#also he does express once that he thinks they have an obligation to learn which i can appreciate

[marley-manson]

for some reason a while ago i had the impression that hawkeye speaks korean like once ever and only to demonstrate that he sucks at it, but he actually speaks korean just as much as any other american on the show and more than some, which is to say the occasional phrase here and there lol

like he's probably about on par with margaret and radar (averaging out radar's 'can speak korean fine' and 'can't speak korean at all' scenes lol)

#mash #hawkeye mash #also he does express once that he thinks they have an obligation to learn which i can appreciate #wish the writers did better with that but at least we get a few scenes where he tries #more observations from vidding lol

[rubynationwins]

Wanna Be Yours

Sugar baby! Bucky Barnes x Plus size! Reader

Summary: You don’t have a problem letting Bucky see other people, but Bucky wants to tell you that you’re all he needs.

Main Masterlist

Warnings: angst, fluff, pining, jealous! bucky, dirty talk/thoughts, swearing, Bucky is in his mid-late 20s

Word Count: 2,816

A/N: I’m very excited to be posting a fic, I feel like it’s been forever since I last posted one! I’ve had this in my wips for quite a while now, but didn’t work on it because I felt guilty for not posting my other fics that are sequels/parts of series first. But those are still far from being done(I’ve kinda also been struggling w/ writing them oof), so I shifted gears and edited this one & feel very pleased w/ how it came out! I love this concept, and I hope you all are into this pairing/dynamic because it’s a little different than my others. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

You don’t keep Bucky – or James, as you call him – on a very short leash. You don’t want him to feel tied down when he’s at such a pivotal age for young, virile men like himself. He should be able to explore and enjoy his youth with partners he doesn’t feel obligated to be with. This isn’t your first sugar relationship, so you’re plenty aware that young men don’t want to only be with you; which is something you learned the hard way. It’s better to let them live their lives with predetermined rules instead of getting cheated on by men who don’t have the balls to tell you they need more than you have to offer.

So, with Bucky, you made your expectations clear from the start. He can sleep with whoever he wants as long as he’s safe, uses protection, gets checked regularly, and always puts you first; and in turn, you give him whatever he desires. Lucky for you, he has stuck to your rules and made good on his promise to be by your side when you need him. Honesty, communication, and companionship, that’s all you really need, nothing more. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

------------------------------------------------

“James-”

Bucky spins around from the mirror he was checking his hair in and sucks in a breath. You are standing in the doorway of the bathroom with a playful smirk on your painted red lips.

“If you keep messing with your hair it’s going to fall out,” you give him a once over, “You look beautiful, darling.” And he does. He is absolutely stunning in his navy suit, a simple dark grey turtleneck underneath with a gold chain loose around his neck. It’s the one you bought him for your 6-month anniversary last month. Technically, you paid for the entire outfit he’s currently donning, but you personally picked out the chain yourself. It matches the slim bracelet that’s dangling around your wrist.

Bucky blushes lightly under your sharp gaze. He doesn’t know why, but a flutter erupts in his belly every time you compliment him. He never gets so worked up when others flatter him, only you.

“Right back at ya’ doll,” he flashes a wolfish smile, “you sure we have to go to this event? How ‘bout instead I get you out of that dress and we head to the bedroom because I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna keep my hands off you in that thing.”

Not too long ago you would have thought he was all talk, but Bucky has proven just how much he adores your body – curves and all. You can’t help but agree with his statement anyway, you look absolutely banging in your elegant Theia gown. The deep fuchsia color complements your complexion perfectly and the way it hugs your curves is like sin. The side slit stops just at mid-thigh and the off-the-shoulder straps mean your neckline is on full display. The way his eyes flash as they take it all in sends heat straight to your core, but unfortunately, you’re on a time crunch.

“As tempting as your offer is, James, I can’t miss this one. It’s a company celebration, and as the newest member of the board, it’s vital that I be there.” You gently grasp his hand and lean into the warmth of his large, muscled body, placing a modest peck on his cheek, “But since you’re going to be with me, I know the night will fly by. Before you know it, we’ll be back here and you can help me with this damn zipper.” You chuckle, winking playfully before walking away to grab your clutch resting on the table a few feet away.

Bucky’s pupils are like black saucers as he stares longingly at your ass as you bend over to slip on your shoes. As much as he wants to ignore your words and shove you up against the nearest wall and fuck you in that delectable dress, he knows that your work life is important to you, so he restrains himself – for now.

“Alright, doll.” He holds his arm out for you to take and you wrap yours around it, feeling the hard metal underneath the fabric of his suit jacket. “As long as you promise to help me out of my pants as well.”

You gasp and hit his shoulder playfully, “James!”

He shoots you a shit-eating grin and walks to the door with you hanging on his arm, your soft body melding into his.

Tonight is going to be great.

------------------------------------------------

Tonight has been crap.

Bucky sulks at the bar, toying with a toothpick and sipping at his glass of brandy. Again, he glances over to where you stand surrounded by a group of coworkers, all of whom are men.

Shit.

He downs the remaining contents of his glass and motions to the bartender for another before going back to glaring at your little posse. He isn’t mad at you though, well, not that much. No, he’s pissed off at the slime-balls crowding you. Don’t they have their own dates to ogle at? Why did they have to steal you away as soon as you both stepped into the ballroom with the pretense of “private business matters”?

Turns out, those “private business matters” are getting you drunk and blustering about your many achievements and how lucky they are to have you on the board. Bucky knows his jealousy is misplaced. He, above everyone here, knows how hard you worked to get this position. You are the youngest person, and the only woman, to ever become a board member. He’s damn proud of you, in fact.

Still, he can tell these sleazy old men don’t give a damn about your work, not with the way they all stare at you like some kind of meal for them to devour. Bucky respects your boundaries and your work life, but how is he supposed to sit back when the tall shit-head with graying blonde hair on your right, who has easy access to getting a peep at your cleavage, keeps touching your arm? Can’t you see what they’re up to? Or are you being deliberately obtuse just to ruffle his feathers?

You wouldn’t do that though. Even if you were flirting with these geezers, which Bucky’s sure you’re not, you wouldn’t do it to get a rise out of him because you wouldn’t think it possible. You’ve never said it outright, but Bucky knows you don’t think he minds when you talk to other men. He does though, he fucking minds a lot.

How can he blame you for it, though? You made it abundantly clear at the start of your relationship that it was fine for him to see other women, even if he wasn’t the least bit interested in anyone else, not from the moment he laid eyes on you. When he tried to argue that you didn’t have anything to worry about – that he didn’t want anyone besides you – you shut him down completely, saying there was no room for argument, that he either accept the terms, or you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

Bucky wanted to strangle every selfish, fucker that made you go to such lengths to feel comfortable in a relationship. Of course, he conceded to your stipulations, there was no way around it, he needed to be with you. But, if you didn’t care if he fucked other people, how could he possibly demand that you only have eyes for him?

Still, though, it was taking all his strength to not rush forward and sweep you away from the group of lechers, and maybe kick a few of them in the nuts for good measure.

A new drink is placed before him and he knocks it back immediately. When he turns back around to continue stalking you from afar, his blood runs cold.

The other members of your group are gone and now it’s just you and blondie talking. The bastard says something and you laugh, reaching up and squeezing his arm, swaying on your feet. He places his hands on your plush hips to, supposedly, stabilize you. All the while, pulling you in much closer than necessary.

Bucky is out of his seat and at your side in a split second. He grabs the offending man’s wrists and yanks them off of you, “Watch where you’re touching, pal.” His threat comes out in a low growl and he pulls you to him, his grip tight around your waist.

“James? What are you doing here?” You hiccup, eyes hazy as they blink up at him. Your surprise at his presence sends a pang through Bucky’s heart. Had you so easily forgotten about him?

Even so, no man touches what’s his.

Bucky takes a step back, bringing you with him, and leans down to your ear, gritting his teeth together in a faux smile, “I’m here because I think it’s time we go. You’ve had too much to drink, doll,” he speaks lowly so only you can hear. He knows his words are a bit too harsh and his tone a little too strained, but he can’t shake the defensive anger coursing through his veins.

The blonde man, who for some reason is still standing there with a strangely satisfied smirk on his lips chooses that very moment to speak up, “So you’re James? Nice to meet you,” he reaches out for a handshake, seemingly unfazed by the murderous glint in Bucky’s eyes. Bucky outright ignores his proffered hand, but the finely clad man brushes off the rebuff and casually slides his hand into his pants pocket, “Y/N talks about you all the time. I can see why, you’re a nice-looking kid.”

He wants to punch the callous grin off of the old asshole’s face, but you snort, “Tod, quit it, stop teasing him.” Bucky’s jaw tightens, you didn’t say he’s not a kid. Bucky hates feeling unworthy of you; like he doesn’t belong at your side. He may be young, but he has just as much right as any to call himself yours.

Tod cracks a smile, “Ha, alright, I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N.” He nods his head at you in goodbye and moves to leave. But when he passes Bucky’s shoulder, he leans in and whispers, “Better get her home quick, son. Don’t you have a curfew to worry about?” He chuckles to himself when he catches Bucky’s seething face, not at all intimidated by the rage flaring in the younger man’s blue eyes. With those final parting words, Tod walks off, lucky to not have a bruise the size of Bucky’s left fist on his smarmy face, in Bucky’s opinion.

Bucky breathes heavily, trying not to run after the guy to show him where he can stick his fucking curfew bullshit. Instead, he switches his focus back to you. You’re leaning into him, your usually calculating eyes spacey and a goofy smile plays on your lips. He frowns, you normally don’t drink so much, “What the hell did you get yourself into, doll?” This time his voice is softer, worried, but less biting.

You glance up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, but once you understand what he’s asking, you let out an uncharacteristic giggle, “To celebrate, we did some shots, I don’t remember how many I had,” your words are slow and nonchalant, as if you are actively trying not to slur them together, “Anyway, why are you upset, darling? I thought I told you to find some guys your own age to chat with. I knew you wouldn’t be interested in all our boring old business talk.” As you talk, Bucky hurries you to the exit, only pausing at the coat check to grab your things. He messages your driver to be out front in five.

“Guys my age?” His tone is bitter but you’re oblivious to his simmering indignation.

“Yeah! It’s a party for mostly higher-ups, but a few of them brought their sons, and some brought their daughters too,” you give him a sly wink at that. Bucky just stands there in front of the decorated driveway, trying to temper the many unsavory responses he wants to make at your last remark. His arm is wrapped around your full waist, clutching you to his side. He stays silent as your car finally pulls up, the driver not bothering to hop out since Bucky already has the back door open before he even rolls to a complete stop. Bucky ushers you into the backseat before sliding in after you.

The partition is already rolled up so he turns to you, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Daughters?”

You scrunch up your face, confused by his questioning, “Yeah, I’ve met some of them. Mr. & Mrs. Willson’s daughter, Sarah, is a real looker. I think you’d like her, she’s just your type, and then there’s Melina’s daughter, Nata-”

“I don’t understand.” Bucky stares at you, trying to mask the hurt in his chest, “Were you trying to get rid of me? I came here tonight to be with you. Why would I want to spend it with some other girl? Why did you spend it with other men? Y/N, I-I don’t know what you want from me, why would you-” His tone has turned accusatory and befuddled. He wants to come clean, to shout that he doesn’t give a shit about other women, but the words are caught in his throat. He’s too much of a coward to speak them aloud.

You shush him, shaking your head, a placating smile on your red lips, “James, I don’t know why you’re getting so riled up, but stop. I just want to enjoy the rest of the car ride home with you, please, I’m tired.” You kick off your heels and relax your head against his shoulder; placing your soft hand in his. He gazes at your lovely face as you play with his metal fingers. The flashing lights that fill the car as it passes underneath brightly lit billboards and dim streetlamps cast fluttering shadows around your ethereal features. His chest fills with a sentiment he doesn’t know how to describe, one he’s maybe too scared to unpack. Your eyes drift shut and your hands still in his, as your soft snores fill the interior of the car. Bucky places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, soaking up your rich perfume.

When the car arrives back home, Bucky carries your sleeping form inside, hugging your plush body to his chest. He lays you down on the bed and goes to work getting you ready for sleep. He knows you wouldn’t want to go to sleep with makeup on, so he grabs a makeup wipe from with bathroom and removes your still pristine look. Bucky loves the power and confidence makeup gives you, but he adores your fresh face, which he doesn’t often get to see.

You tend to keep him at a distance, only letting him see parts of you, not allowing yourself to be “messy” in his presence. Again, there's that foreign panging in his heart. It feels like there is a wall between the two of you, one that you purposefully set up, Bucky’s afraid he’s never going to break it down. Even tonight, when you were fairly drunk, you held a certain air of professionalism about you, so to speak.

You always have to be in control and Bucky wishes that you would just let him be the one to shoulder the burden for once. It’s like you think he’ll abandon you if you ask him to commit more to your relationship. You just don’t know how much he craves you when you tell him he has the “weekend off”, or that he only has to come to events “if he wants to”. You may think you’re letting him have “freedom” and not feel “tied down”, but in reality, you’re denying him the time and companionship that he so desires from you. Bucky wants you to demand more of him, to expect more from him. He sure wants more of you; however he can get it.

What if all you ever want is just a good time and a good lay with a young, pretty face? A few months ago he might have been satisfied with that, but now he wants more. And he is terrified to ask for it.

He finishes cleaning your face and even has the mind to put moisturizer on you since you live and breathe the stuff. He unzips your gown and pulls it off your body. After taking a moment to appreciate the majesty of your body, he goes and hangs the dress back in the closet before coming back out with one of your pajama sets.

He removes your strapless bra and slides the soft, silk pajama top over your chest. You have shapewear on so he shimmies you out of it, which is a little challenging he’ll admit. He has no clue why you wear the restricting stuff. You say it’s to have a smooth base for your tighter garments to rest on, but he suspects there might be more to it. Either way, it’s your body and he gets to appreciate it with and without the shapewear on, so he’s plenty satisfied.

After he gets your pajama bottoms on, he quickly changes into a pair of boxers, not bothering with a shirt. He shuffles into bed beside you, pulling the covers over you both. He hugs you to his chest, trying to get the feeling of dread to leave his subconscious. You’re here in his arms, and that is enough. It has to be.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x plus size reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #sugar baby!bucky #plus size reader #Bucky angst #bucky fluff #mcu fanifiction #mcu x plus size reader #plus size reader fanfic #bucky barnes x you #jealous bucky barnes #sugar baby!bucky x reader #My writing #mine #rubynationwins

[actual-changeling]

ahhhhh fuck it. sure. back to normal meta posting.

do not copy or otherwise repost any of my writing without express permission, including (but not limited to) any and all blogs that are dedicated to harassing people based on their opinions.

—

a south downs ending does not equal a fairy tale ending/happily ever after.

regardless of how you personally characterize crowley and aziraphale and interpret their actions, ignoring the emotional impact of pretty much the entirety of season two would be a disservice to neil (and terry) as a storyteller.

aziraphale not just broke crowley's trust, he repeatedly chose to side with heaven and "morality" over him—crowley has always been the second choice, otherwise aziraphale would have fallen long ago. he would not fall for crowley because so far he has not fallen, he turned away from crowley every single time it came down to either falling or continuing to hold his position as an angel.

meanwhile crowley fell from both heaven's and hell's graces long before he fell in love with aziraphale; it has never been a choice for him because he decided on who he wants to be and how he wants to live once he found out about the 6000 year deadline on the universe.

crowley fell for what is right, for what is decent and kind regardless of the consequences he'll have to face afterwards.

aziraphale has not fallen simply to keep his personal comfort intact and stuck to the selfish ideology centring whatever is the most convenient option in a given situation, and no matter how you twists and turn it, that's at the heart of it—because, again, otherwise he would already have fallen.

so when neil resolves their conflicts—because i trust that he will do it in a way that's satisfactory for everyone involved, including us as the audience—those centuries predating season three don't just magically disappear.

crowley will hopefully have learned to live for himself and not anyone else, which allows him to choose what kind of relationship he wants to have with aziraphale. they might move into their cottage with their relationship still healing and the end result open. content and together, sure, but crowley is under no obligation to forgive aziraphale for any of the shit that he put him through. there's a degree of intimacy and trust they'll never get back; it sucks, it's sad, but it is what it is.

meanwhile aziraphale will have to face that he fucked up, openly acknowledge how he's hurt crowley and others, and apologize without expecting forgiveness; he might get it, he might not, but he needs to keep growing/learning/changing no matter what.

think about the ending of season one—they're dining at the ritz, content and happily enjoying each other's presence, but outside of that we are not given more information. i can see exactly that happening at the end of season three, a satisfactory ending that also simultaneously allows us to decide for ourselves what happens once we leave them.

if there is a single thing i am certain of it's that we will not get a fairy tale ending, no happily ever after, and if that's what you're expecting going into it, then you will probably be disappointed.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #alex's meta minisodes #let's see how this goes

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 4

Summary: In which you realize some things about your friend, Zagreus. “Death may be normal here, but the pain…”

WC: 1.5k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut

AN: What is a slow burn without the angst??

“Why go through all that effort? Surely you understand how dangerous it is,” You say, referring to his runs through the Underworld. As far as you know, there’s been several. Buried in the covers with a good book, you lay on your side and flip to the next page, though it's lost your attention since Zagreus arrived. “Death may be normal here, but the pain…”

At your lounge chair, Zagreus waves you off, eyes flicking from your figure to your sketchbook in his lap between exaggerated strokes, obnoxiously scritching the parchment. You roll your eyes. “I’m more than familiar with pain. As for why…”

Hearing the somber shift in his tone, you look up, willing him to meet your gaze. “Please don’t feel obligated to answer if it’s too personal.”

“No I… I trust you,” For a moment, Zagreus expression softens, like he can’t believe he’d befriend a demon to this point. You know you can’t, but you also know you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

Almost anything, that is.

The sketchbook shuts with a soft thud. Zagreus crosses the short distance to sit at the foot of your bed, by the curve of your hips. The bed dips under his weight before he takes a deep breath. “Long story short, I found out the mother that raised me isn’t my biological mother, and eventually I learned my biological mother escaped the Underworld and is somewhere on the surface.”

“So once you get to the surface, you intend to find her?”

“Exactly.”

“And what then?”

“Get answers,” He simply answers. Though his eyes steel with conviction, he slumps forward, resting his elbows on toned thighs.

Heat rises to your face, and you turn back to your book.

“You must think I’m a fool.”

“No.” Zagreus shoots you a flat look over his shoulder like he doesn't believe you, so you fully turn your attention to him. “Really! I don’t. I mean, shades aren’t allowed to leave the Underworld, natural order and all that.”

“…Shades. Right,” He says slowly, breaking eye contact for a split second.

“But I understand why you’d want to try. I just wish I could help you in some way, maybe smuggle you out on my next job.”

He perks up, gazing at you curiously, “You’ve been to the surface?”

“A few times for work. Though it has been a while since my last assignment…”

“What’d you have to do?”

Oh, you know: make contracts with humans and feed off them until they’re a husk of their former selves. You know, as succubus do. You settle on, “Demon things. You wouldn’t get it.”

Zagreus shrugs, unable to argue with that.

“… Suppose you do find your mother and get your answers,” You start, tone low and nervous. You swallow, trying to keep your nerves from wracking your vocal cords, keeping the tremble out of your voice. “What-what do you plan to do after?”

“That depends,” Wild, black hair falls over his eyes as his gaze drops to the floor. “If she hates me or not.”

You cock your head. Was that fear in his tone? For a moment, you allow yourself to study his broad back, scolding yourself when you admire the exposed ridges of muscle. Harsh, green light frames his profile, turning him into a slim silhouette among the soft shadows of your chamber. But now, as he sits at the edge of your bed, no longer he looks poised and regal as he usually does. No boons livening the air around him, no charming grin or cocky smirk. Posture be damned, he slouches, beautiful lips pressed thin, and he looks defeated—no, he looks…

Tired.

It never occurred to you how miserable your friend is here in the Underworld. He always seemed so lively by the time he reached your chamber, even when he’s scuffed and bloodied, like the heat of battle cheers him up. And yes, it’s Tartarus; souls are supposed to be despaired, miserable, tortured—for gods’ sake, it’s your jobs—but looking at Zagreus, exhausted yet still handsome as ever in his flaming laurels and refined chiton, feet seering footprints into your floor, he looks out of place in your humble abode.

Your heart clenches, suddenly self aware. Self conscious. Differences that hardly mattered before now at the forefront of your thoughts.

“I’m not finished, by the way.”

You meet his gaze, visibly perplexed though it’s painful. His heterochromia, the contrast of the blood red and forest green, is needlessly beautiful, as if the man isn’t magnificent enough already. Curse his family for whatever genes they poured into him.

The bed rises once more and as Zagreus leaves for the balcony, the gap between you—once miniscule and quickly closing—begins turning into a chasm.

“My drawing. It’s nowhere done.” Stopping before the balcony’s threshold, Zagreus gestures to the sketchbook. You sit up, blankets and furs pooling into your lap as you take it into your hands.

You, or a semblance of yourself at least, stares back. The strokes are short, thick, lines of charcoal jagged and uneven, though that’s to be expected. Zagreus snorted at you he buys art not create it, but that did nothing to deter him from trying. You lent him your sketchbook and pencils anyway, the thought of sharing your hobby with him filling you with giddiness you haven’t experienced in gods’ know how long.

As you study the amateur sketch of yourself, your heart swells so big, it terrifies you. There’s scuffed edges where the side of his palm pressed into the strokes, leaving partial prints. The proportions are atrocious, and if he’d been anyone else you’d tear into him. Yet, far from accurate as it may be, he manages to highlight your most discernible features. Just not the ones you expect. It’s not your chest or your hips or waist or even your legs, no.

It’s the fluid lash of your tail as you lay on your stomach, as if he tried to capture the cat-like movements on paper; the draping of your wings and the way you relax them against your back like a blanket; the graceful curve of your horns, the ends pointed not in a threat but a promise. And your face—

Smudges blot all over the background of your figure but most of all where your face is, the paper slightly damaged as if he erased one too many times trying to capture your visage.

Your heart skips. Blood and darkness.

As Zagreus’s back disappears behind the rumbling door to the next chamber, it’s for the best, you think, left to the familiarity of your quiet chamber. Your heart thunders in your ears.

Zagreus and you, a demon—a succubus? You’d never last.

As friends. As friends, of course.

This is for the best. 

It’s for the best.

…Is it possible to feel loss when there is nothing to begin with?

Eyes misting over, you snatch up your sketchbook and pencils, letting your tears stain the page with Zagreus’s eyes still fresh in your mind.

It’s for the best.

#zagreus x reader #hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus and reader #zagreus (hades video game) x reader #zagreus (hades video game) and reader #supergiant hades

[scoobydoodean]

i think it’s kinda funny how you don’t have some sort of online handle except your urls, so i can only ever address you as like dftsam. anyway i saw a take that said cas “learned” to feel unloved from dean, from the way dean treated him basically - an example they gave was dean looking away when cas said I love you as he was dying in s12 - and it seemed there were a lot of people agreeing with it. i’m not one of them, but if you were interested (only if you’d wanna talk about it, I’d get it if you didn’t) I’d love to get you thoughts on this idea?

So I read this at like 1-2 AM lying in bed and I was like this:

I find it so fucking funny when people start in on this shit, because Dean girls and Cas girls can do this to each other all day long. “Dean made Cas feel unloved” “Cas made Dean feel unloved”. You can build a framework for either (BOTH) by cherrypicking scenes to suit a narrative. Like. I can easily say that Cas repeatedly sent a message, regardless of his intentions, that Dean’s feelings don’t mean jack shit to him. I prefer to take things with humor and just understand where Cas’s issues are coming from (just like Dean—who makes his best effort to understand Cas; just like Cas makes his best effort to understand Dean) rather than get mad and demonize him so I can be angsty about Dean always feeling "unloved"… but the guy… look—making no effort to explain why he is like this at this moment (because Cas apologism is absolutely not the point of this ask) Cas is known to do the following:

Control the means of communication. You will pretty much never see Dean ghost Cas. Even when Dean was forced to kick him out, he checked up on him to make sure he was okay. But Cas will knowingly and intentionally ghost Dean’s prayers and calls for days and weeks at a time on repeat through their ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP. Dean has expressed that this upsets him more than once, but Cas continues to do it. Every once in a while he’ll throw in a half-assed apology sure—but it doesn’t mean anything. He’s going to do the thing he’s apologizing for again as soon as he’s decided he doesn’t want to face Dean’s questions or doesn’t want him involved yet again. Which means 1) he isn't actually sorry 2) how it makes Dean feel is not important to him or else he'd stop doing it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Keep secrets about bad things going on CONSTANTLY. Over and over and over and over… then Dean is still the one who ends up apologizing for getting mad about it. Rinse, repeat.

(Often) Refuse to be a team player in an effort to keep Sam and Dean out of harms way over the things he has personally decided are too dangerous for them, without ever letting them have a say, because he has unilaterally decided they are too tiny and soft and he needs to fall on a sword when no one asked him to and no one WANTS HIM TO. A lot of people want to turn this into bemoaning Castiel's constant unappreciated sacrifices, but this is so unbelievably shortsighted of a take. He is attempting to relate to Dean, a person who believes he is poison and that loving him gets people killed, by attempting to fucking martyr himself over and over and OVER. Dean doesn't WANT it, and it isn't NECESSARY 99% of the time if Cas would just WORK AS A TEAM.

Urges Dean to co-parent children who he feels he has personal obligations to twice.

Who does that remind you of? Because I know who it reminds me of, but people don’t want to read that meta—or about how Cas traded out his car for a truck (who else did that?), or about how your last words before a sacrifice can haunt a person and rip them open in ways you never intended. Of course Cas isn’t that guy… but I bet my ass Dean sure as hell sees the shades of him.. I do think it is an intentional decision to frame Cas in the late seasons after another person who also made Dean feel very unloved and unwanted—not in the big things like big grand sacrifices—but in the small things—the day to day things that slowly strangle a relationship to death—like making unilateral decisions for everyone and not answering the goddamn phone. (Edit here: I do NOT mean that Cas is intentionally being framed as CRUEL and EVIL. I mean that he is intentionally being paralleled with this person. Dean and Sam are also paralleled with that person in different ways at various points and it doesn't mean any of them are evil irredeemable villains. They just have some obvious hangups and the way this particular one for Cas ends up manifesting is probably pretty difficult for Dean and probably makes him think of how that other person behaved and how it made him feel).

Dean didn’t react right when Cas said I love you in season 12? Well. That’s debatable. But going on the offensive first before the defensive: Cas only wants to say this on his deathbed when Dean has no chance to respond.

Dean, on the other hand, has expressed his care for Cas MULTIPLE TIMES. He didn't say the words, "I love you" (he doesn't even say that to SAM) but he said "We're family" "You're the closest thing I have to family—you're like a brother to me" and "I need you" and "I'm not leaving without you" and "Being with you today is the most I've laughed in years" and "I'd rather have you, cursed or not" and "It's a gift. You keep those. Let's work as a team. We're better together."

And what does Cas do after every single one of these expressions of Dean's love?

He L E A V E S!!!!

He fucking leaves, and Cas girls want to talk about Dean making a face? And cry that Dean makes Cas feel unloved? Forgive me if that makes me fucking CACKLE at the AUDACITY.

I think one thing people tend to do, is they frame everything as if Cas is oblivious to Dean loving him, but Dean has to know or SHOULD know how Cas feels about him. This is why we get rancid takes like "DeAn nEedS tO pUll hIS hEaD oUt of HiS asS". Oh shut up. Castiel canonically can SENSE DEAN'S LONGING. If Dean's head is up his ass, Castiel's is shoved so fucking far up his sphincter it's coming out of his mouth.

Yet still—Dean recognizes, in season 11, that Cas is struggling—that Cas feels down on himself and unloved (and I DO NOT think Cas BLAMES Dean for that at all—it takes a lot of willful ignorance about everything going on with his biological family to come to that conclusion) and Dean tries to FIX IT. He once again reiterates to Cas how much he cares about him—that he's family. He has NO IDEA that the words intended to make Cas feel better are going to send him down one of the most deranged spirals of unhinged decision-making ever (the Kelly shenanigans are WILD). I actually have a slightly different take on this, from the typical " it sent him off the deep end because he got 'brother-zoned'". I think it sent him off the deep end because it was the final *nail in the coffin in what Cas saw as a reversal of their relationship—where he isn't the guy who protects everyone anymore with his grace and his grand wings... that's Dean now, and Dean is saying that Cas, like Sam, is under his protection... and Castiel absolutely could not STAND that. He didn't need his romantic affections to be returned. What he wanted, more than anything—what he saw (in a rough draft of the script) when Jack showed him paradise, was Dean thanking him, and his powers returned to their former glory. Because Cas has unilaterally decided Dean's feelings, he chooses to love him like a saint loves Jesus, laying down his life, instead of being in a partnership, because he doesn't want to be someone Dean protects—not even in a partnership where they protect each other. He wants to be the sole protector.

All of that to say: Cas didn't learn how to feel unloved from Dean. TEXTUALLY. It is ON THE TIN. Saying that is literally the EXACT OPPOSITE of what Cas SAYS about Dean. He says he cared about the whole world because of DEAN. He cared because Dean's love was so captivatingly beautiful and inspiring and transcendent that it changed who Cas was inside to the core, and he fell fucking head over heels. "You changed me".

#Y'all can call me PK if you want! #and cas is my best friend #john #dont feed the stans after midnight #i dont deserve what he put on me

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

tagged by @wispstalk - thank you! :D

Rules: post examples of your writing for each question.

tagging (no obligation as per usual!) @bwayfan25, @ghoulsbeard, @onaperduamedee, @lemon-embalmer, @morihaus, and anyone else who wants to play!

(under the cut to save your dash aha)

a line from your fic that makes you laugh

“Well, that’s a relief, because you pretending not to know what a conversation was for the next epoch of recorded history was kind of inconvenient,” he says lightly, getting to his feet.

I just think Romano's dialogue is so much fun to write lol. he's my awful special little guy! I love leaning into the who SAYS that you weirdo aspect of his speech patterns.

a line from your fic that makes you sad

There’s a beat where he looks, very briefly, like a man lost at sea.

...I also love hurting him by putting him in emotionally oblique conversations where he's off his balance finally. points at him. experience the consequences of your purposefully unkind actions via the infliction of emotional turmoil, little bald man

a line from your fic you're proud of

“Just Molly. Please. You don’t have to call me ‘miss.’” Agdis laughs and pushes off from the wall. “Well,” she holds her gaze, “maybe once I’m out of uniform.”

really pleased with how this one works on multiple levels; it's one of those rare delights where I thought of it and then was like "oh NO. unfortunately it's perfect." flirtatious in the present moment, but if you have the contextual knowledge of the circumstances under which Molly does "get her out of uniform" it's a little more ouch :'(

a line from your fic you think could have been better

This human heart beat too quickly for her liking. She was wary of the way the prince spoke to her, too earnest and too hopeful; she did not have the appearance of a unicorn any longer, but he addressed the Lady Amalthea the same way little girls addressed the unicorn. “You have my heart,” he told her one day, but she never felt the weight of a new organ in her chest, and though she listened, there was only one steady too-fast beat between her lungs.

gestures to literally anything written past the "this is recent and therefore I have done the best I can" expiration date. no lol but to be specific, this whole (old) character study piece of the blurring lines between Amalthea and the unicorn I think could have been refined better. this line, for example, has some good ideas at play, but is executed more clumsily than I'd like, looking at it now with the distance of time. but you live and learn!

a line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character

He shifts his voice into a mocking, accented falsetto that sounds nothing like her. “—‘Robaht, I fancy jumping your bones’ would’ve been fine. Maybe try the heads-up next time you find yourself—what, insatiably consumed with lust?—at three in the damn morning.”

when you're collateral damage in someone else's self-harm ;-; this whole scene was mean but it was unfortunately NECESSARY. smacking him about it anyway. both of you! do better!!

a line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Mark knows he’s not poetic, but he is happy. “I love you,” he says, because he needs to say it, because he wants to keep learning new things like this about her. The expression that blooms over her face is what he imagines he looked like on the way to the ground with a soccer ball imprint on his forehead. She covers it with an odd little smile, nose scrunching up. “How hard exactly would you say you hit your head?”

cries a little bit. Mark's emotional honesty versus Elizabeth's allergic reaction to vulnerability. what if someone told you they loved you and you didn't flinch. the world might end. (or it might not. is that worse?)

a line from your fic that's full of symbolism

“And if it’s alright,” [Mirabelle] pushes at the mountain of blankets, “I think I would rather a fire.”

cough. looks pointedly and lesbianly into the camera. yeah I bet you would. I mean what... who said that...

a line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

Most of the places mentioned in Shalidor’s notes either no longer exist or are long since emptied, by age or by adventurers who don’t know anything about good conservation technique and insist on leaving their own journals all over the place with barely a page or two filled. She imagines whoever is bookbinding for these adventurers must run a surprisingly lucrative business.

this was HARD bc like half of what I write is just inside jokes with myself that would a) take a convoluted explanation and/or b) be embarrassing to explain, but this line (from a wip) I think is a good example of. not that lol. we can all be in on the joke as a treat... Skyrim should have let me read two hundred pages of some random dead guy's mundane life problems/hopes/dreams/grocery lists every time I picked up an abandoned journal

a line from your fic that's shocking

There’s too much to knit together where she can’t see, too much displaced, misaligned; she’d straightened out the spine first to try to help get everything else closer to where it belongs, but Mirabelle had only opened her eyes to spit out a horribly solid chunk of something bloody with an awful gurgling sound and gasp, frighteningly shallow. Lungs. Ribs. The heart at least seems fine for now, and thank Mara for small miracles, but the abdominal cavity, which is disorganized on a good day—she thinks with a sudden fierce passion that she has always hated the abdominal cavity—

shocking mostly bc I can get so squeamish about viscera so I'm delighted to have managed to successfully convey a kind of scary gross moment. I've noticed that people who get easily squicked by injury/illness/etc (such as myself) sometimes tend to overcompensate by overdetailing it when it comes up, but then it loses effect because you're spending so long on it or getting too specific/technical. six paragraphs of someone's intestines falling out, for example, stops being shocking after a certain point. settled on a more concise but I think still effective way of describing it to try avoiding that issue and have been pretty pleased with the results! (side note: this is a great example of "inside jokes with myself" if you know my chronic illness largely affects the contents of the abdominal cavity and doctors are always telling me what horrors go on in there.)

a line from your fic you want to talk about more

It’s always better to be cautious about things that aren’t certain—if she were to allow herself to be a little reductive, she would say that history is nothing but context, and an asyndetic text, even a primary source, requires a degree of speculation that, applied too liberally, can often be worse than useless.

also from above-mentioned wip! I put Kharish through some silly things bc I think she's funny, but I really like writing her in her element where she's more serious too. balancing her academic register and her "normal" register, as it were! autism blast of being smart in a handful of specific areas and then cheerfully and obliviously fumbling interpersonal interactions... :')

#writing tag #Mouse talks! #'Mouse how can your favorite character be a surgeon if you're squeamish abt viscera' well they don't show the inside of the body very often #and when they do I simply do not look! #hilariously this only started in like high school bc in middle school I could quite cheerfully have lunch while watching Bones #as in the gross forensic autopsies show. I just put that on and then ate my lunch while watching. @baby Mouse: how and also why

[acacia-may]

Kirsch and Mimosa, please 💚💙🤍

Hi there, Anon-friend! Thank you so much for the request! 🥰 I would absolutely love to write some headcanons about the Flower Vermillion Siblings for you, especially since today is Kirsch's birthday! (Happy Birthday, Kirsch! 🌸) My heart really goes out to all of the problematic fictional sibling relationships, and I tend to get really, really invested in them. Kirsch and Mimosa's strained sibling bond is definitely no exception, and I really hope they get to reconcile and become closer someday. I am a big believer that Mimosa and Kirsch can one day reach an understanding of each other and have a more functional sibling bond in the future, so I am very happy to get to think of some wholesome ideas for these two. 💗

Questions from this "Bye Bye Writer's Block" Headcanons Game

(A/N: This post got a little lengthy so I've put the headcanons below the cut. Warnings: a few vague references to Season 4 content and the Spade Arc, but there are no specific spoilers)

Kirsch and Mimosa Siblings Headcanons

💚-- General

(A/N: I couldn't decide so I've included two)

While Mimosa doesn't talk about her brother much to her squad mates on the Golden Dawn, everyone on the Coral Peacocks squad knows about Mimosa. Kirsch mentions her constantly to the point that Dorothy jokes that Mimosa is their entire squad's "little sister." They all know better to mention it to Mimosa, however, but Mimosa does start to catch on when, surprisingly enough, most of the Coral Peacocks members seem to know a lot of things about her, especially about her achievements which Kirsch talks about the most--the squad assumes it's just part of his usual bragging bravado, but those who know him well know that it's really because he is genuinely proud of his little sister and all of her accomplishments.

Bonus: When Mimosa and Noelle visit Dorothy for tea in her Glamour World once, Dorothy accidentally let's slip that she's made Mimosa's favorite tea, even though Mimosa knows that she's never mentioned it herself. Dorothy knows it's Mimosa's favorite tea because Kirsch always asks for a cup of it himself and always remarks that his sister has impeccable taste.

OR

While Mimosa loved the beautiful fairy tale books that she was given to read as a child, she also loved adventure books. When she started to muddy her dresses and tear holes in her stockings from playing pirates or expeditioners with her cousins in the gardens, however, her family felt that such books weren't appropriate literature for a proper, royal young lady. Kirsch, however, thought this was ridiculous and would sneak all the best adventure books out of the library and slide them under Mimosa's door or hide them in her room so she'd still get to read them.

💙-- Hurt/Comfort

Whenever Kirsch was having a really rough day when he and his sister were growing up, Tiny Mimosa used to sneak down to the kitchen in Castle Vermillion to steal chocolate candies for him. She used to always say that "chocolates make everything better" and would sneak the candies into his room to try to cheer him up. It always managed to bring a smile to his face. In the future, after Mimosa returned following the attack on the Golden Dawn and the Spade Arc, Kirsch was very concerned about his sister and everything she had gone through, but unsure of the best way to express it, he went out and bought the biggest box of chocolates he could find and sent them to her.

🤍-- Fluff

When Mimosa was very little and Kirsch was beginning to learn to use his magic, she used to beg him to make it "rain flowers." He always obliged because he loved to show off how his little sister's face would light up when she danced and skipped around in the sea of petals. There would be several times that Mimosa would reach for his brother's hand and ask him to dance with her too.

Bonus (for extra cavities): In the future, Mimosa's children will beg "Uncle Kirsch" to make it "rain flowers" for them just like their mom used to do when she was their age, and he will take his beloved nieces and nephews out into gardens and watch them giggle and dance around in the petals. Feeling nostalgic, he'll often invite Mimosa to join in the fun and they'll all dance in the "flower rain" together. 🌸

#mimosa vermillion #kirsch vermillion #vermillion siblings #black clover headcanons #thank you so much for the request and for playing! #bye bye writer's block headcanons

[that-gay-jedi]

Sometimes I have to remind myself that the entire reason I like Anakin is bc he represents the wounded, hungry, untameable parts of me that I've spent years learning to work with & if I can see him as redeemable then I can love myself too. That's practically the first thing I ever wrote when I joined this hellsite, but I forget sometimes because I see the goodness he was capable of.

I have thought many times (and wrote once) that "that's not just darkness, that's MY darkness" and that his worst moments remind me of things I work very hard not to do (although I should revise that, because it isn't as difficult as it used to be).

This isn't to say Anakin is pure anti-example. He has many genuinely admirable qualities. Thing is, so do the fucked up, starved, out of control etc parts of ourselves when they're integrated in healthy ways. That's why we all have them! This applies to traits I would not necessarily assign to Anakin either, of course.

My fundamental experience of healing from trauma has been learning that thoughts and feelings are never inherently corrosive things that need to be contained, restrained or nullified. They are more like species of animals that serve an indispensable purpose in their proper habitat, but become troublesome and destructive when taken into an environment not their own.

To cultivate a mindset that's both rational and compassionate, to be tranquil and warm, one would metaphorically fish the cow out of the aquarium, stop feeding the tiger vegetables, clear invasive species out of one's emotional ecosystem and provide enrichment to anything one chooses to cage.

Villains and their foils provide an arena in which to experiment with how (and how not to) do this without direct impact on the real world, and in a much richer and more evocative way than trolly problems.

Selfish You is an injured and/or misdirected expression of the part of you that knows you deserve life and happiness just as much as anyone else, and that the person whose wellbeing you're most ethically obligated to keep in mind is your own- "don't set yourself on fire to keep others warm" lives here, but so does "don't make anyone else responsible for your happiness." With time and practice we eventually find that we're most considerate and kind to others when we stand up for ourselves.

Angry You exists to protect you (and everyone you love, and everything you value including concepts/principles/ideals) from various threats. So does Frightened You. These are survival emotions and they serve an evolutionary purpose, we only need to be open to examine when and how they're appropriate to act on and when the Survival Brain is taking you somewhere you don't want to go.

Envious You tells you when your situation is unsuitable to you in some way, and/or when you're being treated unfairly. Like Selfish You, it both urges you to value yourself enough to stand up to cruel or exploitative treatment, and to take responsibility for your own wellbeing and your relationship to yourself.

Jealous You not only shows you who and what you're afraid of losing, but highlights the unique qualities in yourself that you might worry are not enough for the world or your loved ones (you are enough, and if you love someone who doesn't think so, perhaps they don't deserve you). It also shows us the admirable qualities in others that we can appreciate if we can get past the initial protective reactions- which is to say, the strength to be found in community.

Those are just some examples, but you can extrapolate this to pretty much any quality a villain redeemed or otherwise in media is going to have, and quite a lot of the unpleasantness you'll run into irl too.

Basically all of life is in one way or another about allowing emotions to be what they are appropriately. Because it sucks ass to just let your cow sink in the aquarium, but we also cannot make our feelings anything they're not.

#anakin skywalker #emotional health #i hope i dont regret this post i dont want anyone to fight i just want everyone to love their wounded selves #star wars #darth vader #blorbo from my therapy homework #as i sit on my hell themed/mustafar screenshot blog and type abt inner peace lmao

[izzyspussy]

I'm legally obligated to ask if you think a foursome ever happens in the collegiate au, and if so, how many times gjhjhh ~ blackhannet anon

Ed and Jack have the exact same kind of arrangement that Jack does with employment. They hook up whenever either one of them doesn't have someone better. (This is my headcanon for how their relationship works in canon as well.)

However! In canon via sailing under Hornigold and here via grad school, Ed and Jack are trauma bonded. So there are these weird, complicated, somewhat dysfunctional feelings there. But in this version of them it gets to be a little bit less fraught, owing to the fact that there isn't the pressure to kill (or appear to kill, as it were) to survive lmfao. They're fighting for honor(s) and sanity, not their literal lives. So because of that there's room for their connection to get even weirder and more complicated, but slightly less dysfunctional kasfks.

All that to say, they kind of do have feelings for each other. They're not In Love TM. But if they "had" to, for whatever reason, begin conducting a solely platonic relationship they would be pretty unhappy about that. (They don't know this yet.)

Ed's relationship with Izzy is and changes in basically the same way. The basis is the same. Ed is practically the only person on earth who Gets Izzy, who actually likes him, who genuinely wants him around (or at least did until Stede came around). And Izzy is practically the only person on earth who Ed feels confident has his back. Loyalty is a fickle, conditional thing - from anybody but Izzy. Oh, and they are in deep, deep aromantic love with each other rip. (All of this is true in canon.)

But because the stakes are lower and the violence is less (not nonexistent, please note) in this version, they are able to be a little bit less crazy about it. Ed can say out loud that he appreciates Izzy's friendship. Izzy doesn't have to kill for Ed. When they have a fight there are fisticuffs rather than forced autocannibalism. You know. When Stede comes in and upends everything, Izzy is hurt and jealous and feels neglected etc. He feels like his only friend is being taken away from him, yes, but not his life and safety and identity.

For Ed's part re: Izzy. He just gets really caught up with this whole new thing with Stede, because it is wholly new. Romance! Hey, it's real! And Stede himself is wild as a person. So pretty much all of the rest of Ed's life falls to the wayside in the fairytale period of first meeting and falling for Stede. But that is a shortcoming in Ed's behavior, not necessarily an expression of how he really feels about Izzy (or Jack).

Now. Stede genuinely dislikes Jack, and Jack doesn't exactly like Stede on a personal level but he does think he's funny and wild. Someone he'd love to go toe-to-toe with for the foreseeable future.

Izzy genuinely dislikes Stede, and Stede doesn't exactly like Izzy on a personal level but he does think he's cool and smart. Someone he can't help but respect and perhaps even admire. And Ed loves him, so he's also insatiably curious about why that is. He wants to be In The Know about loving Izzy kjaslkfjks.

Jack and Izzy both don't like each other, but neither of them is particularly threatened by the other so nobody really cares whlsfhs. They have fucked just because Jack is so uniquely talented at goading people into shit. The only part of Izzy that regrets it is his ego. It continues to happen. It never stops bruising Izzy's ego.

Jack and Stede fuck for exactly the same reason as Izzy. This also bruises Stede's ego. It happens before Stede gets with Ed, and unlike with Izzy it does seem like it will only happen the one time. Once Stede gets with Ed he's much more difficult to goad, and Jack hasn't learned the new tricks yet if he ever will. Stede is still curious about Izzy, but it's an insignificant low simmer of interest until he realizes that Ed hasn't himself lost interest in Izzy. After which realization of course, Stede's interest in Izzy is not only renewed but stoked higher.

Meanwhile, Jack no longer has to goad Izzy into having sex with him because Izzy is being goaded elsewhere - either unknowingly by Stede or by his own damn self. It is, in fact, Jack who suggests (to Izzy) that the three of them should get together. It's Jack who says, hey dumbass, you know there are other kinds of non-platonic love that aren't expressly romantic, right? And Izzy says no fuck you what are you talking about. Asshole. And Jack rolls his eyes and sets up Ed and Izzy and takes it upon himself to distract Stede so the two of them can have a lovely date where they either clear the air or bone down, with instructions left with Izzy to only do the one that seems the most effective not the one that is easiest. Izzy tells him to choke, but takes the advice despite himself.

Jack attempts to fuck Stede again during Ed and Izzy's date, but fails. He has to come up with increasingly ludicrous ways to keep Stede away from home. Hijinks, and such.

The Blackhanneting Strikes.

Jack gets to have a brand new experience of being happy for someone else for having something he doesn't have, which in turn forces him to recognize that he wants it. In a thrilling plot twist, he does not try to insert himself or fuck it up for them. He has a brief identity crisis because of this. Is he... nice? Perhaps even (🤢) generous (🤮)?? He tests the hypothesis and of course the results are a pretty clear 'No' lmfao. He documents his findings and uses them to secure gainful employment (for now).

Everything is going great, everything is fine. Stede gets his second honorary doctorate and begins his study into non-monogamy (in homosexual human males aged 45 to 60, again totally objective). He has gradually become In The Know about loving Izzy, and has set out to prove to Izzy in terms that Izzy respects and understands that the relationship can be and is deadly serious. Not at all, he says, like what Jack does.

Jack gets fired for being a dirtbag who is unpleasant both to work and socialize with. He starts up his alpha male course again. Marked by this period of employment and then unemployment, this is the longest he and Ed have gone without fucking since they met in undergrad. They miss each other. They hang out as much as their jobs and their jobs' travels allow, but they miss each other.

Stede starts taking Jack's course. On one hand, it's to learn how to fuck like an animal. On the other hand, it's because in order to favorably compare his relationship to the relationships Jack leads he needs to know more about how Jack leads his relationships. On another, deeply subconscious hand, Stede has picked up on Ed missing Jack and wants to be In The Know about that too.

The half sexual and half Who Knows tension between Jack and Stede during the course is so thick that Stede ends up being one of only two students who don't drop out. The other guy certainly isn't learning what he came here to learn, but by George he sure is learning something. Who knows, maybe he'll end up writing his own thesis on whatever the fuck this is.

Right about the time that there should be an exam or a final project due, Jack and Stede finally fuck for the second time. Stede pretends that Jack is the asshole in this situation and Stede has done nothing wrong ever in his life and had no particular hand in this decision. He does tell on himself as soon as he gets home though.

Ed admits out loud that he misses Jack. That he doesn't understand what his feelings are, because they're not like the feelings he has for Stede or the feelings he has for Izzy, or the feelings he's ever had for anyone else really. But whatever they are, they exist, and they're not going to magically go away because feelings just don't work like that. Izzy makes a bunch of vague, hissing-cat type noises about Jack being around. He doesn't mean it though, not really. He likes having something to be pissy about.

They subsume Jack into the polycule.

The non-monogamy paper becomes a joint study by Stede and Jack. Once again, it's completely academic in nature. Cannot express this enough. Totally objective.

#jack facts #jack chats #ofmd #blackjack #blackhands #blackbonnet #blackhannet #b.. blackhannico? #otplus #hc #my fic #phd (pretty huge dick)

[quotidian-oblivion]

FF ask: if a fic title was "New day, old problems" what would you write in it?

Just came up with that title on the spot and low-key not that bad

I love that title, Vibey. I think i'll call on you next time when i need to title something. Spare the readers from dad jokes for once.

Hmm, let's see. I would write about... ugh i cant think. I'm not in my writers mood rn. Which ask number is this? It's no. 13.

Hmm, i'd write about Tim going through A Day. He keeps being pelted with problems left and right. WE assignments. Overdue tasks. A new case opened up. A mugging that ended up with him getting stabbed. Jason's in the manor today and everyone is on edge as they always are with him. Just problems ad problems and he's getting stressed and stressed.

And then Damian's making a fuss cuz of course he does, he's a little brother and little brothers are legally obligated to get on their older brothers' nerves. So Damian's berating him about something, maybe his inattentiveness cuz he got stabbed in a mugging.

Dick is sending glances at him, unsure of whether or not to interrupt cuz Tim's been real cagey after the whole Bruce gets lost in time fiasco. Speaking of Bruce, they still haven't had that conversation after returning back.

So Tim gets up and walks away from Damian while the kid is still talking and then he trips, but manages to keep from falling, but it shakes his stitches and he's in pain and gets reminded of when he lost his spleen, he was bleeding in the desert and of how alone he felt and how he still feels lonely. He thought everything would be alright. He thought it would all be okay after saving Bruce. But it's not. It's still not okay. He's still alone.

He's always.

Fucking.

Alone.

So he crumples to his knees and his shoulders start shaking and tears start dripping and then the whole Cave freezes. Dick asks what happened and Tim... Tim doesn't have the strength to reply. He bursts into sobs. Openly. He doesn't care anymore.

The whole family gathers around him now, unsure as to how they can reassure him, but Tim throws himself to the person nearest to him. Which was coincidentally Bruce. He sobs into Bruce's arms and the delicate stitches rip and he's bleeding on him as well. But he doesn't care. He's given up now.

It seems that Bruce doesn't care either cuz he isn't showing any signs of letting go. Instead, he starts stroking Tim's hair. And Tim melts.

Snot and tears and drool are leaking everywhere. Tim hasn't cried in a long time. He's almost forgotten the experience.

"What's wrong, chum?" Bruce asks quietly, still running his fingers through his hair.

Tim is about to shake his head, but stops. He doesn't care now, does he? He doesn't care about what answer he gives.

"I feel alone," he whispers, so so quietly. And so so honestly. He's never been this honest before.

Anyway, so then the batfam comforts him blah blah. Damian was actually worried about his brother and didnt know how to express it. Dick too was worried and didnt know how to fix their relationship again. Jason was sorry and he still is cuz it was about time he accepted Tim as his brother. And Bruce... Bruce just wasn't sure if Tim still wanted to be his son.

And so, the batfamily and Tim learn an important lesson. Communication! Which, yk, is something they're sorely missing.

~

Idk if this is too long, but eh. I'm not gonna turn this into a proper fic though, dont really feel like it. If you or anyone else wants to, then thats fine! Give credit where its due and all, but yeah. Hope you like it cuz i literally made it on the spot and im still going through my burnout so idk if this is really that good.

Also, i dont usually write in present tense, i just plan plotlines in it. I mainly write with past tense cuz thats the only tense i feel is easy to be consistent with for me.

Thanks for this question, Vibes, I really liked it!

#quotidian asks #quotidian writes

[062221]

07/08/2022

Today, the sun is comfortable as it melts. I feel like warm honey drying off from the pool. I process while exercising and I can’t tell if it’s working. The pool is salted by tears. I cry and I cry and I cry. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. But I proceed to make my bed and start anew. Happy for evenings like this, the sun kissing my skin, cicadas singing.

Today, I quiver with fear. I am still trying to get in the habit of stepping up one stair at a time. Climbing where? I catch myself losing to the future. A future of uncertainty, uncertainty that affects my present mind. I’m scared I won’t succeed, with the cards I was dealt. How am I supposed to be satisfied in my present? I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I’m glad I’m concerned at least. I’m prideful of my ambition.

Today, the world is cruel. The media is influential, the kids certainly aren’t alright. I am 90% inactive on all social platforms as a result. But I wonder if some people think of me. I wonder about people back home, if they envy the happy life I portray online. I still wonder what a lot of people think of me, so I no longer give them something to think about. I no longer have an excessive need to conform, to desire, or compete with anyone else. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. My life isn’t cookie cutter, and neither are all lives behind each lens. It’s a hard concept to grasp, but I’m learning to simply let go. Especially of jealousy.

Today, I accept that the five stages of grief are present all at once. George is a beautiful relic that I hold onto. He isn’t here but my soul embeds his face into my mind. My heart longs for him, foolishly. I still cry. But I smile. I pray he is well, I hope he is happy and I am glad for my realization that life unfolds and it is okay for people live alternate destinies. I know he doesn’t want me. So I just imagine us- laying out, chain smoking cigarettes, complaining. I imagine the stagnancy we would have, how content I am now that I have no obligation of formfitting to his twisted idea of love anymore. I think of how we still love eachother. I both dread and appreciate that.

Today, my brother is also on my mind. Falling off the horse is no easy task. Getting back up again is harder. To deal with defeat is the hardest. There is no getting back up from a dishonorable discharge. His scenario is almost like dropping out of a bachelors degree just months before graduation. He does have a plan, much like me. He is ambitious, but another as lost boy under the sun. I pray for his strength which prevails. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I hope he isn’t as mentally sick as I am. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I know he is okay in the arms of aunt Sylvia much like I am, just at a distance. I fight the urge to call/burden her but I know she is always available. Busy but always available and always supportive.

My days are emotional rollercoasters, though as the klonopin kicks in, I start to reflect. As I am now, I still carry heavy weight. It manifests in my throat like sobbing, in my heart like breaking, and in my intoxicated facial expression like a night on the town. I wonder, I pray, and sit uncomfortably too often. I slow down and swim into ease knowing all is well and I’m still breathing. It is a gift I am wasting, but a sign of encouragement and perseverence. It is a gift that I am using more frequently, and a gift that I’m learning to use strategically throughout my trek on this road to recovery. Breathing in hardship and breathing out optimism.

And getting inside the house before the mosquitos feast at 8pm

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

#mikey x male reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjirou x male reader #sano manjirou x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjirou #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #chifuyu matsuno

[mr-styles]

Pleasing’s New Campaign Star Mick Fleetwood on the Magic of Harry Styles and Joy of Wearing Nail Polish

“He’s a magical man,” says Harry Styles of Mick Fleetwood, who he counts as a musical hero, close confidante, and now, the new face of his brand, Pleasing. “Mick is someone who brings me–and countless others–great joy,” he continues. “I felt there couldn’t be a better embodiment of Pleasing, or a person who could so naturally capture the wizardry that we love.” Any Fleetwood Mac fan knows the pivotal role that the Fleetwood drummer played not just in forming the band, but holding it together during the making of their landmark 1977 album Rumours amid heartbreak and emotional turmoil. Accordingly, they will know that he’s the perfect free-spirited sorcerer–and force of style–for the job.

The connection of Styles and Fleetwood began as any cross-generational friendship between two music legends does. “My 12-year-old daughters said, ‘Dad we want to go and see Harry Styles!” says Fleetwood with a laugh, recalling the catalyst for him first meeting the British pop singer back in 2014. Obliging the pleas of his twins Ruby and Tessa, he took them to a One Direction concert and subsequent meet and greet at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. Try as Fleetwood did to play “cool dad,” and fly under the radar (at 6′ 5″, no less), Styles, a lifelong Fleetwood Mac fan, immediately came up to him. The group’s iconic song “Dreams” was, after all, one of the first tunes Styles learned as a kid. It's also recently rocketed back into the collective consciousness via TikTok thanks to creator Dogg Face (real name Nathan Apocada), whose viral “Cranberry Dreams” video Fleetwood recreated to further Internet-breaking effect. “Two factions from completely different worlds came together,” continues Fleetwood of the fateful encounter. “Without my girls wanting to see One Direction, we–Stevie [Nicks] and I–never would have met Harry.”

Nor would the 74-year-old rocker have ended up starring in the campaign for Pleasing’s second drop, Shroom Bloom (out March 15th), which figuratively riffs on the theme of magic mushrooms with its groovy product offerings. It features face and nail products, like the Acid Drops Lucid Overnight face serum, hand and nail balm, and four new polish shades, plus psychedelic limited-edition apparel meant to supply, as Styles puts it, “an intoxicating escape-evoking curiosity.” With his distinctive sharp bohemian style, Fleetwood, a self-proclaimed hat enthusiast (“Hats are poetic, romantic; they provide generous amounts of theatrics for an old drama queen like myself,” he once wrote) with a predilection for tailor-made suits and jeans, brings much swagger to the campaign shot at his home in Maui, Hawaii—complete with a cameo from his pet pig, Tilly.

“Pleasing is this experience of, ‘Why not?’ or ‘I’ve never thought of that’—and that’s why I’m part of it,” explains Fleetwood, who views the brand as an empowering tool for self-discovery and self-expression. “It says, here’s something, either literally or figuratively, to hold your hand while we’re all on this journey. That’s what it means to me.” Along with a set of theatrical ensembles, Fleetwood sports an array of colorful manicures in the campaign. Think: a purple top hat paired with matching tiny shades, zebra print loungewear, and stacks of chunky metallic rings with teal digits; or a salmon silk vest layered over a mushroom Pleasing T-shirt and indigo trousers, topped off with glossy cherry red nails.

Ahead of his Pleasing debut, Vogue caught up with Fleetwood, speaking over the phone from his other Hawaiian home on the island of Moloka‘i. From the way he waxes eloquent about Styles and his impactful Pleasing mission, and the likeness he draws between the counterculture of the ’60s and today’s Gen Z-fueled Youthquake, it’s no wonder that he and Styles are kindred spirits.

Read the full article on Vogue

#harry styles #mick Fleetwood #pleasing

[kingstylesdaily]

Pleasing’s New Campaign Star Mick Fleetwood on the Magic of Harry Styles and Joy of Wearing Nail Polish

“He’s a magical man,” says Harry Styles of Mick Fleetwood, who he counts as a musical hero, close confidante, and now, the new face of his brand, Pleasing. “Mick is someone who brings me–and countless others–great joy,” he continues. “I felt there couldn’t be a better embodiment of Pleasing, or a person who could so naturally capture the wizardry that we love.” Any Fleetwood Mac fan knows the pivotal role that the Fleetwood drummer played not just in forming the band, but holding it together during the making of their landmark 1977 album Rumours amid heartbreak and emotional turmoil. Accordingly, they will know that he’s the perfect free-spirited sorcerer–and force of style–for the job.

The connection of Styles and Fleetwood began as any cross-generational friendship between two music legends does. “My 12-year-old daughters said, ‘Dad we want to go and see Harry Styles!” says Fleetwood with a laugh, recalling the catalyst for him first meeting the British pop singer back in 2014. Obliging the pleas of his twins Ruby and Tessa, he took them to a One Direction concert and subsequent meet and greet at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. Try as Fleetwood did to play “cool dad,” and fly under the radar (at 6′ 5″, no less), Styles, a lifelong Fleetwood Mac fan, immediately came up to him. The group’s iconic song “Dreams” was, after all, one of the first tunes Styles learned as a kid. It's also recently rocketed back into the collective consciousness via TikTok thanks to creator Dogg Face (real name Nathan Apocada), whose viral “Cranberry Dreams” video Fleetwood recreated to further Internet-breaking effect. “Two factions from completely different worlds came together,” continues Fleetwood of the fateful encounter. “Without my girls wanting to see One Direction, we–Stevie [Nicks] and I–never would have met Harry.”

[full article under the cut]

Nor would the 74-year-old rocker have ended up starring in the campaign for Pleasing’s second drop, Shroom Bloom (out March 15th), which figuratively riffs on the theme of magic mushrooms with its groovy product offerings. It features face and nail products, like the Acid Drops Lucid Overnight face serum, hand and nail balm, and four new polish shades, plus psychedelic limited-edition apparel meant to supply, as Styles puts it, “an intoxicating escape-evoking curiosity.” With his distinctive sharp bohemian style, Fleetwood, a self-proclaimed hat enthusiast (“Hats are poetic, romantic; they provide generous amounts of theatrics for an old drama queen like myself,” he once wrote) with a predilection for tailor-made suits and jeans, brings much swagger to the campaign shot at his home in Maui, Hawaii—complete with a cameo from his pet pig, Tilly.

“Pleasing is this experience of, ‘Why not?’ or ‘I’ve never thought of that’—and that’s why I’m part of it,” explains Fleetwood, who views the brand as an empowering tool for self-discovery and self-expression. “It says, here’s something, either literally or figuratively, to hold your hand while we’re all on this journey. That’s what it means to me.” Along with a set of theatrical ensembles, Fleetwood sports an array of colorful manicures in the campaign. Think: a purple top hat paired with matching tiny shades, a custom zebra print suit by S.S. Daley, and stacks of chunky metallic rings with teal digits; or a salmon silk vest layered over a mushroom Pleasing T-shirt and indigo trousers, topped off with glossy cherry red nails.

Ahead of his Pleasing debut, Vogue caught up with Fleetwood, speaking over the phone from his other Hawaiian home on the island of Moloka‘i. From the way he waxes eloquent about Styles and his impactful Pleasing mission, and the likeness he draws between the counterculture of the ’60s and today’s Gen Z-fueled Youthquake, it’s no wonder that he and Styles are kindred spirits.

I’d love to hear about how you first connected with Harry?

The magical mystery tour started probably eight years ago. I took my daughters, Ruby and Tessa, who were 12, to see one of the last One Direction shows at the Rose Bowl. Very generously, their organization made it possible for us to go backstage for one of those meet and greets. If you’re a kid around your parents, you want mom and dad to disappear. But what happened was immediately Harry and the band started hovering around me while I’m trying to hide and get out of the way and be the dad that wasn’t there. [Laughs] Eventually, the girls realized Dad was actually causing a bit of a commotion. Anyways, that’s when Harry and I first met. We really connected because it turned out Harry had been brought up around Fleetwood Mac’s music when he was a child. And so on and off for years we’ve had this passing in the night relationship, which has included him doing Fleetwood Mac songs and doing countless little and big things with Stevie.

Stevie Nicks once said Harry was like the “love child” between you two? Why do you think she puts it that way?

Stevie has a great sense of humor! The fact is Stevie and I have been in a band for, well, 50 years really and she’s an incredibly close friend of mine. She’s an adventurer! She is also the godmother of Ruby and Tessa. I think Harry and Stevie first met at a show or something. He knew it was around her birthday and he walks into her dressing room with her favorite cake. I thought, “How cool is that?!” It wasn’t arranged by someone else, he had it in a little box with him. That’s who he is.

What do you love about him as a person and musician, particularly within today’s landscape?

When I came back from meeting him that day, we had a connection that was driven by music. That became the magical part of it, which continues today. As a person, he was incredibly kind and thoughtful right from the beginning. Having come from such a tidal wave of attention, and to still remain that normal…I really gravitated towards his lack of ego. Coming from the band he was in was probably a real challenge for him, for anybody, and I could identify–not with the same thing, no one could imagine what they went through. It was literally like being in the Beatles.

Surely, though, you can relate with Fleetwood Mac, especially when things exploded with Rumours?

One of the earliest conversations that Harry and I had, and one that continues today, is he looks at a band, entity, or a person, and think “What allowed that to keep going? What allowed it not to lose the plot, even with challenges?” That, as you know, is Fleetwood Mac’s story. He identified with that and thought, “If that’s possible, then I can hold on to what I feel is true and what my next step will be not only as a musician, but very, very much as a person.” And that’s what I think is magical and meaningful about Harry Styles.

What was it like shooting the Pleasing campaign, and what do you love about Maui as its location?

I loved every moment of it. It was a hoot! I was originally gonna do it in L.A., but because of COVID, the original photo session never happened. With that being the case, the next thing that I said is, “Well, I’m gonna be going home!” And they loved the idea of doing it here. It went incredibly well. Everyone was really on mark about what to do and how to do it. And I just remained open, pitching in and finding hats to put on. And I told Molly [Hawkins, Styles’s creative director], I said, “I'm so into doing this!” And the fact that it was somewhere that I really love...Everyone has their home and their own versions of where they like to be and why they like being there. Mine are selfishly explicit. Hawaii’s a very beautiful place and I'm happy to be here. So having that be connected to what we were doing selfishly was great.

Your colorful painted nails were a particular highlight. Have you worn nail polish before?

Oh, I loved that. I kept the varnish on for two weeks! Back in the day in London, I used to wear near polish and all sorts of stuff, and the attitude was, “so what?” It didn’t have anything to do with sexuality. It’s not about that. It's about having fun. If you look at half the tribes of ancient history, men and women all dress up in beautiful, colorful things. No one thinks anything one way or the other, which is the point. During the shoot I noticed some of the nail colors were really muted, like the light blue and the pinks and the greens. I said, “You might wanna pick one of the red colors!” About three or four days after the shoot was over. I still had the nail varnish on and thought, I can actually see where my hands are going. I’m not kidding you! It’s really useful, and I thought, “I’m not taking this stuff off!” When you pick a glass up, you actually connect with what you’re doing, which is what style is all about.

Speaking of style, you’ve always had it in spades. You seem to really have fun with fashion and never limit yourself. What’s your personal style philosophy?

Style, to me, is taking the trouble to present yourself. Sometimes presenting myself means I just walk out in a T-shirt and a pair of pumps. Conversely, it can also mean I've spent an hour thinking about what I'm gonna wear. That to me is very human. It gets back to what we've been talking about: Why not think about that you're presenting yourself? It's all about suggestions of style. It’s like with music, you go, “If I hadn't heard that music when I was 10, I might not have written that song when I was 20.” And that is all part of the story. What you see in the presentation of Pleasing is they're very, very simple, but demonstrative options. The way I think of it is: Why not? What makes someone think that something's weird?

Pleasing is part of a bigger movement towards genderless style and beauty—one that I’d argue, you and your peers helped pioneer in the late ’60s and ’70s. Have you noticed the evolution? What excites you about seeing a new generation feel free to experiment and express themselves more freely?

That’s a really astute observation. When I think about what happened in my generation, we had a sense of freedom, a sense of feeling that what had happened before didn't need to be repeated. Millions and millions of people in my world, our generation, saw that, felt that…But imagine the ‘60s right now with social media. One might be so bold as to say that slightly naive pipe dream of everyone not being judgmental might spread like wildfire. Being reminded of that premise, I think there's a huge amount of similarity now asking, “Why not? What gives you the right to close me down?” It’s not confrontational. It's just, why would you want to do that to anybody or anything? In our time, if someone went to a concert with blue paint all over their face, you go, “How cool is that?” You wouldn't say one thing or the other. That's how I've always felt. Don't be judgemental and have fun with it. That’s what Pleasing represents.

With Pleasing’s missions of bringing joy to beauty and going beyond the gender binary, what do you envision for its future?

I have a sneaking suspicion that this is just the beginning of a real lovely journey. It’s the first page of the book that Harry’s seeing can be written and he doesn’t need to know how it ends up. I think it’s really important to have these stages that are set that allow the creative process to go where it needs to go.

So let’s talk beauty as a form of self-care. Do you consider your personal regimen ritualistic?

It's fairly that way. When I’m out working, working, working, which, in truth I haven't been doing too much of in the last two or three years, like most other people, it's more focused. With COVID lockdown, the backdrop of it is that you need to have a form of discipline. A year into COVID, I realized that I should pull my socks up. Eventually, I went, “You need not give up on taking care of yourself. You need not give up with finding new avenues, new ways to have fun to present yourself.” That type of theater I think is really important. And so there is a routine and I'm much more aware of it. I don't think I’m the best one in the world at doing it, but it's become a regimen. I'm actually more disciplined about self-worth, self-presentation, and the theater of, “Why you do take care of yourself?” or “Why you do put a mirror up, not literally, but a mirror where you go, ‘I need that?’” The past two years have been a reminder of why I need to take time out.

At this moment, what excites you most about the future?

I'm looking forward to more music! One of the things we started off right at the beginning of the interview is the fact that this conversation was happening because of the connection through music and something that both myself and certainly Harry’s world are completely connected to that allow all these lovely things to happen. And I think that's really the overview, the backdrop to this is music and being creative. It’s part of a really fun journey we’re on, and I can’t wait to see where it might go.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

courtesy of vogue.com

[goingmorry]

Hellooo I love your writing soooo much >>•<<

Could you please write headcanons of ASL sister introducing Smoker as her fiancé ? Thank you so much !

[One Piece Headcanons] ASL Brothers -> when you introduce Smoker as your fiancé

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Smoker

Tags: female reader, overprotective brothers

Author's Note: Thank you for the cute request! I got carried away and added short scenarios for each brother's reaction and a little extra at the end. I hope you like it! 💖

PORTGAS D. ACE

Goes from 😯 to 😡 to 🤬

Ace.exe has stopped working.

He's the 2nd Division Commander of the esteemed Whitebeard Pirates; who in their right mind would think it would be a good idea for him — the son of the late Pirate King — to meet a Marine Vice-Admiral?

Cue war flashbacks of when Garp showered him, Luffy, and Sabo with his "fists of love" for sharing their childhood dreams of becoming pirates.

Goes through all seven stages of grief and complains to Sabo every single time.

Threatens Smoker every chance he gets. The Marine Vice-Admiral repays in kind when you're not around.

Doesn't warm up to the idea of you and Smoker as a couple except on your wedding day.

"Behave yourself," you whisper to your fiancé, soft hands tightly gripping his muscular bicep in warning.

"I'm on my best behavior. It's your brother who needs to behave," Smoker says bluntly, brown eyes observing the freckled pirate's reaction to you and your beau's interlocked arms.

Ace stares, and stares, and stares — at his little sister and the familiar white-haired man he encountered early on during his journey to Alabasta — dumbfounded at the scene before him.

"Fire Fist," the Marine Vice-Admiral calls out, breaking him from his reverie.

"You—" Ace yells, flames erupting from the tips of his fingers to rapidly engulf his entire first.

Before your fiancé can return your fiery brother's sudden display of aggression, you step in between their bodies, eyes alight with fury.

"Stop it!" you scold Ace, extending your pointer finger and thumb to pinch his ear in retaliation.

He frowns at you, but obliges, flames extinguishing from his curled fist. "We need to talk. Now."

Not waiting for your response, Ace saunters off toward his bedroom at the other end of the hallway, posture stiff and robotic. To anyone, outsider or not, it was evident from Ace's appearance and demeanor that the usually friendly pirate was clearly not in a good mood.

"Just wait here. I won't be long," you say to Smoker before dashing off in pursuit of your freckled brother.

When you close the door to his bedroom, Ace begins his tirade, arms crossed against his bare chest as he faces your more petite frame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You look at him in bewilderment but don't say a word, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Him! That—that big oaf! There are millions of men in this world! And it has to be him? I don't approve!" Ace doesn't stop himself from frantically gesturing at the closed door — the only piece of barrier, aside from him, of course — separating you from your fiancé.

You frown at Ace's insult, adopting a defensive stance. "Don't call him that! And I don't need your permission, you know. Why are you acting like this?"

"You're my little sister! Of course, I'm concerned!" Ace adjusts himself from the desk he was leaning on. "Do you know what he's done to Luffy?"

You shakily exhale at his accusatory tone. "I know! We've talked about this. He's promised to look the other way when it comes to our family."

"And you believe him?"

"Of course, I do! He hasn't given me any reason to doubt him."

"He's not exactly husband material," Ace interjects, to which you roll your eyes. At this point, it was apparent to you that your big brother was grasping at straws, finding reasons — however shallow they may be — to make you reconsider this marriage.

"He dresses better than you, that's for sure," you say childishly.

Ace's eyebrows furrow, taking great offense to your statement. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"Have you seen yourself? You're always strutting around like you own the place. Shirtless and all," you comment, scrunching up your nose in disgust. "Have some common decency at least."

"He's not wearing a shirt either!" Ace says indignantly.

"No, but he has a jacket—"

"That he leaves open all the time, which basically makes it useless," Ace argues, "Why bother if you're not even gonna wear it properly?"

"Argh, forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore," you say, burying your face in your hands.

Ace takes the hint, feeling guilty as he walks over to your defeated form to rub circles on your back slowly.

A truce, for now.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later, when you return from Ace's bedroom, you find your fiancé calmly sitting on the corner of the couch. Without a word, you plop down beside him and rest your head on the crook of his shoulder.

Smoker takes a deep drag of his cigars, observing your distraught appearance and the lack of a certain cowboy-hat-wearing pirate. "Well, that went well."

SABO

Goes from 😟 to 😩 to 😭

Dies a little bit on the inside.

His precious little sister finally finds love, and who's her betrothed? The infamous White Hunter himself.

He expected this behavior from Ace, but you?

Discreetly pulls you aside to express his disapproval.

Learns to cope and eventually warms up to your relationship with the Marine. How can he not when you look so happy?

De-escalates arguments between Ace and your lover every single time.

"Sabo!" You pull your big brother into an embrace which he reciprocates.

When the blond Revolutionary notices the white-haired man standing behind you, he stiffens, gloved hand reaching behind his back to clasp his metal pipe.

Noticing your older brother's sudden alertness, you nudge his side in reassurance. "This is the fiancé I've been telling you about."

Sabo quickly puts two and two together. All those conversations you've had with him, and not once did you mention that you were engaged to an officer of the Marines. And not just any Marine officer, you were engaged to the Commander of the notorious G-5 base.

In an effort to remain composed, Sabo forces a half-hearted smile — appearing more like a grimace really, but an action you appreciated nonetheless - and extends his right arm to your fiancé for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you."

Ignoring the daggers you were glaring at the side of his face, Smoker hesitantly grips the blond Revolutionary's hand. "Pleasure," he grunts out, letting out a puff of white smoke from his cigars.

For a moment, the two men clasp at each other's hand in a show of fake camaraderie.

Choosing to ignore the growing tension thick in the air, you clap your hands together in mock enthusiasm.

"Great! Let's meet the rest of the family, shall we?"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Goes from 😁 to 😊 to 🥳

The only one who's okay with your relationship with Smoker.

He's survived having Garp, the Hero of the Marines, as his grandfather; he can certainly handle an additional Marine in the family.

Gets along with your fiancé the best, though Smoker himself denies this.

"Woah, what's Smokey doing here?" Luffy says in awe, looking back and forth between you and the Marine.

You tap your feet in nervousness, gesturing between Smoker and your youngest brother.

"Luffy, this is my fiancé. Smoker, this is my little brother."

"I know who Straw Hat Luffy is," Smoker says impatiently, barely glancing at the pirate standing a few feet in front of him.

"You haven't been formally introduced to each other, have you?" you say indignantly, hips cocked to one side as you stare at your fiancé's tepid behavior.

"In a normal setting, I mean," you clarify, "You chasing him and his crew does NOT count."

Smoker shrugs at your accusation, and you sigh.

Luffy laughs at your scolding, looking up at the Marine. "It's okay. I meant what I said in Alabasta. I don't hate you, y'know?"

You smile at your little brother's statement. You could always count on Luffy to be accepting of your partner, whoever they may be. Also, he wasn't the type to dwell on the past, preferring instead to live in the moment. And that moment was your engagement to the Marine Vice-Admiral, the same man who used to hunt Luffy and his crew throughout the Grand Line for being wanted criminals.

'Tsk' is all Smoker says to the straw hat pirate's proclamation, earning a disapproving pinch to his side from you.

"Be nice," you whisper harshly to your fiancé's ear.

The sound of your little brother's joyous laughter is enough for the normally serious Marine to let out a small smile.

BONUS BELOW LMAO

MONKEY D. GARP

Goes from 😌 to 🥰 to 🤗

T H R I L L E D that his grandson-in-law is a respectable Marine.

The epitome of Proud Father Figure™

Compares the ASL brothers to Smoker every chance he gets during family reunions.

"Y'hear that Luffy? Smoker just caught a band of no-good pirates terrorizing the local townsfolk." Luffy picks his nose in acknowledgment.

Garp points an accusatory finger at Ace. "You damn brat, why couldn't you listen to me and become a Marine like I told you to?"

Garp gives a disapproving glare to Sabo. "And you! Why'd you have to join the shady Revolutionaries and become a wanted criminal like my son?"

Garp proceeds to give the ASL brothers multiple rounds of his fists of love. Meanwhile, he smooches your forehead in happiness for finding a suitable husband.

You and Smoker live happily ever after. The end.

#one piece #smoker x reader #monkey d. luffy #portgas d. ace #sabo #asl brothers #monkey d. garp #one piece writing #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #mywriting

[alluringjae]

it’s a royal order - jjh

⤑ summary: one of your royal campaigns became a success, and your bodyguard jaehyun was there to see it all happen. it’s only fair to celebrate, right?

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 2k

⤑ genre: fluff, suggestive (dirty talk, jaehyun got a daddy kink, superiority complex!!), implied smut | bodyguard!jaehyun, princess!reader, slight enemies to lovers!au, modern royal!au (where south korea remains under monarchial power)

⤑ warnings: mentions of alcohol, drugs, family problems and therapy, explicit language

⤑ playlist: lows by pink sweat$ | céline by gallant | i put a spell on you by iza | nasty by ariana grande | dance for you by beyonce | body by sinead harnett

⤑ author’s note: this is definitely less emotional than all i do is wait! i got this idea from a show i really enjoyed before it got cancelled named the royals. specifically, i really liked the story of eleanor and jasper, which is the whole princess x bodyguard dynamic. the pining and tension, ugh! if you know this show or not, it doesn’t matter. anyways, thank you for the 30+ followers and 200 notes on aidiw! enjoy!

i need holy water because of this piece.

⤑ credits to jeongjaehyuns for the gif above uwu

⤑  leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

“On behalf of the royal family, I would like to extend my utmost support for the Anti-School Violence campaign for all students to have a safer and more meaningful learning environment.” You proudly announced to the board of officials alongside other influential individuals in Korean society.

Being the only princess in the current royal line may have its pressures, but holding a strong, direct impact for a brighter future for the people motivated you to take advantage of your platform for the better. As the image of pure innocence and revamped women empowerment, you aimed to accomplish all the things your mother wished she could before her untimely death alongside your personal aspirations.

Expressing genuine joy with the campaign, with a tinge of desire to annoy the old-fashioned and closeminded officials, your prying eyes were more enamored by a certain man in the back clapping by the ballroom doors. You can’t help but act flustered whenever he witnessed you in a state of success and satisfaction.

This man went by the name Jeong Jaehyun, your trusted bodyguard since you were in your early twenties. 3 years later, he still stuck by your side and helped you endure all the darkness as a royal.

Back then, you went through a rebellious phase that was ruining the image of your family. Clubbing almost every night, drugs, skipping school, you even managed to get all assigned bodyguards to quit! The media ate up all your tricks, turning them into scandals. That was the plan, of course. You desired your own freedom from all the royal obligations because you didn’t ask to be born into that lifestyle. To all of your peers who wished to be in your footsteps, you would’ve impulsively passed your title to them. There’s so much deception that lies behind the glitz and glam of it all.

This unexpected change in your former untainted attitude came to the point that your father, the king himself, stepped in and personally assigned one of his men to get you in check. He figured that appointing a guard nearest your age may lessen the tension and mend you back together.

In the start, you absolutely despised him. There was no way to fool him when you were up to no good. He easily found your alcohol and drug stash which he disposed of on the spot and stood by your bedroom door every night so you wouldn’t sneak out past curfew (which your father also strictly implemented).

One big turning point in your relationship was when he rushed you to the royal hospital when you drank a cocktail that went unnoticeably spiked. To think that this was a typical social gathering with other royals and officials, you’re a constant target to many. You didn’t wake up for a few days, and the entire time, Jaehyun willingly stood by your bedside and outside your hospital room.

Since that and more instances your father insisted you get involved in royal affairs, you softened up. As cliché as it was, the more time spent with him, the more you knew about him and vice versa. He was the one that got you to fully open up about your grief towards your late mother, encouraging you to seek help. Turns out you weren’t as different as you thought despite your differing ranks in society when he also had a void for a missing parent. In his case, it was his father, who ditched his family for his mistress. Silently, you helped each other recover from your traumas alongside therapy. From dreading his presence, you started treating him more casually. Your father’s tactic of assigning a bodyguard around your age admittedly worked.

Oh, how time flies.

This campaign was the last thing on your weekend agenda, so you had the entire late afternoon and evening to yourself. Bowing one last time to the audience, you stepped down from the platform and accepted the soft hand of your bodyguard, who quickly made his way to you despite the flashing cameras. It was something he got used to as it is part of the job.

Once he successfully ushered you out of the ballroom, his hand still held yours. Nothing new, except this event was quite public and you didn’t want anyone to get any wrong ideas. Strolling down one of the many hallways in the palace became a pastime for the both of you, where no one can catch you. It was a safe haven within the destructive life of the Park kingdom.

“You did phenomenal as I expected, your highness.” Jaehyun complimented, recalling your panic the night before as the stage fright hit strong when you were reciting your speech to him over and over again.

“We are in private, Jaehyun. Must you really use those formalities with me?” You taunted, bobbing your head sideways mockingly. With him could you felt like a normal young adult, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Jaehyun loved being frisky with you, catching you get irked up. And he was up to do it again.

“Hmm last time we strolled these halls, Yuta caught us making out after a successful meeting with the Prime Minister.”

You gasped at his statement, conscious of whoever may be in the vicinity. But before you could refute, your hand that was interlocked with his were mightily slammed against the white wall. You lost your breath for a moment, his warm body closely on yours. His free hand freely roamed up and down your covered waist. His lips were dangerously near your neck, where you’re sensitive. Your hips naturally grinded against him to release the pent-up tension.

“Something tells me you want to do it again, princess?” Now he’s just using your title as a pet name, but you couldn’t complain. It just hits differently when the situation was set up like this.

“I deserve it, don’t I? Got a lot of those hell-driven officials on my side for this round.” You raised both your brows cockily, licking your lips.

“Hell yeah, you do.” Finally, he rids of the tension and plants open kisses on your bare neck. Your throaty moans were uncontrollable, and you could care less.

“My princess,”

Kiss.

“So intelligent,”

Kiss.

“So benevolent,”

Kiss.

“So helpful,”

Kiss.

“But,” He changed his pace and direction, swollen lips near your ear.

“But?” You question naïvely. He scoffed, smirking at your antics of playing dumb.

“But a total slut for her bodyguard.” He dominantly planted his lips against yours, one of his veiny hands gripping on your waist and the other by the arch of your butt. He was hungry, needy even. Due to your shared schedules, it’s been a constant struggle to have proper alone time from the snooping eyes of Korean society. After all, it wasn’t in the norm for a princess to fall deep for her bodyguard. Nor were you sure you would be accepted by anyone. Yuta, the bodyguard of your oldest brother, the crowned prince Jinyoung, finding the both of you at that time was a total shock but didn’t care either.

All that mattered was that your feelings towards each other are real and strong. Accepted or not, you had each other.

All this lust put you in a daze, wanting much more than another smooch fest in the hallway. Tugging on his belt, he squeezed your butt tightly. You emitted a moan, which allowed his tongue access. No way could you keep your hands to yourself, touching his upper body and the flexing of his abdominal muscles from his button-up. You felt his now hard member poking through.

Analyzing your area, you were on the other side of the palace. Farther to your bedroom where numerous rendezvouses were made, one kink you’ve considered in the past amplified your mind. Considering this area was also the king’s side, and he was abroad for royal affairs, this was your chance.

“I have an idea, my love. You up for it?” You rose a brow at your lover, challenging him. Not one to overpower this man in bed, but always suggesting a way on how to spice it up.

“And what exactly does your feral brain want to do with me, princess?” His finger lifted your chin so you meet eye to eye. You can just see the fire still burning, and oh how you were ready to intensify it.

“The main ballroom, where my father and late mother’s throne rest, are a few doors away.” Your fingers signal him to lower his stance as his tall height was difficult to reach. With a sneaky smirk,

“Let me ride you in the king’s throne, my love.” Your lips brushed over his and sucked his bottom lip, tugging him by his belt. He groaned, squeezing your butt. “It’s a royal order.”  

“Nasty, your highness. Insanely nasty, you are.” His hands hoisted your waist, boosting you up in his arms. You gasped with profanities, ravenously cut off by his lips again. His nails digging deep in your bare thighs, your legs naturally linked themselves around his torso while your arms passionately intertwined his broad neck.

In between kisses, he carried you to the said main ballroom. One of your wildest imaginations, just a second away. This room remained to be the only place without any guards stationed technological advancements or updated interior designs to preserve its traditional beauty. Dated as far as the 19th century, only special events were held and the highest of the high were allowed inside. Spacious, surrounded by gold linings majestic paintings of angels from above with a huge crystal chandelier right above the center. Right ahead, the original thrones that your ancestors, grandparents, and parents sat on when they were throned in its pure glory.

Pushing your lover on the king’s throne, the gold sun-like rays plastered behind the headrest, he cockily leaned back and manspread his legs for comfort. He rubbed his hands before patting his thigh, waiting for your submission. But you weren’t going to give in just yet.

Not when you prepared a mini-show just for him underneath your designer silk dress.

Jaehyun’s solemn eyes marveled over your gorgeous figure as you stripped down one strap after the other. Due to its silk fabric, it effortlessly dropped down to your figure to reveal a new set of black lace lingerie from your previous trip to Paris. Ages ago, Jaehyun unhesitatingly ripped your favorite ones during his birthday, so you decided to get a mature version of it. A version where your bra lifted your breasts more and undies hiked up to your waist to elongate your legs. Only for the eyes of yourself and the man in front of you, establishing that you were a powerful woman who can be absolutely anyone she can be. Princess, a normal young adult, or his slut, it’s up to you how you see yourself.

Jaehyun mumbled all the profanities he could think of at the moment. Looking like a divine angel when the sun from outside shuns behind you, his slacks tightening so much more than a while ago.

“All this for me?” He ogled shamelessly, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt and untying his necktie. “What did I do to deserve such regal treatment?”

You sneered at his comment, stepping out your dress in your heels and stationing right in front of his luring lap. “You’ve always been there for me, thick and thin. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Lowering yourself to straddle him, his breath hissed when your damp core collided with his crotch. Distracted and caught in your trap, “I don’t think you answered my question, my love.”

Rather than a verbal response, he roughly pulled you back in for a kiss. His hands scattered to explore from your back down to your waist. Your hands messily ran through his hair, tugging on some when your body got too sensitive to his wild touches. The thrilling sounds of the two of you drowning in your fiery romance bounced throughout the ballroom, not minding if anyone passed by the hallways outside. It was a private room after all, and whatever happens here, stays here.

Rolling on his crotch while his lips trailed down to your collarbones, the quick snap of your bra wires echoed. The tight lift lessened as Jaehyun’s fingers dropped the straps, unveiling your bare chest covered in his marks.

“Enough playing, princess. Let daddy have some real fun with you.”

#bye im descending #nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines