacefully—if it pleases you, Princess Rhaenyra," you reply to your sister, turning your attention to your stepmother, who still bears an air of frustration over the earlier chaos.

"Of course, Y/N. If you could give them a goodnight kiss on my behalf, I would be grateful. I will see to the boys’ return to their chambers before retiring to my own. Should you or Baela need anything…" Rhaenyra speaks, her weariness evident as though the mere act of quelling her sons' quarrel has drained her.

Your father, Daemon, approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around her in a gesture of unspoken solidarity. "If you need anything, do try to manage on your own—you are my daughters, after all," he says with a sly smile, pressing a kiss to Rhaenyra’s cheek before casting a confident glance toward you and Baela. With that, farewells are exchanged, and you each retreat to your respective quarters.

You make your way toward the quarters of your younger brothers—well, half-brothers, children of Rhaenyra and Daemon. You recall the day the maids brought them in, and so you attempt to follow the path that you remember. Yet, for some reason, it feels as though you’ve lost your way.

"Are you looking for me?" Aegon’s voice comes softly from behind you, and you jump, nearly crying out in surprise.

"Damn you, Aegon! Do you want me to wake the entire keep with my screams?" you exclaim, spinning around to face him. He stands there, a goblet of wine in hand, taking a slow sip as his gaze sweeps over you, appraising you from head to toe with a certain unsettling amusement.

"Never would I dream of allowing others to interrupt our little exchange, my dear Y/N," Aegon murmurs, closing the distance between you both.

You smile slyly, taking a step closer to him in return. "As for your question," you reply with a teasing edge, "I’m looking for an Aegon, but not you. My younger brother, to be precise. Do you happen to know where I can find the quarters of my younger siblings?"

You snatch the goblet of wine from his hand, taking a sip, and he watches you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. After a moment, he gestures toward the far end of the corridor, where a door stands slightly ajar. "That way," he says simply.

"Thank you for your assistance, Aegon," you say, returning the goblet to his hands, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes the air between you feel charged. You begin to turn, heading toward the direction of your younger brothers' quarters, but then you feel Aegon’s hands grasp you, clumsily yet with undeniable strength. He likely still holds the effects of the wine, but his grip is firm, almost possessive.

"There is certainly a more fitting way for you to show your gratitude," Aegon murmurs, drawing closer to your face, the sharp scent of wine swirling around you both as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

"I don't think it would be appropriate for the gratitude you have in mind to take place so near to your quarters, Your Highness. Surely your wife would not approve," you say, your words rejecting him, though your body betrays your true feelings as you move closer to his lips.

Aegon’s response comes with a quiet, almost amused tone, "Helaena is more understanding than you might think. She prefers to stay in her chambers most of the time." His hands, with the subtle grace of someone accustomed to both charm and conquest, roam over your waist, as if testing the boundaries of your composure, seeking to draw you in further.

"Very well, then, close your eyes," you respond quickly. Aegon, likely expecting a kiss, closes his eyes gently, waiting. You draw your mouth near his, feeling the intoxicating scent of wine almost envelop you. It’s so close that any movement forward would result in a deep kiss. But where is the thrill in giving in so easily?

"Let us save that gratitude for another time, dear cousin," you finish with a soft kiss to his cheek. You pull away from him, gently removing his arms from around your waist. The frustration in Aegon's gaze is evident as he watches you retreat, and for a moment, you savor the power you hold over the situation. Turning, you walk away, heading toward the quarters of your younger brothers.

The following morning, you are abruptly awakened by the sound of your father entering your room. Daemon’s expression is anything but calm—he looks tense, almost impatient. "Get up, Y/N! King Viserys demands your presence in the throne room," he commands, his voice sharp and authoritarian. For a moment, you wonder if you’re caught in a nightmare. Your head throbs painfully from the effects of the wine you drank the night before, and it takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up with his words.

"What happened, Father?" you ask, still trying to compose yourself, too confused to fully understand. Daemon turns, his agitation palpable, running a hand through his hair as though processing what he’s about to say.

"After last night’s altercation, my beloved brother has decided to betroth you to his son. He believes it will help mend the relationships among the younger members of the family," Daemon says, his words laced with frustration. "Prepare yourself, Y/N. You are soon to be promised to the remaining son—the one-eyed prince." Daemon’s tone is nearly explosive as he paces around your room. After he speaks, he storms out, leaving you to grapple with the shocking news.

[minimomoe]

Love Bites

Baker Fem Reader x Toji Fushiguro (mafia au)

word ct: 15.1k, 11 Chapters

tags: Fluff, grumpy x sunshine, found family, a little angsty but nothing too bad, marriage proposal, established relationship, (last chapter only: kitchen sex, creampie, oral- fem receiving, other sexxy funtime stuff)

Chapter Ten: Yes

Toji watches in the corner as you talk to your brother the whole evening. You try to beckon him over, calling him to sit next to you but he told you that he’s fine where he’s at. Your eyes would dim, just for a second, but your brother and Megumi would pull you back into the conversation so you wouldn’t stay sad for long. The ring box felt like a brick in his pocket. He has no idea when would be the proper time to give it to you, and it didn’t help that his son glares at him whenever you aren’t looking. 

You are just so beautiful. He didn’t want to interrupt anything that you were doing, no matter how insignificant the task may seem… but that means he has been sitting on this ring for weeks now.

Toji first tried to subtly bring up the idea of marrying you to Sukuna first. First mistake was talking about it to Sukuna. The other man bore a shit eating grin that made Toji want to shove his face into the window while he was driving them back home from a mission.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it! This is good, man. You’re finally ready to settle down and be the perfect househusband I always knew you could be. Did you already get a ring? If so, Gojo owes me $200.”

“Why the fuck would Gojo owe you $200?”

“I said that you would buy a ring and propose by Christmas. Gojo said that you’re slow as hell and it would happen next year,” Sukuna boasted. 

“So y’all bet on me instead of doing your work?” Toji shot a glance at the other man but Sukuna just waved him off. 

“Oh come on. Your eyes grow huge around her and you follow her around like a goddamn puppy. Not that it’s a bad thing, but any idiot could tell that you were gonna marry her.”

Toji shook his head. “It hasn’t happened yet. She hasn’t said yes.”

“There’s no way she wouldn’t say yes. She’s just as in love as you are. And I better be your best man.” 

The same sentiments were shared by others in the group. Nanami wanted to be the one to help Toji with his suit and the others, and had a few bridal boutiques in mind for you. Gojo wanted to help choose the venue. Suguru and Choso gladly volunteered to help with any and all other wedding details. Nobody seemed surprised when Toji said that he had plans on making you his wife. In fact, in most cases, they were telling him to hurry up. They have already accepted you and the kids love you just as much. You are family in their eyes. 

So why couldn’t Toji just pop the question? Well he thought that maybe it was because he didn’t have any of your folks to ask. Toji figures that it was customary, even though he usually doesn’t give a shit about tradition. Even then, it was like the universe gave him a big flashing sign to get on with it because the third time he visited Ezra on his own he woke up and gave his blessing. It couldn’t have been more obvious. 

So Toji sits and waits. And waits, and waits, and waits as you reunite with your brother and play with Megumi until he falls asleep in a heap on the couch. He gathers Megumi up, the little kid flailing around like noodles in his arms while he takes him to bed. You try to take Megumi yourself but Toji tells you not to worry about it, instead telling you to get your shoes and jacket ready when he comes back. You give him a surprised look but agree, and on your behind you Ezra gives Toji an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

When Toji places Megumi in bed he feels an arm tugging him back before he leaves.

“Have you asked her yet?” The boy is hardly awake. His eyes aren’t open yet his eyebrows are scrunched together. Toji sighs and rubs his face down. 

“I’m working on it.”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat.“

“That’s real easy for you to say, kid,” Toji chuckles. 

“She likes you. A lot. And I like her too.” 

“I know.” 

“…I accidentally called her mom and she smiled,” Megumi confesses. “A few days ago. I think she liked it.” 

“You want her to be your mom?” Of course Megumi sees you like his mom. You’ve been there for him since you came into their lives, and you fret over Megumi even when he’s not around. Caring for Megumi came to you easily, from helping him with homework to packing his lunch, or taking him with you when you had errands to do. That tender love also extends to Yuji and Nobara, who flourish under your care. Everyone did. 

“Yeah. I think she'd be a pretty cool mom to have.”

Toji ruffles Megumi's hair. His son gave him the confidence boost that he needs. “Tonight. I’m doing it tonight. Wish me luck?”

“She’s gonna say yes either way. Good luck,” he mumbles, the sleep pulling him back under. Toji leans down to kiss the top of his head and walks back to the living room where you were waiting for him. 

“Ezra, do you think you can watch Megumi for a little while? I still have a present to give her,” Toji asks Ezra and he nods vigorously.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine here.”

“Really? Are you sure?” You ask. You are all bundled up with the same scarf and gloves Toji gifted you on your birthday all those months ago and fixing the laces on your boots.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll be back soon,” Ezra grins. 

“Okay. Thanks,” you say, grabbing Toji's outstretched hand and walking back outside. You had no idea what your gift could be, or why it had to be outside. You hadn’t even noticed that you technically weren’t given a gift by him yet merely for the fact that you felt like you have been given so many by everyone else. Spending this holiday with so many people is a million times better than last year. Ezra wasn’t in a coma yet, but he wasn’t around either. He had his own busy life on the other side of the world and coming back home after your parents’ untimely death was too much to bear. You didn’t blame him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was very lonely. Now you had a belly filled with a loving meal, belting out to Christmas carols with the radio while Toji drove you to wherever he was driving, even getting him to sing along with you. 

You notice that the road he took is the same road that your bakery stays. You haven’t been there the whole week, one part because it’s Christmas, other parts because Toji asked you to take the entire week off. Usually you only did three, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the day right after, but he wanted more time with you and you couldn’t say no. Not when he was looking up at you from laying on your chest and his eyebrows tilted up like he was pouting. You were sure that your customers would understand. 

“Watch your step,” Toji says, holding open your door and taking your hand again. He did take you to the bakery, and it only added to your confusion. He ushers you inside to get out of the freezing cold before you could say anything and you stand in the dark of one of your favorite places in the world, second to only wherever Toji was. 

When Toji turns on the light it becomes apparent why he brought you to your store. The place was completely renovated to the layout of your dreams. You always complained how tight the space felt despite having the space to be better, it’s just that you didn’t have the money to fix it. You look back at Toji who nods at you to keep exploring. 

It wasn’t the type of modernization that sucks the life out of the space it’s in with a grey and white color palette. Your store still has character, accents of red and black dancing on the walls and tiles on the floor, now wavy counters, a deep walnut with their rough edges smoothed out but still bumpy to the touch, giving it a unique texture. The two tables you had in the front near the windows were the same. You didn’t notice when you first walked in but even the wording on the windows had changed. It matched the curled logo you have printed out on your boxes finally on the windows. 

You turn to Toji with tears in your eyes and your hands over your mouth. Emotions swirl in your chest. You didn’t know if you wanted to jump into his arms or break down crying. 

“Wh-when did you… how did you—“

“You’ve talked about all the changes you wanted to make since I met you. All I had to do was listen,” he says, gently holding your shoulder to pull you closer. 

“This is insane, Toji. I mean it was only a week.”

“We’re lucky that Christmas lands on a Saturday this year,” he shrugs. You look up at him in awe and let out a breathy laugh. 

“I still can’t believe it.” 

“You wanted this, right? There’s still some things they said need to be cleaned up but it’s safe for you to be here. Do you want to change anything?”

“No! No, this is perfect. I mean, I can’t believe that you did all this for me. I was fully expecting to hold out for a couple more years to save up or try to find a new store. This is… Thank you, Toji.”

You stand on your tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips. His eyes flutter close and his arm tightens around your body. You pull away and his eyes are still closed, his lashes fan over his cheeks and you hold his face in your hands. “I love you. This is the best Christmas I have ever had. Not just because of the bakery but because I have you and Megumi and everybody else to share it with.” Tears prick your eyes again and Toji finally opens his eyes again. 

“Can I make it better?” He asks in a low voice, cautiously. A bewildered expression sweeps over your face. How could he possibly top a renovated shop? You give a slow nod since he looks nervous and he kisses the round of your nose, laces his fingers in your hand, then kisses the pads of your fingertips. You giggle in response, still unsure on what “better” could be until he puts his other hand in his pocket and slips out a golden ring. Your eyes bounce back and forth from the ring to Toji’s face, blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding. 

“I would do anything for you,” he starts, holding the ring up between the both of you. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that.” 

You begin to cry. It was long overdue. You’ve  been holding your tears back since you walked in but they could no longer be kept at bay. Toji gathers a heavy drop on your lash line and cups your face. “You don’t have to prove anything,” you choke out. “I want you with me. Forever.”

“Forever?” He smiles. You nod vigorously, whispering yes a thousand times over, and he slips the ring on your finger. The blood red jewel glistens in the new bright lights and more sobs escape your mouth. You smash your lips on his again, throwing yourself on his body and he welcomed it. He grins into your kiss and returns your enthusiasm, lifting you off of the floor as you get lost in each other’s affection. 

“I’ve been wanting to marry you for a while now,” Toji says when he finally puts you back on the ground. Your head spins with giddiness. He kisses you again, and again, and one more time for good luck only for you to drag him back down to deepen it. 

“I would’ve said yes,” you laugh. “Definitely would’ve said yes.”

“Megumi was right,” Toji shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to get married. I’m going to be your wife !” You squeal and shake your hand in the air.

Toji couldn’t believe there was ever a doubt in his mind that you would say no. You have always been open and honest with him, and accepted him and everything that he was. It was hard to believe that you came to love him and Megumi as easily as you did. There were only a few vibrant moments before he met you, and there is a clear difference in his time line where you existed versus when you didn’t. He wanted to hold onto that vibrance, that warmth that you brought with you everywhere you went and never let go. He kissed you again, slowly and deep, relishing the feeling of your lips, your body touching his and then rested his forehead on yours. 

“I love you.”

“I’m going to cry again.” 

“My little crybaby.”

“Is my husband making fun of me?” You gasp dramatically, but your arms wrap around the back of his neck and you giggle into his neck. 

“Your husband still has to finish the tour. The kitchen is updated too. No more dented ovens.” 

You grasp Toji’s hand with your newly decorated hand into the back of the bakery laughing. 

Chapters: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

M.list || Ao3 || Twitter || Ko-fi

[gabessquishytum]

You just filled my Sand-ridgerton prompt; Which I love!! ❤️❤️🩷❤️

I'm so glad your box is open again!!

----

Hob just wanted to get some snacks from the corner store; he was hungry and too tired to cook. He knew the universe would get him for eating nothing but suspicious hot dog(s), and artifical spicy cheese flavoring for dinner, but he didn't think it would be before he could finish said snacks. But well......

Bursting into Hob's boring night, on this random Tuesday, was a beautiful man, bare foot, wearing ripped pants and a wrecked shirt (or what used to be a shirt) covered spotted with blood?!? and seemingly hiding in the corner behind the Tastykakes. Even roughed up as he was, for Hob it was just love at first sight, Hob was gobsmacked by how lovely he was.

Hob would have helped him regardless, really, but he definitely had to help his future husband. 😝

Dream managed to save his (damn) self from the Burgess Gang after his mission went bad (and his company didn't work to save him). Dream was a top spy, so he knew the drill, but he was too far from hq to get there in his current condition. Hiding and regrouping in a nondescript late night store should help him shake the remaining Burgess goons chasing him. When he finally stopped to take a breath, ducked low behind some snack cakes, he (unfortunately) could help but notice a handsome puppy dog of a man staring at him.

Omg, himbo Hob and spy Dream is just the perfect combination.

Hob tries so hard to be smooth about it, kind of shuffling up to Dream in what he hopes is a discreet manner. He immediately ruins it by babbling away about how he doesn't usually talk to strangers but he also likes to help strangers in need, particularly strangers who don't seem to have any shoes on... Dream stares helplessly at the cute guy who just doesn't seem to be able to shut up, and he makes a split second decision. The cute guy is clearly kind of an idiot, and can't possibly be a danger to Dream, and aligning himself with a civilian is a great way to throw the Burgess gang off the scent. Dream puts on his own most pathetic puppy eyes, and throws himself on Hob’s mercy.

And look. He only meant to go home with Hob and lay low for a couple of hours. But Hob was so taken in by Dream’s 'damsel in distress' act that he seems genuinely really worried. He makes Dream a nice (ish) food, fusses over his bruises and cooes over him like a mother hen. Dream doesn't even get a chance to steal a pair of shoes and run away because Hob is all over him! And... it's kind of nice, after what Dream has just been through. Suddenly staying the night doesn't seem so bad, especially when Hob gives him a bubble bath and a fucking aromatherapy massage afterwards. Dream can't peel himself up off the bed after that.

And why is he stilled holed up in Hob’s apartment a week later? Well... if his company couldn't be bothered to save him, then he clearly deserves a holiday before he does go crawling back to them. Burgess will never find him at Hob’s place, and Hob is so... charmingly adorable and sweet. He waits on Dream hand and foot! Leaving him sounds like the worst idea ever.

Little does he know that Hob is already planning their wedding. And little does Hob know that the love of his life is a spy being hunted to the death by Burgess and his goons. Somehow, they might just be perfect for each other!

[sasheneskywalker]

dc fic summaries i have in my drafts

(the fics are in various stages of completion, but i plan to finish them all)

demolition lovers [jason/tim]

The last time Tim saw Jason Todd, the man had brutally beaten him up and stabbed him in the chest with a batarang. He hadn't heard anything about him since Dick and Damian helped Red Hood rescue his sidekick, so Tim put him out of his mind, focusing on more important issues.

But a chance encounter in another country makes him realize that he and Jason are working on the same case and when the fate of the world seems to rest on their shoulders, they are forced to team up, racing against time to solve what might just be the most dangerous mystery in their careers yet.

triangles are the strongest shape [tim/kon/bernard]

Tim comes out to his friends and tells them he has a boyfriend. Kon mopes over ice cream like a moody preteen girl. Bernard eyes his boyfriend’s hunky best friend contemplatively

three for a wedding [jason/tim/roy]

While on a mission Jason and Roy touch a strange artifact that forces them to get married or risk dying painfully. It wouldn’t be a problem except Jason is secretly dating Tim and Roy has been pining after his best friend for ages.

baby, i'm an outlaw [jason/helena]

They woke up together in an unfamiliar bed, with no memories of who they were and no idea how they ended up in this situation.

Then there was the dead body lying in the corner of the room.

Or, Jason and Helena go on a road trip, kill some people, and fall in love along the way.

practical application [jason-centric]

Five times Columbia University students are surprised by Jason Todd’s skills and one time they find out how he acquired them

author’s notes [jason-centric]

Jason writes fanfiction. It's not that big of a deal, but some people apparently disagree.

Or, how gargoylejay becomes a fandom sensation.

ouroboros [jason-centric]

Jason knows the circle cannot be broken. Yet he never stops trying anyway.

keep your enemies closer [tim-centric]

Five times Tim calls on unexpected allies for help and one time he doesn’t have to.

fourth-wall observer [tim-centric]

Ever since Tim was a child, something about the universe felt off to him.

It wasn’t until he started reading books and watching TV that he realized that the world he was living in functioned in a disturbingly similar manner to those that were fictional. It was ruled by certain patterns, tropes, as he called them, and he could use his knowledge of them to uncover the past, understand the present and predict the future.

Or, Tim Drake and dealing with the fact that your existence and reality are just figments of someone else’s imagination.

The Dark Dame [bruce-centric]

When Bryce was first designing her vigilante costume, she decided to leave the official name of her persona in the hands of the public. She expected something relating to the darkness, the night, the shadows that seemingly enveloped her entire being while she fought criminals in the streets. So the first time she heard the moniker “Batman” in reference to herself, she was quite taken aback. Both because people apparently thought that her suit resembled an anthropomorphic bat and that she was a man.

wheel of fortune [oc-centric]

A bored college student finds herself in the DC universe and decides to have some fun. It turns out that you can achieve a lot when you own one of the most powerful artifacts in the world.

[xjulixred45x]

I know I have to work on the requests, but I have to get this out of my head because now I have a rediscovered love for Invincible, bear with it.

(SOMETHING LIKE A CONTINUATION OF THIS)

SOME SITUATIONS WITH YANDERE AU MARK GRAYSON/INVINCIBLE

okay, I can definitely see that you two were a couple or at least liked each other before everything went to hell.

and although you were fine with Mark at that time, when he was being convinced to join the Viltrum empire, he was somewhat seeking your approval. although using very vague assumptions, such as "would you accept an alien race if it meant world peace?" "or if that would help with the development of medicine?" You know, like what Nolan wanted to do at the beginning with Mark. and obviously since you didn't have the context you said yes without hesitation, further fueling Mark's crazy ideas.

I may not have made it very clear in the first part, but you and Nolan definitely don't get along. I mean, he's nice to you in a way, but he treats you like a little kid who needs discipline, so he tries to push Mark into that. Not only that, but you also indirectly blame him for the sudden change in Mark's personality, you know that if Nolan hadn't gotten him into that shit, he wouldn't have so much blood on his hands. The Mark you knew wasn't like that. HE WASNT.

The main reason this Mark doesn't feel angry because of your traditional escape attempts or why he's so soft is because of something our Invincible doesn't usually have, and that's his ARROGANCE. This Mark does not believe that you are capable of running away from him, you are not capable of defending yourself from him, you are not capable of harming him and above all you are not capable of HATE HIM, because he sees you as a soft creature, who should be treated as such because you are confused.

He is delusional, SpongeBob and Squidward level of Delusional. You could perfectly tell him that you hate him, that he's the worst thing that happened to you in your life... and he thinks it's reverse psychology.

"fuck you"

"Is that an invitation?😚"

"I hate you"

"I love you too babe🥰"

"If we were trapped on a desert island I wouldn't hesitate for a second to make a raft with your limbs"

"Silly you, I would take you out flying😘"

Do you see what I'm saying? For the same reason, if you end up hurting him, he would be proud that now you can definitely defend yourself from the Revolutionaries who "kidnap you every now and then" (it's you on the run). dang it, if you hurt him probably even NOLAN would compliment you for doing it despite being "so weak" and would completely approve of you.

(I can already imagine you with a wedding dress and a bouquet of knives...you want to throw it at Mark...in the face)

I think the most Mark does to scare you into escape scenarios is to threaten to throw you and not catch you next time, that's the best he goes. He can't stand the idea of leaving you paralyzed because it would be very boring and sad to see only a shell of you.

He wouldn't kill Eve, but he would never hurt you...physically. Did you see that in the end in their universe they manage to imprison him and get rid of Omniman? you totally didn't let go of Fem! Cecil(Cecilia?) all the way to her base and thanking her with all your heart and tears. Cecilia comforted you awkwardly, but she understood that you must have definitely had a hard time with Mark.

Meanwhile, with Mark already locked up, even if the world is a bit messed up, you can breathe easy for the first time in years, you can leave the base without fear of what happens to the people around you, you can eat without a problem, you can CHAT with people! it's magic! It's like you don't even remember anything before Mark! out of pure fear!

Meanwhile, Mark in prison always asks about you AT LEAST once a day, even if they give him proof that you are WELL and HEALTHY, he just doesn't believe it and DEMANDS to see you to prove it, which they obviously deny him and only makes him think that even more. The guy thinks you must be dying of hunger and cold or being eaten by collotes while you live your best life🤣

"MY POOR BABE! She must be so confused and scared without me! How do I know they're not torturing her for information!? She must be so worried because we're not getting home!" and it goes on and on... meanwhile Darling: "happy~ happy~happy~" "OHHHOOOhhOO, I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY!"

For now that's all. I hope the Viltrum empire doesn't come to shit on Darling's happiness☠️

[justalildumpling]

chapter 26: my soulmate

wc: 0.6k

If Jeno was going to be completely honest, he had no fucking clue what he was doing — partially due to acting upon his fight or flight response when you had mentioned the whole girlfriend ordeal. 

It wasn’t like he had never thought about making the two of you official (who was he kidding, he thought about it almost every day). But as a certified simp and part-time samoyed puppy, he wanted everything to be perfect, and if perfect meant standing on an empty beach digging up a pretty pathway and scattering rose petals for the past three hours, he would do it.

It had been around half an hour since he had texted you to come to this very specific beach — which he spent every minute anxiously fiddling with the bouquet of roses in one hand and fixing his wind-swept locks in the other. However, when he spotted your car pull up next to the boardwalk, he realised that he was not prepared for this moment, especially seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you met his gaze.

There was a little cute skip in your step as you hurriedly down the steps and to his position on the beach, your white cocktail dress dancing in the wind and the corners of your lips gradually rising as you got closer. 

Jeno could almost see the wedding arches and bells in the background, almost dropping the bouquet on the sandy surface as his hands instinctively reached out to hold you in some way.

“Jeno, what’s with all this?” You squealed, receiving the roses from his shaky grasp.

It was tranquil in that moment for the boy, with the girl of his dreams inhabiting the most beautiful smile and sharing the sweetest gaze with his little self, like all anxieties had washed away with his eyes crinkling into crescent moons and the words of “Will you accept to be my soulmate Y/N?” tumbling out of his lips without a second thought.

Your mouth parted for a split second, eyes hammering with a sense of shock and delight before a soft look adorned your face, “You finally accepted the soulmate request huh?” 

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Who says we can’t be both twin flames and soulmates?” 

You smiled, placing the bouquet on the sand before enclosing your arms around his neck, “Maybe we can test that theory,” you leaned closer into his ear, whispering the next few words, “I heard that if you kiss me and the world doesn’t blow up, we were made for each other.” 

Jeno could only chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re always full of surprises aren't you?” 

“Well, clearly you liked the suspense so now we’re here aren't we?” 

You scrunched your nose in glee, your giggles tickling his lips before he closed the gap. It almost felt like a scene out of a movie, with the waves crashing into the sand not too far into the distance and the rose petals once scattered neatly onto the path circling their figures from the wind and most importantly you, the way your laughs sounded so melodic in his ears, your perfect smile glistening in the golden sunlight and how he could finally call you his. 

Jeno didn’t vibe with chaos and unpredictability. But weirdly enough, the suspense and wrecking ball of events you had brought into his boring old life he found himself compelled to. And for the first time, he found himself agreeing with Chenle and his weird beliefs of the universe because a part of him began thinking that he had indeed found his soulmate, his other half, his twin flame.

masterlist || previous | next 

pairing: jeno x fem! reader

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other, so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack

warnings: swearing

note: sorry for the delayed and short updateKAEBFOWWGBW ive been sick for the past week and been stuck in the worst writers block ever😭 but GUYSSSS the finale's next week can u believe it????

taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))) ~ @babyjenono @btssf9nct @baekksore @411star @jenyoonoh @igotkpoops @calumsmut @hs825 @liliansun @raikea10 @loveleejn @luv4jeno @rosabella1009 @ismileeprnc-responder @jenoists @222brainrot @sexygrass @culterycollector @kikookii @minkyuncutie @mrsyixingunicorn10 @tytrackfebreze @sehunniepot @choi-beomgyulvr @jaeminnanaaa17 @multifandomania06 @aerislovjeno @spilled-coffee-cup @artstaeh @tddyhyck @jeongintwt @aerivrs

permanent taglist: ~ @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @polarisjisung @dearlyminhyung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @daincty @deehyuck @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @rum-gone-why @mxnhoeuwu @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @haechansbbg @moonchele

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original? 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round. 

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance. 

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray! 

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.  

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty. 

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF 

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.