#and it's not entitled of you to expect them to damn well try. it is not on you to do all the labor of chewing their food up for them

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Girl dad Astarion who is mourning the times when his biggest problem was coming up with more or less child-friendly excuses to not read yet another bedtime story. Or to fix the dress of a shabby old doll that gave him the creeps. Or to kiss some scratches better, even though the minuscule wounds usually troubled him more than they did the damn child. 

Nobody ever told him that children grow up this fucking fast, okay?

But now he has to watch his darling little girl grow into a beautiful young woman, and he is—quite frankly—terrified for her. 

Because wherever he looks, he can see that strangers are watching her, too. 

It doesn’t even bother him that they notice his daughter’s beauty, no, you would have to be blind not to see it. She’s stunning—obviously. She's his child after all…and Tav’s, of course, but that’s not the point. 

It’s the way they're looking at the girl that disgusts Astarion to his very core. Leering eyes following her every move. Ulterior motives buried under layers of false niceties. Seemingly innocent little touches stolen as if those filthy hands were entitled to her body in any way. 

And for all their obnoxious gawking, they don’t even see her. They seldom care for his daughter’s talents, her sense of humour, or her intelligence. Her heart.

Those heads are only turning for a pretty face, and for all the small privileges that might afford her, they always come with a price—a price Astarion has paid once upon a time; a price he doesn’t ever want his daughter to even consider accepting.

But the world is not kind. It’s already leaving scratches on his child that neither he nor Tav can kiss better any longer. 

And Astarion hates it because the last time he felt this helpless was when his own pretty face was all that kept him, well, as alive as he could be. A thing to be used for other people's gain. Selling himself out for crumbs.

And then, one day, he notices a new bracelet on his daughter’s wrist. 

She happily hands it over to him so he can take a look. Then she tells him some stranger gifted it to her. Just like that! 

All they wanted for it was a little smile—isn’t that so great, father? 

It’s not. Far from it. Astarion is fuming inside. 

How dare some random nitwit think that ugly trinket worthy of his daughter’s wonderful smile? The audacity. The nerve. Unbelievable! 

“Darling, it’s not a gift if they’re expecting something in return,” a forced smile tugs at his lips, trying to soften his scolding tone.

It doesn’t work.

“But it’s so pretty, I had to have it!” 

The girl sulks, her little nose scrunched up as if he just sent her to bed without her fairy tales. Astarion supposes, in a way, he has.

“And what do we do when we see something we want, dear?” 

She rolls her eyes at him in a way that always has Tav cackling up. Maybe it's because, in moments like this, she looks a little too much like her father. 

“We just pocket it.”

“Exactly, my darling child, we just pocket it,” Astarion nods approvingly. “And if they ask for a smile next time?”

“We stab them,” she sighs.

“Absolutely, we do. Now, off with you, lest your daggers get all rusty, you lazy duck.” 

Ending the discussion with a gentle smile, Astarion watches the girl go before he produces the offending bracelet from his sleeve. 

It’s always out of sight, out of mind with pretty things, isn't it?

He takes another look at the bracelet, scrunching up his nose as if it gave off a particularly vile smell. In a way, it does.

In fact, it’s giving Astarion the creeps. And it's not even made from real gold, by the way.

Astarion scoffs at the cheap trinket. This child still has so much to learn.  

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dadstarion #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate astarion #astarion ancunin #to the best worst dad #astarion father of the year every year #being perceived is pain #girlhood in a nutshell

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: heat waves

summary: after a bad date, you find yourself on carmy's doorstep. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: so much pining you may be entitled to compensation after reading this, swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19, eventual smut.

word count: 3.5k

listen to: i like me better - lauv | ceilings - lizzy mcalpine | heat waves - glass animals (i'm sorry but this song invented sexual tension. full stop.) better than i know myself - del water gap

read: chapter two

“sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of june…” (heat waves – glass animals)

*

June 2021

You: Hey, I’m in your neighborhood. You around?

Carmy: Yeah, what’s up?

You: Want some company?

Carmy: 👍

You: Heading your way.

Carmy: It started raining. Be careful.

You: I noticed. Thanks, dad. 

Carmy: 🙄

You’re not ready to go home yet as you head towards Carmy’s apartment. You’re not sure why you thought it was a good idea to download a dating app the other week… and you’re trying your best not to read into the fact that your first thought was to reach out to Carmy. Hesitant to tell him, you figure you’ll just surprise him by showing up like this – all dressed up. 

It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. He probably won’t even notice, you think to yourself. 

You hope he just doesn’t say anything – so that you don’t have to tell him you were on a date – but as soon as the torrential downpour starts, there’s no way he won’t say anything. You're only a block and a half away, so you decide to power through, storm be damned. 

“Woah,” he says, as soon as he opens the door.

“‘Looks like you got caught in the rain’ woah, or…like a ‘you look overdressed’ kinda woah?” you ask back, your hair beginning to drip on the carpet. 

“Both?” he offers up, trying his best to make it seem like he’s not checking you out. “You’re uh… fancy.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, not sure how much you’re going to reveal. It’s just not something you’ve really talked about yet and you’re ambivalent about how he may react. Hell, you’re ambivalent about how you feel about it too. 

But Carmy hasn’t invited you in yet either, blocking your pathway as he tries not to make it blatantly obvious that he’s gawking at you. “I uh… sort of had a date.”

“Oh,” he mutters, before stepping aside to invite you in. 

He takes a beat, watching you carefully as you enter his apartment. 

“How’d it go?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Uh… not great,” you admit, with a shrug. “But I’m not sure what I expected either. Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Oh! Yeah sure,” he nods, hurrying into his bedroom. 

Carmy mentally scolds himself for even asking. Would you really be here on his doorstep if it had gone well? He knows the answer, but what feels unfamiliar is the tight feeling that’s lodged itself in his chest. 

He wonders when you started dating. It’s not like you’d said anything about it to him. It’s not like you owed it to him to say anything either. Were you on those apps he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around? Or maybe one of those investment banker fuckos that had come into the restaurant a few weeks ago. He’d been this close to burning the whole place down when he noticed one of them practically undressing you with their eyes as you’d walked by from your visit with another table.

Carmy returns to you with a pair of sweatpants and one of his pristine white t-shirts, his eyes fixed on you as you remove your shoes. The kitchen overhead is the only light that’s on, leaving most of the apartment lit only by the TV. You can see a few cigarette butts that have been aimlessly thrown across the ashtray he keeps on his coffee table, and you know he’s been smoking tonight. 

“Pasta Grannies?” is all you ask, gesturing towards the TV. 

“Yeah,” he nods. It’s as if he’s just remembered that he’s holding a dry pair of clothes for you, a look of panic plastered on his face. “Shit. I forgot. Here.”

“Thanks, Carm,” you say, taking them and disappearing into the bathroom for a quick change. 

You examine your reflection in the mirror as you wring the excess water from your hair right into the sink. You take your time, tying your hair into a bun over the top of your head, immediately feeling at ease now that you’re here with him. While most of your makeup is gone, swept away by the rain, you feel much more like yourself in a pair of Carmy’s sweatpants that you ever felt in a fancy dress on that date. You hang your very wet dress over the shower curtain rod in Carmy’s bathroom to dry, before opening the door to rejoin him in the living room. 

Carmy’s returned to the couch, his feet kicked up on the outside of the couch as he stretches out across it. 

“Much better,” you comment, making your way towards him. 

You settle into the couch with Carmy, curled up apart on opposite sides of the couch. It’s a comfortable pattern you’ve fallen into: hanging out, watching movies till 3 am while he smokes a few cigarettes to unwind from the day. You like this rhythm. And you like that it’s with him. 

As another episode of Pasta Grannies begins, Carmy’s mind continues to race. He’s wracking his brain for any excuse to bring it up again – this whole, you dating thing. 

He searches your face for any kind of in. He’s not sure what he’s looking for: a furrowed brow, a sigh of frustration, a look of dissatisfaction? Something he can ask about so that you’ll tell him more about your night. But as he examines you closely, trying his best to get a read on you, iit seems as if you’ve forgotten all about it, comfortably curled up on his shitty $50 dollar couch that he’d found at Goodwill. 

“So… what was so bad about this date?” he finally manages to get out, surprising you. 

You shrug, carelessly, “Men suck.”

Your answer makes him chuckle as he agrees with a, “Yeah, we do.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s asking. You and Carmy had never really talked about dating – save for a few stories about your exes here and there. You got the impression that Carmy hadn’t dated a lot at all, nor did he seem all that interested in dating. At least that’s what you’ve figured, considering you spend all of your time together and he’s not once tried to make a move. 

“Uh…” you start, figuring you’ll elaborate since he’s taken such an interest. “Just… not great conversationalist. The guy spent half the night trying to convince me that cryptocurrency was worth investing in and uh… I don’t know. Just wasn’t there for me, I guess.”

“What?”

“You know… that spark, I guess.”

And he does. He feels it every single time you look at him with your ‘you’re totally pissing me off and I hate how endearing it is’ look. He feels it on the rare occasion that he makes you laugh. Every time he makes you a new dish he’s working on and you tell him how annoying it is that he’s this damn good.

“Yeah, no I uh-. Sounds like it’d be important,” he offers up, suddenly feeling out of his league. It’s not like he can commiserate or agree with you from experience. 

“You uh… wanna watch something else?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject. 

“Sure, yeah,” he replies, tossing you the remote. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him as you take it. 

You begin scrolling through his smart TV’s apps, searching for a movie to put on in the background. The sounds of the rain falling harder and harder against his apartment windows fill his ears since nothing is playing in the background just yet. He doesn’t remember hearing about a storm, but it must’ve come on unexpectedly. 

Carmy watches you as you explore your options, and he feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest at the thought of some asshat sitting here on this couch with you – someone that’s not him. He swallows, suddenly aware that he’s clenching his fist. He relaxes it, beginning to fidget with a spare key chain that lays on the coffee table. 

“You end up calling your brother?” you question, in reference to the last conversation you’d had about his Mikey. 

You’d encouraged him to call, even though it seemed like Michael had been in touch lately. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, disappointedly. “Didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry,” you sympathize, giving him an apologetic smile. 

You decide on the first John Wick film when you learn that Carmy’s never seen it. You insist that it’s a classic and he tells you something along the lines of ‘that’s something my cousin would say.’ As the movie rolls on, you stretch your legs out, curling them in towards the back of the couch, while Carmy relaxes, taking up the space of the couch on the outside of you. 

“I can’t believe you like this!” Carmy exclaims, gesturing towards the graphic depiction of violence on the TV. You watch Michael Nyqvist’s character shoot Willem Dafoe’s character multiple times, completely unphased, as he searches your face for any kind of emotional reaction. 

“What?! Being a woman in a male dominated industry… I’ve found that watching action movies brings a sort of… catharsis to me,” you defend yourself playfully. 

“So what you’re saying is… I’m sitting across from a psychopath?” he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” you reply, matter of factly. 

Carmy laughs dryly, his eyes flickering back to you. Your face, lit only by the dim cool hues of the television screen, seems more beautiful than ever. He wonders where the hell that thought came from, brushing it off like it’s nothing. Taking a more teasing tone, he lifts his head to ask:

“And how many times have you fantasized about doing that to me?” 

You smirk, shaking your head as you reply, “You don’t want to know.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out the smallest chuckle, before settling back into his spot on the couch. You laugh once again, enjoying this way more than your fancy dinner date. 

You’re not sure how you’ve both managed to fall asleep in the midst of an action movie, but when you finally come to, you’re halfway through the second John Wick film and Carmy’s fast asleep. Your phone’s managed to fall on the floor, and you have to lean over Carmy’s legs to grab it.

“Shit what time is it?” he stirs, peeking an eye open as you lean over his feet, reaching for your phone. He finds the TV remote right next to him, hitting the pause button. 

“Uh… 2 am,” you answer, sleepily, beginning to sit up. “I should probably go.”

“No, I’m not gonna make you uh-… you wanna take the bed?” he asks, mirroring your body language and sitting up with you too.

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I’m comfy right here,” you reply, returning to your spot on the couch.

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Okay uh…” he says, making his way up to his feet. “... let me get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not that you wouldn’t take the bed, but you’d hate to kick him out of his own bed. And truthfully? You can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t even have a bed frame. 

That’s right.

The man sleeps on a mattress on the floor. 

As Carmy returns to you, pillow and thick comforter in hand, the only sounds that fill the room are the storm outside. You watch as he gently places the pillow down on the couch for you, and you thank him as you take the comforter, laying it across the couch. 

The sounds of a low rumble of thunder fill your ears and you can feel the way the sound reverberates off of Carmy’s apartment.

“You sure you don’t want to take the bed?” Carmy asks you, running a tattooed hand through his messy curls. 

“I’m sure,” you reply confidently. 

“Okay,” he resigns himself. “Need anything else?”

Just you. 

“No, Goodnight, Carmy,” you say, with a soft smile on your face. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, with the slightest wave. 

Carmy leaves you for his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You slide underneath the thick comforter he’s given you, closing your eyes in an attempt to lure yourself back into another slumber. 

But it’s not so easy to fall asleep this time. 

It’s funny… thinking about Carmy being in the next room. It’s not like you hadn’t fallen asleep together on the couch before. In fact, you’d napped on the couch with each other multiple times. And nothing had ever happened. You’d just slept. You wonder if you should’ve taken the bed. Should’ve told him to grow up and that you were both adults who could sleep in the same bed together without things getting weird. Unless… 

All of a sudden, your mind is invaded with flashes of a fantasy: your fingers tangled in his perfect curls, his lips on yours, the way his body would feel on top of yours as you writhe underneath him… 

Holy fuck. What are you thinking?! You and Carmy are just friends. Carmy doesn’t feel that way about you and you don’t feel that way about him, you think to yourself, snapping yourself out of the vision.

You go over the facts in your head, in an attempt to calm yourself down. You’ve been here before. He’s never made a move on you. You’ve never made a move on him.

You’re just friends. 

Maybe you just need a cold glass of water… or a cold shower… 

As you sit up to get a glass of water, you let out the smallest gasp as Carmy’s bedroom door swings open. He stands there, staring at you with unwavering eye contact – one of those long languid looks that used to think meant he hated you. 

For a moment, then tension is thick. You hear another crack of thunder that shakes the floor as a bright flash of lightning from outside electrifies every molecule inside of his apartment. If anything were to happen between the two of you, it had to be now, right?

“Water,” is all he says. 

“What?” you ask, trying your best to hide your surprise that that’s all he said. 

“I-, I forgot water,” he stammers out, beelining for the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you reply as you rise to your feet.

You follow him into the kitchen area, maintaining your distance as you watch him fill up two glasses of water. You’re not sure what’s come over you tonight, but there’s something different inside of you. As he hands you the glass of water he’s filled for you, you could swear he gives you the most wistful look you’ve ever seen, making it impossible not to get lost in how blue his eyes are. 

“You okay?” he asks you when you don’t take the glass of water.  

Calm down, you think to yourself. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you whisper, finally taking the glass from him. 

And just when you think this is all in your head and that Carmy’s going to return to his bedroom with a second thought about it, he doesn’t. He just stands there in the middle of the kitchen with you. He doesn’t take a sip of his water. He stays, his eyes fixed on you as the storm outside rages on, another crack of thunder ricocheting through the apartment.

It’s much louder this time – the loud booms and cracks of thunder alternating with brilliant flashes of lightning. 

Carmy opens his mouth to say something as the room is temporarily lit by another flash, but he can’t figure out what to say either. It’s just the two of you, holding glasses of water in your hands, trying your fucking best not to drop them as you stare at each other. He doesn’t know what he’d even say to you:

You’re irresistible when you wear my clothes. 

I’m holding onto this glass of water so tightly it may shatter. 

I think I might love you.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t do anything. 

He doesn’t take a step towards you and you don’t either. 

You hope he can’t hear the shaking in your voice as you say, “Goodnight, Carmy. And uh, thanks. For the water.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, your words snapping him out of his head. 

“Goodnight.”

*

As you wake the next morning, you can’t figure out what the hell had gotten into you last night. You almost crossed the line with him – with Carmy, with your best friend – threatening everything you’ve built together. You’re relieved that you didn’t, that neither of you said anything, because the idea of this ending scares the hell out of you. 

“How’d you sleep?” Carmy asks as he comes out of his bedroom, his curls unruly and all kinds of wild.

In the light of day, you know it would’ve been a stupid idea – what could’ve happened seeming more and more preposterous the longer you think about it. 

“Not great, but I’ve had worse,” you answer honestly. 

“Should’ve taken the bed,” he points out, an ‘I told you so’ on the tip of his tongue. 

“Carmy,” you sigh, unwillingly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” you mutter with a shake of your head. 

“No, what’s up?” he asks you, taking a few steps toward you. He’s not tall, but he towers over you as you remain seated on his couch. You rise to your feet so that you have a little ground to stand on as you muster up the courage to finally tell him. 

“You need to get a bed frame. You’re a grown ass adult,” you demand, eliciting another dry laugh from him. You take a step towards him, closing some of the distance between the two of you. “And when that happens… I’ll take the bed.”

He shakes his head. He knows you’re right, and he can’t believe it’s taken this long for you to tell him. 

“Heard, chef.”

It’s another few weeks before you let yourself go over to Carmy’s – partially because you like hanging out your place with him more, and partially because you’re terrified that whatever juju put those thoughts in your head that night may take you over again. But it doesn’t, and you’re more than pleasantly surprised to see that he’s purchased a bed frame. It’s nothing fancy – just bed slats and risers – but it’s a bed frame nonetheless. 

“You ready?” Carmy asks you, as he’s just finished putting his shoes on. 

“Yeah,” you reply, slipping off your jacket. 

“There’s usually a ton of a/c in the shop. You might get cold?” he suggests. 

The sight of your bare shoulders in the tank top you’re wearing causes his brain to short circuit for a second. 

“Oh I know, but I like yours more,” you reply, reaching for one of his denim jackets that hangs on the coat hook. 

He smiles, watching you slip into the jacket.

His jacket.

The one he let you borrow you the night he got promoted to CDC.

“Now I’m ready. What’re you gonna get by the way?” you ask curiously, in reference to the tattoo appointment you’re accompanying him to. 

“Uh… was thinking like… a hand with a chef’s knife going through it. You know. On my hand,” he shares with you. 

“You’re so weird,” you blurt out, even though you find it the most endearing.

He is. And yet, you’ve stuck around so far. 

“Yeah, I am,” he chuckles to himself. 

*

“He literally bought a bed for you!” Liz exclaims enthusiastically, one night after work. 

“For himself,” you correct her in hushed tones, asking her to lower her voice. 

“Uh no… for you. Because you told him to. And because he wants to get you in it… naked,” she replies. She lets out a frustrated groan before turning to you. “You know what me and Maya call you?”

“What?” you ask, bracing for whatever nickname she’s about to share with you. 

“The Queen of Denial,” she says. 

“What!?” you exclaim this time, defensively. 

Liz chooses to ignore your response, knowing that your defensiveness comes from the fact that you know she’s right. 

“Why are you going out on these dates with guys you don’t even like when Carmy is right there?” she asks you, pointing out the obvious. 

“I-, I don’t know. I don’t get the sense that he’s interested in dating… anyone,” you admit, your voice softer this time. 

“Well, have you asked him?” she states, as if she already knows the answer. 

“We talked about it once,” you hesitate. 

“Bullshit! The conversation about what Nate said doesn’t count!” she pushes you. 

You sigh. There’s so much fear for you here: fear of losing him as your friend, fear of making yourself look like a fool, fear of letting Carmy love you. 

Because it just feels safer not to acknowledge any of these things.

“I don’t know,” you admit, quietly. “After my last relationship I just… I don’t know if I'm ready, I guess. And then pandemic happened and it was a much welcomed break from dating. I didn’t expect… I didn’t think Carmy and I would get this close. I don’t want to fuck up what we have right now, you know? Dating other people feels like… lower stakes.”

Liz takes a moment to let you hear what you’ve just said, but with an unwavering determination, she’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Sweetie, I love you. And I know you don’t want to get hurt again. But one of these days you are going to have to own up to what’s really going on between the two of you. Sooner rather than later. For all of our sakes,” she pleads.

She’s right. 

You know she’s right. 

But you’d also like getting to pretend, even for a little while. 

Because pretending is easy… uncomplicated… and right now, it seems to work for both you and Carmy. 

Fuck, you were fucked.

read chapter four

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @the-nursery

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos

[heavyhitterheaux]

His Favorite Poison (NSFW 18+)

AN: The trope that a lot of yall live for 🤭🤭

Synopsis: You and Jack grew up together in Louisville, but didn't run in the same circles. From what he had seen, you were bougie, entitled, and stuck up and the last thing he wanted was to be associated with you. Fast forward a few years later, you're new to Jack's team brought on by Neelam and as much as he wants nothing to do with you, he can't help it if you keep pulling him in.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack looked at Neelam in disbelief as she explained to him that someone new was joining the team and helping him with his new album.

He was all for it, until he found out it was you.

“Jack, she told me that the two of you grew up together in Louisville, so I felt that it would be nice to have another familiar face around. I figured that she would be a good fit. She is more than qualified to work with us. She’s worked with a lot of different people in the industry already.”

“Well the only thing I know about her is how stuck up and spoiled she is.” It was at that moment, as you were about to turn the corner you heard Jack’s voice and you could only guess that he was talking about you.

“Jack! Be nice! She’ll be here in the next ten minutes.”

“Tell her to turn around and go home because I don’t want her here.”

“Will you stop being an ass for five seconds?” Neelam said quickly growing annoyed with how he was acting. But you were steadily in the corner listening. It seemed like he already had his mind made up about you even though the two of you didn’t really even know each other. Even though the two of you did grow up in Louisville together, you ran in two very different circles. While Jack became a rapper, you became a songwriter and producer. But you two never worked together until now. However you had worked with Bryson as well as EST Gee many times. It wasn’t until Neelam practically begged you to work with Jack.

“No, I won’t stop because I don’t want her anywhere near me.”

Then you decided to make your presence known and not have this go on for any longer. The sooner you got this over with, the better. 

“Nice to see you too, Jackman.” You greeted him and he got somewhat of a startled look on his face while Neelam just shook her head.

“Oh… I-...”

“I don’t really care if you don’t like me, I have a job to do. I was hired because I’m obviously capable of doing it. But if you’d rather let Neelam continue to drown and not get my help, be my guest so I can go home. I have plenty of other things that I could be doing but I’m here with you.”

All you got in response was Jack sighing before he rolled his eyes.

“Now that we got that trainwreck of an introduction out of the way, we have a lot to work on. And Jack, did you even brush your hair this morning? You’re giving me caveman vibes.” Neelam stifled a laugh and Jack immediately eyed her as she quickly looked away.

“Who says that I even need your help and for your information, I did.”

“Well, you must have brushed it in the dark and obviously you need my help when you’re putting out albums that only get a 2.9 rating. The people of Louisville expected better from you and I plan on making that happen. So lose your attitude and leave your ego at the door. All those haters that you claimed to have are definitely not hating on that babe. Let’s do better moving forward, okay?”

“Well damn.” Neelam said under her breath, but Jack clearly heard her. At this point, his mouth was hanging wide open.

“We have a lot to discuss so I guess we should get started? Come on you two.”

You walked ahead of the two of them down the hallway and Jack simply turned to look at Neelam.

“I’m going to kill you for bringing her on.”

“You won’t kill me once she helps you. Like it or not, you need her.”

“All she’s done is terrorize me and insult me the minute she got here.”

“To be fair, you started it now, come on.”

You were sitting down trying to think of what Jack could do differently as far as his music went in order for him to bounce back from CHTKMY. It wasn’t a total flop, but after hearing his previous projects you knew that he had it in him to be better.

“Hmm, who knew that this is what I would be faced with on my first day?” You said quietly to yourself and Jack did a double take.

“What do you mean it’s your first day?! You’ve never done this before?!”

“And you’ve never put out an album rating 2.9 before either. We’re both learning here. But I have done this before. Plenty of times actually. I have a grammy sweetheart. I meant I’m faced with you being an ass and have to do my best to make sure this next album is top tier.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that every chance you get.”

“It’s supposed to motivate you to do better and I think I have a solution because no one is going to take you seriously if that happens again.”

“Let’s hear it.”  Neelam excitedly said and all you could do was smile at her. 

“Okay so, here’s what I’m thinking. From the research that I’ve done, this next album needs to be ten times or twenty times better than your last obviously. Oh and focus less on side pieces and all the hoes you get because let’s be serious, no one cares. We know you’re attractive and I can imagine you’re even more attractive when you brush your hair so we know the girls are all over you.”

“But…” Jack tried to add, but you cut him off.

“I’m not done. In Churchill Downs you say ‘everybody know Jack, but they don’t know Jackman correct?”

“And? What’s your point?”

“We need Jackman to show up for this next album and not Jack. We need to think outside the box and do something that you’ve never done before.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

“What do you mean how? You need to give your fans the real version of you because that will make them appreciate you even more. Despite you being an absolute asshole to me, I do want to help you do this and I take my job seriously. I felt bad when Neelam started to beg. I’m really here for her if we’re being honest.”

“HEY! You weren’t supposed to mention that!” She exclaimed and all you did was shrug.

“I call it like I see it. Now, we want this to be huge so, no promo whatsoever. We’ll drop a hint a day or two before it gets released and that’s it.”

“Wait a minute now, that sounds like a setup for it to flop.” Jack confessed and you could honestly tell he was worried.

“I promise if you do everything that I say, that it won’t be. And when have I ever made something that was a flop? Put some respect on my name please. I guarantee that I will have you number one on the charts. Just leave your ego to the side and do what you do best and I’ll do the rest. I need you to write a good ass album that will let people know that the little white boy that DJ Drama found from Kentucky is here to stay and he deserves a place in this industry. You’re not a fucking industry plant so you better not act like one. Now are we ready?”

“I didn’t realize that you were a fucking drill sergeant too.” Jack muttered and just crossed his arms. 

“If you think this is me being a drill sergeant now, You haven’t seen anything yet.”

—

“Jack, no. too repetitive.” You said as he was showing you lyrics of the current song that he was writing. It was around 11 at night in Louisville and the two of you had been working just about all day. There were a few other people scattered around the studio and Jack let out a sigh.

“I understand you’re frustrated, but I’m trying to help you make the best album you’ve done to date. So what are you feeling at the moment? We can use that to motivate you.” You curiously asked. 

From that first day of the awkward interaction, you and Jack had been spending just about every day with each other working on his new album and of course he was still being an asshole towards you despite you trying to help him. Although Urban told you that he would eventually come around, but you weren’t sure.

“What am I feeling? Feeling like I’m sick of this shit and that I want to go home.”

You simply laid your pen down on top of your notebook and fully turned to face him. He was looking at you curiously knowing that you were probably going to have a slick ass comment come out of your mouth.

“Jack, let’s just be adults and work through this. The sooner we get done, the sooner we go our separate ways and we never have to be bothered with each other again.” You tried not to show the disappointment on your face when you said it. You didn’t understand what he had against you seeing as you two didn’t know each other well.

“He will, if he wants to keep getting hit songs on his album.” Urban muttered and Jack shot him a look. 

“Now, I’m going to ask you again, how are you feeling right now?”

It took him a few minutes before he finally answered. 

“Like I just want to lay low while continuing to prove people wrong. Let the music speak for itself.”

“Then write that.” You said while scooting your notebook towards him.

He was hesitant, but he eventually took it.

It was almost one in the morning and you were ready to call it quits and resume later that morning. It was now only you and Jack left in the studio and you could tell that the writer’s block was getting to him.

“Jack, just get in the booth.” You said while looking over at him and he looked at you like you had lost it.

“I don’t even have anything written. So what am I doing that for?”

“I’ve been working on a few beats for you. Maybe if you hear it, it’ll motivate you. Do this and we can go home and be right back at it later tonight.”

Jack shrugged before doing as he was told. He now had the headphones on and you hit play on the soundboard. As the beat filled the studio, Jack was surprised and did his best to not show it on his face.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to bring you on after all. 

You simply nodded for him to start when he was ready and he simply freestyled what he was feeling.

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win (Ooh)

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

It can't be the way I treat people or how I make time to see people

Or make sure that they feel like we equals

It can't be the smile, it can't be the eye contact with these crowds

It can't be my pen, it can't be these verses

That make people feel like I'm talkin' to them

It can't be the homage I've paid

Nights when I could've left the studio early, but I stayed

It can't be the tone of my voice

It can't be the thought I put into every choice

It can't be the Jeep instead of the Rolls-Royce

It can't be the downtime with my boys

It can't be the Tribe and the Biggie and the Nas

The Outkast and the Missy in my iPod

It can't be the absence of any facade

It can't be the worldwide hometown pride

So I guess (So I guess)

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

Once he stopped, he looked over at you to see if you approved and you quickly smiled at him and nodded. Once he was sitting back next to you, he mentioned that another verse and the chorus again would be perfect and that the song would be finished. So you volunteered to help him write it.

It took another twenty minutes, but in the end both of you were satisfied with it.

It can't be some understanding or branding

Or maybe that I'm outstanding

Or all the South American fans that meet me at the airport upon landing

It can't be my aunties and grannies

And every other woman in my family that raised me to be upstanding

It can't be that I simply make ear candy

Especially when the industry could just plant me

Especially when I didn't grow up on Brandy

Especially when I'm havin' dinner in Frankfort with Andy

It can't be a bit of good karma

It can't be the way they all said that he's a charmer

It can't be the lack of chinks in my armor

It can't be the poise when them boys try to harm us

It can't be that we built somethin' to be a part of

It can't be the way that every beat gets barred up

So I guess

It must be my skin, I can't think of any other reason I win

I can't think of an explanation, it can't be the years of work I put in

It can't be the way that I stuck with the same friends

It can't be the swag I got when I walk in, it can't be

“Now this is what I meant when I said that I needed Jackman and not Jack.” You said nodding in approval. 

“See if you weren’t so stuck up growing up, we could’ve been making hits.”

“Uhh, thanks? But what makes you think I’m stuck up? You hardly ever said two words to me growing up.”

“Do I really have to explain it?”

“Yes, because I’m obviously confused. I was never mean or rude to you.”

“I guess not since you probably didn’t know I existed. You always had this thing about you like you thought you were better than everybody.”

“Where did you even get that from because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I knew that you existed right along with the rest of your friends.”

“Let’s just drop it. I appreciate you doing this for me. Sooo, same time tomorrow?” Jack asked while getting up to gather all of his things and you quickly followed suit. 

“Yes I’ll be here.”

“I still don’t like you or trust you though.”

Your heart somewhat dropped hearing him say that and you wanted more of an explanation to what he said before. You barely said two words to him when you were younger because you were shy and you had the biggest crush on him. You still did, but knew since he had this idea of how you were in his head already that even being friends would never be a reality. But you knew you had to separate your feelings from your job. You were here to help make him an amazing album and that was it.

“Just like I said before, you don’t have to.”

It had been about two months or so since you first started helping Jack write his album and it was going smoothly despite the awkward beginning that the two of you had. Even though Jack originally told you that he didn’t particularly care for you, his feelings were starting to change the more time that he spent with you.

He noticed that everyone that came into the studio gravitated towards you no matter what was going on and that people spoke very highly of you. 

Not once did he hear anyone say something bad about you. It wasn’t until the two of you were getting ready to leave for the night when you noticed him hovering near the door. You simply raised your eyebrow up at him as he shifted his weight back and forth.

“Did you need me for something?” You asked while turning around to look at him.

“It’s 3 in the morning and I don’t want you walking to your car by yourself.” Jack confessed while scratching the back of his neck.

“We’ve left later than this before and I was just fine.” You replied while looking in your tote bag for your keys.

“I get that, but I should have done it then too.”

You threw your bag over your shoulder and met him at the door with him moving to the side so that he could let you go out first and he would follow behind you. The two of you then walked to your cars in silence and Jack was surprised to find out that the two of you had actually parked next to each other.

“You would have a BMW.” Jack blurted out before he caught himself. He was trying to turn over a new leaf with you and it obviously wasn’t starting off well.

“What is that supposed to mean, Jack?” You asked before sighing and opening your door.

“Um… just that it suits you. That’s all.”

“I’m safe and sound in my car so you can go ahead and go home.” You threw your bag in the passenger seat, but Jack not wanting the night to end just yet had gotten a bright idea. He didn’t want to admit to himself how much he liked spending time with you. 

“Um, I’ll follow you to make sure you get home okay.”

“Are you…. Do you feel okay?” You asked, confused by the sudden change of heart. Two months ago he didn’t even want to be in the same room with you and now he wants to follow you in his car to make sure that you got home okay?

“I feel fine.” Jack answered as he shrugged and got into the driver’s side of his Jeep. The two of you started up your cars and were on your way.

You made sure that Jack was close behind you as you merged onto the highway. You looked into your rearview mirror periodically to make sure that he was behind you and put on some music to distract yourself from your thoughts. You didn’t quite know what was happening between you and Jack, and you were sure that your heart did a backflip when he wanted to make sure you got home safely. 

You didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He had never done that before and you also noticed that he was starting to get shy around you. Whenever you would bring up something, he would see what you thought first before giving his opinion. 

It took about twenty minutes before you were pulling into the parking garage where your condo was. Once you had parked, you noticed that Jack had pulled up next to you. You had gotten out and made your way towards him as he rolled down his window. 

“Thanks for making sure I got home okay.” You said while giving him a small smile which he eagerly returned. 

“Oh, you’re welcome. I really didn’t mind.”

Since the two of you had pulled into the garage, you noticed that it had started to rain heavily and because you didn’t want him driving in that trying to get home, you suddenly blurted out for him to stay with you before you could stop yourself.

“Um, do you want to come inside? It’s pouring out here and I can’t have you driving home in that.”

“I really don’t live that far away and don’t want to be an inconvenience to you.”

“You won’t be, I promise. Just come on before either of us get sick and then it’ll take us even longer to finish your album.”

Once the two of you hit the top floor in the building, you led him down the hallway and stopped in front of your door while fishing for your keys in your bag to open the door. Once you did, you led the two of you inside and Jack was looking around taking in his surroundings. Everything was neat and extremely organized just how you were.

He didn’t expect anything less from you.

 It was at that moment you suddenly had a thought.

“Shit.” You quietly said, but Jack still heard you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You simply threw your head back and sighed before answering him.

“I forgot my brother is staying with me this week so he’s in the guest room.”

“I can take the couch, it’s not a problem.”

“Jack, your 6’3 ass will not be comfortable especially if you want to stretch out. You can sleep in my room and I’ll take the couch. I have a king sized bed.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not kicking you out of your room. You were nice enough to let me stay so that I didn’t have to drive in the rain but I’m not doing that. And what do you need with a king sized bed? Aren’t you like 5’1?”

“Watch it Harlow. Just…. come on.” You grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom. You immediately went to your vanity to start taking off your jewelry while Jack awkwardly stood in the corner.

“Jack, I don’t bite. Make yourself comfortable.” You said as you began to put your hair up. 

He slowly slipped off his shoes as you went to change into your pajamas in your walk-in closet. When you came back, your breath hitched in your throat because he was now shirtless laying on your bed with his hand behind his head scrolling through his phone. 

Get yourself together, Y/N. You thought to yourself before sliding in next to him. Jack put his phone down when you did and he looked just about as nervous as you did.

“Uhh, what time were we going to head to the studio?” Jack curiously asked as you turned out the light. You figured he wouldn’t be able to see how nervous you were in the dark.

“Um around 11? How does that sound?”

“That sounds fine. I have another song that I wrote the other day that I wanted you to look over for me.”

“Okay.”

It was quiet for a few minutes with just the sounds of both of your breathing in your room before you heard Jack’s voice again.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for doing this for me even if it didn’t start out so well. You could’ve quit right then and there. I’m happy that you didn’t.”

“You’re welcome and I meant what I said. It’s my job and I’m going to make sure that this album is successful. Now go to sleep because we have a lot to do today.”

—

“So you mean to tell me that you slept in the same bed as the girl that you absolutely hate last night?” Urban asked his best friend on facetime as Jack was picking up what he learned was your favorite breakfast while also getting himself something from a small cafe down the street. He noticed how you came in with the same bag to the studio everyday and he has learned from Neelam that you liked chai tea and not coffee so that’s what he got you. 

“Hate is such a strong word.”

“You weren’t saying that two months ago. I remember every day for that first month you complaining about her despite her doing something that benefits you.”

“I woke up with my arm around her and luckily she was still sleeping. I left and went home to take a shower and change my clothes.”

“And now you’re picking her up her favorite breakfast. Hmm, you're whipped.”

“What? How am I whipped? We aren’t even together.”

“Not yet anyway.”

“There’s no way. I don’t even like her like that.”

All Urban did was eye him and Jack quickly looked away as his name was called to pick up your order. 

He made his way back to his Jeep before saying anything else. 

“Ask her out.”

“She has it in her mind that I don’t like her. So I can imagine that’s not going to go all that well.”

“Why would she think that unless you actually told her that? She literally invited you to her condo and the fact that the two of you didn’t fuck is beyond me. If you don’t want her, send her my way.”

All Jack did was scratch the back of his neck as Urban looked at him in disbelief.

“No the fuck you didn’t tell her that.”

“Ehh, not exactly my best moment.”

“Why are you such a dumbass sometimes? You have literally had this one-sided beef with her for years and one that she doesn’t even know about. She deserves at least that much from you. To explain it, I mean.”

“I ask myself that every day and I don’t know if she even wants to hear me out.”

“Tell her how you feel before someone else swoops in and gets her.”

Jack had now made it back to your condo and briefly knocked on the door and was hoping that your brother didn’t answer because the last thing he wanted was to have to explain what was going on between the two of you. You opened it and simply eyed him as he handed you the bag that contained your food and what you assumed was chai tea. 

“What’s this?” You asked while looking at him dumbfounded.

“Your breakfast. It’s the least that I could do for you letting me stay here.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“And I know you don’t really drink coffee so that’s chai tea. Neelam said it was your favorite.”

“Hmm, well thank you. I appreciate it.” You said while moving to the side so he could walk past you.

You locked the door behind him and went to the kitchen to sit across from Jack at the island as he also started to eat his food.

“Is your brother here?” Jack curiously asked while looking around and all you did was smirk.

“No, he left out earlier. Why?”

“I just didn’t want to explain why I was coming out of your bedroom at the crack of dawn just in case.”

“Last time I checked I was a grown ass woman and it wouldn’t be any of his business anyway. If I want to have sex with multiple people in one night then I’m going to without any input from anyone else.”

You saying that made Jack feel a wave of jealousy come over him and the fact that it wasn’t him that you were referring to. The sexual tension at least from his point of view was quite evident between the both of you, but since he had been an asshole to you before, he highly doubted that you would want to be anywhere near him when this was over and done with. 

“Fair point.”

It was now around four in the afternoon and everybody was stating how hungry they were and Jack took it upon himself to ask you to go to lunch with him and that he would treat you.

“You treated me this morning, so let me return the favor.” You said while looking up at him as he towered above you.

“No, you working on this album with me is more than enough. I’m treating you and I know the perfect place that we can go.”

You held your hands up in surrender and let him have his way, not wanting to go back and forth with him.

“Okay, let me just go to the bathroom and I’ll be ready.”

“I’m serious Y/N, leave your wallet here.”

“Fine.”

You walked down the hallway until you got to the bathroom and quickly went inside and locked the door behind you.

Only a few minutes had passed and once you finished drying your hands, you opened the door to see Jack standing on the other side of it. Before you could ask him if something was wrong, he abruptly kissed you and pushed you back inside all while locking the door behind him.

You eagerly kissed him back as he sat you on the counter before he reached down in an attempt to pull your dress up around your waist so that he could have easier access to you.

He briefly broke away from you to look down at you for approval and you quickly nodded. Jack got on his knees and slid your black thong down your thighs before putting it in his back pocket leaving you with your mouth hanging wide open. 

Proceeding to spread your thighs, Jack got as close as possible as he could to you taking one long lick and you immediately shuddered while your hands went into his curly hair.

It took everything in you to hold back your moans not wanting anyone to hear you since you didn’t know how many people might be around.

“Jackkkk, shit.”

He continued to lap at your folds and couldn’t wait to see you come undone in front of him. If someone had asked you two months ago if you thought that you would be in the position that you were currently in, the answer would have been no.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” You heard Jack say and you couldn’t help but to moan.

“Shiiit, I’m close.”

Upon hearing you say that, Jack immediately went to suck on your clit making you hold your hand to your mouth in an attempt to stay quiet. You let a few moans escape here and there before both of your hands went back into his hair.

In less than a minute, you came all over his face as he continued to lap at your folds. He finally stood up and you brought his lips to yours in a kiss that almost felt desperate. As you were kissing Jack, you were multitasking as you undid his pants and slid them down along with his boxer briefs to his ankles.

You definitely did a double take once you saw how big he was, but that wasn’t going to stop you seeing as you didn’t know if this would ever happen again.

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m on the pill.”

Jack simply nodded as he slowly entered you and kept going until he bottomed out and let out a moan.

One thing you loved during sex is if a man was vocal and you could tell that Jack wasn’t about to disappoint you. 

You reached up to place your arms around his shoulders as he whispered in your ear.

“You okay?”

You simply nodded in return now that you had time to adjust and Jack quickly showed you no mercy with the pace that he was moving in and out of you with. 

“Fuck, you feel so good around me.” You heard Jack say as you once again covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your moans. 

Nothing was working as he increased his pace and you loudly moaned his name.

“Shh, baby we don’t want anyone to hear us .”

You whimpered as you felt his thrusts get sloppier and you knew that he was close and it was only a matter of time before it happened. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you knew that the two of you needed to get back down the hallways before anyone suspected anything.

The both of you finally released at the same time as Jack was placing kisses along your neck as you came down from your high. 

It took a few minutes before your breathing to become even again as Jack slowly slipped out of you.

You began to hop off of the counter so you could pull your dress down, but not before Jack brought his lips to yours once more.

“You think they’re looking for us?” Jack asked you as his forehead was laying against yours and you had gotten lost staring into those blue eyes that you loved so much.

“They might be so let’s go.”

Once again, you attempted to hop down, but Jack immediately stopped you.

“I’ll go first then wait a few minutes, okay?” Jack proposed and you nodded.

The both of you quickly got dressed and Jack left out first leaving you confused on what had just happened.

You had just had sex with Jack in the bathroom at the studio.

The thoughts were going through your mind at 100 miles an hour but you couldn’t think about that right now.

You still had a job to do and would deal with your feelings later.

Finally you hopped off the counter and had a realization.

Jack definitely slipped your thong into his back pocket.

Once you had gotten yourself together, you walked back into the studio to see Jack talking and laughing with Urban as you made your way back to your seat.

How were you even supposed to concentrate after that?

But, at the end of the day you were a professional and knew you needed to get this done.

No matter how hard it would be to now have to face Jack every day.

“You okay,Y/N?” Urban asked you and you simply shot him a small smile.

“Never better.”

Over the next few weeks, Jack had acted like nothing had happened between the two of you and for some reason it was bothering you to no end. 

So he could just have sex with you whenever he wanted and act like everything is normal? 

Luckily, it was an off day for you and all you were doing was laying around your condo, stuffing your face with food and catching up on all your shows when there was a knock at the door.

You checked your security camera to see that it was him.

Him as in Jack.

You rolled your eyes and slowly walked to the door, swung it open and walked back to the couch without even acknowledging him.

Jack thought it was weird that you didn’t say anything to him and simply followed you to sit next to you.

It was quiet for a few minutes before either of you spoke and Jack was extremely nervous and didn’t want to be the one to break the silence.

“What do you want, Harlow?” You asked while not taking your eyes off the television.

“I.. I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

“So, it took you weeks to do that?”

“No… well… I didn’t mean for it to take this long. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Didn’t know what to say? You literally put my thong in your back pocket, ate me out, and rearranged my guts in a studio bathroom and you have no clue what to say to me?”

“Look, I like you Y/N, I like you a lot and I’ve been afraid to admit it outloud. How I treated you was unacceptable and I want to apologize for it. I admit that because of what I heard about you, I already had this idea in my head about who you were as a person and that wasn’t right. I didn’t even give you a chance and I was judging you. You’ve been nothing but amazing to me this entire time as you helped me to do this album despite how I treated you. You’re a sweetheart who also takes her job seriously and I love that about you.”

“I just never understood why you hated me so much.” You said while finally turning to look at him.

“I didn’t hate you!”

“But you didn’t particularly like me either or trust me and you told me that yourself.”

“Um, well….”

“Just drop it, Jack. Your album is just about finished. We can go our separate ways and act as if this never happened.”

“But what if I don’t want for us to go our separate ways?” He asked while taking your smaller hand in his. 

“What are you even saying?”

“That I want to take you out on a proper date which doesn’t end up with me fucking you in a bathroom.”

“But who says that I didn’t want you fucking me in the bathroom?” You curiously asked before smiling at him.

“Let me at least buy you dinner first.”

“It’s a deal and I’m going to need my thong back.”

“No you don’t. I’m definitely keeping it.”

Liked by yourinstagramname, urbanwyatt, estgee, neelamthadhani, brysontiller, 2forwoyne, and 5,739,042 others

jackharlow: Jackman. Out everywhere.

urbanwyatt: album art by yours truly

yourinstagramname: so incredibly proud of you. I knew you could do it. just didn't expect to see titties on your album cover

jackharlowsource: is anyone else foaming at the mouth at this pic or is it just me

jackharlow: yourinstagramname you've seen me in less, don't act up

jackharlowsource: OH 👀👀👀

neelamthadhani: thankful that he finally took my advice and let Y/N work on the album with him

urbandjack24: jackharlowsource nope. count me in too. we finally got a shirtless pic.

yourinstagramname: jackharlow okay so... I forgot what you looked like with less. I think I need a redo.

jackharlowsource: lmaooo no she didn't

urbanwyatt: jackharlow finally asked y/n out so I can stop getting facetime calls about how much he likes at her at 2 am

jackharlow: urbanwyatt now I'll call you to simp over her and yourinstagramname when you want that redo? because I got all night

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, dojacat, estgeem brysontiller, lolabrooke, and 1,099,487 others

yourinstagramname: face you make when your baby hits number 1 on apple music. well deserved jackharlow. proud of you. 💕

jackharlow: couldn't have done it without you mamas. thank you.

neelamthadhani: you two hated each other and now look. can't keep your hands off each other For two minutes

yourinstagramname: jackharlow you know I'd do anything for you and neelamthadhani what's your point?

urbanwyatt: I think the fuel to jackharlow confessing his feelings to her was that I said that I was going to ask her out if he didn't

yourinstagramname: urbanwyatt it still took him another month

urbanwyatt: yourinstagramname and to think we would've been amazing together

jackharlow: urbanwyatt HEY! CUT THE SHIT!

urbanwyatt: jackharlow if she decides to drop you, the bro code does not exist in this situation

jackharlowsource: lmaooooo not urban trying to get at y/n 😭😭😭

jackharlow: urbanwyatt and I thought we were brothers

neelamthadhani: idk why you two are fighting over her, when we all know that the only person that she'll leave for jackharlow is me

yourinstagramname: neelamthadhani you and me forever. we should get matching tattoos to symbolize our love.

jackharlow: yourinstagramname wait until later

yourinstagramname: jackharlow me and neelam are going on a date. raincheck?

jackharlow: yourinstagramname BABE, STOP PLAYING AND LET ME IN

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@venusvinc

@jacksmoviestar

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@jackmansbabymama

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@toocriticalharlow

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow angst #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction

[your-garden-rose]

SELFISH

Taglist : @crystal-yukio , @ruler-of-hades , @onigirinchanowo , @ellie3467 , @k1ngan0n , @demon-tears , @heizis , @soggywafle , @nukilol , @happy-smiley , @obeyme-stuff , @tonedeafbard2 , @r-0-tt-3-n-m-1-lk , @syke-1-7-3-8-ay, @hornyf0ckers , @the-horroredits-home , @obeymediasimp , @celestialbluebed

I’m sorry if i didn’t tag anyone, or if I’m not able to tag them <33

TW: Violence, Minor cusses, if I left anything let me know please <33

Ch 5: Shut it.

1 MONTH LATER :

Ever since Cecilia’s birthday, any respect for the brothers, the royals, and even the angels and the Solomon was gone. No one even bothered to hide their disdain for them as they all ignored them and carried on with their day. The boys on the other hand? Miserable. To hear those very words come out of your mouth as you looked down at them with a burning hatred made them flinch just by remembering it. Cecilia on the other hand, was still shameless as ever, as she continuously acted scared around you. It was really pathetic, to even breathe in their general direction, as you simply chose to be with Lamia, and Mephistopheles and enjoy their company. One fine day you were hanging out with Mephistopheles when suddenly you were yanked into an empty classroom. You clutched your head in pain as you groaned and looked around you. Your vision was still hazy as you heard the door being locked. “What the fuck..” you muttered as you got up, trying to process everything as someone muttered “look what you’ve done, scumbag. You’ve hurt them again.” Scowled Asmodeus. You immediately realised the situation as your face darkened. “What the hell were you all thinking?!” You yelled at them as they flinched at your harsh tone. “D-Darling, we’re sorry-“ “Can you shut it already?” You stated as you raised your hand at Asmodeus. “Mc! Are you okay? Did Mammon hurt you-“ “Honestly you’re more annoying than Mammon, Simeon. Please keep quiet.” He immediately shut his mouth, he honestly looked more pathetic. “So. What was I dragged in here for? I thought you guys didn’t want to associate yourselves with someone like me?” You asked mockingly, as you eyed Lucifer. “Mc..” “stop being fucking slow and answer me, surely you did not drag me into a fucking classroom and lock the door just to act pathetic, right?” “We want to apologise.” “Oh? The Lucifer wants to apologise? Damn.” You chuckled as you sat yourself on a desk. “Well? You gonna waste my time or gonna apologise?” He immediately flinched as he started, “I’m sorry, I’m extremely sorry Mc, I shouldn’t have believed Cecilia, I shouldn’t have abused you I shouldn’t have embarrassed you, I’m-“ “Dude, you sound so fucking desperate right now. Are you actually Lucifer?” “Mc, dear, please, hear us out” pleaded Asmodeus as you immediately scowled back at him. “And why is that? You all seriously expect me to hear you out after what you’ve done? Just how fucking entitled are you all ?”

It was then the prince, he kneeled in front of you as he looked at your eyes. “Hmm? What sort of display of shame is this? Do you have something useless to say?” He immediately took your hands in his as he stated. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I treated you, the way we treated you. If this has hurt you in anyway I’ll take responsibility Mc, please don’t leave us, nothing will be the way it was before without you. Please, I’ll take the appropriate punishment and I’ll suffer for what I’ve done, but please just-“ it was then you yanked your hand out of his and slapped him across the face. The prince only looked more and more dejected as he knew he deserved it. He stopped Barbatos from helping him as he chose to bear your full wrath, “You have no right to talk.” You stated as you grabbed his hair. “You have no idea, NO absolute idea how I felt from the beginning. YOU kidnapped me from MY normal life. I never asked for this” you then turned your attention to the butler as you walked towards him, your wrath now radiating through out the room. “You.” You stated as you walked towards him with your fists clenched “you knew. Didn’t you? You knew this was going to happen. You still let this happen. You never cared. You are just like the pathetic lot behind you.” You stated as you slapped him across the face. He said nothing. “Atleast they had the decency to apologise. But you? Nothing.” “Mc darling I-“ he was interrupted with another slap. “You do not talk until I fucking ask you to. Am I understood” silence. “Did you not hear what I fucking said? You fucking demon?” “I understand Mc.” “I hate you. I hate the fact that I trusted you. And you? You aren’t sorry for what you did to me, aren’t you? You’re only sorry for the situation. Not me. It was never me, wasn’t it? You all never cared. I was just a pesky human you all were ordered to look after. Wasn’t I?” Everyone’s eyes widened as Mammon spoke up “Mc it’s not what you think-“ “then? Go on, explain. I’d love to hear what you have to say, Mammon” You stated. It was then for the first time Mammon noticed how tired you were, tired enough to not feel anything. Everyone then noticed how far they had gone. Luke then made his way to you. His small hands trembling as he held your big ones “Mc I-I’m-“ he stopped when he noticed you didn’t hold his hands like you used to your hand was dangling as your face held nothing. He wanted to cry as he knew, he too, was one of the reasons you were like this. “Im sorry.” “Don’t apologise.” “Huh?” He looked surprised as he looked up at you. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re just a kid, you did what your guardian did, it’s natural. Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong, you just wanted to spend time with Cecilia.” You stated as you removed his hands from yours gently “I don’t want to hear anything more. I need time to process this. Please, let me be.” You stated, as everyone suppressed the urge to hold you. To see you so broken, and to know, that they were the cause of this, oh god they wanted to cry. “I understand. This won’t be easy, take all the time you need Mc.” “Shut it.” And with that you immediately ignored everyone as you ran back to the nearest restroom as you cried locking yourself in the closest stall.

Will you ever forgive them for what they did? Did they even deserve it?

<-

#obey me x mc #obey me replaced mc au #replaced mc au #manipulative! mc au #𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣 ❣︎ #obey me angst

[ishipgenfics]

You and Your Human: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

You do not know where you are.

To be fair, you have not known where you are for a very long time, but this is a different kind of uncertainty. This room looks different from your old one. Last you remember, there were alarms ringing through the air and you were curled up into a ball trying to ignore the rumbling in your stomach because no one had come in so long--

You shove the memories down. You have always been good at that, even before your abduction, although never to this degree.

You get up, shakily. You have been left water, and down it eagerly. You are glad to have it, but its presence is a bad sign. If they want you to get your strength back, it means more tests are coming up. It may mean they want you to fight, which you really aren't in the mood for.

You push yourself up to your feet, ignoring your shaking limbs. You can let yourself be weak if you ever get out. For now, you need to put on a show of force. If they ever think they don't need to fear you anymore...

You pace the perimeter of your new room, tapping on the walls as you go. No cracks, no weaknesses. You didn't really think there would be, but you had to check.

... you can't hear anything. Or well, that isn't true, you can hear the shaky sound of your own breathing, your footsteps on the stainless steel floor, but you can't actually hear anything outside of your cell. And that's weird.

There's always noise. The sound of screams, the clash of metal against metal, crying, sobbing. There has never been anything like this, this cold unearthly silence. You shiver.

As you sit in your cell, with nothing else to do, you begin to wonder what happened. The ship crashed. You are fairly certain of that, unless it was some sort of trick-- but no. You have agreed to take the world at face value, lest you go mad.

So. The ship crashed. No one came for a long time. You assumed they were all dead. You assumed you too would die.

... is that why its so quiet? Are they all dead? Did the alarms finally run out of power?

Except no, that doesn't make sense either, because if they're all dead, how on... wherever you are would you be in another room?!

You bury your head in your hands.

You are bored. It has been days and each time you fall asleep, food and water appear in your cell. None of it has been drugged, and most of it has been edible, which is good, but you have seen no one.

You know you sound like an entitled prick-- complaining about being bored while on an alien shapeship-- but at least the experiments made sense. You knew what to expect. Those days where you were sure you were going to die forgotten in your cell were worse that any test the aliens could come up with, and you really don't want to go back to them. Even if you do have food now.

You start talking. Just to the air. Back when you were capable of acting like a normal human being, you would have been worried that this made you seem crazy, but you really could not give a damn anymore.

You recite snippets of books and movies, and then, when you run out of those, you just talk. About anything and everything.

Sometimes you could almost swear someones listening.

Some time later, out of the corner of your eye, you see a small fuzzy head poke into the doorway. You heart stops.

"Hello?" you say.

"Hello?" the alien calls back. You warn your frantic heart not to get its hopes up. It's probably just mimicking you, like a parrot. There's no reason to be excited.

But then it keeps talking.

"Okay?" it says. "I speak some. Not past, so couldn't speak you-me. Can now. So, okay?"

You just stared, stunned. The alien pronounces words strange-- buzzing its ses and clicking its ces, and it hesitates over each word, but it is speaking to you. Speaking English.

It has been so, so long.

The alien's ears twitch. They are tall and bristly. Like a rabbit. You had a friend who had a pet rabbit, a long time ago. "Go?"

"No!" You are shocked by the levels of desperation in your voice. Only a week ago, you would have given anything for the aliens to leave you alone. But now...

"Alone... bad for humans? Or you? Or three?"

You think through how to phrase this in a way the rabbit alien will understand. "Yes. Much alone bad. Much alone makes little alone worse."

The rabbit alien swishes its tail once, firmly. "I will stay."

You talk to the rabbit alien often. It is different from the gem aliens. It talks to you like you are a sentient being, rather than an experiment. It never runs tests. Sometimes it lets you out of your cell.

You are certain you are on a different ship. No one on the other ship would ever be this kind.

You like this alien. It is your alien now. You decided this, and so it is true. You have not told your alien this because you don't want to scare it away, but you think it feels the same. You have caught it referring to you as its human when it mumbles under its breath.

Your alien shows you how to unlock the door to your cell. You are no longer a prisoner here, it seems. Strange, to be trusted after only a few short weeks. You can't say it's something you're used to.

Your alien also might be a criminal, because the ship you are on was clearly not made for it. It is small, and it has trouble reaching things. The ship the gem aliens on was definitely built for them so... your alien might have stolen a ship?

Eh. You don't care. From how the gem aliens acted, your existence is probably illegal.

You get out of the ship for the first time into a grassy area surrounded by mountains. It is beautiful, but your alien seems to be... upset. You don't like that. Your alien should not be upset. But it is making whimpering noises and its breaths are halted and shuddering as it tries to explain things to you.

You kneel down to the ground, heedless of the way the dew on the grass seeps into your pant legs and wrap your arms around your alien. It leans its head into your shoulder.

As you feel your aliens pitter-patter heartbeat against your neck, you think to yourself that it is a damn good thing your alien's crew will never meet you.

Hell hath no fury like a human scorned.

#this story has a tag now! #you and your human #also the you in this portion is the human not the alien #in case it was unclear #also also its a prequel #humans are space orcs #writblr #story snippet #story #Part 4: Engineers and Scientists and Bookshops #Oh My! #second person #original character #click on the you and your human tag to find parts 1 and 2! #if it doesn't work for whatever reason let me know and i'll link them in the main post

[tenderfxck]

OHHH, I've been meaning to send you a short imagine that popped up in my head from the Alhaitam posts. But before I could realize, it went from a short paragraph to an actual little drabble. So here it is, I hope it's up to your bullying alhaitam standards™ as THE bullying alhaitam blog.

I wrote all of this on my phone so I apologize before hand for any mistakes but DAMN. I ADORE the idea of bullying entitled and bitchy characters so much it's not funny anymore (it is) because every time i tell my ideas, my friends are just. Flabbergasted. Queue an audible gasp and a "why would you do that to him?"

Well, with Haitam the story writes by itself: He asked for it. Oh, so he's better than everyone else? Different, logical and centred? He's absolutely not like the other academics, of course. Such an admirable and unique individual we have in front of ourselves!

Alhaitam thinks so highly of himself, it's only natural for me to desire to humble him.

I like the idea of playing along with his antics, testing him. He begins a discussion for a matter you don't really care about, but you take his bait anyway. Patiently, you wait for a chance to get closer to him and his frowned face, and before he knows it, one of your hands begins working its way up his chest. His breathing stutters as he tries so hard to keep talking. His mouth goes dry and there's something a bit shaken in his voice—you merely laid your fingertips over his shirt but your touch feels like a thousand sparks flying. Alhaitam can feel the heat in his body as he speaks, going all the way to his face, and even if he lets you push him against the wall, he refuses to adress what's going on.

(What would he even say? He knows he doesn't want you to stop, but he doesn't want to admit it either)

And just when your hand reaches his shoulder and you lean forward, mouth inches away from his, he finally stops speaking, bracing himself for the second your lips brush against his—But that moment never comes. Instead, you stand back and leave with a laugh. “That's all you get. See you next time, oh-Grand-Scribe”

He watches you go, heart beating so hard it may as well jump out of his chest. He feels hot all over his body, and feels shamefully familiar ache forming down, down his torso. The red creeping up his neck now it's not only caused by embarrassment but anger.

How could you do this to him?

You're the worst type of person he's ever encountered—a walking nonsense! Alhaitam has decided long ago that people like you are absolutely not worth his time.

Yet, he has reluctantly held himself in his hand and pumped his cock at night thinking about you, writhing with rage at the way you wake up his desire like nothing and no one ever has. Even if he hates every ounce of the situation you got him in, he continues to betray his logic when he goes looking for you the next day.

You're not alone when he finds you. On the contrary, the other person is so close to you they may as well try to steal your breath, as you help them hold their notes in your hands as you explain them a topic they didn't quite understand. You guide them with gentleness, as you're known for, but the only thing Alhaitam can think about it's the flush on the other person's face, the way they're staring at your mouth and absolutely not listening to your words. He coughs, so your attention goes to him.

“Oh, hello Haitam!” you chirp, so energetic, so happy and unapologetic despite the way you gave him a hard time the day before. “Didn't expect to see you here!”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Helping this student who's obviously not interested in literary theory but looking for a reason to get close to you.

“You shouldn't be giving lessons on a subject you did poorly,” he states. He recalls your face the day the scores were posted, how your confident smile dropped and your mouth formed a perfect 'O'; he's been looking to see that happen again since you began pestering him.

To his displeasure, you laugh. “Yeah, I did have to retake the exam when I failed more than a year ago. You have quite the memory, don't you, Grand Scribe? Good thing I learned from my failure and moved on”

The other person shuffles in their place, slightly uncomfortable, beginning to understand you two aren't talking about linguistics. Good.

“I just remembered I had something else to take care of, thank you and goodbye!”

You wave them off, unbothered, sweet smiles and kind words, “you can come looking for me anytime you need me!”

Then you turn back at him and your nice front drops. “What a way to scare off the students I'm tutoring. You know I need this so the Akademiya approves my investigation, right?”

“They didn't come here for your help.”

“Yeah, but you didn't come here for a tutorship either, did you?”

Alhaitam ears begin to burn a bright red and you notice.

“You know, I said something about learning from my failures. I didn't think I had to give that advice to the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya but…”

Alhaitam breath stutters, and his words come out before he can regret it:

“You were lying when you rejected me.”

Your eyes widen for a second, grin big with teeth and amusement.

“Really? My, I didn't get the memo”

“You're doing this on purpose”

“Why would I?”

“I don't know!” He bursts. “You're nonsensical! You're the most absurd person I have ever met. Always acting like you know something I don't and I know that's impossible! I don't understand how you manage to be so irritating, and annoying, and yet I still can't understand why you, of all people, make me feel—what are you doing?”

Once again, you are moving dangerously close to him.

“Hm, I don't know. Tell me,” you say. Your breath feels hot, all over his neck as you lean over him. “Are you mad because I didn't touch you last time? Poor thing.”

“Don't call me—ah”

“I'm sorry, what?” you blow over the bite you left over his neck, hands moving from his torso to his chest. You wait for him to answer, but it seems that unlike some, Haitam is all bark and no bite.

“That shut you up real quick, huh”

“...I hate you.”

“Don't say it too much, Haitam. It might go straight to my head.”

<3!

ahahahaHAHAHAAAAAAA GO OFFFFFFFF

this is already a long post so i’ll put my deranged ramblings thoughts under the cut <333

i read this like i was watching a football game. full on yelling at my monitor. audible gasps. the pettiness, the backhanded compliments, the CALLBACKS??? like how do i add on to this perfection??

i know what you mean!! my friends think he's so dreamy. i will give them that he's handsome, but like. i think its my god given right to knock some sense into this man. i don't know if it's just because i'm a smartass with a quip ready for anything but humbling a man who would probably say something like "hitherto" with 100% seriousness needs a decent ego-check imo

okay i'll leave you with something small of my own.

late at night, behind closed doors, when nothing but his thoughts and hands can keep him company, your sweet visage won’t leave his mind.

it happens almost every night. most times he can will away these shameful urges. but others, nothing but you laid out, bare in front of him, fills his head.

but a slightly different version of you.

one that finally falls to pieces after hard fought battle that he’s finally gained the upper hand in.

and the spoils?

seeing your normally composed face twist in pleasure, gasping, panting under his gaze. tears cling to eyelashes, threatening to spill as your voice pitches, pleading, begging him to touch you.

i’m sure haitham pictures that pretty little sight more than he’d like to admit.

see? i can let him win once in a while. (in his own head at least)

#AAAAAAAAH #they wrote a whole thing for me!!!! #go check them out #tender answers #long post #al haitham smut #alhaitham smut

[the-authoress-writes]

Bradley’s Uncle(s) (And Dad)

Synopsis: The Daggers look through Mav’s TOPGUN class yearbook.

What they see surprises most of them.

In other related news, Bradley would like to bleach his brain.

And his ears.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by this tumblr post, and I churned it out in about half an hour.

I posted this on my main blog, @oh-great-authoress, eleven days ago, but it makes me cackle to the point that I feel that you guys on my fanfiction sideblog should see this too.

Title is inspired by the Fountains of Wayne classic, “Stacy’s Mom”.

Warnings: None, really, but the events of TG:M are completely canon for this, so a certain Admiral is unfortunately not with us in this ficlet.

The daggers were gathered at Mav’s hangar for their weekly get together, when one of them—not Jake, surprisingly—decided to snoop around Mav’s bookshelf.

Fanboy was looking at all the gathered NATOPS’ from various aircraft, when he spied the thin, blue-spined book entitled “TOPGUN Class One, 1986”.

“Hey Mav?” Mickey called out.

“Yeah, kiddo?” came the voice from the trailer, where Mav was heating the food Payback had brought.

“Do you mind if I take a look at one of your books?”

“Knock yourself out!”

“Thanks!” Mickey replied, immediately taking the yearbook, and moving over to the living area, where most of the daggers were. “Hey guys, look what I found!

It’s—”

“Damn—haven’t seen that in an age,” Rooster breathed, rubbing a hand over his upper lip.

“What is that?” Hangman asked, leaning forward, curious as ever.

“It’s Mav’s TOPGUN class yearbook,” Mickey explained as he laid it out. “Mav said I could take a look.”

The first photo was of the whole class together, and more than a few of the daggers silently chuckled at the fact that Mav was one of the shortest people in his class.

There were a few photos included that were also visible on the hangar walls, the versions in the yearbook printed with a small “Courtesy of Carole Bradshaw” or “Courtesy of Pete “Maverick” Mitchell” in the corner.

Then they came to the section with everyone’s official Navy portrait, when suddenly, Phoenix reached out, and grabbed the book, wide-eyed.

“What?” Rooster asked, speaking for everyone, shocked and worried.

She pointed vaguely at the page, her mouth slack.

Halo immediately turned away and spat out her drink.

“Hey Cal, you okay?” Omaha rushed over.

“Yeah,” she rasped, coughing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I just—I never expected Admiral Kazansky to be hot!”

The other daggers immediately leaned to look at the book, and true enough, there was twenty-six year-old Thomas “Iceman” Kazansky in all his youthful glory.

“Well, I’ll be damned, who knew the late COMPACFLT could give me a run for my money?” Jake whistled, while everyone else save Bradley blinked incredulously, trying to reconcile the image they had of Admiral Kazansky with the image they were seeing.

Phoenix scoffed, leafing through the portraits section, “Most of Mav’s class could give you a run for your money, Bagman, you’re hardly God’s gift to women.

And even now, Mav could give you a run for your money,” she declared, ignoring the Texan’s dramatic gasp.

“I know, right, Nat—I mean, you saw those abs—who has those abs at fifty-seven?” Halo whisper-shouted.

“Oh, yeah.” She paused, then blinked. “Gotta admit, though, young Mav hits different.”

Halo leaned and nodded, an admiring smile on her face. “Ooh, yeah, he could totally get it.”

A sharp sound pulled the two women away from their musing, and they turned to see Bradley had slammed his beer bottle down on the coffee table, and he was striding away towards the airstream. “Roo, what are you doing?” Natasha shouted.

“Nope!

No!

I’m not listening to you guys thirsting over my dad and uncles!

No!!”

It’s Traumatize Bradley hours in this blog I guess 😂!

If you look at the nametags they’re all wearing in TG86, the second row says “TOPGUN 1”, so I’m assuming that there’s more than one TOPGUN session a year, at least in the TG/TG:M universe.

Taglist

@valmare (I know you saw it already, but I’m including you because it’s the taglist, sorry Mir!)

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#this is completely predicated on the idea that none of them ever bothered to look at the huge photo of mav and ice in the TOPGUN foyer #which is wholly plausible #bahaha 🤣 #the defense department regrets to inform you your daughters are *ded* because of the navy(al aviators) #officially in my val kilmer era #not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #but phoenix and halo are i guess #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun: maverick fic #mickey fanboy garcia #pete maverick mitchell #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #callie halo bassett #neil omaha vikander #tom iceman kazansky

[twoksoo]

Secret Ending || 01

→ Pairing: Jungkook x reader

→ Genre: videogame!au, fluff, smut (in the future tho), slow burn, historical if you squint your eyes.

→ Rating and warnings: +18, brief depictions of vomit, drinking alcohol, death but not really, everyone is kinda cringe, reader is self-aware and likes to swear a lot

→ Word count: 10,581

→ Summary: After a shady accident in the back of an alley, you wake up reincarnated as the villainess of a mediocre romance video game you've been hooked up with. As you try to avoid triggering the flags that lead to impending death with the power of knowledge, you'll notice that maybe not all paths have been cleared yet.

→ Author’s note: first part of three (hopefully) Totally based on that manwha called “beware the villainess”, it’s so good you should read it. english is not my first language so you should expect mistakes here and there 👁️ also, I've already posted this on ao3

It was in an alley, at the youthful age of twenty-five, that you died.

You thought your life wasn't remarkable at all. And let's not get this the wrong way. Your life wasn't bad per se. You didn't have any sorrowful regret or a groundbreaking backstory that made you somehow special or unique. But you have a loving family, loving friends. A cute, little dog named Diego and an okay apartment in the suburbs of the city. Even a good desk job! After years of sweat and tears in college, all the pain paid off when you managed to get a position at your dream job. Which was your main goal in life. That's it, you accomplished the thing you wanted the most, your family was thriving in your success… and then you didn't know what else to do with yourself after that.

So yeah, pretty boring.

The routine and being an adult, in general, was lackluster to you. Sometimes you even hated your coworkers a little bit. It's not like they were bad, but on certain days, their teasing was too much. You know how older people love to make fun of the younger generations and their not-so-mature hobbies? Like when Tina from human resources noticed you playing a shitty mobile game in the break room and decided to tell everyone in the damn office that you were an “otaku” and that “my thirteen-year-old son plays the same things as her”. Gritting your teeth and fake smiling at the new nicknames those bastards threw at you at every chance was becoming more and more of a burden each day.

You could talk about it for days, always choosing to complain to your best friend on the phone or to the guys in the chatroom of whatever videogame you were playing that afternoon. Just because your hobbies didn't relate to them, they felt entitled to make fun of you, laughing and giggling as if you weren't there.

But it wasn't bullying. You weren't an otaku. You just loved video games, and that was different.

Back in the days, in the old high school days, liking video games and anime and all that stuff was frowned upon. Surely, you went through a lot of trauma because kids would be not so nice to you. So that remained. Just the trauma. You knew your coworkers weren't being bad, just—old habits die hard. You wouldn't let those comments get to you, because liking those kinds of things was not a bad thing. Now it was even cool! A part of “pop culture”, and everyone liked the popular culture. It was called popular for a reason, right?

Well, not if you were a functional adult, obviously.

Even your parents had some opinions about it. You lived two hours away from them, away from your hometown, so you couldn't see them very often, but still tried to call your mother a couple of times a week, and then out of nowhere she would start bugging you about spending all of your money on “Nintendos”, like if that was a thing. Even if you wanted to do it and spend everything you had on cartridges, you had sold out your old console to eat instant noodles for a couple of weeks during the pandemic, and the only thing you used to play with was your work computer. So you didn't need to buy cartridges anymore when you could just download anything for free on the internet, but your mom didn't understand this, and you didn't have the patience to explain it to her. So she keeps teasing.

Being in a new city without friends, you were a little salty that you didn't have the best relationship with the people who worked around you. Even if they were boomers, you felt lonely. Because meeting new people when you were an introvert was a pain in the ass, but you also wanted to fit in, so in the last few weeks, you pretended to be a full-fledged member of society by older people's standards, even if the only thing you wanted to do was to lose yourself in a fictional, pixel world, like Minecraft. But then, being an adult happened, and you didn't have time to play because you felt so tired after work, and now you had to engage in social things and—

And so, when the cute accountant from your office told you that they—he and the other irrelevant people of the office— were going out for drinks after work, you immediately said yes.

Finally, you were going to be a part of the boomer gang! Yay!

Sadly for you, you couldn't handle alcohol very well. After the fourth beer, the room started to spin and then you wanted to puke, but you didn't want to do it in front of everyone, and that was becoming a certain possibility after the shots of tequila keep going down your throat. So instead of going to the bathroom like a normal person would do, you decided to just go home instead, be responsible, and maybe throw up in some dark and totally not questionable alley at the back of the bar.

That was what led you to your early death.

You don’t remember much. You don’t even know what happened. At least you don’t remember pain— which was a good thing. There was only a brief period of darkness and then self-awareness of being fucking dead, followed by a throbbing that started at the back of your skull.

You awoke to so much light, groaning without opening your eyelids and sinking your head into the comfort of the thin mattress beneath you. There’s a weird taste in the back of your throat and you don’t dare to move until your vision stops spinning. Blinking, you push yourself upright, grimacing at the sudden nausea that washes over you.

You don’t believe in an afterlife, but you don’t question yourself when you notice that you are in a very beautiful room. Exposed wooden beams and large paper windows that open to a narrow veranda and a set of stairs that lead to a massive pond in the middle of a garden, you wonder if this is what heaven should look like.

After all, you should be dead.

How cliché is that? You die stupidly and the next thing you know, you are waking up in a strange but lavish place full of incense and some paper lanterns, wearing robes that feel way too expensive for someone like you, as if you were the protagonist of a mediocre webtoon. Yeah, they were all the same. You knew that because you loved to read them over and over, rooting for the main yet weak character that came with a whole harem of gorgeous people behind them. You even went as far as playing games based on that premise.

You shuddered, cringing at the thought. Now that you were dead—or maybe just in a coma, because you don't think what you're experiencing right now is real—, you felt kind of ashamed. Yeah. It was time to stop once you recovered from whatever this was.

Trying to put two and two together, the main song of “Dumb Ways To Die” keeps replaying over and over in your head. You are pretty sure you are not dead because the floor beneath your bare feet feels way too cold and if you died, you know you would be burning in the depths of hell, and not in some fancy but old-looking room.

As you are pondering your whereabouts, the door suddenly slid open, interrupting your thoughts, and a young girl wearing long robes comes into the room, carrying a tray full of things. You halt in your steps and she does the same, eyes widening in a state of astonishment. In a clumsy movement, she sinks to her knees and bows, letting the tray and all its contents roll to the floor. She squeaks as you hurriedly approach her to help her gather the things, keeping her gaze on the floor.

“My lady, please forgive me” she pleads in a breathy voice, bowing even further, her forehead touching the wood underneath her. “I thought you were still bedridden…”

You stare perplexed for a long second at her tiny form crouching in front of you and you take a step back, your hand reaching to scratch at the back of your neck in a nervous tick. The end of your robe is getting wet with whatever was spilled on the flooring and you groan, frightening the girl once more.

“Please have mercy on me!” she yelps.

Wow, how exaggerated.

“Hey, uh… It’s fine.” You croak, your voice is hoarse. Clearing your throat, you crouch down to her level, placing one hand on top of hers. You try to overlook the way she cowers from your touch, but at the same time, you can not ignore how puzzled you are by her behavior, as if she were afraid of you. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” You assert with your gentlest voice and the cute girl takes a short intake of breath. She gazes up, blinking slowly at the expression on your face. You are pretty sure there's a grimace on it, and when you lock eyes with each other, you notice the tears in her eyes, moisture spilling down her gaunt cheeks. She hesitates and you stutter. “Just... Just get up.”

The girl nods slowly, not breaking eye contact. She wipes her eyes with the back of her robe and in utter silence starts picking up the teacup and a single chipped cup that broke when it toppled down to the floor. She hisses quietly when her fingers start bleeding from the broken glass but work quickly before you could intervene. Throwing reserved glances at you from time to time, she finishes putting everything on top of the forgotten tray and takes a step back when you clear your throat for the second time.

“What's your name?” you ask, turning your back to her and focusing hard on the paper windows.

“Yun Cheorin, of the Yun Clan, my lady”

You turn around. She is pretty, with pale skin and bright eyes, long black hair in a traditional updo you've seen in some historical dramas. Wearing robes similar you yours, you keep wondering what the hell is going on. She keeps babbling about something in a shy voice, but you can't pretend to follow whatever she is talking about, because you're being weirded out by her mannerisms and thick accent. And the whole setting around you.

“Okay? Uh, so… Cheorin! I don't want to be rude, but, uh… could you please tell me where we at?”

Her mouth snaps shut. The look she throws at you is the same one your best friend gave to you when she noticed you liked to eat tacos with a chocolate milkshake, a mix between uneasiness and being concerned for your stomach. You are probably reflecting the same look on your face, both of you being so confused by the current exchange.

Cheorin keeps quiet for a second, before answering deliberately. “I'm afraid I don't understand your question, my lady.”

Now you were getting annoyed. And scared.

“Where am I?” you stare hard at her shaking hands, then at her face. She pales at your visible rage and you try to calm down. “Don't get me wrong, this place is beautiful, but… Look, last time I was puking my guts out in a dirty alley. This—” you gesture at the room frantically—, “is not a dirty alley. So, what is this building? Where are we?”

“…You are at the inner court of the Royal Palace”

You blink twice. “…the what?”

“The royal palace of the southern capital. Home of your Highness, King Kim and his family,” she hurriedly turns around to open a window at the other side of the room, showing a grandiose structure made of stone and golden roofs far away, gleaming brilliantly against the sky. “That’s the royal palace and this is your chamber, my lady. You took a hit on the back of your head, maybe that's why—”

You ran off the room before she could finish her sentence. Tripping at the bottom of the stairs, you hear Cheorin’s distressed yell behind you, people in the garden being startled by the commotion. You ignore their whispers and the sting from rocks digging painfully into the palm of your hands. You keep running, yanking, and tossing at the fabric until you feel you can breathe again. Coming to a halt before the shallow pond in the middle of the garden, your knees bend from the shock, ogling at your reflection.

That’s not you. The face reflected on the ripples of water is definitely not your face, neither the sharp eyes nor the high cheekbones, framed by a fresh river of panicked tears.

The girl in the reflection is beautiful, so beautiful it hurts. But it’s not you.

A pair of hands grab your shoulders from behind, trying to shake you out of your stupor. Someone is calling a name, and you think they're referring to you. The words are a mumbled mess in your head, and the world turns dark for a second time that evening.

 —

After three days and two nights of bawling your eyes out, throwing up, and screaming every fifteen minutes, you've come to the realization that you're not dreaming. It's a living nightmare.

Not a single soul has dared to disturb you, until the third day, when Kim Taehyung came to your chambers to pay you a visit. Cheorin announced his impromptu stay over the course of the morning, this time sounding much more self-confident that the first time you met her. And even though you didn’t know who he was at the time—well, you didn’t know anyone—, his name was familiar to you, making you feel anxious about his arrival and its motives behind it. Yet, you didn’t want to ask anyone who he was to you, you were getting tired of the pity they couldn’t hide etched on their faces when you asked something that you supposedly already know.

You came to the conclusion Taehyung was somehow a very important person. The servants looked frantic cleaning, hurriedly walking from here to there, trying to make everything look perfect on such short notice. You wanted to help, feeling bad for not doing anything but drowning in your sorrows the entire day, but they were still afraid of you, you could hear their whispers from behind the walls, so you just stayed away from them and everyone in general.

Someone came to fetch you in the middle of the chaos. Two young girls who you’ve never seen before. They took you to an adjacent bath where they took off your clothes and rubbed you raw until your skin was red and shiny, then they proceeded to dress you with the finest fabrics you've ever felt on your skin. You were all dolled up, feeling so out of place in the middle of an ornamented room, looking at Cheorin and the handsome stranger behind her, flanked by two tall men wearing dark clothes.

“My Lady. Kim Taehyung is here to see you.” Cheorin bows, but not before throwing a reserved glance at the man in front of you. You couldn't judge her. He was really, really handsome.

You nod to her, eager to talk to someone who knows you and doesn't seem afraid of your new bitch face. He smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling at the corners and Cheorin flushes red. She bows one more time before slipping off the room quickly, leaving the door open, and for a second you are not sure if you should follow her to get away from this stranger, who keeps smiling until she disappears from out of sight. Then, he turns to face you, the smile disappearing abruptly from his tanned face.

“Please leave us. And close the door”

His deep voice gave you whiplash. His stone-cold eyes are solely focused on your shocked expression, yet, the instruction is not for you. The two taller men follow his commands without hesitation, retiring silently from the room and closing the door behind them. Taehyung waits a for few seconds before speaking once again, this time much more gravelly.

“It's so much worse than the rumors say.” He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands across his face. Taehyung looks exasperated with you already, but you haven't said anything yet. “They told me you tripped on the king's chamber and knocked your head against a table. How stupid could you be?”

Your mind went blank and you gaped like a fish before answering, “I'm sorry, I'm not following.”

“Do you know how ashamed I felt when I heard about your little show from the other day? Is this a joke to you? You're tarnishing our family reputation.” Taehyung sauntered slowly over to you, gaze glued on your agitated state. His calm demeanor not doing anything to help you calm down yourself. “You think because of a concussion I'm going to believe you are now like this? Like a meek, little mouse? It doesn't suit you, at all. So drop the act and get yourself together” he whispers and you remain silent.

You had a vague idea of what he was talking about. You heard some rumors from inside the paper walls of your room, the servants in the corridors not doing a good job of being subtle. They whispered about an accident, something that happened to you while you were... Attending some matters in the king’s chamber. It was really embarrassing. Some said you tripped and hit your head. Others said the king slapped you so hard you fainted for two days. You’ve heard other interesting theories being whispered among the girls who catered to you, but you weren’t angry about the gossip, after all, you know how bored people can become when they don’t have internet.

Taehyung keeps staring at you. A soft touch from his finger on your cheek was enough to anchor you back to reality. “Kim Taehee, at least you remember your name, right?” the warmth from his touch was distracting, but not enough to stop the nervousness running through your veins. “The servants did say you hit your head pretty hard. They also said someone saw you with Jeon Jungkook. What were you thinking? Running around with that lowly guard when you are the favorite concubine of the king.” His hand keeps wandering, softly touching your mouth, then the tip of your nose. It was unnerving, his whispered words hard, yet his touch so gentle. “You are not going to throw away all the hard work our parents put into raising you, little one. What would you have done if Seokjin knew about your escapades? He would behead the entire family!”

You stammered, grabbing his hand and pushing it away, disturbed by how openly he was touching you. You said the first thing that came to your mouth. “You are pretty rude.”

Kim Taehyung scoffs, “don't talk to me like that. I am your eldest brother” he replies, not moving an inch.

Brother? But you didn't have any brother…

You take a step back, looking straight into his eyes and replying with the strongest voice you can muster, “but I can't even remember you. I don't think I like you…”

“I don't do it either. No one does, actually.” Taehyung grabs you by the face, his strong fingers sinking painfully into your cheeks. He leans forward until both of your foreheads are touching and his warm breath grazes your skin. “If you weren't so pretty not even the king would like you” he hisses and the corners of his mouth quirk up. Pushing you aside, he plasters the fakest smile you've ever seen, and you rub the red mark of his fingers on your face. “I'm doing you a favor telling you this, sister. Stay away from Jeon Jungkook. Don't ruin our plans because you want to fool around with some scumbag.”

Patting the imaginary dust from his clothes, he slid the door open, a ray of sunshine illuminating his head like a halo. Like an angel, how ironic.

“Remember I have eyes everywhere”

 

—

 

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Tossing and turning in the mattress, you keep thinking about Taehyung’s words—Taehyung’s threat. Something he said was nagging at the back of your mind, something familiar. The names he spit around, your name in this new universe you lived in were oddly natural to your ears. Kim Taehee. Kim Taehyung. Kim Seokjin—the more you tried to think about it, the stronger your migraine gets. Repeating those names over and over in your brain was exhausting, it sounds like a fan chant for a K-pop group. A K-pop group you were part of.

You were the royal concubine of your Highness, King Seokjin. Seemingly, you were also his favorite consort woman. So you were pretty much a part of his harem. And the first in line to the throne.

But there was something else you were trying hard to understand.

Yun Cheorin… Jeon Jungkook…

“Holy fuck”

A lightbulb went on inside your brain. Leaping out of the mattress, you start to undress, pulling away the thick fabric from your long legs. Heart beating erratically in your chest, your eyes found a heart-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thighs, a cute little mole that was somehow the only blemish in the soft expanse of skin.

“No. This can't be real”. You gasp and as if your hands were burned, you let the garb drop in its place. Letting your mind wander is harder than you thought when there are so many bits of information coming to you at the same time, an unnerved feeling dropping over you.

A couple of months ago, maybe at the lowest point of your entire life, the lack of social interactions made you delirious, almost losing your sanity in the process. None of the dating apps worked for you, and you felt so lonely, you were desperate. So you did what you knew best.

Videogames.

One day, a random video on YouTube recommended you a new type of game, some kind of interactive visual novel. Otome games. You just had to click on some text and your decisions lead you to a different path every single time. When you realized what was going on, you’d already played like ten different ones. There was something about all the beautiful people pining for the noble, yet stupid and overpowered protagonist in every single route. Sure, It wasn’t the best thing you’ve played, but if you tried hard enough, you could pretend it was you living those fantastic stories and not a depressed human just clicking random words on a computer at three in the morning.

There was one that caught you the most. “Secret Ending: All Paths Lead To Glory!” was only two dollars on the steam shop when you first saw it. It took three weeks on your shopping cart before you were bored enough to actually buy it. The name was stupid, the main protagonist was stupid and you felt stupid, but you couldn’t stop playing. Eight hours and a familiar-sized bag of Cheetos later and you already cleared all the paths. The main plot of the story was about a meek girl from the countryside whose parents had used their meager influence to get her a job in the king’s palace and ended up being the new queen of the country. Spoilers! Not all of the endings were bad. As its title says, all paths did lead to glory, so if the main protagonist didn’t get the love of the king, she would end up with another hunk of a guy. Maybe the heartless general of the imperial army, or a shy knight from another kingdom. You could even date the damn gardener, for fuck sake. And the only thing they all have in common is that they’re super hot and were madly in love with the protagonist.

Also, in all of the paths, the villainess dies.

It was so predictable, in every darn story you’ve ever read, in every shitty romance book you obsessed with, the bitchy villainess or main antagonist of whatever was in the middle of the protagonist's epic adventure had to suffer a horrible ending. Take for account Loki. He deserved so much more and you got so angry with what they’ve done to him at the beginning of one of the final parts of The Avengers, that you canceled your subscription to Disney plus. Couldn’t they see he was suffering? Thor was an awful brother, you resented him and the rest of the heroes for a solid two days before forgetting and moving on with your life.

In “Secret Ending: All Paths Lead To Glory!”™ this was not the exception. The main antagonist was either beheaded by the king in a public execution or impaled by the sword of a guard. Or killed by falling off a cliff. Or exiled from the country. None of the mentioned before were a decent way to get rid of the bad guy of the story. They were kinda cliché. But you didn’t pay any attention to undeveloped and boring characters. And that was exactly what the villainess of that main otome game was. Pretty, but bad to the core. And boring. So boring.

She also had a tiny mole on one of her legs. A heart-shaped birthmark, which, to you, was such an irrelevant fact to know. But you've seen some x-rated unofficial drawings on some blog and it stuck to your brain ever since.

Her name was Kim Taehee. The youngest daughter of a wealthy family from the capital, who robbed the heart of the king and became his favorite concubine, the first candidate to become queen of the country and who also was annoying and bitchy towards the heroine, the cute Yun Cheorin, from the Yun Clan. In the main path, she tries to kill the king in a jealousy attack—failing miserably, because bad guys never get away unscathed—, and gets killed by one of his most loyal guards when trying to flee from the city.

Your knees are too weak to carry you to the mirror in the corner of the room, so you crawl until you are in front of it, taking a look at your stupefied face. The light coming from the paper lantern in the corner was enough for you to see the resemblance, it's barely there, but it's there. And then everything clicks.

Maybe you are in hell.

You don't scream. You don't cry. You've done that a lot in the past few days, and honestly? You've become so tired.

That doesn't mean you can accept this new alternative reality you suddenly lived in. It was shocking, but hey! It could be worse, right?

You drop on the thin mattress once again, wishing you could discover the secrets of the universe by boring holes with your eyes on the ceiling. But life doesn't work like that, and you were going to do something about it very soon.

Because if this… crazy, absurd theory of yours is real, and you are indeed inside of a fictional otome videogame, that means you were the villainess of the story.

And you were going to die again.

 

—

After two weeks, you still had a difficult time trying not to get lost in the palace; the craving for exploring and discovering new places was more powerful than the fear of imminent death. The palace was like a miniature city in itself, a labyrinth made of wood, stone, and paper walls. Dark-roofed buildings that looked all the same, pristine gardens raked with white sand, and growing bamboo that was far too flawless to be real. Nobles, draped in opulent hanboks embroidered with threads of gold and silver, moved with graceful precision, their every action a careful dance of social etiquette. Stoic guards doing surveillance or walking the halls, and servants scurrying from one place to another, none of them paying attention to their surroundings, always hurrying to reach their destinations. Their eyes rarely met yours, their gazes darting away like startled deer at the sight of a predator. You were an enigma, an outsider, and the weight of their wariness pressed upon you.

Everything seemed perfectly unrealistic, like a utopian maze, a fortress designed to baffle the adversaries and threats from the king and his relatives. Narrow halls that led to nowhere, pebble-covered walls blocking the paths, the scrutiny of someone's gaze on the back of your head, frenzied whispers, and furtive glances. The fragility of the situation, the knowledge that every step you took was being scrutinized by watchful eyes, threatened to consume your sanity.

But amidst the chaos of your thoughts, there was a flicker of defiance. You would not succumb to the suffocating expectations of your role as a concubine. No, you would carve your own path, even if it meant venturing into the unknown.

But hey, at least some of the people attending directly to you were getting warmer and less afraid of your presence each day, which to you was an absolute win. Still, loneliness was slowly eating you, and with loneliness and so much time to kill, think and daydream were your new favorite hobbies.

You were terrified of forgetting. As the days passed, you often wondered if there would be a time when you wouldn't recall your old life. You often daydreamed about your family and your friends. About the music you would be listening to at the moment, or the foods you would be eating. About the life you've never got to have. No lover, no children, no nothing. You were dead.

Had people even mourned you? Or did they just go on with their lives as if nothing happened?

Thinking about it was painful enough to not want to dwell on it. Perhaps it would be better if those thoughts could just fade away; To be happy and blissfully ignorant of what was going on at the moment in real life. It didn't matter anyway. This was your new reality.

The only thing you could not forget, even if you wanted to, was the plot of the damn game. Your life depended on it. The first night of realization was spent on writing and analyzing every single detail of the plot —Or at least, the things you could remember. The lore, everything about the fake history of a fake country, which was loosely based on Korea during the Joseon dynasty. Which, of course, you didn’t know much at all. Only what was shown on television, and that was not a relief. You also tried to remember all the routes but failed miserably because you didn’t finish them all… You were pretty sure there was a hidden one you failed to find. You also thought about what and whom to avoid. And after a long time pondering your options, a new plan started to develop...

How could you survive and evade death in this unfamiliar world?

Step number one: discard any weaknesses.

It was challenging to be anything other than polite in this alternative reality where everyone feared you. It might have been considered mean-spirited, but you found joy in the bewildered expressions on the girls' faces whenever you responded with a sincere "thank you" as they brought you meals or brushed your long hair. After all, Kim Taehee's in-game personality was predictably obnoxious, inflicting pain and psychological abuse on others because she could get away with it, thanks to her favored position as King Kim Seokjin's concubine. But in the game, all that changed when the main protagonist, Yun Cheorin, arrived at the palace.

And now, that moment had arrived.

During the first few days, you anticipated that Cheorin would be a problem. She was your sworn enemy, at least in the game, and the sole reason for your demise in each route. You attempted to avoid any encounters with her whenever possible, but it proved challenging since she was one of the servants. Even if you ceased your bullying behavior towards her, misunderstandings were still likely to occur, and that was a risk you were unwilling to take. Consequently, you learned to scurry away from her and the guards who patrolled the corridors, protecting you from... whatever threats may come. For now, nobody sought to end your life, so you were considered safe.

That brings us to step number two. Develop several abilities to ensure your survival.

Fortunately, King Kim Seokjin and a portion of his army were absent. Rumor had it that he had journeyed to another city to attend to some matters, and his return date remained uncertain. Thus, Cheorin had not yet encountered the king, providing you with a window of opportunity, which you intended to exploit.

Your main plan was to run away at the first opportunity. Maybe since the king was away, this could be the perfect time to escape, but because you were so bad at surviving—I mean… you died while throwing up, you've decided to learn how to make the most of your advantage, which was knowing the damn plot.

So, you would take a horse and go far, far away, to a land where people couldn’t recognize you and start all over. But Kim Taehee was no better than you at survival skills. You didn’t know how to plow the land to harvest food so that you wouldn’t starve. You didn’t know how to use a bow to hunt animals and eat their meat. You wouldn’t even talk about your fighting skills—completely null. And lastly, you couldn't even ride a horse. Basically, you were doomed. But at least you had a little bit of time.

Learning how to ride a horse was supposedly the easiest step, yet you couldn't get the hang of it. In your previous life, you've only seen horses from afar, and the thought of riding one terrified you. Hoseok, the stable boy, was nice enough to teach you the basics of it, but that was it. So, every day, at dawn, you would go wandering through the halls, playing hide and seek with the guards and maids trying to find you in the ornate maze. Then, you would go to pester Hoseok during the rest of the day before a guard would come to take you back to your chambers. At first, it felt monotonous, solely preparing for an escape from impending death. However, as the days passed, a peculiar camaraderie blossomed between you and him. You would bring him sweets from your food, and he would make small talk with you.

It became a routine between both of you. You would attack his weak point, which was feeding him with food, and he would entertain you the whole day. Such interactions were clearly frowned upon in this fabricated society, where unmarried men and women were discouraged from speaking with each other, especially when involving a royal concubine. Consequently, Hoseok maintained a serious facade while sharing tales of his family and anecdotes from the town where he grew up—a territory located a week's ride away, all this while eating sugary treats that were previously hidden in your robes.

Befriending him was no coincidence. You deliberately sought him, seeking his company and winning him over with sweets, mainly because it was part of the plot in one of the alternative routes. Cheorin would make friends with him and in return, he would show her a hidden gap to come and go from the palace grounds whenever she wanted. You were pretty sure you could find it on your own, but having Hoseok as an ally and as a friend was a plus; he was charming and entertaining.

Currently, as the midday sun cast its warm golden glow upon the palace, inside a small chamber adjacent to the stables, Hoseok sat on a worn wooden stool, crumbs from the cake he was munching littering the ground around him, both of you watching a couple of birds digging the soil with their beaks, enjoying a momentary respite from the bustling palace. The room exuded an earthy scent, a mixture of hay and the faint aroma of horses. Sparse beams of sunlight pierced through the cracks in the wooden walls, creating dancing patterns on the dirt floor.

As he took another bite of the cake, savoring its sweetness, you watched in fascination as his eyes closed momentarily, relishing the flavors that danced on his tongue. Hoseok was very diligent with his work, waking up at dawn and tending to the animals with such care that you somehow envied his life. He even made such an ordinary life look so appealing. It seemed… so simple. That was a faraway dream of yours.

A gentle breeze rustled through the bamboo grove nearby, causing the slender stalks to sway gracefully, their leaves whispering in harmony. The rhythmic sound provided a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Hoseok," you began, your voice carrying a note of curiosity, "tell me more about your family. How did they end up in the capital city?"

He leaned back, brushing his fingers off, his touch leaving behind a faint residue of sugar on his pants. His gaze turned distant as he reminisced. "My father was a skilled healer, sought after by many in our hometown. When news reached the king's ears of his abilities, he was summoned to the capital to serve the royal family. My mother and siblings accompanied him, eager for a better life and the opportunities the city promised."

"They say the king spares no expense when it comes to the well-being of his family and those in his service," you remarked, a hint of fake admiration lacing your words.

Hoseok nodded, his expression reflecting both gratitude and exhaustion. "Indeed, the king is generous. He has provided us with a comfortable home and ensured that we lack nothing. But the demands of the palace are rigorous, and the work can be taxing."

As you took a moment to observe Hoseok's weary countenance, a newfound appreciation for him emerged. The lustrous sheen of sweat on Hoseok's forehead mirrored the dedication and labor required to maintain the horses and care for the palace's stable. You almost felt bad for what you were about to ask him.

"You work tirelessly," you continued, a touch of empathy coloring your words. "The horses must be well-cared for, as they are integral to the smooth functioning of the palace. It's no small responsibility."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds and the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves nearby. Hoseok's eyes met yours, his gaze unwavering. "I feel deeply honored by your compliments; however, it is uncommon for you to engage in such dialogue... Might there be something that requires my attention?"

As you contemplated your next question, the air grew cooler, carrying a refreshing breeze that offered respite from the day's heat. The sounds of distant laughter and muffled conversations drifted towards you, reminding you of the palace's constant hum of activity.

"Hoseok," you finally spoke, breaking the silence, "what do you dream of beyond these walls?"

"I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid I do not understand."

"Be honest with me. When your duties are done and the sun sets, what do you yearn for?"

"…Freedom," he said cautiously, his voice carrying a hint of longing. "To explore the vast lands beyond the palace, to witness the beauty of nature untouched by the hands of man. I dream of a life where I can ride through open fields, unburdened by the weight of responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, I’m deeply thankful to His Majesty and all that he’s done for my family and me… But being here was not a dream of mine."

Your heart swelled with empathy, realizing that beneath different circumstances, your desires aligned. Clad in a vibrant hanbok that accentuated your delicate features, you leaned against a wooden pillar. Your eyes, a mixture of curiosity and concern, never wavered from Hoseok's face. You could feel the weight of your request pressing upon you, a mixture of desperation and determination driving your desire to step beyond the palace walls. Your palms, slightly moist from a combination of nerves and the humid summer air, rested gently against the silk fabric of your hanbok.

A moment of contemplation passed before you spoke, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability laced with resolve. "You are being very honest, and I respect that. So, I think it would be fair if I spoke with the same honesty as you."

Summoning your strength, you looked into Hoseok's eyes, your voice quivering with a blend of desperation and sincerity. "I need your help," you began, the words hanging delicately in the air. "You are the only one on this grounds that I can trust... And I'm really sorry for asking this. I want to— No, I need you to help me go outside the palace."

Hoseok's expression transformed, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. Concern etched deep lines upon his forehead, while empathy softened the corners of his eyes. His hands clenched the wooden stool, his grip tightening as he absorbed the weight of your words.

Silence settled between you, pregnant with unspoken thoughts and uncharted possibilities.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled, the breath escaping his lips carrying with it a mixture of understanding and resolve. He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a newfound determination. "You speak of trust, and I understand the weight of such words," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of trepidation. "In this world of secrets and hidden agendas, finding someone to confide in is a rare gift. Your sincerity does not go unnoticed, and I appreciate your honesty."

A surge of relief washed over you, a glimmer of hope rekindling within your heart.

"My Lady... I understand your longing for freedom, but you must know the risks we face. The palace guards and watchmen are ever vigilant, their eyes trained to detect any suspicious activity. Should they discover our secret, the consequences could be dire."

You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach as the gravity of your request settled upon you once again. "Hoseok, I know this is a lot to ask," you began, your voice laced with genuine remorse. "But I have no other choice. I cannot bear the confines of this palace any longer. There is a world waiting for me, waiting for us. I’m… I’m not going forever. I just want to see the outside for a little while. Being here it’s boring me to death. Without Seokjin… I think I might lose my head.”

Hoseok's expression grew pensive, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt or hidden motives. The summer breeze carried with it the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the anticipation and uncertainty that hung in the air.

He sighed, a mixture of understanding and concern etched across his face. "I sense the desperation in your words, the yearning for something more. But stepping beyond these palace walls is not a decision to be taken lightly. There are dangers, both seen and unseen, that could threaten your life. Are you truly prepared for it?"

Your heart tightened with a mixture of gratitude and urgency, knowing that Hoseok's honesty held the key to your shared destiny. You straightened your posture, a determined resolve shining through your eyes as you met his gaze, unyielding. "Yes, I understand the risks," you replied, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions within. "But remaining within this palace, confined to a fate chosen for me, is a fate worse than any threat that may lie beyond."

You could see the struggle within Hoseok's expression, torn between duty and the allure of liberation. Your request was no small matter, and his involvement would undoubtedly jeopardize his own safety. The weight of the decision hung in the air, the silence stretching between you like a tangible force.

As the seconds ticked by, you silently implored the universe for a sign—a glimmer of affirmation that would solidify your bond and sway Hoseok's heart.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hoseok's face softened, his guarded expression giving way to a flicker of determination. His voice, though still tinged with caution, held a newfound resolve. "This wall is not impenetrable," he speaks in a hushed tone, his eyes scanning the area for any prying eyes. "The hidden hollow you seek lies within the palace grounds, concealed by overgrown vines and bushes. It is a place forgotten by time, where whispers of the past echo amidst the shadows."

You had to admit, the way everyone spoke so... eloquently was kinda annoying. Very annoying. Instead of going straight to the point, everyone spoke in riddles. Luckily, for you, you already had an idea of where that damn hollow was located, but still. You absorbed every word, committing the description to memory. It was just the beginning of your plan after all, the key to unlocking a world where you could be more than just a pawn in a game.

Hoseok, his voice filled with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, continued, "Remember, Taehee, time is our ally, and impatience can be our downfall. You must find the opportune moment to carry out this clandestine venture when the palace guards are distracted and the gaze of suspicion averted."

Clasping your hands together, you took a step closer to Hoseok, the gap between you narrowing.

"Don't worry about it. I just know the perfect time."

 

—

 

As you cautiously made your way through the palace grounds, the moon cast a soft glow upon the intricate architecture that surrounded you. The palace walls stood tall and imposing, your footsteps echoing on the wooden pathway, reverberating through the quiet night. With each step, you could feel the weight of your decision pressing upon you. The palace, with its grandeur and opulence, seemed to hold secrets within its very stones, secrets that whispered tales of power, intrigue, and untold stories.

Taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart, you squeezed through the unguarded opening, the rough stone grazing against your skin. The overgrown vines and thorny bushes seemed to guard the secret passage, as if warning you of the risks that lay beyond. The world outside awaited you, its vastness and possibilities calling to your adventurous spirit. You emerged into a realm untouched by the rigid rules of palace life, where freedom danced on the whispering breeze.

Stepping into the wilderness beyond the palace walls, you found yourself enveloped by a symphony of nature's sounds. The first steps beyond the palace walls were hesitant yet filled with a newfound exhilaration. The forest was alive with nocturnal creatures, their rustlings and calls forming an orchestra of life. Moonlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting ethereal patterns on the forest floor, illuminating your path as you ventured further into the unknown.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, moss, and decaying leaves, and the soft rustling of wildlife echoed through the trees. Your senses heightened, and you became acutely aware of the soft caress of a gentle breeze against your skin, carrying with it a sense of liberation and the promise of a new beginning

Lost in the wilderness, your excitement soon gave way to a flicker of apprehension. You realized the enormity of your decision, the uncertainty that lay ahead. Doubt gnawed at you, threatening to dim your resolve.

“It’s just the first step, just the first”, you whispered to yourself, paranoid from the lack of light, and even more afraid that someone could spot you in the middle of the night, which would crumble all your machiavellian plans. So, without thinking twice, you started to wander deeper into the forest, the path becoming increasingly obscured. The pale moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. Shadows danced and swayed, giving life to the stillness of the night. The occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the trees, as if guiding you further into the heart of the mysterious wilderness.

You continued your solitary journey, following the winding path that disappeared and reappeared like a mystical thread woven by nature itself. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if keeping its secrets close to its chest. The occasional gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, caressing your face and bringing with it a hint of earthy fragrance.

The forest swallowed you whole, and the familiar landmarks of the palace were left far behind. The path, now barely discernible, meandered aimlessly through the undergrowth, leading you deeper into its embrace.

As the forest grew denser, your progress slowed. Thorny bushes and tangled roots obstructed your way, requiring careful navigation to avoid their grasp. Each step became a deliberate choice, as you weaved your way through the natural obstacles. A sense of vulnerability mingled with a sense of awe, reminding you of the insignificance of your presence in this vast wilderness.

As time passed by, fatigue began to take its toll, and your legs grew heavy. The only thing you wanted to do by going outside, was to become familiar with the nearby grounds, so it would make it easier to escape once the time arrived. Your job here was done, but just as you contemplated turning back, the faint sound of trickling water reached your ears. A renewed sense of purpose surged within you, and you followed the sound, eager to discover the source of the hidden creek.

With each step, the sound grew louder, resonating through the trees like a soothing lullaby. The undergrowth cleared, revealing a picturesque scene that seemed plucked from a fairy tale. The creek, adorned with sparkling ripples, flowed gently between moss-covered rocks. Moonlight bathed the scene in a mystical glow, casting shimmering reflections upon the water's surface.

You approached the creek cautiously, drawn to its serene beauty. The water, crystal clear and inviting, beckoned you to its embrace. You knelt down at its edge, dipping your hand into the coolness. The sensation sent a refreshing wave through your weary body, invigorating your spirit.

You stood immobile for a second, thinking about the absurdity of everything. "God, this is really cliché. And now what?"

As the midnight hour enveloped the forest in an air of mystery, a shiver of fear coursed through your veins. Each rustle of leaves, each hoot of an owl, felt like a piercing reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. You moved cautiously, acutely aware of the consequences of being caught wandering beyond the palace grounds.

Suddenly, through the dense foliage, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the moonlit backdrop. It was not a bandit that stood before you, but a royal guard, clad in a resplendent uniform that spoke of duty and authority. His regal presence commanded attention, every inch of him radiating discipline and vigilance. The polished armor clung to his form, glinting dully in the faint moonlight, a shield against any threat that dared to challenge the palace. His eyes, sharp and watchful, locked onto you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was a flicker of surprise in his gaze, quickly masked by a stern expression. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he assessed the situation, his grip on the hilt of his sword betraying his readiness to defend.

He assesses you carefully, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of threat as he inquires, "Your Majesty?"

Oh shit.

"S-Sir, uh, you have mistaken my identity. I am merely an ordinary peasant," you wince, regretting the immediate response that left a bitter taste in your mouth. His eyes become fixated on your hanbok, the opulent fabric reserved for noble individuals. You force a smile, delicately brushing off imaginary dust from your robes. "I should not be present here. I sincerely apologize," you offer, hoping to alleviate the escalating tension.

He pauses, his gaze lingering upon you intently. "Wait," he interjects, a tinge of curiosity resonating in his voice. "Shouldn't there be someone guarding you? It seems unlikely that you are a mere peasant. Your appearance suggests a more distinguished position, possibly that of a concubine."

Your eyes narrow slightly in surprise at his perceptive remark. "And what if I was?" you challenged, a hint of defiance lacing your voice.

He chuckles softly, a mocking undertone underscoring his words. "With your audacious tongue? If you were truly insignificant, you would have met your demise already. Rumors suggest the emperor possesses ruthless tendencies. He would not hesitate to make an example of you if you dared to address him in such a manner. However, your striking beauty might be the reason you remain unscathed," he muses, his gaze scanning your face. "He did this to your pretty face?" he asks, his fingers twitching as if tempted to reach out, gesturing towards the fading mark of violence on your face—a testament to your beloved brother's actions.

A surge of anger pulsed through you, and you instinctively took a step back, asserting your boundaries. "Do not dare lay a hand on me. He would never inflict such harm," you emphasize, your voice resonating with a blend of defiance and conviction. Yet, a sliver of doubt manages to creep into your words.

"Hmm. Your certainty seems wavering," he retorts, a hint of skepticism tainting his tone. There is an undeniable air of unpredictability surrounding him, a constant reminder of the peril he represents.

Aware of the precariousness of your situation, you urged him to step aside. "Please, allow me to pass. I am certain that there are those who seek my presence at this very moment."

"As you wish," he replies, stepping back slightly but still blocking your path.

Just as you're about to push past him, tension heavy in the air, another figure materialized, seemingly from out of nowhere. A young man stepped into the clearing, his presence commanding attention despite his modest attire. The simplicity of his cotton garb and unadorned appearance marked him as a commoner, a world away from the opulence of the palace. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of strength about him, as if his soul carried the weight of untold stories. His gaze met yours, wariness flickering in his dark eyes. His broad shoulders and powerful thighs hinted at physical prowess honed through labor and discipline. In the depths of his inky hair and the warmth of his tanned skin, there was a raw magnetism that defied societal boundaries. There was a wariness in his gaze, as if he had stumbled upon a scene he hadn't anticipated. He calls out, interrupting the tense standoff. "Taehee?"

Quickly, an idea flickered in your mind, an impulsive gamble to diffuse the tension that crackled in the air. His presence brought a flicker of hope. With a mixture of relief and apprehension, you seized upon the opportunity to redirect the situation.

"Oh, there you are. My escort guard," you spoke with a tinge of relief, the words dripping with false reassurance.

He bowed respectfully, acknowledging your supposed status. "My Lady." The moonlight played upon the slope of his nose, highlighting the handsome features that seemed to belong to another time. At that moment, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to him, a bond forged in the midst of uncertainty.

With an unwavering gaze, you address the guard in a tone that conveys both authority and a touch of impatience. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly capable of finding my way back to where I belong. Now, kindly step aside and allow me to continue on my path."

The guard hesitates, his eyes narrowing as he evaluates your words and demeanor. After a tense moment, he relents slightly, stepping aside to grant you a narrow passage. "Very well," he concedes, a glimmer of respect underlying his tone. "But do not think for a moment that my watchful eyes won't be upon you. Should any irregularities arise, the consequences shall fall upon your shoulders."

Acknowledging his warning with a nod, you gracefully move past him, striding purposefully toward your intended destination. The guard's gaze follows you, still filled with a measure of skepticism and curiosity, leaving the air tinged with a sense of lingering intrigue.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," you add, talking to the flabbergasted guard, masking your rage with a veil of sarcasm. Grasping the stranger elbow’s, you pulled him closer, silently urging him to play along. The stranger seemed momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening with surprise, but he quickly regained his composure and fell into step beside you. Together, you navigated the treacherous terrain, the dense thicket obscuring your path. The forest seemed to conspire against you, intertwining branches and casting long shadows that danced in the moonlight. The urgency in your steps grew, fueled by the fear of being discovered, your pulse pounding in your ears like a war drum.

"I'm sorry. I got nervous, and this was the first thing that came into my mind," you confessed after a few minutes of silence to your unexpected companion, stealing a glance at him. You studied his face, your gaze filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. He was really handsome. "You know my name, and yet you seem surprised that I led you here. Do I know you?" You inquired, a hint of curiosity and confusion creeping into your voice.

He stops abruptly, his gaze searching yours, a puzzled look that quickly gets masked under stoicism, “Jeon Jungkook. Do you… you don't remember me?”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course you remember Jeon Jungkook. Well, not really. Not you, right now, as Kim Taehee. But you remember him from the game. After all, he is the one who ultimately kills you on the main route.

How convenient is it to cross paths with the person you should be avoiding at any cost? Jeon Jungkook is not a merely guard in service of the king, he is basically his right hand, his best friend, and the most fucking skilled swordsman in the entire fake country. He was not appointed as the general of the imperial army just because Seokjin used him as a… you know, someone who does illegal things in the name of the royal crown. A savage, merciless man, blood thirst for revenge and whatever Seokjin tells him to do. At the end of the main route, he ends up killing Kim Taehee, beheading her in front of everybody, and then they all cheer and celebrate and everybody gets their happily ever after. You should be running away from him, and put as much space as you could between the two of you, but how could you do it? If the devil himself seems to be on a first-name basis with you and also has the eyes of a baby deer.

It’s not fair at all.

Torn between the desire to reveal your true connection and the weight of secrecy that still bounds you, you try to collect yourself.

"Jungkook," you whisper softly, savoring the sound of his name. "That name doesn't ring a bell, sorry. But we must be very close if you call me by my given name. I have to apologize, ever since the accident, it's like… like if I was a different person. I can't remember much," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of fear and frustration.

His expression reflected a blend of disappointment and understanding, a delicate dance between the familiarity of the past and the uncertainty of the present. "Uh, yes... I understand," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of empathy and a longing to bridge the gaps of your fragmented memory. “I am nothing more than a guard in service to the king,” he lies, his eyes searching yours for a hint of recognition. A bittersweet pang tugged at your heart as you met his gaze. Memories threatened to surface, but they remained just beyond your grasp, lost in the fog of forgotten moments.

You remain silent, the path before you growing narrower, the overgrown vegetation threatening to impede your progress. You reached out a hand to steady yourself against a sturdy tree trunk, feeling the rough bark beneath your fingertips. "We must tread carefully," you cautioned, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Jungkook's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. "My Lady, if I may ask... what led you to venture into the forest alone?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

A flicker of vulnerability passed across your features, momentarily breaking the façade of regality. There was no point in telling a lie. "I needed a respite from the suffocating constraints of palace life," you confessed, your voice tinged with a hint of longing. "To experience the freedom that lies beyond those gilded walls. And I can't do that in daylight."

Understanding filled Jungkook's eyes as he nodded in empathy. "I can only imagine the weight of your responsibilities," he murmured, his voice gentle. "But please know that you are not alone in this. I am here by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come."

After a while, curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't help but inquire about Jungkook's sudden appearance earlier. "How did you find me, Jungkook?" you ask, your tone gentle yet filled with intrigue.

He paused for a moment, his steps slowing as he collected his thoughts. "I happened to be passing through these woods on an errand when I heard voices," he began, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "I couldn't ignore the possibility that someone might be in danger, so I followed the sound. Little did I expect to stumble upon Your Highness in such a precarious situation."

A mixture of awe and gratitude filled your heart as you regarded Jungkook. "It seems the heavens themselves conspired to bring us together," you mused sarcastically, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's gaze met yours, a flicker of warmth and understanding shining in his eyes. "There is an undeniable bond between us, My Lady," he admitted, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. "In this uncertain world, I promise to protect you with my life and stand by your side, should you wish it."

"Okay, so, Jungkook," you continue, redirecting the conversation to the urgency of your situation. It was getting really awkward. "Could you please take me back to the palace grounds? I got lost," you implored, hoping that his presence would guide you safely through the labyrinth of uncertainty.

Jungkook nodded, a determined look crossing his face. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety, My Lady," he vows, his voice filled with unwavering resolve. "Even if it means stepping into unfamiliar territory and facing the unknown."

You glance at him, a glimmer of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Indeed, fate has a way of surprising us," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I have faith in my ability to adapt and play the role."

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #fanfic #jk

[savvythepirate]

How they would react to you calling them cute/adorable

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader/ Jack Sparrow x reader / Hector Barbossa x reader

Warnings: None

Requested by: @hahajkjkmfs

The Request:

Hey!

May I request some headcanons for Jack, Hector and Davy reacting to being called cute/adorable? :)

***

Jack Sparrow:

• Jack wouldn’t know how to feel at first, but then shyness is the first emotion that settles in him, and everyone who is acquainted with Jack Sparrow should know well enough to not expect much of a reaction other then his sarcasm.

• It was shocking to say the least, as you notice how Jack was trying to hide the fact he was starting to blush. Of course for him, it wasn’t doing him any favors as you see the bright pink flush rising at least a mile away.

• The next reaction, he immediately tries to shake it off with a curt scoff before turning away without another word said, by himself anyways. One of the big differences between you two is that you are not afraid to use your voice when you feel opinionated, so you call out from behind, not allowing him to leave without another word that comes from you.

• Such as, “Deny it all you want, Sparrow! I damn well know it and so do you!”

• Jack continues onward without stopping or even to look slightly back at you as you remain in your current position.

• But later on, when it’s just the two of you alone, Jack will later approach you about it, all ready to confront while demanding a reason for calling him what you did at the same time. The first response you’d give would be an innocent look given to him, as if you were a small child getting caught sneaking a cookie back to bed with her/him. Following by the most innocent answer anyone could give, but no better then you.

• “I just find you awfully cute when you don’t know what you’re doing or even saying.”

• Jack being Jack holds his breath as he decides that was a good enough reason for him to swallow and abandons the subject once again.

Davy Jones:

• First off, it’s important to always keep in mind to remember the bizarre soft spot Davy holds only for you after using the term, “adorable” on him.

• The first response you got out of your captain was the look everyone knows all too well. The same look given when he is very displeased but you know not to take it personally, or take to heart in general, as he would make sure you know that a little later on. If it happens in front of the crew, he would give you the same kind of treatment, but with some slack. He would only gently push you aside before walking away from the matter.

• Everyone was quite surprised by how you handled that, as most of them would push it further, despite of knowing the consequences they would have to face with no hope of escape. You were privately deemed as first mate, and that information was kept between you and Jones. For the most part, it did. But it wasn’t until Davy realized that he’s been too soft on you one too many times in front of the crew and therefore, it was revealed.

• It was no longer a secret, but now it was out in the open, some of the mates grew envious of you, having them to not care too much about you, enough to even turn against you at times. Turning away from you in a way that they get the ultimate punishment, which in other words, is their own death sentence. Cutting their time on the Dutchman short and being sent down to the depths of the sea.

• Though Davy would throw spit at the name every once in a while, and he would never admit it, but he silently loves that you call him that. He wasn’t too fond of it happening out in the open, he fears that it would make him look weak more then anything else. Davy Jones valued and was entitled to his reputation too much to let such a thing happen that could possibly destroy that part of him.

• Davy would report back to you about his true feelings later on.

Hector Barbossa:

•The first time Barbossa heard you calling him “adorable” he tried to reason with himself he only misheard or that you couldn’t possibly have meant that for him, but to another mate onboard.

• When it happened the second time, he knew it wasn’t a mistake, he heard you loud and clear this time. Just the thought of you giving him any nickname drove him crazy, given to the feelings he had gained for you over time. Feelings he never felt before, or had felt for anyone else in that matter.

• However, Barbossa acted like he didn’t hear you each time you used it as an attempt to get his undivided attention. It worked, but he didn’t let that show and it’s been long enough now that you picked up on the fact he was ignoring your calls on purpose. That was when you had shut up and for him to realize the mistake he had made ignoring you. Barbossa’s actions of ignoring you was really frustrating, and when you stopped calling out to him with “adorable” he started to miss it.

• Not only the nickname, but the sound of your voice all together. You stopped talking to him completely, because you did. Barbossa knew that he had brought this onto himself by purposely ignoring you, and he was the only one to fix it.

• The only option he thought he had to win you back was by using “adorable” on you and when he did have the chance to do that, you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. Barbossa had you back and he wasn’t going to let you go anywhere.

• He had won the grand prize…

• You

***

Requests: OPEN

@savvythepirate

Tags: @princessofthornsandroses @justafairytailofinnocence

Note: Sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! ❤️

#jack sparrow imagines #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader #jack sparrow #hector barbossa imagines #hector barbossa imagine #hector barbossa x reader #hector barbossa #davy jones imagines #davy jones imagine #davey jones x reader #davy jones #pirates of the caribbean imagine davy jones #pirates of the caribbean imagines #pirates of the caribbean imagine #pirates of the caribbean x reader #pirates of the carribean #i take requests #requests wanted #requests are welcome #requests are open #taking requests #request #requested #requests #ask box #ask box is open #send in an ask

[gregorovitch-adler]

A "Client"

TW: Homophobia and offensive language

--

There was a potential new client sitting on one of the chairs. A tall, lanky man with dark brown hair, in his sixtes. His hair were all slicked back, and he was still wearing his trenchcoat. He was staring at both Sherlock and John, who were sat in their respective armchairs.

"Tell us about your case in detail," said Sherlock, after he opened his eyes. His hands were steepled beneath his chin.

"My wife isn't home for hours altogether," he began in a coarse voice. "She barely pays attention to what I say. Sometimes she doesn't even come back at night from her work." He paused to look cautiously at both of them. Mr Holmes, I think she's having an affair."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stared at John in disbelief. John was a bit amused and waited for Sherlock to start firing his deductions.

When Sherlock didn't say anything further to their client, John decided to step in. "What brings you here? How can we help you with that?"

"Exactly, are you suggesting we muck around in the whole London just to spy on your wife? This is even beneath the detectives working in Scotland Yard," Sherlock said.

The client glared at both of them. He looked pointedly at Sherlock, specially. "I didn't come here on my own. My friend suggested your names, saying that you two would be of some help, instead of uselessly sitting on your arses and judging everyone. Actually, I don't even know what I'm doing here," he said as he began to get up to leave. "It's a wastage of time with you two fags," he continued and was walking towards the door of their flat.

"What did you say?" They both asked indignantly, in unison.

He turned around to look in the general direction of John. "Oh, you heard me alright. There has been enough coverage about your love life in The Times." The man had turned to face both of them again with his nose scrunched and brows knitted. "I don't understand why people like you have to ruin our culture like this. Publicly being in a... homosexual relationship and all," he said and turned on his heel.

John marched towards the bloke and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "You're the one who came here for help," John began. His voice was dangerously low. "You don't get to insult us in our own house. Besides, how is your pure, traditional, heterosexual marriage going for you? No wonder your wife doesn't come back. Who'd want to face a bitter and complete arsehole like you, everyday?"

The man was staring daggers at John. "Let go of me or I swear this won't end well!"

Sherlock got up from his chair. "Try touching him and I'll make sure your wife receives your obituary to your address, or wherever she might be at the given moment. I can easily make it look like an accident. Now that would make an intriguing case, wouldn't it?"

The man looked at Sherlock with his fists clenched, as though wanting to kill him. He roughly freed his grip from John and rushed to the door of their flat. "Fuck you," he said and left their place.

John stared at Sherlock as he slammed the door shut and locked it. Sherlock turned around to face John.

Their eyes locked and they quickly went close to each other so that John could pull Sherlock in for an embrace.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock placed a hand on John's waist and the other on his nape to hold him.

They both stayed silent for a while. Breathing quietly, holding onto each other.

"You don't regret being in this relationship now, do you?" asked Sherlock after sometime, breaking the heavy silence.

John looked up at Sherlock and could see nothing but vulnerability in his eyes.

John shook his head. "Of course not. Wouldn't trade what we have for anything in this world," John replied softly. "I just hate how damn entitled people can be. He was the one who needed help with his stupid problem."

"I know. I hate this too. Not everyone is going to celebrate us, it seems."

"That's true. But I'm not even expecting for that. Just some basic fucking respect." John buried his face in Sherlock's neck.

"I get it." Sherlock's fingers were running through John's hair.

John looked up at Sherlock with some uncertainty. Then he placed his palm on Sherlock's cheek and they both leaned in for a soft kiss. John tilted his head a bit and kissed Sherlock again.

They touched their foreheads together. "I'm so glad to have you with me," John said, gazing deeply into Sherlock's eyes. "That's all I could ask for."

Sherlock nodded. "I love you," he said in a heavily loaded tone. Sherlock traced his thumb along John's lower lip and pulled him in for one more kiss.

John found solace only in Sherlock's arms and nowhere else. The whole world may fall apart, but he knew that he would always have Sherlock with him.

»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««

Prompt Bitter by @calaisreno

Thanks for the tag, @calaisreno !

Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely , @totallysilvergirl , etc.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #ficlet #may prompts #notjustamumj #prompt: bitter #sherlock x john #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #angst #bittersweet ending #tw: homophobia #tw: homophobic slur usage #my fic #angst with a happy ending

[faithfromanewperspective]

how did you arrive at your progressive punk christianity outlook after being immersed in conservative christianity?

ooh!! good question. see I don’t really think what I was immersed in was particularly conservative—in circles I’ve been around we’ve always dissed Americans for being conservative (kinda mean I know) and my dad used to take me to climate change protests in the 2000s and I was always taught the 6 days of creation aren’t literal, the rapture isn’t real, women in stem etc. idk how it was anywhere else but the part of sydney I grew up in was just Like That, there was encouragement to give to the poor to actually end poverty and people actually did even though none of us really had heaps and I guess I wasn’t raised to be okay with entitlement but simply be kind to everyone? And I didn’t even know what conservative was until I was maybe 17 (I thought it was a style of fashion for ages and then I thought it meant conserving nature and history). It was always just Christians are meant to be genuinely kind and not have sex til you’re older and preferably married yknow?? and work hard, like the protestant work ethic was def a thing but somehow in a non ableist way as much as this is possible— I get real impatient with people bitching about stuff getting taken away from them, not realising how much they have when I probably have less and I’m usually giving away as much as I’m able and as much will put me in a state of perceived danger. It’s definitely a form of rebellion against them to see how little I can survive on which I’m working on. I also didn’t even know that so many Christians were transphobic like I thought it was only the extreme theobros. I also had a really lovely geography teacher in high school who was also a Christian and used her faith to drive environmental action, my biology teacher was a Christian and stood up for trans rights and I also had acccss to the internet to read up on clobber passages and hear peoples stories and it was always like ‘oh yeah some Christians believe different things based on how they read this stuff’ and I don’t think it was until I was old enough to actually vote and saw what propoganda was going around I really realised the power dynamic behind it, with the rise of the Australian Christian lobby which felt like it was straight out of the US. I fully thought voting was just liberals if you like fossil fuels, greens to save the environment, and labor if you’re a people pleaser and like fun little rhymes like ‘Kevin 07’ and attempting to be feminist but not really getting anything done. I actually met Martyn Iles once and was like ‘damn this guy is a fake Aussie this isn’t how we do Christianity’. I also got super burnt out by how hard and how biblically I tried to love my classmates on top of the Protestant work ethic about my schoolwork I never really cared about for myself, and was well versed in theology enough to be like HA! Grace means that we don’t have to do all that and can just do our sustainable best, still thinking my view was mainstream. I went to uni to study enviro sci at 17 and I thought my convictions to not drive unless Absolutely Necessary were driven by Christian ethics (which they were, how rigid I was with it was a pda response though). Then over the years realised very belatedly how people often didn’t validate my views and experiences and I’d expect they would (bc they were biblically rooted) and got quite hurt when they didn’t. Spent years in different volunteer ministries trying to put together the kind of community talked about in books like Philippians only to constantly be let down and feel isolated and that only driving me to work harder, despite knowing God’s grace meant I didn’t have to feeling like I couldn’t stop while my earthly needs for connection were unmet, saying yes to things I’d previously said no to because I got a sense of temporary community and belonging every time I joined a new serving team. Tried extra hard to make places inclusive and expected everyone else to be working as hard on it as I was and feel the desperation like I did and got super hurt when they didn’t, oh I guess I’ll have to do it all myself then.

I’ve always struggled with the concept of hell, tbh I heard about it way too young and never had a drop of self preservation instinct in my body only didn’t want to let God down by saying no. I’ve particularly always struggled with the whole urgency motivation like I’m trying, I’m doing the best I can, I listen to people and actually speaking the gospel into their lives in a way that hits home for them (bc I was thinking about how to do this in an empathetic and understanding and autonomy respecting way from a Very Young Age like I used to attempt to evangelise on moshi monsters to get an idea) and shit, I’m like 19 years old at this stage and I’m tired. If only I could just have one last hurrah to change places with someone so they can go to heaven instead of me? Id take it. and I basically worked myself to the point of being that suicidal and kept fucking going because God made me good at science so I can save the planet and end world hunger, and I had this conviction to contextualise (this is what we learned at afes btw) the gospel to really be real to queer folk and indigenous folk and other people of colour and marginalised people (it’s easy to see oppression with my background and my neurotype tbh) and maybe I could make myself suffer now bc God wasn’t gonna let me do that for eternity? anyway eventually left afes bc I was being so stretched and getting so isolated and the work I was doing there wasn’t achieving any of these things and I realised if I stayed I might end up dead and I wasn’t ready to go to heaven yet when my work wasn’t done. or at least so constantly dysregulated I wouldn’t be as able to be kind to others and show them the gospel.

around this time I’m also putting together a pretty comprehensive framework for how to actually solve global problems in a productive way, I’ve unpacked the pride in a lot of Christian mission projects and how they often were a feel good thing but not actually respectful or effective and I’d come up with literally hundreds of ideas for projects I could do to actually help, none of which I obviously had time for I think I was working up to 3 jobs while studying and serving in church and doing my hobbies that kept me kind of sane as well? which was discouraging to say the least, driving a kind of rageful resentment. Around that time I also discover PDA and my whole life makes sense, I start on my adhd meds which I had to jump through a million hoops to get and realise maybe I can finish uni.

a pda framework as I dive more into that and how to be actually neurodivergent affirming and actually recover from burnout long story short makes me realise how ableist much of our concept of sin and holiness really is and how much we need to destigmatise sin and stop using it as a way to intellectualise actual things happening in our brains and nervous systems and maybe we’d feel a lot less hopeless about it like it’s some big mystery if we actually did unpack the fear and threat responses and trauma behind it. Which we always say we will do but practically, church doenst give a space to do that bc you’re gonna be shamed. even for the people who are non affirming I’d be like, but isn’t it a logical step to someone who’s not yet been convicted to celibacy (if that’s something they think they should be) and realised this whole thing is unrealistic, not because the bible is wrong but because people think you can control your own brain by simply trying and trying again every time you fuck up as if that’s not gonna drive learned helplessness or actually traumatise you when you so desperately want to do better? Either that or drive you to be numb about it which I realised is what usually happens, there are certain sins people are blind to in every congregation and they’re actually intellectually unable to be convicted of that as sin because they’re stretched as far as they can go covering all other bases and being like ‘Christ covers that I didn’t Choose To Sin I’m trying not to even though it doesn’t really work’ like I’m a solutions person. if something isn’t working we’re gonna think of a new method and suddenly I understand how my brain works and those of so many others especially those who feel marginalised by the church!

and so long story short when I eventually had to quit what I was doing at church because someone cared enough to realise I hadn’t been doing well for years I was like I’m gonna follow this urge of the Spirit or simply my own head and desire for true connection I often found In exvangelical spaces and hear as many experiences as possible and use it to shape my worldview and get a bunch of hope from people who yes they’ve been marginalised but the gospel is real to them. that’s my only criteria I’m not gonna judge based on theology and I’m not ever gonna think my theological takes make anyone else wrong I’m just gonna be open to listen and shape them so there isn’t any cognitive dissonance and the grace found at the cross is real and practical and doenst have weird arbitrary limits, and I’m also gonna listen to those hurt by Christianity who some might judge as being hard hearted but I know how trauma works. and I’ve been doing that ever since, gradually getting there more and more and I think the best/funniest thing is even in more conservative spaces literally everyone I still talk to has been super encouraging of it and if we have any disagreements they’re pretty minor compared to the fact that we all believe the gospel is for everyone and we all wanna invest in social justice too (which makes me question how conservative those spaces ever were tbh). like there’s def parts of my story I won’t always tell but I feel like I come with a perspective people respect these days no matter where I am, and that’s nice in contrast to being that weird kid trying to do adult things being told either not to worry or that I don’t understand.

#I’ve gotta tw so many things here #tw suicide #tw general conservative bigotry but honestly not too bad #neurodivergence #neurodivergent liberation #punk christianity #progressive christianity #queer christian #also my own identity outside of my work/ministry has definitely been on the back burner but still always there behind it all

[beachy--head]

Here's a little Christmas japril drabble✨ Wishing all of you a happy Christmas and a wonderful holiday season! x

___

Jackson is bouncing up and down.

Jackson doesn't bounce. He paces, and he strides, but Averys don't bounce. Well, Harriet does, but she's 6, and a Kepner-Avery, and from his experience, Kepners definitely bounce up and down.

Coming down the stairs and into the living-room after getting Harriet to bed, April soon discovers the reason for the bouncing. The space around their Christmas tree is completely filled with gifts. Lots of gifts. Waaay too many gifts for a household of three. And she was never the best at maths – biology was her star subject in high-school –, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the ratio of gifts to persons is heavily imbalanced.

"You didn't."

"Didn't what?"

He can act coy all he wants, his smile betrays him.

"This is way too much. She's six! She doesn't need that many things!"

"Okay, first of all, some of these are from my mom. Have you tried telling my mom that she can't spoil her grandchild? If so, how are you still alive?"

"Right, so your mom bought... okay, I stopped counting after twelve boxes. Are you trying to bribe Hattie because she's mad at you for not taking her to Seattle to see Catherine last month?"

"No?"

He observes her as she scans the living-room, brows furrowed, muttering under her breath, knowing she's not really mad but loving that she plays the part.

And it's not like he can fault her for being disconcerted, because just as Jackson Avery doesn't bounce up and down, he also usually doesn't really do Christmas. He'll buy presents, and dress up, and celebrate, but that's usually the extent of his contribution to the holiday season. But this year, he's gone all in and has insisted they do everything. So in the past weeks, they've taken a picture dressed in Christmas pajamas (and he would never admit it, but these things are quite comfortable), they've gone to the Christmas fair down the bloc so Harriet could see Santa, they've been to winter festivals and Christmas markets and even the Fox foundation Christmas party.

Of course, they'd done some of it last year together. But last year, it had been Jackson Avery and April Kepner, separate entities, who had taken Hattie to these activities, and it had left him wanting more than that. Wanting the whole damn thing.

This year, they've been doing these things as the Kepner-Averys, family of three, and he's so grateful he had to do something. He doesn't even care he went overboard.

"She doesn't need that many things! She's going to grow up to be entitled and spoiled and expecting–"

He takes April in his arms, and the way she nestles against his chest tells him everything. That she doesn't believe a word she's saying because she knows what the presents mean. How happy he feels to have his family back. To be able to be woken up by Hattie at dawn so she can open her presents with both of her parents watching. She knows, because she shares the same sentiment.

"I guess I should be glad you didn't buy her a pony like she wanted."

"Well..."

Her glare is so April he can't help laughing.

"No pony, I swear. Didn't fit under the tree anyway."

"You know, you going all out for Christmas like this... You're becoming more and more lik–"

"Don't say I'm like my mom."

They stay embraced for a while, lightly swaying to imaginary music, and he wants to bottle up this moment, this simple, routine, absolutely wonderful moment.

"This is nice, but this is still too much."

"If you think so, then you're really going to hate me when you see how many of these are for you."

"Jackson!!"

Later that night, Harriet joins them in bed, snuggling between them. She explains she's way too excited to sleep, and as he tightens his grasp around his two girls, his grin is so wide his jaw almost hurts.

#drabble #japril #jackson avery #april kepner #merry christmas!

[wiltf]

it was not unusual to have your attention drawn from what remained of a person, the further this investigation went. in fact, you had long since pocketed that little notebook of yours, shifting weight from foot to foot as the orders had come down to wait. truthfully, many of the others had taken the excuse to lean over the balcony only a few steps from you, tapping ash out of pipes. gossiping, arguing.

pointing, at the activity only two landings below.

and of course, you cannot help the draw of it. the pipe that slips easily into your fingers, and even easier between your lips, as names are barely whispered with that shrill edge of excitement. this was supposedly an easier task that required no formal security, or so your fellows said. a fight had broken out, and the flaming fist had been ordered to file in to temper it.

except, with the pile of humanoid remains behind you, it was not longer so simple. you had all stumbled upon some dirty secret, with how lord enver gortash now stood at the front of the factory doors. voice carrying so that you could catch every third or fourth word, but to even drag him out of the keep was telling you more than you were entitled to know.

“y’reckon they’re gonna kick us out soon?”

“word is that they sent a runna’ to someone down in the mermaid. lord gortash’s orders.”

well that was interesting. and also explained how long it had been since you had all received the first halt order. what were the chances that the person who had been told to slip into the blushing mermaid was still alive?

a look out the corner of your eye tells you that was remarkably unlikely.

“how long until they send ‘notha?”

as you exhale, part of you wants to say only a handful of minutes, judging by the pacing from lord gortash. was going to carve his very own trench with the careful steps forward and backwards, which you have no doubt would suit lord gortash just fine. after all, you’d been told this wasn’t even really the main manufacturing site — this was all just a front.

typical fucking wednesday shit, if you were being honest. when wasn’t someone using a warehouse as a front? granted, when you close your eyes and see that gory scene, you suppose most wouldn’t expect the warehouse to double as a butcher’s playpen.

or maybe they would.

you weren’t paid enough to really give a shit, just keep watching out for lord gortash’s face to split in two.

“who the fuck is that?”

did their voice echo, or was that person striding up to lord gortash just perceptive? you aren’t the only one immediately trying to shush, to push the pointing finger down, as two specks of light in the shadows stares up at you all.

whatever they were thinking is lost in how lord gortash opens their arms, greeting their mysterious tiefling friend. leading them, through the door under the landing you stood on, without so much as a passing comment to your captain in charge of the investigation.

“derrick, you dickhead!”

arguments, but the pipes are emptied quickly, stuffed away into pockets before the footsteps on those stairs get louder. lord gortash’s voice arrives before he does with his guest, and you are the only one at attention, hands behind your back. staring straight ahead, but curiosity sits at the edges of your peripherals.

this was lord enver gortash, after all. side by side, with the tiefling who did not seem to blink, and whoever might’ve been the poor sod that was sent running to the blushing mermaid. yet they didn’t look like they had an ounce of blood left in them, damn near close to passing out.

oh, right, the sheer violence. not even five paces from where you stood. on some level, you suppose, that you had reasoned since there seemed to be not much left, you were not really seeing any single person. or their remains.

just the red. red paint? is what your mind supplies, and if you thought of it like that, your stomach managed to stay where it should. after all, the smoke manages to fill your nose, and remove the rusted smell that will haunt you.

if you get a spared look, in truth, you were not sure if you were supposed to hold it. something in the gait, the tail, the set of shoulders. a predator, simply following the trail left behind. for lord gortash seems to fill the air with talk to your captain, his eyes never leaving the way that tiefling treads ever so carefully through the carnage.

“when did you find this?”

a voice that rolls with a hint of an accent you just can’t place, gruff, underused. long fingers and longer nails, that seem to have no issue with separating viscera, as if looking for something specific.

but when your captain looks at you, realisation hits. they were talking to you. “u-uh, we were called here earlier this morning, and were told that when the shift change occurred, this was found. my lor-my lady…?” your voice peters off, as you find yourself trapped by gaze alone.

almost hollow, visibly dark. barest hint of an iris in those eyes, and yet you. you are lost. swimming, to find where there is a flicker in there. part of you can feel that the way viscera is handled is not unlike your mind, gentle, pinched. folded and unfolded. but it is soft, encouraging, that when it ends, you had yet to notice that time had continued to march, leaving you behind to watch the tiefling move a hand through the air.

disappearing into the rafters, as lord gortash is staring at you now. that comforting smile oft greeting you all at the keep now feels cold. disarming in all the wrong ways, yet there is a clap against your back, derrick’s hand meeting you to pull you from the thought. perhaps. you were tired, after all. it had been quite a long day, since first arriving at this scene.

as your captain talks, you can hear a suggestion of going to the tavern. night off, paperwork tomorrow. grisly scene, and all that. and they’re right, when you will your head to look back down at the remains. it was a grisly scene, and the headache you must’ve always had was definitely because of the hard day — you deserve the drink.

did you agree? everyone else chimes in, a careful line of flaming fist moving around the remains, and down the stairs. heavy boots, all in time. even your captain, pulling the poor runner with them. a part of you moves, but it is not your feet.

nor your hands, torso, head. it is your eyes, following how lord gortash calls up to the rafters.

“amma, i sent the rest away.”

and when the tiefling — amma, amma, you had heard that name before — lands, the headache grows. splitting and twisting and pulling at your eyes, wanting to shove them out. heavy tongue and a locked jaw that won’t let you breathe. you were calm. you were afraid.

you couldn’t stop staring into those evil eyes.

“i think we’ve attracted some unfortunate following from waterdeep.”

a grimace is what you would have normally attributed to the twist of lips on the tiefling’s face. on amma’s, amma’s, amma! thinking the name feels like a nail is driving into your ear. bite your tongue, wanting to feel something, but did the muscle even make it between? is that blood from your mouth, or elsewhere? sweat and shit, all that fills your nose.

it was coming from you. oh gods, oh fuck, you want to plead. to fight. sound in your throat as hands work at your armour, pulling it free in parts, lazily dropping it to the floor.

“amma,” lord gortash says, as if such a name did not have your brain feel like it was going to leak through your nostrils, “will you be joining the soiree at lady jannath’s later this week?”

hair and horns and sweat and freckles. deceptive, along the bridge of her nose. so close that you would argue for a scent of iron and brimstone, were it not for the tinge of mulberries. why would you think that? you could not say, both in a literal and theoretical sense, as your shirt was removed.

as the tip of a knife pressed against your shoulder blade. “would i need to be masked?”

lord gortash finally walks towards where you were held, but you knew he would not be your saviour. careful hands that trace the tattoo, committing the symbol to memory. “it may be best, until at least the last hour. granted, i would only need your assistance for a few hours, if you would be so willing.”

your skin. they were cutting into your skin. picking and peeling and slicing you away, letting your bleed and scream in the back of your throat. there is nothing to you, blind feeling and fucking magic holding you upright, as you surely do pass out. come back.

and you are nothing to them, as she speaks. that gravelly voice like it had popped up from the depths of the hells. nails and hammers and piercing your ears, unravelling you almost as much as when the knife finds your sides, your arms. your neck.

you’re dying. “enver, with what would you need assistance?”

“i believe that i promised you such an occasion.” you’re dying, and,

lord gortash, and the butcher. your killer. knife in your throat as you weep and piss and shit and cannot move to let this all happen. blood does not flow but you are sure it does, because where else would it need to be, now, after all this time? lord gortash and the butcher kiss, deeply, biting and sucking and you are dying.

dying, as they are all but fucking in front of you, in front of the remains of the poor fucker you had killed only a day earlier. to draw these fuckers out but oh, gods, you were unprepared. stuck here now; dying here, now.

cursing them to damnation. yourself, for taking the stupid offer from xanathar. for not protecting your mind and knowing the last thing you will see is lord fucking enver gortash, and the bitch whore butcher amma! fucking amma!

pull the knife from your throat, and the darkness of those eyes seizes you. just like the way the knife had found its way into all of you, but now that magic has ended, and your body fails. it bleeds and shits and pisses and weeps, and you want to cuss the both of them out,

but especially that thrice-cursed liar and cheat amity,

as you die.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #the dark urge spoilers #oc: amma #ch: enver gortash #post: fanfic #again pre-game

[joyswonderland1108]

Break my ass

I was supposed to be taking a small break from social media but this thought have been eating me out for some time so i thought i’ll just let it out and resume with my break. Warning, this might be some pretty raw talk so if you’re a 12-16yo judgmental ass minor with a victim complex please get the fuck out of here, not even some supposed adults can handle a mature talk let alone kids. (But if you’re a minor and still mature enough for this talk you’re welcome to stay)

So this post is supposed to be about Jimin but beforehand, my friend shared this in our friends gc earlier :

And i was like.. Are people ignorant or just like to play dumb? Were they expecting Yoongi to go on tour with nothing? Going on tour for what exactly Suchwita? I remember i once told someone “Well logically there will be Yoongi’s album too since he’s going on tour” and their reply was “I don’t think so” 🤡

Anygays, as French people say, revenons à nos moutons. So by now unless people are living under a rock we all know FACE is coming Aka Jimin’s album is coming, with that i have a few things to say. We all know damn well how a part of this fandom is waiting for opportunities to drag him for the smallest thing ever and sometimes those who say they love him don’t even help minimizing the hate either. 

Once the album is out please, don’t read too much into what any of the songs or lyrics mean, try to understand it as it is, don’t even try to make up some bullshit theories, don’t westernize his thoughts and view of things, let us not forget that we aren’t all coming from the same place with the same culture with the same mindset, don’t even try to link his words to anyone (Those who make everything about Jikook i see you.)

I’m pretty sure it took him a lot to take a step forward and decide to open up to Army and i’m also pretty sure that he’s not expecting everyone to understand but at least those who claim they love him and support him should be up to it. Let us listen to him, understand him, support him and accept whatever he has to offer for us, no more “Maybe he’s coming up with a second album” or “Maybe there is more to come” just stfu, we don’t know about that and whatever he is ready to give we shall appreciate him for it. 

One more thing, we all know that this fandom is fond of double standards, need i remind you how Jimin in Paris going out, partying with friends brought him harassment, got him called names, dragged meanwhile Tae doing the same exact thing if not more got people cooing at him and saying that they’re happy he gets to have fun.. I see y’all Tae stans out there trying to bite my ass from speaking the truth but the reality is no matter what Jimin does y’all are ready to judge him for it but instantly turn whatever he does to a normal thing once Tae does it. I hope he’s ashamed of y’all, disappointed in y’all. 

Once again, i’m really insisting on the fact that you should NOT westernize anything about his album, the way each individual sees things is not the same, things that might be normal for him might not be normal for you, things that might be normal for you might not be normal for him and if i see them bitches shame him for anything that all the members do/say as well again.. I’ll sacrifice your souls to the devil bitches! 

I know i keep repeating this but let is serve as a reminder, Yoongi didn’t say “FANS will understand” during Festa for nothing, they KNOW that not all Army are fans, they know that not all of them are understanding, they know that a lot of them are entitled little brats so they don’t expect them all to understand but hopefully those who are mature enough and love them enough will do and support them no matter what. We are supposed to give them a chance to move forward too, we can’t just put the boys in a prison and expect them to be the version each one of us want them to be, we are supposed to ACCEPT them the way they ARE and allow them to no longer hide behind a façade to please ungrateful pieces of shit, because yes to me anyone in this fandom who isn’t ready to accept them is a piece of shit.

With that, i guess i said everything i had to say, not too sure, again y’all already know my brain doesn’t brain correctly all the time, can’t organize my thoughts well, if i forgot to include a point i’ll either update this post or writer another post later. Take care.

#park jimin you are so precious

[amarriageoftrueminds]

something i’ve been thinking of lately is how we always associate peggy & her actress with white feminism, but when you actually think about it it’s not even white feminism. white feminism isn’t even the bare minimum and yet it still fails the quota to be considered white feminism. it’s just me feminism. she doesn’t even support white women as a collective lol.

like there’s an interview of the actress where she talks about the 2nd season of ac & her comments about the female antagonists made me violently cringe. she was like (paraphrasing), “oh yeah they’re ambitious women like peggy but peggy is a good person and they are just power-hungry narcissists”. i watched both seasons and i can tell you if her only takeaway from whitney and dotty is that they’re narcissists, she’s either not very intelligent or too self-absorbed to really think about the characters not played by her. like what’s narcissistic about being brainwashed in a spy program which you were forced into as probably a baby, or about wanting to be respected for the human genius you are?

the female sidekicks are ridiculous too. again, all good-looking able wasp women but they both have 5 minutes of screentime each + always playing the silly awkward best friend trope. & the woman playing peggy never ackowledges them or their actresses, unless of course it is to conveniently say that s3 would’ve included a peggy x angie relationship after the show was canceled, despite the fact that when asked about it months ago she’d said “we can’t do everything”

like she’s not even nice to able-bodied able-minded upper class wasp women; how do we expect her to support the interests of women who are actually marginalized??

Excellent points, 'nonny.

Funny, isn't it, that there isn't really an extant term that sufficiently describes just how egocentric she is?

(What's even whiter than white feminism? Albino feminism? Leucistic feminism?!)

And- christ, what an absolute staggering failure of self-awareness, for Atwell to call other peoples' characters narcissistic! 🤯

It's as if (she? Peggy?) lacks the capacity to see anyone beyond herself as... a real, entire person. She and the writers seem to think that merely not criticising other women is the same thing as actually supporting them.

.

Funny how the villains of AC have somehow achieved both competence and rank, despite this insurmountable misogyny that Peggy keeps telling us is the reason she hasn't amounted to anything at the nepo-job she's flaking out on.

Interesting (but not at all surprising) that the villains are also the only other WASP women / of her SEC in Peggy's show.

Connect the damn dots, writers! Your Lil Miaow Miaow is an entitled villainess!

Because if a working class woman looked as good and was as important as Peggy and was competent as well...

Well, what would there be left for Peggy to be? How would she distinguish herself, at all? She would cease to be Special in any way.

.

My mind always goes back to Pepper Potts.

Hyper-competent, classy, beautifully-dressed red-headed woman?

Who can afford to have a whole other hyper-competent, classy, beautifully-dressed, red-headed woman in the same movie as her, and even flirting with the same man, because Gwyneth Paltrow is not so easily threatened. 💅

Imagine if they couldn't have Thor in the same movie as Steve because being handsome and blonde and muscley and good is his thing. Or were only allowed to have handsome actors if they were playing villains, so as not to undermine Steve's heroic Specialness. Would be pretty pathetic, wouldn't it? 😬

.

In AC -- perhaps intending to retcon CATFA Peggy's indifference to her fellow women and failure to pass the Bechdel Test -- they try to set up token 'Peggy Supports the Women!!' moments.

But her other actions belie that.

Example: stabbing a guy with a fork for pinching Angie.

But it just begs the questions:

Why does this protectiveness only start after Angie has ass-kissed Peggy?

Why does that random fat guy get stabbed for annoying women, but sugar daddy Howard Stark merely gets a telling off?

(J/K! We know why -- she'll need his penthouse!)

And why are we supposed to see Peggy as protective of women, when it's Peggy herself who's the idiot putting their lives in danger in the first place?

(And for no better reason than because she wants someone to pay attention to her, or because she wants to show off and overestimates how clever she is, in a way that disastrously backfires -- not on her but on those lower down the foodchain, of course.)

She gets Eileen fridged murdered because she wore a blonde wig despite knowing she had a blonde civilian room-mate at home.

Pretty stupid, no?

And what's worse, then she goes out and immediately befriends yet another blonde civilian woman!

Why does she persist in putting innocent women in danger?

By her own admission, there's an entire floor full of female agents whom she could've easily struck up a friendship with at any time. Why not one of them?

(Answer: because having other female agents around reminds us Peggy isn't special... unless they're an unthreatening fat girl there for comic-relief, of course!)

Is Peggy that desperate to only be around those she can condescend to? Waitresses and housekeepers? She doesn't want equals, she wants servants? (So the writers can play with their Downton Abbey fetish?)

Then there's the way that, every time Actual Feminist Daniel Sousa tries to say something feminist in the office, Peggy shuts him down and treats the very attempt as if it's a personal insult.

These writers are so ignorant of what feminism is and how it actually works that they think a thing can only be feminist if a Woman does it.

The hypocrisy of Peggy stopping Daniel speaking up for women's rights generally because -- as you said -- she knows her value and only this one particular white woman matters.

.

(And then Atwell, in classic clueless tin-eared style, quotes that line out of context on her IG for her Pride Month. 🤦‍♀️ Is her message meant to be: 'hey folks, if you hear someone speaking up for gay rights, do what Peggy did and tell them not to! Let the oppressors carry on as they are, because... hey, as long as this one white person loves themselves?? no one else's opinion matters...' 😌

#Girlboss #Super-humble-about-it)

.

In s2, they tried to walk back that silly line (which... y'know... Peggy casually destroying any chance of career advancement those women on the other floors could've had? For a pithy soundbite? Great job!)

By having Peggy mansplain to Daniel, Rose's employer, why he should employ... Rose... his employee... 😕❓❓❓

When Rose is only there because Daniel believed in her enough to take her with him and give her a job.

(Unlike Peggy, who just took her servant and her sugar daddy. Oh and her giant wardrobe.)

And Peggy doubts Rose herself. But then -- hypocritically -- pretends to Daniel's face that she didn't. And she has the audacity to scornfully compare him to Jack Thompson, for seeing Rose that way.

(That's you, Peggy! You just described yourself!)

There's also the... very weird vibe about Peggy, when she goes to visit Violet, the new fiancee of Daniel.

Daniel, who... wasn't even dating Peggy, but nevertheless moved to the entire other side of the country to get away from her.

(Hmm... is it just me or is there a definite pattern of ESCAPE in the men Peggy battens onto? 🤔 It's giving You / Crazy Ex Girlfriend).

Anyway, Peggy put on this super weird chummy 'I'm SO super nice and Totally NOT bothered about him moving on so quick!!!' persona with Violet, which she never had with anyone else at any other time. Kind of creepy? Like an aristo trying to pass for a peasant, or something. And her idea of being Hip and Cool and Relatable to the working class was to... share a story of her triumphs at English public school? 😬 Oyvey. Read the room, Camilla.

#long post #antisteggy #antipeggy #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #cynthia glass #p*ggy meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #mcu meta #ac meta #what's whiter than white feminism? ALBINO feminism? LEUCISTIC feminism? #my meta

[naneun-no]

💭 Thoughts and Questions 💭

Content: My thoughts on the backlash to the JITB physical release. This is rather long.

It feels necessary to preface this with I LOVE Jung Hoseok. I’m a fan. His solo release may damn well be my favorite of Ch. 2 so far. None of my thoughts are a criticism of him, moreso criticisms of the backlash to the physical release…

So, I’m trying to keep up with the drama surrounding the JITB physical release but maybe I’m just too out of the loop to understand?

I don’t buy physical copies (of almost anything). It’s just not a part of my fandom experience for any fandom I belong to. Hasn’t been for years, since most of the world and my household went digital. So maybe that’s why I didn’t get the uproar originally when everyone wanted a physical album, but I mostly ignored it. Now I see a lot of people chastising those who wanted a physical album (and apparently caused enough of a ruckus to get one) and I’m not getting things again.

Perhaps it’s because I work for a B2C (business to consumer) corporation and I’ve been in marketing for a decade, but to me this seems like a normal occurrence? That is: 1) customers want/like something/ a feature they’ve come to expect. 2) business doesn’t quite realize or foresee how much their customers like said feature. 3) business releases a version of their product without said feature, to switch things up or for budgetary reasons or whatever. 4) customers go “hey what the hell, where’s that feature we like?!” and business is forced to 5) step back, reevaluate, and decide whether to stick with their original rollout or make a change to meet the demands and re-release the product with the feature that was missing.

Does that make sense? Idk… I guess I’m probably over-simplifying it, since one of the differences between the products released by a musician/idol and those released by a business is that there’s a lot of personal creativity and agency in the idol’s release. So criticism of it can come off like disrespect/distrust/hate for the artist themself. However, I would like to note that a great deal of creativity and passion goes into many, many products, and just because a large business produces them doesn’t mean that a lot of individual artists and creators and businesspeople weren’t behind the scenes, busting their asses only to be disappointed when they see the consumer reactions, which are oftentimes not as open to innovation and change as the artists were hoping. They experience that pain too, they’re just not precious, beloved idols so nobody really takes it upon themselves to defend them, and they pretty much only have their partners and work friends to mope to about it over drinks at happy hour.

And that brings up another interesting point; people seem to be defending Hobi on the basis that any ARMY who demanded a physical album are questioning his creativity/validity as an artist and making him feel bad and in general being shitty, entitled, ungrateful fans. In other words, they’re defending him as a creative person, not as a business person. Cause it could be argued that not releasing a physical album was, in hindsight, just not a great business decision. And he realized that later on, and, like his letter said, had to decide whether he wanted to stay the course or make a “better late than never” change.

[sidenote: I read the translation in its entirety, and I’m not seeing the agonizing heartbreak that others seem to be seeing? I’m seeing the honest explanation of a creative who made a bold move and is realizing — with some disappointment — that his audience wasn’t as appreciative as he hoped they’d be, and he’s making a course correction…? But maybe I’m too steeped in the corporate world to see this as the soul-wrenching sob story it apparently is??]

The reason I think it’s interesting that people are defending him primarily as a creative person and not a business person is that a few weeks back my timeline was FULL of ARMY’s mocking and side-eyeing you know who — Doja Cat.

She made waves (again…) for essentially saying she didn’t “love” her fans cause she doesn’t know them. And my TL was flooded with people smugly saying “it’s just a bad business decision to alienate your fans like that” while simultaneously sharing clips of BTS and their very demonstrative love for ARMY while gloating “can’t relate 😇”. Which begs the question — are BTS’s expressions of love for ARMY personal, or are they just good business?

I’m not saying that to be cynical, I’m saying it because Doja Cat (and I’m not an apologist for her by any means, but it’s a timely reference) was apparently a foolish businesswoman for making statements that made her fans mad. And Hobi is apparently a poor, wounded creative soul for making a decision that made his fans mad…?

Now, making inflammatory statements like “I don’t know those ppl” when referring to your loyal fans and not releasing a physical version of an album are two WILDLY different things and I understand that. I am not trying to conflate the two, more just noticing when and how we, as a fandom, choose to refer to famous musicians as “businesspeople” and when we don’t. When Doja spurns her fans, it’s a dumb business move. When BTS says they love their fans, it’s because they’re super duper sweethearts who love us forever. When Hobi makes a call for his album that a lot of fans disagree with, voicing that disagreement is suddenly hate and harassment for the artist you’re supposed to love, rather than consumer backlash.

I say this not having seen the harassment myself, but I also didn’t look for it. I saw people expressing disappointment, frustration, even that classic paranoia that all ARMY seem to have these days (“he’s being mistreated!”). So if there were genuine threats, hate, and vile behavior that crossed the line (and sadly, in this fandom, there probably was) then I think calling that out and saying “WTF is wrong with you people?!?!” is more than justified.

But when I see people scold, lecture, and attack others for clamoring for a physical album and being overjoyed when their cries were answered, I just think…. You must not work in the consumer goods industry. Cause this shit isn’t that unusual. 🤷‍♀️

Tell me how I’m wrong? I’m totally open to respectfully chatting. Just kinda had to get it out of my head.

#jitb #jitb hope edition #JITB hope edition backlash #rants and thoughts