#this actually isn't even the song that inspired me to make an edit?

[starrycat123-blog]

Thank you to y'all who replied to this!! Just posted my first edit!! YouTube nerfed the image/graphic (?? Idk which word to use. Image or graphic, pretty sure it's one of those) quality a bit though so maybe I'll make a separate post with the video file itself.

edit: ig youtube didn't destroy the quality?? I thought it did?? bc trying to view it via youtube itself shoves it into shorts format which is. different sizing, but playing the video in tumblr fixes it?? thanks tumblr??

how are ppl making edits of "In Stars And Time"? i google-searched for scene packs and I didn't find any. Do I have to just go to each act and screenshot the heck out of them all? I feel like there must be some faster way to do it.

[alsofoundinpeas]

A Gift of Belonging

Summary: Y/N often avoids family holidays due to her strained relationship with her family, who favors her brother. When Spencer Reid invites her to spend Christmas in New York with him and his mother, she discovers a new sense of warmth and belonging, making it the best holiday she’s ever had.

Requested fic!! 🥳: I was wondering if I could ask for a Spence and Y/N in which Christmas is approaching and Y/N usually spends it alone because she has a complicated relationship with her family that always favors her brother.

Maybe he has plans to go spend it with his mom and because they are in early times in their relationship he didn’t think to invite her, but once he finds out she’s alone, he takes her to meet his mom and they all have a really good time!

I was thinking something angsty, fluffy, and maybe smutty in the end? I don’t know, you’re the mastermind behind these beautiful creations, so whatever makes you feel inspired haha

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Very brief mention of alcohol. Strained relationship with family (repetitive I know). Oral (m!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (birth control is discussed beforehand but said conversation isn't actually in it), creampie (I wince every single time I type that). Fluffy holiday smut!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Reupload because I'm a bingus head and accidentally deleted when editing FORGIVE ME PLS!! I loved writing this request!! Huge thank you to @dalamjisung for the request. I hope you like it :') The song mentioned in the fic is December by Ariana Grande btw, but it's only mentioned because reader listens to it, it isn't mandatory for the fic. I have a few more requests lined up after this one, so as for right now my requests are closed until all of them get posted. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all!!! :) <3

Y/N sighed as she stared down at the text from her mom, re-reading it a few times before tossing her phone to the end of her bed with a frustrated groan.

Mom: Hey sweetie! Are you planning to come home for Christmas this weekend? If not, I completely understand. Honestly, I’m just happy your brother will at least be here. I think he’s bringing his new girlfriend, too, so that’s exciting! He’s always so good about making time for family. But again, no pressure if you’re too busy. I know you have a lot going on!

Her excuses were starting to wear thin, seeing as she had played the flu card for last year’s Christmas party and faked a work emergency to skip Thanksgiving. But the thought of attending her family’s Christmas only to spend the night listening to her brother's achievements, followed by the inevitable barrage of condescending questions about her life, was unbearable. Call her a Grinch or a Scrooge, but the holidays had become her least favorite time of year for this very reason.

Unfortunately, it didn’t even matter if it was a holiday or not. It never changed. Her family had always favored her brother, even when they were kids. She had a never-ending list of chores and rules, while he breezed through life with no curfew and no accountability. Any mistake he made seemed to fall on her, and heaven forbid she stayed out five minutes later than she was supposed to with her friends.

Despite their constant claims that there were 'no favorites,' it was painfully obvious who the real favorite was.

Y/N lay staring at the ceiling, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Christmas this year. On one hand, it would be nice to see her grandmother—the one person who had actually kept her promise of no favorites. But she could always visit her grandmother separately and avoid the hassle of sneaking away just to have a real conversation. On the other hand, her family was already used to being disappointed in her. What was one more excuse? She could always make it up next year.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity of indecision (though it was really only five minutes), she finally decided to skip Christmas again this year and stay home. Her family mostly gave money as gifts now that they were all adults, so she wouldn't be missing much—just a meal (takeout had never let her down) and some forced small talk with extended family (who never really seemed interested in her life anyway).

Y/N: Hey, mom! I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to miss this year too. There’s a bug going around at work and I’m worried I caught it :(

Her mom’s answer was immediate, and the guilt lifted from her shoulders as she rolled her eyes at the response.

Mom: Poor thing! You just have the worst luck when it comes to holidays huh? Your brother must have taken all the good immune system genes or something LOL!! That’s okay, dad and I will mail your gift and I’ll send you lots of pics. Hope you feel better soon!

After firing off a quick 'Thanks, love you!' Y/N rose from the bed, let out a sigh, and wandered to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

She’d tried to convince herself that her parents' indifference no longer hurt, but what had dulled into a constant ache over the years flared into a sharp sting during the holidays. No one wanted to be alone at Christmas, but she knew she had to prioritize her peace of mind—and that meant avoiding an entire day spent deflecting passive-aggressive jabs while her brother soaked up all the attention.

The one person who could make her feel better was across the country, tied up with a case. She wasn’t upset with him—far from it. Y/N admired the work he did and the way he dedicated himself to saving people without ever getting the recognition he deserved. Still, it had been over a week since she’d last seen Spencer, and all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and hear him tell her that everything would be okay.

As if the universe had picked up on her tension, a knock at the door startled her, causing her to jump with a racing heart. She froze, eyes darting to the door, considering whether she should quietly move toward the knife block in case a dangerous stranger stood outside. It was barely 8:30, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone.

After a second round of knocks, relief washed over her as a familiar voice called "Y/N? Sweetheart?" She rushed to the door, unlocking it as quickly as she could and flinging it open to find an exhausted-looking Spencer standing on the other side.

“Spence!” Y/N cooed excitedly, wrapping her arms around him tightly before pulling him inside. “When did you get back? I thought you guys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night?”

Not that she was complaining at all. She loved any time she could spend with Spencer. They’d only been dating for a little over two months, but she’d already fallen hopelessly in love with the sweet genius that she met when he accidentally stumbled into her while in line at their favorite coffee shop (she later found out it was no accident and that Morgan intentionally shoved him into her because Spencer was too afraid to make the first move).

“Technically we weren’t supposed to be, but we ended up getting a confession so it took way less time than we anticipated to finish the case. And with Christmas coming up this weekend, Gideon figured the sooner we got home the better,” Spencer explained with a small, tired grin as he slipped off his shoes and sat his satchel down. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up, I just really missed you. I tried to call beforehand, but I thought maybe your phone was dead or something...” His eyes caught sight of the wine bottle on the island and paused, arching a brow before glancing back down at her. “Rough night?”

Y/N blew out an exasperated huff of air, nodding as they made their way over to her couch. She cuddled into his side immediately, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to do so. Spencer had been hesitant when they first started dating with physical touch, but once he pushed past the initial discomfort, he couldn’t get enough of her affection.

“Yeahhh. I had to tell my mom that I’m not making it home for Christmas again this year and it just… stressed me out a bit.”

Spencer’s face scrunched in confusion, looking down at her worriedly. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. Are you not feeling good? Or what’s stopping you from going?”

Right. They hadn’t had the whole “I love my family from a distance because they act like brother is Saint Michael himself” talk yet. Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, fidgeting with her hands before sighing.

“I… um, it’s complicated. I just prefer not to see my family around the holidays because they’ve always had this weird favoritism for my brother and as I got older I just decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my peace for.”

Spencer frowned, nodding in understanding before his face lit up with realization.

“Well, if you’d like, you could join me and my mom for Christmas? If you don’t want to be alone, that is. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into meeting her! I just planned to check her out of the sanitarium this weekend and bring her to New York City since she’s been doing better on her medication. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, and I, of course, love any time I get to spend with you—“ Spencer began, his words tumbling out nervously as his face flushed and his voice pitched higher.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the invitation, her face lighting up into a wide grin as she gently cupped his face, halting his nervous rambling. He met her gaze, and she smiled softly. "Spencer, I’d love to join you and your mom for Christmas—only if you’re really sure you’re okay with it."

Spencer had first mentioned his mother's illness on their third date, explaining himself after abruptly excusing himself to take a call from her nurse. It was also the night of their first kiss—he had started panicking, flustered and trying to explain his sudden exit, and Y/N thought he might cry. So, she kissed him to calm his nerves. Once he’d settled down, she reassured him that it was completely fine, that she understood how important his mother was to him, and that she’d love to learn more when he was ready to share.

That night, Spencer realized, without a doubt, that he was falling in love with her.

"It’s settled then," Spencer said with a grin, leaning forward to kiss her quickly. "I’m so excited to spend Christmas with my two favorite people. I was actually thinking we could get tickets to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center—"

Y/N listened intently, her heart swelling as she gazed at him with stars in her eyes, enchanted by his excitement as he shared the plans he’d made for the weekend. Although a little nervous, she couldn’t wait to share Christmas with him and his mom. They continued to plan the weekend, finalizing details between sleepy kisses and small yawns until they finally caved to their exhaustion and went to sleep.

The weekend arrived faster than she expected, and nervous excitement washed over Y/N as she waited for Spencer to pick her up from her apartment. She was packed and ready, excited to meet his mom and see New York City sparkling with Christmas decorations. For the first time in years, she felt something other than dread for the holiday, and she couldn’t be more grateful for her sweet boyfriend because of it.

Spencer had picked up his mom the day before, carefully explaining the plan to her during the drive home and making sure she felt well enough to go ahead with it. Diana was overjoyed at the idea of Y/N joining them for Christmas, assuring him she was feeling fine and could hardly wait to meet her.

For the first time in ages, Spencer felt like he had his mom back, her treatment progressing far better than he'd hoped. All it did was make him even more excited for the weekend ahead, his anxiety easing with each hour spent in the car on the way back to his apartment. It was comforting to open up to her about Y/N and to share what had been happening in his life beyond the letters he wasn’t sure she even remembered receiving.

The weekend turned out even better than Spencer had hoped. Diana and Y/N hit it off so well that Spencer found himself mostly on the sidelines of their conversations, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. It filled him with happiness to see his mom and the woman he was now certain was the love of his life getting along so effortlessly.

They had packed in every Christmas activity they could think of: admiring the lights, sipping hot cocoa, watching The Nutcracker... anything that felt festive was crossed off the list. By the end of the weekend, Diana was almost pleading with Spencer to make Y/N her daughter-in-law on the drive back to the sanitarium. Spencer could only laugh nervously, promising to do his best to make it happen.

Once Y/N got home, she knew she had to find a way to thank Spencer—not only for giving her the best Christmas of her life but also for being the most amazing boyfriend she could ever have hoped for. He was going to come back to her place tomorrow so they could exchange their gifts for each other, so whatever she did, she had to do it then before he inevitably got called in for another case. The real question was: how could she possibly show him just how grateful she was?

With a sigh, Y/N turned on her playlist and settled onto the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas. It felt like the harder she thought, the less her brain worked. After agonizing over ideas for nearly fifteen minutes, Y/N was at her wit's end, ready to settle for a card and a lengthy essay to express her gratitude, when the lyrics of the song playing suddenly grabbed her attention.

Merry Christmas, here I am, boy

I'm the present and you know it, here I am, boy

She sat up suddenly, a victorious grin spreading across her face as the perfect idea popped into her head. She and Spencer had yet to make it past second base, not for lack of desire, but because the opportunity never seemed to align—each time they got close, his phone would ring or something would interrupt, stopping them in their tracks. Tomorrow would be the perfect opportunity to finally take that next step and for her to show her appreciation for the sweet genius.

There was a perfect dark red satin lingerie set at a nearby boutique that would bring her vision to life, but it closed in just thirty minutes. Y/N threw on some clothes, making sure she looked presentable, then grabbed her keys and purse and rushed out of the apartment.

The cashier shot her a glare as she approached the counter, and Y/N internally groaned. She already felt like an asshole for being there so late, but she did still have fourteen minutes to spare before they actually closed. The guilt vanished when she met the cashier’s icy stare, and she grabbed her purchase with a mumbled thanks before she hurried out of the store. Sue her for wanting to look sexy for her boyfriend on Christmas.

The next day seemed to drag on, with Y/N anticipating the surprise she had planned for Spencer.

She cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, setting the perfect mood with scattered scented candles and dimming the lights. The room was softly illuminated by her Christmas tree—one she had convinced Spencer to help decorate at the start of the month—and a few strands of lights she had strung up. All of the presents were ready and waiting to be unwrapped.

Now all she was waiting on was Spencer himself.

Three firm knocks echoed at the door, marking his arrival—right on the dot at 5:00. As punctual as ever. Y/N opened the door with a thrilled smile, eagerly tugging him inside.

"Woah, hey! Hello to you too, sweetheart," Spencer chuckles loudly, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, so excuse my enthusiasm,” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry. We can do presents first and then eat, or eat and then unwrap them—whatever you prefer. I honestly could do either, it doesn't matter to me and of course, you're the guest so—”

Spencer grinned as she nervously rambled, her hands gesturing wildly as she listed off options. It was oddly comforting to him that she got just as nervous around him as he did around her. Even though she had quickly become the person he felt most at ease with, a part of him still felt those nerves—after all, she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and the thought of messing things up and losing her terrified him.

“How about we eat first and then open presents? Is that okay with you?” Spencer suggested, offering a small smile.

The tension in Y/N's body eased as she returned the smile, nodding in agreement. "That sounds perfect."

Dinner passed with casual conversation, both Y/N and Spencer chatting between bites about everything from the new book she was reading to the latest research paper Spencer had discovered and found fascinating. They ate more quickly than usual, both eager to exchange the gifts they had carefully picked out for each other. It wasn’t long before they were done, clearing the table and loading the dishes into the sink before heading into the living room.

The two of them sat together in front of the tree, feeling as giddy as a couple of kids as they finally began to exchange presents.

Spencer slowly unwrapped his first gift, his eyes softening as he revealed the delicate, intricately designed watch she'd chosen for him—a gift that held both practical value and deep sentimental meaning. He glanced up at her, a shy but sincere smile spreading across his face, and she felt the warmth in his gaze. “This is… perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. I’ll wear it every day, I promise."

“Always, Spence. I’m so glad you love it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes filled with affection as she watched him. She recalled how devastated he’d been when his previous watch had broken a few weeks ago. Though hers wasn’t as extravagant as his old one, it meant far more to him—because it came from her.

Y/N cherished every gift he gave her: a whimsical coffee mug to add to her collection, a journal with a playful inscription from him that made her laugh—promising she'd have a place to rant about her family when he wasn’t around to listen, a couple of books from her wishlist, and, lastly, her absolute favorite: a delicate locket on a thin chain, holding the first picture they’d ever taken together.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Y/N smiled and stood up, holding her hand out to Spencer. He looked at her in confusion but took her hand without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the couch.

“Keep your eyes closed and stay right here. Your final gift is in my room,” Y/N instructed, a mischievous smile curling at her lips. As soon as his eyes were shut, she darted down the hallway to her room, stifling a soft giggle at the surprise she was about to unveil.

When she came back, she positioned herself between his legs, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “Alright, Spence… you can open your eyes now.”

Spencer opened his eyes, nearly choking as he took in the sight in front of him. Y/N was standing there in a beautiful lingerie set, the bra designed so that it was a bow that he could untie to reveal her... Just like a present.

“Holly shit,” Spencer breathed, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the rare curse slipping from his lips. Spencer hardly ever swore, so hearing it from him spoke volumes about how much he liked what he saw.

"So I take it you like it?" Y/N arched a brow, resting her arms on his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Spencer stammered, looking up with wide eyes as Y/N climbed into his lap.

Y/N settled into his lap with a coy grin, reveling in the feeling of his hands coming up to grip her waist. She leaned in, brushing her nose lightly against his before softly grazing her lips across his.

"I wanted to show you my appreciation..." Y/N whispered, placing a brief but tender kiss on his lips before trailing kisses along his jawline. "...for giving me the best Christmas ever."

Spencer blinked hazily, her words taking a second to process in his mind as the sensation of her lips now sucking a mark into his skin became the center of his focus. His grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly as his fingers flexed against her warm skin. He swallowed hard before finally mustering up an answer.

"Y-you don't have to thank me, baby. All I ever want to do is make you the happiest you've ever been—"

Spencer's words came out as a squeak as she rocked her hips once against the erection now straining in his slacks. His head fell back onto the couch with a soft thump, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips at the friction. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, a fragrant haze that clouded his thoughts and left him feeling lightheaded, as if he were drowning in its sweetness.

The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, the sight of his dilated pupils stirring more in her than she was willing to admit. Y/N smirked, repeating the motion to hear the soft noise fall from his lips once more. She lifted a finger to his lips, shushing him before she moved to kneel between his legs.

"I want to, Spence. Please?"

Spencer nodded so vigorously it almost looked painful, his wide eyes locked on hers in stunned disbelief. He couldn't believe this was real... that he not only had her to begin with but that she was on her knees begging to make him feel good. The breath rushed from his body as her fingers trailed up his thighs to the button of his slacks, popping it open while she kept her hungry gaze on his.

His body trembled in anticipation as Y/N dragged the fabric down his legs, tugging them off once they reached his feet and casting them off to the side. He whined as she leaned forward to mouth over his aching cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, his fingers twitching from where they rested beside himself. His breath hitched in his throat as she dragged her nails down the inside of his thighs, a smug grin on her face as she watched him dig his nails into his palms.

Y/N decided she'd teased him enough, placing a kiss on his hipbone before swiftly removing his boxers. Spencer's hips lifted from the couch, jerking toward her mouth instinctively as she wasted no time in leaning forward to lick a thick stripe up the side of him before taking his swollen head between her lips.

"Oh—" Spencer gasped, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched her begin to swallow his length. "Oh my God, Y/N—"

Y/N smirked around her mouthful, taking him as far into her throat as she could before wrapping a hand around what couldn't fit. She began to bob her head slowly, easing him into the sensation. The feeling of him—hot and hard and filling her mouth so perfectly—had her squeezing her thighs together as she began to move more vigorously.

Spencer writhed beneath her as her mouth and hand began to work in tandem, his eyes fluttering shut despite his efforts to watch her every move so he could burn the sight into his memory for later use. His hips bucked up when she took him into the back of her throat, a guttural groan falling from his open mouth at the gag that emitted from her from the motion. His eyes shot open as he began spewing out apologies, but his words died in his throat as she pulled off of him to shake her head vehemently.

"Do it again," Y/N croaked, taking him back into her mouth and reaching up to guide his hands to her head.

Spencer whimpered pitifully, exhaling sharply before tentatively repeating the motion. His heart nearly fell out of his ass when Y/N moaned around him, encouraging him to keep going. His hips thrust rapidly into her mouth, his eyes squeezed shut now as moan after moan spilled from his lips.

"I-I'm close— sweetheart, please," Spencer groaned, lights flashing behind his eyes as she all but sucked the soul from his body. "Can I— Can I fuck you? Please? Wanna make you feel good, too."

Y/N moaned loudly around him at that, pulling off of him with a slick 'pop' before nodding vigorously. She was drenched, the sounds Spencer made having turned her on more than most men had in the past with their entire bodies. She hurriedly climbed into his lap, not even bothering to take her panties off and instead pulling the fabric to the side as she lined him up at her entrance.

They'd previously agreed that since they were both clean and she was on birth control they'd skip using a condom. They just never had the chance to actually get on with it... until now, anyway.

The sight of her swollen lips and watery eyes had Spencer captivated as his hands automatically found their home on her thighs, rubbing gently as she eased herself down onto him. If someone had told him six months ago that he'd ever be lucky enough to experience this—having the most beautiful woman he'd ever met as his, riding his cock like she was made for it—he would have laughed in their face. But now, all he could do was sit back and watch her in awe as she took every last inch of him into her core, speechless as he marveled at the sight. His brows pinched together as her walls enveloped him, his mouth gaping open as she bottomed out with a loud moan.

Y/N's head tipped back as a moan wrenched its way from her throat, her hips moving in small circles as she adjusted to the stretch of him inside of her pussy. She had never felt so desperate for someone before, but she wasn't surprised. It was Spencer—the man she admired more than anyone. The man who treated her like she was everything, simply for being herself. The man who reminded her every day that she was worth more than she’d ever believed.

Neither one of them was going to last long, a realization they both came to as she lifted her hips and dropped them down into his lap as she began to ride his cock. But that was okay. They had all night to make each other feel good.

“How does that feel, sweet boy? Hm?” Y/N panted, falling forward to rest her face in the crook of his neck as she rocked against him with frantic, needy movements.

All Spencer could do was whine loudly as he clung to her, planting his feet on the ground and moving his hands to cradle her back as he began to rut up into her. He was borderline delirious with pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him driving him mad with the need to make her fall apart in his arms. The movement served to drive him repeatedly into her G-spot, the both of them crying out and latching to each other as Y/N trembled above him.

"So good," Spencer finally grunted, moving his hands up to hastily unwrap the bow restricting his access to her breasts. His lips latched onto her right nipple, sucking and nibbling as his hand came up to pinch her neglected bud. "You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart." He mumbled against her skin, laving over the pert bud and groaning.

Y/N cried out, her hands tangling into his hair as she rode him harder. It was almost feral the way they moved together, needing each other in a way words couldn't describe. The couch creaked beneath their movements, but she couldn't care less. She only cared about making the man underneath her feel the best he ever had.

Her walls began to clench around him as she whimpered into his shoulder, signaling her impending climax. Spencer slid a hand down from her breast to instead rub at her clit, lifting his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. It only took a few circles of his skilled fingers before Y/N was chanting his name into his mouth like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut as she came hard around him. Spencer's orgasm was almost simultaneous with hers, the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock triggering his climax almost violently as he pumped into her with soft sobs.

Their chests heaved as they slumped against each other, caressing each other with gentle touches as they caught their breath. Once Y/N could sit up, she lifted off of his softening cock with trembling legs, a giggle spilling from her lips as he whined in discontent. She placed a lingering kiss on his lips, effectively shushing him before she stood from the couch to go get a rag.

When she came back, Spencer reached for her with needy hands, wanting to feel her against him once more. They tended to each other with soft murmurs of praise and gentle kisses, their love unspoken but evident in every touch and gesture. Once they were cleaned (and Spencer had all but shoved her toward the bathroom so she could pee to avoid getting a UTI), they stumbled into her bedroom and into her bed.

It was in Spencer's arms, as he drifted off to sleep, that Y/N finally understood just how special the holidays could be—made all the more meaningful by the sweet genius she was fortunate enough to call hers.

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[daechvvitas]

BOYFRIEND MATERIAL

how i think each member would be like as a boyfriend part one - hyung line edition

WARNINGS: mentions of daddy k ink, praise k ink, brat taming, d*ggystyle, oral, bee dee ess em, degradation

A/N: this is a mixture of sfw/nsfw. thanks for requesting, anon! minors, dni.

NAMJOON

He's the most self conscious about the songs he writes about you. You're his biggest source of inspiration, so that means he wants the lyrics to be perfect. It throws him off kilter because normally, he can write a song in one sitting. Even in an ER room. But when they're about you, it's different. He likes the challenge, though. He feels like it makes him a better writer.

He points out baby shoes and clothing to you every time you guys are at a store. He's still not sure if he wants to have a kid or not but he can't help but still find the items super fucking adorable.

He has a bit of a daddy k ink. He never thought he would been into it but the first time it slipped out of your mouth, his brain went to static and he fucked you harder than he'd ever done before.

He buys you books specifically curated to your taste. Even more, he buys himself a copy too so that he can keep up with what you like.

He talks you through sex. It's full of a lot of praise and encouragement. "Look how good you're taking me" and the sorts. He also loves hearing validation from you that it feels good and he's doing well.

He hates when the two of you argue but he physically cannot stop himself from having the last word. What can I say? The man likes to be right. And sometimes, that stubbornness can lead to huge blow outs. He always makes it up to you, though. After a cool-off period, he'll come back with calmer logic and won't rest until the situation is resolved.

SEOKJIN

He always makes you meals, even when his schedule is insane. If he has to wake up in the wee hours to have it cooked and waiting in the fridge for you, then so be it.

He's a brat tamer. And he's damn good at it. Even if you don't have a particularly submissive nature, he'll have you a whimpering, shaking mess by the end of the night. But those intense nights come with the best aftercare. He'll run you a bath, make you food, and give you a ton of cuddles.

He's insistent on doing things for you, even if it annoys you. Grabbing things from high places, opening doors... You name it. He just likes showing how much he cares about you through action.

He's the type to jokingly rile you up but then end up actually getting really mad, which leads to arguments that could have been avoided.

Unfortunately, he has a bit of the gamer boyfriend syndrome. He does not like being interrupted when he's playing his games. He is a sucker for you, though. So he's willing to free up one of his hands to give you the attention you so desperately want. And no, he doesn't plan on muting his mic so you better keep those moans quiet.

He takes personal offense if he's not your bias or if you rocking any BT21 character that isn't RJ. He'll definitely give you a playful but bombastic side eye until you either change or admit that he is the only option to be your bias.

YOONGI

He wouldn't consider himself a 'romantic' but he shows that he cares through quality time. Even if you're just in the living room watching a show, he'll always quietly sit next to you. Just so you know he's always there.

Alternatively, he loves when you do the same. His genius lab is a sacred place that even his members don't dare to enter unless it's for work. But for you? It's an open door policy. Your presence motivates him more than it distracts him.

Speaking of his studio, the two of you have definitely fucked there. Multiple times. The first time it happened was just sort of a spur of the moment type of things but now, you live to bend over for him, chest pressed against the knobs of his music equipment as he thrusts into you.

He shares his food with you without any complaints or annoyance. If he notices you want a taste of whatever he has, he immediately offers it to you. Not even just a bite, either. He'll give you the whole thing.

He likes taking his time with you. There's a lot of foreplay where the tongue technology comes in hand. He loves to lick you, taste you, make you fall apart with just his mouth.

He prefers dates at home over dates out of the house, but he'll indulge you if you really want a night out. However, his ideal night would be cooking you both dinner, plenty of whiskey, and of course, you.

HOSEOK

Prepare to be touched all the time. Not even just sexually (though we'll get to that). He's just a very touchy feely boyfriend. Cheek kisses, hugs from behind, gripping your thigh. He just wants to feel your skin against his.

He loves sharing tea with you. He remembers every single piece of gossip you tell him, even if he doesn't know the parties involved, and enthusiastically picks whatever side you're on. In return, he always keeps you updated on the drama and insanity of his members' lives. There's really no secrets between you both.

He's a dom, for sure. When it's just the two of you behind closed doors, he feels comfortable enough to strip back the sunshine side and get to play with the darker side of him without judgement. He also finds it so hot that you trust him enough to go on wilder extremes together — tying you up, blindfolding you, spanking you. He craves having control over you.

His favorite form of aftercare is giving you a massage. Typically, he has you folded up like a pretzel as he has his way with you. So making sure your body is taken care of afterwards is of utmost importance. As he massages you, he likes to sweetly shower you with compliments just so you know that any degradation that occurred during sex does not hold true in real life.

He's the first to like your social media posts. Yes, he has notifications on just to make sure he's the first. It could be a selfie or a random picture of the sky and he's the first on the post, showering you with emojis.

Sometimes, he needs personal space. You didn't do anything wrong. But when things get hard at work or overwhelming in his personal life, he has the tendency to retract instead of engage. He doesn't ever have the heart to tell you that but you can tell by the short answers or less enthused interactions. The best thing you can do is give him that space to work through his head.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 4

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: mental health-related stuff for yoongi (past), seokjin being meddlesome, um... smut! surprise, it's here. min yoongi #1 munch

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hmmm hi hello. this chapter gave me problems, so sorry for the wait, but i'm actually really pleased with how it ended up. also, i'm adding the songs that inspire my chapter titles to every chapter from here on out, and going back to edit them into previous chapters. hope u enjoy!

Chapter 4: Just The Way That We Are

Yoongi loves his friends.

Yoongi’s friends have saved his life more times than he can count, and they keep him social, and they make him feel loved, and he loves them back. That’s what he has to remind himself of, anyway. Because he kind of wants to kill them right now.

He may whine and complain about them, but he enjoys their standing monthly plans—wellness checks, Namjoon dubbed them—much more than he lets on. 

He knows himself, knows what he can be like sometimes. He knows that he spends more time in the studio than he does at home. He knows that when he gets sucked into working on a track he’s shit at taking care of himself. He likes to think that he’s better about it now. 

There was a time, though, not all that long ago, where it wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep on the ratty couch in his studio more days out of the week than his own bed. A time where he survived on massive cups of coffee and treated showers as rewards for figuring out why his songs were so fucking bad. A vicious cycle of bleeding nailbeds and uneaten cup ramen and the sound of a metronome making him want to bash his skull against his desk. A spiral.

A spiral that ended abruptly when Seokjin weaseled the door code for Yoongi’s studio out of Namjoon and found him sitting in the dark muttering at his computer screen, several pounds lighter than the last time Seokjin had seen him.

Seokjin was nice to Yoongi about it. He didn’t judge when he had to peel Yoongi out of his chair and force dinner into his mouth. Even when he had to sit in the bathroom with him as he showered, just in case Yoongi passed out. He didn’t make any jokes. That’s how Yoongi knew that he’d fucked up, back then. How he knew that he’d really scared Seokjin. Not one goddamn joke.

So, wellness checks were born. The seven of them gathering monthly, always at Yoongi’s apartment, to spend time together. Sometimes they eat dinner, sometimes they play video games. Most of the time they drink. Wellness checks, plus Seokjin popping in on random nights between to make Yoongi dinner, have kept Yoongi from spiraling for almost two years now.

So really, Yoongi does love his friends. They keep him afloat, hold him accountable.

They’re also annoying, nosy little motherfuckers that won’t stop hounding him about you.

It starts like this: Yoongi is minding his business, like always. 

He’s burrowed into the couch, watching an argument unfold between Jeongguk and Seokjin over who gets to play as Mario in Mario Kart. He’s been drinking from the huge bottle of whiskey you bought him all night, and he’s lost count of how many he’s had now. He’s really fucking focusing on this argument. Jeongguk and Seokjin both talk too fast, especially when they’re yelling at each other.

And even though aside from being drunk Yoongi is being completely fucking normal, Hoseok mistakes his silence for, like, contemplation or melancholy or something stupid like that, when really he’s just waiting for Jeongguk to win and get to play as Mario, like always.

“Hyung, you’re being quiet,” Hoseok says, and suddenly it feels like all eyes are on Yoongi. The only other person he could be talking about is Seokjin and Seokjin can very rarely be described as quiet. 

“He’s thinking about his lady love,” Seokjin says. Case in goddamn point. “His neighbor. She’s cute, but Yoongi-yah has no game.”

And really, fuck him. Seokjin may be one of Yoongi’s favorite people on the planet—he’s just drunk enough to acknowledge it—but that was just uncalled for. No game?

Yoongi has come to terms with the fact that he likes you, but it’s also really not that goddamn serious. He would be an idiot not to. You’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’re interesting. You have real aspirations and you’re going for them with everything you’ve got, so that makes you cool in his eyes. 

Sometimes you post songs you like on your Instagram story, and Yoongi doesn’t even really use Instagram that often, but when he checks it, it’s almost always a song he likes. And if it’s not, he listens to it when he has a few minutes, and he ends up liking it anyway. It makes him feel like… He doesn’t know. It’s nice. Kind of sexy, somehow.

He thought about kissing you that day in his apartment before Seokjin barged in and sent you flying across his kitchen. Fuck, he wanted a taste. But Yoongi can read a cue, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t have time for dating. 

So, yes. He likes you. But he also understands you, because he’s been you. Seokjin seems to be under the impression that Yoongi is stuck in some kind of dramatic unrequited love situation, because that is the way that Seokjin thinks love works, but he just met you. He’s happy to be your friend, if that’s what you want. That’s why he offered it in the first place. Yoongi respects your boundaries enough to listen to you the first time when you say you don’t date. Simple as that. Being your friend isn’t some kind of consolation prize to him.

Also, rewind—once again, no game? Yoongi is a master in the art of flirtation, thank you very much. What the hell does Seokjin know about having game? All he has is his stupid face and his height, Yoongi thinks bitterly. One day, his stupid face will become ugly, too, because that is the way of the world. Seokjin will have nothing, but Yoongi will still have his words.

He’s opening his mouth to say something to that effect, but of course, everybody has something to say after Seokjin’s betrayal.

“Hyung likes a girl? Since when?” Jimin asks. Yoongi presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeongguk chimes in. “She’s cute? Hyung, why does Seokjin-hyung know she’s cute? Why does he get to know everything first?”

“The one in the apartment down the hall, hyung?” Hoseok. Waggling his eyebrows like he knows more. Seokjin is going to die.

“She lives down the hall? Can we meet her?” Taehyung.

Morons, Yoongi thinks.

“You’re all crazy,” he complains, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel himself getting pink, the six pairs of eyes on him making him bristle. He ducks his head, sinking further into the couch. “Why do you want to meet my neighbor so bad? Quit being weird. No.” 

“Leave Yoongi-hyung alone,” Namjoon says, and see? That’s why Yoongi likes him! Very diplomatic, as per usual.

“Thank you, Joon-ah.”

“He can be a pussy all he wants.” 

Oh, okay!

Yoongi is going to strap Kim Namjoon to that mechanical bull with rope next time and then leave him for dead.

“Is that what they taught you in your gender studies course, Kim Namjoon?” Yoongi hisses, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, but before Namjoon can defend himself, Seokjin is speaking.

“You should invite her over, Yoongi-yah.” Yoongi hates how soft his voice sounds about it. Like he’s trying to be gentle with Yoongi’s feelings or something. 

He sighs, sitting up.

“It’s really not like that,” Yoongi insists, his frustration mounting as he rubs at his temples. “I’m sure you’re all going to meet her at some point, okay? Because we’re friends. But not tonight. Stop trying to be matchmakers. It’s pissing me off, and you’re all ass at it, anyway.”

That seems to be effective in shutting them down, but now Yoongi is faced with six guilt-laden expressions. He softens a bit. He’s being too harsh, he realizes. They barely said anything, and they mean well. He knows that.

“Look, I just met her, and we haven’t had many opportunities to hang out,” he says, more gently this time. “We’re both busy. I don’t know her that well yet, and I don’t want to overwhelm her with… meeting the family so early on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says. Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s fine. I just need all of you to drop it for now,” he says.

Everyone seems to agree. Even Seokjin, which is the biggest relief of all. 

He knows why Seokjin is trying to push this. Why they all are. 

When he told you he understood you, that he got it, he really meant it. He’s been fucked over before, more than once. Not for the same reasons as you, but he can imagine it probably hurts the same.

Relationships in general have never really been high up on Yoongi’s priority list to begin with. In his eyes, it can be nice when it happens, but he doesn’t reach for it. 

He’s done the casual sex thing, but he never needed it like some people claimed to. Yoongi can relate to feeling like a shaken up soda can ninety-nine percent of the time, but one night stands don’t do much to relieve the pressure for him. In the end, casual caused more problems for him than it solved, so he doesn’t do that anymore. Doesn’t really want to again. 

He’s done the relationship thing, too. That was better. The feeling of falling in love is… Well, he got lots of songs out of his last relationship, that’s for sure. He fell pretty hard, so hard that he didn’t even feel like himself. His friends were tickled. Min Yoongi, who gets so prickly about public displays of affection, kissing his girlfriend in the middle of a crowded street, just because! Not caring when it ended up online. Feeling proud, even. Putting that kind of trust into someone else made him feel so much lighter. Anyway, he got a lot of songs out of the breakup, too.

It’s been a long time since Yoongi has shown interest in anyone, even to a minute degree. He can’t blame his friends for wanting to play the six Bingleys to his Darcy, but he’s not going to push you, and he’s not going to put you in a room with his friends who are afraid hes going to die alone and let them try to push you either. If you decide you want him, he wants it to be real.

The rest of wellness check night goes by relatively smoothly, all things considered. Jeongguk does, in fact, end up playing as Mario despite Seokjin trying to play the hyung card over it. He also wins so much that Jimin’s eye starts twitching. All in all, it’s a pretty normal night.

Yoongi thinks that he’s successfully evaded further probing about you, until he finds Seokjin lingering by the door after the rest of them have filtered out.

“Yoongi-yah,” he says in that same soft tone from earlier.

“I don’t want to hear it, hyung.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to hear it anyway.” His voice is firm. 

Jeongguk may not fall victim to Seokjin’s hyung card easily, but Yoongi does. He always does. So he sighs, waving a hand for Seokjin to get on with it.

“Invite her to your studio.”

“What?” Yoongi asks, scoffing. His studio is sacred. “Why?”

“You said you don’t get to see her that often, but you don’t want to bring her around us yet,” Seokjin says, looking at Yoongi like he’s dumb. “She’s a writer. You can write anywhere, Yoongi-yah.”

“She has an office,” he says flatly, and Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes like Yoongi is being obtuse. 

“It’ll be like when we go fishing. We don’t really talk much, but the silence is nice. It’s still quality time. You can spend time together without taking time away from work for both of you.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but when Seokjin says it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. It could work, if you’re open to it… He thinks he remembers Namjoon going on about, like, children doing what Seokjin is proposing—parallel play, or whatever—but it could work.

“Maybe,” he says finally.

“No, it’s okay,” Seokjin says, grinning. “You can admit that I’m a genius. The world may think that it’s you, but I’m the real brains of this operation.”

“Go home, hyung,” Yoongi huffs, pushing Seokjin out the door. He shuts it behind him, hearing his hyung’s screechy laugh descending down the hall.

It’s not a bad idea.

★ ★ ★

You’re in Yoongi’s studio, and it feels like a very bad idea.

On your part, at least. It was actually unbelievably sweet, the way Yoongi proposed it. Which does not help your problem in the slightest.

It’s been several weeks since you’ve last seen him in person, all of your correspondence with him taking place over text. Busy, busy, you claim to be, and you have been, but you had been terrified Yoongi was going to start thinking you’ve been avoiding him. You also feel so, so guilty that he would’ve been right.

You just haven’t been able to figure out how to look him in the eye after… your recent thoughts about him. Thoughts that have been pervading your mind ever since you admitted to Rina that yes, you very much would like to find out what his cock would feel like inside of you.

You fully intended to continue avoiding seeing him in person until you could figure out either A) how to stop those thoughts entirely, or B) how to ask him if he would be down to clown in a completely casual, platonic manner. You’ve been coming up empty on both.

And then you saw that he’d texted you, looking at your phone right as the rest of your coworkers were filtering out of the office and you were hunkering down for another two hours minimum of work, and once again, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. Not when he always somehow seems to know the right things to say.

[5:57] Yoongi: If you get stuck while you’re writing tonight, you should come by the studio. Change of scenery might help. 

[5:58] Yoongi: Haven’t seen you in a while and I’ll be here late. Plus I’d bet good money that you haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m about to order some.

[6:00] Yoongi: Do you need any more incentive? My company should be enough. 

[6:10] Do I need to bribe you with those raps you keep bothering me about? I’ll show you 30 seconds of ONE.

You really hadn’t been ignoring him that time, and thankfully you were able to open them only ten minutes after his last text. He knows your texting habits well enough at this point to know that you either respond instantly or take forever, caught up in whatever it is you’re working on. It’s almost like he’s nervous you’ll say no, which is just… He’s cute. Whatever. You said yes.

The problem is, now you’re in his studio, sitting on his couch with your laptop perched on your thighs, picking at the remnants of the takeout he’d ordered, trying and failing miserably at focusing on your work. 

It was a lovely idea on his part to invite you to work in silence with him. It was so sweet. It’s not his fault that you can’t focus, that for the past thirty minutes all you’ve been doing is trying to figure out how to ask him to bend you over his desk. Because you’ve officially made your decision on that. 

You decided about ten minutes after you arrived, in fact. The thirty seconds of the rap he’d promised to play you made a strong argument (Seokjin wasn’t joking about college Yoongi being shameless) but you held your resolve to put the idea of having sex with Yoongi out of your mind. 

No, it wasn’t the filthy, explicit bars spat out in his gravelly voice that did you in. It was the sight of him sitting in his chair, noise-cancelling headphones on, tapping away at his midi. Surrounded by expensive equipment, plaques outlining achievements, a guitar hanging on the wall. There’s a coffee cup on his desk that you can only imagine has been sitting there since the morning. From where you're sitting, you can see him in profile: his eyes sharp and focused, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. Like he can do this all night. In his element.

In short, you find it sexy that he’s a workaholic just like you. You don’t want to think too hard about that at all.

He has one ear of his headphones shifted behind his ear in case you need him for something (also sexy), so you set the takeout and your laptop on the coffee table, clearing your throat.

“Yoongi,” you say softly.

He hums in response, his eyes still focused on the monitor in front of him.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

At that, he clicks a few more times on his computer before tearing himself away, taking off his headphones and turning his chair to face you.

“What’s up?”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up a little from where you’ve burrowed on the couch. This isn’t a big deal, you remind yourself. The worst he can say is that he wouldn’t be into it, and Yoongi hasn’t given you any indication that he’s a judgy guy.

“So, I told you that I don’t really have time to date,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think you’re insane for starting a conversation like that.

“You mentioned it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Right. So, that’s true,” you say, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater to give your hands something to do. “I don’t want to date anybody right now. But… I, um.” You look down at your hands in your lap. You’re losing steam, losing confidence. Is there a right way to do this? If there is, you’re sure you’re not doing it. But Yoongi is patient. He sits quietly, waiting for you to find the right words.

It takes you a second, your mounting anxiety causing you to change course in the middle of your sentences, but you finally get them out.

“You’re so… I like being your friend, a lot. And I don’t want that part of our relationship to change. But I was wondering if…” A breath. You need to spit it out. “I’m like, horribly attracted to you. And I was wondering if you’d want to do, like, a friends with benefits thing?”

You cringe at yourself. You’ve never done something like this before, and it shows. You’re completely prepared for Yoongi to laugh and say no, to go back to his work. But when you look up, your breath catches in your throat. 

Yoongi’s eyes are so, so dark. You don’t know what to make of the way he’s looking at you. It’s not the same look he gave you the night you met, when you were both harmlessly flirting. The way he looked at you in his kitchen is closer, but it’s still not the same. There’s something else there, something you don’t recognize. He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice as low as you’ve ever heard it. Serious. 

You shiver, but you nod and soldier on.

“I don’t want you to think it’s weird that I want that,” you say, standing your ground. “But yes. That’s what I want.”

Yoongi is unmoving, maybe taking a moment to consider your offer, and you can’t take it. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest. He needs to stop fucking looking at you like that.

Finally, he speaks. “It’s not weird,” he says. Nothing else. You wait, tortuous seconds passing by, expecting some kind of verdict, a yes or no, but it never comes. You break.

“Yoongi...” He hums. “...Do you want to fuck me?”

You watch as Yoongi licks his lips, his eyes raking over you shamelessly. Apparently that was the right thing to ask.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.” 

The air in his studio thickens, just like that. Fuck. You feel like you’re going to die before he gets the chance.

“Show me,” you breathe.

Yoongi assesses you for just a moment longer before standing from his desk chair, crossing the small space of his studio to sit beside you on the couch. His body is turned towards you, so you turn in kind, swallowing thickly.

He reaches to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the process. His touch leaves a trail of heat over your skin, making you gasp, closing your eyes. There’s no alcohol warming you this time, making your head feel fuzzy, not right now. It’s just Yoongi, maybe it’s just been Yoongi the whole time, making you feel so affected by so little.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he says. Your eyes snap open, a protest at the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch. “Not tonight. Let’s start with something easy, baby.”

Baby.

“Easy?” you breathe. You’re half-convinced you’ll go along with anything he says. Take anything he sees fit to give you. He hasn’t even done anything. You’re screwed. 

He nudges his nose against yours, his hand sliding down from your hair to cup your jaw, the other rubbing gentle circles into your hip. “Easy,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, the sensation stealing all of the breath from your lungs. 

Yoongi’s kiss is slow and exploring, unhurried, thorough, like he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece and he intends on using it. You feel yourself whimper against his lips, your hands coming up to fist in his shirt, as if you can’t get him close enough.

His tongue teases at the seam of your lips. They part easily for him, and fuck, kissing has never felt like this before, made your whole body burn. You’re no virgin, for fuck’s sake. You and your ex had plenty of sex, and it was even good, but if just kissing Min Yoongi feels like this, you’re not prepared for what it’ll be like when he fucks you. Maybe he’s right to start with something easy.

Apparently, though, Yoongi has other plans.

He pulls back from the kiss, squeezing your hip. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll still take care of you,” he says, trailing heated kisses from your jaw down to your neck. “You want me to?”

“Yes,” you pant, uncaring of how desperate you must sound. It’s all out in the open now, no use in hiding it.

Yoongi chuckles as his hands find the hem of your sweater, sliding under it to feel your feverish skin. “Stop me whenever,” he murmurs against your neck, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your bra.

When you don’t reply, his fingers expertly locate a nipple through the fabric, pinching it lightly, and you breathe out a gasped ‘okay.’ He hums, pleased, his mouth claiming yours again as he continues to run his hands over your body.

You only break the kiss when one of his hands pauses at the waistband of your pants, but it sure as hell isn’t to stop him.

“Touch me,” you encourage, your forehead pressed against his. 

Yoongi wastes no time, and you watch as his hand disappears under the fabric, thanking your lucky stars for dress pants with elastic waistbands. His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your panties to slip through your folds, and you both groan when he finds you drenched.

“Fuck,” he hisses, running his fingers up and down your slit slowly. “You’re soaked, baby. How long were you sitting here thinking about me fucking you?”

“Pretty much the whole time,” you admit weakly, your hips jolting when he circles your clit, a shaky moan falling from your lips.

His hand retreats from your pants, and before you can react, he’s rising from the couch, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his foot and sinking to his knees in front of you.

“I’ve gotta taste you,” he says, his expression almost pained as he tugs at your pants. “Can I?”

Who the fuck are you to say no to that?

You nod your consent eagerly, lifting your hips up so he can pull your pants and underwear off all in one go. Once you’re bare from the waist down, Yoongi slides his hands up your calves, positioning your legs so they’re spread wide, your feet planted on the couch on either side of you.

The way he looks at you then, almost worshipful, his jaw slack and pupils blown as he stares at your core... He looks almost as wrecked as you feel.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then he’s surging forward, his tongue flattening to lick a broad stripe over your pussy.

“Yoongi,” you moan, your head falling back against the cushion behind you as your hands fly forward to tangle in his hair. Encouraged, he licks into you over and over, like he’s trying to devour you, his nose grinding against your clit as he works his jaw. “Fuck!”

Yoongi pulls back and you force yourself to lift your head, moaning at the sight of your slick all over the lower half of his face.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he groans, trailing two fingers through your folds again to tease at your entrance. “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimper, and he grins, his fingers sinking into your pussy with little resistance. He curls them up, searching for the spot that will make your vision go white. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching, and he leans forward again to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking at it.

It’s all too much, so fucking good you think you might die if he keeps going. Shit, you’ll die if he stops, too. He better not fucking stop.

“D-don’t stop,” you whimper, and he hums against your clit, making your eyes roll back as his fingers quicken into a steady, relentless pace.

It becomes clear he has no plans to stop, to tease, that he wants to push you over the edge just as much as you want to fall.

He uses his free hand to nudge your thigh, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. The other follows suit, and before long, you’re practically squeezing his head between the plushness of your thighs, your moans coming out unbidden.

With one particularly hard suck to your clit, you’re gasping for breath, your eyes squeezing shut. All of the tension in your body snaps at once and your hips push into his touch, grinding against his fingers and his tongue as your orgasm washes over you in waves.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl, your hips moving of their own accord as you ride out the high, your skin buzzing with heat.

Yoongi’s fingers slow their pace but he doesn’t stop, milking your release for all it’s worth until you’re pushing his head away weakly, trying to catch your breath.

Finally, he relents, sitting back on his heels, his breaths just as labored as yours. He withdraws his fingers, sucking them into his mouth to lick your release off of them.

“Holy shit,” you pant, running your hands over your face, and Yoongi laughs.

“Good?” he teases, and you nod, slumping back against the couch. Good feels like an understatement, and you can tell he knows that. You can only imagine the reason for that slightly smug look on his face is from the sheer speed with which he made you come. You’d be embarrassed about it if he didn’t look so turned on, his eyes running over your body like he’s deciding whether he wants to go for seconds.

After a moment, he moves to stand up, wincing at the tension in his knees. Your eyes zero in on his cock straining against the material of his sweatpants instantly, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Fuck, you want that. You want it so bad. Why won’t he give it to you? Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not tonight, Y/N,” he says, and you make a pitiful noise. Why he wants to deny himself a blowjob is beyond you.

He slips his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants (right in front of you, the tease) to give himself a placating squeeze and adjust himself. “Next time,” he promises, bending at the waist to cup your cheek and kiss you again. 

You taste yourself on his lips, pulling him further by the front of his shirt. He lets you, bracing a hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady. “You sure?” you breathe between hot, needy kisses. He groans and you think, for a moment, that you might be able to persuade him to change his mind. But then he’s pulling away again, and you whine.

“Next time,” he repeats, grasping your wrist and gently removing your hand from his shirt so he can stand up straight. He looks at his watch. “I doubt anyone is still here, so I’m gonna go get some stuff to clean us both up.” You nod, relenting. 

You laugh softly as he adjusts his erection again, at the way he huffs when he can’t get it to look any less obvious. He flips you off at the sound of your laughter, but you can tell there’s no heat behind it. 

Once he gives up, he dips his head out the door to check for anyone who could be lingering out there, then retreats from his studio into the hallway. You hear the whir of his door lock as he secures it behind him, ensuring that no one will walk in on you in this state, and then you’re alone.

Sated as you are, the reality of what just happened sinks in quickly. Yoongi ate you out in his place of business. Insane! But to your surprise, it doesn’t feel as major as you were worried it would. Your heart swells at the idea that all of the confidence and trust you had in Yoongi to be upfront with you wasn’t misplaced, that he really is okay with this arrangement. It’s too early to tell, but it already feels like things will stay the same between the two of you. 

With the added benefit of sex. Insanely good sex, if what you just experienced is anything to go by. You’re already thinking of the next time that he promised.

You make a mental note to send Rina a fruit basket or something in Paris. She deserves it.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @butterymin

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[luciawithoutj]

Hey hi hello!

I have some things to say about new merch and jo merch in general so this is gonna be a litrle longer post and actually I think I should cange my semiotics theme (which is already about jo) about how bad their merch design is.

First of all little disclaimer: this is all my humble opionion based on what I learned in my one year of being graphic design student and an artist and designer on the internet for last 4-5 years. Before going to uni I learned most of about art and graphic design stuff by reading books and watching tons of yt videos. Second of all this critic is just coming from place of love for this band because I see so mucb potential and they could do some amazing merch designs if they give it a chance and I am fully aware how expensive the touring is and why they had to cut the quality of merch products.

So far my favorite jo band merch designs are cds (that probably required some designer to make), condoms (because they are really funny, genius, nicely designed and unique merch that fit the vibe of the band and matches their songs as well) and the new tshirt from last merch drop (which design is made by one slovenian fanartist : link.

Main reason that made me want to speak up is seeing that this merch drop will only have 100 products (my friend said that could mean 20-ish shirts per size) which how big this fandom has gotten in last year is pretty really dam limited. For a limited product I am really disappointed and I hoped for more. For such a limited product that design is the most default design they could have gone for and I am so sorry for Damon because his work is goregous, amazing, breathtaking and I could talk about it for ages and how inspiring it is but this shirt design isn't serving.

If they wanted to do bare minimum of design with those 5 images here is some of my ideas (unfortunately I don't have time to visually show them to yall on a mock ups because of finals that I should be studying for instead of writing this so try to imagine what I am trying to say and demonstrate). First is just simple instead of white choose black shirt or even better a thisrt. If you want it to go a stepp further is using their name logo font (font name is Avaline btw if anyone wants to download and use it for their designs :))) and either put it how they did when they promoted the everybody's waiting or to write idk therapy sessions or anything related to the band or it can even be some inside joke.

Something like this would make design just a bit more intersting but still bare minimum but amazing for regular merch. If they want to go a step further but want to keep the long sleeves (this idea was suggested by few people I talked too) they could put pictures vertically on the sleeves. I would find it a bit cooler if it is on the right sleeve out-side and then they put their band logo (the heart one) on the left side of the shirt where people's hearts normally are.

After exams I would definitely like to try to make some designs and just limit myself with this 5 pictures and play with typography and photoshoop to make something interesting.

Another I want to mentioned is how in my humble opinion if you are gonna sell limited edition either make it really pretty or good quality or really cursed and funny with inside jokes.

I think people (and me first) would eat tshirts (but also other merch designs) with some cursed designs or just texts that say "sparklative" or "slay pose" or "I feel SloveNACE" (this 3 were suggested by amazing people in tumblr discord server) or even let Jan photoshoop their faces on most random picture. This 5 guys with their gen z humour could make and do some hilarious merch like how amazing idea the condoms are.

Last thing I want to say is how many amazingly talented fans are. I mean even Damon was so shocked and moved by amount of talent and art made in this community. Furthermore I know (some of them as online friends and mutuals, others as just artists from same fandom) who are also either graphic design students or they work in art/graphic design/entertainment fields and some of them (including myself) would be so happy to even make few merch designs or art for them for freee or for a ticket for their show. Personally I would die from happiness if I get a chance to work with my favorite band that inspires me so much everyday to the point people at my uni think I am from Slovenia and know slovenian because of how much I include them in my uni work and how much fanart and designs I made because of them in last 6 months.

I just think there is so much potential guys might not be aware of (Idk honestly because who knows what is going on backstage in their lives). But yeah they could have even asked Damon to help them with composition of the pictures on that shirt or even hire Racik to make some pretty art or any fanartist honestly. Here is just few links of my favorite fanartists who also do a lot of graphic design related stuff (and also some of them sell their products on their own websites/redbubble/etsy/inprint/etc) :

Tia <3

Roxanne

Vic

jo.kam_ (previously mentioned her design)

Lemon

yelecx

Racik (ofc)

There is probably more but my brain for hell of it won't remember any names so feel free to add in the comments or tags more artists <3

I could probably go more in depth and give more ideas how to improve merch designs the cheapest and best way as possible but still trying to keep the quality good as it needs to be. I know there is still gonna be people fighting for this shirts and people are still gonna buy their merch but just it hurts my art/designer soul seeing this bad designs when there is so much potential and they have amazing fans and amazing crew and they work with so many talnted people and they themselves are so talented and their music inspired so many and so much.

Thanks everyone for coming to my TedTalk. <3

Actually now I am thinking and from just talking about jo work from design and semiotics perspective for that semiotics seminar I could just focus on their merch design and go more in detail about it and if yall want when it is done and I translate it in english I could share it here for people who want to read about it. Let me know I guess.

Also if someone is interested my art and design insta is lucia.without.j and my redbubble is lucia-without-j and my dms are always open if someone wants to chat or complain about anything art, design, joker out or any other fandom I am in related.

P. S. I am so sorry for any spelling mistakes and if what I said doesn't make sense. English isn't my first language.

[low-budget-korra]

Comments on Pirates of the Caribbean

So, I rewatch the first one after years bc I was sick by the Johnny Depp bullshit and through his presence would ruin the movie for me, thankfully, it didn't.

- Why don't they make blockbusters like this anymore? The scale of the production, everything feels so real, so damn good. They only used CGI when they needed it.

-Now I noticed that Elizabeth, Will and Jack have "friendship" matching scars, as all the three of them have a long cut on the palm of their hand.

-When Barbossa is about to cut Elizabeth, thinking her blood is the one they needed, instead of cutting her throat (something that was expected of him) he just cut her hand and when even Elizabeth looked confused at him, he says "waste not"

At first I thought that he was being nice, like there's no need to kill her, and this being a Disney movie really makes me think that. But now I get it, he wasn't being nice, he was being a nightmare as he only didn't kill her bc he was planning on SA her as soon as the curse was off. That's dark.

And it's weirdly nice to see how their relationship goes from this nightmare, to Barbossa not only actually respecting and acknowledge Elizabeth as one of them, but also with Elizabeth asking him to marry her with Will. It's like they became buddies at the end, almost lol

-People often praise only Johnny Depp for the success of the trilogy, and yes, he was good I got to admit but he wasn't the sole reason of the movies success. The proof of that is that after Worlds End, the movies went down in quality and will not pretend that the writing and production didn't go down either but the thing is that the characters also were not near as charming, charismatic and just as good as Elizabeth, Will, Barbossa, Davy Jones the crew guys...Jack Sparrow is good but he needs good company to truly shine. And the chemistry they all had towards each other plays a big part in the trilogy success. Jack Sparrow is amazing, but only when he isn't the protagonist.

Edit 1: I've saw the second and third ones again today and damn Hans Zimmer was inspired, the Davy Jones theme is the Best villain theme song (sorry Darth Vader)

At world's end, who also is the Will and Elizabeth theme(with some minor changes) is so good. It's not only good, it's a masterpiece. One of my fav original movie songs ever.

-Elizabeth arc is so well done. From damsel in distress, to pirate, to pirate queen. And it was natural, didn't feel forced at all. Even when she was damsel in distress, she wasn't helpless. In the first movie, after the ship battle, she launched herself at Barbossa , to punch in bc she thought Will was gone. She was always fierce.

And now in the second and third movie when she already knew how to fight...she became a menace.

-And Elizabeth lost her dad, her friend and the love of her life in like, just a few days. Damn. And all of the men she kissed, died lol. Jack, Norrington, Sao Feng and Will, and they all die right after kissing her. I bet she has some sort of "black widow" reputation among the sailors

-Jack really cared for both Elizabeth and Will, and we can see it in the scene when he told Elizabeth that her father was gone and when Davy Jones killed Will. And it makes sense cuz Jack was important in their journey from day one, and he saw their growth from naive young adults to pirates.

-Without a doubt, one of the best trilogies we have.

[transformersbrainrot]

MegOp is making me crazy as usual, but now I have some new, specific inspiration!

So it started with @that-fanperson-meg saying this under a post I made about the Transformers account posting a TFO MegOp edit.

I recognized the name of the song but had never actually listened to it, and hooooo boy, it activated something in the part of my brain that thinks about MegOp... So, I'm listening to this song, and I have the clearest vision that it's about Megatron's mindset/thoughts during his mental health's lowest point in the worst depths of the war. (fair warning, my analysis/brainrot is based on my own personal continuity/au, so there are some minor references to that, but it's all fairly standard, and I explain it a bit, so just go with it, and you shouldn't be confused.) Ok, preamble over. Time for the lyrical analysis:

I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late

Megatron assumes that Optimus is in just as bad of a place as he is. He's wrong, of course, OP certainly isn't enjoying himself, but he has an actual support system that he feels comfortable leaning on. On the other hand, Soundwave is the only thing even approaching a friend for Megatron (and he is waaay too closed off at this point to admit it). Starscream is a backstabbing, power-hungry sycophant with his own heap of baggage (I really gotta make a post about my version of all that sometime); Shockwave is purely logic-driven as usual, only interested in advancing the Cybertronian race via the Decepticon cause. By this time, Megatron feels like both sides are too deep into the war to even consider peace. He honestly can't fathom it.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again in my life

Megatron has always wanted to escape the path that was decided for him. But now, after losing what he and Orion had and the resulting fallout, he won't go quietly into the night, not before causing some irreparable damage first. And the war will do just that. He hopes the destruction the great war causes keeps pushing him forward, even out beyond Cybertron. At least then, he won't ever need to face the past and who he used to be. He couldn't recognize himself now if he tried, so he doesn't even try.

I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die

Even though it's clear to him that they hate each other and are not good for each other, Megatron still has some form of loyalty to what he and Orion had. If somehow, someday, someone were to ask him about them, he wouldn’t tell them about all their problems, but instead that they were good together. Maybe if this hypothetical future version of Megatron doesn't mention all the pain their split caused, then maybe it was a little less real. He knows that as long as Optimus is around, he won't be able to stop fighting; he's just too hurt and angry. He wishes Optimus would just die, that they both would.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

Soundwave, the only even semi-positive influence on him right now, is the one telling Megatron it's darkest before the sun rises. Soundwave is a true believer in the original cause of the Decepticons, probably the last one in High Command; everyone else is either using the cause as a means to take out their pain (Megatron and Starscream) or as a means to an end (Shockwave). Megatron is finding it harder and harder to believe Soundwave with each passing day, and yet again assumes Optimus is doing the same. He's starting to hope it never ends. He's comfortable with it now; the war fills the hole that his old life left in him. All he really knows is that he can't bring himself to yield to Optimus and doesn't think he ever will. If he did, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way

Megatron is hoping that Optimus is suffering too, since he is, and doesn’t want him to feel anything positive through this since he cannot. But at the same time, he’s trying so hard to be a bastard so that it won’t hurt as much. He does still want to speak well of their past if he gets the chance, so some loyalty or fondness remains deep down. If there were good times to look back on, there would be sadness that those times are over. If Optimus has nothing good to say about him, all he would feel is relief that that part of their lives is over.

I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Megatron can't see any way out of where he's gotten them. To him, there's no path to peace anymore. The only solace Megatron can find is the hope that Optimus falls with him. Even now, the two of their fates must be interlocked, as if it were a universal constant to him - simple common sense. He just wants it to be over, even as he can't bring himself to stop.

[kaledya]

Exactly ! This is why I use the three-boss phases fight metaphor and I think this is almost an obligation because both Constantine and Lolicia are a mess with emotions but not in the same way... ah ! I can't wait ! But its not for now !

_

Good to know! I'm happy you like the idea. It will help the character grow but it will come also later. I think it will be in the middle of the second boss phases slowburn of Constantine and Lolicia... I think end of season 2 or 3 ? Because Serenity come in season 2 ! Will see but its in the back of my head for sure 🌸

_

I like the idea of Constantine and Serenity bounding over something the others (the most important people for them) don't know about. Like a well cared secret.

And i know it can be tricky to do with only the point of vue I have right now BUT ! (Héhé) BUT between the episode 3 and 4 I will make a special editions of short stories that happened meanwhile episode 1 and 2 and some of the past of characters who are not main like (Azrael, Abaddon (my OC), the Vees, the pets, Constantine, Serenity and Eve/Roo)  it will help open new horizons ! Because its a collection of short stories it will help me to well prepared the episode 4  and dont rush things ! We love nice developped characters! And some songs some musical perhaps and inspiration from your animatics!

_

I'm not made for games but I saw a playthroughs with a bard its great. My favorite character are female Drow cause Drow lore is amazing ! Ah ! Love it.

Don't worry for what Gale said ! He said a lot of things anyways !

_

I'm so very excited to see all the drawings en scenes en everything you will draw about the fanfic!! But exams first. Me and my fanfic will go nowhere, I'm patient and I'm not expecting you to do anything at first, I'm just enjoying when you say you will.

But. Exams. First. Exams have a due date not me. Ahah.

And dont worry, writing is literally my air and passion. My rhythm is exactly as I like and I actually don't look at the numbers but I'm happy people read it. A bunch of faithful readers is always nice to have even if its not plenty. Don't worry for anything !

_

Also the meal I've been served !! I made it ! I made the Constantine/Serenity/Lolicia drawings ! 🌸 I was just like, "i need to do this". I really hope I didn't screw it because I always struggle with colors in general and I didn't want to destroy the faces of your OCs. I was looking at the references like crazy

"This is the shape of his horns ? Okay. Is it yellow, green, red ? So about the tail... OMG LONG HAIR" that was me. Ahah.

I hope the picture is nice quality enough, its not tell me and I will make another or larger or something. I didn't put my watermark cause its yours, you can do what you like with it!

_

Thank you ! Will write well !🌸🌸🌸 _

Ahah ! I'm happy you like Narrator ! I didn't expect you do ! He's just t so... so him ahah. But I love him too. But he is insane. I have a short story with him and Constantine and they talk about anatomy and names. It will be funny ! I'm just so excited to see the drawings you will have with him ! And yes the Kilij, ah ! Turks peoples have so many beautiful weapons with jewelry on it its just *kiss* perfect !  And Narrator loves jewellery so I was like "it's an opportunity !"

_

I'm glad you liked the songs !!! Ah your comments are always worth it.

The editing of the song with Charlie and Alastor made me want to die but I liked writing it ! I will enjoy seeing the scene you will draw of them! And the Precious was a must !

_

And yes Vittorio and Alastor's shadow are kind of the undertone of every conversation Lolicia and Alastor have with each others. If they fight its because the tone of the conversation is a bit sarcastic,if they're are calm, everything is more normal !

_

YES SERENITY CAMEO ! Oh I loved write when she took her coat and hat ! Hopefully I remember you draw her Misfortune/Overlord outfit! And the little vignette in your storyboard too. I saw it in my mind !

_

Lolicia isn't really an Overlord, I mean she is very strong but she doesn't want the title. But don't worry, I've already make up something for her to come at the meeting with Overlords !

Thank you very much ! And I think you are a talented artist (the new design of Eve/Roo is SLAY!) with nice eye for the lights effects and storytelling through characters and little scenes, that make my mind boiled so thank you, it doesn't arrive often 🌸

I can already see that it will definitely be worth the wait😌

--

I'm already so excited to see how you plan the themes for the seasons!

--

I'm so glad to hear this, I seriously can't wait to see the short stories! And I'm so excited to meet Abaddon.And certainly the more developed the characters are, the better.

I read Serenity's short story and they were beautiful.I think you handled their encounter with Alastor beautifully, I really liked it.And the detail that Alastor was more egoist and bloodthirsty during his prime time in hell was also very nice!

I seriously think the short stories are a great idea, can't wait to see more!

------

And yes, it was definitely great to play drow. And I seriously think the background of the drows is very interesting and beautiful.In terms of gameplay, you start with a lot of prejudice as every race hates them rather than other races, But on the other hand, there is no need to fight in some places because the enemy thinks you are one of them.

And yes, my dear nuclear bomb wizard who smells like an old library talks too much, it is impossible to memorizeal of his dialogues.

---

Thank you for your patience!

I have now passed the 1st exam, now I need to pass the real boss, the ART exam and I'm really bad at on paper /realistic drawing but with enough work everything can happen! But If I lose my entrance to the animation university,then I will have to restart my career as a villain. Lmao

Today is my day off, so I'll be making a lot of doodles, get ready for new fanart!

And if you ask me, you really deserve more, you are a very talented writer!

---

Destroy face my OC's what????

You drew him so beautifully that when I looked at Constantine I said, "damnnn, you drew him so handsomely!" Seriously, the drawings of all the characters were very nice and I think he used colors well.

And don't worry, I can't draw Constantine's horns properly either, so I made up an excuse ✨he's a shapeshifter✨In other words, the shape of his horns can change according to its whim.

Serenity and Lolicia were so cute

And Constantine and Lolicia looked so cool! I can't wait to see their interactions!

And I love how you draw Lolicia's clothes, they're true fashion icon.

Thank you so much for blessing my eyes with your drawings!

---

And of course, I will love him ! 1 he's character created by you 2 I always have a special corner in my heart for crazy showmens. And yes! When Charlie told the Narrator that they had known each other for almost 200 years, I realized that there was a long history between them.I can't wait to see his interactions with Constantine!

And yes, old Turk's weapons are perfect for him. I saw similar swords and guns when I visited a museum.They were full of jewels, inch by inch. I'm not exactly sure, but I think they were gifts for the sultan or things he had made for himself. Apart from them, I saw a really huge sword. I would like to see the soldier who could lift it. It looked like the sword that in Berserk that used by Guts.

--

And seriously that song was amazing, a complete masterpiece! If only I could make music, I would bring that song to life! And the descriptions, everything was great!

And the overall scene was so fun to read!

---

And I can't wait to see Lolicia's role already, it's so exciting!

-

And thank you so much for your kind words, and I'm so glad you love the Roo/eve design!❤️❤️❤️

----------

First of all, Charlie and Vaggie's part was very sweet and beautiful, and the song you wrote was also great. I really loved it!

----

Lolica's song was a masterpiece, I really think it was a very well written and detailed song. Lolicia's outfit and Vittori accompanying her was really perfect! And I think having Alastor help her disguise was a really nice touch! It was a great choice that the song was inspired by liquid gold.

(I Love lackdaisy so much)

In short, I think the song is perfect and it fits the character very well. 10/10 *chef Kiss*

--

The part where the team reacted when they won the semi-final was so beautiful! And finally an arc is over!

And Serenity's story was very nice and the encounter with Alastor at the end was interesting, but the most important thing is that Alastor is after Lolicia. I wonder how those events ended?

---

To make a long story short, every chapter you have made is really great and I enjoy reading it very much. I think you are a great writer. I am very excited to see your future works!❤️❤️❤️

[divine-crows]

Grimoire/Bos Prompts or Research Topics for the Witch that Doesn’t Know What To Do Next

(Pt. 1/ ?) 

Okay so, I've been working on gathering information for a couple of years now. (On and off for 4 years probably a little less because I procrastinate), and just now I've gotten an official book to put all of my information in since prior to that I just had loose leafs of paper that I'd stash away at random, and google docs filled with information (which I recommend. It helped me let go of the stress of messing up and helps when you need to edit and add information. I still use my doc as a way to add stuff and as an on-the-go grimoire).

I've practically stuffed this grimoire with everything I've gathered and refined, and this has lead me to reach an impasse where I don't quite know what to do next. Not a lot of BoS or Grimoire prompts are geared towards people that have the basics written down, but don’t know what to do next, so I'll make a short list of stuff I've brainstormed.

Note: These prompts aren't all going to be specific things to do research on, a lot of it is inspired by Molly Roberts on YouTube because I love prompts and ideas that may not be necessarily witchy, but can be when in the context of where it is. These prompts and research topics also are not mine by any means and I’ll reiterate it often because I want people to make these ideas their own. 

- What being a witch means to you. This can include why you decided to use witch as a label for yourself, your specific practice, why you got into it, how it affects your life and it's importance, etc.

- how your religion (or if non-religious, any of your beliefs or theories you support) works alongside your craft. Do you feel a need to separate the two? Do you treat them like they're always together? Are there any specific scenarios where you use the two hand-in-hand? Talk about it.

- Entity and/or spirit Guide! Make a section dedicated to entities and spirits in your area, how you (or others) found them, if you think you know what/who they are, or if you aren't sure what it could be. This can open up great opportunities for you to study new things. I myself have been planning on doing it since my town has a lot of ghosts, and I've had plenty of interactions with entities that I don't know of (ex. some seem like the fair folk, but due to the origins of people that lived in my town it's unlikely, or they have one trait that reminds me of an entity I know of but the rest of their traits are nothing like it).

- energy/magic map. This can be used in multiple ways! Map out the energy and vibes you feel when you're in other places, or map out the energy you felt during a spell/ritual, or maybe even there's a song that just speaks to you and you want to show the flow of energy the song makes you feel. How you show this flow is up to you and your experience! Maybe you have synesthesia and you want to explore how that mixes with your experience with the flow of energy in music ( or just in general) go for it!

- any personal ideas or concepts. This might be candle etiquette, or maybe you personally don't say the name of certain entities or deities for specific reasons. Maybe there's something you do that you don't see a lot of people mention in media. Write it down! You never know when you'll come across something and go "...wait a minute" and then you can flip through your Grimoire/BoS and go "oh! Right, that's just a personal belief/uncommon concept so that might be why it isn't in here." Now. This does not mean stealing from other cultures and claiming you believed in it all along. And it doesn't mean disrespecting any basic rules of etiquette.

- if there's items you see and you have an inexplicable pull to, document it! Talk about the energies they had. What they were and looked like. If you bought it or not. This can help you in the future when it comes to incorporating items. Sometimes I find out that an item I bought because its "vibes were interesting" can actually be repurposed and I always feel proud afterwards because my intuition knew all along.

- do certain places or situations make you feel a little bit more magical than you usually do? Make a list of those places (and if you want to add a description of them!) Sometimes when I'm not feeling 100% with my craft just visiting those places makes me feel better.

- Information about where you’re from or where you currently live, and how this place applies to your practice. I’ve seen at least one or two people do this with their grimoire’s and it’s a great idea. It doesn’t have to be an extensive history either, for me, I just focused on the state I live in and I added basic information that I felt belonged there. I also included some common folklore of the area.  

- - - 

I'll add on more as I brainstorm them. These ideas and concepts are not mine and a lot have probably been done already. Have fun with them! Reblog with more ideas (I'll definitely reblog ones with ideas I like)

[atelierlili]

Poisoning Pigeons in the Park

The title is inspired by the song with the same name by Tom Leher.

This is just a silly medieval/fantasy/dnd-kinda inspired Everlark Oneshot AU. It came to me in the daze when my kitten woke me up at 4 am. It's barely edited, but i'm just happy I actually wrote something and finished it. Lmao.

Snippet:

"Could have done us all a favour and put her on stage first," I grunt, glaring at him as he hands me my drink back. "Your wailing could land you a cozy job in the gallows. Heard Snow's been trying to find new ways to torture people. I could even put in a good word for you." 

The bard laughs, "I think so too. But my girl is stage shy so I do what I can to make her comfortable." 

A pair of travellers walks into the tavern. Wouldn’t raise much of a fuss if it weren’t for the wailing of the out of tune lute that the boy was strumming. Did the fella smash someone over the head with that thing or something? Boy must be deaf ‘cause he’s chippier than a squirrel. 

The Lass following behind him who doesn't seem to mind the noise. She’s dressed in all black, like a shadow, and carries a bow that hangs off her arm. Poor thing looks like his bodyguard. She looks good though. Small. Thin. No breasts to comment about, but there’s a hint of a tight ass there. Maybe I can convince her for some time away from this bellend she’s traveling with. I got some coin. 

I take a sip of my ale and let the booze warm my blood. A couple more glasses of these and maybe I can tune out the Lad’s annoying lute plucking. Maybe if I’m lucky someone will punch the daylights out of him. 

“Big crowd tonight! First time in the 12. And you do look like a dreary lot. I think it’s a great time for a song, don’t cha think?” 

I frown and look into the stage. Ah bugger. The bard with the detuned lute is on stage now. Who's bright idea was to give this guy an audience? 

Despite asking the crowd, the idiot begins to sing. And dammnit all, this fucking blows. I’ve heard of strangled cats that sound better than this bloke. He’s more out of tune than the fucking lute. 

All the world seems in tune On a spring afternoon When we're poisoning pigeons in the park Every Sunday you'll see My sweetheart and me As we poison the pigeons in the park

Then, over the strangled tunes of this botched siren comes out a wailing "Oh brother, this guy stinks! Get him outta here!" 

I join in on the booing. I even chortle when someone throws a full mug of ale at the bard. The Lad takes it all in good humour and bursts out into laughter. 

"What an encore!" he laughs, ducking as someone hurts a wooden fork his way. "We got one more song for tonight and - woah, good throw! - but I'll let my good friend take the stage!" 

The bard turns to his female friend, holding out his lute to her. The lass is fighting the grin on her face as she takes the lute from him and kicks him off stage. She's a pretty thing, so once she sits down, the tavern riles down. 

She teases us too. Carefully plucking and tuning the lute until it rings just right when she strums. 

Are you, are you comin' to the tree? Where they strung up a man, they say, who murdered three Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

Oh. She's got a voice on her. Better than anyone I've heard around these parts. I can tell I'm not the only one to think so cause the folks around me stop and stare. And judging by the staring, I got some competition if I want to get some time with that Lass tonight. 

"Quite the songbird, isn't she?" I jump, nearly dropping my cup as the Bard slides into the seat next to me. He takes the opportunity to swipe my drink from me and take a sip. "Doesn't believe me when I tell her that the gods are envious of that pretty voice of hers." 

"Could have done us all a favour and put her on stage first," I grunt, glaring at him as he hands me my drink back. "Your wailing could land you a cozy job in the gallows. Heard Snow's been trying to find new ways to torture people. I could even put in a good word for you." 

The bard laughs, "I think so too. But my girl is stage shy so I do what I can to make her comfortable." 

I grunt and take a big chug of my ale, annoyed but not surprised at the revelation. What the Lass sees in this loser is beyond me. She could use a real man to tell her how things work. 

"Besides, this is only a side thing for us. A cover up." 

I got a brow and wet my tongue. The ale is thick and sweet on my tongue. It gives me a pleasant buzz. "So what do you do?" 

"You'll find out soon enough, Cray." 

I open my mouth to argue, but I find myself suddenly feeling sluggish. Like my arms and legs are made of lead. My tongue feels larger than it should, large enough to me to choke on it. 

My face hits the table with a thud. I can feel the cool liquid of the ale spill onto the table. Before everything goes dark, I can hear the low out of tune humming from beside me. 

Every Sunday you'll see My sweetheart and me As we poison the pigeons in the park…

"I can't believe you left me there in the tavern to fend for myself." 

I laugh at Katniss as she scowls at me, arms crossed, hip jutting out, and a foot taping furiously. 

"But you had such a big encore- a sincere one too!  I couldn't bear to ruin your spotlight to help me carry this guy out." I prove my point by kicking the Peacekeeper's shoe. He grunts and tips over like a log. 

I know I'm forgiven because Katniss reaches out and curls into my side, wrapping her arms around me. On instinct I bend down to press a small kiss against the side of her head. 

"This is the guy, right?" 

I sense Katniss looking over my shoulder and glare. She's told me stories in the quiet of the night, of what her mother did for her and her little sister Prim. What she gave up so her girls could eat. She told me of the man that preyed on her mother until there was nothing left. 

Katniss nods. 

I peel myself off of Katniss, and rummage through the Peacekeeper's pockets. There I find what we're looking for. A gold key. I hand it to Katniss, who takes it without a word. 

"Think we'll be able to find where they took Prim with this?" Katniss asks me in a small voice. 

I don't know, but I have to be strong for her. I need to give her a little hope. I give her hand a squeeze. "It's our best bet so far." 

Katniss sighs. "Well, now what are we going to do with the body?" 

[gascon-en-exil]

AO3 Wrapped (Writers' Edition)

Found a list for this here, and following in the vein of a mutual on another platform I thought I'd go ahead and answer all the ones that I can to commemorate my first year as an actual fic author.

1. How many words have you written this year?

209,263...on AO3, anyway. I'm not counting my blog or YouTube scripts for any of this.

2. How many works did you publish this year?

6

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Hard to pick. What Burns Between Us kicked everything off and has been the blueprint for all the stories that have followed, but I think I might actually like To Make as Much of Vices as Virtues a bit more. I somehow wrangled an even longer fic laden with flashbacks and relatively dark content out of two NPCs who don't even have official art. Also, because of this fic I can say that I've written the only Papp/Roque smut currently on AO3.

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

What Burns Between Us

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

To Make as Much of Vices as Virtues, because it's as mentioned such a tiny pairing. A lot of those comments came from just two people, but still.

6. Favorite title you used

Children Believe What We Tell Them is such an ironic twist on a classic film line (in translation, anyway). Given the subject matter of that fic I was tempted to go for a more familiar reference to Disney's Beauty and the Beast, but Cocteau worked a lot better for me in the end.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I don't, but I do pull titles and original/incidental character names from literary sources: Wilde, Whitman, Chopin, Faulkner, and even Freud among others.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Osvald/Partitio, a.k.a. the first of the many ships I've had that managed to inspire me to write fic. I'm still not entirely sure how that happened.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

It's either them or Papp/Roque, and while I had to fill in more substantial gaps in canon to flesh out the old man yaoi I do think I'm going to have to say Osvitio again for this one.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Through the Long Moonlit Night, which I rushed out in roughly ten days to get it done in time for Halloween. That was on me for getting inspired to write a monster fic with less than two weeks to go for it to be timely.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

To Make as Much of Vices as Virtues was around three months total, and it also took more initial planning compared to What Burns Between Us which largely follows the motions of canon.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

Oof, I don't even want to think about it. Eight or ten, at least...including a couple of non-Octopath ideas.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

To Make as Much of Vices as Virtues, at over 77K words.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

Polymorphous Perversity, at just over 6K and my first actual oneshot.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

I do have both a short Papp/Roque piece as well as my first stab at Temenos/Crick (with Osvitio) in the works that I may or may not finish before the end of the year. The big one in the planning stages currently though involves Osvald trading places with himself in a different universe to explore weird new facets of his character...and also to make Partitio cry some more, because that's what I do.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Alternate Universe, unsurprisingly. My first fic establishes a partial AU running alongside but still distinct from canon Octopath Traveler II, and all the rest follow it in one way or another.

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

Roque Brilliante, because he's such a humorously terrible person and yet isn't hard to wring pathos out of either because at the end of the day he's a sad old queen who got dumped on so much he decided not to have any morals. He absolutely doesn't deserve the happy ending that the game gives him, and I've kept it that way by never writing a proper redemption arc either...but he has a husband and son who love him in spite of his many, many flaws so he gets that ending anyway.

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Osvald Vanstein, especially for his PoV segment of Wooing That Drifting Imagery. Canon doesn't offer much in the way of post-revenge flaws for him, so coming up with some that both matched his in-game character as well as the time period while also maintaining his relentlessly analytical voice was quite the challenge. I've gotten feedback on how off-putting Osvald's "benevolent" sexism comes across that I have ideas for how to tease at in future fics, so that's good. Additionally, I've received two comments calling my Osvald autistic/autistic-coded which...I guess? That definitely wasn't my intention or even anything I was thinking about. Canon Osvald is coldly rational to a fault and struggles with expressing himself even when he's saving the day with magic laser beams made of the Power of Love, so I just ran with that. (Him having a colossal dick on the other hand is purely for the comedic value.)

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

I've already mentioned that I want to try out Temenos/Crick for at least one fic. Hikari/Agnea may show up in some of my projects as a background element too. Aside from that, more of the same - although I've always thinking of strange new ways to explore those ships.

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I reread my fics a lot, but proportional to their length I think I've looked back on Wooing That Drifting Imagery the most. It takes a lot of risks on the conceptual level: Partitio in full drag getting some kind of partial gender euphoria, Osvald's PoV, the kinky sex scene that goes sour, the prominence of my OCs.

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

148

22. Which work has the most comments?

What Burns Between Us, both in quantity and in number of unique commenters.

23-25.

All regarding collaborations and gifts, N/A

26. What’s your most common category?

Does this mean fandom category? Octopath Traveler II is currently my only category then. That may or may not change next year...although if I do get pestered into writing Fire Emblem fic it's probably not going to be exactly what anyone expects.

27. What do you listen to while writing?

Nothing specific; I'm not a very musically-oriented person. That's the main reason I don't do the whole Spotify Wrapped thing.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

Probably Wooing That Drifting Imagery, because of the risk-taking and all the New Orleans references I got to slip in.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Hard to pick. Possibly the ending of Chapter 5 of Wooing That Drifting Imagery:

Stepping forward, Partitio places his arms around Osvald’s neck and leans gingerly against the man’s shoulder, careful not to smudge the powder on his face. “What are you doing?” His hands are on Partitio’s waist, but he seems unsure. “Only…seein’ what it feels like to hug my husband.” Above him, Osvald’s breath catches. He wonders if they’re feeling the same thing. Partitio closes his eyes and inhales deeply. There are memories of sweat and dirt and darkness and the shame of need, of clinging to a muzzled prisoner with fire in his eyes and heart for protection from the unrelenting elements and the cruelty of man. Those memories are set aside – not wholly out of sight, but off in a corner. In their place emerges not one of Shrevelin’s fabrications, but something else both new and strangely familiar. There’s Osvald and his solid, gentlemanly warmth, and the faint fragrance of springtime that enfolds them, and the layers of fabric that separate them solely as a matter of modesty and not of the scorn of the world. Perhaps, when it’s only the two of them in this moment – which will fade like sunlight vanishing behind the trees into dusk, but linger still in the mind – he can be she. Osvald is her husband. She is his wife. “I’m ready.” Osvald takes up his hat and his cane, and offers his arm. Together, they stroll into the New Delsta sunset.

I liked writing this subtle transition where Partitio "sets aside" the memories of the start of his relationship with Osvald, internalizes the Mrs. Vanstein role to match how he's currently dressed as a society wife, and starts using feminine pronouns for himself...even if it's dropped several sentences into the next chapter out of anxiety over being in public. This is also the first time that Partitio refers to Osvald as his husband, when both of them had rejected marital labels for each other in the previous fic specifically because they're firmly stuck in the heteronormative mindset that they can't marry because Partitio isn't a woman. Well, now he sort of is.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

That I wrote fic at all? If not that, then how well my fics have been received in this corner of an already small fandom. I love getting to read comments and bookmark notes and so forth saying how much people like my writing even though I'm still technically an amateur.

[anticidic]

Trick or treat, pls

You have managed to brave my house of horrors and thwart the evil which lurks in my spooky maze, and thus you have reached the end. But what will you receive? Will it be a trick, or a treat? I will let my bag of goodies decide your fate! 👻

This is quite fun! The fic I'll be talking about is letters to my chosen one (warning: E) because this one still holds a tender place in my heart and I think about it every now and then. (and you're also familiar with it, so that helps)

The angel/demon AU I came up with after using a wheel picker to decide my fate (much like it decided yours here) because I couldn't decide on an idea to write next. BUT the overarching plot, themes, chapter names, and fic title all come from a rather odd source.

A mixup of various songs, but the predominant theme is that I picked from FFXIV. I'm about to show my nerd knowledge now.

death of the heavens — this is a mechanic from the ultimate raid, Dragonsong's Reprise in FFXIV. A bunch of dragons divebombing while twisters are going off and the Knights of the Round, aka Thordan's henchmen, are casting their own things <- this isn't very relevant, but it's where I got that name from.

chosen one/one with the true divine — taken from the song, One Amongst the Weary <- spoilers for Endwalker expansion

And the overarching angst with a happy ending of letters to my chosen one is based off of Dragonsong from the Heavensward expansion. I liked the subplot of Hraesvelgr and Shiva falling in love, only to be torn apart by Hraesvelgr's broodsibling Nidhogg and his hatred of humans, and I incorporated inspiration from that here. 👀

Dazai painfully sheds his wings when he steps into Chuuya's home and that's when he immediately knew something was off. He wouldn't have that kind of reaction around a human. It was something terrible, and his hunch was right. But even as Chuuya burns his hands again and again touching Dazai's wings and trying to clean up the feathers and blood spilled everywhere, there's no animosity, just apathy. He pities Dazai because Dazai is the blind one who agreed to become Chuuya's guardian angel without even asking the High Court, why him? Why a lowly historian? Dazai does not question his elders nor their beliefs and it leads him to his demise.

"Two souls intertwined, one true love they did find," keeps making me think of angel!Dazai and demon!Chuuya because Dazai had been assigned to Chuuya as his guardian angel, and even after discovering Chuuya had actually been a demon, that did not tear them apart. Only the mortal world tore them apart when it was time for Dazai to return to heaven, while Chuuya remained stuck on earth because he had fallen far and a long time ago that he couldn't even begin to remember the last time he had wings, but on earth he's free and not bound by expectations.

ask box trick-or-treat (fic writer edition)

[cerridwen007]

The Two of Us.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Third part to the Javi x f!reader situationship series. Follows the morning after reader and Javi fuck after being apart for a month. Reader lays out all her feelings on the table hoping Javier will too.

Inspired by the song "The Two of Us" by Omar Apollo.

Warnings/Notes: ANGST, FLUFF, Swearing, no use of y/n, bad Spanish.

A/N: It's finally here, the third part of the trilogy. I am pretty happy with how it turned out and am so thankful for all the feedback and love I've gotten on the series. This is the first series I've managed to complete and has definitely motivated me to finish and write more series. I was thinking of maybe adding some smut in here as well but decided to add a whole bunch of tooth rotting fluff instead. Also, I have an idea for an angsty prologue of the lead up to "She" that I might post in the next week or so once I finish writing and editing it, which I plan on having smut return in that. As always, comments, likes, and reposts are very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 1: She. Part 2: Her.

***********

Sunlight flutters through your curtains as you wake. You smile to yourself as you remember the warm passions of last night. The smile quickly fades when you realize Javier isn't in your bed. A tear threatens to escape the corner of your eye, but you don't let it. You weren't going to cry over a man this morning.

The threat of tears instantly disappears, when you walk into your kitchen and see Javier standing there shirtless making breakfast and coffee for you both. Your heart instantly melts and begins to flutter at the rare sight of domestic Javi before you. Before you even realize what you're doing, you come up behind him and hug his back tightly.

"Mmmh, good morning handsome." You coo while holding him closely.

He leans back into your touch and holds your hands in his.

"Good morning, mi amor....sleep well?"

"Great, thank you...and yourself?"

"The best sleep I've had in a while, actually."

You smile and plant soft kisses on his back, making Javier chuckle.

"Careful Hermosa, I might end up burning our breakfast if you carry on like that."

You giggle. "That wouldn't be the worst thing ever."

You both laugh, and he turns around to hug you and kiss your forehead. He holds you close and turns back around to stir the scrambled eggs. You hold each other close till Javier finishes cooking, and you help him bring your plates and glasses to the table.

You're both all smiles as you eat your breakfast till a sudden realization hits you. Is this just you doing what you had before, fuckbuddies and nothing more?

A tear wells at the corner of your eye as you look at the man before you, as much as you love your physical, sexual relationship you still wanted and needed more for him.

You wanted to be his forever and wanted him to be yours too. His eyebrows squeeze together as he looks at your thinly drawn mouth and watery eyes.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

As much as you try to stop the tears from escaping a single tear falls down your cheek. He reaches up to you and wipes it away gently with his hand, cupping your jaw.

"I.....I.. want you, Javier."

"Cariño... you have me. Here, right now."

"I meant I want you....I want this... I want us...forever... more than what we were before."

He looks uncomfortable as he clears his throat.

"And I know that you probably don't want that, but I don't think we can continue whatever this is, if you don't feel the same way.....I can't let myself fall in love with you more and more everyday...knowing that you won't ever love me back."

His mind becomes clouded with all the aspects of being in a relationship with you. Waking up to your beautiful smiling face every morning, kissing down your body, coercing those beautiful sounds out of you every night. Maybe even one day settling down on his dad's ranch with you, little Peñas running around.

But then his slight smile slips off his face when he thought about you two fighting, everyday when he comes home from work, him accidently taking his anger from his job home to you and the narcos finding where you lived and murdering you because of him.

He couldn't seem to form a proper sentence with all the thoughts getting mixed up in his head. You reached out and placed your hand on his across the table, rubbing it comfortingly.

"Javi, look at me."

He looks up at you, with those big, brown, baby cow eyes, making your heart melt.

"Tell me what you're thinking.”

His throat closes preventing all the words from spilling out.

“Tell me…do you..do you love me Javier?” You say, voice breaking.

His heart thunders away in his chest as his mouth goes dry. Another tear falls down your cheek, you bite your lip to stop it from quivering.

“I…I… love you, querida.”

Your heart skips a beat. Confusion and anger fill your veins, unconvinced of his admission.

“Don’t say that you love me if you don't Javi…Don’t fucken play with my feelings so you can keep fucking me!” You spit at him, getting up to leave the table.

He looks at you distraught. He gets up and grabs your wrist firmly.

You angrily stare at him as you try to pull away from his grip but he doesn't let go. He pulls you closer to him and firmly grabs your jaw with his other hand so you will look at him.

“Look at me Hermosa.”

He swallows deeply, while his eyes dart back and forth across your face. His voice trembles a little as he speaks, so unused to admitting his feelings. You bite your tongue to hold back the angry, sad tears that blur your vision.

“I- the reason that I didn't say I loved you back before was because I was afraid.”

Your expression softens his words.

“I have never loved anyone since Lorraine who I left at the altar and looking back I don't even know how much I loved her …..I left though cause I was afraid and I'm still afraid…for different reasons this time.”

He pauses a second to see your saddened expression focused on his lips.

“I'm afraid that you will get sick of me and leave me…I'm afraid that once you see all of me, the flaws and all you will hate me. I'm afraid that I won’t be a good partner, won't give you enough attention or love and that you will grow to hate me. I’m afraid that my job will get in between us, that I'll take my stress and anger out on you, that the narcos will hurt you to get to me….. I’m afraid that I'll lose you.”

He feels his eyes start to water, and to hide his vulnerable state, he lets go of his hold on you and turns away. Your heart begins to physically hurt seeing Javier hurt in front of you.

“Hey.” you softly tell him. “ I can't say that won’t ever lose me, cause we both know that’s not true, but I know that I'll still love you even with all your flaws and that I won't get sick of you.”

He turns around and looks into your eyes as you continue speaking.

“You’re a good man Javier, more than you know or think, I know you always do your best but I also know that you're too hard on yourself, that you beat yourself up too much over things out of your control.”

You close the gap between the two of you and hold his hand gently.

“Being in a relationship is hard - for anyone, and I'm sure that we could make it work by both putting in effort and talking to each other about what we need and want.”

You take a deep breat and close you eyes for a second, feeling the last of your anger dissipate.

“I can’t promise you that you won't lose me in one way or another, but I can promise that I'll love you for as long as I live. And I would rather spend a short life in your arms than a long life without you.”

He gulps hard and looks at you. You slowly pull him into a hug and rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He shakily exhales as he wraps his arms around you and lets his head fall onto the top of your head, breathing in your hair.

You hold each other close, swaying softly and relishing in the warmth of each other. Before Javier breaks the silence, speaking softly.

“I really do love you. Mi amor, I love you more than you will ever know.”

You lift your head to look at him and plant a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, Javier. I'm yours forever.”

You both smile softly before kissing each other gently. The comforting taste of each swapped onto your own tongues. Your hands holding each other tightly, almost afraid to let go.

You don't know what was to come from here but you were just happy to be in his arms. It was the start of a new chapter for you and Javi. One where you would get to experience him wholly, just as you needed to.

************

[canisonicscrewyou]

Hi ignore that I haven't been working on the prologue so I can start editing+posting The Fobwatch Fic. Anyways this fic scene possessed me at like 2 AM the other night and I needed to. Get it out of my system. And now you get to see too. This follows not-terribly-long after this scene actually. (Only other one posted)

Context to get here: Rory's watch opening, processing, the Master failing badly at kidnapping Amy, returning her back, and an argument that had ensued between the Doctor(11) and the Master.

Timeline context: Rory/Darvill!Master regenerated from Missy. Timeline fuckery.

"Anyways, now that we're over that." The Master presses a button on his TARDIS console. "Maybe it's time for something more familiar."

Music plays over the speakers.

Oh-oh-oh-ohhhhh-

"Wait-" The Master bangs on the console in his frustration, and the song starts to skip.

Rah rah-ah-ah-ah-a-ah

Gaga ohh-la— -la

Thud. "— that's not right-"

Caughzz—

- Want your—

Bad Romance.

"That isn't- oh- oh yeah, right, sorry - last chick was on the aux-"

Ooh-la-la

Want your-

Last chick? The Master had been holding Amy hostage... Kind of. The Doctor glanced at her, and she looks at him. "I was in here for all of forty minutes, I wouldn't even know how to put it on-" she starts, and there's a moment before the Doctor catches up and turns to follow the Master with a look of knowing delight on his face.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, wait a second, last who?"

Love love love I want your—

The Master rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on Doctor. I feel like that was very clear. Last girl round. My darling little sister, trying her best..."

Amy's brow knits, and she speaks up to direct a question to the Master, who was... stewing. "Sorry- Can you guys change that much?"

His face scrunches, and he pulls himself out of it."We can change much more than you think, Amy."

I want it bad your bad romance—

"Last time around I was a very cunty Scotswoman and I wish I could say I took inspiration."

There's a moment where he tries to skip, or stop, or something, but it kept going. So he did the next best thing- smack the column of the console with a loud, dull thud from the glass. And a sharp, quiet hiss from the Master when he winces and grabs the offending hand.

I want your - bad bad bad bad-ad —

oh-oh-oh-oh—

After a moment, the Master turns to the Doctor and points. "Don't go getting any ideas copying me next time around."

Bad Romance finally stops.

The Doctor suddenly turned serious about the whole thing. Right. Next time around. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Master to know that. Or Amy... "Master, the thing- about next time-"

The Master got closer, and prodded the Doctor's shoulder with a finger. "Don't worry about that too much, I wasn't talking to you right then. That was for later." The other song starts.* And with that finger poke, the Master makes a dramatic motion, as if he pushed himself away from the Doctor with great force as he circled his TARDIS console away from them both to check another monitor.

*Most Likely: Mamma Mia, Under Attack, or Istanbul(Not Constantinople). It will probably be mentioned again in a manner similar to Bad Romance once I decide. Yippeee.

Insert A Song Beat

"Did you seriously do that on purpose?" Amy asks, looking around the TARDIS for the exact source of the music, and then back at the Master. He still wasn't as far off from the sad drowned cat look earlier as he thought, looking up at her.

"Oh, Amy, there's on thing you should've picked up on by now: I'm dramatic." He winks at her. "You have to be, to keep up with him." He tilts his chin to the Doctor, and his attention returns to a monitor as it makes a beeping noise.

"... Anyways, Doctor, you can start running now." He says.

The Doctor hesitates. "... What do you mean?"

The Master continues to look on idly. "I mean that I happened to- to take- Amy to buy time. And to bother you. Oh, I know it bothered you. Probably even more than the whole Rory-Oopsie."

If the Doctor didn't want to believe he didn't have A Plan, he'd find A Plan.

"I knew you'd come back to Leadworth as soon as I did. Gave me enough time."

"... Time for what..?"

"Oh, to use that little trip-alarm you left for me to download the psychic data I needed from yourr TARDIS. To my TARDIS." The Master looked up with a big self-pleased smile to the Doctor's serious furrowed brow.

"Doon't worryy! I only took what I needed. C'mon, what's a little hacking among girls? Buut, I'll tell you this," he pushes a big square button, and the door to his ship opens.

"If you start running now, you'll get to your TARDIS with enough time to stop me from getting access to try 'n send her into orbit from here— ah,ah,ah,ah-" the Master tuts and pushes the monitor away from the other two, and braced himself against the Doctor when he tried to rush at his console with a shout, "- don't bother, Doctor, the controls are isomorphic," a lie, "you know me," he said into the Doctor's ear. "But I would run."

That felt. Good. That felt familiar.

The Doctor was already backing up. The Master didn't let go, right away, his hands following the other even as he left the embrace in unexpected panic.

"Amy, run!" The Doctor shouts, and runs.

"Amy, you can stay!" The Master shouts immediately in turn, turning to Amy with an open hand out.

And Amy hesitates, mouth open and eyes wide as she stares at the Master(at Rory's eyes), before following the Doctor out at a sprint. [cont]

[gayashelljatp]

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle. 

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction. 

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air. 

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving. 

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why. 

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own. 

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed. 

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell. 

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring. 

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away. 

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed. 

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right? 

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world. 

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense. 

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes. 

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease. 

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,” 

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,” 

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!” 

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,” 

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.” 

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time," 

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself,  (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl. 

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes. 

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot. 

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” 

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.)   Request go here on my tumblr.

[starberry-cupcake]

Serpentin Vert (aka The Dragon Husband) won my fairy tale poll, so here's more about him

Serpentin Vert is both a character and the title of a fairy tale by Madame d'Aulnoy, published for the first time in 1698.

Even though the name is closer to "serpent" and some illustrators have depicted him as such, d'Aulnoy's description of him is closer to a dragon than a snake, and his size is big enough to have allowed him to physically carry his bride to safety.

Here is an English translation of the description by James Robinson Planché:

He has green wings, a body of a thousand colours, ivory claws, fiery eyes, and on his head is a bristling mane of long hair.

This is him rescuing his soon-to-be bride in an illustration from the Garnier edition, circa 1850 (my favorite one of him):

Serpentin Vert (translated by Planché as Green Serpent and in Spanish by Editorial Siruela as Serpentino Verde) is a fairy tale in the category know as "The Animal as Bridegroom" (Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index's ATU 425).

Some of these, and this one is no exception, work with Cupid and Psyche as a foundation (the most popular being Beauty and the Beast), but d'Aulnoy's style doesn't just use it as reference, she includes it in the story, as a tale the lead character reads and, much like Psyche or even Orpheus, still does what she shouldn't.

The lead of the story is Laideronnette, a princess cursed by a fairy to become the ugliest person alive, while her twin sister doesn't get said curse. She exiles herself after her family treats her poorly and meets Serpentin, who falls in love with her but she rejects him, since she's afraid of him. When he talks to her without her seeing him, she distrusts him, because she doesn't believe a king would fall in love with her, but starts having feelings for the person she spends so much time talking to. Their marriage is the halfway point of the story, because it's through Laideronnette breaking her promise (much like Psyche) that she will have to face many challenges to save the dragon she has fallen in love with. Of course, like most Animal Bridegroom stories, Serpentin is actually a cursed man.

Like most fairy tales written by the salonnières, this is a very long story, that takes twists and turns, has the characters move through different settings and gets in there a couple of songs and poems. If you're more used to the Perrault-like or even Grimm-like fairy tales, you may not be too familiar with the way in which salonnières told fairy tales, but these stories, born for the entertainment from women to other women in salons, are not always devoid of lessons but are more focused on the storytelling aspect and take a lot more pages to tell the story, describe surroundings and have the characters express their turmoil to the reader (or listener, originally).

Serpentin is always gentle and caring, although able to drop an "I told you so" when he feels it's warranted. Differently from Villeneuve's Beast (or Beaumont's even), he's more eloquent throughout the story and more active as well. There is a mutual saving between him and Laideronnette and her tasks to save Serpentin come after realizing she's in love with him, which makes their relationship dynamic a longer element to develop.

The fact that they're both cursed by the same fairy also generates an interesting dynamic in which both are at the mercy of a same enemy and can bond through the isolation caused by their self-imposed exiles. Of course, this being a classic fairy tale, she doesn't remain "ugly" and he doesn't remain a dragon.

The story isn't devoid of problematic stereotypes, these were French women in the 1600s, but most of the elements included trace back to the typical inspirations for d'Aulnoy: Greek mythology, opera and the folklore shared by midwives and nurses that accompanied women through motherhood. I talked a bit more about d'Aulnoy on this post, she was wild.

Now, to some more illustrations of the man of the hour:

This one is from Harriet Mead Olcott (1919), who went more snake-like but kept the wings.

Another one from the Garnier edition, it didn't stay very consistent on the size of him.

This is a part of the engraving made by Jean-Louis Delignon over this original by Clemént-Pierre Marillier (1785):

Maria Pascual played a bit more with Laideronnette's features, but it's more evident when she's beside her sister.

And a very recent depiction came from Natalie Frank in 2017 for Jack Zipes's compilation of d'Aulnoy stories titled The Island of Happiness, I think this is after Laideronnette was already transformed and changed her name into Discrète.

Serpentin Vert is actually the first of the fairy tales I included in my virtual workshop that starts next month (in Spanish). I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that it won the poll because of a) the nature of this site and b) the fact that d'Aulnoy would vibe with the discourse on here if she was around. You can find the original fairy tale in French here, the Planché English translation here and the Lawrence and Bullen translation here. For the Spanish version I had to translate it myself for the workshop, but there is a good translation in Siruela's edition of El cuarto de las hadas.