#the perfect second in command not the guy in the spotlight

[meowshinjiro]

kinda want a fic where newt opens up to thomas post canon about his jealousy. wishing he was the one thomas could telepathically communicate with. hoping thomas would have eyes for him when newt’s always kept his focus on the other boy. but he feels like he’s the one following thomas’ footsteps, knowing that he might never catch up to thomas’ side like others have been able to effortlessly do.

he mentions how it drove his bitterness towards teresa, towards aris, towards anyone who thomas had somewhat of a connection with - because he wished it could be him in that spotlight. newt knew it was wrong, and that these people did nothing wrong, but the pain in his heart was too unbearable to ignore.

he needed the cure - he needed thomas.

[winxanity-ii]

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

ship: fashion designer!gojo x fem!model!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (fem. receiving hand-job/fingering; overstimualtion; p in v ; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos) word count: 6.6k (i'm gagged cuz i swear it wasn't that many words as i was typing 😭😭💀) A/N: Hey, bubbly-bear! just wanted to let you know i've moved from my my alt account to my main one, so i'm posting your request here…

Request:Hello! I had a lil gojo x reader idea but if you aren’t vibing with it please dont feel like you have to write it, or change it how you see fit! BUT I feel like Guess (ft. Billie E.) By Charlie xcx is so Gojo coded and I would love to see a fic based off of it if possible :)

p.s. mwaaaaahhhhh, thx you so much for being my first request, hope i did you justice 😩✨

This line from the song just stood out to me and i just had to write it:

I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it Pull it to the side and get all up in it Kiss it, ride it, can I fit it?

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

"Turn your head like that—yes, perfect! Raise your chin a little more. Hold it!" The head photographer's voice cut through the organized chaos, every word precise and demanding. "Lighting! Can we adjust the back light, it's catching too much glare!" Another barked command as assistants scurried to fix the harsh spotlight casting an overexposed halo on you. "Makeup! Fix the lipstick; it's smudged." The pace had been relentless, as it always was on set. The camera had clicked, capturing each second of your endurance, but all you could focus on was the way your body ached.

Your feet, crammed into designer heels, screamed for relief, and your back burned from holding poses longer than it felt natural. You shifted your weight slightly, hoping no one noticed as the clicks of the camera went on like rapid fire.

"Alright, people, ten-minute break!" Finally, the head photographer clapped his hands, giving everyone the much-needed signal to stop.

A bell rang faintly in the background, and your shoulders slumped as you let out a groan.

You dropped the strained pose you had been holding for what felt like an eternity. You rolled your neck, feeling the tension snap and release in your joints.

The lights dimmed slightly as Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuji sauntered over from the swimwear shoot, and you couldn't help but notice how their outfits screamed for attention—both in completely different ways.

Nobara was in a skimpy two-piece swimsuit, the top barely enough to cover her small bust, accentuating her slim waist. The delicate straps dug into her skin as she pulled at them, clearly annoyed, though the outfit highlighted her toned frame with every step she took.

The bottom piece clung to her hips, just barely covering enough to maintain some modesty, with high-cut sides that emphasized her long legs.

Despite the discomfort written across her face, Nobara moved with confidence, her slender figure not going unnoticed by the photographers still milling around.

She scrunched her nose. "This swimsuit is killing me," she muttered, fingers fidgeting with the ties around her waist. "Honestly, whose idea was it to make swimwear this uncomfortable?"

Yuji, in contrast, had an air of ease about him, rocking a pair of matching swim trunks that coordinated with Nobara's outfit—an intentional design that somehow made their shoot feel like a playful, couples-themed editorial.

His bare chest gleamed under the studio lights, each of his perfectly sculpted abs on display as though carved by a sculptor. His body was toned yet muscular, the kind of physique that didn’t need fancy clothes to stand out.

With sun-kissed skin and that infectious grin, Yuji could have made wearing anything look effortless.

"C'mon, Nobara, we don't have that much longer. Besides, you look great," Yuji said, his voice lighthearted as always.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, says the guy who could wear a trash bag and still smile like it's no big deal."

You let out a quiet chuckle as Yuji gave you a wink before being called away to review some of the shots. He shot you a playful smile over his shoulder as he walked off, his broad back flexing slightly under the pressure of moving around in the hot lights.

"Ugh, I swear, if Yuji keeps this up, I'm going to barf," Nobara muttered, shaking her head as she sidled up next to you, arms crossed over her chest.

The two of you made your way toward the refreshments table, where the scattered models and assistants buzzed like bees around a honey pot.

You could feel the material of your own outfit shift as you moved, the delicate knitted vest you wore slightly hugging your upper body. It was all part of the 'clean girl' aesthetic your stylist had chosen for you—a knitted cream-colored vest over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pleated schoolgirl skirt that swayed with every step.

It was simple, yet chic—the kind of outfit that made you feel both elegant and casual at the same time.

Yet, despite its light, airy look, the long hours standing in the heels were starting to make your feet scream. The snug fit of the vest only heightened the strain on your tired muscles, adding to the sense of exhaustion.

Nobara leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming as if she was about to share the juiciest tidbit of gossip she had yet. "So, did you hear about Kaori and that photographer? Apparently, they got caught in one of the back dressing rooms."

You raised a brow, barely hiding your amusement. "Kaori? The one who's been eyeing everyone since day one?."

"Oh, and you didn't hear this from me," Nobara continued, lowering her voice even more, "but Sumi told me that Yuji's been getting cozy with that new model, Megumi. You know, the quiet one? Well, they—"

You groaned, cutting her off. "Don't you ever get tired of knowing all the messy things?"

Nobara rolled her eyes dramatically, her lips curling into a smirk. "Never~" she said, before nodding toward the side entrance. Her voice took on a mischievous edge as she added, "Just like I know you never get tired of denying that your new stylist wants to fuck you."

You practically choked, your eyes widening as the words hit you. "W-What?" you sputtered, your face heating up. You let out a shaky laugh, then coughed, trying to gather yourself. "Stop saying that…"

Nobara's smirk only grew wider, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, come on. The man practically undresses you with his eyes every time he's around. You can't tell me you don't notice the way he looks at you. The man's got designs on more than just your clothes, babe."

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you averted your gaze, unsure how to respond.

It was hard to deny that your stylist's hands lingered just a bit too long during fittings, or that his gaze seemed a little too intense when he adjusted the fabrics on your body.

The clean, tailored looks he designed for you always felt more intimate than the pieces he created for other models. But surely, it was just part of his meticulous nature, right?

"I-It's just professional," you stammered, glancing down at the drink in your hand, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the growing knot in your stomach. "He's focused on the designs, Nobara. That's it."

Nobara snorted, giving you a knowing look. "Yeah, okay. If by ‘designs’ you mean figuring out how to get under your clothes, then sure. But I mean, I'm not complaining. If I were in your shoes, I'd fuck him."

Before you could respond, a shadow fell over you both, and you didn't need to look up to know who it was. You felt his presence before you saw him.

There, leaning casually against the side of the refreshment table, was Gojo Satoru, the man in question.

His signature smirk played on his lips as those piercing, ice-blue eyes of his scanned over you over his shades, and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it lingered on your skirt.

"Ladies," Satoru drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with charm. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too scandalous?"

Nobara raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing look before stepping back. "Oh no, nothing at all. We were just talking about your... designs," she said with a sly grin before stepping back. "Guess, I'll leave you two to it," she teased, nudging you as she walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone with him, heart racing as you met his eyes. His grin only widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"So..." Satoru murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in slightly. "Anything you'd like to confess?"

Your throat went dry, and you could only shake your head, praying that he hadn't overheard Nobara's playful remarks.

But judging by the gleam in his eyes, you had a feeling he probably had.

Your heart raced as you tried to compose yourself, swallowing back the nerves rising in your throat. You forced a smile, though it felt shaky at best. "I don't have anything to confess," you said, attempting to keep your voice light. "Is there anything you need help with?"

Satoru's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming as he straightened up, his hands casually slipping into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "As a matter of fact," he drawled, "you could help me with something."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Before you could ask what he meant, two of Satoru's assistants appeared at his side, as if on cue, each one wearing the kind of professionalism that didn't quite mask the urgency in their steps.

Without explanation, they began to gently but firmly usher you toward the changing quarters.

"W-Wait—what's going on?" you stammered, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru, who followed behind leisurely, his long strides giving him an air of complete control. "Why am I changing? I thought my shoot was almost over?"

"Oh, nothing much," Satoru sing-songed, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. "I just had a chat with the higher-ups about pushing up the date for a few of our theme releases. Ya'know, rearranging which models get which looks."

Your confusion only deepened, and you blinked owlishly, trying to make sense of his words as you were guided toward a small room at the end of the hallway. "But—what does that have to do with—"

You trailed off as you stepped into the changing room and saw the mannequin sitting in the center. It was draped in an outfit that made your breath catch in your throat. A short leather miniskirt, sleek and shimmering, paired with a crop bodycon top that clung to the mannequin’s torso like a second skin

The entire ensemble was a bold combination of black and silver, with metallic bangles adorning the arms and a choker embedded with silver and black accents.

But what truly caught your attention was the soft sheen of baby blue that ran through the outfit—a shade that was eerily similar to the blue of Satoru's eyes.

You stared at the outfit for a moment, taking in the platform boots that completed the look, their towering heels intimidating yet alluring. The whole ensemble screamed nightlife, clubbing, a world of flashing lights and pulsing music.

It was striking, to say the least.

The assistants wasted no time, setting down various items on a nearby table while preparing the room for your quick change. But you stood frozen, blinking again as realization slowly dawned.

Satoru leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an almost lazy amusement.

"You're joking," you muttered, half in disbelief.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

You glanced back at the mannequin, the black and silver catching the light in a way that made the outfit seem even more eye-catching.

The baby blue accents shimmered faintly, bringing your thoughts right back to Satoru, his confident smirk and those eyes that seemed to follow your every move.

The outfit looked like it had been designed for you—and only you.

The assistants were already moving around, gesturing for you to start changing, but your mind was still reeling. "You... moved up the schedule?"

"Had a feeling this look was perfect for you," Satoru said casually, pushing off the doorframe and walking further into the room. "Wanted to see it on you sooner rather than later."

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your chest as you stared at the mannequin once more.

The way Satoru's gaze lingered on you sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if this entire thing had been orchestrated just for his amusement, his design, his vision.

The assistants handed you the top, a fitted crop that shimmered in the light, the baby blue accents standing out against the metallic silver.

You reluctantly grabbed it from them as they moved off to remove the other pieces from the mannequin.

The room felt warmer all of a sudden, like the air had thickened, and you couldn’t shake the tension prickling at the back of your neck.

You lifted your gaze only to find Satoru already staring at you, his eyes locked on yours in a way that made your breath hitch. You cleared your throat, your voice shaky as you tried to break the spell. "Shouldn't you leave? I need to change."

Instead of moving, his lips curved into that trademark smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'll have to stay and oversee things. You know, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. I can swoop in and fix anything if needed."

Your face burned, heat rushing to your cheeks as his words lingered in the air.

You weren't naïve. You'd worked with dozens of stylists before, all of them meticulous, always staying to make sure the fit was perfect. But none of them ever made your skin tingle the way Satoru did.

None of them ever watched you like they were imagining a thousand different things beneath the clothes. And none of them ever made you feel like you were burning alive from the inside out with just a look.

Heart pounding, you turned away, hoping to escape his gaze. You began undressing, slipping out of your current outfit.

Each movement felt amplified, like you could feel the air around you, charged with tension. You reached behind yourself, trying to steady your breathing as you fumbled with the zipper.

You could practically feel his eyes on you, mapping out your body, lingering on every curve as if he could see right through the fabric.

Your skin prickled, the sensation of his gaze making it hard to even think straight. Every breath felt labored, every second stretched too long.

As you reached behind to unclip your bralette, your fingers trembling slightly, you felt a pair of hands cover yours—large, warm, and deliberate.

The shock froze you in place, your breath catching in your throat.

"Allow me to help you with that…" His voice was low, velvety, and it sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear.

The world narrowed to that moment, the heat of his presence overwhelming your senses. His fingers gently brushed against yours as he unhooked your bralette, the touch feather-light but filled with an unspoken promise.

You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, the room suddenly too small, too hot, with Satoru towering behind you, his hands so close, too close.

Every nerve in your body screamed in protest, but your heart betrayed you, hammering in your chest as a low pulse of desire curled through your veins.

His hands slid away as he stepped back, giving you room, but the mark of his touch lingered long after he'd let go.

It left you breathless, the space between you charged with something dangerous, something unspoken that hung heavy in the air.

Satoru's smirk never wavered, his eyes still locked onto yours in the reflection of the mirror. "There..." he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "...All done."

You stuttered out a soft, breathless, "Thank you," barely able to get the words out before Satoru turned on his heel. His presence seemed to consume the room, but as he barked an order to one of his assistants, the pressure finally lifted.

"Adjust the lighting for the next setup! And I want the backdrop changed in five minutes!" Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. With one last glance over his shoulder at you, he strode away, leaving the room in a whirlwind of activity.

As soon as he was gone, it felt like you could finally breathe again. The air in the room cooled, the weight of his lingering presence fading, though not entirely.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled the leather skirt up over your hips, the fabric snug against your skin. Satoru's assistant helped you with the bodycon top, tugging it into place, adjusting the hem and smoothing out the fabric as it clung to your curves.

The outfit was bold—almost too bold—but it fit like a second skin, highlighting every line of your body in the way only Satoru's designs could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of camera clicks, flashing lights, and endless posing. Hours slipped by, the sun gradually lowering as the shoot continued, stretching longer than expected.

Nanami Kento, the photographer overseeing everything, was a perfectionist. His no-nonsense attitude left no room for error, and his eye for detail was unmatched.

He had insisted on waiting for the natural dusk light, arguing that it would complement the metallic sheen of your outfit and bring out the best in the overall composition.

You had worked with Kento before. His bluntness and unwavering pursuit of perfection made him a tough taskmaster, but he was one of the best in the industry.

Shoots paired with him always led to increased success. His images captured not just the clothes, but the mood, the essence of the model wearing them.

He and Satoru were at the top of their game right now, the dynamic power duo behind many successful campaigns, and you couldn't deny how they both pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

"…And… that's a wrap!" Kento's voice finally cut through the endless camera clicks, sharp and definitive. The faint ring of a bell followed, signaling the end of the shoot.

You exhaled a long, relieved breath, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders.

The shoot had taken the remainder of the day, from midday to the last golden rays of dusk.

The combination of Satoru's exacting demands—making you pose in just the right way to show off the outfit—and Kento's insistence on perfect lighting meant you'd spent hours standing, twisting, and holding uncomfortable poses.

The tightness in your back and shoulders made it clear how long you had been at it. Your feet ached in the platform boots, and your muscles screamed for rest.

As the assistants began to pack away the equipment, the space slowly emptied out. The other models and staff had long since finished their own shoots and left, leaving only you and a skeleton crew behind.

The studio, once alive with chaos, was now eerily quiet, the low hum of final tasks being completed the only sound in the background.

You peeled yourself away from the set and made your way back to the dressing room, feeling the tightness of the leather skirt with every step.

The corridors were deserted now, with most of the team having wrapped up hours ago. The silence was almost jarring after the noise and flurry of the day.

You were exhausted, every muscle in your body protesting as you moved.

Finally, you reached your dressing room, the door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The sight of the empty space—the vanity mirror now bare, clothes and shoes scattered—was a welcome relief.

The day had been long, but now you could unwind.

As you closed the door behind you, the quiet settled over you like a blanket, offering you the peace you desperately needed.

You stumbled into the room, barely keeping yourself upright as exhaustion weighed down your limbs. Practically dead on your feet, you began peeling off the clothes that had felt glued to your body for the last several hours.

The crop top slipped off first, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You didn't care where it landed as you walked over to the couch in the center of the room, facing a large squared mirror. Each step felt like a weight being lifted from your sore muscles.

A cool draft brushed against your bare torso, making you shiver slightly as it passed over the sheen of sweat from the long day. Your fingers worked at the accessories next, unfastening the bangles around your wrists and dropping them carelessly.

The metal clanked against the floor, loud in the otherwise quiet space. You massaged your sore wrists, the cool air soothing the raw skin where the jewelry had pressed tight against you.

Your fingers then moved to the choker at your neck, tugging it free and letting it fall beside the rest, relieved to feel the soft touch of air against your throat.

Your mind began to drift, wandering somewhere far away from the chaos of the day. You thought about what you'd do when you got home.

Maybe snack on those yogurt bites you found at the grocery store earlier that week. Or maybe you can finally binge-watch that series you'd been meaning to catch up on.

The thought made you feel a little lighter.

Hell, you can even spend tomorrow doing absolutely nothing, you have nothing booked!

You were right in the middle of imagining your lazy day ahead, fingers working the clasp of your bralette, when the door creaked open behind you.

"Hey! I'm—" Your arms instinctively rose to catch your slipping bra before it could fall completely. Your heart raced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

You looked up at the large mirror in front of you, eyes wide, only to lock gazes with Satoru, lounging casually against the doorway as if he had all the time in the world.

"—undressing," you finished, your voice dropping to a shaky whisper.

Satoru's lips curved into a faint smirk, his gaze shameless as it raked over your disheveled appearance. He tilted his head slightly, looking over his shades at the scattered accessories and top on the floor. "You know," he said, his voice light with a playful edge, "you really shouldn't leave my designs lying around like that. It's almost disrespectful."

For a moment, you thought he'd bend down to pick up the items—his creations, after all. But instead, he strolled right past them, making his way toward you.

Your breath hitched, your body freezing in place as his steps closed the distance between you.

Satoru's eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were darker now, more intense as they followed the lines of your form.

He moved with the kind of confidence that left no room for doubt. And as he reached your side, standing just behind you, his presence loomed, filling the small space with the heat of his gaze.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the cool draft that had once been a relief now doing little to cool the flush rising across your skin.

Satoru stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him making the cool draft on your bare skin feel like a distant memory. His presence was overwhelming, filling the small room until all you could focus on was the warmth seeping from him and the way his gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, almost idle, "a lot of my best designs… they're not the ones I spend weeks perfecting." His words drifted through the air like a secret. He raised a hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the faint indents the choker had left on your neck. The touch was barely there, yet it sent a shiver running down your spine. "No… the ones that really stand out," he continued, "are the ones that light up in my mind every time you fall into my vision."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his chest now just inches from your back.

The heat from his body wrapped around you like a second skin, and you watched him through the mirror, mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

His hand, warm and deliberate, trailed slowly down your arm, his fingers brushing your skin with a tenderness that felt both comforting and dangerous.

"You're my muse," he said, almost as if speaking to himself, lost in the thought. "Every second I spend watching you, seeing you wear my designs, it's nothing but inspiration." His hand continued to drift lower, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before sliding back up, pulling you just slightly, coaxing your body into his.

Your breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling with each shallow inhale as you were drawn back against him, the solid warmth of his chest pressing into your bare back.

Your gaze flickered to the mirror, watching the scene unfold before you—his hand resting lightly on your waist, his eyes tracing the outline of your form as if committing every curve, every inch of you, to memory.

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, fanning against your ear, and it made your head spin, your thoughts running wild.

"Every touch," he murmured, his lips brushing just above your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Every glance…" His voice dropped, becoming something darker, heavier. "I can't stop thinking about how perfectly you fit into my designs. Like you were made for them—or maybe… they were made for you."

His hand trailed down your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and you watched him in the mirror, breath hitching in your throat. Then, his lips ghosted over your ear again, the warmth of his breath making you tremble as he purred, "But you know… I keep thinking about something else…"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you felt him shift closer, his chest now flush against your back. The air between you crackled with tension, thick and almost suffocating, and yet you couldn't pull away—you didn't want to.

His hands pressed against your waist as he lowered his voice to something almost sinful. "…How perfectly you'll fit around me."

The words slipped from his lips, dripping with raw, undeniable desire, every word reverberating through your skin, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your breath stilled in your lungs, heat coursing through your body as your mind raced.

Wait a minute—what's… b-but—

His arms tightened around you as his mouth hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me you feel it too," he groaned, his voice low, growling with need as his fingers dug into your hips. "Tell me you want it… just as badly as I do."

Finally, your mouth seemed to catch up with your thoughts. "S-Satoru—"

Your voice once again falls away as Satoru's arms tightened around you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. You felt his chest rise and fall rapidly, pressing into your back, his grip around your waist possessive, firm.

Then, in a voice so raw, so desperate it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered, "Can I... have you?"

The words tumbled from his lips in a near whimper, laden with a hunger that bordered on pleading. His breath hitched, his forehead brushing against the back of your neck as if even he was losing control of the space between you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your mind trying to process everything, yet failing to hold onto any coherent thought. His words, the way they sounded so needy, left you breathless.

You watched him in the mirror, his reflection almost ghostly in the low light of the room. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as they lingered on your form, and his lips, parted slightly, looked dangerously close to speaking something sinful, something that would push you over the edge.

The room was silent except for his panting breaths in your ear. You could feel his need in the way his arms wrapped around you, in the way his fingers pressed just a little too tightly into your skin.

"Say yes..." he breathed, his voice low and pleading, his lips now trailing down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every soft, almost teasing touch. "Please... just say yes."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body frozen in place as your mind blocking out everything else but Satoru.

The sound of him, the feel of him, the way his voice came out in that almost whimpering tone—it consumed you, leaving no room for anything else but him.

Finally, a breathless, barely audible "yes" escaped your lips, the word trembling from your mouth like a whimper, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of the moment.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Satoru. His wicked smirk grew, a gleam in his eyes as he dipped his head lower, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your skin.

The heat of his breath against your neck sent shivers racing down your spine, making your entire body tense.

"Good girl~" he purred softly into your ear, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pulled you down onto the couch, his movements fluid and effortless. You landed in his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest, legs bent and pulled up on either side of him, facing the mirror.

our thighs immediately began to burn from the stretch, the leather skirt you wore sliding up all the way, exposing the lace underwear beneath—the same light blue that matched the bralette you'd worn earlier.

The delicate fabric contrasted sharply with the heat of the moment, and your face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes caught the sight of a small wet patch there.

Your heart raced as you tried instinctively to close your legs, but before you could, he gently tapped your thighs with his fingers, his smirk never faltering. "Aht aht," he scolded lightly, his tone playful but firm, making it clear that he was in control.

His arms slid under your legs, lifting them slightly and pulling them farther apart.

The stretch made you gasp, thighs burning as he forced you all the way back against his chest, your body now fully reclined into him.

His grip was strong but not painful, holding you in place as his breath ghosted over the side of your face.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your legs spread wide, your flushed face, and Satoru's darkened gaze fixed on you, his expression one of total control. His was voice, low and teasing, rumbling against your ear. "Look at you... perfect," he murmured, holding you tightly against him, his arms securing you in place, his presence overwhelming.

The reflection showed more than just your vulnerability—it was the power he had over you, and the way he reveled in every second of it.

Satoru's left hand slowly trailed down your body, his touch feather-light at first, but purposeful. The cool air kissed your skin as his fingers slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, his hand pressing firmly against your most sensitive spot without pulling the fabric to the side.

The sensation made your breath hitch, and your entire body tensed as his fingers began to move, rubbing slow, deliberate circles along your slit, teasing and drawing out every bit of tension you’d been holding inside.

His fingers trailed gently up and down, gliding over your skin as if he were mapping you out, testing your every reaction. He found your clit with ease, rubbing small, teasing circles that sent jolts of heat through you, the slow rhythm making it impossible to think straight.

Your thighs twitched, the stretch around him making the sensation even more intense. The heat of embarrassment flooded through you as your body reacted, and when you turned your face away, unable to watch the reflection of what he was doing to you.

Satoru clicked his tongue softly in disapproval. "Uh-uh," he murmured, his voice dark with command. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch what I do to you."

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your gaze reluctantly shifted back to the mirror.

His hand kept moving, the slow rhythm intensifying, the way he touched you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. His reflection was smug, pleased, as he watched you fight to keep your eyes open and focused on what he was doing.

It was an order, and disobeying felt impossible.

When his finger slipped inside you, your body jolted slightly, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. His movements were slow, deliberate, each stroke inside you making it harder to think.

One became two, both pumping in and out of your clenching heat with a slow, deep rhythm. He kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you in place against his chest as he worked his fingers deeper.

His breath was hot against your ear as his grip on your body tightened, his voice a low groan as he spoke. "You know what I can't wait to do?" His words sent a new rush of heat through you, and he chuckled softly at your reaction. "I can't wait to taste you... spend hours learning every inch of my muse's body. Watching you come undone again and again and again."

The promise in his voice made your mind reel, the intensity of his touch and his words leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as your pulse raced.

A particularly well-angled thrust had your back arching, a breathy moan slipping free. "That's it..." he praised, curling his fingers so they can brush against your G-spot again. "You're so wet for me... So responsive."

His thumb joined the fray, rubbing firmer circles over your clit that had your hips rolling mindlessly to meet his touch. He worked you higher and higher, stoking the flames of your pleasure until you were teetering right on the edge.

And still, he demanded you watch. Compelled you to observe the wanton display you made, his dark gaze devouring you from over your shoulder.

"Come for me," Satoru growled against your lips, his fingers pumping furiously now. "Let go. Now."

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. You shook and shuddered in his hold, a cry of ecstasy torn from your throat as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from your spasming body.

Satoru swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply as he continued his ministrations.

Only when you collapsed bonelessly against him did Satoru still his hand, drawing his glistening fingers from your depths. He brought them to his mouth, maintaining eye contact through the mirror as he licked them clean with a shameless moan.

"Delicious~" he purred, voice rough with satisfaction. "My perfect muse."

You felt weightless, the tension from the day—hell, the whole week—melting into nothingness as the lingering echoes of your orgasm left you in a daze. Your body felt loose, relaxed, like all the stress had finally evaporated, and for a moment, you simply existed, floating in the aftermath.

Then, you felt your thighs shift wider, and a small, confused sound escaped you before you even realized it.

Satoru's low chuckle filled the quiet room, dark and amused. "You didn’t think that was it, did you?" His voice dripped with mischief as his hands moved to adjust you in his lap. He shifted beneath you, pulling his pants down slightly as he repositioned you, pulling you higher onto his lap.

The movement pressed you closer to him, allowing you to fully feel him underneath you, hard and insistent. His hand returned to your underwear, the long digits returning to rub away at you.

The sudden pressure made your back arch instinctively, a small whimper escaping your lips from the mix of sensation—equal parts pleasure and the discomfort of being played with beyond your limit.

"Silly girl," he tutted softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. His hand returned to your waist, the grip firm yet tender, as he tugged your underwear to the side, filling you in one stroke.

You both froze for different reasons—your legs trembled as you felt the stretch, trying to stay tethered because he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, while Satoru groaned, overwhelmed by the tightness that enveloped him.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch, eyes fluttering closed.

You let out a broken whimper, arms growing weak and giving out beneath you. You collapsed slightly forward, your forehead resting against his thighs as you tried to adjust, to find some relief from the pressure.

Satoru growled softly at the sight, his hands gripping your waist with more purpose. He pulled you fully down onto him, your hips flush against his.

"S-Satoru..." you moaned, your voice shaking, tears welling in your eyes as the sensation became overwhelming.

His hips jerked forward in short, deliberate movements, and your body responded, helpless to the rhythm he set. "T-that's right, baby, say my name..." he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hands guided you, pulling you back down with each upward thrust.

He lifted his hips to speed up the movements. You could only cling to his thighs, breathless and powerless against the force of his desire.

Satoru kept going, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer, filthy words laced with desire. His grip on your waist was tight, almost bruising, as he held you firmly in place.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—wet, slick noises and the rhythmic squelching with every movement.

The intensity of the moment wrapped around you, heightening every sensation, your body overwhelmed by the pressure building inside you.

Your second orgasm was approaching too quickly, the wave of pleasure rising fast, almost too much to handle. Desperation washed over you, and you tried to scoot forward, to slow things down, but Satoru's response was immediate—he went faster, his thrusts growing erratic.

You let out a choked cry, begging for him to slow down, but he only groaned in response, his pace relentless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and then it hit you, like you were thrown over the edge. Your eyes fluttered closed as the blinding pleasure rocked your entire frame.

Your body shook, every nerve alight as the intensity consumed you. You could hear Satoru cursing under his breath as you trembled in his arms, your body a quivering mess in the aftermath.

And then you felt it—the heat of him filling you, spreading through your lower body in a rush of warmth. Satoru let out a long, drawn-out groan, pressing himself flush against you as he reached his climax. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving as he stayed close, savoring the feeling.

Before you could catch your breath or say anything, Satoru moved again. He pulled you back slightly, and you gasped, the sudden movement sending a mix of pain and pleasure shooting through you.

His hands snaked under your thighs, lifting you carefully from his lap. He groaned softly as he watched his release spilling from you, leaking out as he admired the sight.

Satoru gave a low whistle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "What a sight to see," he hummed, his voice thick with amusement. One of his hands trailed down to your entrance, his thumb gently grazing over the sensitive skin.

He played with your sticky entrance, his fingers teasing, before pressing back to plug up the fallen release. Your thighs twitched in response, a shiver running through you at the sudden sensation.

You called out his name for what felt like the third time, your voice weak but pleading. "Satoru..."

He let out a tired but satisfied chuckle, his hand pulling away as he finally relented. "Fine, fine," he murmured, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. He settled you down on his lap again, this time pulling you close to his chest, cradling you as his arms wrapped securely around you.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his breathing slowing as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

The night grew quiet, the tension fading into a comfortable stillness, but even as you relaxed against him, your mind wandered.

As the night went on, you couldn't help but think: Nobara was fucking right.

A/N: lolol, sorry for the influx of smut guys, promise this won't be like an everyday thinjg.... 👀 anyways, hope this was up to your standards and wasn't too bad bubbly-bear, i tried my best to make it work to the song...😭

[kentobb]

⊹₊⟡⋆ The Bet ⊹₊⟡⋆

Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader x Gojo Satoru

⊹₊⟡⋆ Masterlist ⊹₊⟡⋆

Warnings: Suggestive content.

Chapter 01

You’ve always known your place in the world.

The quiet one. The overachiever. The nerd. Your identity is a sum of academic accolades, a steady stream of perfect grades, and the quiet approval of teachers and professors. They praise your dedication, your punctuality, and your sharp mind. Students tolerate you. You’re useful when group projects roll around or when someone needs last-minute homework answers. Beyond that, they keep their distance.

You don’t blame them. Socially, you’ve always been… lacking. You’re an introvert through and through. Conversation is a hurdle, and parties make you feel like a fish flopping on dry land. But the truth is, you’ve made peace with your solitude. Better to exist on the sidelines than risk rejection by stepping into the spotlight.

It’s a routine you’ve mastered. That is, until Ryomen Sukuna walks by.

You’re moving through the bustling college hallway, textbook clutched tightly to your chest, when the loud voices of the football team cut through the air like static. You don’t have to look to know who they are. The athletes. The popular ones. The untouchables.

But there’s one voice that stands out above the rest, one figure who naturally commands attention.

Sukuna.

The moment you see him, your stomach twists in a way you hate. He’s impossibly good-looking, with sharp features, smoldering eyes, and a smirk that seems permanently etched onto his face. His confidence radiates off him like heat. Girls adore him. Professors cut him slack they wouldn’t dream of giving anyone else. Even guys can’t seem to hate him, not entirely.

He’s everything you’re not. Charismatic, magnetic, popular. And the worst part? He knows it.

You grit your teeth and keep walking, eyes fixed on the linoleum floor. You’ve spent years trying to squash the stupid crush that sprouted in high school, but it lingers like an old scar, refusing to fade. You hate how your heart skips whenever you see him, hate the way your palms grow clammy at the sound of his voice.

Because guys like Sukuna don’t notice girls like you.

The bell rings, slicing through the chaos of the hallway. You quicken your pace, weaving through the thinning crowd until you reach your finance class. It’s your sanctuary. Numbers make sense to you. Spreadsheets and formulas are puzzles you can solve, a language you speak fluently.

You settle into your usual seat—second row, third desk from the left—and arrange your notebook and pens in neat order. The classroom fills up slowly, the buzz of conversation a low hum in the background.

Dr. Aramaki strides in moments later, his presence commanding as he sets his leather briefcase on the desk. He’s a seasoned professor, his gray hair and sharp eyes giving him an air of authority. He launches into the lecture without preamble, writing “Investment Risk Management” on the board in neat, precise handwriting.

You’re already scribbling notes when the door creaks open.

“Sorry, prof. Practice ran late.”

The voice sends a jolt down your spine.

Ryomen Sukuna saunters in, his duffle bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His damp hair glints under the fluorescent lights, and the faint scent of cedar and mint wafts your way as he passes by.

Dr. Aramaki doesn’t even flinch. “Take a seat, Sukuna. And next time, try to be on time.”

Sukuna grins, unbothered, and scans the room. To your horror, his gaze lands on the empty desk behind you.

He sinks into the chair, the legs screeching against the tile. Your heart pounds as his presence settles behind you, a tangible weight.

You try to focus on the lecture, but every movement he makes—every creak of his chair, every muttered comment to the guy beside him—distracts you. You feel his eyes on the back of your head more than once, and it takes everything in you not to turn around.

Then, a light tap on your shoulder.

You freeze.

Slowly, you glance back. Sukuna is leaning forward, his notebook blank in front of him, a pen dangling loosely from his fingers. He flashes you a grin, all teeth and effortless charm.

“Hey,” he whispers, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What page are we on?”

Your brain stutters. For a second, you forget how words work.

“Uh…” You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes are brighter up close, twin embers smoldering with something unreadable. “Page eighty-four.”

“Thanks.”

He smirks again, and you whip back around before he can say anything else, your cheeks burning.

The class feels like it’s dragging, and for once, your meticulous note-taking has been replaced by idle doodling. Your pen sketches swirling patterns along the edges of your notebook, a habit you’ve developed over the years to keep your nerves at bay.

Dr. Aramaki finishes a particularly dry explanation on risk assessment, then clears his throat, his voice cutting through the hum of the lecture hall.

“Alright, everyone. Listen up,” he says, taking a clipboard from his desk. “For this project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

Excited whispers ripple through the room as students glance around, already scouting for partners. Your shoulders relax slightly. People rarely rush to partner with you, so you’ve resigned yourself to whoever’s left.

“Don’t bother,” Dr. Aramaki announces, raising a hand to silence the room. “I’ve already assigned the pairs.”

The collective groan that follows is almost comedic.

You, however, are relieved. Group projects always devolve into awkward negotiations, and you’d rather avoid the hassle. At least this way, you can stay in your lane.

Dr. Aramaki begins reading off the list, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Gojo and Nanami.”

You hear Gojo’s delighted laugh and Nanami’s deep sigh of resignation. It doesn’t take a genius to guess how that partnership will go.

“Geto and Kawahara.”

The list continues, and you focus on your doodles, trying not to overthink. Whoever you’re paired with can’t possibly be worse than—

“Y/L/N and Sukuna.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You freeze, your pen hovering mid-air.

This can’t be happening.

“Keep in mind that this project is for the end of semester and it’s 80% of your grade.” Dr. Aramaki emphasized.

Your heart sinks as your mind scrambles for an explanation, a way out, something. But no. Dr. Aramaki has already moved on, and Sukuna, seated behind you, doesn’t even flinch.

The rest of class is a blur. You force yourself to act normal, though your hand trembles slightly as you scribble in your notebook. Doodles multiply along the margins, aimless swirls and stars filling every blank space.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture, you’re the first to start packing up. Your goal is simple: leave before Sukuna says anything.

But, of course, the universe isn’t that kind.

A light tap on your shoulder stops you in your tracks.

You turn to find Sukuna standing there, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering a second too long, and then he says the words that make your brain short-circuit:

“Are you Y/L/N?”

Your jaw tightens. You stare at him, utterly dumbfounded.

How does he not know you? You’ve known him since middle school, sat in the same classrooms, attended the same schook events. It’s impossible to miss someone like Sukuna. Yet, here he is, looking at you like you’re a stranger.

“Yes,” you say flatly, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

“Cool.” He nods, completely unbothered. “Give me your number so we can figure this project out.”

The request is simple, but your brain struggles to process it. For a moment, you consider asking if he’s serious—if he really doesn’t recognize you—but you stop yourself. What’s the point?

Wordlessly, you pull out your phone, avoiding his gaze as you hand it over. His fingers brush against yours briefly as he takes it, and even that small contact sends a jolt through you.

Sukuna types in his number, then hands the phone back. “There. Just text me or whatever.”

“Okay,” you manage, still feeling like you’re caught in some bizarre dream.

“Thanks.” He slings his bag over his shoulder again, turning toward the door. “See you around or something.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

The interaction lasts less than a minute, but it leaves your pulse racing like you’ve run a marathon. You glance down at your phone, where his name now sits in your contacts list, and something twists in your chest.

You tell yourself it’s just nerves, nothing more. He’s just your project partner.

But deep down, you know that’s a lie.

Sukuna stepped out of the classroom, his expression as unreadable as ever. The hall buzzed with activity, students heading to their next classes or hanging out by the lockers. His eyes landed on his teammates near the far end of the hallway, bickering as usual. He sighed, making his way over, already sensing trouble brewing.

He reached his locker, tossing his duffle bag inside, and glanced sideways at the chaos unfolding next to him. Nanami stood stiffly, his arms crossed like a parent scolding a child, while Gojo leaned casually against a locker, a picture of indifference.

“I’m telling you, Gojo,” Nanami says, his tone tight with frustration, “you need to step up and actually contribute this time. I’m not doing the entire project alone again.”

Gojo leans casually against the lockers, sipping a drink with an infuriating grin. “Relax, Nanami. I bring more to the table than you think.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Nanami snaps.

“Uh…” Gojo says as he thinks.

Nanami glares. “How about actual work?”

Nanami’s glare darkened, but before he could retort, Gojo glanced at his watch and straightened. “Oh, shoot! Gotta go! My Spanish exam starts in five minutes.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “You studied for it, right?”

“Si,” Gojo said confidently, giving him a thumbs-up.

Nanami sighed. “¿Eres idiota?”

Gojo paused, tilting his head in confusion. “Uh… biblioteca?”

Nanami groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sukuna chuckled under his breath. Gojo, completely unbothered, threw up a peace sign and sauntered down the hall, leaving chaos in his wake.

“God help him,” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

Sukuna smirked. “What’s he even doing in Spanish class?”

“Who knows?” Nanami replied.

The two stood in silence for a moment before Nanami turned to Sukuna, his usual frown softening slightly. “So, who’d you get paired with for the project?”

“The nerd,” Sukuna said flatly, rummaging through his locker.

Nanami raised an eyebrow. “Y/L/N?”

Sukuna glanced at him, closing the locker door. “Yeah. You know her?”

Nanami stared at him like he’d asked if water was wet. “Seriously? She’s been in our classes since middle school.”

Sukuna shrugged, unbothered. “Don’t remember.”

Nanami shook his head. “Of course, you don’t.”

Sukuna leaned back against the lockers, arms crossed. “What’s the deal with her? She some kind of overachiever or something?”

Nanami rolled his eyes. “That’s an understatement. She’s the reason the grading curve exists. You’re lucky to have her as a partner. She’s a workhorse. Unlike me, who’s stuck with…” He grimaced. “…someone who thinks ‘Google Docs’ is a streaming service.”

Sukuna chuckled. “Tough break.”

“Tell me about it.” Nanami smirked faintly before glancing at Sukuna. “You wanna switch?”

Before Sukuna could respond, a voice cut in, sharp and amused. “Switch? Nah, Sukuna’s not switching.”

The two turned to see Mahito sauntering up, his signature grin plastered on his face. Behind him was Jogo, his presence as calm and collected as Mahito’s was chaotic.

Mahito leaned lazily against the lockers, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Sukuna doesn’t need to switch. He’s got a system, right?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “What system?”

“You know,” Mahito said, smirking wider. “Your whole thing. Flirt with your group partner, flash that charming smile, get into her pants, and voilà—she does all the work for you.”

Nanami sighed heavily, his disapproval radiating off him. “Doubt is working with this one.”

Mahito turned to him, mock surprise on his face. “Why not? It’s worked on every other girl.”

“Because she’s different,” Nanami replied simply.

“Different?” Sukuna repeated, his voice sharp with irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nanami met his gaze steadily. “It means she actually takes her work seriously. She’s strict, focused, and won’t put up with your nonsense. And, quite frankly, you’re not on the same level… socially.”

The words hit like a bomb.

“Damn, Nanami!” Mahito howled, clutching his stomach. “Straight for the throat!”

Jogo chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

“Not on the same level?” one of the other guys echoed mockingly.

“Different social levels! Down bad, Sukuna!”

“Boo! Sukuna, you’re slipping!”

Sukuna clenched his jaw, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. His glare swept over the group, but Mahito wasn’t done yet.

“You know what?” Mahito said, his grin turning cruel. “I bet you won’t even make it through the project without her tearing you a new one. Forget hooking up with her. She’s out of your league.”

Jogo smirked, arms crossed. “I’ll take that bet. $100 says he can’t.”

The hallway erupted in laughter and jeers as Sukuna’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Shut up,” he snapped, slamming his locker shut with a little more force than necessary.

Jogo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s the matter, Sukuna? Afraid you can’t pull it off?”

Sukuna turned to him, his smirk dark and sharp. “Fine. You’re on. But when I win, I don’t want excuses.”

Nanami groaned audibly. “This is a terrible idea.”

“An amazing idea,” Mahito corrected, grinning from ear to ear.

As Mahito finished his jab, his laughter echoing in the hallway, the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the noise. The group turned as one to see Geto standing there, his imposing figure leaning casually against the wall. His dark eyes swept over them, calm yet commanding.

“What’s going on?” Geto asked, his tone even but edged with authority. His confusion was evident, though his calm demeanor gave nothing away.

The air shifted immediately. The teasing and laughter died down as everyone averted their gaze, falling into an awkward silence. No one dared to speak up, suddenly reminded of their captain’s presence.

Nanami, who seemed completely over the entire ordeal, sighed heavily. “They’re children,” he said flatly, brushing past Geto without so much as a second glance. “I have better things to do.” With that, he strode off toward his next class, leaving the rest of the group frozen.

Geto tilted his head slightly, watching Nanami’s retreating figure before turning his attention back to the remaining guys.

Mahito gave a half-hearted shrug, but even he didn’t have the nerve to add anything under Geto’s scrutiny.

Geto straightened up and addressed the group. “Practice is at 7 p.m. sharp. No excuses. Don’t make me hunt any of you down.” His gaze lingered on Mahito and a couple of others, making them shuffle uncomfortably.

Finally, his attention landed squarely on Sukuna. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. “And you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “don’t be late. Last time was strike one. You’re not getting a strike two.”

He didn’t wait for Sukuna to respond, deliberately brushing his shoulder against Sukuna’s as he passed by.

Sukuna stood still for a moment, his jaw tightening as he watched Geto walk away. The guys around him stayed quiet, their eyes darting between Sukuna and the captain. Sukuna could feel the tension lingering in the air, but he refused to let it show.

“Who does he think he is?” Sukuna muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Mahito smirked, but the others stayed silent, knowing better than to stoke Sukuna’s temper further.

Sukuna’s fingers curled into fists for a moment before he relaxed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t wait for the day he became captain—when he’d finally put Geto in his place.

“Practice at seven,” Geto’s voice echoed from down the hall, as if to punctuate the moment.

Sukuna scoffed, slamming his locker a clang.

[zzeraphilm]

his hidden notebook

akaashi keiji x f!reader part two summary: akaashi keiji found that writing poetry was the best way to express his desires word count: 1,573

Akaashi found himself writing more poems in his free time, away from practice and away from Bokuto. Somehow, his muse was always Y/N. When he saw the fluttering, falling flower petals that dance in the wind, he’d think of her. When he saw the ripples of the Tama river make a kaleidoscope of rainbow shades, he’d think of her. When he saw the luscious greenery bloom from a night of rain, he’d think of her. 

Scribbles from spare scraps of paper turned to neatly written notebooks full of dancing words. He kept this side of himself far from the world around him. It was a precious solitude that allowed him to see visions of beauty that was sacred to only him. His notebook of poems was holy and for others to read it would be disastrous. 

Y/N knew of Akaashi from her friends, the only boy who could keep up with the boisterous Bokuto from the volleyball team. Whilst being in the same class, she doesn’t remember speaking to him once. She had spoken to Bokuto numerous times as he was the shining sun of their class. But Akaashi was another name on the class register for Y/N. 

Presumably, they didn’t share any interests. With Akaashi being on the volleyball team and Y/N being a part of the music club with her own band. The two would always be on two separate sides of the classroom, the school and in the world. It was until one afternoon during band practice, she peered out of the window of the music room on the second floor. She saw Akaashi look up to meet her glares from across the courtyard. Sure, the windows were wide open and anyone and everyone can hear their latest melody. But Akaashi wasn’t focusing on the music, rather he had zeroed in on Y/N.

He was entranced by her power and command with the rest of her band members. He saw the sun shine a dazzling spotlight onto her through the curtains, as if she was on stage performing to millions.

Akaashi knew of Y/N’s talent, they were his muse after all. There were many nights where he would fantasise a time between Y/N and him, where she would lull him to sleep with her soft voice, singing to only him.

Akaashi had found the perfect spot to gaze upon Y/N’s performances, a few paces to the left of the second bush on the far left corner of the courtyard. At exactly 4:35PM on a Wednesday afternoon without fail, Y/N would begin her vocal exercises before her bandmates could join her. She always left the windows open, either for fresh air or to have the whole world stand still to her voice. These Wednesday memories would fuel Akaashi’s mind full of imagery solely of her. He couldn’t wait to find any spare parchment to scribble his ideas down, he was drunk with imagination because of his muse. 

Y/N found his presence, unnerving. He didn’t smile nor showed any interest when they locked eyes on each other. But Akaashi did not move away or break contact, rather he remained still. 

“What you looking at?” She shouted, leaning out of the window.

Akaashi gave a slight smile, his lips moved to reply but he was so far that Y/N could not understand.

“Huh?" She yelled. "Dude, you’re a bit of a weirdo aren’t you?” Y/N laughed him off, shut the window and walked back to the music room, disappearing from Akaashi’s line of sight.

~

“Yeah, and he was just like there! I swear, he’s spying on me! Everywhere I look he’s there, I’ve never even spoken to the guy, like who is he?” Sat in a circle around her desk, her friends continued to whisper the latest gossip of their weeks. Y/N had brought up her encounter with Akaashi in passing whilst she ate her lunch, but after demands from the others, she caved and spoke her suspicions.

She didn’t hate him per say, rather she was alarmed by the ‘coincidences’ of their encounters, she hadn’t realised it before but he was always within her peripheral vision. At each turn, he’d be there in passing or to the side. 

“Ah! Do you think he likes you Y/N?” The girl to the left of Y/N teased, leaning closer into the circle, since the topic of the conversation was still sat in the same classroom as them during their break. 

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions.” With a final sip of her cartoned juice, Y/N squashed the cardboard box in her fist. “For all we know, he could be a stalker.” 

Poor Akaashi could feel the stares from the group of girls from the back of the classroom. Hunched over on his desk, he crossed out the latest stanza he wrote this morning till the paper ripped.

Was he a stalker? He didn’t mean to come across this way. Maybe he should clear the air with her. 

He stood up abruptly, the crowd of students around Y/N flipped their heads around to face him, eyes bulging from their skulls. As if they had seen a ghost. Akaashi awkwardly walked up to them, he felt his stomach sink further and further towards the floor with each step. Before he could get face to face to his muse, Bokuto slammed the door wide open calling for him. Dragging him out the room before he could object. Akaashi was torn between feeling relieved for escaping a possible social suicide in front of his classmates or disappointed in his cowardice. 

Once he was far from view, the group of gossiping students collided together again and their whispers got louder and louder till some where squealing and cackling. Y/N kept looking at the now closed door, he looked so sad, she thought. His eyes didn’t seem to belong to a stalker, but there was a lingering shadow of loneliness behind his long eyelashes. 

It wasn’t until the late evening Y/N found Akaashi after leaving the gym, he was so focused on scribbling in his little pocketbook that he missed the last two steps out of the gym, causing him to tumble and the scrap pieces of paper tucked in the pages of his pocketbook flew into the sky, like confetti falling delicately across the ground. Whilst the awkward situation, Y/N rushed to help him, picking up a crumpled up sheet of paper, her eyes briefly caught a few words on the page. Before Akaashi could stop her, she had already read the entire poem. 

“Woah…this is…good.” 

Akaashi ripped the page from her hand, a slight shake in his nimble fingers. “Don’t mock me.” He continued to pick up the rest of the pages and slot them back into his pocket book, digging his fingers into the wood of the cover. 

“What’s with the hostility bro?” 

“Earlier, you spoke about me as if I wasn’t there. I’m not some stalker, I’m not a creep.” Despite the thousands of beautiful poems he has written for nearly two years now, he couldn’t think of a single word to describe how he actually felt.

“Yeah, that’s totally what a weirdo would say.” Y/N teased. “Sorry, I know you mean no harm. It is strange though, watching me from a far all the time. Would rather you come up and talk to me y’know?” There it was, another dazzling smile. Unlike the past, Akaashi can see it mere inches away from him rather than metres. 

“Honestly, Akaashi the way you write its like some of my favourite songs. Poems are basically songs anyways, they’re lyrics waiting for a melody. The rhythm and cadence of each line you wrote there, it was like you were cradling all of your emotions with every word you scribed. Some writers can’t even get their point across, let alone the emotions you pour into yours. You’re incredible.” 

Y/N slipped out a piece of paper that was poking out of his pocketbook, and began to read them aloud. 

‘We dance like daisies,  bare in the meadows we lay. A little heaven’ ‘You stand tall, bright, fair caressed by the stars above. Grace me with your smile’ 

“Akaashi, these are beautiful. I’m not mocking you this time. I could even use some of your stuff for the band! I mean it’s not 100% our style but we can work together on it!” 

“That won’t be possible. I can’t have you sing these words.”

Y/N tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed and with a slight giggled queried a soft ‘Why?’

With a deep breath, he grabbed the end of her question with an iron grip.

“Because they’re about you. All of them. I write them, whenever I see you sing, when you walk down the halls or when you daze off into space during English class. I catch images of you in my mind from moments where you’re always out of reach, where you bless others with your shining aura. Y/N, you’ve been my muse for all of my work.” 

Y/N felt the rush of blood to her cheeks, bright red, she could feel the heat radiating from her face. A slight quivering lip and darting eyes, trying not to focus on Akashi’s stare. A tiny smile creeped its way to her mouth, she couldn’t help but feel so enamoured. 

[infolane]

ARC V MONTH DAY 25 - Woe, Angst Be Upon Ye

@arcvmonth​

Today’s entry is writing :> About Sora in Academia and the whole place in general really.

CW: Child abuse.

The adult world comes knocking.

One can’t run from it. Can’t hide. Can’t say a thing- once the spotlight is on you, the best you can do is learn how to dance to its whims as fast as you can.

That’s all.

You are tired. Your body aches from a day of classes and physical training. 

This is the process of refinement of a toy. These are the sensations of being recycled.

And that guy has called upon you again today.

Earlier, you ran under simulated rain, boots sinking into the mud, ears full of the sound of thunder and teachers on horseback. This, a playhouse simulation of the battlefield you were made fit for. You cut a path through empty houses to avoid minefields. You climbed out of buildings to get through before the explosion caught you. 

The world was grey and your hands became bloody trying to climb up wet ropes, using rocks jutting from the ground as untrustworthy but necessary aids.

Beside you, someone else lost their grip.

There was just a sound.

You didn’t look that way. They’ll be alive, you’ve fallen like this before. When you were small, smaller, less coordinated, eyes wider with fear.

The training reaches into your mouth to rip the fear out of your chest until you don’t even mind death. Because toys don’t die, they just get discarded.

Don’t discard me!

So your heart cried out hearing that noise and speeding up outside towards the end of the simulation area.

You should rest at night, but not today. Your pajama feels hot, your hair is let loose. From here on, you are ��Number Five, for Clear Blue Skies”. A type of cut and look away thing, so that you’ll keep walking on your own two feet no matter what. 

Sora is many things, but a quitter he is not.

Hey, ever wonder why people would agree to teach someplace like Academia? 

To Sora that question is almost nonsense. Agree? No, no. In that world, everything is hammered tightly in place. Everyone follows orders, everything is, necessarily, correct if it comes from above. Everyone show your open hands… The only measure of reality is the Professor.

Such is the right way to be a soldier.

Truth is, teachers come in one of two flavors:

First, those completely blinded by faith in the Professor. The chasers of utopia who can excuse anything so long as it serves the grand cause of Academia. Miopic, strict, chasing dreams with blood at their heel- but that isn’t most people.

No, no. Most people are the second kind.

They want power, power to do anything they would like without supervision, without pesky rules and morals to get in the way. That is just the perfect environment for that- for selfishly chasing one’s own entertainment however one would like, so long as part of the output to those actions are good soldiers.

Soldiers who won’t whine. Won’t cry.

Sora doesn’t get it. Toys don’t cry.

Won’t whine.

“Just play with me plenty”, the only wish afforded.

Won’t hide.

But where? As far as Sora knows, they are omniscient. 

Won’t run.

Where to? Why? This is fate and it cannot be changed.

The little soldier who creeps out of his bedroom when lights are off, moving like a puppet drawn on strings to obey commands that the mind abhors.

You have a cute face. That’s something you are aware of, something you have been taught to put to good use as a spy. The youngest member of Obelisk Force is also the one who can charm anyone.

But your body is a different story. 

There are scars. Scars from a time when you, devoid of parents, freshly taken in by Academia as one of the orphan student class, did not yet know how to be a gold star student.

Your arms, your rough hands. Your torso, with that one big scar from an explosion. Your thighs, your calves. 

Your back.

The disciplinary staff is fond of riding crops and similar. That guy is even worse, too. It’s a mess, you can’t see it, but it’s bad.

Your body is an object that has been hardened under flames to be able to endure everything, anything. 

And atop it, your face that looks like you want to get hurt.

The giddiness, the cruel midnight butterflies.

You don’t have a reason to cry, so you don’t. You follow the rule, cutting off emotions into little drawers, wearing whichever mask can get you through things unscathed.

Partition.

Tesselation.

Broken mirror.

When you do an outstanding job you are given a lollipop. It’s a sweet taste that no other meal ever has. You skip them sometimes, unable to tolerate the blandness of it all.

You’d rather taste the sugar.

Creaking, snickering, ruffling, your breath getting faster. And then you aren’t anymore, simply floating, dreaming of a place where toys can have fun earnestly, never to be caught up in the looms again. A place where the taste won’t dissolve. Where the rain is warm, the sky is wide and there are no oceans anywhere.

You sink into it, but never wish for it.

Once again: “Play with me plenty” is the only wish you can have. The toys no one cares about become cards, see? Something like the prey, or not. 

Prey is alive. You lot aren’t.

A book said something like that at some point. About becoming real.

Those who are fragile, who have to be treated with any care, they don’t become real. To be real you have to loved until you can barely stand on your own, missing pieces, shabby, shaking, crushed under weight.

But it isn’t enough.

Feeling both warm and cold, you don’t even recall the walk back to your room.

You are like children are- always unsure, always talking and thinking around it, unable to give it a name.

Tomorrow will be another day.

Your mind is slanted. Your right eye is now injustice and you can feel the interface between your legs and dead crow feet. Those are signs of thoughts that want to scream that it hurts, but cannot and will not.

You have no reason to cry. Anything else would imply something bad about Academia, would hurt the Professor who so kindly took you from the reject bin into a future.

So kill these thoughts. They are biting the hand that feeds you.

Sit down, then lie down.

Your hands rise to your face, fingers pressing around your eye, rough and flooding your vision with black and primary kaleidoscopes and rings of light.

Justice, justice. 

Life in this place has warped your thoughts into this. Strange, discordant behavior, sudden changes in mood and the way you carry yourself. Fate, shackles, you are certain that the only emotion you have is happiness. Crowtoy. Plaything.

When the sun comes up, say your thanks for this life.

The adult world comes knocking and you are a gracious host.

[clonememesfrikyeah]

GUYS WHAT THE FUCK

I was reading the new Obi-Wan comic series that came out this year and- JeSUS CHRIST WHAT THE ACTUAL NAME OF FUCK DID I JUST LAY EYES UPON

⚠️TW: bones, descriptions and depictions of death, some fucked up type shit and all around horror and despair.⚠️

So the plot of this comic is obi-wan is on Tatooien reflecting about the past and this one was coming to terms with all the death caused by the war. The flash back is about when him and Anakin were sent to look for a natborn commander named Mekedrix who went missing after the republic lost the temple of Edit on Devaron and was suspected to have gone rogue and created, for lack of a better term, a terrorist group set on just killing literally everything. And oh boy did they. So when Obi-wan and Anakin get to where the base is suspected to be they confirm that yeah that’s their guy who created a rogue group dedicated to annihilating all life and their base is an ancient sith temple that’s legit oozing so much evil out of its walls that it latched onto and corrupted this traumatized non-force wielding officer. Ok so now that you get the plot, on the the real point.

THE REAL POINT IS THAT THIS MAN WENT SO CRAZY MAD OBSESSED WITH DEATH HE MADE A SWORD OUT OF BONES. AND NOT JUST ANY BONES. THE BONES OF A CLONE. BECAUSE HE THOUGHT THEY WERE THE PERFECT KILLING MACHINES AS THEY WERE MADE, BORN, LIVED AND DIED FOR THE SAKE OF DEATH. WHAT THE FUCK.

And it’s just- A LOT to process. But I feel like they just brushed over the fact that this guy was out here doing some really fucked up, sick phyco shit in favor of making Anakin and Obi-wand story sadder than it already was. Like yeah this guy was traumatized and corrupted by the dark side but I feel like he didn’t deserve the sympathy or the spotlight he got. At the end they really focused on how sad his corruption and death was, especially since he had been a good friend of Obi-wan and Anakin.

But I feel It should have focused on the horrors he committed against the platoons of clones he slaughtered for the sake of killing. Like, if you look at those slides up above the base is just littered with dead troopers, he’s legit wearing their armor in some sick gesture of admiration. But I will give the writers this; even though the main focus in the Obi-Wan comics is obviously obi-wan, they did a good job at subtly highlighting the fact that the clones were indeed slaves to the republic, forced to carry out all its dirty biddings. And the way it’s highlighted is horrific and terrifying. In life the clones were created to be weapons, used to kill, abuse by the world around them. And even in death they were defiled and disrespected like that. Mekedric made a weapon out of them, used it to kill innocents and their own brothers, used them literally down to the bone, used them as a stepping stool to obtain power and fear over others. And the only acknowledgment that kind of horror got was Anakin, filled with fury and disgust, what was his name. What had been the name of the trooper Mekederic has murdered, torn apart, reconstructed into something unrecognizable and was now holding their remains in his hand as a trophy. To which Mekedric reply’s that they were just as good as droids, they had no names, they were just things too him. That trooper had just been another nameless casualty cast aside without a second thought. And the thing is, Anakin and Obi-wan probably never said a damn word about any of it to Rex or Cody. Those troopers would have no closure, no one who mourned them, no clone would ever know the horrors that their brothers had been subjugated to. Because of this most clones would go on to never realize how trapped they were, how much they were being used, the extent of the abuse, and how nearly every natborn felt about them. They were just tools in the eyes of the republic; literal living weapons that could be mistreated however seen fit.

[scxrlettwxtches]

a crown of thorns | hwang hyunjin

genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, slight violence

description: a few years have passed since your tumultuous beginnings with the enemy king, hwang hyunjin, and to everyone’s astonishment, your marriage flourished with an abundance of love. however, this was not yet a happy ever after, and danger still lurks within every corner of your peaceful kingdom.

word count: 14.0k+

a/n: ack the more i read this, the worse it seems to get haha. but guys!! this is my last fic on this blog!! thank you again for all the love you’ve shown me and my writing. <3 wishing everyone all the best!! 

As he sat on his throne, absently chatting away with foreign envoys, Hwang Hyunjin considered himself rather lucky for a multitude of reasons.

All the princes and the lords sitting around the table, enjoying the tea and pastries, had everything one could want in the world. Endless fountains of wealth, resources, luxury. Whatever they desired, they only needed to snap their fingers, and someone would provide. It was the type of life many in his kingdom could only dream about in their wildest fantasies.

But, underneath the splendor, Hyunjin could see it as bright as day. Beneath the material luxury was discontentment, unease, unhappiness. Many of them were married to people that they did not love, were tied to their own wealth as it was the only sense of stability in their lives. And above all, Hyunjin could sense their loneliness, the invisible--yet deadly--disease that latched onto the heart and knawed at it until it was nothing but a shriveled remain. It was a poison that had no identifiable cure, and its affects only magnified as time went on.

Hyunjin could see it all because, once upon a time, he was just like them. Sitting on the throne, he was merely staring at reflections of his past self, a shell of a boy that was forced into a position of power too soon with too few people he could trust. He saw himself in the young lord that was visiting from across the sea, his eyes alight with ambition and a thirst to prove himself. He saw himself in the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom, the mistrust laced in every sip he took of his tea. He was like that once: scared, angry, betrayed, and alone.

But with a strange twist of fate, his life changed for the better. He found people he could trust. He met the love of his life. Unbelievably, he even married her, slowly earning her respect and eventually, her heart. And now, Hwang Hyunjin was no longer the boy with a crown too heavy and a life too lonely. He had people he cared about deeply, he had people he wanted to protect with his whole being. Especially…

“Papa! Papa!”

Hyunjin’s ears perked up as the large, ornate wooden doors of the hall creaked open ever so slightly, and a pitter patter of frantic footsteps bounded into the throne room. Almost immediately, he felt a smile grace his face, all the tension draining out of his posture as he gazed at the little girl, his darling daughter. 

Even the most stone-hearted envoys and esteemed guests could not hide their smiles as the girl ran excitedly towards her father, “Papa!” She giggled again, clumsily climbing up the steps to the throne.

Hyunjin’s heart fluttered with pride as he watched his daughter clamber up the marble steps, and for a split second, the image of her sitting on the throne as the next queen flashed across his mind. One baby step at a time, he reminded himself, and he stood up, easily picking up the girl as she gripped onto his sleeves.

“Naeun,” he brushed the baby hairs out of her face and smiled at her rosy cheeks. Time and time again, he was reminded of how much his daughter had begun to resemble the both of you. She had his doe eyes, but her smile, that was all you. 

The meeting became completely irrelevant to Hyunjin as he lavished all of his attention on her, “What are you doing here?”

Naeun, who was breathing heavily from all the running she had done, huffed and pouted rather sternly, “Mama said that if you stay in the office all night again, mama will dwag you back to the bedwoom.” 

Hyunjin fought the urge to laugh, utterly charmed by Naeun’s petulant words. How hard had she prepared to relay such a fiery message? He climbed up the remaining steps with the girl in his arms and sat back down comfortably on the throne, gently placing her on his lap.

“Papa is very sorry,” he said solemnly, bringing her little hand to his lips so he could kiss the back of it, making her giggle and squirm, “Did your mama send you here to tell me that?”

“Nope! But mama miss you!” Naeun replied brightly, and by this point, none of the guests were able to hide their endeared smiles and chuckles. Hyunjin felt a strange rush of both protectiveness and pride as he observed how easily Naeun had stolen the spotlight in the room with her joy and her innocence. It must be a father instinct that he was beginning to develop.

“Ah, mama misses me?” Hyunjin didn’t even know his heart was capable of containing such unbridled happiness and love as he smiled at his daughter. Naeun nodded firmly, and Hyunjin rubbed her back as he smoothed down her pretty princess dress, making sure she was comfortable before addressing the guests.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he said with perfect politeness, ever the ideal host. As expected, not many people were even the slightest bit annoyed by the disturbance, and they all waved off his apology, continuing the casual conversations about trade, finances, and commerce.

When it was all over, and Hyunjin was finally able to adjourn with all meetings and any other activities he’d scheduled to entertain his foreign guests, he eagerly walked down the hallways to the royal chambers, with Naeun safely nestled in his arms.

“Papa?”

“Yes, my little one?” He replied, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s fin..finan…” Naeun’s face scrunched up with effort as she tried to put the word back together from her memory. 

Hyunjin smiled fondly; he’d noticed her eagerly listening during the meeting, trying to soak in all the new knowledge that was coming her way. Naeun was good at de-escalating tensions, especially when she did her usual thing of barging into meetings without a care in the world, but Hyunjin also liked to let her stay in meetings because the little toddler seemed genuinely interested. She never seemed like she wanted to be anywhere else, only blinking from person to person with her large doe eyes. 

“Finance?” He supplied helpfully, and Naeun nodded into his shoulder, “It’s grown up stuff.”

“I like grown up stuff,” Naeun said with all the seriousness that a three year old could muster.

Hyunjin laughed, “I know you do, petal,” he hummed, thinking of a good way to explain the concept, “You know when you like to play house with your dolls and Uncle Changbin?”

Naeun immediately brightened at that. She loved playing house with Uncle Changbin! He was always a bit grumpy, a bit reluctant, but they always had a great tea party whenever her mama and papa were busy. 

“Mhm!”

“And you always like to trade certain dolls for the dolls that Changbin brings?” Hyunjin asked. Once again, he felt enormous gratitude to his personal commander, Seo Changbin, for going beyond the responsibilities of duty to take care of Naeun. As much as you and Hyunjin tried however you could to make time for her, with royal duties, parties, meetings, and work, it was just impossible to spend large amounts of time with your lovely daughter.

“Mhm! Uncle Changbin brings pwetty dolls!” Naeun nodded.

Hyunjin felt the smile grow on his face as he held her in his arms. He’d been smiling more often ever since Naeun was born, “Exactly. And you always have to give a few of your old ones to get the new, right? Or choose a few toys to give to Uncle Changbin so he can donate them to the capitol orphanages?”

Naeun only nodded curiously. 

“That, in a way, is finance. Of course, it’s a little more boring than trading dolls, though,” Hyunjin tickled her tummy with his finger, distracting her as she wiggled and squealed. Truth be told, Hyunjin didn’t want Naeun to grow up so quickly, even if that was all she wanted to do. Hyunjin didn’t remember anything from his childhood except textbooks, lectures, and a crushing pressure from his father and mother to live up to their expectations. He would never wish that upon his daughter.

After one more turn around the corner, they finally arrived at the Royal Chambers, with Changbin and Felix standing guard on both sides of the entrance. 

“Hi, Uncle Changbin! Hi, Uncle Lixie!” Despite their attempts to teach Naeun royal protocol about how to address the Kingsguard, she had little regard for it, opting to wave from the safety of her father’s arms. 

Changbin’s normally passive, almost grumpy expression melted ever so slightly as he waved back at her.  Despite his constant statements about not wanting to marry and not wanting to start a family, having Naeun made Hyunjin realize that his commander was surprisingly good with children. But if anyone so much as mentioned it, Changbin would deny any evidence of such allegations. Felix, on the other hand, was absolutely besotted with the little girl and made no attempts to hide it.

“Hi, little princess!” He smiled, opening the doors to the most private section of the palace. Hyunjin chuckled, nodding respectfully to both men before walking in. 

“Now, where’s your mama?” Hyunjin murmured. Of course, you were supposed to be in the bedroom, but Hyunjin knew you better than that. 

Naeun giggled, as if she knew you were breaking some sort of rule, and pointed to the study, “There!” 

“Thank you, petal,” Hyunjin booped her nose fondly before walking into the study, creaking the door open slowly as not to startle you. 

Every time his eyes fell to you, he would be swept with a newfound love that was stronger and more powerful than the time before. Even though your back was turned slightly away, and he could only see the slight curve of your lips and the profile of you from the side, Hyunjin knew without a doubt that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

You didn’t seem to notice your family walking in, lost in thought as you stared at the window, a piece of parchment in your hand. Hyunjin smiled, knowing how concentrated you can get when it came to state affairs. He put a finger to his lips, indicating to his daughter to be quiet. Naeun covered her mouth with her little hands, nodding as he very gently placed her on the fluffy carpet so she could play with the toys on the ground.

“I believe the doctor’s orders were for you to stay in bed?” Hyunjin murmured softly as he gently draped a woolen shawl over your shoulders, his arms snaking around you from behind. Maybe you did know he was around, since you didn't seem startled by his presence and only smiled as his hands rested on your tummy.

“We have guests in our palace. How can I stay in bed when there’s so much to do?” You replied, leaning into his arms and physically relaxing against him.

“You can just leave the work to me,” Hyunjin pouted a little, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to handle the entire burden of royal duties. He couldn’t when you were pregnant with Naeun, and he couldn’t now. His hands rubbed your tummy through the silk nightgown as he gently placed his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, “It’s not good for the baby…”

Every time Hyunjin touched your tummy, it made you airy with disbelief and awe at how fortunate you were to have him. When you were a princess, long long ago, you’d never expected yourself to look forward to starting a family. But with Hyunjin, Naeun brought so much joy in your lives that neither of you could help but want another, and your prayers were answered when you became pregnant again around the time Naeun turned three. 

Part of why you were willing was because it awed you every time you saw how much Hyunjin cared. You knew how kings were, always drowning in their work, their duty, which always led them to crave independence, and then occasionally, turning to other women than their lawful wife. You knew that was the norm. Care, much less love, was something that royal women would be lucky to have.

Yet, Hyunjin gave it to you in the spades. Hyunjin cared, Hyunjin loved so much. You saw it every time he looked at you, you saw it every time he would gingerly place the crown upon your head before formal gatherings. You saw it every time he’d keep you close at parties, made sure everyone knew how much he valued you and your opinion. You saw it every time he looked at Naeun, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder that could only be reflected in your daughter’s own eyes.

And now, with the two of you expecting another child, you saw it in his fretting, his worrying, his constant attempts to keep you safe and healthy, even if he was a little overbearing.

“The doctor never said a little bit of work would harm the baby,” you pointed out, tilting your head back to look into his eyes as you cupped his cheek, “I’m checking myself, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are,” Hyunjin chuckled, and he could no longer stop himself, his lips pressing against  yours in a gentle kiss as he hugged you. You only hummed happily against his lips, enjoying the moment when you were suddenly interrupted.

“Yuckie!” Naeun squeaked out, causing both of you to pull away with a laugh. The princess was sitting on the ground with a soft plushie in her arms as she looked at her parents with disgust.

You burst into giggles, pulling away from Hyunjin to walk over to her, “Yuckie? It’s yuckie that your parents are in love?” You asked teasingly, pinching her cheek. Naeun giggled, trying to run away as Hyunjin suddenly lifted her up from behind, placing her in his lap.

“Kisses are yuckie!” She squealed, making both of you laugh as Hyunjin tickled her tummy.

Hyunjin smiled, chuckling, “Don’t ever let me catch you kissing someone else,” he warned. In all honesty, the idea of his precious daughter falling in love made his blood boil unreasonably. Especially in the royal realm, it was so hard to determine which ones were good and which ones were only hiding behind the mask of benevolence. Just the thought of Naeun falling in love, Naeun getting her heart broken by some good for nothing prince…

“My love,” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he felt a gentle hand on his arm. You smiled fondly, almost as you already knew exactly what he was thinking, as you always did, “Baby steps, alright? She’s not at that age yet.”

“Baby steps!” Naeun chorused, although oblivious to the conversation at hand. 

Hyunjin felt himself relax, and he engulfed his daughter in a big hug, letting her snuggle into his chest, “Yes, baby steps,” he murmured as he left a kiss in her hair.

.

“What do you mean, they won’t allow it?” You asked angrily, following Hyunjin into his study as he ran a frantic hand through his hair.

Hyunjin sank into his chair, frustration clear in his face as he glanced up at you, “The letter from the council came back. Apparently, there were some strong voices of protest, and eventually they decided to rule against it. They won’t accept Naeun as the heir.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You snapped, feeling steam practically radiating from your ears, “She’s the eldest child, our first born! They've had three years to observe her, and she's performed well in all subjects. She’s practically a genius!" 

You whirled around, tightening the shawl around your frame as you made up your mind to go to the council yourself when Hyunjin rushed over, intercepting you as he gently grabbed your arms, “Y/N, my darling,” you shook your head, not in the mood for his cajoling and gentle attention.

“I’m going to talk to them. They were relenting a couple months ago! I don’t see why--”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Hyunjin’s voice was suddenly stern, his hands running up and down your back to soothe you, “Calm down, love. Please. Think of the baby.”

You froze, the fight beginning to drain out of you as you tried to take deep breaths. Hyunjin’s hand trailed to your wrist, subtly taking note of your pulse to ensure that you were still alright. 

“I know you’re angry. So am I,” Hyunjin spoke, stepping closer to you and cupping your face in his gentle hands. Your eyes closed at his touch, feeling his warm embrace as his comforting presence, “But we need to deal with this slowly. There are foreign envoys still here, remember? We can’t go barging around the palace like we normally do, not until they leave.”

You huffed, knowing that Hyunjin was right, but still feeling churlishly angry at the news, “So we just wait?”

“We’ll discuss it once more when the council meeting is held again,” Hyunjin suggested, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m sure they’ll cave. Naeun is a perfect contender, the perfect candidate for the next heir. She’s just not what they’re used to.”

“And what are they used to? A son?” You said mockingly, your anger fueled by the ridiculous laws that were still in place. Your kingdom had long since done away with such petty things as male only rules, but it seemed like Hyunjin's kingdom was a little more traditional. 

“Yes, and you know how stubborn they are about it” Hyunjin murmured, palming your stomach, “They’re waiting for this little one.”

“They don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy,” you scoffed, but you could feel yourself relaxing in Hyunjin’s arms. The two of you were so alike and yet so different. Hyunjin was the cooling water to your raging firestorm. And you were the spark that light his ice cold heart alight with love for the first time all those years ago.

Hyunjin hummed at your comment, gently nuzzling his nose against your cheek, “I think it will be. Otherwise, I'd be awfully outnumbered in this family,” he said softly, kissing your cheek as he continued, “But no matter. I still want my precious Naeun to be the crown princess. The council just has stick up their ass.”

“Hyunjin!” You slapped his arm, pulling away to walk towards his study, sitting in the chair as you felt the baby kick once again.

The king only laughed at your glare, immediately rushing to your side as he took your hand, “The baby’s bothering you again, huh?” He asked, his eyes filled with wonder as he stared at your tummy. It was a silent, yet rather apparent question to you, asking whether he had permission to touch. It was almost adorable how childishly excited Hyunjin would get at the thought of his own children.

You gently placed his hand over the fabric of your dress, right over where you’d felt a slight kick just before, “It’s not a bother,” you said gently, “How can it be a bother when it reassures me that our child is safe and healthy?”

Hyunjin’s expression was nothing short of entranced as he felt a push against the palm of his hand, “I love you,” he murmured as he glanced at you, and he leaned forward to press his cheek against your tummy, to which you only smiled fondly and ran a hand through his hair.

“I love them, too,” he spoke to your stomach, as he had no doubt that your unborn child would hear it and know just how much their father cared.

The two of you stayed in that position, basking in the monetary relaxation for a moment longer, your hands gently running through his hair as he rested his head on your lap. It was definitely not a position that either of you would want to be caught in, but Hyunjin found himself rather fond of it, being able to let go of his responsibilities and rely on you for comfort without being anxious. 

You sat for a moment longer before a particular piece of parchment on Hyunjin's desk caught your eye, and you quickly reached for it as your husband continued to rest comfortably on your lap.

“There’s a party tomorrow night?” You asked, scanning the contents over as your free hand gently carded through his hair.

“Mhm, the envoys are leaving the morning after, so it has to be grand,” Hyunjin mumbled lazily in return, his eyes shut from mild exhaustion.

You hummed, putting the parchment down as you said softly, “If it’s the final dinner, shouldn’t I be there? I haven’t seen any of our guests except on the first day. It would be impolite if I missed the last event, too.”

“No,” Hyunjin’s grip tightened imperceptibly as he gently held your waist, lifting his head up to meet your eyes, “They understand your situation. It’s only natural that you haven’t been at all the events,” he said firmly, his hand absently moving towards your stomach.

“It’s still impolite. I should probably go,” you said softly, resting your hand over his, “We don’t want our guests to leave with a bad taste in their mouth.” 

Hyunjin looked uncertain, his eyes pleading with you as he pressed his lips to your knuckles, “If something happens…”

“Nothing will happen, my darling,” you cooed, trying to reassure your love as you sensed his fear. Hyunjin, underneath his cold words and powerful gaze, was just as human as any other man.

“It’s just a party. I won’t even dance, alright?” You continued with a cajoling smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek bone, “I just have to be there, Hyunjin. It’s my duty.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted against your touch, leaning his cheek into your hand and sighing softly, “I know I can’t change your mind,” he said, “You’re just stubborn like that, and I love it more than you know. But it scares me so much.” 

“It scares you?” You repeated his words, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. 

The king nodded, looking so vulnerable in your arms that you were afraid he’d break, “What if something happens? What if, one day, you overestimate yourself and you lose the baby? Or worse,” Hyunjin kissed your palm, holding your wrist in his hand as he gazed upon you with more pain in his eyes than you’ve ever seen.

“What if I lose you, too?”

Your heart shattered at the fear and the sheer amount of unconditional love that glistened in his eyes whenever they met yours, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you sighed, leaning forward to be closer to him, “It won't come to that.”

But Hyunjin couldn't hear reason at this point, frightening himself as he held your hand, “I can't rule this kingdom without you, without your love. You're the first happiness I've ever had in this lifetime.” 

“Hyunjin, you can and you have,” you argued, reaching to lace your fingers with his, “You were ruling wonderfully before we met.”

“It's not the same, darling, and you know it,” Hyunjin answered, kissing the pulse point of your wrist daintily, “You made me a better person and a better king.”

You couldn't help but smile adoringly, reaching your other hand to run your fingers through his soft hair, “I'm glad. You made my life happier than I ever dreamed it could be.”

Hyunjin sighed, melting into your touch. As always, he felt weightless in your arms, free of burden and responsibility. He didn't have to think of anything but you and him.

But alas, there was still a problem at hand. 

“Do you really want to attend the party?” He asked softly into the fabric of your dress, one of the comfortable ones he'd ordered to be specially made for you when the two of you discovered that you were expecting a second time.

“I do, Hyunjin. I think it's best that I take my place beside you, at least once before they leave. It'll quell any rumors about us and about my supposed ill health,” you explained your reasoning, understanding Hyunjin’s doubts but still feeling strongly about going all the same.

Hyunjin’s eyes opened slowly and he nodded in resignation as he stood up, “Alright. I won't stop you. But, my love, at least let me assign Changbin and Felix to you as your guards for the night.”

“Both of them?” You asked, standing up slowly to maintain your balance. Hyunjin didn't leave your side for a moment, holding your arm in case you fell, “Isn't that a bit much?” 

“It would make me less anxious to know you're well guarded,” Hyunjin pleaded with you, fixing the shawl around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the study. It was already quite late in the evening, with Naeun having been sent to bed long before. 

Your fingers intertwined naturally, and the two of you headed to your chambers, ready for a long night's rest, “Alright, assign both of them to me,” you relented, “I still think it’s a bit overkill.”

“You’d be walking around the town without a single guard if we went with what you thought was overkill,” Hyunjin chuckled, beginning to shed his uniform.

“Not true,” you protested weakly as you climbed into bed, already in your nightgown.

Hyunjin joined you soon after, engulfing you in his arms and his comforting scent as you let out a sigh of contentment, burrowing in his embrace, “Let’s get some rest, alright?” You said, sleepiness laced in your voice as you hummed softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured his response without a moment of hesitation, as if he’d been waiting all his life to tell you, “so much.”

.

Parties were hectic enough already, even more so when you had a hyperactive toddler to manage on top of the plethora of things that could already go wrong, from the banquet food to the entertainment. 

"Weeee!" Naeun squealed, running around the bedroom like a madman and trying to escape changing into her party dress. 

Before she could slip away, you managed to snag an arm around her waist, lifting her into your arms with a grunt, “Where do you think you're going, little princess?”

Naeun pouted, whining as she wiggled in your grasp, “Want to go play! Want to find papa!” She said with a huff. 

“Papa is busy right now,” you said patiently as you gently plopped her on the bed, trying to help her out of her nightgown while Naeun fussed, obviously not wanting to do as she was told.

“But I want to play with papa!” She protested as she eventually lifted her arms, letting you help her change. 

You sighed as you helped her into the beautiful golden dress, the fabric laced with ruffles and sparkling thread that was fit for any little princess.

“Papa is a little busy, alright?” You spoke gently, trying to make your lecture sound less like a scolding and more of an explanation, “There have been guests in Mama and Papa's home for the last few days, and Papa has been busy taking care of them.”

“B-but...what about me?” Naeun’s lower lip quivered dramatically, and you fought the urge to smile at how utterly adorable she was, “Papa take care of me!”

“You don't think Papa takes care of you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, “Papa spends all his free time with you, Naeunie. Papa takes caring for you very, very seriously.”

Naeun pouted still, her lip jutting out petulantly, but she let her head fall. Even for a three year old, the little girl was awfully perceptive, and knew when she'd lost an argument. And in her heart of hearts, she knew that her parents really did move heaven and earth to make her their top priority.

“Papa no stop taking care of me?” She asked softly as you buttoned the pearl clasp around her collar.

“No, my little one,” you answered with a gentle smile as you fixed her hair, “Papa and Mama will always take care of you. When this is all over, how about we stay a week at the summer residence? Just you, papa and me, and we'll have all the time in the world to play with you.”

Naeun gasped, bouncing on the bed, “Weally? Just us?”

“If you want, you can drag your Uncle Changbin to come with us, too,” you said slyly as you booped her nose, but instead of scrunching her face playfully as she always did, Naeun suddenly looked ashamed, head tilted downward as if she’d done something naughty and then felt guilty about it after the fact.

You were immediately concerned, “Little one?” You prodded, gently trying to tilt her chin up so she’d look at you, “Little one, what’s happened? You can tell Mama anything.”

Naeun hiccuped slightly, and your heart ached as you realized that she was on the verge of tears, “Mama, ‘m sorry,” she mumbled softly, eyes glittering with unshed tears and you quickly sat on the bed, pulling her into your lap.

“Why are you sorry, Naeunie?” You asked, trying not to sound frantic, worried, or anything that might frighten her more.

“Papa said Mama is tired, and that I shouldn’t bother Mama,” Naeun explained, large droplets beginning to roll down her rosy cheeks as she wailed, “But I’ve been bad bad! I make Mama worry!”

You tried to stifle your incredulous laughter as your daughter clung onto you, wailing dramatically as if the world was about to end. So that was what got her so worked up all of a sudden.

“Silly little thing,” you teased, cradling her in your arms as best you could with the bump of your stomach getting in the way. Still, you nuzzled your nose against her cheek, wiping her tears, “It’s mama’s job to worry. You’re a perfectly good girl, Naeunie. Mama and Papa are so lucky to have a precious girl like you.”

Naeun’s shoulders slowly began to shake as she rubbed her eyes, “Like me?” She repeated, a tinge of innocent hope and adoration laced in her voice that always raised your protective instincts, the instinct to shield her from any harm that this world could throw at her.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you spoke softly, “Just like you. Mama and Papa love you to the moon and back.” 

“And I love Mama and Papa, too! So so muchie!” Naeun parroted back happily, smiling with all the life and brightness that both you and Hyunjin lacked in your own childhoods. Maybe that was why the two of you were so determined to be there for Naeun in every way possible, to make sure that she knew she was so very loved. Because neither of you received that type of acceptance when you were children.

“Good girl,” you said, kissing her forehead once more before smoothing down her dress, “Are you ready to go?”

“Mm!” She nodded, clambering off the bed and standing tall, “Will Papa be at party, too?”

“Your papa is already there,” you chuckled to yourself, taking your daughter’s little hand and heading out of the bedroom.

Outside, both Felix and Changbin were waiting for you, dressed impeccably for the formal occasion. In normal circumstances, it would only be one of them waiting for you while the other guarded Hyunjin, but the king had not allowed any exceptions. Both of the strongest in the Kingsguard must be by your side for the day.

“Sorry for the wait,” you said to both of them as Naeun slipped away from you, skipping over to her two uncles, going especially for one in particular.

“Uncle Changbin, Uncle Changbin!” The man grunted as he caught her in his arms, shifting so she was eye level with him, her bright smile contrasting with his typical frown.

Felix walked with you as Changbin and Naeun entered their own little world, with the young toddler prattling his ears off and the commander listening with surprising attentiveness, “She plays favorites,” Felix complained playfully, clutching a hand to his heart as he stayed by your side.

“She definitely does,” you agreed with a fond smile, keeping an eye on your daughter as you walked down the halls, a hand resting on your tummy as you glanced at the man beside you, “Hyunjin is at the party, right? How is he doing?”

“When will the two of you ever not worry about one another?” Felix laughed, shaking his head, “Hyunjin caught me on the way up to your bedroom, asking about you as well.”

You shrugged, the sound and clamor of crowds and partying beginning to be apparent as you neared the ballroom, “That’s just married life, Felix. Trying to put the other person before yourself,” you glanced at him, the gaze in your eyes shifting into something more mischievous as you opened your mouth, “And maybe, you--”

“Nope! Not happening!” Felix interrupted you cheerfully, “You and His Majesty have just been on my ass about it, and it’s not happening!”

“Oh, but Lixie,” you laughed with him, taking his arm as you walked down the marble steps, “it’s really not all that bad!”

Felix’s gaze was soft as he gently patted your hand. He’d been assigned to the Kingsguard right around the time you were crowned Queen, and there was a sort of camaraderie that formed between the two of you from trying to navigate the ups and downs of palace life. He was a good confidante, and you very much valued his happiness.

“I’m happy here,” he said gently, looking into your eyes with his bright and genuine ones, “I’m happy looking after people that I care about. And for now, I don’t ever want to lose that.” 

You sighed, a smile gracing your face as you shook your head, “Alright. But if you ever change your mind…”

“You and His Majesty would be the first to know,” Felix promised.

The doors swung open, and the crowd quickly stood at attention as you entered the ballroom. Your gaze hardened ever so slightly, and your posture shifted, taking the persona of the respected queen that you were to the eyes of your people. Before you were a mother, or a wife, you were a symbol, an anchor of virtue.

Even Naeun was on her best behavior as she walked down with Changbin, holding his little pinky as she climbed down the steps. She seemed to sense her own importance, and did her very best not to mess up, making you break character for a moment as you smiled.

Your eyes caught sight of your husband standing near the throne, and his eyes twinkled with adoration when your gazes met. He put down his glass of champagne, quickly gliding through the room to receive you.

“God, he’s whipped for you, Your Majesty,” Felix muttered under his breath, “Does the honeymoon period never end--ow!” A discrete finger jab to the side was enough to shut him up.

Hyunjin’s smile was small and hidden, reserved just for your eyes as you made it to the bottom step, “Don’t you look beautiful, my Queen,” he murmured, chastely kissing the back of your hand before pecking your lips.

“Jinnie, not here,” you scolded lightly, letting him take your hand as Naeun rushed over, the crowd cooing with delight. Naeun had only been present in a handful of engagements before this particular party, and the people were still fully immersed in baby fever, entranced by the little girl.

“Papa!” She jumped at him, your husband bending down and catching her easily.

“Oh, my little petal!” His smile was bright as he held her securely, spinning her around, “Ready for dinner?”

“Mhm!” Naeun nodded, but not before placing a big kiss on her father’s cheek, “Miss you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching as the princess’s actions completely melted the crowed. She was definitely a natural. You remembered what you were like as a three year-old, scared, terrified, and always trying to hide behind your mother’s skirt even as she forced you to be independent. 

Naeun didn’t need that push, and you were grateful.

Hyunjin carried Naeun in one arm and escorted you with the other. Your eyes scanned the room, automatically taking note of certain esteemed guests and nobles. In the edge of the room, you noticed a few council members sitting together at a table, refusing to stand at attention for your entrance. 

"Is everything ready?" You asked as you carefully sat down beside Hyunjin, "The dinner, the entertainment-" 

“It’s all done,” Hyunjin smiled, pecking your lips before he placed Naeun in her chair beside his golden one, making sure she was sitting still, “Nothing to worry about.”

You smiled, grateful that your husband was so accommodating and willing to handle so much of the work while you needed your rest. Gesturing to one of the maids, you waved your hand, requesting her to start ushering the guests to their seats as food was about to be served.

As you continued to observe the room, making sure everything was running smoothly, you felt a gentle hand take yours, rubbing it soothingly.

“I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you,” Hyunjin murmured into your ear, making you blush slightly. Even after all these years, his forwardness always flustered you, made you feel like a giddy young princess rather than an experienced queen.

“Hyunjin, come on...not here,” you whispered back, letting his hand glide to your stomach, hidden from everyone’s view by the table in front of you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Hyunjin protested in a playful tone, gently patting your tummy before pulling away and gaining back some of his kingly aura right as the first dishes were served.

The banquet went without much of a hitch, to your relief. The atmosphere was overall genial and it didn’t seem like any of your guests had malicious intentions. Hyunjin, of course, grew a little ruffled when one of the young boys from the envoy’s family, no older than five, asked to dance with Naeun, but you argued that it was rather endearing to see the children stumble around the dance floor.

“Mama, that was really fun!” Naeun reported happily when she was sitting back in her seat, her hair slightly messy from twirling so much, “Want to do it again!”

“Never, not while I’m still alive,” Hyunjin muttered, rubbing his eyes halfheartedly as the memory of his precious little girl dancing with a boy replayed in his head. 

You laughed at the two of them, reaching over to fix Naeun’s hairdo so she didn’t look like an absolute mess for the rest of the evening, “I think your father wouldn’t be very happy with that,” you said teasingly, kissing her forehead just as the crown prince approached your table with a glass of fine wine in his hand.

“Your Majesties,” he spoke respectfully, exuding the perfect mixture of gracefulness and charisma as he bowed, “If I could do the honor of making a toast for the occasion?”

Of course, the request was posed as a question, merely to play to the ego and the pride of the hosts, but a toast was usually not something you could refuse. Doing so meant bad blood, tensions, potential rifts in foreign relations. Besides, the prince didn’t look malicious; you normally had a good sense of intuition about people, and the man standing before you and Hyunjin didn’t raise any red flags.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to sense anything either, and with a courteous smile, he waved his hand in agreement, “The trade deals we’ve made this time around are definitely a reason for celebration,” he said, “Although, I’ll have to drink on behalf of the Queen as well.”

The prince smiled at that, gesturing to one of his servants as they walked towards the table, bringing two gold encrusted wine glasses towards you, “We would never want to leave Her Majesty out. In consideration of her pregnancy, I’ve brought a specialty drink created from a fruit that is grown only in our country. It is harmless to the body, and said to bring good health and longevity to expecting mothers.”

Gasps and noises of approval filled the air as you tilted your head inquisitively, looking at the wine glass being presented to you. You could feel Hyunjin’s hesitancy, and you studied the prince’s expression carefully, but there really didn’t seem to be anything wrong. There wasn’t any point in making a big fuss over nothing.

Delicately, your fingers wrapped around the glass, picking it up and looking at the orange liquid. Hyunjin watched you carefully before doing the same with his glass, which held red wine like everyone else.

The prince smiled, relief obvious in his posture as he held up his own glass. He obviously had worried that you might reject the gift, thinking that it overstepped boundaries. 

“May our kingdoms stay allies through peace and through strife. To friendship!”

The crowd chorused the sentiment as you merely lifted the glass to your mouth, the liquid just about to touch your lips when you froze.

That scent. You remembered it when your physician had warned you against certain plants that were harmful to your body. As the queen of two nations, you were an obvious target, and there was never any telling with when someone with a cruel heart could slip a poison into your food or water. The scent was almost imperceptible, but you knew it was there.

Someone was trying to poison you, and they chose the most opportune time to do so.

Watching as the prince and your husband both downed their glasses, your brain was working a mile a minute, scrambling for a way out. You could you say outright that there was poison in the glass. That would put both your own staff and your guests in a terrible position. You didn’t have any proof that it was actually the prince who was trying to harm you, and making those accusations would all but tear the alliance apart. 

Your heart must’ve been pounding so loudly that the people around you could hear. You kept your face placidly calm as you decided on your course of action, and very subtly tapped your finger against the wine glass three times, a signal that Changbin had taught you in order to alert the Kingsguard of danger.

Both Changbin and Felix saw your movement, and so did Hyunjin out of the corner of his eye. He turned, his expression slowly morphing into shocked anger, something you had not wanted to happen. Thinking quickly, you pretended to choke, coughing up a storm as you managed to put the glass down.

Felix walked forward and was beside you in an instant, catching on to your actions. He handed you a handkerchief, gently patting your back as Changbin was also by your side, a concerned expression crossing his face as he stood guard.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Felix asked, keeping the attention on you as he discreetly slid the glass to the side, letting Changbin collect it and take it away, ensuring that it was as far away from you as possible.

“Y-yes,” you smiled shakily, pressing the handkerchief against your lips, “Just got startled when the baby kicked.”

The people around you, Hyunjin and Felix, instantly saw through your lie, but knew better than to question your words when everyone’s eyes were on you. You finally glanced at your husband, your anxiety spiking when you saw the way he looked at you, eyes filled with uncontrollable fury. 

Someone had really tried to hurt you, really tried to take his happiness right out from his grasp.

You placed a hand on his, and gave it a warning squeeze, “I’m alright, love, there’s no need to fret,” you cooed, putting on a show of calming him down so that his anger might be taken as anxiety instead.

Hyunjin caught onto your cues, and did his best to control the murderous emotions threatening to bubble out of his chest. Luckily enough, there was another distraction that waddled over, effectively putting the whole situation at rest.

“Mama! Are you alright?” Naeun ran over, her expression overly worried as she stood beside you, her little hands grabbing blindly for you and wanting to be held. As she was watching her Uncle Changbin, she’d panicked when he did, automatically thinking that something bad had happened to her mother.

“Oh, my little one, nothing happened. See?” You comforted her, bringing her hands to your cheeks as you smiled, “Mama is fine.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty!” The prince stammered out as you gently placed Naeun in your lap, giving into her cries to be close to you, “I did not mean to cause you harm. Not in the slightest.”

“And you did not,” you spoke gracefully, a hand lightly squeezing your husband’s leg under the table as you took control of the conversation, sensing that the man was no longer thinking rationally. Hyunjin already suspected the prince as the main culprit, and any words that would leave his mouth from here on would be far from pleasant.

You smiled serenely, looking at the prince, “There was no harm done. Pregnancies are always unpredictable.”

The prince nodded, his expression still anxious as he excused himself and took his seat back with his family. Looking at his frazzled expression, the idea that the person who was looking to poison you was less likely to be him.

“Hyunjin, snap that glare off your face. People are beginning to notice,” you hissed in his ear as people began to dance and mingle now that the dinner part of the banquet was done. Naeun was still in your arms, having fallen asleep. It was far past her normal bed time, after all.

But Hyunjin’s fury was just barely contained, “How can I? Someone tried to hurt you, Y/N. Someone tried to do so right before my very eyes, right under the noses of our Kingsguard,” he spoke under his breath, the cold glint in his eyes growing stronger with every moment. The Hwang Hyunjin of old, the ruthless king that ruled without mercy, was returning, and you needed to stop him quickly.

“Making a ruckus will not serve us any good,” you said softly, continuing to bounce Naeun lightly on your lap.

“He needs to know what happens if he hurts a member of the royal family,” Hyunjin’s glare shifted to the prince, who was dancing with his wife amongst the crowd.

“It isn’t him, Hyunjin,” you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, “I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Then who?” He rounded on you, eyes filled with pain and anger as he tried to hide it from nosy onlookers, leaning closer to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Who would dare hurt the most precious person in my life?”

“I don’t know, Hyunjin. But now isn’t the time to play detective. Let’s get through this party first, alright?” You asked soothingly just as Naeun shifted in your arms, mumbling.

“Papa…”

Hyunjin faltered at that weak cry, and you smiled in relief as you carefully handed Naeun to her father. The king held her in his lap, using her as his anchor. 

"Oh, my little petal," he sighed, letting the girl slump into his chest as she slept soundly, unaware of the turmoil raging through her father's heart. Hyunjin held her close, kissing her hair, and you were able to observe the party absently, letting yourself calm down after a near experience with death.

Who could've done it? The very idea of lacing the queen's drink with poison, and quite possibly starting a war in the process, would scare almost anyone away. It had to be someone with much more to gain from the incident, someone that feels sure enough of their position that they see the act through knowing it could never be traced back to them. 

You sat in relative silence for the rest of the evening, choosing to observe rather than participate as the guests enjoyed the many festivities you'd planned for the evening. One particular man, sitting at the table to your right, who looked suspiciously upset for such a joyous occasion, caught your eye. 

His motives certainly aligned, and he was of high enough status that he probably didn't even have to personally orchestrate any of it to happen. 

Could it be...? There was only one way to quell your suspicions. 

. 

The party ended uneventfully, and soon, many of the guests began to trickle out of the palace gates, ready to retire for the night. One man opted to take a less crowded route back to his estate, cutting through the palace passageways instead of braving the cold and the people. After all, he was no longer in a sociable mood after the events of the night. 

He should've  known it wasn't going to be so easy. The queen was not only royalty, she was an experienced general as well. It shouldn't have been such a surprise that she sniffed out the little surprise so easily. 

Still, even if it was to be expected, it was still a disappointment. If only she wasn't around, things would be so much simpler. He would've been able to further secure his position, maybe even take control of the military. Oh, the possibilities for him were endless if only- 

"General Lee Minho. It's quite late for you to still be here in my palace." 

If only you weren't around to stop him. 

Maintaining his composure, Minto turned around, giving you a perfect bow, "Your Majesty, I didn't mean to impose. I was merely trying to get home-" 

"Why did you do it?" 

Never one to beat around the bush, were you? 

Minho gave you a saccharine smile, his heart still relatively at ease. You had no proof. There was nothing that could connect the act to him. 

"Your Majesty, I don't believe I understand." 

It must've been the wrong thing to say. Your eyebrow raised inquisitively, and you took a step forward, your eyes cold and unwavering. You must've learned a thing or two from your besotted husband.  

"You're a cunning man, General. Our kingdoms profit off your intellect and your strategy," you said, looking straight into his own unflinching gaze.

"In fact, your cunning is the only reason you are still alive." 

The air seemed to grow thinner in an instant, and the pleasantries all but faded from Minho’s expression. You weren't inquiring, you knew it was him. This encounter was merely icing on the cake for you. The general was suddenly aware that the halls were completely empty save for the two of you, and there was not a sound to be heard. Not the sounds of a servant fetching water, or a maid finishing up her errands. Nothing.

Minho pursed his lips, giving you an unreadable gaze, “I wouldn't advise threatening me in your condition,” he commented, eyes falling deliberately to the swell of your stomach.

You couldn't help but smile in amusement at his thinly veiled threat, “I assure you, General, I am perfectly safe.”

“Oh?” Minho raised an eyebrow at your words, “And I suppose one of your two dogs that you call the Kingsguard is hiding just around the corner, waiting for a movement that would put you in danger before cutting me down.”

The silence screamed under the midnight sky, and the candles illuminating the hallway seemed to flicker as your smile turned icy.

“Do you really think I need Felix to intercede in order for me to kill you?”

Your words were barely audible, and could've easily passed as the murmurings of the wind, but for the first time, Minho didn't feel safe. There was something about the glint in your eyes, the way you stood before him like a storm just waiting to tear through him. 

All this time, Minho had not worried about the consequences of his actions. He did not believe that you were in a position to raise a finger at him, especially since the nobles were on his side. You were the former princess of a foreign kingdom, after all. You were the disadvantaged one here. If anything, he was worried what the king might do if his plot was discovered, knowing and having witnessed Hyunjin’s merciless punishments to those that defied him.

But standing before you, alone and without the bravado of his typical entourage, Minho realized. It was you that he should've feared. 

There was not an ounce of humanity, affection, or care in your eyes. The loving queen that had just been cradling her daughter in her arms earlier that night had all but slipped away. Standing before him was a battle-hardened warrior, a woman who had experienced too much suffering to ever go through it again, no matter what it took.

“What do you want from me?” Minho said, his innocent facade fading completely as he finally caved, the hatred seeping into his eyes as he glared at you.

“I want answers, and you will give them to me. If you don't know, which I doubt will be the case, you will direct me to someone who does.”

Minho’s jaw clenched, feeling the growing panic and fury clawing up his chest as he stood before you, with no more cards to play, “Alright.”

“Alright?” You raised an eyebrow, the simplest action laced with an unspoken threat.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” Minho sneered, wanting nothing more than to pull out his hidden blade and run it cleanly through your throat. He knew better though, especially since he was sure Felix had his eyes trained on him, ready to strike.

“Who else is in on this?”

“A few of the lords were vaguely aware that I was plotting something, but they did not actively participate in the act.”

“Were your actions supported?”

Looking down to the side, he muttered, “There were a few people that did not agree on my methods, but still want you removed.”

“Naeun. Is she in danger?” You asked sharply, for the first time, feeling a spike of fear hit you. If there was someone willing to murder your unborn child, you suspected that Naeun would not be safe either.

To your relief, Minho shook his head, “Not that I know of.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. As long as you and your child were relatively safe, you could continue the interrogation more seriously, “You laced my drink with poison, but it was not a large enough dosage to cause death. Why?”

“Your death would effectively sever any alliance between my kingdom and yours,” Minho gritted his teeth as he spoke, as if you were physically pulling out every single word from his mouth, “As much as I despise your kingdom for starting that useless war, I am not arrogant enough to deny that our alliance has benefited both of us greatly.”

“So you wanted my child,” you snarled lowly, your hand unconsciously reaching to touch your stomach as if protecting it, “You wanted me to miscarry.”

Minho smiled, all daggers and fangs as he replied, “If your baby didn't make it, you won't have a male heir. You would most likely have a harder time conceiving, and we'd be able to supply His Majesty with a suitable mistress.”

You stared at Minho, the pieces falling together in your mind as you thought of every moment when the general had tried to undermine you, make your comments less received by actively criticizing them, or scorn you for your status as a foreigner.

“You wanted me to lose favor with Hyunjin,” you concluded, feeling almost disappointed by the turn of events. No matter what kingdom, the power hungry were always the same, tearing down others for their own benefit. Doesn’t the battle for control ever get tiring for them?

Minho barked out a scathing laugh, “Of course I wanted you to lose favor with him. I wanted him to resent you, to hate you, to see you for what you really are, a viper hidden beneath that pretty, pretty face of yours.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely confused, “Why must you go so far to stop me--to stop him--from being happy?”

“You think he’s happy?” The general scoffed, and against his better judgement, he took a threatening step towards you. The expression on your face barely twitched, but Minho could suddenly feel a murderous aura coming from behind him, and he knew better than to push his luck.

“Do you really think he’s happy?” Minho laughed, “You destroyed him, Your Majesty. You turned him soft. We were going to build the greatest, most ruthless empire the continent has ever known. And suddenly, after he met you, he decided to stop conquering, to take care of his people, to take care of your people after you lost.”

You weren’t expect such a barrage of anger and honesty, but you took the chance while you had it, “And what? You’re upset because you stopped gaining wealth and power in the spades like you used to?”

Minho’s scowl was pure wickedness, and you stared him down, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, “I’m upset because you turned our king into a soft, weak little boy. The plan was to wring you and your people dry, taking all the resources before leaving you to fend for yourself. And, suddenly, after he met you, he wanted to do nothing but protect you, a cowardly, foolish princess that was nothing but her parent’s puppet--”

“Careful,” your voice was soft, its edges laced with poison as your eyes flashed with a silent warning, “You are alive still because I have use for you, but you run your mouth like that again, and I’ll have your tongue cut out before I slit your throat.”

The general realized the seriousness of your words, and his eyes narrowed, “You have use...of me,” he repeated your words, already disliking where this was going. 

“Of course I do. If I didn’t, your body would have already been dumped into the river by now,” you said pleasantly, the serene smile back on your face as you pulled at your lace gloves.

Minho raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you’d be able to get away with that, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, my dear General,” you couldn’t help but laugh, amused by his doubtfulness at your capabilities, “unlike you, I am not in the position where every move I make is another desperate grab for power. I am the Queen. The power stems from me and my husband. And do you think Hyunjin would care about the potential murderer of his unborn child if I told him the truth?”

Minho’s jaw clenched so hard, it was painful. He underestimated you. Hyunjin was not the ruthless one. You were.

Like a snake constricting its prey, knowing there was no hope of escape, you smiled, “You are in no position to threaten me, Lee Minho, and unless you want me to strip you of all of your titles or for me to tell Hyunjin about what has just transpired, I’d keep that snippy mouth of yours shut.”

How pathetic. You knew exactly what he valued in life, and didn’t hesitate in brandishing against him like a sharpened blade. All of Minho's actions were to protect his reputation with the king and to hold onto the power he'd already earned, and you were dangling that prize over his head, ready to rip it away from him at a moment's notice.

“What does Her Majesty require of me?” Minho asked through gritted teeth and a clenched smile.

“Stop with the schemes. I'm sick and tired of them,” you said tiredly, giving him a wary glare, “Stop trying to usurp my power and overthrow my position as Queen. It doesn't matter how many mistresses you want to throw at Hyunjin. He will always love me as I will always love him, and even if that doesn't come to be, he will always have respect for me.”

Minho felt his blood boil as he nodded, “Yes...Your Majesty.”

You didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, moving straight to the most important term.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess.”

“Are you insane?” Minho snarled, his anger spiking as he spat at you, “The people who supported me in ruling against her will think I've gone mad.”

“Maybe you should've thought twice before deciding on your vote then,” you smiled placidly as you took a step closer towards him.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess, no conditions, no what ifs. She is the heir. Understood?”

As he gazed into your eyes, each order you have laced with power and unspeakable threat, Minho saw himself in the reflection of your sharp stare. To you, he was nothing but a mere doll for you to manipulate to your own will, a being that could just as easily be discarded as it can be replaced. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Minho said again, the hatred in his tone more than apparent.

“I expect the good news to be placed on Hyunjin’s desk tomorrow morning.”

Without another word, another acknowledge or even goodbye, you turned around, walking down the hall and leaving Minho to wallow in his own failure, leaving him to forever berate himself for the missteps he made, the miscalculations that had now put his entire career into the hands of the person he despised most in the kingdom.

“Sounded like things were going well, Your Majesty,” Felix commented nonchalantly as you passed him, the young guard having positioned himself in the adjacent hallway, waiting for any inkling of danger to jump in and protect you. You didn’t fail to notice the way he twirled his knife before slipping it back into its sheathe, obviously having pulled it out when Minho had made a poorly concealed threat regarding your condition.

“Yes, it seems like some good has come out of this ridiculous farce,” you sighed, placing your hand gently over your tummy as you felt the slightest kick against your side. With that conversation, you could only hope that the worst of the nobles’ spite towards you and your blood would soon be over. 

Felix eyed you carefully in the silent walk back to the Royal Chambers, noting both your emotional and physical state, “Are you going to keep this from His Majesty?” He asked, afraid of overstepping his boundaries by prodding too much.

“Eventually, the truth will come out whether I want it to or not,” you said as you entered the private section of the palace, exhaustion laced in your words. Truthfully, if Minho had decided to call your bluff and attacked you earlier, it wouldn’t have been as easy as you’d made him believe it to be. You had your reputation as a powerful general back when you were a princess to thank for how successful your negotiations went.

“Still, I think I’ll keep it a secret...just for tonight,” you confided to Felix tiredly, turning to him with a weary smile, “He’s worried enough already, especially after earlier.”

Felix nodded, and you didn’t need to ask additionally to ensure secrecy. Felix was good about those things. He was a good confidante, and once again, you felt immensely grateful for his presence. 

He gave you a bow, practiced ease and gracefulness exuding from even the simplest of movements as he spoke softly, “Take care of yourself, Your Majesty.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching over and gently patting his head, a silent gesture of praise for the young knight who’d done so much for you, “I promise. Now go get some sleep. It’s quite late.”

Felix excused himself politely, and you took a deep breath, heading to the bedroom where your lover was probably waiting anxiously for your return.

.

As you’d expected, Hyunjin was almost beside himself when you walked into the room, his hands freezing from where they were pulling at the roots of his dark hair when he gasped, “Y/N, my love!” He rushed towards you, pulling you into his arms and sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick! Changbin said that Felix was with you, so I trusted that nothing was wrong, but you were gone for so long and I thought—”

“Shh, my darling,” you cooed, letting his hands touch you fleetingly everywhere he could, your shoulders, your waist, your tummy, anything to let him know that you were once again safe in his arms.

You smiled, cupping his cheeks as you leaned close, “I’m alright. Everything’s alright. I just needed some air after what happened today, so I took a walk in the gardens. Felix was with me every step of the way.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh of both relief and frustration as he held your hand resting on his cheek, looking into your eyes, “Please don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered, “Not after what happened earlier.”

“Nothing happened, Hyunjin,” you said softly, your thumb lightly brushing his face as you comforted him, “I’m here, aren’t I, safe and sound?”

“Things could’ve turned out so much worse,” he pressed a fleeting kiss to your palm as he held your hand, “I had the liquid inspected. At this very moment, you could’ve been unconscious, fighting for your life, our child...gone,” his voice cracked ever so slightly as he palmed your stomach.

“But it didn’t happen like that,” you reassured him, eyes widening as you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, “Oh, Hyunjin.”

Reaching forward, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing in his chest as Hyunjin easily fell into your embrace, burying his face in your hair as he hugged you tightly. The room filled with the comfortable silence, and your conversation continued without the need for words.

I love you. I want you to be safe. Please don’t do anything dangerous. It was all translated through your touch and the warmth you gained from one another.

Hyunjin’s hugs were warm. They felt like hot chocolate on a cold winter day, like a summer breeze that swept you away. You felt safe just being in his arms, and soon, you let out a quiet yawn, nuzzling into his chest.

“Let me coddle you tonight,” he murmured, sensing you slumping forward in his chest as his fingers lightly massaged your scalp, “I know you don’t like it very much, but just for tonight, can I please take care of you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his request. As much as Hyunjin liked to be cared for, by you in particular, his favorite hobby was to spoil you in any capacity that he knew how. He loved to lavish you with gifts, shower you with love, and to do every little thing to make you comfortable. You weren’t the person that liked to take advantage of this little trait of his, since you were never one for lavish gift giving nor were you ever given such attention before, but seeing how earnest he was, you decided to compromise, especially after all the worrying Hyunjin had probably gone through just waiting for you to return. 

“Of course,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Let’s get ready for bed.”

Hyunjin was carefully meticulous as he  undid the corset of your party dress, pulled out the pins that held your hair up, and delicately slipped the silk nightgown over your form, all the while trailing kisses wherever he could. You did the same for him, helping him out of his uniform as your lips connected with his.

“I was thinking,” you mumbled absently as Hyunjin kissed you with abandon, his hands nimbly undoing the braids in your hair, “We should go away, just us and Naeun.”

“Oh? Do tell me more,” Hyunjin replied with a soft smile, his lips trailing down to your jaw as you tried your hardest to remember what you were trying to say. What a little brat he was being.

You sucked in a gasp as you rolled your eyes, amused by his antics, “Let’s spend a week at the summer estate. Naeun needs space to run around, and both of us need a breather from our royal duties. You especially.”

Hyunjin groaned at your words, “You’re definitely right about that. But can we afford to leave, with all the chaos going around?” He asked, as he began to usher you to the bed, his arms looping around your legs as he ultimately decided to just carry you.

“H-hyunjin!” You squeaked, surprised by the sudden action as your arms wrapped around his neck. Your husband paid you no mind, carrying you to the bed before placing you down delicately. His eyes met yours and you touched his face, “I’m sure we can make time. We can delegate some of the less important work to some of the council members. If not, we can just work extra hard after to make up for lost time. We all need a break.”

“Your wish is my command, my Queen,” Hyunjin leaned forward, pecking your lips before walking around to crawl under the covers from his side of the bed, “I’ll start planning the details of the trip tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” you smiled, snuggling into the covers and scooting closer to your husband as his hand absently shifted to rest on your tummy.

“It would be good for this little one, too. Just to experience what life outside this stuffy palace is like,” Hyunjin mumbled, his eyes already closing. He was no doubt exhausted from hosting the party and all the preparations before hand.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you giggled. Hyunjin always had a way of bringing the conversation back to the baby, “Yes, it'll be good for them, too,” you agreed softly as your eyes began to close as well. The day had been far too eventful for your liking, and you'd like at least one full night of rest before having to tell Hyunjin about your conversation with Minho.

Suddenly, your ears perked up at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. Hyunjin reacted instantly, pulling you close as he sat up to see who had come in.

“Papa…? Mama…?”

Naeun’s sleepy voice was soft and almost inaudible, but Hyunjin let out a sigh, relaxing as he could make out the little figure of his daughter standing at the door.

“Naeun, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, beckoning her over to his side of the bed, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“I-i—” The little girl rubbed her heavy eyes as she waddled over to her father as she began to whimper, “I had a bad dweam, P-papa.”

Hyunjin’s heart and yours simultaneously melted as a silent agreement passed between the two of you. The priority was no longer to get a good night's sleep; it was your daughter’s comfort.

“Oh, petal. Was it scary?” Hyunjin cooed, reaching down and easily picking her up, settling her in the large bed. He placed her right in the middle, and you rolled over to your side so you could gently wipe her tears.

Naeun nodded at his words, her lips curled in a trembling pout, “Scawy. C-couldn’t find Mama—a-and people saying that Papa was gone…” Her lip quivered again and she began to cry just from remembering the awful images that passed through her head.

“Shh, shh. Oh, dear,” Hyunjin quickly grabbed a spare handkerchief on the night stand beside his bed as you sat up, murmuring comforting words as you cupped Naeun's cheeks gently. 

“Naeun, my little princess,” you said softly, looking into her sparkling eyes as large crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks, “Mama and Papa are right here. We'll always be here for you, alright? No matter what happens, your Mama and Papa would never, ever abandon you like that.”

The little girl sniffled as Hyunjin wiped away her tears, smiling fondly, “Your mother said it best, petal. No matter what, we'll be here to support you, protect you, and love you until you've grown sick of our coddling.” 

Hyunjin couldn't help but add in a little teasing, booping her nose as he said, “Even after you grow sick of us, we'll still stick annoyingly close.”

Naeun scrunched her nose as she always did when hyunjin messed with her, and she frowned, “I won't ever get sick of Papa and Mama. Never!”

“Oh, one day, you'll take those words back,” you added playfully as you tickled Naeun's little tummy, making her squeal with delight and effectively drawing the nightmare out of her immediate thoughts. Hyunjin joined in, tag teaming your poor daughter until she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open. 

"Love Papa... Love Mama," Naeun mumbled sleepily as she curled into the warm blankets, beginning to fall asleep. You smiled at her words, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

"Mama and Papa love you more than anything else in the whole world," you reassured her, brushing the stray hairs out of her face, "Get some sleep, little one.  Nothing can hurt you here." 

Naeun mumbled in acknowledgment, and her little hands wrapped around Hyunjin’s pinky, making her father’s heart positively melt, “Papa...sing.”

“Sing?” He repeated, slightly flustered as he shifted to a more comfortable position, making sure that Naeun was still able to hold onto his pinky. 

“Mhm, Papa sing,” Naeun nodded as she curled up into a little ball, bringing Hyunjin's hand to her chest as she began to doze off on her own.

You couldn't help but giggle as you burrowed into the covers as well, wrapping a gentle around your daughter as you smiled up at Hyunjin, “Won't you honor a princess’s request?” You teased.

Hyunjin pouted at you, scrunching his nose much like how Naeun had done only minutes before, “But I'm the king,” he said petulantly, making Naeun giggle at his antics, “I can do whatever I want!”

“Well, your Queen is now requesting a song as well,” you said with an air of playful haughtiness as Naeun and you shared a conspiratorial glance.

“Oh dear,” Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, “then, I believe I don't have a choice if my Queen and my Princess so insist.”

“You don't!” Naeun chirped in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh before propping himself up against the headboard and pulling Naeun into his chest so she could rest comfortably in his arms. He didn't forget you, of course, and laced his fingers with yours as you decided not to move around as much, resting on your side of the bed as you held his hand.

The sound of soft-spoken singing wafted into your ears like a gentle breeze. Hyunjin, albeit not a professional in any way, always had a nice voice. It was the kind of voice that could lull you into relaxation, the kind of voice that soothed your unsettled heart. Before long, your eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and you drifted off to sleep with your hand wrapped around Hyunjin’s.

Hyunjin gazed down at his family as he slowly stopped singing, noticing that the two of you had fallen asleep. Without the prying eyes of the world boring down on him, he could finally drop his guard and his cold exterior to fully admire the two people he loved, the little girl in his arms that he treasured so dearly and you, the love of his life that showed him what it truly meant to have a soulmate, a person to confide in wholeheartedly. 

It was his little personal heaven, just to see the two of you sleeping safe and sound, to lie in bed with both his daughter and his wife just at arm's reach. He savored it as much as he could, squeezing your hand once more before putting down himself, pulling the warm covers higher over Naeun to keep her healthy. And not for the first time, Hyunjin wistfully dreamed of a life where he was not the king, where he could be a simple man, only tasked to provide and love his family. 

Hyunjin knew he would be asking for too much. He knew what the two of you had promised to those that had put their faith in your hands. You'd promised to protect them, to wear the crown and carry the burdens of your kingdom, no matter how bruised, bloodied or battered the journey made you. 

But as he stared down at your peaceful expression, your lips slightly parted and your eyes fluttered shut, he couldn't help but remember the terror he felt just hours before, the all consuming fear that you would disappear from his life. And for the first time, Hyunjin was at a loss, facing a crossroad that—in the naivety of his youth—he never thought he’d encounter.

If he had to choose between you or his country, what would he do? If he had to protect the integrity of his kingdom and sacrifice Naeun, would he be able to do it? Before you came along, Hyunjin cared about nothing but his work, his duty. But now, he had a family that he'd do anything to protect.

At the party, Hyunjin felt anger like he'd never felt before in his life. It was more than fury, it was pure rage. He would've been willing to lock the doors and interrogate every single person present in the banquet hall if you hadn't calmed him down. He didn't want to become a king like that, he didn't want to become a ruler than put his own needs and his family’s needs before everything else. 

But if he lost you, if he lost Naeun, if he lost his unborn child, his whole world would shatter. It was almost terrifying how much the past five years had changed him. 

“Hyunjin,” his eyes flew open as he suddenly felt your thumb brush against the back of your hand. Turning his head, he realized that you had woken up, your eyes gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and love that Hyunjin wanted to drown in.

“You're thinking too much again,” you murmured sleepily, playing absently with his fingers without jostling Naeun, “At this point, you'll have wrinkles before you're even middle aged.”

The king couldn't help but chuckle at your little quip, pressing a kiss to your hand, “I'm sorry, my love. Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke up on my own,” you reassured him, “But I'm glad I did. What's wrong, darling?”

Hyunjin bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. He shouldn't bother you with his feelings, not when you already had to worry about yourself on top of the baby you were carrying. 

“Hyunjin,” you murmured his name once more, and he felt his body shudder at how sweet, how loving you sounded, “You can tell me anything.” 

It was the only gentle nudge he needed.

“I'm worried about this,” Hyunjin said softly, “Our family. I can't stop worrying. I didn't know about the poison, even though all the food and drinks were inspected. When will it ever be enough?”

You squeezed his hand, “You're putting too much responsibility on yourself. The family’s safety is not your burden to bear alone, it is for us to share.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his midnight hair, “I know, Y/N. But I just wish I could do more.”

“You do more than enough for us, darling,” you reassured him, “You do more than any king would do for their families. It's alright, Hyunjin. You're doing so well.”

“I am?” Hyunjin sucked in a breath, placing your hand on his cheek as he closed his eyes, revelling in your words and your presence. 

“You are.”

These were not honey coated words to soothe a monarch and appease his temper. You meant them more than you could ever express. You knew Hyunjin was trying his best. You knew Hyunjin was most likely protecting you from forces that you weren't even aware of, just like the way you'd dealt with Minho just earlier. 

“I found out who did it, by the way,” you mumbled, figuring that this felt like the right time to tell him in hopes that Hyunjin might sleep better knowing that the problem was dealt with.

There was a moment of deathly silence before Hyunjin uttered a single word, "Who?" 

You sighed. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all, especially since your daughter was soundly sleeping in the space between the both of you, "Promise that you won't do anything rash right now." 

"You're asking me not to do anything rash when I find out who tried to murder my unborn child and harm my wife?" Hyunjin asked in disbelief. 

“I'm asking you not to overreact now while your daughter is sleeping," you hissed back, "I handled it for the time being." 

Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh, "Alright, you win. You have my word,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

You bit your lip, wondering if it would just be easier to be completely honest or to ease into it gently. After a moment of consideration, you decided on the former. 

“It’s Minho.”

Hyunjin reacted without thinking, feeling the rage run through his veins once again as he began to sit up, “That bastard--”

As he shifted aggressively, Naeun whined in her sleep, beginning to squirm. You wrapped your arm around her body as your other hand grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, “You promised!”

Hyunjin’s steeled eyes softened as he looked down at the little girl beside him, and he slumped back on the bed, pressed a kiss to her forehead and rubbing her back, helping soothe her back to a deep sleep, “I should’ve gotten rid of him earlier. I knew he disliked your presence, but I thought--I thought he’d be able to see past the differences.”

“As did I,” you admitted, running your fingers gently through Naeun’s hair as her whimpers stopped and slowly went back to soft breaths, “but it seems like he disappointed both of us.” 

The king sighed tiredly, feeling the rest of his fiery hot anger dissipate as he turned to lie on his side, his eyes trained on Naeun as he made sure she was asleep, “You said you handled it. Let me guess, it was when you ‘went for a walk.’” 

“You know me too well,” Flicking his forehead playfully, you couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, we had a quick conversation as I was walking back to the chambers. I don’t believe he will try it again any time soon.”

“I would ask what you told him, but I almost don’t want to know,” Hyunjin said with a hint of a smile as he closed his eyes, “My wife can be very scary when she wants to be.”

You shrugged, stroking his cheek fondly for a moment longer before pulling your hand away and lying back down, “I’m the same as you, Jinnie. Anything to protect this family we’ve created.”

Hyunjin hummed in agreement, his long arm draping over to wrap around both you and Naeun, “Anything. But for now, let’s sleep. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Whatever for?” You asked curiously, unsure of what Hyunjin was thinking about in that little head of his. 

“For being here. For loving me. For everything you do,” he mumbled, already beginning to fall asleep    as his words began to slur. Your heart felt warm and fluttery as you smiled, patting the back of his hand as you mumbled your sleepy reply.

“I’ll always be here for you, Jinnie. You’re not alone anymore.”

Hyunjin cracked a smile at that, and hugged you and Naeun ever so slightly tighter in his arms. You were right. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had you and Naeun, whom he loved with every fiber of his being. He had Changbin and Felix, who were slowly becoming less like guards and more like their surrogate family. 

And for all those reasons, Hwang Hyunjin fell asleep considering himself quite lucky. 

[philhoffman]

Tonight’s Monday Philm is Hard Eight (1996), a fitting choice for this week with PTA’s birthday yesterday, Philip Baker Hall’s passing earlier this month, and the John C. Reilly kick I’ve been on lately.

There’s nothing like a Paul Thomas Anderson picture. This was my second viewing of Hard Eight so I really got to dive into the style and substance on this watch. I love those moments when you instantly recognize a PTA signature — the way the camera moves, the way he frames a face, a line of dialogue paired with just the right actor to bring the script to life. While Hard Eight might be lower in my PTA rankings, that’s only because I love most of his other work so much, too. For anyone else, this film might be the best thing they ever create. For PTA, this impressive feature debut is just the beginning.

How lucky were we to have Philip Baker Hall. His Sydney is so quiet and unassuming yet such a commanding presence, paternal, duplicitous, kind, pitying. This is his film, completely. It makes me excited to check out some of the other PBH leading roles I have on my watchlist, like Secret Honor.

I love film reviews and reading about movies and writing about them (evidently, as I stay up too late writing these reviews every week!). But it’s hard to me, a writer by trade, to put PSH’s Young Craps Player scene into words. There are many (many) much more talented and knowledgable film writers who’ve taken on this scene and I think every one of them has fallen short. It’s the perfect example of why movies are so special. It’s a magnetic, magic scene — within the context of the film, within the context of Phil’s career, of his work and friendship with PTA, within the context of what makes film such a unique medium.

The film comes to a momentary, electrified halt with this random asshole stealing the spotlight from our protagonist — a brilliant, nearly out-of-place flash and you’re suddenly interested, so interested in who the hell this guy, this character, this actor is — before sinking back into the darker second half of the story. His voice, all his improved lines, what he’s seeing in Sydney and what Sydney sees in him, the arrogance, the discomfort, the overcompensating, shaka laka dooby dooby doo. But again, here I am trying to describe something words can’t describe. You just have to watch it. Again, and again. The way I feel during that scene is a rare feeling, three of the most exciting minutes captured on film. And both Phil and Paul were like 20-something kids, what the hell.

(Also I think it’s so funny that Phil’s name is spelled wrong in the credits lol.)

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #173: Sherlock Holmes

Yes we’re going out of order, but I have a very good reason for this! ...Well, not really. We were already in the geniuses section, and any excuse to not think about summer while it’s still 40 degrees out is one I’m going to take.

Anyway, today we’re making the man famous for discombobulation, Sherlock Holmes! Track down mysteries, show up everyone else in the party, and kick ass with Baritsu. Easy stuff.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Chaldea’s other resident genius.

Race and Background

There are some theories about Sherlock’s race, but for simplicity’s sake we’ll call you a Variant Human, giving you +1 Dexterity and Wisdom. You also get Sleight of Hand proficiency for some close-up detective work, and the Keen Mind feat, giving you +1 Wisdom, the ability to always point north, perfect time telling, and the ability to recall anything from the last month in-game, a.k.a. the DM’s nightmare.

You know a lot yourself, but you also know how to build and maintain an archive, so the closest background to match would be the Cloistered Scholar background, giving you proficiency in Nature and Religion. Arcana and history would suit you better, but I’ve got something in mind for that, and good things come to those who wait.

Ability Scores

As you’d probably expect, your Wisdom and Intelligence are pretty freaking high. You are Sherlock Holmes after all. You’re pretty strong, but the reason you’re so scary in a fight is because of your technique, so we’re going with Dexterity here instead. You snort cocaine like it’s going out of style, so your Constitution has to be able to keep up. This does mean your Strength is a bit low, but you’re practically an anime protagonist, there are some things we just can’t get in a balanced build. Finally, dump Charisma. Half the reason you drag Guda along on your cases is to talk people out of thinking you’re the murderer, honestly it’s kind of embarrassing.

Class Levels

1. Rogue 1: You’re a skilled guy, and rogues get skills for days. You get proficiencies in Dexterity and Intelligence saves, as well as four skills- Deception for disguises, and Insight, Investigation, and Perception for cases and clue-catching. You also get Expertise in two skills, doubling their proficiency bonus. Right off the bat I’d suggest Insight and Investigation so you can hopefully get to the bottom of things quickly. Foiling a plan at the last second is thrilling and all, but utterly shutting down a villain is so satisfying.

To help with that, you can use a Sneak Attack once per turn if you’re using a ranged or finesse weapon and either have advantage against a target or a friend within 5′ of them. You also learn Thieves’ Cant, it’s a language that will be especially helpful when you have to navigate the criminal underbelly of a city.

2. Monk 1:None of that was Baritsu though, so we’re bouncing over to monk for some Martial Arts. You can use Dexterity instead of Strength on monk weapons (this does not make them finesse), and spending an action to attack with one also lets you make an unarmed attack as a bonus action. Your unarmed and monk weapon attacks also do at least a 1d4 of damage.

You also get Unarmored Defense, making your AC 10 plus your dexterity modifier plus your wisdom modifier. I don’t care how hot it looks, that corset isn’t armor.

3. Cleric 1: Last multiclass, I swear. Since you can literally make clues appear like magic, we kinda need a bit of magic. Clerics get Spells that they cast and prepare using their Wisdom, which you might have noticed is becoming a pretty important ability for you.

If you want clues, you’ll need knowledge, at least enough to know that the Knowledge domain can help with that. At first level you gain the Blessings of Knowledge, making you proficient in History and Arcana and doubling those proficiencies as well (hey, see what I said about waiting?).

You get three cantrips for joining the clergy, Light gives you some of those cool magnifying spotlights you carry around, Thaumaturgy for some parlor tricks, and Guidance for when you really have to focus.

For first level spells, Command gives you a basic command spell, and Identify teaches you all about the magic affecting an item or creature. Normally that would be more of a research montage, but some times you’re in a hurry. 

As far as actually prepared spells go, anything with “Detect” in the name is a good pick.

4. Rogue 2: Now that we’ve got our spread, let’s build some of these classes up. Second level rogues can make Cunning Actions, Dashing, Disengaging, or Hiding as a bonus action. If you already spent your action rifling through someone’s files and they’re about to burst into the room, you’ll thank me.

5. Rogue 3: There’s really only two possible picks for your subclass, and we’re saving the Mastermind for Moriarty. As an Inquisitive, you have an Ear for Deceit, giving your Insight rolls a minimum of 8 on the die. On top of that, your Eye for Detail lets you make Perception and Investigation checks as a bonus action, further speeding up the process. On top of that, your Insightful Fighting uses your bonus action to make an Insight check versus a creature’s Deception check. On a success, you don’t need advantage to make sneak attacks against that creature for up to a minute. Finally, your Steady Aim uses your bonus action to get advantage on an attack if you don’t move that turn. I’d just use your insightful fighting, but your rival might push you to your limit.

This is a lot of stuff to do on your bonus action, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

6. Monk 2: Back at the school of Baritsu, you gain Ki Points that you can spend to make two unarmed attacks, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action. Doing either of the latter two also doubles your jump distance for the turn. You also gain Unarmored Movement, increasing your movement speed by 10 feet while not wearing armor.

7. Monk 3: We need the most technique in the fewest levels, so that means we’re turning to the Way of the Open Hand once more. Your Open Hand Technique gives extra benefits to your flurry of blows. On each hit, the creature either can’t take reactions for a round, must succeed on a dexterity save or be knocked prone, or must make a strength save or be pushed 15′ away.

You can also Deflect Missiles as your reaction, catching an incoming attack and reducing its damage, possibly sending it back at the enemy if you bring it down to 0.

8. Monk 4: Our first Ability Score Improvement will instead be used to make you Observant, bumping up your Wisdom by 1, giving you +5 to passive perception and investigation, and allowing you to read lips. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction to take less fall damage. Hey, any help to survive the Reichenbach is well appreciated.

9. Rogue 4: Back in rogue now, your second ASI is going towards your Dexterity for stronger and more effective attacks, as well as a higher AC. 17′s pretty good for a corset.

10. Rogue 5: Fifth level rogues get an Uncanny Dodge, allowing you to react to an incoming attack and halve the damage. 

11. Cleric 2: You didn’t think we forgot about this one, did you? Knowledge clerics get two Channel Divinity options each short rest. Turn Undead is your bog standard option, or you can gain the Knowledge of the Ages, spending an action to gain proficiency in one skill or tool for 10 minutes. Protagonist powers, activate!

12. Cleric 3: Third level cleric, second level spells. Suggestion is a more open ended command spell, and Augury is more “telling the future” than deduction. That being said, you do get Calm Emotions to keep your cool, as well as Find Traps, Locate Object, and Zone of Truth. 

13. Rogue 6: You know I’m a sucker for quadrupling things, so for this round of Expertise double up on History and Perception. You’re good at everything, but especially current events.

14. Rogue 7: At this level you get the powerful Evasion feature, turning your failed dexterity saves to avoid damage into successes and successes into no damage at all.

15. Rogue 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence. It’s a shame we had to wait this long for it, but better late than never.

16. Rogue 9: Your Steady Eye gives you advantage on perception and investigation checks as long as you’re moving at half speed. Unless your DM’s really keen on mapping out rp situations, this is pretty much permanent advantage.

17. Rogue 10: Another ASI, another bump to Intelligence. Does it really do anything? Probably not, but you can feel smug about it regardless.

18. Rogue 11: Your Reliable Talent means you skill rolls are always 10 or greater on checks you’re proficient with. And thanks to your knowledge of the ages, you can be proficient in just about anything.

19. Rogue 12: Use your last ASI to max out your Wisdom for more AC, stronger spells, and more skilled Baritsu.

20. Rogue 13: Your capstone ability is your Unerring Eye, an action to sense illusions, shapechangers, and the like around you. You can sense something’s off, but will have to investigate yourself. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to your wisdom modifier.

Pros

Your minimum rolls in Insight and Investigation are 27 and 26 respectively, making you an ace detective. Your ability to root out lies, plus your photographic memory, will make any mystery you play through a breeze. (You the player still have to connect the dots, though.) Also, literally being able to see through illusions is a big plus.

Maxed out wisdom also means your open hand techniques are as strong as possible, giving you a good amount of battlefield control to beat down enemies and push them around.

Knowledge of the Ages plus Reliable Talent equals you being really good at everything when you need to be, and you’re much faster a switching things up than Hundred Personas. 

Cons

Since we only splashed into monk, your baritsu isn’t that great an option for damage. It also comes with the caveat that you can’t use your sneak attack unarmed, so you will have to carry the murder weapon around with you.

Despite being a melee fighter, your hp is pretty low, making straight confrontations a bad idea.

We really wanted Unerring Eye, but as a consequence we could only get a couple levels of the other classes. This means your ki points and spell slots are rather limited. But I mean, you’re Sherlock freaking Holmes, you’ll know when you need to use them and when you don’t.

[la-femme-damnee]

A Chance Encounter

Pt. 1 of the Under Covers series 

Characters: Suho x y/n

Genre: spy au, graphic smut

Rating: Mature (fem oral receiving, cock-riding, ever so slightly femme-dom) 

word count: 2.1k words 

You had never intended to sleep your way into a job. You had only gone to that bar a week ago to blow off some steam, as having been working at a private security firm for a few years you had a lot of stress to work off, and when you saw that gorgeous man with a mysterious air about him you figured he would be the perfect outlet. Which, of course, he was. Even now, seeing him leaning back in his chair, pulling at his tie while he dealt with some urgent business on the phone, you felt a rush of heat through your body as you thought about the night that wound up changing your life.

***** one week earlier*****

You noticed him immediately from across the bar; he was sitting alone in his booth, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking casually around the bar as he sipped on his drink. It was like he had an invisible spotlight on him, and all the women in the bar were glancing over at him, hoping to catch his eye. You were never one to fight for attention, so you let the other women silently fight over him, and you honestly hadn’t meant to look his way, but luckily you did at just the right moment. He locked eyes with you and raised his eyebrow in a mischievous way, an invitation to come to his table, which you accepted. You made your way over to him, sitting close while still facing him directly.

“What can I buy you to drink?” his smooth voice perfectly matching his appearance.

“The penthouse? Well, aren’t I lucky to have caught your attention when I did”, you laughed.

“Scotch is fine by me”, you responded, grabbing the bottle on his table and the extra glass, pouring yourself a drink. A small grin appeared on his face; he was clearly impressed with your boldness. You maintained eye contact as you took a sip, lightly licking your lips.  “I’m y/n” you said, almost as an afterthought. “Who might you be?”

“Does my name really matter? I have a feeling we won’t be doing much talking tonight” he said with a playful tone, which took you aback, but more than being offended you were turned on. After a long week of work you were just looking to have a little fun, and he seemed to be the perfect playmate.

“You might be right. Still, I’ll need some sort of name to scream out, won’t I?” you said back, challenging him.

The mysterious man smiled, “Alright, how about… Jun-myeon? Come on, my car is right outside”, and with that you two got up and made your way to the door, and you could feel daggers in the back of your head as every woman in the bar glared at you with envy, but you were used to it. You always got whatever man you wanted. Jun-myeon led you to his car, a sleek black Audi, and you were impressed but not surprised; clearly this guy had lots of money, you don’t have his kind of powerful aura without it. Almost immediately after the car pulled away from the bar, his hand was on your leg, slowly caressing your inner thigh, and even through all the fabric you felt sparks of arousal. You silently cursed yourself for not changing into something more revealing after work so you could feel his skin on yours, but thankfully before long you pulled into the underground garage of an apartment building. Jun-myeon opened the door for you and placed his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the elevator, where he scanned his card and pressed the button for the penthouse.

“It wasn’t luck, y/n” he responded, suddenly very serious, his gaze intense, “I noticed you the second you walked in the bar. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, I just waited until you noticed me”, and suddenly his mouth was on yours, kissing you deeply and pulling you into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and returned his kiss, biting his lower lip which elicited a growl of pleasure from him. You continued making out, his lips felt so good on yours. The doors of the elevator dinged open, and he guided you out of the elevator and opened his door without ever breaking contact. Clearly, he had done this before, but you didn’t care, your primal instincts had taken over and all you cared about was getting him inside of you. The two of you stumbled into his apartment and came up for air just long enough for him to get you to his bedroom, and before you knew it Jun-myeon was ripping of your blouse, exposing your lace covered breasts. He let out a low, throaty moan as he ran his hands over your body, and your skin was practically burning with desire form his touch.

“You know I’m gonna have to get you back for that” you said, your breathe ragged, and he flashed a wicked smile at you.

“That’s what I was hoping for” he retorted, and so you pushed him back onto the bed and ripped off his shirt in return, the buttons bouncing along the hardwood floor. You straddled him and undid his belt buckle, unzipping his pants to expose his boxers straining around his bulge. You reached for his cock and began to roughly stroke it through the fabric as you kissed his muscular chest, hearing him fight back moans and felt his hands grip your hair. Unexpectedly he pulled your head back, “not so fast, y/n, I want to last for you”, and he flipped you over so that he was on top. He began to suck on your neck, at a sensitive spot right below your ear, and you felt a gush of wetness in your panties. You were so overcome with pleasure you hadn’t noticed that he had removed his pants and yours, until you felt his hand massaging you core.

“I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours to make me come” you whispered into his ear. He pulled away to look at you, a thrilled expression on his face.

“Yes, Miss y/n”, he said eagerly, and left a trail of kisses down your stomach until he was between your legs. He pulled off your panties and let his fingers gently run through your folds, soaking up some of your wetness before letting his tongue lightly graze along your slit, causing you to shudder. You let out a little whine of pleasure every time he licked your clit, and when he covered it with his lips and began to suck you screamed. You could feel your orgasm coming and you begged for more, so he let his fingers, still wet with your arousal, slide into you. That was all it took before you were shaking, the orgasm overtaking your body. The high began to subside but you still wanted more, so you pushed yourself onto your elbow and grabbed him by the hair this time, pulling him away from you.

“Stand up”, you commanded, and he did without hesitation. “Now take of your underwear. Slowly.” As much as you were aching for him to be inside you, you also wanted to see how obedient he was. He did as he was told, his thumbs sliding into the waistband of his boxers he slowly slid them down his legs. As he did so, you let your eyes roam all over his body, slim but muscular, and began to touch yourself, biting your lip when you saw his hard cock. You looked into his eyes and you could see how hard he was trying to wait for your instructions but also desperately wanting stroke himself. Having this gorgeous man at your mercy had you on the edge, and you couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Good boy. Now, lie on the bed”.  As soon as he was horizontal you positioned yourself over him, bending down to kiss him deeply as you guided his cock to your entrance. You took him in you all at once, gasping at how good it felt to be full, and began to slowly circle your hips so you could feel every inch of him against your walls.

  “Fuck, y/n, you feel so good” he moaned as you rocked against him, and he let his hands roam along your waist, thighs, and stomach. You reached behind you to undo your bra and let it fall to the floor, and the sight of your exposed breasts broke him.

  “I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t hold back anymore. I need to fuck you”, and with that he grabbed your hips and began thrusting roughly into you. The feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out of you, and his fingers digging into your hips felt so good you let him take control. You let out screams of pleasure as you raked your nails down his chest, leaving bright red scratches behind. He let out a deep moan at the pain, and his eyes had gone black, lust completely taking over him.

  “Yes, Myeonnie, take me!” you screamed, and at that he pinned your arms behind your back and pulled you onto him, thrusting into you even deeper. With every stroke you could feel him hit your g-spot, which combined with the friction against your clit catapulted you into your second orgasm. The intensity caused your muscles to spasm, and your grip around Jun-myeon’s cock was even tighter. He began to grunt, and you could tell that his release wasn’t far behind. “Come for me, Jun-myeon! I want you to come inside me” you cried and seconds later you felt his cock throbbing as his hot seed poured into you. You lay on-top of him for a few moments, panting as you both came down from your highs. You then carefully slid off him and collapsed beside him, spent and deliriously happy.

You shot up at his response. “Wait…do you mean, the Suho? As in, head of the EXO spy agency, Suho?” You were completely bewildered.

“I’ve waited a long time to find a woman like you, y/n” he said, gently pushing aside a lock of hair from your forehead.

“I had a lot of fun too,” you responded, your fingers gently tracing over the marks you left on him, “but this was just a one-time thing, right? I mean, you didn’t even tell me your real name.”

“Oh, I don’t mean for a girlfriend”, he smiled “and you’re right, I didn’t tell you my real name. I’m Suho.”

Your head was spinning. “Wait, how do you know I work in private security? Have you been stalking me?”

  “So you have heard of me, I wasn’t sure if my name had gotten to the private security sector yet”, he said casually. “Well, yes, I am that Suho. How would you like to come work for me?”

“Relax, I haven’t been stalking you!” He laughed, “You still had your work badge on at the bar, didn’t you realize? Well, don’t worry, spies don’t wear name tags. Kinda defeats the whole purpose of you know, being a spy”.

  You began to calm down as you took everything in. Everyone in your field, both security and criminals, had heard about the EXO spy agency. They were a group of elite operatives, the go-to agents when you needed something done right without leaving a trace. You had also heard whispers of a charismatic leader Suho, but anybody who had met him was sworn to absolute secrecy and leaking any information about him beyond his name would lead to certain death.

“I don’t understand, why would you want me to work for you”, you asked genuinely.

A giant smile spread across your face. “How soon can I start?”

  “When I saw your badge, I immediately recognized the name of your firm. I know that family only hires the best, which means that you have to have intelligence, technical skills, and great fighting technique. They might not be to EXO standard, but I’m confident you can be trained. What’s special about you is that you have something none of my agents have, something that I’ve been needing. When I saw you at the bar, you exuded this raw sexual power, and tonight was proof that you have the ability to get any man under your control. Men will be completely vulnerable to you, and that’s invaluable to me. So, what do you say, do you want to become a member of the EXO spy agency?”

[tcm]

Pathologically Virginal: MARNIE (‘64) By Theresa Brown

Marnie: “You don’t love me. I’m just something you’ve caught. You think I’m some kind of animal you’ve trapped. 

Mark: “That’s right, you are. And I’ve caught something really wild this time, haven’t I? I’ve tracked you and caught you, and by God I’m going to keep you.” 

2020 has sadly struck again!

In a year of celebrity deaths that have been one dagger after another in my film and tv-loving heart, the death of Sean Connery (August 25, 1930 - October 31, 2020) struck a deep blow. He was a mountain - strong, imposing; a sequoia - majestic, timeless. For me, he was a living breathing contemporary because he was an actor whose movies I saw in the theater. Yeah, yeah people can bring up how un-PC he was with women in his personal life. A disturbing and very valid point. Thing is, I think with my heart where movies are concerned - sorry - and I mostly cared about his film performances. He was the textbook definition of a Movie Star to my girlish 13-year old heart - (THUNDERBALL [‘65 ]) - and I haven’t been able to shake that definition since, even as I push 70. Sean Connery was tall, dark and cruelly handsome with a sonorous voice and the athletic swagger of a panther. He was suave.

TCM is honoring Sean Connery the movie star by featuring a night of his films. MARNIE (’64) is considered one of Alfred Hitchcock’s least successful films. I don’t know why. It’s always been one of my favorites. I think the movie’s garnered more praise in recent years. I saw the filmed opera from the Met based on this film, so it must have some merit. This is the second time Hitchcock uses psychology as a motif in his films, with the first being in 1945 with SPELLBOUND. In MARNIE, he includes all the elements, including the kitchen sink, one might discuss on a shrink’s couch for $50-150 an hour: a girl and her horse /kleptomania/fear of men/fear of sex/parental approval denied and a psychosexual childhood trauma all baked into the suspense of finding out the root cause of Marnie’s issues.

“I told you not to marry me. I told you. Oh God, why couldn’t you just let me go...The only way you can help me is to leave me alone! Can’t you understand, isn’t it plain enough. I can’t bear to be handled...I just never wanted anybody to touch me...I didn’t want to get married. It’s degrading. It’s animal.”

Tippi Hedren is perfect as the repressed Marnie. Is she the last of the great Hitchcock blondes? Yes, and she has the similar glacial beauty of you-know-who, if one must compare. But I find Hedren to be her own person. As Marnie, she is as taut and tight as a drum and does a good job expressing that. There’s an edginess to her; and a desperation. There are bursts of anger that unwittingly (and ironically) escape before she’s able to tamp them down again. I like how she shows Marnie thinking on her feet...trying to jump on any opening to use to her advantage to escape her husband. She shows love for her horse, contempt for her husband and desperation for her mother’s love. I believe her performance.

“Don’t patronize me Mark. That Mary-Marnie brown-haired blonde you married so fast and sneaky and tried to hustle off to the South Pacific for Pete’s sake. I didn’t have to overhear stuff about your not intending to go to jail too, to know you’re in some sort of fix.”

Also featured is the always compelling Diane Baker, a dark and lovely counterpart to Marnie’s blonde troubles. As Lil Mainwaring, Baker offers just the right amount of smarts, snark, observation and tension as a rival for Connery’s attention. Of course, she loses (blondes rule, this is Hitchcock remember. See Suzanne Pleshette in THE BIRDS [‘63]), but she makes you want to know more about her. However, the feather in Hitchcock’s cap is getting actress Louise Latham (“Marnie, you’re achin’ my leg,”) as Marnie’s mother who holds the key to all of it.

“You’re a cold, practiced, little Method actress of a liar...Let’s back up and see if you can turn that Mt. Everest of manure into a few facts...We’ve established that you’re a thief and a liar. Now, what is the degree? Are you a compulsive thief - a pathological liar?”

It is Hedren’s film, but I’ll focus on Sean Connery here since TCM is spotlighting him in remembrance. He’s a different character from James Bond, but his Mark Rutland is still dangerous, commanding. He’s not wholly a good guy in this movie. Alright, alright, he’s really NOT a good guy in this movie. He knows Marnie’s a thief when his company hires her. She doesn’t know he knows. He has her there to watch her like you would a rat in a laboratory maze. When he finds out she’s stealing, he doesn’t hand her over to the police; he blackmails her. To put a fine point on it, it’s sexual blackmail. 

“I’m sick? Take a look at yourself, old dear. You’re so hot to play mental health week, what about you? Talk about dream world, you’ve got a pathological fix on a woman who’s not only an admitted criminal, but who screams if you come near her. So what about your dreams, Daddy dear?” 

Sounds masochistic to me. The patriarchy is in full effect here. He knows what’s best for her. He has power and dominion over her and he plays at being an amateur psychiatrist. How does Hitchcock’s own pathology inform some of his movies? That’s an essay for another time. But frankly, I love his twistedness. Purists quibble and rag about the rear screen projection and painted backdrops Hitch uses. But I say you rag at your own risk of not seeing the forest (on Sean Connery’s chest) for the trees of the bigger story being told. MARNIE might not be the type of obvious suspense thriller we normally associate with ‘The Master of Suspense.’ No beautiful spy lady or escapes across landmark monuments. No swapping murders or knife-wielding mothers. No dismemberment across the courtyard or priests holding murderers’ secrets or corpses at a dinner party. If you’re going to delve into the twists and turns of the human mind, who better than Hitchcock to give you a visual roadmap?

[secondhoekage]

Ignore this long rant I’m high as shit but I... can’t take the hero commission oR HONESTLY THE HEROES THEMSELVES, seriously anymore

They’re BRAINLESS they all share one (1) brain cell and it belonged to Crust. THESE GUYS had MONTHS to strategize this attack and what did they do? They fucked it up. They want me to believe this was planned and not written on a chalk board the night before? Sent out to all heroes the next morning at 8am in a CHAIN EMAIL?

Unpopular opinion(?): they sent the worst possible, ill-suited heroes to each location for this PLF raid and I’m mad at them for it and I’m mad at Hori for making me be mad at it even tho he had to do it beCauSe oF pLot but I’m mad.

The MLA’s plans to take on The League of Villains? Spotless. Chef’s kiss. The detail. The one-on-one counters they planned out. Accounting for each enemy’s quirk. Yeah there were like 6 of them to account for but?? Heroes, yall had enough info and enough time to think of ways to go about this raid and I’m supposed to believe that you did, BUT DID YOU REALLY? MONTHS TO PLAN, and saw one electric Sir Crocodile rip-off and immediately threw Kaminari on his ass. Good move. Kinda. But the rest of the PLF? Heroes just gonna make shit up as they go I guess?? 

To make myself feel better here’s a long ass useless rant on what could’ve damn happened and which heroes should’ve gone where and to make this an epic ass rumble. ugh. Even just doing some of these things would’ve made this arc (imo) feel more... convincing and delicious

under the cut tho bc damn this is too long

In this essay I will—

Edgeshot??? EDGESHOT??    EDGESHOT?? i’M GOING TO GO OFF. 

I swear to shit Edgeshot could’ve soloed the hospital but they had him at the PLF mansion for Some Reason like... like they didn’t make him run up on the League’s bar instead of the Nomu factory bc they knew he would take care of shit immediately. Make it make sense. If he was at the hospital eye just—Nomu in the way?? Doctor running off? Say less. Electric slide all the way in there Shinya. DID NO ONE SEE HOW EASILY HE HANDLED KUROGIRI? Did everyone just forget this man can pull a K.O in .3 seconds flat? Heroes didn’t think it might be a good idea to have him there, ready to give Shigaraki the paper cut of his life the second he woke up (if he even did bc my mans likely could’ve prevented the ‘doctor getting away>high-end awaken>rush to get shiggy out of the tank>shiggy wakes up’ chain of events)? Didn’t think to send him instead of this guy X Less just sitting there with That Look on his face? 

I get they needed heroes like Edgeshot at the mansion to take out a handful of enemies in one go but COME ON NOW. There were more than enough long-range AOE heroes there. And even if you don’t wanna believe he could solo then STILL, EDGESHOT DUOING WITH MIRUKO, ANYBODY? If anyone was gonna keep up with her happy ass zooming into the lab it could’ve been him. We were robbed of an Edgeshot/Miruko teamup and I’m not okay. Could’ve had a sexy ass panel of the hospital-team hyping up Miruko and Edgeshot as they dashed to Ujiko’s lab, two fast as shit bad bitches, zooming through these Nomu, absolutely obliterating them at lightning speed, watching each other’s backs too, PROBABLY SAVING MIRUKO FROM BECOMING THE PRE-DEATH ORGAN DONOR THAT SHE IS NOW. I know it was hot watching Miruko take on these high-ends but I’d have rather Edgeshot share the spotlight if it meant Miruko was in one piece rn. Hori played her

Anyways the literal dumb bitch energy that went into not sending Edgeshot to the hospital is sending me. Could’ve at least let him just be on the team and on standby while Shigaraki was waking up. With those sharp as shit reflexes of his we’ve seen? Shigaraki would’ve been out like a fucking light the second Edgeshot saw him sit up. X-Less you had a nice thicc upper lip that lip was too shaded for you to die, but F in the chat bitch. Useless plot fodder I’m sorry X-Less. There isn’t a hero there right now (besides Aizawa but like... idk, plot is nerfing him) that could’ve incapacitated Shiggy so quickly and prevented the mess they’re in now like my guy Edgeshot could’ve. Feels like a cop out

In conclusion: Edgeshot sweety I’m sorry they did this. I’m sorry you were nerfed. I’m sorry they didn’t let you deliver Kamino Pizza to this hospital. I’m sorry they ignored you and now everyone’s gonna die bc they didn’t they respect your Ninpo rights

CEMENTOSS??? y’all sent him to fuck up the mansion FOR WHAT??? If I were the hero commission and thought :

“Dang we need to completely ass blast this huge PLF resort to make room for our heroes to run in... but it would also be good if we had someone to do that at the hospital too just in case things get tricky and we need to pave a quick way to Ujiko’s secret hideout... but I’m single-celled and can’t weigh my options logically so ok. Cementoss, to the mansion.”

...................... Ok but can I in interest you in PIXIE BOB? I get the mansion is huge but going by the shit we’ve seen her do?? I’m not about to underestimate ol’ girl. I know she could’ve fucked that place up if they let her, switched her out for Cementoss, who could’ve made THE EASIEST route for the hospital team to get into the secret lab, trapped Ujiko, also trapped a couple nomu/high-ends in cement while he was at it, rearranged some tunnels for optimal tactical movement, probably could’ve done a decent-fucking-job at slowing the onslaught of Decay too if it got to that point (AND IT MIGHT NOT HAVE BC THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS RANT IS TO INSIST THAT A BETTER SELECTION OF HEROES WOULDN’T HAVE RESULTED IN SHIGGY’S CURRENT THANOS SNAP ORdEAL)

I know Pixie’s mostly on rescue operations and that’s what she’s doing at the hospital/surrounding city but WHY?? EVEN IF THEY REALLY NEEDED CEMENTOSS AT THE MANSION—WHY NOT HAVE PIXIE BOB DOING SOMETHING IN THE ACTUAL HOSPITAL BATTLE? JUST A LITTLE? The hospital is built on uh.. oh yeah... EARTH? And considering in the Forest Training arc she was using her quirk from a remote location (to make that Earth golem, or whatever) she wouldn’t even HAVE to be IN Ujiko’s lab to be useful

Can y’all PLEASE put at least ONE of your terraforming heroes at the place where y’all REALLY need them?? And not after-the-fact like y’all just did with Pixie Bob? Because clearly she didn’t do shit this last chapter trying to stop Decay. I’m sorry girl. You may be dead. Terrible.

I would have legitimately sent Snipe to get Ujiko before I sent Miruko and that’s that on that. Where is he even? He was there during the briefing but he’s gone? MIA? Idk. No way Ujiko is getting away from those bullets. Target locked: Ujiko’s hand. Fire. High-end Nomu remote goes bye bye. Then another bullet in the leg. No need to worry about him escaping and waking up high-ends/Shiggy when he doesn’t have kneecaps. Problem solved. No way it would’ve taken that long to break Shiggy’s tank either with a few well-placed pew pews zigging around some Nomu (not that we really wanna break him outta his tank bc look what happened). Snipe’s 6/5 technique stat deserves better!!!!!

Gang Orca did not go off and give a bunch of kids brain damage during the License arc to be so thoroughly ignored here. He’s clearly about to get his shit rocked by some gauged-out ex-Hot Topic employee in the next few chapters and ugh you’re TOO GOOD FOR THAT ORCA. COULD’VE BEEN OF USE AT THE HOSPITAL. PARALYZING SONIC WAVES? WE’LL TAKE IT. Who knows if any of the high-end Nomu would’ve been affected by paralysis but the small fry? Probably. Shiggy’s little twink ass? I would bet on it. Not that it would really stop him from using Decay but still

At the risk of sounding like someone I know who endorses child labor (the hero commission) here me out: CAN I GET A UHHH JUZO HONENUKI??? AGAIN YEAH good that he was at the mansion to do some long-range AOE action but if y’all are gonna force kids to join in on this war anyways, put your strongest and most useful ones at the place you need them. Shit it would’ve been real nice if Honenuki was there to trap some Nomu—uncertain if it would work against the high-ends that show some pretty flexible quirks but who knows—and even at the risk of reaching, maybe in some universe where Shiggy and Honenuki face off, it would be interesting to see Decay against Softening, since Decay’s one big weakness is that it can only work on solid objects sooOooOo? Idk. Would’ve been a cool match up but I hate that the kids are fighting anyways so we’re gonna ignore this Juzo rant. Just know it would’ve been cool

And as for the mess that’s going to be this fucking mansion soon... .. We’re just gonna ignore a whole ass Geten, big destructive power, big fucking threat, and not gonna throw Endeavor’s ass in there? Makes sense. They’re leaving it to Shoto I guess. They said time for you to fucking shine kid. Get in there. I mean really trading Endeavor for Edgeshot would’ve been top tier strategy but...

I MEAN THEY?? Made up a whole ass plan to counter ONE greasy-looking PLF guy by throwing Kaminari in there, but they couldn’t make up a plan to counter Geten? Are they just?? Pulling names out of a hat to see who gets to fight who? Did they spin a bottle to see who it landed on? Did Mt. Lady pull the short stick? I swear on shit when Geten starts going feral soon I’m not gonna feel sorry about it. Unless heroes got a plan and someone’s gonna make a sexy ass top 10 anime entrances to counter his ice then I’m disappointed. We went ape shit over Kaminari countering one of the commanders but are we not gonna get anymore ‘I’m your perfect counter and I’m here to stop you’ moments? No? I’M PISSED. 

I would have also settled for my kween Nejire being there to blast away some ice because who tf else is gonna do it? But eh. 

Dabi will also be trouble depending on what he decides to do. He only has about 3 good ideas a month and he’s used them all up by now so he’s in dumb slut territory as we speak. But you’d think that a villain as widely recognized as Dabi with such a destructive quirk would urge the heroes to have some plan to take him on but?? So far I don’t really see anyone quick to take on the role. Not that it’d be that hard bc he’s dangerous but also dangerously dumb. Where is Inasa. Maybe he can just blast the flames back in Dabi’s face. I love him but at this point he deserves to have some of his rights taken away

Don’t even get me start on Gigantomachia. I get the heroes had little choice except to attack before Shiggy was full-power but just?? NOT having a plan in case by some little chance Gigantomachia DID wake up? You stupid bastards. You absolute fools. I guess there’s not much you CAN do but FUCK y’all just gonna let him SIT THERE? No counter measures? No ‘Let’s execute this incredibly thorough and thought-out plan we’ve spent months formulating to restrain Gigantomachia in case he does end up waking up, because better safe than sorry’? When he tramples like 50 students I bet that shit gonna hurt

I hate it all. I was really happy about seeing Shiggy go off 272 bc he’s a king but after rereading from like, 258 I feel... weird. Maybe this will be resolved with more chapters but. eh. Now that I’ve thought of this, I can’t go back. I miss the brain power that was behind the MLA fight

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x12: Don't say we'll have to let it go...

After a very stressful morning and several moments in which I was close to a full sanity slip completely unrelated to this, it is high time (heck, it's the highest of times, if you know what I mean) I got to the new HSMTMTS, the last one for a while.

I'm honestly scared, though. This morning I thought nothing could make me more nervous today than the whole ordeal I had to go through, but now that I'm here, I'm super scared and anxious. I don't even want to say it, but... what if this is... you know what I'm thinking. We're all thinking it. I just hope we're wrong in a good way.

I feel like I might die of anxiety, so I guess I'll just dive in. Whatever will be, will be.

Supportive Nini is best Nini. Honestly, I haven't liked her all season as much as I do now. The background, behind-the-scenes role seems to fit her a lot better than the lead. I hope to see more of her like this when (fingers crossed!!!) the show comes back.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, is a perfect lead. She was born for this, and it shows. It shows so much that everybody has finally noticed it. They took their time, didn't they?

Ugh, I hate, hate, hate this kind of moment that happens every time when someone has prepared a surprise for someone else — and we saw that twice this season — once with Carlos at his Quinceañero, and now with Ashlyn. I mean the moment before they find out about the surprise and they feel like they've been forgotten and it's all so sad... at least I know whatever my boy Reddy has planned for his girl will make up for that sort of feeling. I can't wait!

Ahhhhh @redlyncentral you called it! You called it big time! I can't say I wasn't expecting it to be something like this, though, because I trust your sixth sense more than I trust mine — and I trust mine a lot. Also, if anyone deserves to have their name in lights, it's Ashlyn. And remember when she told Big Red that, to make things light up, he just had to walk into a room? Or when he told her that the only thing he'd throw at her was a brighter spotlight? You know, I think that, just like airports are Portwell's thing, lights are Redlyn's thing. And that is so beautiful... I am legitimately crying.

Yikes... see, it's one thing when Nini calls Ricky 'Richard'. But it's another thing entirely when Kourtney calls Howie 'Howard'. Gosh, I hope they clear things up. If Howie has something to say (as in, some secret to come clean about, if you catch my drift), he'd better do it now. I was never too invested in Kowie, but it still hurts to see tension between them.

Ok, but... these two are too dorky for words! I mean, you're telling me Howie was acting that way just because of how nervous Kourtney's talent made him? Oh well, I feel like I can understand that, actually. She's a powerhouse. But also, everyone around here needs to learn a lesson or two from Redlyn. About communication, reciprocity, expression of feelings... it's no accident that they're the parents of the drama club. But this is not about them. Oh, who am I kidding? With me, everything is about them. Unless it's about Seblos or Portwell. Never mind. Moving on.

I am trying very hard not to have a visible or audible reaction because my brother is in the room and I'm supposed to be working, but... EJ had his dad put in a good word for Mr Mazzara at Caltech. And that is something that makes me feel feelings I can't very easily put into words. Also, what does that mean for Mr M's future at East High?

As clear as the imprint of Jamie's words is to see on EJ's face, I feel like he's not giving up on Portwell quite yet. 'Play it by ear' sounded quite promising to me, all things considered.

Not Ricky and Nini writing the same thing in slightly different words... again! I absolutely get why people ship them, at least on the surface level I do, but I really can't see them as a couple anymore. That is not to say, however, that I'm not rooting for them on their way to figuring out how to be 'just' friends. (See, I'm not a big fan of the expression 'just friends', as if it's something less than a romantic relationship, so...) They could be the best friends ever. If, and only if they learn to communicate properly. All kinds of relationships require good communication. I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but, you know, if it's true...

I can't look at Miss Jenn the same way after last week's episode. The Menkies have turned her, quite frankly, into a monster. She's too obsessed with beating Zacky Roy to notice how she's treating her students who have always been nothing but devoted to her and the play. Well, some of them anyway... I feel like it's time for Carlos to reconsider his opinion of her... and I know it must be painful, and the least thing I'd ever wish for him is pain, but... sometimes certain painful things are necessary. I just hope everyone comes out of this alright. I think I might not, though. I've been crying for a while already.

No... why is Gina crying? My girl needs a hug... Oh, here comes Nini. This seems like it's been a long time coming.

This was beautiful... only one character played by an actress named Olivia will be redeemed today. And it's the right one, if I do say so myself.

Alright, who called it? Gina connecting Nini with her brother about her music, I mean. I know for a fact someone here called it. If you happen to be that genius and you read this, please come forward in the notes to get the credit you deserve. This is... a little too perfect to be true, but I feel like it's the best way to connect and wrap up several storylines with one blow. And I love when that happens. Gosh, why does this feel like a series finale? Please tell me I'm wrong. I am not ready. I will never be ready. Ok, maybe one day I will be, but not anytime soon. Please tell me my feeling is deceiving me this time.

Oh, good, it's being addressed. The 'jump off of something high' comment, I mean. It would have been wrong not to address it. I kind of really liked the way they did it, too. Also, 'getting there' really is the most accurate answer to the question whether Ricky is happy. I feel like he's got a long way to go before he does get there, but he really is closer to that destination than he's been in a while. This boy deserves all the happiness. He's been through way too much. And I'm glad Miss Jenn is finally seeing her part in his struggles throughout the year.

Ahhh it's the song! I've been so excited for it all week, ever since that teaser leaked. But, once again: why does this feel like a finale? I want to curb my anxiety and watch this episode with a free mind, but the episode itself just isn't helping me. Ok, let's go back to the song for now. Whatever will be, will be.

No... EJ's verse... just no. Somebody tell that boy not to be so hung up on the words of somebody who doesn't even know who Gina is today. I've had 'the majestic S.S. Portwell' for a couple of weeks and I'm not ready for it not setting sail after it was almost out of the... port(well). Have I ever told you I make bad puns when I'm anxious?

Carlos doesn't even remember being on stage... that's too relatable to be overlooked. See, I used to perform on stage (I've decided to quit for good now and it makes me cry only slightly), and that has always been how I've felt about it. I feel like my favourites are who they are because I relate to each one of them to an extent — some are who I think I am, some are who I used to be, and some are who I wish I could become... and so much more on top. I'm being so emotional. I'm not ready to let these kids go. Please someone tell me I won't have to, at least not quite yet.

The Wildcats' reaction to... Capital-B-witch and Fake-French-Git-who-is-apparently-French-for-real (as I've taken to calling those two because calling them by their real names would mean showing them respect which they don't deserve) was exactly the same as mine. No one invited them there. They're not supposed to be there. Someone kick them out.

'Big Red... you were... also there!' Um, excuse you, he was not just 'there'! I mean, I know we didn't get to see him on stage (we've been robbed!!!), but I'm sure he was the most amazing LeFou to ever grace a theatre stage. That being said, we have been robbed! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I want to see what Big Red's reaction will be. I've been fantasising about this moment for weeks now.

Ok... so I said a couple of weeks ago, in my post on 2x10, that Ricky has been given a chance to prove what kind of friend he is right then and there... and, well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, but it was nice. I think that's the word for it. Nice. Ricky is just too nice to do what I kept seeing in my fantasy. And Big Red is doubly too nice to do it. But I... I surprise myself sometimes with how aggressive I can get in defence of other people. Maybe it's better this way than my way.

Did that capital-B-witch just say what I thought I heard her say? Because there's no way she just said that. Also, 'sometimes people deserve a second chance'... well, yeah. And sometimes they don't, you... well, I don't use words like that, but you guys can put two and two together, right?

'I'd trade it all for this group right here tonight'... me too, Eej, me too. I'm not even going to pretend I'm not crying because, guess what, I'm bloody bawling my eyes out! I kind of stopped for a moment when you-know-who and her second-in-command came in, but now I'm crying again. I am so not ready to let these kids go.

So... they're dropping out? Just like that? Well, that was anticlimactic! But hey, I absolutely get it. That's the Wildcat spirit, after all, isn't it? They did win already. They won something that some of North High's students can never understand. And that's more important than just about anything. [side note: I've got to say I appreciate the fact that my boy Reddy is now able to joke about his opening night predicament. See, that's another thing I relate to. I go through the craziest stuff, and then I laugh and tell stories to anyone who will listen. And I think that's the best approach to that kind of stuff. I just wish I could be less dramatic about the little things, too. It seems to me it's easier to laugh about the big, serious stuff once it's over, but not about some things that most people would deem unworthy of their attention. But hey, I'm working on that. Also, this post is not supposed to be about me. Moving on.]

Bless Ashlyn and the fact that she's good at communication. Even if she's a little late. She's not too late yet. Portwell might still be saved.

No, Ricky, you so did not just call you-know-who! I will not stand for any of that. Unless it's to shut her off once and for all, in which case I say go for it and go full steam. But why do I get the feeling it's not going to be like that? Ok, never mind, let's set that one aside and focus on Portwell for a second.

Ok, that was... that was going to be so beautiful, and then they cut it off. Is Portwell about to be Redlyn 2.0? Oh well, if it really is, that isn't going to be so bad after all. But now all I can think about is... when are we getting the renewal? How am I supposed to sleep at night until we know for sure?

Not them making me cry with a BTS montage... as if I wasn't crying hard enough already. I'm not alone in the house, you guys! In fact, we're having a bunch of guests from overseas in... wait, I think they're at the door. I'm not ready for people! Not now. Pray for me, you guys! (In all seriousness, though, don’t pray for me. Pray for a season 3 announcement to come soon)

[legalvinyl]

Epitomizing Classic Rock Lead Guitar

Half the fun of being a musician is trying to look like, sound like, and play like your heroes.  While this path often leads to expensive sessions on websites like eBay and reverb searching for that next magical piece of gear and alternating between moments of joy and frustration as you get a little closer to playing like your idols but then realizing the closer you get just how much better they are than you - regardless, chasing this dream is a lot like chasing the dragon; it probably isn’t possible but you’re going to try anyways.

In the world of guitar playing, which is a world I’ve proudly inhabited now since the single digits in age, the unfailing chase for ‘that tone’ is something that comes as a universal qualifier once someone gets comfortable enough to rip a pentatonic scale with a little bravado and confidence.  While I love rhythm guitar playing and think it’s one of those areas that truly makes a great guitar player (especially when playing with others or in a band setting), my heart rests in the beauty and magic of the solo and melody in lead guitar playing.  There’s something so expressive, like a direct link from your emotions and your soul to the fretboard that creates a special bond and demands full attention from not only yourself, but also your audience.  It’s a spotlight moment, and as much as it presents an opportunity to sound like a cliché poser, it can also bring a strong moment of glory that feels so gratifying after rehearsing and practicing licks repeatedly until one can play them from muscle memory alone.  This compilation of songs demonstrates some of my favorite and most influential guitarists at the top of their game.  I hope it can serve as inspiration for aspiring guitar players and entertains some rock music fans who just want to groove along with players that make the connection between the instrument and the individual seem more like a spiritual illumination than just a guy pulling on some strings on a dead piece of wood.  

Starting with the most classic rock sounding classic rock possible, we have Paul Kossoff ripping his Les Paul into a cranked Marshall stack (the true epitome and peak of rock n roll) in the song I’m A Mover from the Free Live! album.  That crunchy guitar tone makes up the vast majority of the left pan of the mix, so listeners can hear every detail and nuance in his playing clearly.  And boy does he use that space to good use.  Kossoff combines some tasteful but not overly exaggerated riff-based rhythm playing with opportunities to launch off into vibrato heavy solos all the while keeping a perfect understanding of the timing of the song and the rest of the band.  It’s a tight song that gives the lead player just the right amount of ‘free’dom without getting lost in excess.  Kossoff doesn’t try to use too many notes or pull the song in his direction entirely; he stays central to the bluesy message of the song and lets his fingers do the talking with impactful and purposeful words with every note.  

Next, we’ll move to my two favorite guitarists of all time (which I could’ve used as examples for probably over a hundred songs of lead mastery) starting with Eric Clapton.  This recording is unique for a variety of reasons, but mostly because it features such an incredible all-star lineup called the Dirty Mac which features (get ready for it) John Lennon on rhythm guitar and vocals, Keith Richards on bass, and Mitch Mitchell on drums.  And for you guitar nerds out there, Clapton rips his signature cherry red es-335 into a fender stack that conjures up serious undertones of Clapton’s biggest influencer, the great B.B. King.  The tone is a little thin and snarly for Clapton during this stadium-playing Cream-era time of his guitar career, but I love it as a deviation from his usual sound that also informs his playing and almost shows his personality more in a lot of ways than his typical Marshall stack sound does.  And Clapton is really at his best here soloing over the entire 4-minute song with all the soul and character that made countless guitar players in the late 60’s gush over.  Just watch the video, these are all legends in rock music having fun and absolutely killing a great Beatles cover.

My second favorite guitar player, Mick Taylor from The Rolling Stones, is rarely mentioned in debates of sensational lead players for very strange and inscrutable reasons.  Simply listen to his lead work on Hide Your Love and you’ll get goosebumps at Mick’s ability to combine difficult sequences with endless amounts of taste and feel.  This classic blues song lets Mick showcase his chops in the background during the entire song, and Jagger even shuts up every once in a while, to let him really steal the show.  There’s this sense of control and expertise that comes across in this track that only a true master could convey, and I really think this represents unbeatable guitar work no matter who would try to challenge him.

The passionate, almost violent guitar sound from Jeff Beck’s Let Me Love You is unique and gutsy in all the best ways.  Another very bluesy track from another English group, this track demonstrates how fighting with your guitar can feel like a bluesman at the crossroads who’s truly battling with the devil.  The tone is unique, the playing is inflamed, and the notes are all creative and expressive in a manner that would make a lot of guitar players scratch their heads and think ‘how the hell did he do that?’.

Another angry song from a player who needs no introduction, Tony Iommi’s playing on the track Jack the Stripper / Fairies Wear Boots is genre defining and innovative to say the least.  The song’s introduction almost has a jazzy feel; it’s free-flowing and loose, but the unity between guitarist, bassist, and drummer is so tight that the listener never feels lost and the track never seems directionless.  Although this track isn’t one big soloing showcase like some of the others, I challenge any guitarist who thinks they know their chops to play along with this in perfect time and with the same refined rage that Iommi musters.  It’s a killer track with a distorted metal tone that takes its roots from more bluesy and latin-flavored backgrounds, and it shows that heavy rock and metal sounds can come from fewer notes played with fervor rather than haste.

The last track ends this list like a sweet desert.  Blue Sky by the Allman Brothers is a masterclass of taste and self-command.  Two guitars trade solos that feel exactly like a warm summer sun, and the notes seem to radiate out from the guitarist’s souls rather than their fingers.  Almost as if Jerry Garcia had grown up on a peach farm, the solos are melodic and don’t feel like standard pentatonic runs or played out blues riffs.  Every note is purposeful and connects the phrases together with a real naturalness that somehow makes the listener feel like they’re in the middle of a field on a beautiful day no matter their setting or time of year.  It’s a song that captures a vibe unlike any other, and the guitar playing is so perfect for the track that you can’t help but smile.

Obviously not an entirely exhaustive list as I’ve had to omit a few guitarists that certainly deserve your attention, as well, but I hope this gives the classic rock guitarist a wide range of sounds and playing styles to learn from and appreciate.  Every guitarist mentioned in this list has other great tracks in their catalogue, and I strongly encourage you to invest yourself into their playing even more to discover further inventiveness that should provide countless hours of learning and inspiration.  Cheers and enjoy!

YouTube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeFwaWFTGYU

Mick Taylor Photo: https://sfae.com/Artists/Dominique-Tarle/Mick-Taylor-Recording-in-the-Basement-Studio-Nellc

[37-children-of-the-dreams]

Day #31: Fearless

Dear Dave Filoni, thank you for being the next person who had hurt me through a fictional character. I saw the leak and now this fanfiction of Crosshair and Korkie has gotten a million times sadder. Especially because this means Crosshair would never be friends, let alone acquaintances, with Korkie. He'd just kill Korkie if they met.

Because of Dave, the next titles will just be Taylor Swift songs for reasons.

-------------------

Crosshair had a long list of things he hated in life. Regs, war, discord and people.

True, bringing Korkie in his life brought some discord, but he gave him some stability in his new life. Also, Korkie mostly made sure there was some sense of peace. And he never saw Crosshair as just a clone, but a person he loves to marry.

But Bo-Katan? Crosshair was willing to put a technical war crime in his resume. As in kidnap the heir to the Mandalorian throne, and marry him so Bo-Katan can't do anything. Which was one part of their insane plan.

Looking at his Korkie and the aunt who abandoned him made Crosshair grab Korkie's hand to make sure they couldn't take him away.

"Drop your filthy hands off my nephew!" Bo-Katan barked.

"No," Crosshair declared. "I'm Korkie's fiancé, and only he has the rights to tell me anything."

Bo-Katan glared at Korkie. Korkie glared back in defiance and tightened the grasp Crosshair had of his hand. He can't break his stoic face and smile at Crosshair's declaration. He wants Bo-Katan to know who he'll listen to.

"Korkie Kryze, you need to stop this! Your relationship with this clone will destroy our House. Don't you want to bring glory back to this House? To Satine? The woman who raised you?"

"Don't you ever dare use my mother against me!" Korkie roared. "I was the one who had always stayed by her side while you ran off with Death Watch because you were a coward who couldn't argue with my mother."

Bo-Katan opened her mouth, but Korkie used the Force to shut her up. Bo-Katan felt her mouth closing and saw that Korkie had his free hand raised. She mentally gasped at the revelation and knew what Korkie might be capable of.

"I am not done," he added. "I know I'm just a young boy to you, but I've just found things about me that made realize how much I needed to grow up. One, I, and by extension you, came from a long line of Force Seers who could see the past and future. Two, I've been using the Force to see our family's history and you know I'm not wrong when I said you ran from Mother because you were never one to win an argument with words. And lastly, Crosshair is my future husband and I don't care if you hate him, you need to respect my choice or I'm going to make things harder on you."

Korkie dropped his free hand Crosshair hugged him in the back. Crosshair smirked at the sight of Bo-Katan freezing at the knowledge that she has no more power over Korkie. And even if she did, who's to say Korkie wasn't going to bolt and leave Mandalore for good?

Bo-Katan finally stopped being a statue and looked at the sight of her nephew with his lover. It disgusted and rocked Bo-Katan to her core that Korkie would follow in Satine's steps in choosing the wrong person to love. She didn't even need to guess who helped sired Korkie because she already knew, and she hated how he had picked a clone who might have worked with his father.

Bo-Katan must right this wrong before Korkie marries the clone and destroy his future as Duke of Mandalore.

"I will leave for now," she said. "But I'll come back with my Nite Owls. You know what must happen or else."

Korkie sighed. "Really? Threatening my nanny? You might be my aunt by blood, but Nanny Rana is more of an aunt to me than you."

Bo-Katan left the scene through jetpack, but she still heard the screams of a pissed off Korkie. The only way to right a wrong between Kryzes is a duel. Winner take all, loser must fall.

Korkie screamed at the air as Bo-Katan left. He almost fell to the floor, but Crosshair was still hugging him and he sat the angry former duke on the floor. Rana got to his side as Crosshair was running his hands through Korkie's hair. The nanny hugged her former charge and walked him through their old breathing tactics.

"She's the one who left me!" he argued. "I'm nothing to her. Nothing!"

"Maybe in your head," Crosshair said. "But you're actually important Korkie. You were announced as your mother's heir, and Bo-Katan has not right to say you're not."

"He's not wrong," Rana agreed. "You might have been under house arrest, but unless you die, Bo-Katan has no power over what you are. You might think of yourself as a former royal, but that's not true."

"But I haven't been active in almost a year," Korkie argued. "Bo-Katan has been in the spotlight, not me."

"But who was the one with the bounty?" Crosshair reminded. "They know how important you are. You're the real heir, not Bo-Katan."

Korkie sighed as the thought settled in. He was so done with the trauma that he basically let him down. He became so dependent on Crosshair's praises that he forgot how much he really cost to Mandalore and the throne. He forgot that Amis, Lagos and Soniee came for him because of who he is. He might have lost his Mother, but he was Satine's heir.

Korkie stood up as Crosshair steadied him. He looked at his future husband and laughed. Crosshair give him a confused look as he stopped laughing.

"You know," he said. "I know you never worked with my father, but you did say you used to work with Commander Cody before, who was my father's second-in-command. My mother fell in love with my father, and now I'm in love with you, who worked with his former second-in-command."

"And why is that important?" Crosshair asked.

"I think Bo-Katan wants to make sure I don't end up like my mother. Falling in love with the supposed enemy. Which makes me want to fight harder for tomorrow."

"But it's late!" Rana protested.

"I'm not losing to Bo-Katan. I want her and her Nite Owls to respect Crosshair."

Rana sighed and gave Korkie her blessing. Korkie left to find a perfect training area.

"Crosshair, come with me!"

Crosshair sighed as he went after Korkie. Korkie lead Crosshair to the basement. There hasn't been a good reason to use the basement in years. It wasn't really much as a basement as an underground training facility. Crosshair was amazed at the Kryze's details in how much they wanted to train their heirs. Weapons were placed everywhere and the floor was basically a battle court floor. Korkie took a sword from the walls and looked at Crosshair.

"Shoot me," he said.

"I know you hate Bo-Katan," Crosshair said. "But no."

"She loves using blasters. You have a rifle."

"Not the same thing."

"Then get one of the blasters here."

Crosshair looked around and saw the amount of blasters around the area. It seemed the favorite weapons in the Kryze family were blasters because there was not one wall that hadn't had a blaster.

"How in the world did you guys turn to pacifism?" Crosshair asked.

"Grandfather Adonai wanted peace," Korkie reminded him.

"But the amount of weapons here."

Korkie laughed as Crosshair picked a blaster. Korkie steadied himself with the sword as Crosshair shot him. Korkie deflected the blast with the sword as Crosshair smiled. They did it alone until Fennec came and help them.

The day broke and Bo-Katan came with her Nite Owls as promised, but she brought a few extras. Amis, Lagos and Soniee came with her to see that Bo-Katan did not end Korkie's life. They were in front of the entrance when the door opened.

Korkie and Crosshair greeted them along with Fennec, Rana, and Luka and Kristal Shand. Crosshair escorted Korkie to Bo-Katan and kissed him good luck in the duel.

Bo-Katan recoiled in disgust at the display. Her Nite Owls whispered among themselves with Amis, Lagos and Soniee keeping quiet.

"Are we sure Korkie Kryze can still be the heir?" one of her Nite Owls asked.

"I can't see him as the heir anymore," one of them replied. "He's allied with a clone."

Bo-Katan glared at her Nite Owls. And then at Korkie.

"You know the rules," she said. "If I win, you must leave that clone. He will never be your husband."

"And if I win," Korkie countered. "You're invited to the wedding."

Amis peeped a small laugh. The Nite Owls looked at him with concern, but the girls smiled at him. Even with the dread atmosphere, Korkie still managed to make a joke.

"Weapons are always used," Bo-Katan continued. "But they can't help you at all."

Bo-Katan pointed at Korkie's party.

"Same with you," Korkie countered again. "Also, is the Force technically a weapon?"

The Nite Owls gasped at the revelation. Their leader's nephew was a Force user? That might that Korkie was not Satine's nephew, but her son with that Jetii!

"Bo-Katan!" one of her followers cried. "You can stop this duel. He's not a Kryze anymore, he's dar'manda."

"Enough!" Bo-Katan ordered. "Korkie is still a Kryze. He just needs to lose the side that makes him a Jedi."

Korkie rolled his eyes as he readied himself with the sword. Bo-Katan shot him, but like last night he never let any blaster fire hit. He was busy closing the gap between them that he had a clear shot of knocking off Bo-Katan's blasters. Which he did making Bo-Katan freeze long enough to head butt her. Bo-Katan stepped back, but steadied herself and fought him hand-to-hand. Korkie was never the best in hand-to-hand, but he always knew how to dodge. He pushed Bo-Katan with the Force and made her land on the ground with her back. Korkie ran to her, sword on hand and stabbed the ground near her face.

"You know I can't kill family," Korkie said. "My mother loved you. As her son and your nephew, please let me be. You know what I am."

Bo-Katan screamed and attacked Korkie making him use the Force once again to scare her into losing. The Force fear was immense and instant that Bo-Katan dropped to her knees and looked at Korkie.

But all she saw was Satine's crying face. It was as if Satine came back to say she needed to accept Korkie's new life. Bo-Katan cried at the spot as Korkie knelt beside her and placed a gentle hand on her back.

"Please don't make me do worse," Korkie begged. "You can be the heir to Mandalore now. We both know they'll figure things out, and they will never accept a Jedi's bastard as a ruler."

Bo-Katan stood up and Korkie raised with her.

"Leave Mandalore," Bo-Katan said. "You've won your freedom. Leave and never use House Kryze's name ever again."

Korkie nodded and went back to Crosshair's side. The two left the mansion with Fennec as Rana and the Shands waved them goodbye. Amis, Lagos and Soniee also waved the three goodbye as they left. Bo-Katan stole one more glimpse of her sister's son and shook her head as the Nite Owls surrounded her with questions.

Korkie could have been the Duke of Mandalore. Now, he's a nobody with a clone for a husband. What a pathetic win.

[missshezz]

Just wanted to say I completely agree with your Bad Batch opinions, much as it pains me to do so. The second Omega showed up, a tiny part of me went "oh no" but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. But my hopes have been for nothing thus far. I want to like this show, and Filoni did turn Ahsoka from one of the most hated characters in the franchise to a fan favorite, but right now Omega is just too perfect, and steals the spotlight from the actual stars, the Bad Batch.

Hi there, anon! 🥰

That’s what aggravates me the most with Bad Batch, I do love the show… when Omega is not present. That’s when the BB are the BB that we met in season 7 of TCW. The elite squad of misfits who were called on by Commander Cody to help them track down if Rex was right about Echo having survived the Citadel.

See, this is the BB we all remember:

But we don’t get to see THIS Bad Batch in Bad Batch unless Omega is not in the picture. Every episode has her ignoring orders/getting into trouble/needing saving/saving the BB from the bad guys/etc.

It’s obnoxiously repetitive.

Her saying to Rex he was a gen one clone based on his wrinkles was just the icing on the stupid cake.

More and more I see where Filoni steals from other movies and repeats his own storylines:

Toy Story 3 (the scene in the droid facility where Omega falls into the pit).

LOTR and ANH with Rex being like Strider/Aragorn and “shooting” the thugs ala Han Solo.

The Mandalorian season 2.

TCW and Rebels even.

Aliens

The Fugitive

The list goes on and on here.

He is not the creative genius everyone thinks he is. Even Lucas didn’t think so because according to the wiki:

So, overlooking characters and focusing only on his own darlings is a known problem with Filoni. He’s in love with his Godling and imagines everyone else will be, too.

Problem is, we’re not.

We’re here for these guys:

Not Omega Sue.

Thanks for the ask! 🥰