#don't answer that

[lightseoul]

cw. fem!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~28 yrs old)

word count. 0.9k words

“I’m home,” you call out, haphazardly putting your keys back into your bag with one hand, the other cradling near your chest the mid-sized box you got from Sato’s shop earlier that day.

You’re careful not to mess up the pastry that sits inside it.

“Welcome home,” Bakugou’s gruff voice echoes from the direction of the kitchen, the sound of which immediately soothes the tension you didn’t know you held in your shoulders.

It’s been a long day, you think to yourself.

Excited to meet him after almost 24 hours of not seeing each other, you hurriedly toe off your shoes, noting to yourself to properly return them on the shoe rack later—lest your Katsuki nags your ear off again (affectionately).

“Hey,” you greet once more as you enter the room, cautiously placing the box on the table before striding towards him to wrap your arms around his middle.

He grunts in acknowledgment.

With your chin on his firm shoulder, you examine the impressive array of ingredients and some of your favorite dishes on the kitchen counter, as well as on the island behind you.

You decide to tease him.

“What’s all this for, babe?”

You can somehow feel more than see him side-eyeing you. “The fuck?”

As innocently as you can, you pipe up: “What?”

At your query, he shrugs himself from your hold and places the knife he was just using to expertly chop vegetables on the table before turning to face you, incredulous.

“Whaddya mean, ‘what’?” he huffs, before continuing. “Are you saying you forgot what day it is?”

You debate with yourself for a second whether or not to continue this ruse, ultimately deciding against it when you see the flash of hurt on Bakugou’s face.

Smiling, you reach out to hold his hands in yours.

He doesn’t shrug you off.

A frown still decorates his face, though.

“Of course I didn’t, babe,” you squeeze his hand for emphasis. “How could I?”

“You very much could, you know,” he says as a matter of factly, turning back to continue hacking on the green onions on the off-white chopping board. “You’ve barely been getting enough sleep with how hard you’ve been working. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know what month it is.”

You only grumble in response. He wasn’t wrong.

After a few seconds of staring at his backside, you sigh in defeat, spinning to step toward the kitchen island.

“Well, I got us something.”

“What,” he says more than asks, focus still directed towards slicing carrots now. You smile to yourself; you could practically hear the pout in his tone.

You tap on his shoulder, and at that, he finally turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised in question.

Immediately, his gaze lowers to the box that you’re currently holding, and a whirlwind of emotions dances across his face.

“...‘Happy 4th anniversary to us, champ’?”

Despite yourself, you snort. He shoots you a glare, though it has no bite to it.

You gesture to the cake you’re holding. “I didn’t include ‘I love you’ because I knew that would embarrass you around Sato the next time the class gets together.”

“Yet you decided to use this weird as fuck pet name?” he shakes his head, exasperated. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think his cheeks are turning pink. “Your dumbass making me sound like your kid.”

At that, you cackle, and a smirk manages to crack through the annoyed facade he’s trying to maintain.

You place the box back on the counter and step towards him again, coaxing the knife from his grip. You place it on the board before moving to circle your arms around his neck.

His hands automatically find their place on your hips.

You grin up at him.

“Well, you do call me mommy, sometimes.”

Now, you’re definitely not imagining the redness that’s creeping up on his face.

“Shut up,” he pokes at your side, and you can’t help the squeal that erupts from you.

After a moment of him tickling you and you frantically begging him to stop all the while gasping for air, he finally relents.

He’s still red in the neck when the air between you falls into a quiet lull.

You reach up to comb his hair back with your fingers, tiptoeing to press a kiss on his forehead. When you pull back, you see that his gaze has visibly softened, and he’s now looking at you with what you’ve long identified as adoration.

Longing, too.

Four years of being married, and it still knocks the wind out of your lungs.

“Happy anniversary, Kats,” you whisper, before looking around your shared kitchen that’s filled with testaments of the effort Bakugou puts into your relationship. “Thank you for doing this.”

“‘s no big deal,” he mumbles, dipping his head to rest on the crook of your neck. He says this despite everything else in the room telling you otherwise.

When he lifts his head back up, you shoot him a knowing look and he shoots you another right back.

One you know all too well.

One that says ‘You know what I mean. Don’t make me say it’.

Four years of being married, and the giddiness and pride of knowing Bakugou Katsuki this intimately still hit you like a truck.

“I love you,” you whisper again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively, before dipping in to place a kiss on your forehead. “I love you, too, dumbass.”

#is this bad #idk #don't answer that #LMAO #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n

[simleez]

Heeseung in "Teenage Romance"

#enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypenet #userzaynab #useryeonbins #useremily #userfairy #userisachaes #danablr #hanatonin #cheytermelon #*monet #me making an 8 set do i have no damn shame on this website anymore #don't answer that

[tea-tuesday]

09/11/2023

this literally happens every week but i have a mini assignment due on tuesday mornings for my seminar, which means i stay up all night to do it last minute on monday nights (hence the ugly photos at 2 a.m.😁 i honestly have no idea how i made it this far in my academic career (graduating law school next spring) but.. yeah i got no words of wisdom....🏃‍♀️

#chaotic academia at its finest am i right... #don't answer that #also i'm putting this down as 9/11 altho it's technically 9/12 bc i haven't gone to bed yet #chaotic academia #lawblr #mine #studyblr #tea-tuesday #study inspiration #chaotic academic aesthetic #studyspo #studying #law school #study #study motivation

[lunarw0rks]

a lil creepy idea i had about stalker!soap [no major tw's. except stalking. obviously.]

Lounging in your place, in the main living area.

Whatever it is you're doing, you are clearly too occupied to notice the lurker. He's not behind you; not inside at all. But he's somewhere.

You sneeze into your elbow, shaking off the sudden interruption. As soon as your eyes drift back to your phone, you get a text.

Unknown: Bless you.

#cw stalking #god can you imagine?? #totally didn't think of this BECAUSE i sneezed #is this stupid #don't answer that #stalker!soap #doesnt have to be just stalker!soap it can be any of them honestly #but he's always on my mind tbh #soap mactavish #soap #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #rachel speaks

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Sentences or Sketches or Something... Sunday

Hello strangers! It's been a long time since I last did a progress post of any kind - thank you everyone who's continued to tag me so I don't get left behind! And thanks to @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @blackberrysummerblog, @thewholelemon, @mooncello, @monbons, @prettygoododds, @shrekgogurt, and @youarenevertooold for tagging me, today. (I feel so loved! <3) I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone's up to.

It's still Sunday in my neck of the woods, though just barely. And yes, I've used my "sentences" banner, but... It's a bit more chaotic than that. Honestly, I wasn't sure about doing a post today because I'm a bit all over the place, but then I figured... eh, why not? I am all over the place LOL.

So here's your snippet from the collective efforts of Jo's creativity, lately, under the cut. (Because I ramble...)

On the Haunting of Simon Snow... I haven't forgotten about it! Nor is it abandoned. As I keep telling anyone who will listen, I have a rough draft, which basically amounts to an outline, meaning I have way too much figured out to just let the story fade away. XD I attempted to work on Chapter 2 earlier this month, and ran into some roadblocks - of the architectural variety.

So I've started to research manor houses and English estates like mad. I'm going to do the thing. I'm going to figure out Pitch Manor. Why? Because my brain won't let me gloss over paltry details such as the location of Simon in the grand scheme of the house, or how and where the roof attaches and where that tree is going to be. It's annoying, but I figure... This is a fun puzzle, too. One I hope to be able to share with the fandom at large once it's complete.

This little snippet is from an early design I've since scrapped (but you never know what might come around, again.)

"That's great, Jo, but how about some sentences?"

Okay. Ahem. Here's... some Simon sentences... that have just been scribbled out. *cough*

I sit there and listen to the man on the other side as he blathers on about extra fees associated with estate deliveries due to distance and blah blah bloody fucking blah. I wish he’d just say it. Just say 'this is the Pitch Manor tax.' No one ever does. But everyone charges it.

I HAVE WRITTEN SEE THERE'S PROOF.

Okay, moving on...

The other thing I'm working on is illustrations for @mooncello's beautiful fanfic, "Lost Boys." I just posted art from Chapter 1 here, and I'm working on art for Chapter 2, now. The story is stuffed to the gills with absolutely gorgeous imagery, so choosing what to illustrate is a challenge. Hopefully it all works out, and in the meantime, here are a couple doodles.

(I was telling Heath last night... this morning...? about how all illustrations start out as baby sketches XD These are the little babes in the creative nursery, basically. Also I have never posted baby sketches before and I'm kinda nervous about it. But. Well. >.> )

THERE YOU HAVE IT. A couple of my reasons for being so entirely absent from all other aspects of the fandom. (Also I got hit with the flu super hard, but doing better now!)

Tags for future wipsdays/hello's! @leithillustration, @artsyunderstudy (thank you for listening to me ramble about Pitch Manor), @erzbethluna, @nightimedreamersworld, @cutestkilla (thank you for also listening to me ramble about Pitch Manor sorry I'm reworking it again XD), @angelsfalling16, @fatalfangirl, @hushed-chorus (thank you for being my secret-garden-enabler XD), @rimeswithpurple, @best--dress, @whatevertheweather, @ileadacharmedlife, @scribble-tier, @imagineacoolusername, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @alleycat0306, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @tender-ministrations, @katmiscellanious, @anxious-m3ss, @bubble-gumhead, @ebbpettier, @facewithoutheart, @bazzybelle, @theimpossibledemon, @aristocratic-otter, @ic3-que3n, @palimpsessed, @raenestee

#six sentence sunday #sketch sunday #snowbaz #snowbaz fanfic #snowbaz fanart #back from the dead #no really it kind of feels like that #I like being busy can you tell? #but also this fandom is just so cool there are always about a million things I want to be working on at any given time #And I have COBB waiting in the wings too >.> #Am I insane? #Don't answer that #the point is #I actually don't know what my point is #I'll just have to... #CARRY ON #(any way the wind blows) #Me writing “blah blah bloody fucking blah” is probably a bit too on the nose for how I feel about my writing right now #CARRY ON SIMON #okay i'm done

[ashtonsunshine]

The 5SOS Show Boston night 1

via Michael's instagram story. 13th August 2023

#What even happens at this show? what the hell 😆 #don't answer that #i don't want to know what's going on until my concert comes along #5sos #luke hemmings #michael clifford #the 5sos show tour boston

[touchd0wn-boy]

genuinely what the hell was wrong with him

#DON'T answer that

[awesome-shoes-with-wings]

yall I have not watched episode 7 of the season yet because I'm in study mode, but I need to know... are the rumours true? Have Poseidon and Sally returned?

#percy jackson #pjo #i have not studied much today #pjo spoilers #percy jackson spoilers #posally #is it tragic #don't answer that #i wanna see it unfold #pjo tv show #pjotv #pjo series #poseidon #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv #feel free to ignore this #i will probably forget i posted this #because i'm about to start drawing #for my comic #yipeee

[southernambrosebassford]

Can I just say that as an Adamandi fan I think of Preston and Adrian so often it's crazy like I probably think of them more than I think of some of the main characters . Look at them (they would hatecrime me in an instant)

#adamandi #is this real #don't answer that #melliot #marmorei brainrot #because i'm not very normal #ambrose bassford

[blackkatmagic]

I was recently reminded that Garen Muln looked enough like Obi-Wan to pass for him to Xanatos, who had met him several times at that point. (And crechemaster Ali-Alann could pass just as easily for Qui-Gon, which is also very fun.) And like. Garen is underused in fandom in general, but that part is especially underused, I think. Where are all the mistaken identity fics? Where are the comedy of errors misunderstandings?? Do I have to do everything myself around here???

#star wars #garen muln #ali alann #don't answer that #i already know the answer is yes #kat rambles

[c1nto]

they want me to believe that first doesn't have a passcode on his phone..???

#playboyy the series #when he has so many incriminating videos on there??? is he stupid ?? #don't answer that

[homemadefantasy]

Taryn's Inquest - Cardan's POV

Summary: Taryn's inquest and the moments that follow - from Cardan's perspective.

Across the room, Jude appears, dressed as Taryn. She is in all of the Court’s finery, looking as much to me like her sister as she always has, which is to say she looks nothing like her sister. Sure, they may have the same physical appearance, but the difference in the manner in which they carry themselves is unmistakable. Where Taryn is demure and desperate to please, Jude is unapologetic and strong. I am amazed she is able to fool anyone with how straight she stands and how high she holds her head; Taryn would be sniveling with her shoulders slumped. 

I am at a loss as to why she would return this way, play-acting a part that could not suit her less. Nevertheless, I must assume she has come to me in this way for a reason. If she wants to identify as her worthless twin, I shall let her.

Despite my role as king and the image I must maintain, despite my resolve to protect Taryn, despite everything, it takes all the self-discipline, a skill of whose existence until very recently I was unaware, I can muster to refrain from running across the room and taking her into my arms. 

Soon, she is standing before me, deep within a curtsy that appears to cause her physical pain. It looks entirely unnatural for her to be bowing to me, to anyone, not even considering that she is the queen of the land. Oh, Jude. I just barely catch myself before saying the wrong name. 

“Taryn?” She looks up at me with reluctance. Her pupils dilate and her eyes glitter with barely contained anger. 

“Your majesty,” she says stiffly. 

I suppose she expects me to play my part as well. I suppose I shall. I hesitate for a moment, imagining with no small amount of difficulty that the sister before is the pathetic, sniveling travesty of Jude. 

“We recognize your grief. We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” 

Questions, I suppose, I now know the answer to, since she sent her sister in her stead. Although, many other questions take their place. My jumbled thoughts turn to my many unrequited letters, and I wonder at her return. She must never have planned to; I suppose Taryn’s impending execution alone lured her back. But, for the time being, I will exploit any opportunity to convince her to rule beside me. In Elfhame. 

I am pulled back to the present as Nicasia, with no small amount of malice, accuses Jude of Locke’s demise. Unbeknownst to her, it seems, she is standing before us. Am I really the only one who can see that this is very much not Taryn? I realize, with a knot of shame, that I alone pay the exceptional amount of attention to her required to uncover her slight so quickly.  

Her voice changes then, the silence of the room glinting off her voice as moonlight off the edge of a particularly sharp knife. “Jude is in exile.” Is she really? “And I’ve never hurt Locke.” If there were any doubt of her not being Taryn, it has just been expunged from my mind, as Taryn would never have shown such repulsion, however subtle, at the necessity of saying the name. 

Nicasia is too wrapped up in her own grief over Locke to notice. 

I am not so encumbered. 

“No?” 

“I lov… I loved him.” She says with no small amount of difficulty. I think back to Locke’s ridiculous party, of her obvious infatuation. Of the ridiculous and unexpected anger that seemed to overwhelm me at the sight of her in his arms. Of my own fury mirrored in her eyes when she glanced at me. Of the countless weeks that followed during which I tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to think or care about Locke’s toying with the Duarte sisters. Of Jude’s defiance at that critical moment when Locke believed he would have both sisters under his control. Of the chaos that directly followed. 

“Sometimes I believed that you did, yes. But you could well be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” Or at least it would, had she not foolishly bargained with the most abominable of my siblings. However, despite the idiocy of the choice, I cannot deny that it has ended up being quite a valuable little talent. 

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

“Taryn Duarte.” Jude dips into an unnatural-looking, at least for her, curtsy. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.”

As if. There wasn’t a single word that just came out of her mouth that was not a lie. That’s my girl. The thought comes to me unbidden and with sharp barbs that pierce through my heart. Because she’s not. She’s not my girl, is she? Regardless of what I thought before her exile, she chose to stay. She chose to stay as far away as possible from me. Nerves suddenly overtake me as I begin to consider just why she is here in the first place. 

“What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed,” she says pointedly.

“Did you murder Locke?” The room goes silent as it awaits her confession. 

“No. Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.” I do not miss the implication, or the glance she shoots my former lover. 

Neither does Nicasia. She turns to me, likely believing she is imparting great wisdom and knowledge upon me. Little does she know that I only require answers from one person right now. “We know that Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” How did she know about Valerian? Perhaps I ought to keep a better eye on Nicasia. 

“If Taryn isn’t the culprit, then Jude must be.” Perhaps I will ask her myself. “Queen Orlagh, my mother, – ” Yes, I know who Queen Orlagh is, thank you – “swore a truce with you. What possible gain could she have from the murder of your Master of Revels? She knew he was your friend – and mine.” 

Debatable. In front of me, Jude appears to be having some sort of episode. After a moment of consideration, I decide to humor Nicasia. 

“Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes, I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.” 

“She had no reason to hate Locke. I don’t think she wished him ill.” I could think of a few reasons. I hate Locke for what he did to Jude; I can hardly imagine what she feels for him.

“Is that so?”

Right then, my mother decides to be… helpful. “Perhaps it is only Court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister, and Locke. She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.” 

Jude regards my mother with veiled surprise before she counters her with – “Jude never loved Locke. She loved someone else.” I am on the edge of my throne. “He’s the one she’d want dead.” 

My brain locks up, unsure if it should key on her confession of love in front of the whole court or on her declaration that she desires my death. Either way, I know it is meant as a direct attack – both halves. She can lie, after all. Before she can rattle me further, I cut her off, needing the rest of the conversation to be private. “Enough. I have heard all I care to on this subject – ”

“No!” Upon registering whose voice interrupts my command, I nearly snap. A murmur ripples through the crowd at the sheer audacity required to interrupt the High King mid-decree. Nicasia shamelessly continues. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.” 

She’s already resistant to glamour. I want to scream. But if Jude is going to torture me in front of the whole Court, why can’t I? “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

Her shoulders subtly shift back as she stands a little straighter, stiffer. Hiding terror that I can’t quite understand, she counters me. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the Court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.” 

Very well, then. What a perfect excuse to get the answers I require. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

***

She stands rather awkwardly across the table from me, her face fixed with an odd expression I can’t quite place. 

She’s back. She’s home. She’s here. I can’t repress a grin. I gesture for her to join me on the couch. Start with the question that’s been eating away at me since I saw her walk in, the one which may seem the most trivial to anyone else, but is the most important to me. I attempt nonchalance as I say it. 

“Well, didn’t you get my letters?”

Six unanswered letters. Six fragments of my heart that were never so much as acknowledged. Six attempts to understand what was going on in her head. 

“What?” Bewilderment flashes through her clever eyes. 

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.” She may well have. This may have been intended as a short visit. I will change that intention.

She appears to be genuinely confused. Is it possible she never received them? Does that explain her absence?

“Your Majesty,” she begins. Your Majesty? Does she really hate me so much as to resort to such formality? “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

Oh. We’re still playing that game, are we? 

I give her a look. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.”

Something in her snaps. Her facade, I realize. “What are you doing? What are you playing at?”

Did she really think I didn’t recognize her? I think back to our interaction in the throne room. Had she thought me beguiled by a simple wardrobe change? 

You mistook one for the other once before. 

The memory hits me like a punch to the stomach. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the borough.”

For some inexplicable reason, this seems to unsettle her more. Was she here on some agenda besides her own? The Council’s warnings of her potential allegiance to Madoc suddenly flood my thoughts. 

“That’s not possible.” She shakes her head; that same unplaceable expression returns. She seems to be trying very hard to figure something out. Her scheming face strikes me as bizarre. What is her angle? 

All at once, I become singularly aware of every inch that separates us. It’s worse, somehow, than when we were an entire ocean’s breadth apart, to be so close yet not touching. She’s not close enough for me to see the green in her hazel eyes. She’s not close enough that I can feel her breath as further assurance that she is, in fact, here before me. She’s not close enough that I could reach out to hold her hand, should she want that. No question of whether I want that. I want that more than I need air to breathe, in this current moment. She’s not close enough. I hate it. I stand up, needing to have her in my arms. “Come closer.” 

She backs away from me, an emotion I don’t want to recognize screaming from her eyes. The pain in my chest swells. I clench my fists to hide their shaking, but I need to confirm one thing. 

“My councilors told me that you met with an ambassador from the Court of Teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, perhaps I must. Tell me it’s not true.” What will I do if it is? I cannot arrest her. She is my Queen. Every advantage is hers: her authority over the kingdom, her authority over my will, her authority over my heart. Should she be in an alliance with her adoptive father, the kingdom, along with its pathetic king, would be ruined. 

Initially, this accusation just seems to confuse her again. Then, she seems to understand, though she does not voice whatever realization she just had. “I’m not the betrayer here.”

Oh. I hadn’t anticipated that her continued absence would still concern my paltry attempt at humor. Alas, for this at least, I can make amends. 

“Are you still angry about—” Suddenly, as I study her body language, I come to a realization of my own. Her entire body is taut and shaking, and she seems to be wearing her anger as armor. I recognize this tactic; I’ve used it myself countless times. The tactic of using anger to disguise one particularly uncomfortable emotion. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?”

She fears me. How could she possibly still think I harbor any desire to hurt her? Can she possibly still believe I hate her? I thought this lie had been dispelled long ago. 

“I’m not,” the quaver in her voice and the shaking in her body give her away. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

Every word she says is like a tiny sword aimed directly at my chest. Is it possible she never realized? I had thought I had made it quite clear how desperately I had awaited her return. “Of course it was a trick -” She clutches a knife to her. Madoc must have sent her to kill me. Her hatred is genuine, and my heart lies in shattered remains all over the floor. 

Before I can so much as utter another word, the whole world shakes. Or is it just my world?  No, Jude seems just as alarmed as I am. Ah, of course. She must have been meant to kill me, and the explosion meant to hide her escape. I am unable to do much else but stare at her, concealing my anguish as I always have: behind a glare. 

Her ears prick up as something akin to sword fighting echoes down the hall. With a muttered “Stay here,” she darts out of the room before I can react. 

No. Not again. Absolutely not. I am not losing her again. Even if her plan was to kill me, let it be so long as I never have to endure another second of her absence. 

She is already gone. When I make it into the hall, I am just able to make out Madoc’s figure as he carries Jude off down another corridor. A battle rages around me, and though I know I should be concerned about how close they made it to my chambers, all I can see is Jude’s absence. 

It seems that Jude was the prize. Although the contingent of soldiers that Madoc brought here far outnumbers my guards, they recede as soon as they see that she is secured. The renegades begin racing down and out of the hill. Well, all shall soon understand the price that is to be paid for such an act. 

Thorns and briars, vines and branches, commissioned by myself and empowered by all the cruel magic of Faerie, wind their way through the many corridors of the Palace of Elfhame after Madoc’s men like vipers after a meal. I fall to my knees and my vision blurs, every ounce of strength and every drop of energy pouring into the attack.

The Bomb finds me some time later, slumped against the doorframe to my chambers and surrounded by blood. 

“She’s gone, Your Majesty.”

The world goes black.

#oops this is really long #this is my first fic #can you tell? #don't answer that #part 2? #jurdan #holly black #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #qon #twk #tcp #angst #fluff #queen of nothing spoilers #qon spoilers #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #high queen of elfhame #high king of elfhame #high king cardan #king cardan #queen jude #high queen jude #prince cardan #The Folk of the Air

[nereidprinc3ss]

i owe mgg so many apologies. like a handwritten note and an edible arrangement and everything. maybe a nice candle or gift card. idk ...just.... something......

#i am so sorry matthew gray gubler #would you go out with a 19 yr old? #don't answer that

[firstkanaphans]

Idk if you watched the latest Dangerous Romance ep but Kanghan's praise kink is sooo fucking obvious!! Do you think you'll ever write something spicy for them? I'd totally roll around on the floor if you did! :face_with_peeking_eye:

I did watch it and you are absolutely right! Kang has one of the worst cases of a praise kink I have ever seen. God bless him. To be quite honest, I didn’t have any plans to write for them, but after you sent this ask, it was like the floodgates opened in my head and my brain suddenly revealed to me a whole ass fic it had apparently written in its entirety because I knocked this out in like an hour. It’s barely spicy and it doesn’t address the praise kink at all, but I’m obsessed with that scene from the trailer where Kang offers to buy Sailom, so this is my take on that. If y’all like it, I'll definitely consider writing more in the future!

Read on AO3

Kang wasn’t sure why, but he followed him. Maybe it was because he had never seen Sailom wearing such nice clothes before or maybe something just felt off, but the next thing he knew, he was lurking in the shadows of a bar in some ritzy hotel watching a man older than his father ply Sailom with drinks.

Sailom wasn’t drinking them, but the man was, and the drunker he got, the more his hands started to roam. Sailom was putting in a good effort to resist him, wriggling out of his grip whenever he thought he could get away with it, but even from across the room, Kang could tell that his muscles were tense. That the touches were unwanted. So when the man’s hand began to drift up from Sailom’s knee to his thigh, Kang’s composure finally snapped.

He marched over to the couch where they were sitting, grabbed Sailom by the hand, and forcibly pulled him from the bar, ignoring the protests of the old man they had left behind. Kang didn’t care. Let him be angry. Sailom wasn’t his to own.

“Kang?” Sailon hissed. “What’re you doing here?”

Kang ignored him as he worked to come up with a plan. He could take Sailom outside to his bike, but he doubted he would get on it willingly. He was stubborn like that. So instead he headed towards the front desk of the hotel where he offered a credit card in exchange for a room key.

“Are you out of your mind?” Sailom cursed, attempting to yank his arm out of Kang’s grasp unsuccessfully. Kang was holding onto him too tight. He wasn’t going to let Sailon run away. He wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time. It was for his own good.

“Elevator’s this way,” Kang said, key card in hand, and then he began dragging Sailom in that direction—literally dragging because Sailom had dug his heels into the ground and refused to move. Only once they were inside the elevator with the door shut did Sailom stop resisting. But even then, he didn’t look happy about it.

“What is wrong with you?” Sailom snapped and this time when he tried to pull his arm out of Kang’s grasp, Kang let him.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Why are you hanging out with a bunch of old men at a bar? Why are you letting them touch you?”

“It’s a job, Kang,” Sailom said with a sigh and although his facial expression didn’t change, the words felt heavy. Weighted. As if they were suffocating him. “One I’ll be lucky to keep after the show you just put on.”

Kang opened his mouth to argue—what job could possibly be worth that?—but before he could get the words out, the elevator door opened onto their floor. He grabbed Sailom again, albeit gentler this time, and dragged him towards the room he had booked. Once they were inside, he pushed Sailom down onto the bed and locked the door behind them.

“What was he paying you for?” Kang asked, although he already had a pretty good idea.

“My company,” Sailom answered lazily. “That’s all. I sit there and laugh at his stupid jokes and he pays me enough to not have to worry about someone breaking into my house and murdering me in the middle of the night. Or at least that was the plan.”

Kang could tell that Sailom was mad, but that was fine. Kang was mad, too.

“He was touching you,” he snapped.

Sailom rolled his eyes. “It was harmless.”

“It was not!” Kang pulled his own wallet out of his back pocket. “What was he paying you? I’ll double it.”

“Kang.”

“If he can pay for your company, then so can I,” Kang said, leafing through his cash. “How much?”

Sailom yanked the wallet from his hand and tossed it to the floor. “I’m not letting you pay for something you can have for free.”

Kang froze, surprised by the words. It wasn’t so long ago that the two of them couldn’t even be in the same room without committing unspeakable crimes against each other, and yet now, Kang craved Sailom’s company the way he craved air. Sailom kept him alive.

But company wasn’t the only thing people paid for.

Kang thought back to the tourist who had offered Sailom cash for sex and before he could think better of it, he had pushed Sailom down on the bed and crawled on top of him, their faces so close that their lips almost touched. To his surprise, Sailom didn’t push him away.

“Would you let me pay for this?” Kang asked, his heart racing. He felt dirty even offering, but there was a hint of something else there, too. Excitement. Desire. A truth he never would have been able to acknowledge without the promise of payment between them: that he wanted this. That he wanted him.

Sailom’s eyes were wide and Kang felt sure that he would say no, but instead, he said nothing as his gaze slipped from Kang’s eyes to his lips. And he didn’t look uninterested. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I know you don’t actually want—”

Kang kissed him. Immediately, he regretted it, but when he tried to pull away and apologize, he found that he couldn’t. Sailom had tangled his fingers in Kang’s hair, holding him in place. And then he kissed him back.

The kiss burned like whiskey—just as fiery, just as intoxicating. It was fierce and it was hungry and Kang did all he could to stoke the flames because he knew he might only get this one chance.

He snaked his arm underneath Sailom and moved them both higher up onto the bed so that they were no longer hanging half-off of it. So that he could get some leverage. So that he could kiss Sailom the way he deserved. The problem was that Kang didn’t have much practice kissing—in fact, he had only kissed one person in his whole life and he was on this bed with him—but instinct carried him farther than he thought it would. He kissed Sailom’s lips, he stroked his face, he unbuttoned his shirt. That’s when Sailom stopped him.

“Wait,” he said, pushing Kang away. He didn’t make him move, though. He didn’t ask for space. They stayed right where they were, only a breath apart, and Kang could tell that he wasn’t the only one affected by what had just happened. Sailom’s cheeks were red, he was breathing as if he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes—god, his eyes. They were so dark. Twin pools of desire. “You know I’m not going to let you pay me for this either, right?”

Kang’s stomach dropped. “Sailom, please. Don’t go back to them. I can—”

“But I still want to do it,” Sailom interrupted. “If you do.”

Kang wasn’t sure what he had expected Sailom to say, but that wasn’t it. Why would Sailom want anything to do with him if he wasn’t getting paid for it? Why would Sailom want this? And yet, there he was, staring up at Kang with eyes that brokered no argument. All Kang would have to do was lean forward the half inch that separated them and Sailom would be his. But closing that distance became a lot harder without the excuse of payment lingering in the air. If he kissed Sailom now, they would both know that it was only because he wanted to.

In the end, there was only one choice Kang could make because the thought of not kissing him haunted him far worse than the fear of being known. So he leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

Sailom didn’t hesitate. He kissed him back.

Sailom’s kisses were more purposeful this time—there was a depth to them that hadn’t been there before—and Kang tried his best to give back just as good as he was getting. Everything he was feeling was new. The press of another body beneath him, the gentle exploration of another person’s hands. He had never felt like someone else had control of him. But Sailom did.

Soon, Sailom was reaching for Kang’s clothes and Kang was reaching for his and both of them were breathing fast as if they had been arguing instead of kissing. And there, on silk sheets, they lay themselves bare, channeling all of the anger and the annoyance that had been building between them for years into something more productive. Something that might change them forever.

Kang waited until there was nothing left between them—no shame, no secrets, no clothes—before stopping Sailom. “Are you sure?” he asked even though he didn’t know the answer himself.

Sailom nodded. “I’ve been sure. You’re the one who hates my guts.”

“I don’t,” Kang admitted, his voice soft. “I never did.”

And then he kissed him. And he didn’t stop.

_______________

After, as they lay next to each other in bed, trying to figure out what it all meant, Kang caught sight of his wallet on the floor.

“Let me pay you,” he said. It was the first words either of them had spoken since the room had been filled with their moans, and his own voice startled him. “Not for that. Just…Sailom, please. I don’t need the money. You do. It’s my fault I didn’t pass the midterms and my grandmother stopped paying you. It’s my fault you lost all of your other students. If something were to happen to you, I would blame myself.”

Sailom was quiet for a very long time. “This is working,” he said. “And it’s only temporary.”

“It might be working now, but what happens when one of those rich, old white men paying for you doesn't take no for an answer? They’re predators. It’s dangerous.”

Sailom turned to him, the fire in his eyes burning just as bright as it had when Kang was inside of him. It was enough to shut him up. “What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” he asked. And for the first time, Kang heard real fear in his voice. As if, finally, Sailom was letting him in.

Kang didn’t have an answer for him, but what he did know was that they had crossed a line tonight—they had done something they couldn’t take back—and now, for better or worse, he would protect Sailom with his life. Because he was priceless.

#two fics in two days? #am i okay? #don't answer that #i wasn't going to put this on ao3 but then i saw that there were only 32 dangerous romance fics total and it made me sad #so here's 33 #dangerous romance #dangerous romance fic #kanghansailom #kanghansailom fic #sarah writes things

[stardustedknuckles]

Jesus christ I logged in and caught the first five words of two posts aabria reblogged and both of them were potentially HUGE spoilers, what the fuck have I missed.

#Don't answer that #I'll start watching on the way home tonight #I need to block the spoiler tag that's on me but damn okay

[horatiocomehome]

crabs are inevitable?

#ohhhhhh wait this is a carcinization joke #but if everything changes into crab isn't that good because change? #who knows #don't answer that #starry time