#I’ve been processing this show the last two days

[itsthesupercw]

I know we all wanted to see Agatha with a happy ending but we can’t forget that she is technically a villain just with a super complex backstory but one that does include her being a serial killer. She kept murdering and is rather brazen about it. I’m sure a redemption arc would have felt satisfying, but she’s not quite remorseful for her actions quite yet and she’s still playing the victim complex even to her ex.

She’s complicated and deep and we love her for it, but she won’t get that stereotypical superhero ending because that’s not who she is. At the end, and even before her Wanda prison, she was covenless and alone.

I like to think that her “calculated risk” of giving herself up to Death was a final acknowledgment that perhaps her life is done because there’s not many directions she can go in. She was able to see that even being with Rio was not possible because of the grief and grudge she still held, so there wasn’t anything holding her to stay.

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[fiercynn]

on ao3's current fundraiser

apparently it’s time for ao3’s biannual donation drive, which means it’s time for me to remind you all, that regardless of how much you love ao3, you shouldn’t donate to them because they HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY AND NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.

we’ve known for years that ao3 – or, more specifically, the organization for transformative works (@transformativeworks on tumblr), or otw, who runs ao3 and other fandom projects – has a lot of money in their “reserves” that they had no plans for. but in 2023, @manogirl and i did some research on this, and now, after looking at their more recent financial statements, i’ve determined that at the beginning of 2024, they had almost $2.8 MILLION US DOLLARS IN SURPLUS.

our full post last year goes over the principles of how we determined this, even though the numbers are for 2023, but the key points still stand (with the updated numbers):

when we say “surplus”, we are not including money that they estimate they need to spend in 2024 for their regular expenses. just the extra that they have no plan for

yes, nonprofits do need to keep some money in reserves for emergencies; typically, nonprofits registered in the u.s. tend to keep enough to cover between six months and two years of their regular operating expenses (meaning, the rough amount they need each month to keep their services going). $2.8 million USD is enough to keep otw running for almost FIVE YEARS WITHOUT NEW DONATIONS

they always overshoot their fundraisers: as i’m posting this, they’ve already raised $104,751.62 USD from their current donation drive, which is over double what they’ve asked for! on day two of the fundraiser!!

no, we are not trying to claim they are embezzling this money or that it is a scam. we believe they are just super incompetent with their money. case in point: that surplus that they have? only earned them $146 USD in interest in 2022, because only about $10,000 USD of their money invested in an interest-bearing account. that’s the interest they earn off of MILLIONS. at the very least they should be using this extra money to generate new revenue – which would also help with their long-term financial security – but they can’t even do that

no, they do not need this money to use if they are sued. you can read more about this in the full post, but essentially, they get most of their legal services donated, and they have not, themselves, said this money is for that purpose

i'm not going to go through my process for determining the updated 2024 numbers because i want to get this post out quickly, and otw actually had not updated the sources i needed to get these numbers until the last couple days (seriously, i've been checking), but you can easily recreate the process that @manogirl and i outlined last year with these documents:

otw’s 2022 audited financial statement, to determine how much money they had at the end of 2022

otw’s 2024 budget spreadsheet, to determine their net income in 2023 and how much they transferred to and from reserves at the beginning of 2024

otw’s 2022 form 990 (also available on propublica), which is a tax document, and shows how much interest they earned in 2022 (search “interest” and you’ll find it in several places)  

also, otw has not been accountable to answering questions about their surplus. typically, they hold a public meeting with their finance committee every year in september or october so people can ask questions directly to their treasurer and other committee members; as you can imagine, after doing this deep dive last summer, i was looking forward to getting some answers at that meeting!

but they cancelled that meeting in 2023, and instead asked people to write to the finance committee through their contact us form online. fun fact: i wrote a one-line message to the finance committee on may 11, 2023 through that form, when @manogirl and i were doing this research, asking them for clarification on how much they have in their reserves. i have still not received a response.

so yeah. please spend your money on people who actually need it, like on mutual aid requests! anyone who wants to share their mutual aid requests, please do so in the replies and i’ll share them out – i didn’t want to link directly to individual requests without permission in case this leads to anyone getting harassed, but i would love to share your requests. to start with, here's operation olive branch and their ongoing spreadsheet sharing palestinian folks who need money to escape genocide.

oh, and if you want to write to otw and tell them why you are not donating, i'm not sure it’ll get any results, but it can’t hurt lol. here's their contact us form – just don’t expect a response! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[reasonsforhope]

Story from the Washington Post here, non-paywall version here.

Washington Post stop blocking linksharing and shit challenge.

"The young woman was catatonic, stuck at the nurses’ station — unmoving, unblinking and unknowing of where or who she was.

Her name was April Burrell.

Before she became a patient, April had been an outgoing, straight-A student majoring in accounting at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore. But after a traumatic event when she was 21, April suddenly developed psychosis and became lost in a constant state of visual and auditory hallucinations. The former high school valedictorian could no longer communicate, bathe or take care of herself.

April was diagnosed with a severe form of schizophrenia, an often devastating mental illness that affects approximately 1 percent of the global population and can drastically impair how patients behave and perceive reality.

“She was the first person I ever saw as a patient,” said Sander Markx, director of precision psychiatry at Columbia University, who was still a medical student in 2000 when he first encountered April. “She is, to this day, the sickest patient I’ve ever seen.” ...

It would be nearly two decades before their paths crossed again. But in 2018, another chance encounter led to several medical discoveries...

Markx and his colleagues discovered that although April’s illness was clinically indistinguishable from schizophrenia, she also had lupus, an underlying and treatable autoimmune condition that was attacking her brain.

After months of targeted treatments [for lupus] — and more than two decades trapped in her mind — April woke up.

The awakening of April — and the successful treatment of other people with similar conditions — now stand to transform care for some of psychiatry’s sickest patients, many of whom are languishing in mental institutions.

Researchers working with the New York state mental health-care system have identified about 200 patients with autoimmune diseases, some institutionalized for years, who may be helped by the discovery.

And scientists around the world, including Germany and Britain, are conducting similar research, finding that underlying autoimmune and inflammatory processes may be more common in patients with a variety of psychiatric syndromes than previously believed.

Although the current research probably will help only a small subset of patients, the impact of the work is already beginning to reshape the practice of psychiatry and the way many cases of mental illness are diagnosed and treated.

“These are the forgotten souls,” said Markx. “We’re not just improving the lives of these people, but we’re bringing them back from a place that I didn’t think they could come back from.” ...

Waking up after two decades

The medical team set to work counteracting April’s rampaging immune system and started April on an intensive immunotherapy treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus...

The regimen is grueling, requiring a month-long break between each of the six rounds to allow the immune system to recover. But April started showing signs of improvement almost immediately...

A joyful reunion

“I’ve always wanted my sister to get back to who she was,” Guy Burrell said.

In 2020, April was deemed mentally competent to discharge herself from the psychiatric hospital where she had lived for nearly two decades, and she moved to a rehabilitation center...

Because of visiting restrictions related to covid, the family’s face-to-face reunion with April was delayed until last year. April’s brother, sister-in-law and their kids were finally able to visit her at a rehabilitation center, and the occasion was tearful and joyous.

“When she came in there, you would’ve thought she was a brand-new person,” Guy Burrell said. “She knew all of us, remembered different stuff from back when she was a child.” ...

The family felt as if they’d witnessed a miracle.

“She was hugging me, she was holding my hand,” Guy Burrell said. “You might as well have thrown a parade because we were so happy, because we hadn’t seen her like that in, like, forever.”

“It was like she came home,” Markx said. “We never thought that was possible.”

...After April’s unexpected recovery, the medical team put out an alert to the hospital system to identify any patients with antibody markers for autoimmune disease. A few months later, Anca Askanase, a rheumatologist and director of the Columbia Lupus Center,who had been on April’s treatment team, approached Markx. “I think we found our girl,” she said.

Bringing back Devine

When Devine Cruz was 9, she began to hear voices. At first, the voices fought with one another. But as she grew older, the voices would talk about her, [and over the years, things got worse].

For more than a decade, the young woman moved in and out of hospitals for treatment. Her symptoms included visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as delusions that prevented her from living a normal life.

Devine was eventually diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which can result in symptoms of both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She also was diagnosed with intellectual disability.

She was on a laundry list of drugs — two antipsychotic medications, lithium, clonazepam, Ativan and benztropine — that came with a litany of side effects but didn’t resolve all her symptoms...

She also had lupus, which she had been diagnosed with when she was about 14, although doctors had never made a connection between the disease and her mental health...

Last August, the medical team prescribed monthly immunosuppressive infusions of corticosteroids and chemotherapy drugs, a regime similar to what April had been given a few years prior. By October, there were already dramatic signs of improvement.

“She was like ‘Yeah, I gotta go,’” Markx said. “‘Like, I’ve been missing out.’”

After several treatments, Devine began developing awareness that the voices in her head were different from real voices, a sign that she was reconnecting with reality. She finished her sixth and final round of infusions in January.

In March, she was well enough to meet with a reporter. “I feel like I’m already better,” Devine said during a conversation in Markx’s office at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, where she was treated. “I feel myself being a person that I was supposed to be my whole entire life.” ...

Her recovery is remarkable for several reasons, her doctors said. The voices and visions have stopped. And she no longer meets the diagnostic criteria for either schizoaffective disorder or intellectual disability, Markx said...

Today, Devine lives with her mother and is leading a more active and engaged life. She helps her mother cook, goes to the grocery store and navigates public transportation to keep her appointments. She is even babysitting her siblings’ young children — listening to music, taking them to the park or watching “Frozen 2” — responsibilities her family never would have entrusted her with before her recovery.

Expanding the search for more patients

While it is likely that only a subset of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and psychotic disorders have an underlying autoimmune condition, Markx and other doctors believe there are probably many more patients whose psychiatric conditions are caused or exacerbated by autoimmune issues...

The cases of April and Devine also helped inspire the development of the SNF Center for Precision Psychiatry and Mental Health at Columbia, which was named for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, which awarded it a $75 million grant in April. The goal of the center is to develop new treatments based on specific genetic and autoimmune causes of psychiatric illness, said Joseph Gogos, co-director of the SNF Center.

Markx said he has begun care and treatment on about 40 patients since the SNF Center opened. The SNF Center is working with the New York State Office of Mental Health, which oversees one of the largest public mental health systems in America, to conduct whole genome sequencing and autoimmunity screening on inpatients at long-term facilities.

For “the most disabled, the sickest of the sick, even if we can help just a small fraction of them, by doing these detailed analyses, that’s worth something,” said Thomas Smith, chief medical officer for the New York State Office of Mental Health. “You’re helping save someone’s life, get them out of the hospital, have them live in the community, go home.”

Discussions are underway to extend the search to the 20,000 outpatients in the New York state system as well. Serious psychiatric disorders, like schizophrenia, are more likely to be undertreated in underprivileged groups. And autoimmune disorders like lupus disproportionately affect women and people of color with more severity.

Changing psychiatric care

How many people ultimately will be helped by the research remains a subject of debate in the scientific community. But the research has spurred excitement about the potential to better understand what is going on in the brain during serious mental illness...

Emerging research has implicated inflammation and immunological dysfunction as potential players in a variety of neuropsychiatric conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and autism.

“It opens new treatment possibilities to patients that used to be treated very differently,” said Ludger Tebartz van Elst, a professor of psychiatry and psychotherapy at University Medical Clinic Freiburg in Germany.

In one study, published last year in Molecular Psychiatry, Tebartz van Elst and his colleagues identified 91 psychiatric patients with suspected autoimmune diseases, and reported that immunotherapies benefited the majority of them.

Belinda Lennox, head of the psychiatry department at the University of Oxford, is enrolling patients in clinical trials to test the effectiveness of immunotherapy for autoimmune psychosis patients.

As a result of the research, screenings for immunological markers in psychotic patients are already routine in Germany, where psychiatrists regularly collect samples from cerebrospinal fluid.

Markx is also doing similar screening with his patients. He believes highly sensitive and inexpensive blood tests to detect different antibodies should become part of the standard screening protocol for psychosis.

Also on the horizon: more targeted immunotherapy rather than current “sledgehammer approaches” that suppress the immune system on a broad level, said George Yancopoulos, the co-founder and president of the pharmaceutical company Regeneron.

“I think we’re at the dawn of a new era. This is just the beginning,” said Yancopoulos."

-via The Washington Post, June 1, 2023

[ye4gerz]

my game, your rules. — ldh part two

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 6.5k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: lots of smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, reader has to talk on the phone while getting railed lmao. drinking. spitting. hyuck turns into a dom. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for your patience guys! if you haven’t already, pls comment to let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for the rest of the series. enjoy!

previous | next

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the computer screen in front of you. The spreadsheet was a mess of numbers that no longer made sense, blurring together like static.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked and looked up to see Renjun leaning against the edge of your desk, an incredulous expression on his face.

“What’s got you so distracted today?”

You shot him a glare and grabbed your coffee, taking a deliberate sip. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

“Sure,” he teased, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Well, whoever he is, he’s doing a great job living in your head rent-free.”

You choked mid-sip, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. “There’s no he! I told you—I’m just tired!”

Renjun’s chuckle echoed through the office as you slumped back in your chair, muttering curses under your breath.

That was just the kind of work relationship you had with Renjun—teasing, sarcastic, and occasionally helpful, though you’d never admit that last part. He’d been a mutual friend of Karina’s, and luckily for you, she’d used her connections to get you into the company.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our marketing proposals, feel free to keep daydreaming,” he said with a shake of his head, clearly amused.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. The last thing you needed was to get distracted at work. The past few weeks had been a relentless cycle of trying to prove yourself, dragging your name into meetings, and praying the higher-ups would finally take you seriously.

Renjun had already managed to make himself known. Despite being in the same intern program, he’d been invited to several major meetings while you were stuck at your desk, double-checking numbers and responding to emails no one cared about.

So when your boss finally invited you to sit in on a big meeting tomorrow, you knew you couldn’t mess this up. This was it. This was everything you’d been hoping for—a chance to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of more than spreadsheets and inbox cleanup.

And yet, here you were, staring at your monitor while your thoughts drifted elsewhere. To Haechan.

You and Haechan had officially planned a day for him to meet your family—as your boyfriend, that is. They were already familiar with him, given all the times he’d tagged along with Jeno. Now they were curious, eager to see this new side of him.

The closer the day came, the more nervous you grew. As if sensing your anxiety, Haechan spent more time with you, lingering around whenever you got home from work.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you grumbled, half-heartedly trying to shoo him away as he lounged on your couch.

He didn’t budge, grinning up at you. “I’ve got a couple of ideas in mind, but you’d probably kill me.” His gaze flickered up and down, far too obvious for your liking.

Your face immediately warmed. “You’re getting ahead of yourself now,” you snapped, your voice rising an octave.

Haechan shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “So what’s the game plan? We show up for dinner, gush about how madly in love we are, and then dip?”

You rolled your eyes. “Something like that.”

But his teasing faltered when he noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor—the way your shoulders tensed, your fingers fidgeting at your sides. His tone softened. “What’s on your mind right now?”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting toward the floor. “I have this really important meeting at work tomorrow—it could make or break everything for me,” you admitted, biting your lip. “Then there’s the dinner we need to plan, and after that, I have to come up with a way for us to pretend–break up. I’m still giving Jeno updates on this whole mess while trying to find my own place in case he actually does want me to leave. I haven’t even seen Karina since the arcade, and on top of all that, my coworker is depending on me not to screw up this presentation.”

You paused, exhaling heavily. “So why does it feel like all I keep doing is ruining things for myself?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop yourself. You froze mid-rant, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you.”

Haechan’s expression softened, concern replacing his usual playfulness. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m your best friend—well, besides Karina, of course—but you can always open up to me.”

Before you could protest, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a gentle hug. He swayed you slightly, one hand rubbing the top of your head in a soothing rhythm.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he said quietly, his voice steady and warm. “It’s okay to be worried. Just remember to take small steps before you try to jump ahead of yourself. Don’t stress about the dinner—leave that all to me, okay? Same goes for Jeno and everything that comes after. Let me take that burden off your shoulders.”

You looked up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “Are you sure? I’m the one who put you in this position in the first place.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled, his gaze meeting yours. “This was my idea, remember? We do this, and you get to live an easier life. I’ll make sure of that.” He leaned down slightly, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft, reassuring smile. “I promise to make this life less of a burden for you, pretty girl.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting you harder than you expected. Suddenly, you became acutely aware of everything—the closeness, the warmth of his embrace, the faint brush of his breath against your skin.

You gulped, your heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest. What are you doing?

For a moment, neither of you moved. His eyes lingered on yours, unreadable but intense, and it sent a wave of nervous energy rushing through you. You couldn’t fall for this. You wouldn’t.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Thanks, Hyuck. I mean it.”

“Anytime,” he replied softly, his hands lingering at your sides before he finally let you go.

As he stepped back, you busied yourself with brushing imaginary lint off your clothes, anything to distract yourself from the fact that you’d just felt safe in his arms and that it scared you more than anything else.

“I have an idea,” he proposed, leaning slightly closer with that familiar spark in his eyes.

You sighed lightheartedly, already wary. “You and your ideas.”

He only grinned, unfazed. “This one’s a real one, I promise. How does this sound? I’ll order us takeout, and I’ll help you practice for your presentation.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his offer, and you paused, caught off guard. He noticed it too, his gaze softening as he watched you process your thoughts.

“No silliness, I swear,” he added quickly, raising one hand in mock oath while the other rested dramatically over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

You looked at him then—really looked at him. His playful smirk had faded just enough to reveal something else underneath; a quiet determination to make sure you were okay, to make sure this went smoothly for you.

And just like that, you couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” you relented with a small smile. “But you’re paying for the takeout.”

He grinned triumphantly. “Deal. You get to choose what we’re ordering, by the way. I’m generous like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny it; takeout did sound good, and maybe, just maybe, his help wouldn’t be so bad. Even if he did goof around here and there.

By the time the takeout arrived, you were already seated on the couch, laptop open and presentation slides pulled up. Haechan set the food on the coffee table, making himself comfortable beside you.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he said, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “We eat, you present, and I give you my expert-level feedback.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Expert-level?”

“Hey, I’ve sat through enough of Jeno’s late-night study sessions to know how these things work,” he replied, smirking as he unwrapped his food. “Besides, I’m a very tough crowd.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, but you better be serious about this.”

“I’m always serious when it counts,” he shot back, and something about the way he said it made your heart flutter just a little.

With your nerves settling slightly, you took a deep breath and began walking through your presentation. As you spoke, pointing at graphs and summarizing your key points, Haechan listened intently, nodding in all the right places. It was a side of him you didn’t see often—focused, attentive, and surprisingly serious.

“Okay, pause,” he said after you finished your first run-through, leaning forward with an earnest expression. “First off, you sounded confident, which is good, but here—” he gestured to one of the slides—“you lost me a little. The numbers are strong, but you need to explain why they matter. Connect them to your main point more clearly.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “That’s… actually really helpful.”

“I told you I’m good at this,” he teased, but his tone remained gentle. “Let’s go over that section again, and this time, think of it as telling a story. Hook them in.”

For the next hour, you practiced, tweaking your phrasing and pacing as Haechan offered thoughtful critiques between bites of food. He was playful enough to keep you relaxed but serious when it mattered, pointing out where you could improve and hyping you up when you nailed a section. It also helped mid way when Jeno came home to find you two together, he kept his distance and comments to himself, but couldn’t help to smile as he made his way to his room.

“See?” Haechan said finally, sitting back with a proud grin. “You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

You let out a deep breath, smiling despite yourself. “Thanks, Hyuck. I mean it.”

“Anytime, pretty girl,” he replied softly, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long before he stood to clean up. “Now go get some rest. You’ve got this.”

The next morning, you walked into the conference room with your laptop tucked under your arm and your heart pounding in your chest. The senior executives were already seated at the long table, their expressions unreadable as they greeted you politely.

Renjun shot you a reassuring smile from the corner of the room, mouthing a quick “Good luck.”

Taking a deep breath, you set up your presentation, your fingers shaking slightly as you clicked to the first slide. You can do this, you reminded yourself.

Haechan’s voice echoed in your mind: “Hook them in. Tell a story.”

And so you did.

You began strong, your voice steady as you introduced the proposal. You outlined the key strategies you and Renjun had developed, seamlessly weaving data into a clear narrative. As you reached the section where you’d stumbled the night before, you found yourself explaining the numbers with confidence, emphasizing their relevance with ease.

The executives nodded along, some even jotting down notes as you spoke. You caught glimpses of interest in their expressions—raised brows, subtle nods—little victories that spurred you on.

By the time you reached the conclusion, your pulse had slowed, your confidence solid.

“And that concludes our proposal,” you finished, meeting the eyes of the room. “Thank you for your time.”

For a beat, there was silence, and the anxiety you’d pushed down began to creep back up—until the senior manager at the head of the table smiled.

“Well done,” she said, closing her folder. “That was clear, concise, and well-executed. This has real potential. We’ll discuss further details and get back to you.”

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before nodding. “Thank you,” you managed, relief washing over you.

Renjun met you at the door once the meeting ended, grinning from ear to ear. “You nailed it!”

“Really?” you breathed, a smile breaking across your face.

“Really,” he confirmed. “They looked impressed.”

As you made your way back to your desk, you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. You’d done it. The meeting you’d stressed over for weeks—you’d nailed it.

You pulled out your phone under your desk, typing out a quick message.

You: killed the meeting. you’re the best fake boyfriend ever.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed with a reply.

HC: i’m not surprised. told you you’d kill it. go ahead, admit that i’m your good luck charm ;)

You bit back a laugh, shaking your head, deciding to give in to his antics.

You: fine, you’re the best fake boyfriend and greatest good luck charm i could ever ask for. does that sound better?

HC: that’s what i like to hear, baby.

“Here’s to being a full-time marketing assistant!” you cheered, clinking your shot glass against Haechan’s, the two of you seated in the cozy corner of a dimly lit restaurant.

It hadn’t been long since the presentation day and you were pulled into the senior manager’s office alongside Renjun. The memory still felt surreal—her sharp, confident voice replaying in your head as if it had just happened.

“You two have something the team can really benefit from,” she had said, smiling as if she already knew how much this meant to you. “We incorporated some of your ideas from the previous presentation into the current project, and the feedback has been astonishing. We’d like to offer both of you full-time entry positions and officially put you in charge of strategies moving forward.”

Joy didn’t even begin to cover it. Renjun and yourself had accepted immediately, emotions bubbling over as you practically floated out of her office, and then she called you back.

“Your growth here since you first started has been remarkable,” she’d said, her words lingering with unexpected warmth. “Continue to keep up the good work.”

The encouragement had sent you over the moon. The grin on your face hadn’t faded since.

Now, here you were—celebrating over dinner with Haechan. It was his idea, of course. He’d texted you the moment you told him the news, insisting you couldn’t let something this big slide by without a proper celebration.

Prior to the dinner, you had grabbed your coat and prepared to meet Haechan, your phone buzzed. It was Karina.

Karina: CONGRATULATIONS ON THE PROMO BABE!! how are we celebrating tonight?!

You sighed, leaning against the wall as you typed back quickly, realizing you’ve been so busy with Haechan, you never got around to telling her what’s really going on.

You: thank you babe!!! and about that… i’m actually going out to dinner.. with haechan lmao.

The three dots appeared immediately.

Karina: HAECHAN?! as in jeno’s best friend haechan?? the same guy who’s always flirting with you, haechan???

Biting your lip, you debated what to tell her. For a brief moment, you considered lying, but Karina was your best friend. If anyone deserved the truth, it was her.

You hit the call button instead, knowing a text wouldn’t do it justice.

“I swear, it’s not what you think,” you started the moment she picked up.

“What?! I was just starting to get excited!” Karina replied, her voice sharp with curiosity. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “Haechan and I are fake dating. Just for a while.”

There was silence on the other end. Then: “You’re WHAT?”

“It’s a long story,” you rushed on before she could interrupt. “My family’s been nagging me to get my life together, so Haechan offered to pretend to be my boyfriend. It’s nothing real—we’re just buying me some time until they get off my back.” you lower your tone, thanking God, Jeno was gaming in the other room, unable to hear you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said flatly. “This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done.”

“I know,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “But it’s working. Sort of.”

Karina sighed dramatically, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “Okay, but if you catch feelings, I’m saying ‘I told you so’ first. Good luck surviving a fake relationship with someone who’s totally into you.”

After hanging up and adjusting your coat, you took one final look at yourself in the mirror. If there was anyone who would tell it like it is, it was Karina. As much as she swore Haechan was into you, a small voice in the back of your mind insisted you were overthinking it. Maybe he just wanted some fun.

You couldn’t ignore the facts. Based on his past relationships, Haechan had always jumped from one person to another, or things simply didn’t work out at all. He’d brushed it off before, claiming those weren’t real relationships—just distractions to keep him occupied, but that was years ago, before the two of you had grown closer as friends.

Since then, he’d been single. So what if this “fake relationship” was just his way of chasing the thrill he used to have? A perfect opportunity for fun without the mess of commitment.

The thought settled uncomfortably in your chest, but you pushed it away, letting out one last sigh before stepping out to meet him.

You’d briefly considered telling Jeno about your big news—maybe even inviting him out to celebrate—but the thought quickly passed. The last thing you wanted was to hear yet another lecture or feel the weight of someone else rushing your success. Tonight was about you, and for once, you wanted peace.

If there was anyone you’d rather spend the night celebrating with, it was Haechan. That alone felt like more than enough.

“You didn’t have to go all out like this,” you said, gesturing toward the table, where your favorite dishes sat alongside the drinks he’d ordered for both of you.

“I absolutely did,” Haechan replied, pouring you another shot, his grin smug but genuine. “You’re a big shot now, Miss Genius Full-Timer. I figured it’s only fair to treat you like one.”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “A genius, huh? I’ll remind you of that next time you call me boring for working late.”

He laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Fair enough, but seriously, I’m proud of you. You worked your ass off for this, you deserve it.”

His words caught you off guard. It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it—softly, earnestly, without a hint of his usual teasing tone. You stared at him for a moment, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your chest.

“Thanks, Hyuck,” you said quietly, and for a second, you let yourself sit in the moment.

Of course, Haechan couldn’t let things stay serious for too long. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now,” he teased, raising his shot glass with a wink. “To the coolest, smartest, and prettiest girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

The verbiage caught you off guard, wondering if he meant to say it like that. You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re the one drinking with me, so what does that say about you?”

You shook your head, raising your glass anyway. “To me, I guess.”

“To you,” he echoed, clinking his glass against yours once more.

The two of you lingered at the restaurant longer than you expected, your conversations flowing easily between teasing banter and genuine moments of reflection. Haechan had a way of making you forget about the pressure—of making even the most overwhelming days feel a little less heavy.

When the bill arrived, you instinctively reached for your purse, but he waved you off with a look of mock offense. “Put that away. I told you this was my treat.”

“Haechan, you really don’t have to—”

“I’ll start a tab and make Jeno pay if you keep arguing,” he cut in smoothly, flashing that infuriating grin of his. “Let me have my moment.”

You sighed but relented, tucking your wallet back into your bag. “Okay… but I’m paying next time.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied, standing up and holding your coat out for you like a gentleman.

As the two of you walked out into the crisp night air, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Haechan noticed immediately. It could be the buzz from the drinks you two shared but something about being in his presence was better than anything else.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, though you couldn’t stop the grin tugging at your lips. “It’s just… tonight was really nice. I needed it.”

His teasing expression softened into something warmer. “Anytime, beautiful.”

You looked away, suddenly too aware of how close he was as you walked side by side. Your heart fluttered for reasons you refused to admit to yourself, and you cursed the way he always managed to affect you without even trying.

It’s just Hyuck, you reminded yourself. This is just part of the plan.

As your hands brushed against each other, his fingers found yours. For a moment, you blamed it on the alcohol, but when neither of you pulled away, your fingers interlocked naturally. Haechan smiled at you—soft, content, and just a little smug. At that moment, you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince anymore.

“Wanna come over to my place?” he asked casually, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” you replied with a soft grin, “as long as it’s clean this time.”

He groaned dramatically. “That was one time! I’ll have you know my place is spotless these days.” He paused, grinning smugly. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you how clean my bed is.”

“Nice try,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you nudged him playfully. “Good luck with that.”

Even as you teased him, you didn’t let go of his hand, and neither did he.

His place was definitely a lot cleaner than you remembered—actually, it felt more spacious too. Haechan took your coat from you with a small smile, letting you bask in the warmth and comfort of his apartment.

“Told you so,” he said smugly as he hung your coat up.

“You planned this out, didn’t you?” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

There he went again, throwing out those pet names when they were completely unnecessary. You rolled your eyes, pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did.

You made your way to the couch, settling in as Haechan returned with two glasses of wine, setting them carefully on the coffee table. “More alcohol to celebrate,” he announced, flashing you a grin as he sat down beside you.

“So what show are you feeling?” he asked, his arm draping over the back of the couch, close but not quite touching you.

You glanced around his apartment, your eyes catching on his speakers. Bringing the glass to your lips for a small sip, you made a suggestion instead. “How about we just listen to music and talk?”

Haechan paused for a moment before nodding, a smirk pulling at his lips. “That’s why you’re the genius—you come up with all the good ideas.” He shot you a wink before moving to connect his phone to the speaker.

Soft R&B melted into the room, filling the air with an atmosphere that felt too intimate, too comfortable. Haechan returned to his spot next to you, a little closer this time, the space between you barely there. His arm slid along the back of the couch, and you could feel the warmth of him radiating beside you.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” he asked softly, his voice so casual yet so deliberate.

Him.

If you were being honest, it was all him—the tension that had been building between you two, the countless hours spent together that made the line between friendship and something more blurrier by the day. You’d felt it in the way his teasing turned softer, in the glances that lingered a beat too long.

Now, sitting here with his deep brown eyes meeting yours, you couldn’t deny it. The way his lips looked so… desirable. The way his hair fell perfectly against his forehead, sometimes parting in that effortlessly cute way. Or the fact that half the time, you forgot what he was saying because you’d gotten distracted staring at the faint moles scattered across his face.

You swallowed thickly and told yourself it was just the alcohol talking.

You licked your lips nervously, unable to stop your gaze from flickering to his mouth as you shifted on the couch. “Can I ask you something?” you murmured.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation, his stare deepening as he looked at you.

You exhaled softly, your fingers tightening around your wine glass. “Why all the pet names? I mean, Jeno’s not here, so who are we trying to fool?” Your voice was steady, but your eyes betrayed you—they lingered on his lips, no matter how much you fought it.

Haechan noticed. Of course he noticed.

He shifted closer, the arm behind you dipping lower until you could feel his presence surrounding you. “Who said anything about wanting to fool around?” he asked, his voice dropping to something almost husky.

You blinked at him, breath hitching as the room suddenly felt much smaller.

“What if I like it?” he continued, his lips a breath away from yours now. “What if I mean all of it? Would that be a problem, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t look away—couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Your gaze fell to his mouth as your pulse raced, and then you felt it; the careful weight of his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers light but deliberate.

Your breath stuttered, and you looked down, hyper aware of every single point of contact between the two of you.

This wasn’t really happening, was it? But as Haechan tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, you weren’t so sure anymore.

"I asked you a question," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with intent. His hands slid slowly toward your waist, fingers brushing against your skin in a way that left you breathless.

"But.. we’re just friends—shit—Donghyuck..." you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a plea as his hands gripped your waist firmly, his breath hot against the sensitive curve of your neck.

"Just tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll stop," he whispered, his tone soft but urgent. "Baby, can I touch you? Is this okay?"

His pleading eyes never left yours, and the vulnerability in them sent your heart racing.

The goosebumps on your skin were undeniable, and any lingering sense of shame had long since dissolved.

Your mind felt like a chaotic blur, thoughts sprinting faster than you could keep up. One moment, the two of you had been laughing over dinner, and now you were practically under him, struggling to remember how to breathe.

"Yes," you confessed. your voice is small, shaky but sure. "Please... continue," you begged, your words barely above a whisper.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips just before he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

The kiss started slow, deep but measured, like he was savoring every second, every taste, as if this might be his last chance. His hands explored your body with an intensity that made your skin burn, like his touch was the only thing grounding him to this moment.

Your body felt alive, every nerve ending ignited as desire pulsed through you. You didn't care that this was the same Haechan you had sworn weeks ago was just a friend.

Right now, all you cared about was the way he made you feel-the way you wanted him, desperately and without hesitation.

As the kiss grew heavier, your confidence swelled. You pushed him back slightly, straddling his lap, your hands finding the hem of your shirt. In one quick motion, you tugged it off, tossing it aside before glancing down at him breathless.

His dark, hungry gaze roamed over your newly exposed skin, his lips parting as his chest rose and fell heavily. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of this."

His eyes lingered on every curve, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Heat rushed to your face, a flush rising from a combination of the wine and the shy vulnerability creeping back in. Instinctively, you shifted to hide yourself, but his hands shot up, gripping your wrists gently but firmly.

"No, no, baby," he said, shaking his head. His voice softened, his gaze steady and filled with adoration. "Don't hide from me. Don't ever be shy about a body this beautiful."

Before you could protest, his lips descended on your skin, planting slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of your shoulder, down your collarbone, and across the sensitive expanse of your chest.

The contact was electrifying. Every kiss, every graze of his lips sent a spark of pleasure shooting through your veins. His tongue flicked against your skin, and as he tugged your bra off with a practiced ease, tossing it somewhere out of sight, the rest of your inhibitions melted away.

"God," he groaned against your skin, his voice muffled but filled with need.

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you with ease. The sudden movement made you gasp, your legs instinctively tightening around him.

Haechan carried you to his room, his lips never straying far from yours as he kicked the door open. He placed you down on the bed with care, hovering over you as his hands worked swiftly to rid you of the rest of your clothes.

His gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of you, bare and vulnerable beneath him.

"You're perfect," he said, almost to himself, as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours again with an urgency that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body, his touch igniting every inch of your skin, and as his own clothes joined the pile on the floor, all you could think was how badly you needed him.

“You’re always trying to deny me, but look at this,” he proceeds to hold your legs apart, his fingers slowly grazing against your core, covering them in your wetness as you let out a groan.

He hovers over you once more—shoving his fingers in your mouth. “So fucking wet for me and I haven’t even fucked you yet. Go ahead baby, taste yourself for me.”

You ran your tongue along his soaked fingers, savoring every trace of yourself before sucking on them greedily. When your taste was no longer there, all you could think about was wanting to taste him instead.

“Fuck,” he curses out, his eyes watching as you take his fingers between your lips. His cock starts twitching when your tongue starts lapping against them.

“Please, Hyuck..” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need.

“Speak up,” he grabs you by your thighs and yanks you closer to his mouth. “Tell me what you want and how you want it.”

“I... I want to feel your mouth please. Please, Hyuck, I want you to fuck me,” you look down and find his eyes locked on you, looking nearly possessed.

You felt his breath against your cunt as he let out a low laugh laced with something dark. Before you could say anything— he laps his tongue slowly against your entrance, making sure to savor every part of you.

“Holy fuck…” you gasped, the pressure and intensity building as his pace quickened. Who would’ve guessed your best friend had such a way with his mouth?

The lewd sounds of your cunt get louder as he shoves two fingers inside of you, and he begins sucking on your clit. He gave you no time to catch your breath, keeping his relentless pace until he finally found your sweet spot, making you squirm.

“Tastes so fucking good—I should’ve done this the first time I laid eyes on you. Look at you, my pretty girl is going crazy while I fuck you with just my fingers,” he fastens his pace against your spot and starts attacking your swollen clit with his tongue again.

You swore on your life you saw stars—and you hadn’t even finished yet. Your body was teetering on the edge, the feeling overwhelming, when suddenly he stopped.

Your head snapped towards his bedside table, the moment interrupted by the buzz of your phone vibrating against the wood. The flashing light of the screen read: Incoming Call: Jeno (Brother).

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your face, but before you could even process the situation, Haechan was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Hyuck, I’m so close. Just ignore it.”

But instead of obliging, he pulled his fingers out of you with maddening precision, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His other hand reached for your phone, and before you could protest, he handed it to you.

“Pick it up,” he said firmly, his tone low and serious, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“What—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off.

Without warning, he answered the call for you, setting it on speaker.

“Where are you? You’ve been out all night, and you’re not answering my texts. Are you okay?” Jeno’s familiar voice rang out, concern laced with irritation.

Your breath hitched, shame and annoyance flashing across your face as you met Haechan’s gaze. His lips curved into the faintest smirk, his hand now resting possessively on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns.

As you open your mouth to answer, Haechan holds his cock against your folds, slowly gliding it against the mess he caused, leaving you breathless once again.

“I-I’m okay. I’m with Karina.” You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan as you watch Haechan start to insert himself into you slowly.

“Okay, that’s fine. Are you going to sleep over at her place tonight or do you need me to come and get you?” He asked, completely unaware of the situation.

You can’t do this. The feeling of his length stretching you— filling you up slowly was too much for you to handle. You started to feel your eyes rolling back.

“Hello?? I asked you a question,” Jeno’s voice snapped through the speaker.

Your eyes flew open, and you were met with Haechan’s piercing gaze. His expression was dangerously calm, but the slow, deliberate way he began to withdraw from you sent a clear message, answer him.

“No!” you yelled abruptly, your voice shaky and desperate. “No, don’t pick me up! I—I’m sleeping over at Karina’s. I’ll text you in the morning, bye!”

“Um, okay, but—”

You hung up on him before he could finish, tossing the phone onto the table and turning to Haechan with a pout.

He snickers at you, shoving his length deeper into you. “Good girl. Since you did so well for me, I’ll let you cum around my cock. Huh baby, is that what you want?” He teases as his hips start moving faster.

“Yes, fuck” you moan. “Please Donghyuck, don’t stop—don’t stop!” You move your hips, bringing yourself closer to him. You take in every inch of feeling as his tip continues hitting the same spot from earlier—and his balls slapping against your lips with each thrust.

“You just couldn’t wait for this, hm? Years of teasing me and you could’ve had this all along, shit—“ he seethes as he feels your walls clench around him.

“This sweet pussy is all mine, right baby?” Haechan grabs your chin and holds your face, locking eye contact.

His eyes burned with an intensity you’d never seen before, locking onto you with an unwavering focus that made your breath catch. Your mouth was dry, parted slightly, but no sound escaped—and he noticed. The way his gaze flicked to your lips, sharp and deliberate, sent a shiver down your spine.

He spits into your mouth and pounds harder, “answer me now.”

“It’s all yours, Donghyuck!” You scream, then swallow, gaining your voice back and your walls squeezing against him again as you're about to reach your high.

He smirks and to finish you off he attaches his lips to your hardened nipples, playing with them as he focuses on your walls clenching around him.

“Donghyuck!” You scream one last time as you cum around him, your body giving in and your nails practically clawing down his back as you cling onto him for your sanity.

He lets out a high pitched moan, music to your ears as he caught up to his release shortly after, dumping his load onto your stomach. He slumps himself right beside you as you both catch your breath.

What. Just. Happened.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind as you kept asking yourself the same questions. You wanted to wish for regret, to muster the energy to question him—or maybe even sneak away. But your body was too drained, and a bigger part of you didn’t want to leave.

“Are you okay?” Haechan’s voice broke the silence, soft yet laced with concern as the two of you began to recover.

“Yeah, I’m good. Um… are you okay?” you asked awkwardly, your voice quieter than you intended.

You heard the smallest chuckle escape his lips, warm and teasing in a way that made your cheeks flush. “A thousand times more than just okay,” he murmured, his words sending a strange mix of comfort and flustered warmth through you.

He sat up, reaching over to the side table to grab a tissue. Gently, he cleaned you up, his touch careful and deliberate, as if he were handling something precious.

“What… what was that?” you asked carefully, your voice soft and unsure, afraid to ruin the moment.

“Call it your congratulations present,” he replied, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “We can talk more about it in the morning, yeah? For now, let me take care of you and get you to sleep before Jeno starts figuring out you’re not actually at Karina’s.”

You let out a small shriek, covering your face with your hands. “What did you make me do?!”

He laughed, pulling you into his arms as he tugged the quilt over the both of you. “Relax,” he said, his voice warm and amused. “You played it off really well.”

Groaning into his chest, you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, but it was quickly replaced by something deeper—a warmth, a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Fine,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

His arms tightened around you, and he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering just enough to make your heart flutter. As his steady breaths surrounded you, you found yourself growing drowsy, your body relaxing in the comfort of his embrace.

And just for tonight, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just pretend.

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck

[mustangbby]

WE NEED THE COMFORTT FOR THE BLIND READER FUN YOU CAN’T LEAVE US HANGING LIKE THIS?????? (can’t do angst no comfort 😔)

-> blinded mistakes - happy ending

synopsis -> your husband feels bad for the way he snapped the other day. how does he make it up to you?

a/n -> approximately 28 people have asked for a part 2. this is insane i have so many people to tag (who aren't anons, obviously) BUT THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY OTHER ONE OMGGGGG!!!! i love u all sm

warnings -> crying, but that's kinda all lol. this ones mostly just fluff!

w/c -> 951

-> kamisato ayato

it’s been a few days since the argument. 

ayato had been given an extension due to his circumstances, and didn’t have to worry about the ruined papers due to the kindness from the city's higher-ups who assigned him such papers in the first place. a lot of them were salvageable, too.

once he finished them, he leaned back, smiling from the stress relief. he got up, grabbed a cup of tea from the kitchen, and realized something.

you weren’t in the main room, waiting for him to leave his office so you two could spend some time together.

he then thought back about the events that took place. his chest immediately fills with regret at the words spoken to you. coincidentally, ayaka walked into the room.

“ayaka, have you seen y/n?” he hurried to his sister, who simply sighed.

“they’ve been in their room. they’ve been beating themselves up about the incident, so now they’re afriad of moving incase they bother you more,” she brushed past him. “good luck making amends. they’re incredibly hurt.”

he nodded, processing the information. he pacewalked to your shared bedroom, where he opened the door to see your sleeping form. 

he sat next to you, stroking your hair until you woke up. when you felt a hand on top of your head, you flinched a little bit.

“who’s there?” you said in a soft voice, unwilling to cause more issues by lashing out or showing aggression. 

“ayato,” he took his hand off your head. “i’ve come to say i’m sorry.”

you got up and found the headboard, slowly resting yourself up on it. “why all of the sudden? i hope you understand that you really hurt me, ayato. i’ve been too scared to get up these last few days because of the way you made me feel. the only times i’ve gotten up were to go to the restroom, bathe, and eat, but thoma would bring me something here. i still think about the words you said and your gestures.”

he looked down, sighing. he didn’t realize how much of an effect his words and actions had on you, but now that he’s hearing it from you, it seems like two more tons added to his shoulders. “don’t worry about it. it was salvageable, and you hadn’t ruined anything.”

“i wish you told me that when it happened, ayato,” you started to tear up. “i forgive you, but i don’t want to hear that again. it made me feel like shit.”

he nodded, hugging you tight, letting you cry into his shoulder. you felt around his body to realize he was wearing his white and blue suit, the one he usually goes out to fight in. 

“i’m not ruining this suit, right…?” you brought your face off his shoulder, but he immediately shoved it back in the same spot, silently telling you the obvious answer. 

he was glad he was able to resolve things. he couldn’t imagine a life without you.

-> wriothesley

it’s been about a week since wriothesley has seen you. he figured you went out of the fortress, staying over at a hotel or with a friend, like navia or chlorinde. he pretty much figured it would be chlorinde, considering she hasn’t come down to the fortress or has tried to initiate contact with him since the incident. 

he figured he’d try knocking on both doors, starting with navia. once navia told him everything he needed to know; that you were with chlorinde, he rushed over to her place.

“what are you doing here?” she scoffs as she opened the door, leaning against the doorframe. “your wife told me everything. i hope to trust that you didn’t embarrass her in front of the people who work for the palais mermonia, especially monsieur neuvillette himself.”

he shook his head, rubbing at his temples. “just let me see her, would you? i want to apologize.”

she nodded, clearing the doorway, allowing him to rush into the spare bedroom. 

you knew he was the one coming towards your room, considering his footsteps were a lot heavier than anyone you’ve ever known. his were tough, threatening. 

“wriothesley! w-what are you-” you started, your heart beating a little faster.

“i want to apologize for the things i said. i didn’t have to completely redo all my papers, and neuvillette understood the situation, and i was able to get an extent.”

you shook your head. “so you embarrassed me then, huh? you told them everything? that your stupid blind wife who is not even near good enough for you ruined your work?” 

he was speechless. he didn’t know how to respond to that sentence, so he put his hands on your shoulders, asking for silent permission to take you into a hug. once you nodded, he embraced you tightly. 

“no, i didn’t tell them that. i told him it was just a spill, and that i was able to save some of the papers. neuvillette is a very understanding man, and this never happens. i never need new copies or need extents, so he was willing to do it this time. nothing about you came up in our conversation,” he swallowed a lump in his throat before going on. “and you’re not stupid. you’re also the perfect choice for me, not good enough my ass. no matter what i have to do to make you see that, just because you have a disability doesn’t mean you’re unworthy.”

you started to cry, letting the tears spill into his chest, creating a damp spot on his tie. 

“so you don’t hate me then?” you sniffed.

“no, not at all. i couldn’t bring myself to hate you for something as dumb as that.”

[mythos-writes]

Revenge

Rhea Ripley x Wrestler! Reader

Plot: With Rhea gone because of injury, leaving (Y/N) alone in the Judgement Day, and the new target for Liv Morgan. But when Rhea returns from injury, all is fair in love and war

Word Count: 914

Warnings: None, just an angry Rhea Ripley :)

Main Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Since Rhea was sidelined after Wrestlemania, things slowly started to fall apart within Judgment Day. With Damian struggling to keep the group together, Finn and JD winning the Tag team belts was amazing. But having Dom running around and fooling around with Liv, was driving a spike deep into the heart of the Judgement Day. 

But the person taking Rhea’s absence the worst was (Y/N). Failing to get the women’s title after Rhea relinquished it, dealing with the group, and Liv bullying her was starting to get too much for her. The boys tried not to let Liv near her, but once Dom spent a lot of time with her, keeping her distance was getting harder. 

(Y/N) was getting ready for her match against her friend, Dakota Kai. Usually, Rhea would have come out with her, but because of the injury, she had been flying solo. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Damian’s voice booms in the small empty hallway. “Are you ok?” he asks. 

“Yeah. This has been one of the only places that Liv can’t find me to harass me,” she says, looking down at her boots. She never likes showing how much Liv affects her. 

Damian sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. He tries his best to get Liv away from her, and away from Dom, but he can only do so much. 

“Do you want me to accompany you to the ring tonight?” he asks. (Y/N)’s heart warms at the offer, missing someone in her corner for matches.  

“I think I’ll be fine. Thanks though. If I need you, I’ll send an arrow to the entrance,” she says while mimicking Damian's archer taunt. He lets out a breathy chuckle at her actions. 

“What are we laughing at?” Liv’s voice breaks their moment. 

“Um, nothing important,” (Y/N) says, becoming shy—Damian moves to protect her from the Women’s champion. 

“I was just talking to her before her match, which is next so if you excuse us,” Damian says, grabbing (Y/N) wrist and pushing their way past Liv. Once they got out of the hallway and away from Liv, she let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thanks, Damian,” she mumbles as they walk towards the gorilla.

“You know I got you,” he says while pulling her into his chest. 

“(Y/R/N) and Dakota Kai to the gorilla. Match in 2 minutes,” The voice calls out over speakers. 

“You ready?” He asks. She sends him a smile. 

“I’m ready. But the question is are they ready for me?” 

“Yes,” Dakota replies, getting a chuckle from the two members of TJD. Dakota’s music blasts as she leaves the gorilla. 

Damian places his hands on her shoulders, grounding her again. Damian has stepped up a lot to be there for (Y/N) since her girlfriend has been out. Rhea has also been in constant contact because she knew that (Y/N) wouldn’t have been 100% honest with her. After all, (Y/N) wouldn’t want her to come rushing back when she wasn’t ready. 

“You got this,” Damian reassures her before her music hits. She sends him one last smile, taking a deep breath, before walking through the curtain and out to the waiting crowd. (Y/N)  rocking black pleather shorts with a leather garter belt. Her top was a simple pleather wrestling top with a cut-up Judgement Day shirt over it. She made her way to the ring, ready to get this small match over with. 

Once the bell rings, (Y/N) was dominating the match. They had some good back and forths but (Y/N) keeps the upper hand. She could hear the growing noise coming from ringside, but she chose to ignore the noise. (Y/N) hits her finisher (a version of the Walls of Jericho), securing her win. Dakota rolls out of the ring, refs making sure she is ok.

As she was processing the win, something hard hit her in the back of the head. (Y/N) is looking up to the rafters and Liv Morgan’s face comes into her view. Liv gives her an overly ‘friendly’ wave. (Y/N) slowly rolls off of her back, still holding her head.

As (Y/N) slowly gets up, Liv grabs a steel chair and is ready to lay a beating on her. When Demons in your Dreams belt out through the arena. The crowd cheers, Liv and (Y/N) couldn’t believe it. Liv scampers out of the ring like her life depends on it while Rhea charges the ring, wanting to get her hands on her placeholder. 

Rhea made sure that Liv was nowhere close to the ring before she turns her full attention to (Y/N).

“Rhea?” (Y/N) questions. Rhea moves her hair out of her face, getting a better look at her girlfriend.

“I’m here love,” she replies. Refs came over to see if extra assistance was needed.

“I thought you were still out?”

“I’m not 100% clear but I couldn’t sit at home anymore and watch you get hurt at the hands of her,” Rhea was still enraged at what had been happening. “I’m also gonna have a chat with a certain Dirty Dom after getting you to the medics,” she says while helping (Y/N) out of the ring.

“I’m happy you’re back,” she whispers for only Rhea to hear. She smiles down to her partner and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Me too babe. Me too.”

[the-thing-withfeathers]

i’ll do anything

requested

a/n: tysm to the anon who sent this request. i’ve been so keen to write it. i love a super menacing reader, i think its so funny to write them.

pairing: sabrina carpenter x reader

warnings: smut!!!, physical violence (not to either of the main characters), public sex, cursing, thigh grinding, finger riding, nipple play.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you & sabrina decided to go out for dinner somewhere close to your apartment. you both had busy days and had no time or energy to cook.

you two were the it-couple of the century but you didn’t show yourselves much, valuing the privacy of your own home since you two were in the limelight so much.

due to this circumstance, you had your fair share of paparazzi follow you around when you did show your face.

when you two left the restaurant, there was a flood of paparazzi snapping photos of the two of you.

you were annoyed, you had a long day and you didn’t need any more of this. she was pouting, she clearly had just as shitty of a day as you. you gripped her hand and pulled her towards your car, trying to make a clear path for the two of you. you didn’t have security, it was just the two of you.

you snapped when you saw one of them shove sabrina, trying to get a picture. that was your girl, he had no right. in a fit of rage, you grabbed his camera and smashed it to bits. you followed by throwing a punch at him, your fist colliding with his face in no time.

sabrina jumped, shocked by your actions. she wasn’t afraid of you, she knew you were just protecting her. however, that protectiveness you were displaying, the furrow of your eyebrow, the hardening of your jaw… it was doing something to her.

“fuck off! or i’ll snap you in half!” you turned and told off a different man who was snapping photos of you breaking the camera.

the anger in your voice, the gritting of your teeth, it was beginning to get all too much for her. her thighs started to rub together as a last minute effort to contain the wetness pooling at her core.

you tugged her towards the car, opening the passenger seat for her. despite your anger, you were still polite, and that spurred her on even further. she was looking at you with bedroom eyes that were incredibly hard to miss. you leaned down to the seat and buckled her seatbelt for her, kissing her cheek in the process. she almost moaned just from that.

“glad you’re okay, baby.” you mumbled. you pulled away and shut the door, making your way to the driver’s seat.

you hopped in and buckled your seatbelt. you started the car and waited a couple of seconds.

“thank you for sticking up for me.” she said as you put the car into gear. she knew she couldn’t wait. she put the car back in park just as you were about to go. “now i need you to fuck me.”

you turned to her with wide eyes as you both undid your seatbelts. you had no idea you would get this reaction out of her. you reclined your seat, trying to move over to the back but she took that opportunity to straddle you in the driver’s seat.

“oh… you’re needy, needy.” you said, smiling as you felt her wetness on your stomach. you sat up and your fingers met her panties, circling the fabric. “sooo wet. did i really make you feel like this?” you asked, curiosity peaking.

the thought of the two of you getting caught was turning you on even further. the crowd of paparazzi just dispersed not even five minutes ago, you were sure some of them were lurking.

she nodded and bit down on her lip, her eyes fluttering shut as your fingers worked their magic. “mmhm… so hot seeing you angry…” she mumbled as you pulled her hips down to meet your thigh. she gasped, flinching a little bit. you loved getting a rise out of her.

“who’s my pretty girl?” you asked her, slowly moving her hips to grind on your thigh at a dreadfully slow pace.

“me… i’m your pretty girl.” she said, whimpering at how slow you were going. “stop teasinggg…” she said, prolonging her consonants.

“i’m not teasing, darling. you’re just so fucking needy.”

you grabbed her jaw in your hand, making her turn to look outside the car.

“look, you couldn’t even wait to get back home before needing me to fuck you dumb.” you said, growling under your breath. “such a good little slut for me.”

“yeah… yeah…” she said, under her breath, her eyes shut. “i’m your little slut. i love being your slut.” you could tell she was already sensitive, perhaps the overwhelming amount of arousal from earlier pushed her along further than you thought.

you raised your calf so your thigh pressed even harder against her core. you saw the wet patch start to form as she got herself off on the fabric of your pants. she gripped your shoulders, her acrylics digging into your shirt.

“mmph, fuck.” she said, leaning down to bury her face into your neck. “wanna cum, wanna cum for you.” she said, muffled.

“you cum when i tell you.” you said, yanking her hair back so she was sitting back up again. but you pulled her closer, placing your forehead against hers. “how bad do you want it?”

“so bad… so so bad… need to cum all over you.” she said, forcing her eyes open to make eye contact with you.

“you want me to let you cum?”

“please, pretty please. i’ll do anything.” she said, nodding.

you lifted the front of her skirt, pressing your thumb down on her clit every time she grinded towards you. she grunted softly as her clit hit your thumb every single time.

“you can cum, princess.” you nodded at her.

her breath started to hitch as her moans started to increase in pitch and frequency. she jolted as she finished all over your thigh, crying out a high pitched moan, her eyes squeezed shut.

you sighed, smiling at your work.

you fell back into the seat but pulled her along with you, capturing her lips in a forceful kiss. you pulled her upwards a little bit, lifting the skirt she was wearing so her entire ass was on display to the world.

“this is what you get. the world is gonna see just how desperate you are for me.” you laughed at the state of her. she was on your chest, her hands at your shoulders, her arousal dripping onto your bare stomach. you were suddenly pushing her panties down until they were at her knees.

you wrapped your arm around the back of her thigh, running a finger along her slit while nursing her cheek, pressing kisses to it as her eyes fluttered shut again.

her breath quivered as she tried to speak. “you’re just so hot… wanna ride your fingers.”

you figured you could do that.

“okay, baby. i’ll give you that.” you cooed. “but just you know.” you gripped her cheeks again. “it’s only cause i’m letting you have it.”

she nodded out of desperation.

you moved your hand to sit between the two of you, pushing her panties to the side once more. her mouth dropped open when you inserted a finger into her, quickly following up with a second one.

she moved her hips up and down, riding her fingers like her life depended on it. her hips bounced, raising up then slamming down on your lap.

you reached up to grope one of her tits, pulling her shirt down as you did. you toyed with the nipple, twisting it in between her fingers. you saw goosebumps travel across her chest along with a red blush.

you sat back up and took her other boob into your mouth, biting down on the nipple while you continued to play with the other one.

sabrina put her hands on the back of your head, pushing your face further into the soft pillow of her breast. you groaned softly, feeling the warmth of her chest.

she continued to get herself off on your fingers. you noticed her pace got sloppy when she started to fall back down harder after lifting herself up, you decided to help her out by pumping your fingers in and out of her.

“yes… yes. just like that.” she eventually had to stop lifting herself up, her legs starting to get tired. you continued to finger her, curling your fingers inside of her which got her thighs shaking.

you pulled your mouth away from her tit with a ‘pop!’ noise.

“you gonna cum again for me?” you asked, flashing her a cheeky and toothy smile.

“yes… keep going, i’m gonna… gonna cu—“ she couldn’t even finish her sentence before she reached her climax and was leaking all over your fingers. she cried your name out, pushing her body into yours.

she fell into your chest, you wrapped your arm around her back to hug her. your face softened a little bit when you saw her flushed and fucked out.

“good girl, that’s my good girl.” you comforted her. she whined softly, kissing you weakly.

“you need to stop getting angry, it makes me horny.” she coughed out, her throat was dry from her mouth hanging open so much.

“you understand that i will keep getting angry if it means we get to do this more?”

“please please please, don’t.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the next day when you two woke up. both your phones had blown up overnight.

you woke sabrina up after checking the reason why.

a photo of sabrina flushed out against your chest, panting while her skirt rode up enough to see her panties, had gone viral.

she covered her face in embarrassment as you laughed at her.

“fuckin’ paparazzi.”

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt3) | Leah Williamson

A bit more of Leah while everything around you gets more intense warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 - pt4 - my masterlist

Leah's love for tennis skirts had just been solidified. She found herself frozen, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. Your video call had caught her off guard, and the first thing to greet her on the screen was you, your back facing the camera, only in your sports bra and the skirt you wore during your recent match, which had wrapped up just a few hours ago.

"Hellooo?" Leah said, gently placing her fork back onto the table.

"Just a sec!" you called out, still with your back turned to the camera.

Leah watched as you reached into your bag, pulling out a black t-shirt that you slipped on.  Unlike the tight one you wore for tennis, this one was baggy—definitely a guy’s shirt, she thought.

"Did you watch my match?" you asked, now facing the camera on your phone, which sat at the coffee table in the room.

"Yep" Leah replied, flipping her phone’s camera to show the TV tuned to the sports channel.  “Feeling nervous about the quarterfinals?” she asked, sounding both curious and supportive.

"Nah... I don't know who I'll be facing yet though," you said, slipping off your socks. "At least I’ve got two days to rest before the game."

"Yeah, like you’ll actually rest," Leah teased.

"You're probably right," you chuckled knowing she had you figured out. During your first call yesterday, you had explained your intense training routine before matches. "What are you having?" you asked Leah, curiosity evident in your voice as you held your phone again.

"Smiley faces," Leah said, poking a potato and showing it to you through the camera.

"What?" you laughed, not quite sure what she was showing you.

"Potato smiles. Delicious," she said, grinning as she popped the potato into her mouth.

"Ew! Didn't your mum teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, though you found it amusing to watch Leah goof around. "Do they taste like real potatoes? I've never tried them."

"What are you talking about?" Leah gasped, dramatically dropping her fork onto her plate. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whoa, you sound genuinely offended," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

"Of course I am! How is it possible you've never tasted these? What did you eat all through your childhood?" she asked, her face completely serious.

"Leah... would you believe me if I told you I didn't try a nugget until I was 16?" you said, your tone turning more serious. "It was when a friend from school invited me over for dinner. My mum was always particular about what I ate." Leah's expression turned to a slight frown as she listened intently. "I always had well-balanced, hearty meals. She just wasn't a fan of processed food," you said, hoping to provide context and prevent any misconceptions about your mother.

"Sounds... kind of sad," Leah said, finishing her last potato. "I should invite you over for smiley faces, shouldn't I?" she asked with a shy smile.

"You could... I'd gladly accept," you replied.

"I'll think about it," Leah said, shaking her head with a playful grin. After a brief pause, her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, intrigued.

"Today, something caught my eye. Well, actually, it's been catching my eye for a while now, but I think I've finally spotted a pattern," Leah explained, narrowing her eyes. "Your chain around your neck... I've seen you tug on it from time to time."

By reflex, your hand went to your neck, and you felt a brief panic when you didn't feel the chain right away, realizing it was hidden beneath your shirt.

"Is it something significant to you?" Leah asked.

"Yes and no. It's kind of silly," you replied, settling into bed and arranging the phone between the pillows. "Sometimes when I'm feeling nervous or a bit anxious, I tug on it to remind myself it's there, but it's not a big deal to me. I started wearing it a few years ago for a silly reason."

You hesitated, thinking you might bore Leah with the details. But seeing her through the screen, now cozy on her couch with a blanket over her legs and a smile on her face, you realized that perhaps this time someone would actually be interested in listening to you.

"I've never been picky," you began to explain. "I never asked my parents for anything special. They always gave me everything I needed, especially when it came to things that could improve my game. But as for gifts, I always felt too embarrassed to ask for certain things." You bit your lip, trying to stay on track with your story. "The thing is, I always wanted a chain. I didn't care much about the material. Everyone at the academy had one, boys and girls. It's a common accessory, after all. I wanted to be like them."

You fell silent, suddenly feeling a bit silly for sharing such trivial details. Leah, however, misinterpreted your silence and blank stare, thinking she had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Did someone special give you the chain you wear?" Leah's gentle voice interrupted your thoughts.

"No," you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. "I bought it myself. That's why it has my initial on it," you explained, holding the chain up to the camera.

Leah felt conflicted. On one hand, the story ended with a bit of humor, but on the other, there was a hint of sadness. It was the kind of gift typically given by a loved one or partner, and in the end, you had to buy it for yourself… which was a bit sad.

"After I won my first WTA title, I had quite a bit of money, so I went to the first jewelry store I could find and bought it," you explained.

You noticed the puzzled expression on Leah's face; she had gone silent when you expected her to laugh at the end of the story. You smiled nervously, wondering if you were diving too deep into conversations with her.

"Maybe she thinks you're weird," the insecurity echoed in your head.

Just then, a notification popped up on your phone, rescuing you from overthinking.

"Ugh, I've got to go meet Lucas. He wants to work on my serve," you said, standing up quickly with your phone in hand.

"You have a great serve," Leah said without hesitation.

"You're only saying that because you're a fan," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that always fluttered when Leah complimented your game.

"Exactly, and I watch every move you make," she said, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How adorable," you thought to yourself.

"Tell your coach you don't need any improvement," Leah said.

"He's my coach. I pay him to help me get better," you said as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah, whatever," Leah responded with a playful smirk.

"Do you buy the whole love at first sight thing? Ouch!" you winced as your physio applied pressure, stretching your leg into a position that felt tight.

"Take a deep breath," advised your therapist, easing off the pressure. "There you go," she said, gently returning your leg to its natural position.

"It's not something I believe in, in case you're wondering," you said, laying face down on the table and removing your headphones. Conversations during your physio sessions were rare, you typically dozed off, hence the headphones to drown out the noise around you.

"I guess that's not your cup of tea," your physio chuckled softly, now focusing on massaging your calves. "Is she pretty? They say love often comes in through the eyes, especially if it's love at first sight, as you said."

"She's definitely pretty, yeah," you admitted, wincing as your therapist's thumbs applied pressure into your muscles. "Geez, who said these sessions were relaxing?" you muttered, closing your eyes to bear the discomfort. "She's pretty, but it's more than that... I feel like I can talk to her."

"Y/N, you talk with tons of people every day," your therapist reminded you. "Honestly, you never seem to stop talking," she added with a laugh.

"It's different with her. I can talk about anything, even tennis, but there's no pressure... It's like talking to her puts me at ease," you explained.

It was so calming that you had fallen asleep chatting with her the last two nights.

"I shouldn't be catching feelings for someone I'm just getting to know," you sighed.

"Well, actually, it's perfectly normal," your physio reassured you.

You sighed with relief as the tension in your muscles began to ease under her skilled hands. It wasn't a sigh of relief because someone validated your growing feelings for Leah. Definitely not.

"There are times when love hits you fast and hard, you know? When it's intense." the woman explained, now focusing on your back. "And you, my dear, are intense. It wouldn't be surprising if you fell in love just as fast."

"I haven't fallen in love," you protested, attempting to sit up from the table, but your therapist effortlessly kept you pinned down with a swift motion.

"And you're impulsive," she added with a tired sigh, familiar with your reactions. "I'm surprised you haven't declared yourself to her already."

"There is no one," you insisted.

"You've already admitted there's a pretty girl and that you have feelings for her, even if you're not quite sure what those feelings are yet," she teased with a mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone special," she suggested, helping you onto your back on the table. "She could be good for you… here" she said, gently touching your heart. "And here," she continued, touching your temple with her finger.

"What are we watching?" Lia asked, settling down next to Leah on the couch. They had planned a dinner date to catch up, but Lia suspected it was more about Leah avoiding another night of cooking.

"There's a match about to start," Leah replied, quickly grabbing the remote from her friend's hands.

Lia glanced at the screen, which now displayed the stats of two tennis players. "Has Wimbledon started already?"

"No," Leah sighed, rolling her eyes. "There are tournaments throughout the year, not just the Grand Slams," she explained, her focus on the screen.

"Since when are you an expert on this?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's basic knowledge, not all sports revolve around football," Leah defended herself as the players stepped onto the court.

"Is this match a big deal?" 

"It's the quarterfinals," Leah replied.

"How do they win?" Lia inquired further.

"They win by taking two sets." Leah explained, her irritation starting to show.

"And how do they win those sets?" Lia pressed on.

"God, Lia, just watch and you'll figure it out," Leah snapped, feeling her nerves creeping in. She was clearly on edge.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Lia eyed her suspiciously.

"What's wrong with her? What's she doing?" murmured Leah, leaning back on the couch, her eyes glued to the match on the tv screen.

"Huh?" Lia turned to her.

"She's struggling to reach her shots," Leah pointed out, just as you lost another point. "She had the match in her bag."

It was true. You had started strong, winning the first set 6-1 and even taking a 4-1 lead in the second set. But now, your opponent had fought back, and you found yourself in a 1-6 tiebreaker, unable to secure more than a single point.

"Set point," was announced on the tv, and Leah waved her hand.

You positioned yourself, shifting from side to side, anticipating your opponent's serve. But before you could react, she sent a powerful shot down the line, leaving you with no chance to return it.

"Bloody hell," Leah exclaimed, standing up from the couch.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so into tennis," Lia remarked, intrigued by Leah's intense reaction.

"It just frustrates me when they give away easy points during a match," Leah explained, which was partly true. Your unforced errors had contributed to your opponent's comeback in the set.

Leah let out a long sigh and sank back onto the couch. She couldn't relax until you managed to turn the match around and win the third set tiebreaker 7-4, securing your spot in the semifinals. You had come dangerously close to losing your spot in the semifinals.

Leah couldn't bring herself to try talking to you all day. It had been a dreadful match, one of the worst she had ever seen you play. Despite not knowing you that well, Leah figured you probably needed some space and didn't want to talk to anyone for a while. She had watched you storm off the court after the match, something she had never seen you do before. The heated exchanges with the chair umpire and the tense moments with your coach had been impossible to ignore. 

She had only mustered the courage to send a brief message: 

"Hope you're doing okay." 

But you hadn't responded yet.

So, when she was already tucked up in bed, half asleep, she was surprised to see an incoming video call from you.

"Y/N?" Leah replied, not looking at the screen as she fumbled to switch on her nightstand lamp.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up." you apologized.

"I wasn't quite asleep yet," Leah said, finally turning her attention to the screen. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting up in bed, noticing your slightly red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah," you lied, settling back on the couch and pulling your blanket up to your neck. "What about you? How was your day?"

"I just watched your match, which was horrible," Leah thought, feeling sorry for you, but instead she replied, "Not much. I just had dinner with some friends."

Leah couldn't help but smile as she saw your features relax at her answer. She knew you had probably anticipated her bringing up the match. You had mentioned how intense your day usually was: tennis talk at breakfast, tennis talk in the afternoon, tennis talk at dinner.

"Nothing too delicious," Leah continued. "Did you have dinner?"

You didn't respond verbally, instead, you shook your head and bit your lip, a sign of your struggle to hold back tears. Leah immediately noticed.

"I was running late and didn't feel like eating alone," you explained. "But my physio brought me a sandwich about half an hour ago. I'm just not hungry."

Leah frowned. She mentally calculated the hours since the match had ended at noon. Considering the disastrous game, you probably hadn't eaten afterward, and your stomach was likely empty except for breakfast.

"You should eat," Leah insisted gently.

"I don't want to eat alone, it's... depressing," you admitted, sinking further into the couch. Leah could barely see your mouth now, the blanket covering you.

"Okay, hold on," Leah said, letting out a sigh as she got out of bed. She placed the phone on her bed and reached for a hoodie. "Come on," she said, picking up her phone again.

You watched through the screen as Leah left her room and headed to her kitchen, leaving the phone on the counter.

"Okay, what kind of sandwich did you get?"

"Huh?"

"I'll eat with you," Leah explained simply, reaching for the bag of bread. "Well?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was such a tender gesture, one that softened your heart. Leaning over to the coffee table, you picked up the bag your physio had left there. You hadn't even opened it yet.

"Let me see..." you said, pulling out the sandwich and reading the ingredients on the box. "Tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and salad cream."

"Ugh, not my favorite," Leah said, her face visible at the edge of the screen as she looked through her fridge.

"What's your favorite?" you asked, starting to unwrap your sandwich. Suddenly feeling your appetite return.

"I'm a ham and cheese girl. I like to keep it simple," Leah explained, already assembling her own sandwich.

"Sounds boring," you teased with a chuckle. Leah stuck her tongue out at you. "I prefer egg sandwiches. Probably the store didn't have any."

"What else did your physio get you?"

"Uh... a bottle of water and a bottle of juice."

"Orange?" Leah guessed, reaching for a box of orange juice.

"Yes," you confirmed, smiling as you watched Leah return to the couch, settled in just like you with a blanket on her lap. She held up her sandwich to the camera.

"Shall we eat?"

An hour later, you were in bed, with Leah still on the screen, tucked under her own sheets. The time had flown by as Leah passionately tried to convince you why Arsenal was the top club in London.

"Uh, according to Google, the men's team hasn't won a league since 2004," you teased in a mocking tone, enjoying Leah's furrowed brow and her stumbling attempts to defend her team. "And the women's team... maybe I shouldn't say anything," you added innocently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oi! You're being mean!" Leah protested. "I just won a cup, you know?"

Of course you knew, you had seen the post on Leah’s instagram. 

"Winning a cup isn't quite the same as winning a league," you continued to tease.

"What would you know about it? You only just learned the difference between a cup and a league because I explained it to you," Leah retorted, though she couldn't help but crack a smile. Despite her attempt to feign annoyance, she couldn't shake the sense of relief seeing you in a better mood than an hour ago "You're such a headache sometimes.”

"Sorry," you said between laughs. "Well, I'd better get some sleep. Got an early start tomorrow."

Leah's heart sank at the reminder of your upcoming semifinal match. She knew you had pushed yourself to the limit today, both physically and mentally.

"Thank you," you added, catching Leah off guard.

"Huh?" Leah's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For not bringing that up," you explained, your cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "I really appreciate it... I just needed to talk to someone. And you're easy to talk to."

Leah's heart skipped a beat. 

"It was nothing. You can talk to me anytime, about anything, including that," Leah assured, offering you a warm smile.

You fell silent for a moment, your eyes closed. Leah almost thought you had drifted off to sleep until she heard your voice again.

"I've never won a semifinal match on grass," you confessed. "I hate playing on grass. I can't move like I want to, can't slide, the ball bounces weird... It's a faster game, and I don't like it."

Leah struggled to find the right words to comfort you, though it seemed you weren't seeking comfort. You just needed to vocalize your thoughts.

"Well… get some good rest," you said "Speak to you tomorrow."

"Sleep well," Leah replied softly, just before you disappeared from her screen.

Leah hadn't been able to watch your game; she'd been tied up with a radio interview in the afternoon. Perhaps it was a good thing, sparing her from witnessing what felt like a complete disaster.

You were trailing 1-0 after losing the first set 6-2.

"Y/N, listen up," Lucas's voice echoed in your head as you wiped your face with your towel. He sounded both concerned and frustrated. "You've got to get up to the net. Focus and do it just like we practiced this morning.”

The tension intensified in the second set, now tied at 3-3. Each point intensified, increasing the pressure on your already fatigued body.

Struggling to steady your breath and calm your racing heart, you attempted to regain your composure. Lucas's instructions only seemed to agitate you further. Your serves lacked accuracy and power, the weight of exhaustion settled in your arms and legs.

With your breath hitching, you turned to Lucas "Gotta keep your mouth shut," you muttered to him, before returning to your position on the court.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut out your coach's voice which, instead of helping, was only adding to the overwhelming pressure and fear of failure creeping in. 

For a while, you felt completely disconnected from the game, just focusing on getting the ball back over the net and hoping for the best. Your ears felt muffled, you swung at balls in every direction, chasing after them when your legs allowed. It felt like your body was on autopilot.

When you finally regained control, you glanced at the scoreboard. It read 5-4, with the set tied at 30-30. Had you been playing for that long already?

"Just 2 more points and I'm out," you muttered to yourself, accepting the ball from the ball kid who hesitated a moment before returning to her position. Your emotional state must have caught her attention, you could feel tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall now. You couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them.

You adjusted your visor lower, not too concerned that it obstructed your view. After all, you were resigned to the inevitable defeat, recovering from this set, let alone the entire match, felt beyond your grasp.

Taking a deep breath, you served. Your opponent effortlessly returned the ball, and when you sent it back, she executed a perfect drop shot with spin. Despite your best efforts, your legs failed to get you to the net before the ball bounced a second time. 

All you could do was shake your head and chuckle at the brilliance of the shot. It was a damn good point.

The next rally was a bit longer. Determined to get at least a point, you decided to take a calculated risk. You placed the ball strategically close to the net, hoping to force your opponent into a difficult position. Yet, she managed to return the ball, forcing you to approach the net. Anticipating her move, you weren't surprised when the ball sailed over your head, landing just inside the line behind you.

And with that, it was over.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you shouted as Lucas and your physio entered the dressing room. You pointed your racket at him. "I don't want to hear a word from you!"

"Y/N, calm down," Lucas said, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I said no! Get out!" Tears streaked down your face, your voice raw with frustration. "You're the reason I lost!" you accused him, venom lacing your words as you vented on your racket, smashing it against the ground. "You told me to charge the net," you seethed, the anger palpable. "And what happens? She pulls off the damn shot of her life!"

Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely his fault.

Lucas struggled to make out your words through your sobs and the racket's crashing impact. He signaled to your physio to grab your bag of remaining rackets before you decided to destroy another one.

"You need to cool off," your physio interjected, her tone firm.

"I need everyone to leave me the hell alone!" you yelled, throwing the shattered pieces of your racket against the wall in a burst of frustration.

Lucas shook his head and firmly guided you to sit on the bench. "Listen to me," he said,but you shook your head, lost in your thoughts. Frustrated, Lucas removed your visor and tossed it aside to get a clear view of your face, then gently tilted your chin to meet his eyes. "I said listen to me, kiddo."

You met his gaze, holding your breath. He looked visibly upset, his brow furrowed deeper than usual. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed the new wrinkles and more gray hairs, likely a result of the stress you often caused him.

"You played well today," he continued, his voice steady but firm, still holding your gaze. "But she played better. It's not a reflection of your performance, it's not about you playing badly. Can we improve? Absolutely. And we will, I promise you that. But for now, we need to stop."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"You're drained," your physio chimed in. "Your body can't handle more. Your muscles are exhausted."

"And your mind isn't much better. Since the first game you've been clouded," Lucas added, sighing. "We're heading back to England first thing tomorrow."

"Eastbourne?" you asked. 

Lucas shook his head. "No, you won't be playing in any more tournaments until Wimbledon. I've made it clear, you need to stop," he said firmly, now taking a seat beside you. "We're heading to London. Your psychologist is already there."

You had resisted having a psychologist travel with your team for months, but now circumstances were different.

"You'll see the psychologist tomorrow and then you'll rest for a few days. Your rackets are off-limits," your physio said, your bag slung over her shoulder as she tried to lighten the mood. "Seriously, no tennis, not even for fun," she added quickly, when she saw you about to protest. "We'll focus on light gym sessions, nothing more. These are your days off, you'll do anything but tennis."

You nodded, feeling somewhat scolded, almost like a child.

As the tension eased, the reality of a few days off in London began to sink in.

"Leah," you muttered. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" Lucas turned to you when he heard your voice. You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud.

"What time is our flight?"

[truelovepolinator]

Nicola and Luke are ABSOLUTELY TOGETHER and have been all along and here’s how I know

(Friends, I’ve just finished this and it is INSANELY LONG. Like, two looong book chapters long. But I PROMISE it’s worth it. I was gonna cut it into multiple parts to make it more readable, but I’m going to be super busy over the next few days, so I wouldn’t have a chance to post subsequent parts until probably Christmas, so I’ve decided to drop it all now so I don’t delay the final victorious conclusion. Sorry, it’s so long, but I don’t really have time to rethink it and try to tell the story in a more concise way. Again, I think you’ll be glad you stuck with it if you want to feel as thoroughly confident as I am that Nic and Luke are absolutely together.)

(Also, I have to run now, but I'll come back to add relevant photos/videos as time allows. But I'm sure you're all familiar with them anyway.)

So I want to start by saying something I’m sure I’ll repeat. This is, of course, just my opinion and supposition based on the evidence available to me. But I also want to say, I am absolutely, positively sure now in a way I have never been. Genuinely not a doubt in my mind, and I think you’ll agree by the end of this.

It’s also worth noting that this may be nothing new to some of you. I’ve only been on this platform for a week and have barely scratched the surface of the great content here. So this is how *I* came to the final, joyful conclusion that everything is right with the world where lukola is concerned. I had long been sure they belonged together, but was afraid to embrace the theories about them actually being together now for fear of heartbreak, plus all the confusing signals about A & J, etc.

But all that changed a couple nights ago when I finally got the last piece of the puzzle I needed to see the big picture. There were just too many things that didn’t make sense, until they did! I literally couldn’t sleep that night (seriously only got about 2 hours) and then spent next day telling my husband the story for hours (in 20-30 minute increments as he could spare them during his slow, Christmas time work day).

My husband has been a patient, long-suffering skeptic through all of this. He’s put up with my rants and constant videos I just had to share, but he’s been completely convinced from day one that they simply leaned into their friendship to turn on faux relationship vibes for PR. He was absolutely sure it was all just make-believe for the fans. No matter what I showed him, he could not be convinced.

Until yesterday. Yes, I convinced the toughest skeptic in town.

I think it’s important to start with my journey into the Lukola fandom for context. I was a casual Bridgerton watcher until this season, and had never read the books. I liked season 1, I loved season 2, and I was looking forward to watching season 3.

I had planned to wait to watch the first 4 until the second half was about to launch (so I wouldn’t have to wait for more), but I realized after about a week that we needed to watch it immediately before everything was completely spoiled by timeline gifs and clips.

Needless to say, I was beyond hooked. Instantly. Season 3 was another level for all the reasons you all know. Finally I could engage safely with the fandom, but the process from occasional Polin/Lukola content to nonstop immersion took some time. So even following the second half, there was a TON of footage I hadn’t seen.

All of this to say, I basically missed all of the World Tour stuff as it was happening, and it took well into the summer to finally see so many amazing clips and edits that I was absolutely fucking sucked into the lukola wormhole. However, I was well behind many of you on the curve, and even to this day, I’m still catching up on things.

But by late summer, I was all in. I was sailing high on USS Lukola (or I suppose that should be the HMS Lukola!) because I saw exactly what you all saw. This was clearly real, their feelings were indisputable, and everything about their behavior and much of what they said was so far beyond PR, even “faking couplehood” PR.

They were real. Even if he had this dumb girlfriend. (I say that only in the good-natured, abstract sense that I wanted him with Nic, not in a personal “actually about her” sense. In fact, I’ve never said anything hateful about either A or J and I hope I never will.)

WHY AREN’T THEY TOGETHER???

I couldn’t resist the mystery.

It drove me absolutely crazy for months trying to understand why they weren’t together. Nothing made sense, but I mentally explored literally every possibility. They’re afraid of ruining their friendship? They’re afraid of disrupting the production if it goes wrong? These possibilities at least made some kind of sense and seemed to be the only explanations I could find. But in my mind, they weren’t good enough reasons to resist what these two so obviously had. Still, I’m not them, so that was easy for me to say. I had nothing to risk in this.

One or both of them is/are secretly gay? Soulmate besties instead of soulmate lovers? I didn’t think this was the case and nothing made me believe this. Yet, I was attempting to allow for every possibility. Still, with Nicola being the super vocal “gay icon” that she is, it was hard to imagine she wouldn’t live out and proud if that was the case. And apparently she lived with an unknown man for two years. Though she does always keep her private (romantic) life super private, so I suppose who knows? And, of course, Luke had two very public past relationships with women, but again, who knows, I suppose? This option doesn’t ring true at all, but it does exist in the universe of possible explanations for this inexplicable situation.

They love each other in a soulmate way, but somehow one of them just isn’t “attracted” to the other? Certainly, if the stories about Antonia were true, that might suggest that Luke might be attracted to an entirely different physical type than Nicola. But that didn’t ring true either because LOOK AT THEM TOGETHER! He can’t take his eyes off of her, let alone his hands. And the same for her. They are magnetized to each other. If that’s not attraction, what is?

One of them has baggage and isn’t ready for a real, serious relationship? This one seemed possible. People can have hang-ups or wounds for all sorts of reasons, and letting someone in – especially someone who might actually be your soulmate – can be terrifying. Self-protection by avoiding relationships and/or distracting yourself with less meaningful relationships is a natural way of coping with baggage. Yes, maybe this one? Neither of them seems obviously wounded, but what would I know? Most people don’t wear their wounds on their sleeves, least of all during a PR tour. Still, the energy flow between them seemed anything but wounded. It seemed like the healthiest, happiest thing in the world.

People kept saying, they’re blind and they don’t see it yet. But I don’t believe anyone can be that blind. Especially after watching all the countless edits and clips of their tour, which we know they did because Nicola is chronically online and sharing with Luke the best of it all (and sneaky Luke is likely lurking also).

So at the end of the day, I had no good explanation. It just kept not making sense.

Then those music festival photos of Nic and Jake (I’ll abbreviate sometimes for ease, but I do say their names) showed up. The fandom erupted into chaos with full reactions across the spectrum including a bizarre, almost immediate burst of (not yet named) jakolas, which felt like a disproportionate response to a few photos.

Admittedly, those photos did look quite friendly, and touchy, and yes, they stood arm-in-arm. But lots of friends stand like that at concerts. And Nic is known to be touchy-feely, so let’s not go overboard, I thought. However, I did acknowledge (in my head, I didn’t weigh in online at all) that it suggested that it COULD be romantic. I opted not to freak out, because either way, Nic’s love life is her own and I want her to be happy.

And it’s worth saying here that both of their private lives are none of my business, none of any of our business, and even writing this is completely at odds with that truth. I acknowledge that. But what I told myself, and actually meant it, was that I was going to stay out of it unless and until NicLuke got together. That was the only place I would invest my energy since they’ve both said they think it’s sweet that fans ship them. If they dated others, good luck to them. Be happy. But when the time comes…

Yes, friends, the time has come!!! But back to my story.

Note that (because again, I was still catching up), I hadn’t yet seen the swimming in Sorrento photos and had missed that piece of the puzzle at that point. Throughout this time, I’d see people refer to things on Twitter like everyone already knew what they were talking about, but hardly anyone ever took the time to explain. So I got lots of glimmers of things that others felt were notable, without actually knowing any details. Those pictures were an example. Another was the Claddagh ring.

I’m very grateful to some amazing deep dive blog entries by @threeacttragedy that explained the ring, “Bless the Telephone,” and other meaty, important history that I’d previously only heard mentioned in passing. In fact, one of her blogs is what first brought me here by referral from Twitter. And if you don’t follow her, you should!

In the past week, as I started reading blogs that broke down past dates and clues, I finally started looking them up one by one and trying to put the pieces together in my head. I’d seen the swimming photos by then, but I revisited them. I dug in to try to understand the references to a “New Year kiss” from the night the friend group (Rory, etc.) posted photos together from a Soho House party. I reviewed Hot Boy Summer, I rewatched the incredibly emotional video of Luke meeting Nicola’s mom, I looked at photos of the Claddagh ring and went to Chupi’s website. I learned about the LA photos from April, both Antonia’s version and the InStyle Polaroids. I reviewed all the photos of Luke and Antonia that I could find. And I reviewed all the photos and videos of Nic and Jake that I could find. Also, I listened to “Bless the Telephone” about one hundred times. Lol.

Regarding Luke and Antonia, I had the same response in this deep dive I’ve had every time. Weird. I mean, if I didn’t feel so strongly that Luke was in love with Nicola, and if I knew nothing about him except he was some hot actor, could I see him dating someone like A? Sure. But the fact that there are almost no pictures of them posing together, alone like a couple, is weird. Even if it’s super casual and she was just his date to some stuff. The fact that Luke looks grumpy in both sets of pap photos (premiere night and swimming in Sorrento), but A is smiling happily in at least one of the premiere night photos is weird. The fact that after the Sorrento pap photos, Luke seems to leave his friend group to come home early, and then stops liking any of his best friend Rory’s photos from there on, weird.

The fact that in the fall, she posts pictures harkening back to a place and time they were apparently together, but without any actual photos together, weird. And the continual drip, drip of Likes from Luke is weird. And then when a photo of Luke in a restaurant in Rome is posted by the restaurant, she immediately follows with a video story of someone making pasta in the same restaurant, weird.

Perhaps weirdest of all, the fact that she pre-posted the LA pictures, and then he gave other versions of the same shots to InStyle. Especially the switching seats thing. If my husband and I were taking pics of each other at a café, I’d take his picture in front of the traffic, and he’d take my picture in front of the restaurant, because that’s where we’d be sitting. Across from each other. So why switch seats to take the photos? It’s not like that street with traffic was such a fantastic backdrop that we’d each need our turn with that shot? And they’re the same, with the same table number, but different. Sure, traffic moves, but weird coincidence that they each had a white truck, but a DIFFERENT white truck. So, like I said, weird. Always implying they were together, but never actually saying/showing it. Weird.

I read all sorts of theories from pragmatic (we just have to accept that they’re dating) to hateful (they’re not together/never were, but she’s obsessed and keeps inserting herself in a pathetic, desperate plea for attention and followers) to seemingly far-fetched (some sort of NDA that means for some reason Luke is obligated to Like her photos). Only the first of these seemed plausible. I maybe didn’t like it (not maybe, I didn’t like it at all), but I thought, “Yes, I guess we just have to accept that they’re probably together until they tell us otherwise.”

(Though I held out a small sliver of “but we don’t know anything for sure until L and/or N tell us themselves” hope, which remains true even as I write this.)

Now, let’s talk about Nic and Jake. First, there were those shots from the concert (discussed above). Then, I believe, were the NYC shots (if I’m not confusing the order). In the NYC shots, they were both there, but they weren’t especially intimate in any interpersonal sense. Then, the pap shots on the street posted on DM, ostensibly catching them walking home together, holding hands and arm-in-arm after a night at the pub. With those photos came an onslaught of fandom fury and gossip site reporting about how “Nicola Coughlan confirms her relationship…” Same story runs across a bunch of trashy sites, all saying the same thing and citing an unnamed source talking about how besotted they were, or whatever the quote was.

Admittedly, I was among the furious fans. Not because of what the pictures showed. Again, I was trying to be serene and Zen about them and their private lives. I believed with all my heart that NicLuke belonged together, but if now wasn’t their time, I’d have to wait. I didn’t love that I’d heard he was only 24, but I was trying to balance my efforts to be a non-judgmental person with my discomfort over that issue and reminding myself that her choices are none of my business (unless she chooses Luke!).

So I did my best to refrain from judgment, even as I saw the fandom erupt into toxic madness about whether it was true, whether he was gay, whether the age gap was wrong, whether DM lied about the date, and if they did (which they did), why? But I figured, unless the photos were very, very old, things weren’t likely to have changed in their relationship over a couple weeks, so I wasn’t overly concerned about the date.

However, I was angry about all these stories (basically the same story across the board) announcing that she’d “CONFIRMED” the relationship. It made me very angry that they said she confirmed something when she’d done nothing of the sort. I wasn’t prepared to argue that she wasn’t dating Jake at that point, but why would they all run this story, with this headline, when what actually happened was a paparazzi photographer snapped shots and sold them, then the media drew conclusions from what they saw.

Nicola never confirmed a damn thing. So why were they running this headline so universally?

I was also angry that the photos existed at all. Photos in her neighborhood could reveal her location and put her safety at risk. Also, how did they happen to be there to take those photos late one specific night? Felt like they must have received a tip. But I moved on and forgot about that part.

Time went on and I saw more and more discussion of Jake’s sexuality. I don’t really want to get into that here because I don’t really feel comfortable speculating about anyone unless they choose to explicitly come out, but I did finally start poking around his page, Douglas’s page, etc. and began to understand why people were saying what they were saying. However, I reminded myself that bi/pan-sexuality exists and I wasn’t willing to partake in bi-erasure, so I held my tongue and kept watching.

Now, at this point, I want to remind us all that Nic has always been extremely private and uttered nary a peep in public about her romantic/sexual life. And fair enough. It’s none of our damn business. Also, she’s talked extensively about how women are not just men’s girlfriends and her feminist take on many things and how it doesn’t feel nice to know that people are more interested in her love life than her work. She’s worked freaking hard to achieve the success she’s now enjoying, and she certainly should not be reduced to a woman in a relationship. No matter who is on the other end of that relationship.

(Again here, I feel the need to acknowledge my hypocrisy in writing this, but I really do genuinely love Nic’s work and spirit and activism, etc. as well.)

So, in light of her position on all of that, we wouldn’t expect her to go public with a new love interest. The fact that she was papped with this guy (if indeed he was a love interest) was just an indication of how much her celebrity and profile have grown. There’s greater interest now and she’s more recognizable now, so it’s to be expected that she’d have a harder time keeping her love life private now than in the past. Not so strange then, that she got caught a couple times in paparazzi photos at this point.

However, would she really then go public with that guy? That would mark a radical change in her behavior just when you’d think she’d want to be the most private because the glare of the spotlight is brighter than ever. Still, she allowed a public photo with him, Camilla, and Evan Ross Katz to go out shortly thereafter. If one believed they were dating, that could certainly be interpreted as a launch. Yet, as I said, would she really do that if she were dating him?

Then he started popping up everywhere. I won’t get the chronology here right because I don’t want to research the dates right now, but there was the Charlie xcx concert, in which she appeared with Jake and Dylan, who is out and proud. The Queer premiere where he was just caught in the background of a fan photo. The simultaneously released photos from the red and gold restaurant (with a mysterious third person taking the photos). There was the apparently brunch-time photo of her with Jake and two others, taken by Dylan. And most recently, Louisa’s photo with Jake and Douglas (who is also openly gay and close friends, if not more, with Jake).

I’m not mentioning all the players in all of these because it’s not critical to the story, and I may be forgetting some photos, but there is a point to all of this. First, there’s potentially a notable shift in what she’s allowing to be shared here. Again, historically, she’s never shared anything about her love life. Suddenly, she’s letting him be photographed everywhere. Also, at most of these events, there were other queer participants and/or queer content (the movie premiere).

And while she’s never allowed her romantic life to be shared, you know what she has often shared? Photos with all of her platonic friends, including her huge friend group of many, many gay men. So this trend in what she’s allowing to be shared suggests that she’s telling a story and clarifying Jake’s role in her life.

But then there’s that one mystery release, the simultaneously timed restaurant photo drops. Clearly coordinated, clearly indicating they were there together. No indication about the third party. Why? Just enough to hint that there might be something going on, and to continue wreaking havoc in the fandom.

Because remember that toxic fandom bickering over all of this? The jakolas swearing they’re in love and soon to be engaged and furious at the lukolas for “being blind and refusing to accept the truth and it’s so disrespectful to Nic ('who you claim to love') by disregarding her feelings and treating the love of her life so badly. They keep showing you they’re in love and you won’t listen!” Etc., etc.

Meanwhile, the lukolas fall into a couple camps. By this point, most have decided Nic and Jake aren’t dating, but some remain circumspect. Some scream back at the jakolas, ostensibly in defense of Jake, saying very similar things about “Jake and his friends are doing everything in their power to show you the truth and you refuse to see it.” And a variety of other responses. Everyone’s mad at everyone.

And all of it, every bit of it, keeps us ALL talking about Nicola Coughlan and Luke Newton. Nonstop, every day.

Now, we are nearing the big mic drop of all of this, and I want to say at this point that we need to remember that Nic and Luke are HUMAN BEINGS who have a right to privacy. And they are celebrities living in a world that has an intense interest in their love lives. And sometimes, we might not feel good about the measures they must take to protect their privacy. We might hate those measures. We might feel manipulated, and we are. But if we love and respect them as much as I hope we all do, we can also understand and forgive them for taking such measures.

A quick review of important factors in all of this:

THINGS THAT TELL US IT’S REAL

The Galway trip and that very emotional introduction to Nic’s mom, which looked for all the world like a woman meeting her future son-in-law

The Claddagh ring and how she’s been wearing it

The things reporters, cast, and crew have said in passing and/or posted, not to mention recent open shipping from Ryan Wheeler and Shondaland’s IG

Everything we saw with our own eyes on the world tour, not to mention everything we’ve seen in the BTS

Little droplets of NicLuke over the recent months like Bless the Telephone and (not yet mentioned above) the S4 selfie and the photo of them in costume that Nic said she thought she’d shared, but now it’s ours (while she hasn’t posted any Jake)

The absolute consistency of all of this as a story that makes sense

THINGS THAT MAKE US DOUBT IT’S REAL AND/OR KEEP US GUESSING AND DISCUSSING

The premiere night pap photos (and though I didn’t mention it earlier, the fact that Nic went home that night so she wasn’t around for A’s attendance)

The friend group photos at Soho House with Luke, A and others

The weird LA InStyle photos

The Sorrento swimming photos

The multiple sets of pap photos of Nic and Jake, including grainy night-time neighborhood photos (with a woman walking a dog in the background)

The way every gossip news outlet ran the same “Nicola confirmed her relationship” story with the same headline and the same anonymous quote

The weirdly devoted, intensely defensive jakolas/Jake stans that seem to care about nothing but Jake/jakola out of nowhere and love screaming at and stirring up shit with lukolas

The chaos and constant discussion of all of this over the past 6+ months

The absolute inconsistency of any of this with anything in the top group

So, this mystery just gets deeper and deeper, and none of it makes sense. Every time I’d try to accept that they were just seeing these other people, something would bump in my head. There were just too many weird things that didn’t quite make sense and the biggest, weirdest one of them all was that NICOLA AND LUKE ARE CLEARLY IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER.

So while the pieces would always almost fit, the puzzle never quite took shape. Until two nights ago when I stumbled on @lukolafan ’s page after they liked one of my posts. I scrolled down their page and found a link labeled “Lukola PR Strategies and Fake Narratives.” I cannot scream this loudly enough. GO VISIT THAT LINK!!!!! (I’ll add the links myself later if I have time.)

I did and it led to a series of Reddit posts taking an academic approach to teaching us, the general public (and lukola fans) PR Media Literacy. Among the various topics it discussed were things like:

“PR Firms and Entertainment Media: Coordinating “News” Across Gossip, Entertainment, and Official Publications,” which talks about using anonymous sources, more about staged paparazzi, and repeated narratives (“outlets echo identical stories, reinforcing PR-approved messaging, for example, multiple outlets platforms describing a celebrity ‘rising above’ a controversy, quoting the same anonymous insider” – Sound familiar?)

“The Invisible Hand of Celebrity Privacy: How PR Fabricates Narratives and Manipulates Fans,” which includes ways that PR strategies intentionally manipulate fans to fight/debate celebs faking relationships, and more (sound familiar?)

There’s honestly so much meat in all of these (there are a couple others as well) that they are ALL worth reading. There is definitely some repetition, but still, the content is super insightful and revealing and can help us all be more savvy consumers of media.

But I want to focus on two CRITICAL posts, in particular.

“The Role of Staged Paparazzi and Gossip Outlets in Celebrity PR Campaigns”

The first part of this piece talks about the method for staging fake paparazzi photos to create narratives. Two items of particular note (and I’m excerpting directly):

Quality Control of the Image: While professional photographers use high-quality cameras, staged paparazzi photos are intentionally manipulated to appear grainy or blurry. This adds a layer of authenticity to the photo, making it look as though the photographer stumbled upon the celebrity by chance.

Extra Figures in the Background: Another key tactic in staged paparazzi photos involves the use of background extras—people who might be walking with dogs, pushing strollers, or simply in the vicinity.

Think of Nicola’s photos walking home with Jake, a woman walking a dog behind them. Some of them are clear, but some are quite grainy, despite the fact that professional photographers have great equipment and are more than capable of taking a night-time shot.

Another excerpt…

Gossip Outlets: DeuxMoi and the Symbiotic Relationship with PR Firms

With the rise of user-generated content and anonymously submitted tips, gossip websites have become integral to the modern celebrity PR machine. Sites like DeuxMoi thrive on rumors and speculation, providing a platform for fans and anonymous sources to share celebrity gossip. PR teams exploit these platforms to feed their desired narratives without appearing to directly control the flow of information.

How Gossip Sites Like DeuxMoi Work:

Anonymous Tips and Leaks: PR teams often send anonymous tips to gossip outlets, offering details about celebrity activities or sightings. These tips are deliberately vague, leaving room for interpretation and speculation. Once posted on sites like DeuxMoi, the stories tend to snowball as they are shared across social media and republished by larger outlets.

Fueling Speculation: These posts generate buzz and speculation, keeping celebrities in the public eye without any direct confirmation. Gossip sites become a key player in amplifying the narrative, as fans, influencers, and media outlets continue to discuss and spread the information.

Mutual Benefits: While gossip sites operate independently, there is a mutual benefit to the relationship between them and PR teams. Gossip sites thrive on traffic and engagement, while PR teams can ensure their client’s name stays relevant in the public discourse. By subtly feeding stories, PR teams maintain control over how their celebrity’s narrative unfolds.

The piece goes on to give specific examples like Kendall Jenner and Bad Bunny, Tomdaya, Gigi Hadad and Zayne Malik, etc. then talks about fake fan interactions and how to spot them.

It offers key questions to ask about the photos you see (like what story is it telling and why and who benefits?) and then it gives this example. If your ears aren’t already fully perked, this will do it:

Example: 37-Year-Old Famous Actress and 24-Year-Old Lesser-Known Celebrity

Narrative of Romance or Distraction: In this case, the 37-year-old actress is likely fueling rumors of a relationship with the 24-year-old to either distract from something else in her personal life (like a real romantic partner) or to refresh her public image. The younger celebrity could be hired to play a temporary love interest or interest figure in the media, leading people to speculate whether they are more than just friends.

Creating a Romance or Mystery: The photo of them walking arm-in-arm, laughing, or holding hands might suggest that a romantic connection exists. This could be used to make the actress seem more relatable, desirable, or single, even if there is no romantic involvement behind the scenes.

Diverting Public Focus: If the actress is privately in a relationship with another celebrity or involved in an ongoing controversy, the staged photo with the younger celebrity helps to deflect attention. By inserting a "mystery romance," the public is more interested in who the new partner is, leaving the actress’s real partner or issues to stay out of the spotlight.

PR Stunt to Revitalize Publicity: The actress might not just be looking for romantic gossip but also fresh exposure. A curated paparazzi shot could serve as a PR tool to keep the actress's name in circulation—be it through romantic rumors, new partnerships, or simply new media content to fuel speculation.

Potential Body Double for Real Partner: If the real partner is shying away from the public eye or trying to avoid the media, the younger celebrity might act as a "body double" or decoy. This helps maintain an image of the actress being in a public relationship, while allowing her to keep the real relationship.

Don’t think I need to explain the relevance of this very specific example. There’s a lot more in the post, but I’ll move on for now to the next key post.

“Breadcrumbing and Coordinated Campaigns”

In this piece, they offer first some key breadcrumbing tactics, many of which sound awfully familiar.

Common Types of Breadcrumbs:

Cryptic Social Media Posts: Celebrities post vague messages or abstract references, sparking fan theories. Example: Harry Styles posts cryptic images or quotes, prompting speculation.

Coordinated Social Media Timing: PR teams synchronize posts to create the illusion of a shared narrative. Example: Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss posted similar content at the same time, fueling relationship rumors.

Accidental Social Media Interactions: Liking posts or commenting on ambiguous tweets creates intimacy and speculation. Example: Kendall Jenner engages with fans on social media, fueling rumors.

Seemingly Innocent Photos: Casual photos subtly hint at a larger narrative. Example: Zendaya and Tom Holland posted photos together, teasing their relationship.

Cryptic? Like Bless the Telephone? Or a mysterious left-handed guy holding a phone in the background while Nic gets ready?

Synchronized like Nic and Jake at that restaurant? Or as far as that goes, like Nic and Luke with the S4 selfie?

Accidental social media interactions? I didn’t go into that here, but we’ve seen lots of odd likes and things, lots of Nic interactions, oh, and those RW and SL likes of late.

Seemingly innocent photos. Like very happy looking S4 pics and the “now it’s yours” BTS photo?

Perhaps most of this could be interpreted as just genuine fan interaction and fan service, which I think it is to some extent. It’s a natural part of the business. But it’s also very often done with intention.

But here’s the more important part of this piece. It gives some case studies (Ben and JLo, Shawn and Camila), then it gives two “abstract” examples.

YOU’LL LOVE THIS. Note that the second example changes to an actor and a musician, but don’t let that fool you. Keep reading for some unmistakable specifics.

Breadcrumbing with a Fake PR Girlfriend: Case Study of Celebrity 007

For Celebrity 007, breadcrumbing is used to create a false narrative about a relationship with a PR girlfriend. This helps maintain fan interest while deflecting attention from the celebrity’s true personal life.

How It Works:

First Breadcrumbs: The PR strategy begins with posts from both the celebrity and the PR girlfriend, hinting at a connection without confirming it. Example: Celebrity 007 posts a picture from a Paris restaurant or cafe in LA and the PR girlfriend shares a similar post from the same location but from a different day with different white trucks in the background (double check the Instyle Stunt images!!!)

Expanding the Narrative: Shared travel posts and indirect interactions continue the illusion of a relationship. Example: Matching geo-tags in posts from Rome suggest they were there together.

Indirect Engagement: Likes, comments, and ambiguous interactions increase intrigue without confirming the relationship. Example: The PR girlfriend comments, “Great to be here with you! 💖,” on Celebrity 007's post.

Paparazzi Shots: Carefully timed candid shots further reinforce the illusion of a relationship. Example: Paparazzi photos of Celebrity 007 and the PR girlfriend walking hand-in-hand, fueling speculation.

Note:

Café in LA, same location, different trucks?

Matching tags in Rome?

Likes and ambiguous interactions

Carefully timed (say at a premiere party) candid paparazzi shops w gf walking hand-in-hand

And then there’s the next one. In the interest of length since this is already hella long, I’ve removed some less relevant parts, but I encourage you to read it yourself.

Breadcrumbing to Hide a Real Relationship: Case Study of Celebrity 009

Why Hide the True Relationship?

In celebrity culture, the decision to keep a relationship private—or hidden—can be a strategic move, driven by a mix of personal privacy and professional interests. Some celebrities may choose to share their personal lives openly, but for others, particularly those who value their privacy or wish to control their public image, keeping a relationship private is key. This is especially relevant for two celebrities who are romantically involved but prefer to maintain discretion, despite public curiosity about their relationship.

Whether it’s a high-profile couple like Beyoncé and Jay-Z, or a less conspicuous pairing, the decision to hide the true nature of a romantic relationship often involves balancing personal desires with career strategy. In this scenario, let’s explore why two celebrities might choose to keep their relationship under wraps and the complex PR considerations that lead them to do so.

Media Scrutiny/Escaping Constant Surveillance: Navigating the Spotlight Together (I’ve combined two sections here for length)

When two celebrities become romantically involved, the media will inevitably take notice. The relationship can quickly become the focal point of constant headlines, paparazzi photos, and gossip columns. For celebrities who value their privacy, this level of scrutiny can feel overwhelming, as every public appearance or moment shared can quickly turn into speculation, even if the couple doesn’t wish to attract attention.

Romanticized Expectations: The Pressure of Perfection

Media scrutiny often creates an unrealistic, romanticized version of a celebrity relationship. Fans and the public tend to project their fantasies onto famous couples, imagining them as the perfect, unbreakable pairing. The real complexities of a relationship—differences, compromises, and struggles—often don't fit neatly into the idealized narratives created by the public.

For a couple like Actor A and Musician B, the pressure to live up to these idealized expectations can be exhausting. By choosing to keep their relationship private, they can avoid the constant pressure to fit into a preconceived mold. Hiding the relationship from public view allows them to keep things grounded and avoid being turned into a media spectacle.

Brand Control: Managing the Image of "Singleness" or "Availability"

For many celebrities, their public image is closely tied to their brand, and that brand may depend on their perceived "availability" or their status as desirable, unattached individuals. The way the public perceives a celebrity’s romantic life—whether they are single, dating, or in a long-term relationship—can have a significant impact on their professional success and marketability.

Creating Room for Desire: The Allure of the Single Celebrity

Consider Actor A, a leading man known for portraying romantic heroes on screen. The public’s perception of Actor A as a single, unattainable figure is key to their marketability, both in the media and as a brand. If they were to publicly reveal a relationship with Musician B, it could diminish that aura of unattainability. Similarly, Musician B may want to maintain a flirtatious public persona, which could be undermined if they were publicly involved with someone. By keeping the relationship private, both celebrities retain the allure of being desirable and unattached, feeding into the fantasies of their fans.

Avoiding the "Couple" Brand: Risk of Being Reduced to a Package Deal

When a high-profile couple’s relationship is made public, they may become known less for their individual work and more for their collective identity as a couple. In some cases, the couple's public appearances or shared brand messages may overshadow their individual projects. Think of Beyoncé and Jay-Z, who have an incredibly powerful couple brand that often eclipses their solo endeavors in the media. For celebrities like Actor A and Musician B, the fear of being seen as a "package deal" might drive them to hide their relationship. This allows both to maintain their distinct identities, keeping their projects and brands separate and preventing the public from viewing them solely as a pair.

Respecting Boundaries: The Vulnerability of Celebrity Relationships

Even when two celebrities are involved, the vulnerabilities of a relationship can become the focus of media attention if they go public. Romantic relationships—especially those in the high-pressure world of celebrity—are often fraught with ups and downs. The public might demand to know every detail, fueling rumors of breakups, infidelities, or relationship drama. By keeping their romance under wraps, Actor A and Musician B can avoid becoming the subject of constant gossip and can maintain some semblance of normalcy in their private lives.

Avoiding Disruptive Publicity

Celebrity relationships often attract media scrutiny not only about their romantic lives but also about how their relationship affects their careers. The public and the media often delve into the smallest details, speculating about how the relationship might impact their professional trajectories, previous relationships, or future projects.

Career Disruption: The Challenge of Balancing Love and Work

For celebrities like Musician B, a new relationship can take attention away from their upcoming album release or concert tour. The media’s obsession with their personal life might overshadow the launch of a new professional project. Similarly, if Actor A is in the middle of promoting a film or preparing for a big role, the press could focus more on their relationship than their craft, disrupting the flow of their work.

I won’t bother reviewing the relevance of all of the above. I’m sure you can see it plainly for yourself. The examples are absolutely, positively referencing Nicola and Luke, and the reasons for hiding it are super relevant. Especially boundaries, disruption, pressure to be perfect, and being reduced to a package deal.

Now at this point, it’s worth asking the question, do we trust this source? I don’t actually know who posted this content, so I can’t verify their credentials. Perhaps this is yet another PR person’s tricky efforts to continually confuse us and keep us guessing? That seems unlikely since the entire purpose is to help lift the veil on all the other tricks. If you wanted the other tricks to be effective, you’d hardly be revealing them to your target audiences.

But even setting that very logical assumption aside, the reason I know with every fiber of my being that it’s true is that this is literally the only version of events that makes sense of absolutely everything.

All those mysterious and confusing signals, all those weird photos and changes in behavior, all the inconsistencies between what we all saw with our own eyes (they are IN LOVE) and what we saw subsequently with the adjacents, all the tiny Lukola crumbs keeping us hanging on, and all the fandom bickering, especially from bizarrely rabid jakolas.

Every bit of it makes complete sense if we accept that Nic, Luke, and their PR teams have been using a classic PR handbook to distract us from the very real truth that they are together and in love.

Does it hurt to know we’ve been manipulated? You bet it does! But I quickly accepted that because I was so happy to have the truth verified at last. And because I understand why they would do it.

Relationships are hard enough when lived in private. No relationship, no matter how much people love each other, is without challenge. Even soulmates have issues to navigate. Can you imagine the pressure on them if the whole world was watching?

And their lives have added challenges. Travel and separation. Long work schedules that may often be at odds. Possibly romantic scenes with future co-stars that could stir up uncomfortable feelings. Career ups and downs that may not always synch up. Fans and media watching their every move, dissecting them, judging them, rooting for them, and just putting massive pressure on them. What if they fail? They’re letting down the whole world, not just themselves.

And what about Nic’s longstanding demand for privacy? And her emphasis that no woman is just some dude’s girlfriend. She wants to be known for her own work and achievement and passions, not for who she dates or marries. Even if it is wonderful Luke.

Likewise, Luke is just now achieving a newfound level of success. This is a moment for him to seize and make the most of. Being a hot, sexy, ostensibly single guy is good for his brand right now. Even if we know he loves Nicola, his stans need to be able to fantasize about him, which is easier if his relationship is unconfirmed.

And let’s face it, if they come out as a couple, IT WILL BE LUKOLA all the time. That will be the story. Certainly if they’d come out during the World Tour, every question at every stop would be about them and their personal “friends to lovers story.” It would be irresistible to reporters. Too good a story to ignore. And they’d spend way more time talking about their personal lives than about their work. Does that sound like something either of them would want?

And one last thing. Back to their changes in behavior. Does it make more sense that Nicola, who has always been super private about her love life, would suddenly be willing to be photographed constantly with her new bf Jake? Or that Jake is not her bf and she’s keeping her actual bf (or fiancé or husband) secret?

Meanwhile, Luke, who has always been open about his relationships in the past suddenly decides to tighten up and share absolutely nothing about his private life? Well, that makes complete sense if he’s now in a relationship with a woman who is famously private and shares not one word publicly. Suddenly, literally everything makes sense and is entirely consistent.

So there it is, folks. To me, this is the Holy Grail. There’s not a doubt left in my mind about them. They’re together and everything else – literally everything else – is a decoy and a distraction, and every bit of it comes straight from the PR playbook.

I’d like to maintain a sliver of hope that they’re leaving much of it to their teams and they’re not in on the worst of it, but in any case, I don’t blame them one bit for trying to protect their love. It’s too special to let it be destroyed by public consumption. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Given that I don’t actually know them and haven’t confirmed anything directly, I’ll leave 1.5% room for doubt, and adjust my certainty to 98.5%.

And you may dismiss all of this and draw very different conclusions, which is okay, too. But if I’m being really honest, I’m actually 1,000% sure. And I couldn’t be happier for them.

What do we do now? That’s up to each of us. Personally, I’m going to be blissfully happy for them, not sweat any of the distractions, let them live as quietly as they like, and patiently await the day (whether it’s very soon or far in the future) when they finally go public. I hope you’ll do the same.

And until then, I’m going to keep watching Lukola videos on repeat.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Silk Ribbons

maegor x niece!reader

Summary: Maegor crashes Aenys name day tournament which turns into more blood. He shows up unannounced to the feast where he gives all of his attention to Y/n before taking her back to Dragonstone.

Warnings: 18+ death, blood, blades, swearing, wine, bondage, oral (f receiving), p in v, it’s a maegor the cruel fic like wtf else can i say

Authors Note: this was a request from my bestie 🫣😮‍💨, pls i’ve never really read maegor ff so i hope i did him justice

Word Count: 4.2k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Servants rush around the Red Keep trying to get everything in order for the feast being held later this evening in celebration of my father’s name day. I’m whisked out of the castle followed by guards who escort me to my carriage. There’s three raps on the wood before we jolt forward venturing into the city.

My father insisted I come to the tourney even though I personally have no taste for it. Instead, I would have been content to host a great ball that lasted days. I sigh and look out the window watching the common folk slowly make their way to the tourney grounds. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what all these people see in such brazen acts of violence, and in the name of my father of all people.

The carriage slows as we push through the tourney grounds opening gates. We come to a stop near the entrance and my door opens. My guard escorts me through the doors and up the stairs to find my seat.

“Come, you’ll sit in front of me and your father.” my mother waves her hand to me.

I sigh as I make my way to the front row of chairs. I know these are the best seats but I have no idea why my parents would think I would want them. I look across the arena and see the seats quickly filling up. My father pats my shoulder on his arrival as he places his hands on the rails to begin making the opening announcement.

“Welcome and thank you all for joining the celebrations for my name day. Good luck to the brave knights, may you fight and win with honor!” my fathers raises his hands and the crowd begins to erupt.

As my father makes his way back to my mother the first two knights are called to the sands. After I hear him sigh and take his seat I allow myself to look off into the clouds and daydream. I lean back in my chair and to anyone else I look as if I’m enjoying the fight but instead I’m dreaming of flying through the clouds on dragonback.

The duels continue as I let my mind drift away. The clashes of swords are turned into dragon songs and the shouts form commands. The announcer calls two new knights to the sands and the crowd goes hushed as a third knight enters the sands.

“Is he mad for coming here?” my fathers voice breaks through as he speaks to his guard.

I shake my head and scan the sands in front of me. The only thing that seems to be happening is the announcer speaking to the third knight. I tilt my head studying them as my father hushes his quick words to the guard. I gasp and grab my chest as the knight strikes the announcer in the face, who falls to the sand not getting up. Guards rush to the announcer as the knight stalks over to us.

“Brother,” the knights deep voice carries up to us. “I will have a place at this tournament.” he points his sword up to the box.

“Go back to Dragonstone, Maegor.” my father calls down to him.

I scoot up to the edge of my seat to try and look upon my uncle. I haven’t seen him in ages but it seems if his temperament hasn’t changed. I lean forward and peek over the rails at him as he rips his helmet off and throws it up at my father. My father ducks barely escaping the flying metal but trips over me in the process.

“Guards, get Y/n out of here.” my father fumes as he rises once more.

I’m pulled up by my arms and I quickly turn to look down at Maegor before they hide me away. Our eyes lock on one another quickly before the guard harshly pulls my arm, jerking my body. Maegors eyes narrow on the guard who’s currently tugging me away from him.

“You let that man handle her like that?” Maegors voice rumbles against the walls.

The guard pulls me down the stairs and we hear continued shouts coming from the hall. Loud footsteps stomp down the stairs and the guard begins to pull me away even faster. I sigh in relief as my carriage makes its way into my sight and I practically sprint to it. The guards hand loosens as hear a slash of metal through bone.

For a moment my breathing stops as I think I’ve been struck as I felt the shutter of the blade. My eyes widen as I turn and take in the scene. Maegor is standing there holding Blackfyre with the guards blood dripping off of it. I look down to my arm as the guards dismembered arm falls to the ground. My eyes then travel to the guard who is on the ground in a state of panic and shock before he goes completely still.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Maegor sheaths his sword, looking to the body at his feet with disgust.

“Uncle,” my voice trembles as steps over the guard and comes to tower over me.

“You’ve become so beautiful, Y/n.” he brings fingers to ghost over my cheek.

My breathing intensifies at his gentle touch after he showed such violence. My eyes dart to the body behind him and he grabs my chin and forces me to look to him. His smile borderline predatory as he begins to lean down. My eyes go wide the closer his mouth comes to mine until he turns his head quickly to whisper something into my ear.

“Maegor you bull, what have you done?” my fathers voice booms behind us as he looks in horror at the guard.

“Did you not see the way your own guard was pulling her. She’ll have bruises come morning. Is this how a Princess should be treated?” he turns to my father tilting his head.

“Please do not use my daughter as an excuse for your wanton brutality.” my father storms over to him.

“Aenys, you don’t want this fight.” Maegors hands go to my father’s shoulders.

I don’t know what leads me to do it, but I place my hand on Maegors arm. He turns and looks down to me curiously as he allows me to remove his hands from my father. I turn to my father who looks from where my hand is placed on Maegor to me.

“Daughter, step away from him.” my father warns.

My hand slips from his armor as I slowly step back to my carriage. Maegor watches every step I take as my father watches him. I slip into the carriage and shut the doors behind me. I sigh out in relief and slide down into my pillowed seats.

The carriage begins to move and I look out my window to see Maegor watching as I’m pulled back through the city. I begin to fan myself off hoping the adrenaline will start to wash away. I find myself blushing at his words of calling me beautiful even though I shouldn’t. I’ve always secretly wished he would see me in that light instead of a child. His temper terrifies me, but Gods he is so handsome.

Once we make it through the gates of the Red Keep I’m escorted directly to my chambers. I huff claiming a chair not wanting to be sequestered here all day. After an hour I pick up a book to hopefully lose myself to another world until the feast begins.

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“Princess,” my mother’s soft voice lulls me out of my nap.

“No, did I miss the feast?” I quickly rise from the chair in a panic.

“I’ve come to check on you and to see if you still wanted to attend after today’s events.” she grabs my hand to rub soothing circles on it.

“Of course I want to go to the feast. They have been making my gown for almost a full moon.” I whine.

“I figured as much.” she chuckles as she goes to the doors to allow my handmaidens flood in.

I’m quickly stripped of my dress and lead over to the bath. Lavish oils and soaps are brought out and I hum in relaxation as I’m pampered to. My hair begins to be brushed and secured out of my face by a pale pink ribbon. I rise out of the tub when the water turns tepid and begin to dry off. I’m offered a new slip that seems to be made of the same silk as my ribbon.

I gasp as my gown is brought in for me to finally look upon. The gown is white but with all of the beading it looks as if it’s the soft pink of a morning sunrise. It fits closer to my body than I had originally thought but when looking in the mirror I admire it even more. The beads fade into crystals that flow up the neckline. They offer me a close fitting crystal necklace that brings out the rest of the details in the gown. After they place my earrings I’m guided out of my chambers and down to the dining hall.

“You look absolutely lovely.” my mother smiles as I join her on the dias.

“They outdid themselves with this gown.” I look down to admire it.

I take a sip of wine and take in the life and merriment around me. I look down to my father who seems happy enough but I can still see the lingering frustration. Servants come out and fill our plates once everyone has found their seats. The doors to the hall groan open and my father’s face turns red as Maegor saunters in.

“May I sit next to you, Y/n.” Maegor licks his lips looking down at me.

I nod my head as he pulls the chair out loudly next to me. Servants rush to fill his cup with wine as he continues to look at me. I feel my cheeks heat and I quickly turn back to my plate. I can feel my father’s eyes on me but I don’t have the courage to look anywhere besides my plate.

“You look ravishing in this dress.” Maegor purrs lowly.

“Thank you,” I murmur willing my cheeks not to tint as I take a sip of wine.

“Will you let me take it off of you later?” I cough at his low his words.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” my fathers voice laced with worry at my sudden coughing fit.

“Yes,” I nod clearing my throat attempted to offer him a smile.

My father huffs as we return to our meal. It seems as if the whole hall is blind to the tension radiating from our table. Laughter and toasts are shouted across the hall and all I can think of is Maegor who has slowly been inching his chair closer to mine. I try to ignore his closeness until his thigh is pressed against mine.

“Is there something you needed?” I turn and blink up at him.

“You,” his voice low as he looks down at me with dark eyes.

“Maegor-“

“Come, let’s dance.” he rises above me and offers me his hand and I can see my father turn to us with a scrunched brow.

I place my hand in his palm as his fingers engulf mine. He pulls me down to dance as a new song begins. He pulls me flush against his body and I squeak in surprise. His hand continues to hold mine while his other goes firmly to my lower back. My hand rises to his chest as I look up to him.

He holds me possessively as he stares down any man who looks too closely. My eyes land on my father who is currently seething next to my mother who looks worried. I squirm in Maegors arms as his fingers trail up my spine and bury themselves into my hair. He tilts my head so I’m looking up at him as a smirk spreads across his face.

“You’re going to ruin my hair.” I whine breathlessly.

“Apologies,” he chuckles as his hand slides down to rest on my neck.

We continue to sway to the music and I allow my hand to travel across the expanse of muscle that is his chest. I can feel the dips and definitions through his doublet and can’t begin to imagine what they look like in all their glory. I feel his laugh rumble in his chest before I hear it. I tilt my head as I look up to him.

“Do you enjoy my muscles?” he smiles down at me.

“You’re just so strong.” I whisper as I squeeze his bicep allowing my hands to travel the muscle hidden beneath his sleeves shamelessly.

I gasp as he lifts me into the air as my hands wrap around his neck. He begins to walk towards the main doors while I look over his shoulder and see my father shoot to his feet. He looks to us in confusion and doubt until he sees our path is to exit. He shouts to the guards but it’s too late. I can’t help the excitement and adrenaline that flows through me.

He gets us out of the Keep through a back way I’ve never seen or heard of. Before I know it he’s pulling us on a horse and racing us to the outskirts of the city. I feel the low grumbling of the ground before my feet even touch it as Maegor lifts me back to the ground. My breath escapes me as I behold Balerion.

“Maegor,” I look to him with wide eyes.

“You’ll always be safe when you’re with me.” his words are soft as he begins ushering me over to the rope to climb his massive dragon.

He climbs directly behind of me which offers me some semblance of comfort. As I reach the saddle my head spins as I look down. Maegor settles behind me and quickly grabs the reins. Balerion rises to his full height as I tremble in his arms. He begins to break into a run as we start to take flight.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

We are soon circling Dragonstone as Balerion lets out a fearsome growl. As he descends on the rocky shore some of them begin shaking in his presence. Once we settle I soon realize he wasn’t just shaking the ground, he was waking Vhagar. Gods these dragons make the Red Keep look like a cottage.

Once we make it to the sands he grabs my hand and we begin our walk into the castle. As we make it to the main doors I begin to make out the image of Visenya. She smiles to me but glares to Maegor.

“What have you done, you fool?” she looks to him.

“Found a bride. You told me I should marry and secure my line.” he shrugs as I gape at him.

“It seems as if this is the first time your bride is hearing of this.” he replies curtly.

“Well I planned to woo her with my tongue for a couple of hours before I asked.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck.

“Must you be so foul?” Visenya scoffs at him. “What is your plan for when Aenys comes to get her?” he raises her eyebrows.

“He’d be a fool to face me. We will be wed on the morrow. He can’t take my wife away from me.” he pulls me closer to his side.

My head is spinning with this discussion. I feel as if I don’t have a say in the matter but I’m not upset at the outcome. I worry for what my father and mother will think but they’ve been asking me to marry for years. I shake my head trying to bring myself back to the present as Maegor begins pulling me into the castle.

He rushes us up the stairs and seals us behind a set of double doors. He turns and stalks over to me grabbing at my waist and pulling me to him. He looks down to me as his hands move to the back of my gown.

“Do not rip this gown Maegor. It took almost a moon to make.” I try to make my voice sound firm.

“Mm,” his fingers begin to slowly unlace the back of my gown.

His fingers ghost along my back as he loosens the gown. He steps back and pushes the gown down my shoulders causing it to pool around my feet. I’m left in my silk slip and I begin to feel as if I’m left in nothing by the way he’s looking at me. One of his hands goes to my hair and pulls the ribbon out causing my hair to cascade down my back.

“Do you always match your hair piece with your slip?” he asks lowly as he trails the ribbon along my arm.

I shake my head not trusting my words as I shiver under his touch. His hand travels back down to my waist and splays across my bare thigh. I look up to him with low lids as his hand begins to move to my inner thighs. I grab on tightly to his arm as he trails a finger along my slit. My breaths come out in pants as he continues his journey through my wetness.

“On the bed.” he looks down to me as he removes his hands.

I compose myself enough to turn and walk to the bed. I crawl to the middle of the bed and lay on my back as he begins to crawl over me. His hand trails up my body with my ribbon following. He dips down and when I think he’s finally about to kiss me he whispers into my ear.

“Hands above your head.” I whimper at his words and do as I’m told.

He brings my ribbon up to my wrists and secures them to the headboard before he rises above me. He looks at me with a sinister smirk and I clench my thighs in anticipation. He hums as he looks at me completely at his will. He stalks around the bed looking at me before he settles next to me.

His hands trail up my bare leg as he lifts my slip with his hands and bunches it up above my breasts. He groans as he takes in my body and his hands begin to travel over every inch of skin. My eyes shut as his hands continue to snake around my body pulling soft whines from me.

“Maegor,” his name falls from my mouth as he pinches one of my nipples between his rough fingers.

“Mm, you like a little pain?” he coos as his other hand cups my other breast roughly.

A moan tears through me as I squeeze my legs shut. He chuckles lowly as I begin to feel his beard across my chest as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. My chest arches up into his mouth as his teeth tease my sensitive bud.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun.” he says arrogantly as he blows on my nipple.

He trails sloppy kisses down my torso and begins to pepper kisses along my hips. My hips jerk up as his tongue begins to dance on my hot skin. He spreads my thighs and groans as he’s greeted by my wet core. He dives down and his tongue begins to lap at my clit. My hands tug at the headboard causing it to groan as he chuckles into me.

My hips grind against his face seeking more pleasure until his hands land on my hips stilling me. He attacks my clit with his tongue as a moan tears through me as pleasure bursts through my body. He looks up to me from between my thighs licking his lips.

My chest is rapidly rising and falling between us and he dips back down to my sensitive core. He offers soft licks at my clit sending jolts through my body as he teases a finger at my entrance. He slowly pushes a thick finger into me ripping a moan from my lips.

“Maegor, please,” I whine as he slowly starts to pump his finger slowly.

His tongue swirls against my clit as his finger starts a fast rhythm. My thighs try to close around his head again but this time he ignores it as he focuses on my pleasure. As my whimpers fall faster he slowly starts to add a second finger. I cry out as I clench around his fingers and allow him to pull pleasure from my body.

His name is the only word that falls from my lips as I come undone around his fingers. He continues pumping into me as my legs quake around him. He pulls back and hoovers above me with a wet beard. My legs shut once he rises off the bed and I look to him with low lids.

“You will be my wife.” It is a statement as he pulls off his shirt.

“Yes,” I nod still trying to catch my breath as I drink in his bare chest and the muscles that he’s showing off.

“Say it.” he says lowly as he begins to unlace his trousers.

“I will be your wife.” my voice unwavering.

He pushes his trousers the rest of the way down and crawls above me on the bed. His hands spread open my thighs once more as he settles between them. I gasp as I feel him glide through my wetness. He dips down and I crane my neck hoping to finally kiss him. He smiles and pulls back much to my frustration.

“Maegor,” I whine.

“Yes?” he chuckles as he kisses across my chest and makes his way to my neck.

“Untie me, please, I want to touch you.” my voice needy as I arch my body into his.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he sucks on my neck as he slowly unties my wrists.

My hands fly to his bare skin caressing and feeling every muscle I can reach. His hips slowly rock into mine causing him to slide against my clit. My nails dig into his shoulder as he bites down onto my neck. He raises his head above mine and I move my hands to his neck to hopefully pull him down into a kiss.

The second his lips touch mine I melt into him completely. My fingers travel to his short locks as I pull him closer to me. Maegor groans as he slowly begins to push into me as a sigh falls from my lips. I’ve never felt this full before. He looks down at me with a furrowed brow and I can tell he’s holding back until I can fully adjust. Once it becomes tolerable I move my hips and he snaps his back into mine.

His pace is brutal that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Moans and whimpers fall from my lips as he pounds into me seeking pleasure. His lips find mine again and his tongue begins to lash against mine. He pulls back and looks at my face as his fingers begin to circle my clit.

“Maegor, Maegor please,” I sob as I come around him while he continues to push into me.

His lips crash to mine roughly as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His teeth catch my bottom lip as I cry out. My fingers claw at his arms for support as he continues to pull pleasure from me. His trusts become sloppy as his fingers make their way back to my clit again. My vision blurs as I explode around him once more. He settles deep in me as I feel him begin to fill me.

“So fucking good for me. My perfect Princess.” he grunts as he continues to grind his hips into mine.

“My husband,” my words barely audible as I continue to cling to him.

He flips us over remaining in me saying he wants to be as close as possible. My body and mind too tired, I simply let my eyes flutter shut as I drift off to sleep.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[puckinghischier]

Can your beautiful mind provide some domestic Christmas Quinn thoughts?

well…i have been thinking about how quinn is 100% one of those men that can’t wrap a present to save his life. so when you’re out doing some last minute shopping one day, he brings all of your presents out of their hiding spot and tries his best.

he starts out on his own, watching youtube videos and tutorials to try and make sure he measures the paper right and creases it properly. but when he ends up with several…wad-looking wrapping jobs he facetimes his mom, recruiting her as a wrapping coach.

“mom, i’ve tried so many times and i just can’t get it right. she’s told me before how much she loved wrapped presents, so i don’t want to just put them all in bags, but i don’t know if i’m going to have much of a choice at this point.”

ellen laughs at her son, pulling out her own wrapping supplies and tries to show him again. she talks him through the whole process, and when he finally wraps a present right, he’s beaming from ear to ear. she stays on the phone and coaches him through the rest of your presents as he thanks his mom over and over again for her help.

just as he’s placed the last one under the tree (the poorly wrapped ones shoved in the back) he hears the door open and in you walk with a hoard of shopping bags on each arm.

when you walk into the living room, eyes glued to the now full space under the tree, your eyes light up.

“quinn, did you wrap all of these?”

he walks over to you, taking some of the bags from your hands. “sure did. all by myself,” he beams at you.

“excuse me, your mother had a hand in this too. where’s my credit?”

you hear ellen’s voice flowing through the speaker of quinn’s phone, the device still propped up on the coffee table, surrounded by wrapping paper.

quinn’s face turns bright red, forgetting his mom was still on the phone. you look at his embarrassed state, endeared more than anything that he cared about wrapping your presents so much, he called his mom as a reinforcement.

“is that true?” he nods his head.

“well, yeah. i kinda botched the first few, and the youtube videos weren’t helping, so aside from taking them all to a store to have someone professionally wrap them for me, mom was my last shot,” he shrugged, embarrassed about the fact his lack of wrapping skills has been outed.

“q, that’s so sweet oh my god,” you gush at him, batting your eyes and bringing your hand to rest over your heart.

“really? you don’t think it’s embarrassing i don’t know how to wrap a present?”

you balk at him, rolling your eyes. “quinn, the fact you went through so much trouble to wrap them, instead of putting them in a bag like every other guy i’ve ever dated, is the sweetest thing ever. why would i care if they’re perfectly wrapped or not?”

“see, quinn! i told you she wouldn’t care if they were perfect!” you hear from his phone, both of you having now forgotten about ellen.

“yeah, quinn. listen to your mother,” you playfully scold him, walking past him so you’re in frame on his phone. “thanks, ellen. what ever would these boys do without you?” you joke with her, earning a laugh.

“oh, you know, probably bug you a lot more than they already do,” she jests back, referencing how often not only your own hughes boy calls you about needing help with finding things around the apartment, or needing you to tell him what the brand name is of that certain kind of protein powder is he likes, but how often his two brothers call you with their own questions and advice requests.

“alright, mom, thanks for your help and all, but i have all the presents wrapped and i need help her put all this stuff away now. i love you, bye,” quinn interrupts the laughter ringing out between you and his mom, picking up his phone and pressing the end call button.

“quinn, you did not just hang up on your mom,” you scold him, gasping at his actions.

“i’d had her on the phone for hours already it’s fine,” he brushes it off. “plus, i don’t think she’d want to witness what i’m about to do,” he walks towards you, pointing up to the mistletoe strung high above your head.

you look back down just as he reaches you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a very heated kiss.

dropping the bags in your hands, he walks the two of you over to the couch, all mention of gifts and wrapping forgotten.

[luveline]

That family holiday kbd was soo cute😭

Can we get a blurb about playing at the resort’s pool with Steve and the kids? 🫶🏻

kbd — the harrington’s go poolside !! mom!reader, 1.4k

“Can we hold hands?” Beth asks. 

You throw your hand out to her showfully. She giggles as she takes it, rejuvenated after a good night's sleep and a huge breakfast from the buffet. You and Steve are probably happier about her gorging than she is; it’s never a bad day when Bethie eats well. 

Steve holds a toddling Dove’s hand, leaning down to accommodate her tiny stature, while Avery walks just ahead. “It’s gonna be fun, bubby,” Steve’s saying, “I promise.” 

Dove’s been to the pool a couple of times, but never for long. Last time she’d been in Steve’s arms for the whole session, while you shepherded Beth, and Avery played water games with her Aunt Robin. You’re a little scared to be taking them now with just the two of you, but Steve reassured you that everyone would be perfectly safe in the kids pool under both your supervision and the lifeguards, and you tend to trust his judgement. 

You leave the hotel lobby and step out into the resort’s back, white concrete and bright green sections of grass cut by paths that lead down to the pools and water features. Steve shouts for Avery to stay close, your oldest girl gasping with excitement as you draw near the pool and families already swimming in the sun. Her flip-flops slap the ground. 

“Mom, it’s too sunny,” Bethie whines. 

“This is why we all have hats. Do you want a hat?” 

“No.” She frowns. “I can’t see.” 

“You can’t see?” you ask. “I might have something that can help. Let’s just get to some seats and I’ll show you.”  

There are rows of blue plastic chairs and sun loungers outfitted with tables near the kiddie pool, more further down toward the adult pool. Families have already set up in places, but there’s plenty of room for you, your family, and your huge baby bag. 

Steve hoists Dove onto a sun lounger. Avery next, though she stays standing, her excitement catching. A sprinkler shaped like a flower rains generous streams of water down onto a laughing little girl and her mother. Avery watches them over Steve’s shoulder. “Can we swim? Please, dad, I want to go under the sprinkler!”

“Yeah. Let’s take your nice dress off first, sweetheart, put your arms up. Up, up!” 

She holds up her arms for Steve to help her out of her dress. You and Beth take the sunlounger opposite, where she’s quick to climb into your lap, hiding her face from the sun. 

You knew Beth wouldn’t wear a hat. She hates them, just like she hates flip flops, sandals, and any shoes without socks. Luckily she’s fine to go barefoot from here —you begin to untie her laces. “I have something new for us to try. I think you’re gonna love it, but maybe you won’t, I don’t know.” 

“What is it?” 

You unzip the bag and pull out a round blue container. It clicks open, unveiling a toddler-sized pair of sunglasses made of a strange soft plastic. 

“You can match daddy,” you sing-song, attempting to entice her. “And keep your eyes away from the sun.” 

“Will they stay on when I swim?” she asks. 

“Maybe not, but I’ve got you goggles for swimming. Are you ready to swim? Or are we gonna sit here for a bit in the sun?” 

Avery jumps down off of the sunlounger. The skirt of her swimsuit bounces as she runs to you, hands vying for your bag. “Mom, I want goggles too.” 

“I got you some, don’t worry. Let daddy do it. He has to make them smaller on your head.”

Steve outfits Avery in her goggles, and takes Dove’s dress off to leave her in her swimsuit (or scuba suit). Beth doesn’t wanna swim yet, but you take her dress off and begin the long process of covering each child in SPF. 

“There,” you say, wiping a smudge of sunscreen from Avery’s arm down into her hand. “Tada! You’re now safe from the sun.” 

“I love the sun.” 

“I know, but the sun doesn’t love us. It gets too hot.” 

“That’s why we have to drink.” 

“Exactly, baby, exactly.” You frame her face with your hands. “Hey, you look beautiful today. You do! Look at your lovely smile, so pretty, better let me have a little kiss.” 

“Mommy,” she giggles. 

“Just a little one, Avey, just one–” You kiss her cheek twice, one near her nose and the other her ear, before pulling her in for a slightly slimy hug. The sun warms the back of your neck, and her shoulders are warm where your arms slide over them. 

“That was two,” Steve says. 

“You rat,” you say, grinning as he leans down to hug you from behind. 

“Better give me one to make it even,” he says in your ear.

“Don’t think that’s how it works.” 

He gives you a quick kiss. “Hey, Dove! Babe, where are you going?” 

“Swim!” 

“Guess we better get in,” he says, thumb in your shoulder and then suddenly gone as he chases your waddling barely-toddler before she can get too far away. 

“Ready, Beth?” you ask. 

“You’re coming in?” she asks you. 

“Yeah, I’m coming in,” you say, forcing a smile. 

You've had three babies. You know you don’t look like you did when you and Steve first met, don’t look like somebody you’d see on TV or in the background of a Madonna video. He sees you naked all the time and he’s never had any complaints (the opposite, always), but these people aren’t used to you. You have a doughy stomach and the baby weight sticks to your chest and thighs; you’re so worried you’ll be judged for how you look you start to resent yourself for not trying to fix it. 

You pull your dress over your head hesitantly. 

An immediate wolf whistle echoes from the poolside. 

Steve’s ankle deep in the kids shallows, his fingers still in his mouth, the other arm wrapped around Dove. The sun turns his hair a dirty blonde, his mild tan lightened. 

“Steve, don’t,” you scorn, immediately flustered at the attention it draws. 

“That’s my wife,” Steve says to Avery, unaffected. 

You grab Bethie, kiss her under the chin, and try to act like you aren’t embarrassed as you meet them in the water. 

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he says, grabbing for you, not quite reaching. 

The water’s cold. “Stop, Steve.” 

“You’re so beautiful, come here, I need a kiss.” 

“Stop.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. 

You hug Beth. “Maybe one more.” 

“Mom, you’re beautiful!” Avery shouts. 

“Yeah, mom, you’re beautiful,” Beth says. 

Steve smirks from over Dove’s head. “Took the words right out of my mouth.” 

You and Steve kneel in the pool. The water isn’t that deep at its deepest, and the girls can stand without being submerged. Avery and Bethie hold hands under the sprinkler flower to stop from either girl getting lost, while you and Steve watch with Dove held in his arms. “How’s that, Dovey? Are you having fun?” you ask saccharinely. 

Steve sighs. “You really are so, so beautiful.” 

“Daddy’s feeling silly,” you say to Dove, “he doesn’t get it.” 

“I get it.” 

“You don’t think people wonder what you’re doing with me?” you ask, mostly joking, ninety percent as you give your stomach a self-deprecating squeeze. “You look like you're still twenty-two.” 

“No I don’t. I used to have abs.” 

You push through the water to poke his lean stomach. “Feels solid to me,” you say. 

He laughs and pulls away from you. His eyes dart between you and the girls, softened with his laughing, “Get off of me, you rascal.” 

“Rascal?” 

You laugh worse. 

Steve’s predictable. He makes sure Dove is alright floating in the water with his one hand on her back before he leans across to kiss you, a wet hand to your collar, his lips persistent as he pecks you twice, three times. “Love you, pretty girl,” he says. 

You flush with heat from your face to your fingertips. That’s a rare one. “I love you too.” 

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Thirteen: [Panic Room]

Summary: Jakes darkest fears come to fruition when surgery doesn’t go as planned and the months to come bring a new reality he never saw coming.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author Note: A big show of appreciation and love to @a-reader-and-a-writer (Vee) for constantly being ready and willing to help me with my writing. You have been the backbone I needed to get this done!

You guys will never know how much this series means to me. And in the same breath, you guys will never know how much your support truly means. Merry Christmas Eve Eve 2024 ya filthy animals.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Researchers say the average length of a dream is two to three minutes long. But many people experience their dreams as hours, days, or even years if they can remember them at all. 

The science of dreaming has been questioned for hundreds of years. Some hypothesise that dreams are our way of processing real events that occur when we’re awake. They also serve as an outlet for repressed hopes and desires. Neuroscientists introduce a new theory every few years. But honestly, no one knows why we dream. 

Or why we have nightmares. We just hope that after the dream, we wake up. 

“We’ve gone over all the risks, weighed up all the possible outcomes, dotted I’s and crossed T’s. Today is the day, Mrs. Seresin.” Doctor Morrison was hopeful in his consultation. The white coat-wearing man reassured you as he placed your chart back where it belonged. “How are you feeling?” 

The question went unanswered for a moment or two. You felt like you were in a state of shock. Unable to truly express how you felt just hours before going into what could be life-changing surgery. You were giving everyone in the room a thousand-yard stare. Mentally and physically, you had checked out. Like you’d been stuck in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop torturing you. 

“We had some bad news last night. A close friend passed away unexpectedly,” Jake answered on your behalf. “Is there any way–” 

“We need to do this now, Mr. Seresin, or we won’t be able to revisit this for a few months,” Dr. Morrison explained with an emphasis on the matter of now or never. “I understand personal circumstances may have changed. However, knowing everything you know about risk and recovery and survival rates after double mastectomies, I recommend we stick to the organised care plan.” 

“Can we have a moment alone?” Jake asked cautiously as his hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You hadn’t moved from what could only be described as a catatonic-like state for the entire duration of the conversation. 

“Of course,” Dr. Morrison nodded. “I’ll come back after I’ve checked in on a few patients.” 

It didn’t take long at all for the oncology crew to exit the room. But the second they did, you felt like you could breathe again. 

“I can’t go through with this surgery Jake,” you begged. Fear of the unknown had taken over your entire being. “I can’t do this,” 

“You are the strongest person I know, honey, the kids and I really need you to do this.” Jake tried his best to comfort you as well as remind you why this surgery was so important. “We need you, yeah? We need you to stick around and this fucking cancer, this disease, is trying to cut that time short.” 

“But Jensen–” 

At the height of the Great Depression, Harvard scientists started tracking students in hopes of discovering the key to a long and happy life. They looked at participants’ mental and physical health over seventy-five years. It’s the longest study of happiness to date. Seventy-five years and all they did was confirm what we’ve known since the beginning of time. 

The most powerful predictor of health and happiness is the quality of our relationships. 

Strong relationships protect us. Loneliness on the other hand…can be deadly. 

“Would want you to keep fighting and have this surgery.” Jake could have said he thought Jensen was a coward. He could have said how angry he was at that fucker for leaving you alone in this world with no one to confide in who knew the struggle, who knew the feeling of being told you’re sick and need to get sicker in order to get better. 

Jake could have told you how he wished Jensen had survived so he could kill him himself. Jake could have responded with the fact Jensen was terminal and there was nothing on this earth that could have saved him from his illness. 

Jake could have told you that Jensen thought you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky every night just for him…but then Jake would also have to admit to himself and you that maybe, just maybe, you should have moved on. 

“What would he say right now if he was here?” Jake settled on that question just to keep himself sane. He didn’t want to open yet another can of worms right before your surgery. This was all one big giant nightmare already, he didn’t want to make it worse. If anything, Jake kept pinching himself in secret just hoping that maybe he’d wake up on the couch and this cancer saga would all be some sadistic subconscious dream of his. 

He’d always been deathly afraid of not being good enough for you. 

“He’d tell me to do it,” you sighed as you let your head rest against the upright bed. “He’d tell me to be strategic about the battle, the war is the endgame.” 

“Exactly, one battle at a time, step by step,” Jake agreed with a cheeky smile. That signature Seresin smile you so effortlessly loved. “You’re not gonna hand in the white flag before the battles even really begins, are you?” 

“Kinda want to if I’m being completely honest with you,” you responded knowing Jake would appreciate the honesty. “But I guess you and the kids really need me to stick around, huh?” 

“Oh, I can’t even begin to explain how much we need you to stick around, honeybee.” it was as honest and as sincere as Jake could be. He wore his heart on his sleeve for you. He exposed every nerve he had just so you could dance your feather-like fingers across the tender strings that made Jake, Jake. 

“I’m so scared of being alone in the operating room,” you admitted as Jake leaned in to leave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m so scared they won’t see me as a person,” It was an explanation that broke Jake’s heart even though he believed his heart couldn’t be broken any more. “That they won’t remember I’m me, that I have a life and a family and people who will miss me.” 

Over the course of our lives, our relationships ebb and flow. We get together, break up, move away, or fall out of touch. It’s prolonged periods of loneliness and toxicity that wreak havoc on our health, our brain function, and our longevity. 

“You’re never alone,” Jake replied softly as tears threatened to spill over his waterline. “I’m always with you, the kids are always with you, Jensen, your mum, everyone will be with you during that surgery, we’re gonna be waiting on the other side.” 

“I love you so much, Jake Seresin,” you smiled brightly through a tight-lipped smile Jake wished he could save in his mind’s eye forever. “Let’s win this battle.” 

“And the war too,” Jake replied as he reached for your hand, gave it a soft squeeze, and brought your palm to his lips. “Let’s fucking do this, Y/n.” 

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

Jake sat waiting by the vending machine as he picked at the small single service-sized packet of original Lays he’d nearly had to beg the machine to drop. His watch told him it was almost nearing the end of your surgery. He wasn't stressed, not when your surgeon had been so hopeful and calming. Jake had spent far too much of his time recently worrying about the what-ifs. He wanted to focus on the now. And that now was the fact you would have been nearing the end of your surgery. Which meant soon enough he’d get to see you again. 

The only thing that kept Jake on his toes was the ever-looming doubt that perhaps the treatment plan wouldn't be enough. He hoped that you had enough fight in you to make it through the journey. He needed you to have enough strength to fight. 

“She should be coming out of surgery soon–” Jake explained as he held his phone up to his ear and tried not to chew so loud. “The kids know that Rooster is picking them up to bring them home to Grandma Maz’s house?” 

“Yeah, Mum’s not too happy about it but she won't keal over about it,” Jasmine replied as she watched her brother's kids play with hers in the backyard she and Jake used to make mud pies in. “Rooster messaged about an hour ago saying he was close, he shouldn't be too far away now.” Jas continued in her own little world. Jake was used to not being able to get a word in with his youngest sister. “I can't believe Y/n has fucking cancer–does her side of the family have a history or…?” 

“Not that we know of, it's just really bad luck, Jas,” Jake sighed as he let his head fall back against the wall his chair was pressed up against. “But hopefully with this surgery and the chemo, she’ll be able to beat it.” 

“Well, you tell her that I’m pissed she gets a boob job before I do,” Jasmine tried her best to keep the situation as light-hearted as possible. “Make sure she gets a good rack, not too small or too big, like a good handful that's just right.” 

“I'll be sure to let her know,” Jake smiled, he really could count on his sister for that. “Oh, I gotta go, I see Y/n’s surgeon.” Jake sat up in anticipation as anxiety flooded his nervous system. “Tell the kids we love them for me.” 

“Have been every day,” Jasmine replied quickly knowing her brother probably had his phone down from his ear by now. “Bye.” 

Jake was quick to pocket his phone and wipe the crumbs from his shirt as he stood to greet your surgeon. However, something seemed off about the man who had seemed so confident before your surgery. 

“Mr. Seresin–” 

“How is she?” Jake asked. He didn't mean to interrupt, but he needed to know first and foremost before any medical mumbo jumbo. “My wife, how’d the surgery go?” 

There was a very telling pause that accompanied the sober look that Doctor Morrison wore, but Jake tried not to read into it all that much. He knew you would be fine. 

Right? 

“Mr Seresin, your wife's heart was weakened by the stress of her recent stroke,” Doctor Morrison began to explain as Jake stood there expecting good news. “She, unfortunately, went into a cardiac arrest–” the air around Jake disappeared. Almost instantly, he felt as if he were floating in space. “We tried to revive her for the better half of twenty minutes while she was on the table,” There was a pause. A telling moment where reality and fantasy were trying to battle it out. Who’s version of events would win? When Doctor Morrison saw Jake’s mind short-circling with an inability to process the magnitude of information, he felt as if he needed to continue explaining the severity of the situation. 

“It was catastrophic, and I'm afraid we've lost her.” Doctor Morrison had told far too many loved ones over the years that they had lost family members, but never in all his years had he ever seen such immediate denial written in the lines on someone's face. “Mr. Seresin, your wife has died.” The words Doctor Morrison was saying were not sinking in as Jake stood there completely blind to the reality happening around him. “I’m so sorry for your loss–” 

“Uh–” Jake frowned as the confusion kicked in. “I'm sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My wife was fine before she went in for surgery, she was fine.” 

“Yes, yes, your wife was fine, yes–” Doctor Morrison tried to keep his composure, but even after all these years the losses still hurt. It made him feel human to experience the emotions alongside the family members, but in the first few seconds of watching Jake Seresin spiral into a hole of denial that you were, in fact, gone, Doctor Morrison, knew this particular loss would haunt him for the rest of his career. 

Speaking slowly, Doctor Morisson tried once more to explain what had happened in a way that Jake would understand. “The stress of the surgery along with her recent stroke…her body just couldn't handle the stress. Her heart experienced a cardiac episode and we unfortunately couldn’t revive her.” 

The immediate silence between the two men was all-consuming as it was telling. Jake’s heart was breaking in two. 

“Is there someone I can call for you?” Doctor Morrison tried to be as empathetic as he could be, this part of the job was never easy. The part where he was tasked with telling loved ones that the people they loved had passed on his table. They were few and far between, but the people he did lose would forever haunt him. He could name every single one and their family’s name too. Jake Seresin would be a name Doctor Morrison would remember for the rest of his life and into the next. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jake pushed back almost immediately as he tried to wrap his head around what he was being told. This didn’t make any sense, you were just here. You were fine. 

“No, Mr. Seresin I–” Doctor Morrison tried to explain again, but it was to no avail.

“I–Okay, I think you must be mistaken,” Jake wiped his hand on his jeans as he stepped back. “I just need to ge–”

“Mr. Seresin, please.” Doctor Morrison tried to stop Jake from leaving the waiting area, but Jake just stepped further back with a frown of disgust and grief. He was still holding his packet of Lays. 

“No, no can you just, can you back up?” Jake nearly growled. “Can you leave me alone?” Jake looked around as he tried to remember how to breathe. People were staring at him like he was in a zoo. A caged and cornered animal begging to be left alone. “Can somebody get this person to just give me some space please?” It was as heartbreaking as it was cruel to watch Jake walk down the hall towards where he knew your hospital room was. 

“Y/n?” He called out hoping you'd be back by now. “You won’t believe this guy, honey. He just–” The moment Jake rounded the corner and saw your hospital room empty with no sign of you, he stood still. All the air had been sucked right from his lungs as his eyes scanned the room. Your Christmas lights weren’t flashing, your bed wasn't made, and your laptop sat open with a black screen, but just where you’d left it. You weren't back. 

“Y/n?” Jake whispered under his breath as his eyes continued to scan the empty hospital room just waiting for you to appear from out of the bathroom or sneak up behind him. But Jake knew you weren't about to appear even though he wished for nothing more. 

“Oh–” One step, two steps, three steps, four. Jake didn't know where he was but he was on the move. He couldn't stay here looking at an empty room. He had to find where you were. “Oh god, no, no no no no no, please no don’t take her away from me.” 

“Jake!” The woman's voice Jake had come to know over the last few days broke through the fog that was clouding Jake's mind. He continued to stumble blindly down the ward. “I just heard,” Lydia explained as she rushed up to the man who she had come to know as your husband. “I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I thought–” Lydia quickly reacted when Jake's knees buckled underneath him. 

“Woah! I need a little help over here!” Doctor Morrison was quick on the draw as he made his way over to where Jake now kneeled on the floor unable to breathe. 

“My wife–” Jake tried to talk as he hyperventilated. “Y/n!” he cried out for all to hear. “Y/N!” 

“She's gone.” Doctor Morrison had to make sure the fact was sinking in. 

“Oh Jake, I’m so sorry–” Lydia tried to console the six-foot-something man who had crumbled to his knees. “Your wife was an amazing woman.” 

Jake still couldn't believe it, he didn't believe it, and he wouldn't. The pain he felt inside his chest, the burning hot sensation was excruciating. He’d never felt such a feeling of grief mixed with denial and so much love. You couldn’t be gone. He was having a nightmare, wasn’t he? This wasn't real. He was dreaming. This was all one big dream. It had to be. It had to be a nightmare his subconscious had concocted. A nightmare where Jake lost it all. His biggest fears were realised. 

“I need my wife, I need Y/n,” Jake sobbed as Lydia kneeled on the ground in front of him just assessing his current state of shock. “I can't, she can't–no no no she's fine, please tell me she's fine.” 

“I'm so sorry, Jake,” Lydia confirmed what Jake wished so desperately wasn’t true. “She’s gone,” Lydia’s voice became distorted as she held the broken man in her arms. “You need to wake up before it's too late.” 

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

Bradley Bradshaw was accustomed to losing the people he loved the most in this world. He’d lost his father, his mother, and his grandparents. For a while there he’d lost the only man who had ever slightly filled the shoes his dad left behind. But the loss of someone who was still there was something he’d never had to handle before. 

“Nat, he hasn’t gotten out of bed in days,” Bradley groaned as he cleaned up the kitchen. “The kids already lost their mother,” Bradley tried his best to keep his voice down, but the way little Lennox clocked Bradley from where he was sitting at the dining table made him realise he wasn’t one to talk on the quiet side. “They don’t need to lose their dad too.”

Jake stood just outside of Bradley’s eyeline, but he could hear everything the giant overgrown bird was saying. He couldn’t hear what Phoenix was saying but there was enough back and forth on Bradley’s behalf to easily fill in the gaps. 

“No. No, he hasn’t been down since the funeral.” Jake forgot how to exhale at the mere mention of your funeral as he hid in the hall. He couldn’t remember ever getting ready or speaking at your wake. He couldn’t remember who drove them or if the kids cried. He couldn’t remember hugging your mother or shaking your brother’s hand. Jake couldn’t remember any details about the flowers he’d organised or the people who were there. 

The anti-depressants weren’t helping. Nothing was. Nothing would. 

Until today, Jake couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Without you, there was no point. He was begrudgingly okay with living a life in a world where you were still in it. But living in a world where you were no longer present wasn’t something Jake was willing to do. The kids would be fine with their grandparents. They’d be fine with Uncle Rooster. Lennox and Lucy and little Sammy didn’t need him. How was he supposed to look into their eyes and know he could never see the twinkle in yours ever again? 

“I’m really worried about him, Nat,” Rooster sighed as he held his phone up to his ear with his shoulder. He was working on making little Samy some banana pancakes. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay here forever, but he needs someone.” 

“No one is asking you to babysit me, Bradshaw,” Jake replied to the statement Bradley wasn’t expecting an answer to. “You can leave, trust me, I can drop the kids off with my mum.” 

Bradley stood stunned into silence as he watched Jake round the corner and into vision. He reluctantly reached for his phone and hung up as Phoenix questioned what was going on. 

“Hey man,” Rooster finally broke the silence as he watched Jake walk closer and closer to where Sammy sat in his high chair. “How you feeling today?” 

“Well, my wife’s still dead, so that’s something,” Jake replied with a sigh as he picked up Sammy and placed him on his lap. Lennox could see the look of pure admiration in his younger brother’s eyes as Jake hugged the smallest of the Seresin kids. “Seriously, you’ve done enough for us, I got it from here.” It was the biggest lie Jake had ever tried to tell not only himself but his best friend. 

“Uh,” Bradley wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I mean–I wanna stay as long as you need man,” Bradley tried to plead his case as Jake went about his business with Sammy. The business being nothing. Jake stood somewhat dazed and lost in the middle of the clean-ish kitchen. A kitchen he knew where nothing was. It wasn’t his. It was yours. 

“I think the kids should come back to North Island with me,” Jake opted to ignore what Bradley was saying. Instead, he decided to continue with a vague plan for what the future holds. A future he didn’t want to have with you. A future he didn’t care about. 

“You want the kids to uproot everything they know?” Rooster frowned as he looked over to where Lenny sat watching on. The kids were down, to say the least. Bradley could recognise himself in the permanent pout that had taken shape across Lennox’s face. The puffy eyes and saddened expression really tied the whole look of mourning together. They were just kids, they didn’t deserve any of this. “I don’t think you should be thinking about coming back to work anything soon either.” 

“I don’t need you micromanaging me,” Jake hissed as he held onto his youngest son, all the while his eldest watched on with concern for his dad. “I need you to go home, Rooster, we’ve got it from here.” 

“You don’t got anything, Seresin. Are you kidding me right now?” Bradley didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. But he’d seen Jake in this grief-fueled spiral long enough to know that his destructive and depressive mindset would end up causing more distress for the kids than intended. Jake was a good dad, that had never been questioned. Until now… Bradley wasn’t sure if his best friend could handle parenting three small children without a village to back him up. “The kids haven’t seen you in days–” 

“Would you rather them see me at my worst or not see me at all?” Jake’s grief was eating away at him. So much so that Jake began to wish each time he closed his eyes he’d get to stay with the version of you his mind had envisioned. “I’m fine, I’ve got it from here,” Jake sighed as he hugged little Sammy with all the strength that he had. “I wasn’t, but I’m fine now and I just wanna spend time with the kids.” 

“I don’t believe a word you’re saying right now man,” Bradley replied as he caught sight of Lucy coming down the hall. She’d been sleeping much like her father was. Great, all three Seresin children were present for their father’s impending breakdown. 

“Get the fuck out of my house, Bradshaw.” This hadn’t been the first confrontation Jake and Bradley had gotten into while Bradley had been staying in Rhode Island as the Seresin kid’s personal live-in nanny. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. The only difference this time was the kids were here to witness it. “I don’t need you here–”

“You aren’t thinking straight, just–how about the kids and I go for a walk or something and you sort yourself out? Have a shower? Shave? Drink something other than alcohol for–” Before Rooster could finish his sentence, Jake was placing Sam on the kitchen floor with a haste that didn’t sit right with Rooster. Lennox was the first to move from his chair. He was the spitting image of his father. 

“I don’t fucking care, Rooster!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs. So loud and with such rage that the veins in his neck were popping as his skin turned a nice shade of ruby red. He took fast strides across the kitchen until Jake was standing toe to toe with his best friend. The very friend who’d been taking care of his children since before your passing. “I have to live the rest of my fucking live without the woman I love, so, cut me some godman slack before I knock your smug ass head from your shoulders.” 

Bradley didn’t move. He didn’t retaliate. He watched over Jake’s shoulder how his three children all cowered on the kitchen floor, scared of how their father yelled. Jake was oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn’t see the kids were struggling too. 

“Jake?” Bradley sighed as he placed his hands on either side of Jake’s face. “When the fuck are you gonna get through all this?” Braley asked softly as he remained calm. “When are you gonna wake up?” 

“Wake up?” Jake repeated as he pulled his face from his best friend's grip. “Wake up? Bradshaw, I died with my wife! There is no waking up from any of this!” 

“Maybe–” Bradley shrugged as he walked over to where the kids had been huddled together. It was only as Jake followed Bradley’s trajectory that he realised how much he’d scared his children. Something he never wanted to do. “There's always hope though.” 

“Kids,” Jake sighed as his tears began to fall. He dropped to his knees right then and there in the kitchen he wasn't familiar with. In a house that was now cold and dark without your constant radiating light to keep it warm and bright. “Guys, I'm sorry, huh–Dad didn't mean to raise his voice, he’s just–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, little Lennox was finishing his father’s sentence for him. 

“You’re just sick, dad.” 

“What?” Jake frowned as the kids made their way over to where Jake was kneeling on the tiles. 

“I said you’re just sad, Dad,” Lennox replied once more as he gave his dad a hug. “We’ll take care of you.” 

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

December 31st 

Jake Seresin tried his best to hide the wet tears that fell down his cheeks as he sat with his kids on the lounge of the home that he had tried his best to keep as tidy as he could. There was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration, a lot of fear and unbelievable sadness that surrounded Jake and your three small children. The unknown was truly tragic, terrifying and treacherous, but Jake wasn’t about to let his kids see the way he so desperately wanted to cry. 

Things had changed since Jake fell mind, body and soul into an unimaginably deep hole of depression. So much so that days had become to feel like one long dream. A paradox of grief and manic love. Your mother had told Jake to feel every ounce of emotion he had locked away. Maz had told him that grief was just someone’s residual love with nowhere else to go. 

Once Jake was able to understand that the pain of losing you was his love for you, he understood why it hurt so deeply on a cellular level. He understood why it hurt to look at the children he’d created with you. He understood why the kids had wanted to sit and open the small, still-wrapped Christmas present Lenny had found in Jake’s bag when he was looking for his dad’s wallet. 

Because it was one of the last things you ever gifted someone. It was one of your last acts on earth. 

“What did Mum get you for Christmas, Daddy?” Jake held the small present in the palm of his hand, the present he had yet to open. The present he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It felt like something he’d held before, the weight felt all too familiar. It haunted him the more he carried it around, held it in the palm of his hand and contemplated the inevitable. 

“I dunno buddy, you reckon I should open it?” Jake asked as he kissed his son's head. “S’not Christmas anymore.” The Naval Aviator had recently shaved his head, it had been the closest to a number one he’d ever had. It was in solidarity, union. A decision he made in the blink of an eye but one he did not regent or ever would. 

“We haven’t taken the tree down yet,” Lucy added her two cents into the conversation as she laid her head on her father’s thigh. “Mum would be upset if you didn’t open it, Dad.” Jake knew that much was true, you probably would be pretty bent out of shape if he never opened it. 

“Alright, I’d better open it then huh?” Jake shook the small perfectly wrapped box he could hold in the palm of his hand. He heard what sounded like a rock rattle inside. His heart nearly exploded inside his chest. 

Fuck….Jake knew what it was and he really didn’t want to open it. 

“Hey, Dad?” Lucy’s voice sounded completely different to anything Jake had ever heard before. She was looking right at him yet her eyes were trained on something one hundred miles away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jake replied just as he was about to open the present you’d given him before his life was turned upside down. 

“You need to wake up now,” Lucy’s voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t her own. “You’ve had enough time here,” 

“What are you talking about Lu?” Jake frowned as he looked at his daughter. An extension of himself and you. “Lucy? Are you feeling okay?” 

“You’ll be a good dad soon,” Lucy smiled as she unwrapped the small ring box in Jake’s hand. The ring box that held what Jake assumed to be your engagement ring. But as little Lucy opened the wrapping, a blinding light burst through the cracks. A light so bright it forced Jake to squint. 

“Please wake up, honey,” Jake heard your voice clear as day as Lucy opened the ring box to send a piercing white light into the living room. Jake was completely captured by the light around him. So much so the entire room was drowned in a light so pure it was crystal clear. He couldn’t see a single thing beyond the all-encompassing white. 

“Please wake up for us,” again your voice was the only thing Jake could hear in the void he found himself in. 

“Y/n?” Jake called out into the void around him. He could feel his ribcage breaking like he couldn't breathe. Every breath he took was agony. “Hello?” Yet he could hear your voice. A voice he longed for. A voice he had to get back to. Jake had to get to you. 

“I’m here, you’re alright,” Jake once again heard your angelic siren song. His head began to throb. The feeling was agonising. Like there was no more room for swelling. 

“Where are you?” Jake called out as he stumbled in the light. The smell of burning flesh mixed with jet fuel overcame Jake’s senses. His need to get to you was more powerful than the deep bone ache he could feel in his legs. There was nothing on earth or beyond that would stop Jake from getting to wherever the hell you were calling him from. His entire body ached with a pain so unimaginable it sent him to his knees. Crawling, Jake cried out for you just one more time. 

“Y/n!?” Jake called out once more in a desperate attempt to find you in the void. “Kids?” 

“Here he comes,” Bradley’s voice echoed out as Jake looked up towards where he assumed the sky would be. The glare was too much. Jake placed his forearms over his forehead to soften the brightness. “Come on Hangman, don't leave us out to dry.” 

Some people spend their whole lives trying to make a dream come true. They set a goal and make a plan on how to achieve it. It works for some people. But for others, it’s not so easy. As hard as they work toward the dream, it can feel like the whole world has plotted against them. 

As someone gets further and further away from the dream, people begin to cling to any sign of hope. And the longer it takes and the more it costs…you start to consider whether you should give up. Do you find a new dream? Or do you stick to the one that started you on this journey in the first place? 

For Jake, things weren’t as black and white. 

As Jake closed his eyes and took one painful last breath in, he felt as if he’d fallen from cloud nine. When he opened his eyes, the light was still there….But he wasn’t.

Jake’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest hint of light creeping through the haze of his mind. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign as if it wasn’t entirely his own. The weight of unconsciousness clung to him, reluctant to release its hold. Slowly, he became aware of the sounds around him—

“Jake, It’s me, can you hear me?”

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

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✰ one hell of a gamble

kinktober 24 - day three

featuring: gen narumi x f!reader

summary: despite being one of the top officers in the first division, you've been slacking recently. after putting your captains life in danger, he calls you into his office for a "chat"

tags: smut, power play, sir kink, choking, degradation, petnames (dear, kitty)

wc: 1.8k

you hadn't always been like this. your performance has been nothing but perfect since joining the first division, you’ve constantly proven yourself as you advanced through the rankings rapidly. at this point, killing kaiju became second nature, each mission felt like a natural extension of your own abilities. however, in the last few weeks, something changed. whether it was burnout or distraction, your focus drifted and your enthusiasm lessened.

but to everyone's dismay, it wasn’t just affecting you. the entire first division became aware of your slacking as rumours and whispers grew louder by the day. your reckless behaviour could be excused until it put the first division's captain, narumi, in danger. while it wasn’t enough to incapacitate him, it left him injured and humiliated.

you knew it was only a matter of time before you were called into his office.

of course, today is that day. your feet drag along the concrete floor as you approach his door. the weight of the last few weeks crashing down on you as you feel your heart race in your chest. your palms sweaty as you prepare yourself to knock on the door, but it swings open before your knuckles could even make contact.

“in,” narumi’s voice snaps, short and blunt, making you only more nervous.

you step inside, your eyes flickering to a large throne-like chair, which he apparently likes to laze on—an absurd piece of furniture for a captain, but no one ever dared question it. to no surprise, your captain feels more intimidating than ever today. he’s already seated, leaning back with his legs spread lazily apart. but his gaze is sharp, dangerous even.

“close the door behind you,” he orders, and you comply, the click of the handle reminding you of your tragic fate.

“do you have any idea how much shit you’ve caused?” he sounds calm, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. his fingers drum rhythmically on the arm of his throne, his eyes never leaving yours.

“sir– i can explain…” you start, your attempt to sound calm and collected fails tremendously as you stutter in uncertainty. 

a bitter laugh cuts you off. “explain? what could you possibly say that would justify putting your officers—even captain at risk?”

feeling small under his glare, you swallow hard. this isn’t the captain narumi that you're used to. this is the reserved side he only shows during missions. the captain, who is feared and respected by humanity and kaiju alike.

at last, you finally utter, “i’m sorry,” sounding pitiful as the words leave your mouth. “i realise i’ve made a mistake, i–”

“mistake doesn’t even cover it,” he stands abruptly from his chair as he interrupts you. he approaches you with powerful strides, overwhelming you with his presence the closer he gets. “you’ve been a liability. a risk to the entire division and defence force. frankly, i should fire you on the spot.”

his words hit you like a brick, letting your heart sink down your chest. you’re silently preparing yourself for the worst, but to your surprise, his tone shifts into something darker as he closes the distance between the two of you, his breath ghosting against your ear.

“however… i’ve got another idea. a special assignment just for you, dear.”

you freeze. blinking for a moment, trying to process his words. did you hear him correctly? “another… idea?”

his teasing words reverberated through the room, sending a shiver down your spine. your recent failures weighing you down as he loomed over you, speeding up the pace of your heart. 

“strip.” he orders as his hot breath lingers against your ear.

you’re too scared to question his words as your trembling fingers fumble with your uniform, stripping your attire layer-by-layer, casting each piece to the side until you stand in nothing but your tiny underwear. your naked body is now exposed to the riled-up captain.

"on your knees," narumi barks, and you obey, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. your eyes remain lowered out of fear, not daring to meet his gaze. when you finally look up, he’s back on that throne of his, lazily stretched out across its surface, impatiently waiting for you to follow his orders.

you shudder at the sight of narumi freeing his erection. his veiny, hard cock on full display in front of you, for you to pleasure. as messed up as your current predicament is, you reluctantly take him into your mouth, your throat tight as your lips wrap around his girth.

his hands grip the back of your scalp as you serve him with your tongue, guiding you as he lightly pushes you down on his cock. you slurp and suck on his aching length. sucking him off like your life depends on it, desperate to avoid losing your career.

“look at you, so desperate to make it up to your poor captain. does this turn you on, kitty? do you like putting your career on the line like this?” despite enjoying seeing you writhe beneath him, the first division captain does eventually grow impatient. the stamina of the strongest kaiju combatant obviously lives up to its title as his movements become more forceful, pulling your head back and forth, fucking your throat as he pleases.

his movements get more desperate, and you’re certain he’s about to cum, until he abruptly pulls out? leaving a trail of saliva connecting you and his cock before forcing you up and pushing you forward, your hands gripping the edge of his throne. shoving himself between your thighs and coating your wet heat with his precum.

"arch your back," he orders, and you comply, feeling exposed as his thick erection presses against your pussy.

he slams into you eagerly, his force rocking the throne you’re gripping onto so desperately. you cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as your body adjusts itself to his size. he grabs hold of your hair before he begins moves, pulling your head back as he takes you harder and faster.

to your relief, though, he pulls out, freeing you from his painful size. though the momentary reprieve is short-lived as he makes light work of your delicate body. spinning you around so your back is pressed against his desk. narumi lines up his cock with your dripping entrance, and with one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you.

“that’s right, kitty. take your captain's cock, beg him for forgiveness,” he spits out as the palm of his hand lands firmly on your ass, leaving a reddish imprint.

you cry out at the sting, but the pleasure from his cock is a close second. he grips your hips with one hand, firmly enough to leave a mark as he sets a brutal pace. the sound of skin slapping echoes through the room, sending a jolt of pleasure down to your core every time he hits your sweet spot.

his free hand snakes its way up your body before stopping at your neck. letting his fingers grip the smooth skin as he cuts off your airway. the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelms you as he slams into you harder and faster, the desk creaking under the force of your bodies.

"please, sir... i'm sorry," you choked out between thrusts.

"can't hear you, slut" he growls, landing another hard slap to your ass. his hips slamming into you with a force capable of rendering you numb.

"i'm s-so sorry, sir! please forgive me!" you managed, the tears streaming down your face.

pleased with your begs, he releases his grip on your throat, allowing your breathing to return to normal. "good girl," he praises, his voice a mix of harshness and approval.

pulling out of you once again, he repositions himself back on his grand throne. “ride my cock. show me how sorry you are.”

you lower yourself down on him in an agonisingly slow pace, taking him inch for inch until you bottom out, earning a low groan from him that’s barely audible over your lewd moans.

you start off with small movements, grinding yourself on him, trying to accommodate yourself to being so full. once adjusted, you start bouncing on his cock. your breasts jiggling with each movement, letting the feeling of him intoxicate you.

“just like that kitty—bounce on my cock. apologise to me with that tight pussy of yours,” he says as he pulls you down on his cock, meeting your thrusts with his own. he slaps your ass again, softly groping the irritated flesh afterwards, the sting sending electricity through your body. you’re close. you feel a wave of pleasure build up in your core as you grow desperate for release.

of course, your observant captain notices. he leans in closer to suck and bite the area around your neck, leaving a trail of purple marks as he descends down to your hardened tits, giving them the same treatment.

“cum for me, kitty” narumi growls, his voice low and commanding.

your body responds to his command immediately, letting your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave as the pleasure courses through your body. not long after, narumi followed suit, letting out a loud groan before burying his cock deep inside you once final time, feeling your walls milk him dry as he spills hot ropes of cum inside you.

his seed now leaking from your quivering pussy as he slowly pulls out and leans back, breathing heavily “that’s what i’m talking about, good girl,” he praises with a satisfied look on his face.

you take your time regaining your composure as you were still shaking from your high. ever the gentleman he is, narumi waits for you to finally look at him before continuing, “you’ve made your apology, and i’ve accepted it. go back to your duties and prove you’re still one of my best officers, understood?”

you nod, feeling relief and embarrassment course through you. you slowly stood up to regain your scattered clothes and put them back up. narumi’s gaze lingers on your body as you do so, seemingly approving of your little performance.

as you put your jacket back on, now fully dressed, you turn to face him one last time, offering a shy smile as you salute. “thank you, sir.”

a small smirk laces narumi's face, leaning back into his throne as he warns, “don’t thank me just yet. remember, i can always call you back in for another assignment.”

the memory of earlier flashes through your mind as you swallow hard before embarrassingly scurrying out of his office, now questioning whether you should ‘accidentally’ get yourself in trouble again.

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©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works