#and it feels like nothing and everything has happened since

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.” She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 9)

summary: thoughts of jack still linger, but a familiar face (and the person who's helped you get over your breakup) come to visit you and hugh - your personal trainer. meanwhile, hugh continues filming and puts on the wolverine costume for the first time. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: angst - mentions of toxic relationship, verbal abuse. smut (18+, mdni) - cowgirl, unprotected p in v, oral - m receiving, dirty talk, all while hugh is in his wolverine costume, implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), no use of y/n. word count: 4k a/n: i've missed these two's personal trainer, so she's coming back and i think she's gonna be the driving force behind the reader realizing how far she's come! hope y'all enjoy, things are gonna get better... i promise. in the meantime, i've been wanting to write some smut of hugh in his wolverine costume bc i mean... how can you not??? lol. as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. prev part.

A week has passed since your run in with Jack. Hugh tries to act like nothing happened, act like what happened didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t help it. He was still fuming, still wanting so badly to just find Jack and finish what he started. He does notice a small shift in your behavior, but he has to wonder if you’re hiding the fact that you’re still on edge. There are still brief moments where you space out, like your mind has drifted to some other place and he has to gently take you out of it with a hand on your shoulder or a quiet call of your name. 

You snap out of it more quickly than before, but he can still see the panicked expression flickering in your eyes. 

Every night, you thank him and Hugh isn’t sure why. You thank him for being there for you, for being the safe space that you didn’t know you needed, for loving you the way you should be loved. 

And every night, Hugh watches you fall asleep and only when he sees the peaceful look on your sleeping face does he feel relaxed enough to go to sleep too. 

As the weekend approaches, Hugh has an idea to give both your personal trainer a call and invite her over for the week. He knows how important she is to you, how she has helped you overcome not only your breakup with Jack, but has helped you see just how amazing of a person you are. 

You’re in the bathroom when Hugh steps out on the patio of the hotel room to give her a call. She answers almost quickly and Hugh has to look over his shoulder to make sure that you haven’t come out yet. 

“Hugh, hey! How’s filming going?” she says enthusiastically. 

“It’s been going great,” Hugh answers, biting his lower lip. “How are things back home?” 

“Busy like always,” she laughs quietly. “I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation.”

“How about you come here?” 

“That’s not necessarily a vacation if I’m going there to work,” she chuckles. 

“I’ll pay for everything.”

“I mean, that’s only fair.”

Hugh laughs quietly then he lets out a quiet sigh. “Listen, Jack–”

“I know,” she interjects. “We’ve been talking this last week. Doesn’t sound like she’s doing that well.”

“I think she’s hiding the fact that she isn’t doing okay,” Hugh admits. “And I think if you’re here, she’d feel a lot better. You don’t even have to train either of us. Just– I think she needs someone more than me right now.”

“I’m there,” she responds immediately. “Tell me when, Hugh, and I’ll be there.” 

Hugh lets out a breath of relief. “Perfect. I’ll arrange everything for you and send you the details.”

After Hugh hangs up the phone, he walks back inside the hotel room and sees you come out of the bathroom in a white robe and a towel in your hands to run through your wet hair. He sees you look up at him, a small smile on your lips as he walks over to you. His hands drop to your waist as he leans down to peck your lips.

“So…” he begins.

You arch a brow, tossing the dampened towel onto the bed. You stare up at him, hands now moving to rest on his chest. “What?”

“I know what happened last week is still lingering,” Hugh continues and sees your mouth open to protest, but he shakes his head. “It’s lingering for me at least, baby.” 

“Hugh…”

“Just,” he sighs. “Hear me out. I’m flying in our trainer this week. I know that she’s been with you through everything, has helped you with this and I can’t…” Hugh bites his lower lip. “As much as I wish that I can help you, I just know that I can’t.”

“But you have…”

“But it’s not enough, love,” Hugh admits. “I know that. You know that.”

“I’m sorry…” you drift your eyes downwards, staring at your feet.

“Hey,” Hugh bites his lower lip and hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look back up at him. He can see the hurt in your eyes, the worry etched in your features. You’re thinking again and Hugh brushes his thumb gently across your jawline as he stares deeply into your eyes. “You don’t ever have to apologize for this, for him.”

“I just wish he still didn’t have so much control over me…” 

“I know, baby,” Hugh says softly. “He hurt you for a long time,” he tightens his jaw. “So the way you’re feeling… It’s completely valid.” 

“I love you,” you tell him. “I don’t think I deserve you–”

“Okay, we’re gonna stop saying that, yeah?” Hugh says with a small smile. “I feel like the luckiest man alive that you chose me, that I get to feel your love,” he admits. “So from now on, we’re going to stop saying that… because if anyone doesn’t deserve the other person, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but he just leans in and presses his lips firmly against yours. You melt into him, hands moving from his chest to wrap around his neck. “Don’t think that kissing me is going to prevent me from saying otherwise,” you mumble against his lips.

Hugh smiles and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Fine,” he says, pulling away slowly. “How about we say that we do deserve each other?” 

You nod, playing with the hair at his nape. “Yeah, I like that a lot more.” You lean up on your toes and gently peck his lips, feeling him lift you even further until your legs wrap around his waist and he sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap. 

“I love you, baby,” he says, moving a hand to the knot on your robe. “And I just want you happy.”

You bite your lower lip and look down at where his hand plays with the knot at your robe, feeling his length stir beneath his shorts. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you admit. “And it’s because of you.”

Hugh grins and then undoes the knot on your robe, slowly pushing it off your shoulders as he watches the fabric fall from your body. He clears his throat, your entirely exposed frame now in full view for him as his gaze darkens with lust. 

“Think we can be quick about this?” he asks hopefully, feeling you slowly roll your hips against his. Hugh’s eyes gaze down between your legs, seeing your sex slicked with your arousal. 

“I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself, baby.” Hugh grunts quietly when he feels your hands tug at his shorts and he lifts himself slightly to lower it past his legs, letting it pool around his ankles. He’s already so hard at the sight of you, his tip already leaking with his precome and when he feels your hand wrap itself around his base, he lets out a loud groan.

“Shawn and Ryan can wait a little longer,” Hugh smirks, eyes fluttering when he feels you slowly lower yourself down onto him. 

—

True to Hugh’s word, your trainer arrives on set the following week. You practically run towards her in excitement (and immense relief) when you see her. Hugh’s at his trailer, leaning against the door when he sees the big smile on your face. It’s been a while since he’s seen your smile meet your eyes, pure happiness and relief written on your expression. 

You pull away from the hug and lead her to Hugh’s trailer, seeing the both of them hug as well before he lets the both of you inside. He’s not yet dressed for today’s shoot, but you can see the blue and yellow suit hanging in the corner. Today had been a day you were looking forward to because not only was your trainer going to be here, but Hugh was finally going to put on the comically-accurate Wolverine suit for the first time in over twenty years. 

“I was thinking we can all grab dinner tonight after shooting,” Hugh suggests, hand reaching out for you. You smile in his direction and take his hand, leaning against him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” your trainer says with a smile. 

“I usually leave earlier than Hugh, so after a few scenes, we can head back to the hotel and catch up,” you tell her.

“Perfect. I’ve already seen Hugh in his element, but to see you in yours? I’m excited.” 

“Oh, I’m nothing special–”

Both Hugh and your trainer look at you with an expression that tells you to stop the negative self-talk. You bite your lower lip and then shake your head, lifting your free hand in the air. 

“Okay, okay. I’m working on it.”

“Oh, after this week, it’s gonna be drilled into you,” your trainer chuckles. “Now come on, show me around set while Hugh gets ready.” 

You nod and then watch her leave the trailer before you turn to look up at Hugh, hand resting on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Hugh smiles and pecks your lips. “I missed your smile,” he admits. 

You let out a quiet sigh and then look down at his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s no reason to be sorry,” Hugh corrects. “I just love seeing you happy, baby.” 

“You’re perfect,” you tell him with a contented sigh. “I’m thinking I don’t ever want to let you go.”

Hugh grins broadly. “Good because you’re stuck with me.” 

“Oh, you promise?” you tease.

Hugh nods, staring deeply into your eyes. “More than you know, love. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

—

You give a thorough tour of the set, but you can tell from the look on your trainer’s face that she’s waiting for you to bring up Jack, to bring up what exactly happened, and how he even came back into your life. 

You know you’ve come a long way from the first time you met her, but you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed in yourself… that all of the hard work that your trainer helped you with seems to have gone to waste at the first conversation with Jack. 

“He called me after he found out that Hugh and I were together,” you finally admit. “I’m assuming it had to do with Hugh posting a picture of us and then word got out and–” you sigh shakily. “Well, you can figure out the rest.” 

“What an asshole,” she mutters. “I’m sorry you still have to deal with him,” she says softly. 

“I just feel–” you sigh. “I feel like I’m the same woman I was when I was with him. A coward. Weak.” 

“That’s not a reflection of who you are as a person,” she replies. “You were never a coward and you were never weak.” 

“But–”

“Jack was abusive,” she says bluntly. “Verbally abusive… and he took advantage of you. And he’s still trying to do that, but there’s a big difference from the woman you were to the woman you are now.” 

“And what’s that? Because from where I’m standing, I feel like I’m back to square one.” 

She sighs. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” 

You shrug. “I just wish I never got Hugh involved.” 

“You didn’t do anything,” she corrects. “You deserve to be happy and Jack doesn’t like that. He doesn’t have a right to tell you who you are – he never did, do you understand me?” 

You can feel tears stinging your eyes as you look at her. She had become the person to help you out of your negative thoughts and you knew that if not for her, you’d have been stuck in the same mindset that Jack made you to believe about yourself. 

“I really missed you,” you tell her, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug.

“Even my workouts?” 

“Ah, maybe not that,” you tease, pulling away from her with a small smile as you wipe your tears away. 

“Well, I’m sure we can squeeze one in this week,” she winks. 

“Thank you,” you say seriously. “For being here.”

“Thank Hugh,” she chuckles. “He just wants you to be happy.”

You smile to yourself. “When you texted me telling me about having someone join in our sessions all those months ago… Did you know that we would hit it off?”

She grins mischievously. “I knew you two would hit it off, but I certainly didn’t expect you both to get together so fast.”

“Oh my god, you set us up.”

She bursts into a fit of laughter. “Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head and begin laughing with her, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, like you can finally breathe again after everything that’s happened with Jack. 

—

After a couple of hours, your trainer decides to leave for the day and get some rest at the hotel before dinner tonight. You opt to remain on set, not having had the chance to see Hugh yet. It’s lunch time for the entire cast and crew, so you walk towards his trailer and step inside, removing the camera from around your neck to set on the table. 

When you turn around to see him dressed in his full Wolverine suit, sitting on the couch with a bowl of salad, you widen your eyes and clear your throat at the sight of him. He has a big grin on his face and waves in your direction, but you can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. 

The suit is so fitting – sculpting to his entire body, but your eyes deviate to his arms, seeing his muscles flex from beneath the suit as he takes another forkful of spinach. 

“You’re–” you bite your lower lip. “You’re wearing the suit.”

“I am,” he chuckles and sets the bowl down onto the table nearby before he stands up. 

Your eyes widen even further at the sight of him standing in his suit in front of you. You know you’re obviously ogling him, eyes lingering in certain areas and Hugh’s enjoying it. He likes the way you look at him, especially right now. You look like a woman who knows what she wants and he can see the gaze in your eyes darkening. 

“You look–” you stutter. “You look good. Like really fucking good.” 

“Is this everything you’ve ever dreamed of?” he teases, his large hand coming to rest on your waist. “You know, with Wolverine being your favorite and all.” 

The contrast of him wearing this suit and his accent is doing things to you that you never thought it would. You can feel the wetness build between your legs, the throbbing and yearning to clamp around him. You can’t even respond, your eyes moving continuously up and down his frame. He looks so big, so strong, and–

“Hello?” Hugh interrupts your thoughts, chuckling quietly. “Do you like it?” 

“Like it?” you answer, hands moving to rest on his chest as you gently shove him back down on the couch. “I fucking love it.” 

Without hesitation, you drop to your knees in front of him as your hands move up his thighs and towards the waistband of his pants. You bite your lower lip, tilting your head as you try to figure out how to remove his pants and letting out a quiet huff of impatience when you can’t seem to find the zipper or button or anything to pull it down and reveal his hardening length. 

Even beneath the fabric of his suit, you can see the length of him, stirring and hardening as you run your palm over him. 

Hugh groans, head tilting to the side as he reaches down to cup your cheek. “Baby, I don’t–”

“Help me figure out how to take these pants off.”

“Baby,” he grunts, feeling your lips press against his manhood from over the fabric of his suit. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, his length straining beneath the fabric and he groans when he feels your lips find his covered tip. 

“Hugh,” you whimper impatiently. “I need you.”

Hugh nods and then stands up in front of you, looking down at you as you remain on your knees. He expertly undoes his pants, knowing that it’s going to be just as difficult to put back on, but at the sight of you so needy and ready for him, he knows it’ll be worth it. 

Hugh then drops his pants to pool around his ankles and he’s about to sit back down when he feels your hands wrap around his base and your mouth immediately wrap itself around his tip. He groans, eyes fluttering shut as he tangles one hand in your hair and remains standing before you. 

You feel a sudden sense of gratitude wash over you, wanting to show Hugh just how grateful you are of him. How patient and thoughtful he’s been these last few weeks. You lean in further, relaxing your throat as you feel the tip of his manhood kiss the back of your throat. The hair at his base tickles your nose and you feel tears sting your eyes as you look up at him, his face contorted into pleasure. You pull back enough, his length glistening with your saliva.

“Fuck,” he growls lowly, his grip in your hair tightening even further as you continue to bob your head rapidly. It’s almost obscene the way you’re sucking him off, like you’re a starved animal and this is your first meal. Hugh can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge with each of your strokes, with each inch sliding further and further into your mouth that he has to pull back from your lips with a quiet pop!. 

Your lips are red and slightly swollen, saliva dripping just a bit at the corner of your lips. You’re staring up at him with a lustful look on your face and he’s about to say something, about to tell you that he’s getting close, but you interrupt him with a shove against his chest to make him sit back down on the couch. 

He clears his throat, watching you drop your pants and underwear to the floor. He reaches down to stroke himself, eyes taking in your exposed lower half. Hugh groans in anticipation when he watches you straddle his hips and align yourself to his tip. 

You waste no time (like you usually do) in sitting firmly on his erected length. You don’t take your time, you don’t slowly lower yourself. Instead, you lower yourself until he fills you to the hilt and Hugh tosses his head back at the sensation of your warm and wet walls clamping down on his already throbbing length. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” Hugh groans, hands darting out to your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

“Call me bub,” you demand, hands moving to rest on his shoulders as you bounce along his length. “Please, Hugh…”

Hugh grunts, feeling every inch of your walls slide along him. He knows what you want, so he switches the flip inside of him and stares at you with a dark look on his face. He lets out a low growl – the way Logan would – and leans in to rest his forehead against yours, having long forgotten his normal Australian accent to replace with Logan’s.

“You feel so good wrapped around me, bub,” he groans. “Taking me so well.” 

Your eyes widen and your walls clench at the role that Hugh is now playing. When he sees the look on your face, he smirks and digs his fingertips even further into you, knowing that it’s going to leave bruises later. “Oh god…” you moan, biting your lower lip from trying to let everyone else on the lot hear what’s going on.

“Yeah?” he growls, moving a hand to your clit and beginning to rub it in circles. “Such a good girl. Look at you,” Hugh groans, feeling himself get closer and closer. “Oh bub,” he continues. “You’re close, ain’t ya? Can feel you tremble…”

“Hugh!” you exclaim, rolling your hips forward and backwards as your walls tighten even further around him. You reach your high far too quickly and feel him continue to rub circles against your clit, your body shaking as you try to reach down for his wrist to stop his movements. 

“That’s a good girl,” Hugh grins. He knows that he’s stronger than you, but he loves seeing you try. Loves to see your body become so overly sensitive that you begin to squirm away from him, unsure if you can reach another orgasm. 

“Hugh… Baby, I can’t–”

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning in to gently bite at your jawline as he thrusts his hips up roughly and rapidly. His balls slap against your backside, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls of his trailer as he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to build and build–

“Fuck!” he groans, moving both hands now to your hips as he paints your walls with his come. Hugh’s eyes fall shut tightly, slowly guiding you along his length as he shudders at your tight walls milking every last drop. 

Slowly, Hugh lifts you off his lap and you quickly scramble to sit next to him, not wanting any of his come to get on the suit. You lean back against the couch, legs still spread open as Hugh looks down at you and sees his release slowly trickle out of you. 

“God, you’re fucking amazing,” he says, his voice back to normal as he watches groans at the sight of his come now trickling between your legs. 

“That was hot,” you smile, breathing heavily. 

“You’re hot,” he grins, reaching for a tissue to first clean you up and then to clean himself. Once he’s softened enough, Hugh pulls up his pants and then grabs your panties and jeans to gently hand it to you. “I’m going to have to film for the rest of the day after that?”

You bite your lower lip and slide on your panties. You sit on your knees and lean in to gently peck his lips. “And then we also have dinner tonight.”

He groans and runs his hand along your bare thigh. “How am I going to pay attention after you attacked me like that?” 

You gasp and gently slap his chest, feeling him take your hand and kiss your knuckles. “I did not attack you!” 

“Oh, the minute you saw me in this suit, you were already undressing me with your eyes.”

“Not my fault you look so hot in it.”

“Should I take it back with me to the hotel?” he grins, eyes wiggling suggestively. 

“If you bring it back to the hotel with you, we’re never leaving.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes,” you giggle. “You still have a movie to shoot.”

Hugh sighs dramatically. “I suppose you have a point.” 

You let out a laugh and Hugh smiles in your direction. “I’ve missed your laugh too,” he says quietly. 

You look up at him and cup his cheek, eyes staring into his own. “I’m not gonna let that man control me anymore,” you admit. “It’s going to be tough, but I–”

“You’re stronger than you know, baby,” Hugh finishes for you. “And I’ll be right there to help you through it. As long as you’ll have me.” 

“Wear the suit and then maybe I’ll consider,” you tease. 

Hugh chuckles and gently pushes you onto your back as he settles himself between your legs. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Hugh.”

“Do you think you have one more in you?” he asks, eyes dark with lust once more as he moves a hand between your legs. 

“I don’t–” you gasp when you feel him move your panties to the side and slide a finger past your depths. He can feel his spend inside of you and it makes him growl. 

“Lunch is almost over, Hugh…” you whimper.

“I know. Let me have my dessert, baby.” Hugh grins and then lowers his head between your legs.

---

taglist (if links don't work, i'm sorry!): @corvusmorte - @dragonqueen89 - @whimsiwitchy - @kellyxo1

@wolviehugh - @moonxknightx - @sullyselena - @angelofthorr - @spectorrrhgf

@needz1nk - @fandomxo00 - @godlypresley - @kythefangirl25 - @callsignyourmom

@sue8724 - @squishyfruitloop - @sylviavf - @emotrash1 - @dissentientss

@sir-thisisadndserver - @absolutepie - @millajay - @itsallyscorner - @haytchee

@wolverigrl - @its-in-the-woods - @d3ad2you - @definitely-not-chill - @khxna

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best - Jungkook (part 5)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Jungkook’s feeling down lately.

After leaving Sewoon in the club, he hopped on his motorcycle and started driving until he reached his own home. Opening the front door he looked around and was emerged by this void feelling. He didn't know what was going on and why he felt the way he did. It wasn't a normal reaction of his. His night even went okay, he was having fun with his friends and kissed the girl he was in love with. How come everything turned out to this shitty. 

Then he remembered Y/n, the way she spoke with him before leaving. Did he say something he wasn't supposed to? Was she mad because of the guy she was sad for? He picked up his phone and called her, not once, not twice but four times. In any of those tries did she pick up.

“Hey Y/n. Just wanted to let you know I’m home and safe. I’m sorry the way things went out tonight, it was a very confusing night. Are we good? We never fought before and I'm lost here. I just-- I want you to know I care about you Y/n, a lot. Never forget that”  

Five minutes later: 

“Please call or text me when you get the chance so I know you are okay and we can talk about it” 

"Don't leave me in the dark Y/n. I'm beggin you. Talk to me or else I'll lose it"

Nothing. After millions of calls and text the response was not what he was expecting and it was driving him insane. Breathing heavily he sent one last text

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

Sitting down on his couch waiting for a call or reply from you was being a nightmare. It's been an hour and he got nothing from you. He fucked up bad. "Shit”. Then his phone started ringing and he answered it so quickly he didn't have time to see who it was, almost dropping it midway.  

“Hello?” 

“Hi Jk.” Sewoon replied on the other side. “Did you get home already? I wanna apologize for the way I spoke earlier about Y/n. You’re right, I shouldn’t have take it so easily and said those things. Were you able to talk to her after?” 

“Ahhh Sewoon. No I didn’t. She's probably asleep. I’m sure she’s alright.” Jungkook said nervously. “she better be. She’s not home either. I went there and no response” Sewoon said and Jungkook mind stopped working. What does she mean she's not home either? Did she really went out with some guy? She was never the one to behave like this. Only if she was --

“Jk are you listening to me? Can I come over to yours? Leaving Y/n aside for a bit, I thought we could have some fun I saw how stressed you were before. I want to help you shake it off a little, like old times”

Jungkook could only laugh to himself thinking how crazy he was when he said “I’m sorry Sewoon, not today. I’m tired and wanna get some rest okay? I'm sorry. If you get any info on Y/n, please tell me yeah? Just to be sure she really is okay. Sleep thigh"

Dropping his phone next to him, he turned the tv off, went to his bedroom, laid down and tried to find a way to sleep

----- 

Y/n called her manager the next morning asking for some days off, caliming she was having some personal issues and needed some time to fix them. The manager put no restraining to that, giving her a week off since she never missed work and was a great employee. She knew that too damn well.  She spent her life that goddamn coffee shop trying to earn every penny she could .

After drinking with Lisa and clean the mess they made she tried to get some sleep. Everytime she was about to close her eyes her phone screen would light up. She would look at it. Another notification from Jungkook and one in particular from Sewoon saying “you better had some fun tonight bitch because you leaving the club with someone else ruined my night. Jungkook lost his mind thinking you were in trouble. Call me up".

Y/n couldn’t help but sigh. Was her best friend always so self centered? How come she never noticed it? She turned her phone off and rolled over, finally being able to get some rest until she wakes up with a loud bang on the door and Lisa walking in full of excitement.  

“Good morning lady. Did you pack your stuff already? Pack warm things, a book or two, some pair of boots and lots of socks. We’re going to the snow. Oh and our flight is in about 5 hours. Hurry up”  

You didn’t know if you wanted to kill Lisa or thank her for being such a light in the middle of the storm going in your head and your heart. The next few hours were a rush. Between preparing things, buying others, organizing documents and being ready in time to go to the airport and checking in. In all this time, Y/n hasn't responded to either Sewoon or Jungkook. It was better this way. It was too much on her plate. A burden she had no need to carry.

After all the stress to get there on time they finally managed to sit down in their seats and recover from all the rush. Y/n wasn't definitely used to all of this. After a bit of silence she turned to Lisa and said  

"Jungkook called and texted me several times last night. And Sewoon too. It made me question the context of her text."  

“what do you mean?” Lisa questioned. 

"Basically she blamed me for ruinning her night with Jungkook after I left the club." Y/n retorded. Lisa opened her mouth but then closed it. Y/n wishes she had said what she was going to say, but instead she questioned "Did you answered any of them?" Y/n shakes her head "Good. These days we will have our phones turned off. No Jungkook, no Sewoon and no worries. Let's just have fun and create some badass memories. Deal?”

Y/n has to make sure that after all this mess gets better, to thank Lisa for everything she's been doing for her. Not that she hasn't already. She's so glad she came back into her life at a time like this. It made her compare Lisa to Sewoon. Where was Sewoon in the most difficult moments of your life?

"Deal"

A bit of sadness hits Y/n. She holds Lisa's hand and mouths "thank you" squeezing it tightly. You are going to get through this, like you managed before but this time with someone who truly cares and you couldn't be more relieved by it

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

@esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @11thenightwemet11 @jk97bam

[norrisainz33]

the call || platonic grid & gr63

☆ summary: y/n y/l/n gets a call up to race for alpine with 6 races left in the 2024 season and she’s got something to prove.

☆ pairing: platonic!grid x crush!george russell x rookie!female!reader

☆ fc & warnings: no fc. some hate comments and poor grammar on my end

☆ a/n: i was inspired by franco and liam getting called up to race for the remainder of the season and here we are. no hate to este bestie, just pretending dw. this is not supposed to be accurate to exactly how things have been playing out. smau mixed with writing!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, pierregasly, landonorris, georgerussell63, yourbff, ynupdates, and 867,234 others

f1: 🚨 breaking: y/n y/l/n will be racing under the number 95 for alpine for the remainder of the 2024 season alongside pierre gasly. y/n’s first race will be the united states grand prix. this is the first time since 1992 that a woman has raced in a grand prix format - this will be a historic weekend.

view all 1,234 comments

user1: this is the best thing to ever happen to me you don’t understand

pierregasly: ready to attack the rest of the season with you ynuser!!

ynuser: here’s to a strong finish 💪🏻

alpinef1team: we can’t wait to have our girl on track!

user12: they really think a woman is going to be any better than what they had??? please….

user1: oh you are miserable. get out of here

georgerussell63: epic! ynuser i am so proud of you

ynuser: 🤍 see you in austin

user2: i can’t believe im witnessing a woman f1 driver in my life time. i am crying real tears of joy

landonorris: from our karting days to f1. you are amazing ynuser! looking forward to being on track with you

ynuser: so glad to be racing with you again lando 🤍

user3: this is monumental

user6: we got a woman in f1 before gta6

✿

you sat in silence staring down at the paperwork in front of you. everyone had long since left returning to their duties, allowing you to process what you had just been told. “it’s really happening,” you whispered feeling tears welling in your eyes. you were about to become an f1 driver - a real life f1 driver!! and no, not just a reserve driver who did nothing but the sim all day every day. your shoulders sagged as you blew out a sigh. “it was all worth it,” you thought back to the years of blood, sweat and tears put into racing — from leaving the comfort of your childhood home to go karting in europe, to watching your parents give up everything to make sure your dreams came true, to finding yourself in f1 academy where you won the championship, to fighting for a chance to race in f2 and becoming the only woman to finish in the points - you had given everything to this sport and you were finally getting your chance.

you picked up your phone and dialed your best friend. “y/n? hi! did you have your meeting yet?!”

“i’m going to drive the rest of the season,” you said softly.

“WHAT?!” your best friend practically screamed into the other end of the phone.

“i’m taking the second alpine seat!!! im going to be starting in austin.” the tears of happiness started falling now.

“oh my god y/n/n!!!! YOU DID IT BABY YOU DID IT!” you could hear your best friend jumping up and down in excitement.

“i did it.”

✿

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user1: i can't explain to you how excited i am to see you on track this weekend y/n

pierregasly: jealous you got the media duties with the horses and not the american football team like i did.....

ynuser: HAHA idk why they didnt send us together

pierregasly: they knew our joint slay would be too much to handle

user7: as a young woman in a male dominated field... thank you for representing us. i love you and i am so proud of you

yourbff: my flight lands in exactly 1 hour and i am shaking with excitement

ynuser: if you think you're shaking with excitement you should see me... just got word im in the pre race press conference with george and max v......... pray for me girl

yourbff: okok we knew this was going to happen. of course they'll want to talk to you!! you're the new face on the grid

ynuser: is it bad to admit im afraid?

yourbff: admitting you’re afraid just means you’re human y/n. you're allowed to feel

ynuser: idk what i'd do with out you

yourbff: you'll never have to know! now go get ready!! i'll be there just in enough time to make the conference start.

yourbff: p.s your media day fit absolutely ate that dress and the cowgirl hat was lethal. f1 should be thanking you for being such a baddie

georgerussell63: howdy ms y/n

ynuser: howdy georgie --- see you at the press conference 🙂‍↔️

georgerussell63: looking forward to it

landonorris: NEIGHHHH

ynuser: lando?

landonorris: sorry was pretending to be one of those horses so you'd pay attention to me

ynuser: hahahahaha you muppet. ive missed you

landonorris: i missed you too y/n/n! believe it or not i miss fighting it out on track with you too. ready to smoke ya just like i did in our karting days

ynuser: i mean you are in a mclaren and have a lot of practice so id certainly hope you were faster than me

landonorris: well when you put it like that its not as fun.......

user9: bought an alpine hat and am bedazzling a shirt with your name on it as we speak

✿

the alpine pr team had wasted no time sitting you down as soon as you got to austin. they ran through what to expect from your media duties, how to respond to any and all questions that might be thrown your way and how to save face if needed but somehow as you sat down on the iconic white couch and looked out at the crowd of reporters forming in front of you, you felt all of that training start to fail you. the nerves were taking over as george and max took their spots to your right. you were thankful when the british driver gave you a reassuring smile and a slight nod letting you know it was ok.

"good afternoon and welcome to the 2024 united states grand prix!" the interviewer beamed at the camera before turning his attention to the three of you. "today we are joined by max verstappen, george russell and formula 1's newest driver, y/n y/l/n."

the interviewer started by asking max about the championship and how he was feeling about lando continuing to close the gap. you used that time to steady your breathing, knowing a question was headed your way at any moment. "y/n, first of all, i want to say congratulations!" the interviewer grinned and you smiled back. "you are coming into this season with only 6 races left and a rather tall order to get up to speed quickly for some points and fight for a seat on the grid in 2025. how are you feeling about it all?"

you sighed, relieved at an easy first question, "thank you! i'm trying to take it all in stride. it's definitely a tall order because these guys have had 19 races to get a feel for their cars, work with their teams, and solidify their standings… i'm going to have exactly one free practice to learn everything before heading into sprint qualifying and i think that puts me a little bit on the back foot. though, i am more confident than ever that i can pull out some points and finish this season strong for alpine."

the interviewer nodded along intently as you spoke, "do you think being the first female in formula 1 since 1992 also puts you a bit on the back foot?"

this. this was the type of question you were dreading. you knew what it was like to be questioned about your skills purely because you were a woman, it had been happening throughout your entire life but that didn't mean it still didn't get to you. you picked your mic back up but before you could say anything into it, george was already speaking, "i don't think thats a fair question to ask. her being a woman has nothing to do with her racing, let us not forget that she is here for a reason. y/n has an incredibly impressive resume and i'd be happy to recite it for you if you need the reminder."

*george fcking russell. the man that you are* you thought as a smirk formed on your face. "thank you george," you said managing to keep your voice steady as you continued, "i don't think being a woman puts me on the back foot at all. it's 2024 - i think we're past the point of asking questions like this. I may be the first woman in way too long to race in a grand prix but i certainly will not be the last." you put the microphone down, daring the interviewer to say something in return but instead he turned his attention back to max and kept it there for the remainder of the session which you weren't mad about at all.

✿

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team, georgerussell63, francolapinto, carlossainz55, charlesleclerc and 743,937 others

ynuser: p9 baby!!!!!! i scored two points!!!! cota - thank you for the love and for an incredible first weekend in formula 1. i will never forget you 🤍

view all 1,987 comments

user9: best weekend of my life!!!! first gp i’ve ever been to and i got to meet you at the fan zone!! i couldn’t have asked for more

alpinef1team: try not to say goat challenge failed

ynuser: 🤍🩷

user10: i sobbed watching you cross the line

pierregasly: points points points points

ynuser: you next bestie!!

pierregasly: we’re going to both score big this triple header i just know it

user13: i love how these two have become instant friends. i hope alpine doesn’t split my family up in abu dhabi

user44: history - we’re watching you make history

francisca.cgomes: i don’t think you understand how attached i am to you now y/n

ynuser: and i don’t think you understand how much i love you kika. legally you have to come to all the rest of the races please and thank you

francisca.cgomes: for you? done!

pierregasly: um? hello?

ynuser: im sorry p.. look away

yourbff: i have no words. i love you more than life itself

ynuser: i love you - thank you for being there

landonorris: statement MADE

ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

georgerussell63: i’m so proud of you im about to openly weep

ynuser: we can openly weep together

carlossainz55: congrats y/n!

ynuser: thank you carlos 🤍

francolapinto: viva y/n!

ynuser: viva franco!

lewishamilton: 🤍🤍

ynuser: 🩷🩷

user15: noticing so many of the drivers here supporting her is everything

user4: and the fact that so many of them are praising her efforts and talking so highly of her in interviews 🥹

user15: everyone loves her (except for the rbr duo, did you see her and checo having words after that race?)

user4: omg yeah grandpa was pissed but honestly he’s probably just worried she’s going to take his seat

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user9: pretty, talented, smart … you’re the whole package

landonorris: hell yeah it does. the car will be here in about an hour! meet us in the lobby?

ynuser: yes!! assuming we shouldn’t come down too early since we run the risk of people being down there?

landonorris: yeah, no more than 5 mins before

user10: hottest person on the grid no doubt

georgerussell63: blimey i’m excited

ynuser: me too! i need a drink after this weekend

georgerussell63: you better get used to it y/n! this is your life now

ynuser: and i’m glad it is 🤍

user14: i think i have a crush on you

oscarpiastri: hi

ynuser: hi oscar!! did lando send you the details for tonight?

oscarpiastri: yes he did!

pierregasly: me and kika are ready to GO

ynuser: me and y/bff are too! let’s get this party started

user11: keep this momentum going into mexico y/n!!

user4: we needed a chronically online it girl in this sport so bad im so glad you’re here

✿

george poured you another glass of champagne as you giggled, "i should really be sick of champagne by now but i don't know that i ever will be."

"well thats good y/n/n! you're going to be drinking a lot more of it soon enough," george said loud enough that you could hear him over the music. the club was packed with more people than you would've expected for sunday evening especially a sunday evening in texas but here you were in a packed club chugging champagne with old and new friends. oscar, lily, carlos, rebecca, lando, george, pierre, kika, franco, charles and alex all came out with you and y/bff and you were honestly a bit shocked by the turn out. though you should've known that lando and george were not going to let you celebrate by yourself.

you had grown up with the two of them on the karting track and you even managed to be in f2 in the same year george won the championship. they meant a lot to you -- you looked up to them since the start so to have their unwavering support now that you made it to f1 meant more than you could express. none of this was going to be easy but being surrounded by a strong support system would make it a lot less painful.

you smiled up at george as he downed the last bit of his cocktail, intently watching as the last little bit dripped from the side of his mouth. you took a big gulp reminding yourself of the room of people around you. that was another thing that was around since your karting days... your massive crush on george. while you both had seen other people between now and then, there was no doubt that it was still alive and well. but as far as that was concerned, it was a bit of a one sided crush. it's not that george had ever told you outright that he wasn't interested, you just never had the guts to tell him and he only ever made one move and has been ignoring that it happened since. the closest you two ever got to something more than friends was the night after he won the f2 championship. you two were inseparable during that season so when he asked you to come with him back to his hotel room after his massive party, you didn't think twice about it. you two flopped down onto the bed with your takeaway meal fresh in front of you and the tv turned on to some animated movie you couldn't remember the name of. george was sitting close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body from where he gently was resting against yours. "y/n/n," he whispered causing you to look up at him, "i love you." you smiled, having heard him say this many times.. he was your best friend after all. "I love you too!" you responded and before you could process what happened, his lips were on yours. and unfortunately for you, thats about where that ended. george realized what he was doing and absolutely panicked, begged you to forgive him and to not talk about it again so thats what you did. but on nights like this one, where he was looking fine as ever... it was hard not to long for him.

"helllooooooo earth to y/n!!!" lando almost shouted pulling you out of your thoughts.

"yes, yes! hi!" you rolled your eyes taking the drink out of his hand.

the rest of the night passed in a blur of celebrations, laughs and champagne. things were looking up and you couldn't be more excited for what the future held for you. you had done it. your dream had come true.

✿

alpinef1team has made a post

liked by pierregasly, ynuser, judebellingham, taylorzahkarperez, landonorris, georgerussell63, yourbff, yoursibling, and 546,123 others

alpinef1team: 1 down. 2 to go. mexico city, here we come!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: omg if you made it this far... thank you for reading!!! likes and reblogs are massively appreciated. i'm thinking of making this a series with y/n racing in the last few races of the season. if you liked this, let me know so i can judge if this will get a part 2!! much love 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[cyren-myadd]

Nobody talks about Kiri's role in Neytiri and Spider's bad relationship...

I know Neytiri and Spider's relationship has been talked about to death already, but there's one important aspect of it everyone seems to overlook that I want to write down all my thoughts about: Kiri's role.

(Just FYI The High Ground comics are explicitly confirmed to be canon by Avatar's creative team, so please don't try to tell me something's not true because it happened in the comics)

With everything Neytiri has been through, it's understandable that she'd feel uncomfortable with Quaritch's son spending so much time around her children to the point where he starts calling them his "siblings." Contrary to what I've heard others say, Neytiri does not have a "blind hatred" towards Spider. She doesn't want him to be hurt or killed, she just wants him to stay away from her family and mind his own business. From her perspective, an "invader" is acting like he's entitled to being around her family and claiming them as his own, the same family that has been hurt so badly by other "invaders." This perceived entitlement coupled with the fact that he's the son of the guy who thought he was entitled to destroy her homeland is what gives her such strong feelings about Spider compared to the other Na'vi-allied humans.

But is Spider's behavior towards Neytiri's family really entitlement like Neytiri thinks or is it something else? Let's look at why Spider does the things he does:

Why does Spider spend so much time with the Sully kids? Kiri and Lo'ak invite him. From what we see in the movie and the comics, Kiri and Lo'ak don't seem to have any friends before meeting Tsireya and Rotxo, which means Spider is not just their best friend, but their only friend. There is nothing about Spider, Kiri, and Lo'ak's dynamic that implies Spider is the only one seeking them out. They mutually seek each others' company because they all feel like outcasts among their respective species.

Why does Spider call the Sully kids his siblings? Kiri started calling him her brother first. In vol 1 of THG, Kiri tells Spider he's like another brother to her. Shortly after this is when Spider starts referring to the Sully kids as his family. Since Spider has no biological family and a bad relationship with his foster family, it's understandable he would latch onto the people who actually care for him and explicitly say they feel like he's their family member.

Why does Spider insert himself into the Omaticaya? Kiri insists he joins them. in Vol 1 of THG, Spider is present for a Na'vi celebration and Neytiri asks him to leave because he's not a part of their family. Spider is perfectly okay with this and he starts to excuse himself, but Kiri stops him and insists he stay because he is a part of their family. Later, in Vol 2 of THG, the Sullies and the Omaticaya are evacuating to High Camp while Spider's foster family and most of the other humans choose to surrender to the RDA. Spider is initially upset and begs Jake to come with them, but after Jake scolds him, Spider accepts the adults' choice and willingly stays in Hell's Gate, waiting to surrender to the RDA. Kiri, on the other hand, insists Spider come with them to High Camp and goes back for him. This results in Kiri, Lo'ak, and Tuk getting captured by Spider's foster dad and Spider needing to rescue them. In both of these instances, when Spider is told he's unwelcome somewhere, he is okay with it and backs off, but Kiri is the one who fights for him to stay. The only instance where Spider insists he has a right to stay of his own volition is when Jake asks him to turn himself into the RDA soldiers hunting them after Spider helped the Sully kids escape his foster father. Since the RDA likely would've imprisoned, tortured, or even killed Spider for helping the valuable hostages escape, Spider's insistence he stay with the Sullies is completely understandable.

Why does Spider paint himself blue and emulate the Na'vi lifestyle? Kiri again. The only time we see Spider applying his stripes on screen, Kiri is right there helping him. From this we can assume that Kiri and possibly also Lo'ak regularly help Spider apply his stripes since he wouldn't be able to paint his back without help. And while we don't have exact information on when Spider started wearing a loincloth and behaving like a Na'vi, I think we can safely assume Kiri and her siblings are the ones who encouraged this behavior.

After analyzing the origins of what Neytiri perceives as "entitlement," it becomes clear it's not really entitlement at all. Spider never does something he has not been "invited" to do by Kiri or Lo'ak. Spider is not trying to cross any boundaries and he's not trying to hurt anyone; he's just a lonely orphan who has latched onto the only people who show him real care.

From Spider's perspective, Neytiri hates him for no reason other than his dad. In actuality, Neytiri's strong feelings aren't just about who is dad is, but moreso about the way he behaves on top of who his dad is. Neytiri doesn't have a "blind hatred" for him like Spider believes, but she has a deep trauma-rooted discomfort with his proximity to her family in the context of his heritage, and this discomfort makes her lash out at him. But of course Spider doesn't understand this because he's A. a teenage boy with limited emotional intelligence and B. has no reason to think there's anything wrong with his behavior because Kiri and Lo'ak encourage it so enthusiastically. With Spider's limited understanding, it makes sense that he chalks up Neytiri's behavior as "she hates me!"

So we have these two wildly different perspectives. Neytiri views Spider as an entitled invader and she doesn't understand why he can't just leave her family alone, and Spider views Neytiri as a cruel woman who judges him for his heritage and he can't understand why she can't just let him hang out with his "siblings" in peace. When these two different perspectives clash, it gets ugly, and leads to scenes like the time Neytiri lunged at Spider (to attack him? shake him? it's unclear) and Spider yelling at Neytiri and blaming her for his situation (which is really Quaritch's fault for making his postpartum mother fight).

Then we have Kiri's perspective. Kiri loves her mother and her best friend, but doesn't seem to understand why her mom doesn't want her best friend around and she also doesn't seem to understand why her best friend thinks her mom hates him. In vol 1 of THG, she even tells Spider that Neytiri loves him. Ironically, even though Kiri clearly wants her mom and her best friend to get along, she is inadvertently the source of most of their issues. In all the instances where Spider's behavior makes Neytiri upset, we can trace the behavior back to Kiri as outlined in the bullet points above. The more Kiri pushes for Spider to stay close, the more it triggers Neytiri trauma, the more Neytiri lashes out Spider, the more Spider thinks she hates him, and the closer Kiri gets to Spider to comfort him and try and prove him wrong. It's a vicious cycle.

And just to be clear, I'm not trying to say Kiri is at fault for Neytiri and Spider's relationship. Kiri and Spider are just kids with little understanding of the trauma Neytiri has been through. They just know they enjoy spending time with each other, and neither of them fully understand why it makes Neytiri so upset. Neytiri, on the other hand, is not a kid... she is not responsible for her trauma and for her negative feelings towards Spider, but she is responsible for her behavior towards him.

The one thing I don't understand is why neither Neytiri nor Jake nipped Kiri's behavior in the bud before it got to the point where it is now. If Kiri keeps calling Spider her brother and insisting he stay for family celebrations, and it's obviously very upsetting to Neytiri, why did neither of her parents sit her down and let her know its inappropriate? Spider was clearly okay with being left out of the events. If they'd talked about it with Kiri, they would've avoided all that strife in the first place. Hell, Spider wouldn't even be around them anymore because he would've surrendered to the RDA and lived in Bridgehead if not for Kiri insisting he come with them!

And actually, why didn't they stop the kids from spending so much time together in the first place? Neytiri was telling Jake she didn't like Spider around her kids since they were very little. Why did they continue to let them play together if it made her so uncomfortable? Was Jake letting it happen behind her back? Were the kids sneaking away to play with Spider? Did Neytiri let it happen because she thought they would grow out of it or something? At that age, parents have a lot of control over their kids lives, and I don't understand why Neytiri didn't just redirect her kids to play with anyone other than Spider if it upset her so much. In THG, Neytiri threatened to ban Spider from seeing Kiri, but she did it way too late. The kids were teenagers at that point and already saw each other as family, so if she tried to separate them they would've just snuck out and seen each other anyway. If Neytiri is okay with putting a "ban" on Spider, why did she wait until they were teens and much more difficult to control to do so?

I know the "real" answer is because James Cameron wants ✨DRAMA✨ but I'm wondering if there's an in-universe explanation cause it just doesn't make sense to me. I guess the most realistic answer is that Jake let it happen knowing full well Neytiri didn't like it, but he let it slide anyway because he didn't want to say no to the kids. Jake had two choices. He could've A. honored Neytiri's wishes and separated the children before they bonded or B. sat down with Neytiri and let her know Spider is here to stay and that she can't lash out at him. Either choice would've resulted in a much better outcome for everyone involved, but then again, it would've had a lot less drama so I understand why the writers didn't have that happen instead. Actually, now that I'm typing it out, it is pretty in character for Jake to ignore a giant problem right in front of him and hope it'll go away on it's own (that's how we lost Hometree, Eytukan, and Neteyam rip). I guess we're going to see this situation blow up in Jake's face in Avatar 3, just like his other ignore-the-problem-and-hope-it-goes-away situations did. I just hope that this situation will have a better outcome for everyone involved.

It just frustrates me because I feel like all this could've been resolved years ago if Jake and Neytiri had sat Kiri and Spider down and had a discussion about boundaries, but there's too much bad blood between Neytiri and Spider for an easy resolution now...

Anyways, if you made it this far, thanks for reading, didn't mean to turn this into a whole essay lol. Please share your thoughts with me if you have any!

[so-idialed-9]

It's been over two weeks since Liam, and I'm...still not that OK. And I don't know if I will be. It hit me so much harder than I imagined. It still feels like we are in the wrong universe. This never should have happened. So this is just a rant about how I am feeling, in case you are feeling it too. Please, don't forget Liam. And don't let hangers-on steal his truth again.

I find relief and joy seeing videos and photos of Liam, or reading fanfiction about him. Thinking of him as joyful and silly and complex and loved and having challenges he can triumph over...we should never lose that. I never want him to be erased. I'm glad that wasn't stolen from us.

Seeing the fandom come back together, new people fall in love with Liam, and Directioners not let his entire life story be simplified or tragically recast or the bullshit narrative they tried to place on him, has been mixed.

On one hand, I'm deeply grateful Directioners were cultivated to analyze the shit out of PR-spun industry bullshit and know exactly how to undermine it LOUDLY. Without that, the sloppy, contradictory, false narrative about Liam would've been fully accepted. And now it never will be no matter how hard they try.

But I'm also sad because I would give anything for Liam to have had five minutes in a world that openly adored him as much as he deserved. See him bashful and glowing as people raved about his voice, dance moves, leadership, songwriting abilities...his warm eyes and cuddly affection and kindness to so. many. people.

I feel rage thinking about how Liam was FUCKING TELLING THE TRUTH about everything. He told the truth when he said the band was formed around him, that Simon promised him. He told the truth about leading the band - ten seconds of watching This Is Us shows that. He told the truth about Zayn's lack of parental support especially from his father, which must've impacted him severely. He told the truth about the industry and what he lived through. And people unfollowed and laughed at him, made him into a joke, but he was telling the truth the whole time.

And now, my biggest fear is that we could lose another member. I'm very worried about Zayn but almost afraid to not worry about the others as much. I know that all my worry isn't helping anyone and that feels worse, that there's nothing I can do.

And I fear that soon, people will stop paying attention and forget him all over again. Or let his story get swallowed up by people who never did anything but opportunistically live off of him.

[slytherinsmuse]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Between Us | Draco Malfoy ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of smoking, not proofread, characters are 18+

Summary: Fluff | A secret kiss with Draco turns into scandalous rumor.

Word count: 6496

author's note: I wrote this a while ago and it has been sitting in my docs forever. Hope you enjoy, it is quite tame. I love Pansy but had to use her negatively for this lol.

The Slytherin common room buzzed with quiet, crackling energy, the kind of whispered tension that always followed a Sorting Ceremony. Shadows flickered along the walls, cast by greenish firelight as the newly sorted students settled into their house. Yet, for you, the warmth of the room felt far from welcoming.You sat alone on a plush, emerald-green couch near the edge of the common room, attempting to focus on the shifting patterns in the fireplace. But despite your best efforts, the constant hum of whispered voices and stolen glances in your direction kept pulling you back to reality.

They all knew.

The rumor had spread like fiendfyre, whispered from ear to ear as though it were some priceless secret. Draco Malfoy and you—seen in a compromising position over the summer, tucked away from prying eyes but apparently not hidden well enough. A secret kiss. Hands in places they shouldn’t have been, displays of affection best suited for the privacy of a room, or at least, that’s how the story had been embellished.You knew exactly where they’d all heard it—from Pansy Parkinson. After all, she had opened her mouth as soon as students had set foot on the train to Hogwarts.

Pansy had always been a thorn in your side, though not by your choice. You weren’t even sure what you’d done to earn her ire; you hardly gave her much thought, and yet she never missed a chance to remind you of her presence. Maybe it was the fact that you had never bent to her snide remarks, or maybe it was that Draco would, on rare occasions, acknowledge you—a simple greeting, an offhand comment about class, a carefully crafted compliment from time to time. Nothing you’d ever taken to mean more, but it had clearly gotten under Pansy’s skin.

For Pansy, it was more than rivalry; it was a personal mission to best you, even if you had never actually joined the game.

And this time, she’d gone out of her way to humiliate you. You were certain she hadn’t just “let it slip” like she claimed. No, she had fed the rumor, stoking it into something larger and more scandalous than it actually was. She’d likely watched with satisfaction as the story spread from person to person until it was whispered in every corridor, every corner of the Slytherin dungeon. The scandal was all anyone could talk about, a new shiny present for the first day of school. Pansy had taken a single, hidden moment and transformed it into a spectacle—a kiss that wasn’t meant for anyone else’s eyes or ears, a small sliver of warmth you’d never expected to find. But now, that moment was tangled with the bitterness of betrayal, tainted by Pansy’s scheming. The entire school knew what had happened that night, twisted by Pansy’s jealousy into something cheap and tawdry.

And the worst part? She was watching you, even now, smirking from across the room, clearly basking in the havoc she’d sown. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but inside, anger simmered low and steady. She might have won this round, but she didn’t know everything. The real memory—the feeling of his hand on yours, the brief escape that had led to that kiss—belonged only to you and Draco.

You could almost hear her voice behind every stare—a hint of triumph mixed with resentment, the sound of it dripping with thinly veiled bitterness. Ever since, everyone seemed to be watching you, judging you, eager to see if the rumors would continue to spark. Just then, the common room door creaked open, and a familiar figure strode in.

Draco Malfoy.

He scanned the room, his gaze as icy and unreadable as ever. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours across the crowded room. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—something unspoken, something only you would understand. You weren’t sure if it was regret, amusement, or something else altogether. But before you could even think to react, he turned away, breaking the moment as quickly as it had begun. He crossed the room with his usual elegance, coolly ignoring the whispers, the glances, the tension that only he and you seemed to fully understand. You took a shaky breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and looked back into the fire, your mind already drifting to that night at Malfoy Manor, where it had all begun.

~~~

The grand, looming gates of Malfoy Manor opened before you, casting an intimidating shadow over the path as you arrived with your parents. You stayed close to them, more out of obligation than comfort, knowing that if it were up to you, you’d be anywhere but here. Official gatherings like these always felt stifling—a room full of people dressed in their finest suits and gowns, exchanging veiled pleasantries and flaunting their wealth in subtle but pointed ways. You were expected to fit right in, to play the part as seamlessly as they did. But the truth was, you hated every second of it.It wasn’t that you resented your family or your status—it was simply exhausting. The endless social games, the forced politeness, and the insincerity of it all wore on you, weighing you down like a set of invisible chains. But that was the cost of your family name, and like it or not, you were bound by it.

As you stepped through the manor’s doors and into the grand entrance hall, you plastered on the same polite smile you always wore at these events. Elegant tapestries lined the walls, and every surface gleamed with an almost exaggerated richness, reminding you of the status that the Malfoys prided themselves on. Tonight, they were hosting, and every detail was perfect, as it always was. The hosts themselves awaited just beyond the doorway: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, flanked by their son, Draco. Your parents greeted them first, exchanging the usual pleasantries with voices dipped in formal tones, before it was your turn.

“Lovely to see you again,” Narcissa said, her voice smooth and gracious, as if she’d rehearsed it a hundred times.

“Thank you for inviting us,” you replied, inclining your head politely, catching Draco’s gaze just for a second. His expression was as reserved as ever, though you thought you detected a flicker of boredom in his eyes—something you could relate to.

With the greetings over, you politely excused yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the bar. If you were going to make it through this night, a drink was essential. A firewhiskey, to be precise. As you reached the bar, you nodded to the bartender and murmured your order. The firewhiskey appeared before you almost instantly, amber liquid glistening in the dim candlelight. You took a long sip, feeling its warmth spread through you—a small comfort in an otherwise dreary evening.

You glanced around, watching the crowd move and mingle. People laughed, their voices tinkling like crystals, but you could sense the undercurrent of calculation behind every word. Families like yours, bound by tradition and expectations, each with their own reputation to uphold. You couldn’t imagine spending the entire evening like this, dancing around meaningless small talk with people who barely saw you beyond your family name.

With your drink in hand, you headed towards an empty couch tucked along the side of the room, half-hidden behind a potted tree with sprawling, leafy branches. It looked comfortable enough, and more importantly, it was out of the way—far from the watchful eyes of your family and the eager whispers of the guests who always seemed far too interested in every move you made.

You crossed the room quietly, weaving through clusters of people, careful not to draw attention. When you finally reached the couch, you sank into it with a relieved sigh, grateful for the brief reprieve. From here, you had a clear view of the dance floor, which was filled with couples swaying to the soft music drifting through the room. The dim lighting gave the scene a kind of dreamy, almost surreal quality.

The last thing you wanted was to be dragged out onto that floor, under the scrutinizing gaze of the entire ballroom. Your family was notorious for presenting you at events like this, encouraging you to mingle and, worse, dance with any boy they deemed suitable. It wasn’t about you, of course; it was about appearances, about showing that the heir of the Y/L/N family was sociable, poised, a proper pure-blood with all the right qualities.

But you didn’t care about any of that. You despised the dances, despised the forced politeness and the looks that always followed you as you were paraded around. People here seemed to watch you as if you were some sort of rare creature—a curiosity to be studied and judged. It felt suffocating, like you couldn’t move without someone taking notice, without someone passing silent judgement.

All you wanted was to make it through the evening with the fewest interactions possible.

Sipping the last of your firewhiskey, you leaned back into the couch, hoping you could remain here, unnoticed and undisturbed. You kept a careful eye on the dance floor, looking out for any sign of your parents. If they noticed you here, alone and sitting out the dance, they’d undoubtedly “introduce” you to some eligible heir from another pure-blood family. It was their favorite tactic to keep up appearances, and you dreaded the moment it might happen tonight.

As you watched, the dancers spun and swayed under the dim glow of the chandeliers, laughter and idle chatter filling the air. The perfect picture of refined elegance. But you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of restlessness, the sense that you didn’t belong in this world of masks and formalities. You yearned to slip out, to find a corner of the manor where you could breathe without the weight of everyone’s expectations.

You glanced to the side, and for a moment, you thought you saw a familiar face watching you from across the room. Draco, leaning casually against the wall near the dance floor, his gaze fixed on you. He seemed to be in a similar predicament, observing the crowd with a mixture of disdain and detachment. And, if you weren’t mistaken, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as they met yours.

He smirked, raising his glass in a silent toast, as if acknowledging the shared struggle of enduring an evening like this. You allowed yourself a small smile, nodding back, appreciating the rare moment of understanding.

But just as you were about to settle back into the couch, you caught sight of your mother in the distance, scanning the room—her gaze already narrowing in on you, and you had a sinking feeling she had someone in mind to “introduce” you to. You quickly turned away, hoping she might be distracted by another guest before she reached you, silently praying that you could just stay hidden in your quiet corner.

The last thing you needed tonight was to be pulled into the crowd, forced into more polite interactions, or worse—a dance.

Just as you’d feared, your mother was making a beeline toward you, her arm linked with that of none other than Gregory Goyle. Fantastic. Of all the people she could have chosen, she had to bring him over. Goyle wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but he was far from your idea of ideal company. Throughout school, you’d barely spoken beyond the occasional forced interaction in Potions, and you both had an unspoken agreement to keep out of each other’s way. But tonight, it seemed that the silent truce was about to be tested.

“Y/N,” your mother said with a broad, practiced smile, “I thought you might like to meet young Mr. Goyle. He’s been telling me about his plans for the future, and I thought it would be nice for the two of you to catch up.” Her eyes were expectant, practically daring you to say something pleasant.

You forced a polite smile, nodding at Goyle, who looked equally uncomfortable, his collar slightly too tight and his expression blank as ever.

“Nice to see you, Goyle” you managed, hoping that a few words would satisfy your mother.

But of course, she wasn’t finished. “I was just telling him how much you enjoy dancing.” she continued, her gaze shifting between you and Goyle with thinly veiled encouragement. “I’m sure you’d love a dance with him.”

Your stomach twisted as you imagined the stilted, silent dance that would inevitably follow. A dance with Goyle was the last thing you wanted, and you opened your mouth to politely decline, scrambling for any excuse that wouldn’t offend him or your mother.

Just then, a voice cut smoothly into the conversation. “Actually, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Draco said, his tone impeccably polite, “Y/N has already promised me the first dance.”

You turned, surprised but profoundly relieved to see Draco standing there with an easy, confident smile. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, and you caught the faintest flicker of mischief in his gaze. He offered his hand to you, waiting with the quiet assurance of someone who knew he would not be refused.

Your mother looked taken aback for a second, her plan clearly derailed. But she recovered quickly, nodding with approval. “Well, isn’t that lovely,” she said, her gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of satisfaction. “Go on, then. Don’t let me keep you.”

You took Draco’s hand, internally cursing the fact that you now had to dance but still relieved to have avoided Goyle. As he led you toward the dance floor, you leaned in, muttering under your breath, “Thanks for that. I thought I was doomed.”

Draco chuckled softly, his hand settling around your waist as he guided you into the first steps of the waltz. “I figured you might need rescuing,” he replied, his voice low. “Besides, you looked like you’d rather disappear than dance with Goyle.”

“You’re right about that,” you admitted, feeling the warmth of his hand on your waist, the steady grip as he led you effortlessly across the floor. “But dancing’s not exactly my idea of fun either.”

He raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “I didn’t think you were the type to hate dancing.”

“It’s not the dancing I hate,” you muttered, glancing around at the people watching you—some with curiosity, others with envy. “It’s the audience.”

Draco smirked, steering you through the dance with ease. “Then ignore them. Just focus on me.”

You scoffed but allowed yourself to meet his gaze, letting the room around you blur into the background. It was easier said than done, but somehow, with his steadying presence, you found yourself relaxing, if only a little.

The music swelled around you, and for a few moments, you forgot about the crowd, the whispers, and the endless expectations pressing in from all sides. The world narrowed down to just you and Draco, moving in sync across the dance floor.

When the music finally slowed to a close, you realized you hadn’t once looked away from him. He released you with a small, almost reluctant smile, offering a polite bow as he stepped back.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and laced with something unreadable. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “No… it wasn’t,” you murmured, feeling a bit of relief now that the dance was over. “But I’d rather not repeat it.”

Draco’s expression shifted slightly, a faint shadow crossing his face as he straightened up, his grip loosening just a bit. “Ah,” he said coolly, his tone clipped. “I’ll make sure not to inconvenience you next time.”

You blinked, realizing he’d misread your meaning. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you shook your head, amused at the unexpected flash of offense in his expression. “I didn’t mean you,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his arm to guide him away from the crowd. “I meant this whole… production.”

Draco’s face softened, and his smirk returned, the brief flash of irritation fading from his gaze. “Ah, well, in that case, allow me to make it up to you.” He inclined his head, leading you through the crowd and back toward the bar. “How about a drink to ease the suffering?”

You laughed softly. “Now that,” you said, settling beside him at the bar, “I won’t turn down.”

He ordered two firewhiskeys, and as the bartender slid the glasses across the polished counter, Draco raised his in a quiet toast. “To surviving our families and insufferable company.”

You clinked your glass against his, smiling. “You know, for the record, I actually like your company from time to time.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking pleasantly surprised. “Is that so? I suppose I’ll take that as a rare compliment.”

“Take it however you like,” you replied, amused. “But consider it a thank you for saving me back there.”

He chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Anytime,” he said, with a hint of something playful in his voice. “After all, we seem to be the only sane ones here tonight.”

You both settled into comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and watching the ballroom from your secluded corner. The firewhiskey was beginning to warm you from the inside, dulling the sharp edges of the night. You felt a slight buzz, a touch more adventurous than you’d felt before. You swirled your glass, savoring the last sip as you casually scanned the room once again.

That’s when you spotted Draco’s usual crowd huddled together near one of the large windows. Theodore, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Blaise—all laughing and chatting, oblivious to anyone else. Pansy, however, seemed to be the exception. Every few moments, she cast a glance your way, her lips curling in a faint smirk whenever she caught sight of you and Draco sitting together.

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to Draco. He was watching the room with a quiet sort of ease, the ghost of a smirk still lingering on his face. You could see the way his gaze occasionally drifted over to his friends, yet he hadn’t made any move to join them. Instead, he remained here with you, seemingly content in your quiet corner, away from the crowd.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself glancing at him, trying to read the expression on his face. “Not to sound ungrateful,” you said, breaking the silence, “but aren’t your friends waiting for you?”

Draco tilted his head, meeting your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “What, you mean that insufferable company?” he replied with a smirk, echoing his earlier toast. “Believe me, I’m doing myself a favor. I will see them enough in school next month.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Fair enough, but I’m sure Pansy would disagree. She’s been shooting daggers at me since we sat down.”

Draco’s smirk widened, and he took a casual sip of his drink. “Pansy’s always shooting daggers at someone. If it weren’t you, it would be Daphne or some poor soul she deemed unworthy.” He shrugged, his gaze drifting back to you, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. “Maybe tonight I just prefer the company here.”

His words sent a spark of warmth through you, and you found yourself meeting his gaze, letting the silence between you linger a bit longer than necessary. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I can’t say I mind. You’ve turned this night around a bit.”

Draco’s expression softened, and he leaned back, his gaze steady on yours. “Glad to be of service. It’s not every day I get to rescue a damsel from Goyle and the horrors of small talk.”

You laughed softly, feeling the edges of your reluctance and guardedness soften under the gentle buzz of the firewhiskey and Draco’s rare warmth. You weren’t exactly close with Draco—not in the way his friends were, and certainly not like Pansy always tried to be. Your families, though, had always maintained a certain closeness. Enough that you’d spent more than a few summer afternoons and winter evenings together over the years, learning to enjoy each other’s company in a way that felt natural outside the halls of Hogwarts.

In the tightly woven social fabric of Hogwarts,however,  you each belonged to your own worlds. He had his crowd, and you had yours. You only really crossed paths at the occasional party, or when forced together on a school project. Not that you minded. Draco was pleasant enough company, and you’d never deny that he was easy on the eyes. Not that you have ever thought about pursuing something with him. After the mess of your last relationship, you’d made a rule for yourself: no more romantic entanglements while at Hogwarts. It wasn’t worth the drama and the endless complications. Word had gotten around, of course, as it always did. It wasn’t long before people knew you were unreachable. Boys who once might have tried to chat you up quickly learned that you weren’t interested. You liked it that way; it was simpler, cleaner, and it meant you didn’t have to deal with the annoyances that had come with your last relationship.

But tonight… well, tonight was different. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was the way Draco was looking at you now, his usual cool exterior softening as he took you in. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly was going through his mind.

“You look beautiful,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. “I rarely see you so formal. It’s… a welcome change.”

A faint blush crept into your cheeks, and you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes. “Can’t say the same about you,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I mean you’re always dashing in these black suits. But you always seem to be wearing them. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

He smirked, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with a casual elegance that only seemed to amplify his charm. “Not everyone can pull off the classic look,” he said smoothly. “But I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You shook your head, amused by his confidence. “You would.”

Draco leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “I mean it, though. You should dress up more often.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’d be home in my favorite old t-shirt.”

“Ah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you like this,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. There was a glint in his eyes, something warm and unexpectedly genuine that caught you off guard.

For a moment, you held his gaze, the soft glow of the firewhiskey warming you in more ways than one. You felt a flutter of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time, a whisper of possibility you’d long sworn off. But just as quickly, you reminded yourself of your own rule—the boundary you’d set for yourself, the reason you were so guarded in the first place.

Still, you allowed yourself a small smile, letting the moment linger a second longer than necessary. “Enjoy it while it lasts, then,” you said, your voice light but your heart suddenly a little heavier.

Draco smirked, lifting his glass in a quiet toast. “Trust me—I intend to.”

A comfortable silence settled between you both, the kind that felt oddly intimate. Neither of you needed to fill it with idle chatter, and yet, the quiet left you with a strange sense of anticipation that made your heart race just a little faster.

After a few moments, you excused yourself, mumbling something about needing the bathroom. Really, you just needed a moment alone—to calm your nerves and shake off the slight fluster that Draco had somehow managed to provoke in you. His words, his appearance, the way he was looking at you… It was unsettling in the most unexpected way, breaking through that carefully constructed barrier you’d kept around yourself for so long.

You took a few deep breaths as you leaned over the sink, splashing a bit of cool water on your hands and pressing your fingertips to your temples. ‘Get a grip’ you told yourself, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. After a moment, you straightened, adjusted your silk gown, and composed yourself as best as you could before heading back out.

But as you opened the door, you found Draco standing there, his hands tucked into his pockets, looking for all the world like he’d been waiting for you. His expression softened as his eyes met yours, a hint of that same mischief dancing in his gaze.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, feeling a bit caught off guard. “I—yes, just needed a moment.”

Draco’s smirk widened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he glanced toward the crowd milling around in the ballroom, the faint music and laughter drifting through the hall. “Come on,” he said, his tone casual yet inviting. “Let’s get out of here for a bit. I know a place where we can actually breathe.”

Against your better judgement, you found yourself nodding. You knew you should probably decline, head back to the ballroom, and spend the rest of the night blending into the background as you’d planned. But something in the way Draco looked at you, the quiet invitation in his words, made you reconsider. And before you could think twice, you were following him down one of the manor’s winding, dimly lit corridors, away from the prying eyes and relentless whispers.

The path he took you down was secluded, lit only by soft candlelight and the faint silver glow of the moon streaming in from the high windows. You walked in silence, side by side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours as you rounded corners and ascended a narrow staircase. It was thrilling, a quiet adventure you hadn’t expected, and every step felt like it was drawing you deeper into a moment that belonged only to the two of you.

Finally, Draco led you to a small, secluded balcony overlooking the sprawling, moonlit gardens below. It was a beautiful view, with the manicured hedges and twinkling fountains stretching out beneath you. The night air was cool, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, enjoying the pleasant silence.

Draco leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze shifting from the gardens to you. “Better than the ballroom?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Much better. Thank you for this.”

He shrugged, his expression softening as he looked out over the gardens. “You looked like you needed an escape.”

Silence settled between you again, but it was different this time, layered with something deeper, something that seemed to linger in the space between you. The usual guardedness in Draco’s gaze had faded, replaced by something warm, almost vulnerable.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You glanced at him, a bit startled by the sudden shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He paused, his gaze holding yours, and for a moment, he looked almost hesitant, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft yet steady. “I know we don’t… talk much at school. But I enjoy this, you know—being here with you. Away from everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, his words piercing through the careful walls you’d built. It was a simple confession, but something in the way he said it made it feel like a revelation, an acknowledgment of something you’d both felt but never voiced.

The vulnerability in his gaze, the quiet sincerity of his words… It was enough to make you forget, just for a moment, all the reasons you’d sworn off relationships, all the rules you’d set for yourself.

Without thinking, you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“I enjoy it too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Draco’s gaze softened further, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might close the distance between you. But he held back, his hand resting atop yours on the railing, fingers curling slightly around yours. The night was silent, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, standing together under the silver light of the moon.

Draco’s hand lingered on yours, his touch warm and grounding. He shifted slightly, his gaze still fixed on you, and in that heartbeat of silence, something shifted. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he stepped closer, his hand sliding from yours to your waist. The world around you seemed to fall away, leaving only the soft rustle of the night and the faint glow of the lights from the ballroom below.

You felt the cool press of the balcony railing against your back as he gently guided you closer, his face inches from yours. His breath was warm against your cheek, and every inch of you was acutely aware of the closeness, of the way his hand rested on your waist, holding you in place with a quiet, possessive strength.

His gaze drifted to your lips, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, he hesitated—as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you let your eyes close, leaning into the moment, into him.

And then, softly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was slow, unhurried, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his touch tender but undeniably possessive. You felt his other hand come up, fingertips grazing along your jawline, steadying you, anchoring you in the quiet thrill of the moment.

The world outside blurred into shadows, the lights from the ballroom casting faint glimmers across your entwined forms. You were nothing more than silhouettes, melting together under the faint glow of the night, every touch, every breath, grounding you in a reality that felt dreamlike.

Draco’s fingers traced gentle patterns along your waist, his lips moving against yours with a sensual, lingering intensity that left you breathless. You could feel his heartbeat quickening under your palm, mirroring your own. For a moment, it was just the two of you, caught in the stillness of the night, bodies pressed together, lost in the quiet passion of the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still curled around your waist. The soft, unspoken intensity in his gaze sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself unable to look away.

“Was that against your rules that every boy seems to grumble about?” he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper, laced with quiet amusement and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the last remnants of your guard slip away. “Maybe,” you whispered, your own voice barely audible. “But I think I’m willing to make an exception.”

Draco’s smirk softened, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek as his other hand moved lower, resting on your behind. “Because I don’t think I’m quite finished with this evening.”

And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you knew, without a doubt, that neither were you.

Below, a few steps away from the garden path, Pansy stood with the rest of the group, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She tapped her foot impatiently, casting annoyed glances at Theo, who was still taking his time with his cigarette, chatting idly with Blaise and Goyle. They were laughing, nudging her now and then with teasing remarks about Draco, each comment only stoking her frustration.

Pansy barely paid them any attention, her mind focused solely on one thing: the fact that Draco hadn’t even spared her a second glance all evening. They were meant to be close—everyone knew it. She was supposed to be the one at his side, the one who caught his eye, but tonight, he hadn’t even acknowledged her. Glaring at Theo and the others, she ignored their snickering, shifting her gaze to the grand, towering structure of the manor, where the faint glow of candlelight spilled from the windows onto the balconies above. She tilted her head, scanning the empty stone terrace—when she froze.

Two silhouettes, unmistakable even from this distance, stood pressed close together on the far balcony, half-obscured in shadow but undeniably intimate. Her hands clenched at her sides as she watched, each movement between them driving another nail into her pride. She recognized Draco’s frame immediately, the way he leaned in, his hand lingering at the girl’s ass.

And then she knew. She knew who it was with him.

Y/N.

Her jaw tightened, her mind whirling with disbelief and raw, seething anger. It wasn’t just that he was with you—it was the way he was with you, the way his hand held you close, his body language tender in a way she’d never seen. Her eyes narrowed, a plan already beginning to form as she forced herself to look away.

She wouldn’t tell the others now—no, that would be too soon, and it would be too obvious. No, she’d wait. She’d bide her time, keeping this little secret to herself until the right moment came. And when it did, she’d let it slip so perfectly, so innocently, that everyone would know what had happened. She’d make sure the entire school knew just how unguarded you and Draco had been, exposing every secret look, every whispered conversation, and every stolen moment she could piece together. Satisfied, Pansy forced a smile, masking her fury as Theo finally finished his cigarette and turned to her, oblivious to the fire simmering behind her gaze.

In a month’s time, Hogwarts would know exactly what she’d seen tonight—and you and Draco would regret it.

~~~

The memory of that night on the balcony lingered as you pulled yourself back into the present. You tried to brush it off, but the details clung to you—the way Draco’s hand felt on your back, the steady press of his lips, the look in his eyes that hinted at something neither of you had been willing to admit.

And now, here he was, sitting across from you in the Slytherin common room, Pansy’s scathing gossip hanging in the air between you both. She was going on again, her voice sharp and smug, spinning the memory of that kiss into a scandalous tale that sounded so far from the truth it bordered on fantasy. Still, her words settled over you like a cloud, a reminder of just how easily that moment could spiral out of control in everyone else’s eyes.

Then, without warning, Draco cut her off.

“Maybe if you spent more time minding your own business, you’d actually have the details right,” he said, his tone calm but biting. His words stopped her cold, and he looked directly at her with a pointed, dismissive glare. “In fact, I really enjoyed it—and I’d do it over and over again if I could.”

A stunned silence fell over the common room. Heads turned, conversations dropped, and you could feel every pair of eyes fixated on you both. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you wondered if Draco was serious or if he’d just thrown out those words to put Pansy in her place.

But when he glanced your way, you caught something in his expression—a flash of vulnerability, a quiet confidence that told you he wasn’t just trying to save face. He meant it.

You couldn’t meet his gaze for long, heat rushing to your face as you excused yourself abruptly and left, every nerve alive with confusion, anger, and something else you couldn’t name. You roamed the castle aimlessly until you found a quiet spot to escape the day’s relentless whispers. You leaned against the cool stone wall, letting the silence settle over you, trying to untangle your feelings.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called softly, and you turned to see Draco standing there, his expression unreadable as he approached.

“What was that all about?” you demanded, your voice low but filled with emotion. “You practically confirmed every rumor Pansy started. Everyone thinks…” You trailed off, too frustrated to continue.

Draco looked at you steadily, his usual arrogance tempered by something softer, something real. “I know. And I don’t regret it,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I didn’t just say it to rile her up, Y/N. I said it because it’s true. That night meant something to me.”

His words struck you, cutting through the haze of your frustration and leaving you defenseless against the emotions you’d buried since that night. You looked away, struggling to keep your composure. “And what, exactly, did it mean to you?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

Draco stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin, forcing you to look at him. His gaze was intense, every bit of his usual guardedness stripped away. “It meant that I want more than just a memory,” he said softly. “I want more than just that night.”

You felt a surge of something raw and overwhelming, a mixture of hope and fear tangled together in a way that left you breathless. He was asking for more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting connection—he was asking for a chance, a real chance.

For a moment, you stood there, caught between the past and the possibility of something real. Part of you wanted to pull away, to put your walls back up and walk away from whatever this was before it grew into something you couldn’t control. But another part, a part you’d tried so hard to ignore, wanted to take that risk.

Finally, you reached up, your hand resting gently against his cheek. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Draco,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. “But maybe… maybe I don’t want it to just be a memory either.”

A slow, genuine smile softened his expression, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to yours, his hand still cradling your face. In that quiet moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, bound by a promise that was fragile yet undeniable.

As he pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready to face it together, no matter how messy, complicated, or risky it might be. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was the beginning of something that neither of you could—or wanted to—ignore.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

© slytherinsmuse. please do not copy, claim, translate or steal any of my works as your own.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Now, I just want to start by saying I love BabBee and Dadimus. I do, 10/10 would enjoy again, but I think Y'all are neglecting the comedic and story potential of Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ and still becoming a family.

Imagine with me, if you will, Cybertron ravaged by war. Things have fallen to shit. Megatron has been dragging these divorce proceedings out for years. Bumblebee was born around the beginning, give or take a few years, I don't care about specifics. His parents were sadly killed early on in his life due to something war related and Bumblebee has grown up alone. He manages to survive to adulthood, and he joins the Autobots. Bumblebee has been drowning in the consequences of this war since day 1 and he wants to help fix it. If Megatron won't sign the divorce papers then Bumblebee will. Yada Yada Yada Sad Backstory This is so sad, Alexa play The Less I Know The Sexy Back.

Anyhoo, Bumblebee is very good at his job as a scout. Top of the line shit, best of the best, 5 stars would eat here again. He's so good he gets promoted to work directly under Optimus Prime himself. Look at our boy go, we're so proud of him, you get that bag sister. Overtime, Bumblebee manages to become friends with Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime but we're focusing on Optimus rn) and they get pretty close. They're work besties, Bumblebee will make a joke over comms and Optimus will smile and say "I N D E E D, B U M B L E B E E.". Fucking insufferable, the both of them, it's so cute. You know how you can become friends with people twice/half your age when you're working at a hard job? That's what happened here, they've been through the (actual) trenches together, they've bonded.

So at some point, Bumblebee gets seriously injured while under Optimus's command, like some life threatening shit. Whether or not it's voicebox related is universe dependent , so we're not going to specify what happens, but it's serious. Bumblebee survives, obviously, but Optimus feels SO bad about it. Oh the Guilt is strong. When he's visiting Bee, some of this leaks out and Bumblebee tells him that he should not blame himself, Bee is choosing to fight, if he dies while fighting for the good of Cybertron, so be it. Better him than some innocent spark in the future. Plus, Bee only got hurt because of a stupid mistake he made, not anything Optimus did.

Bumblebee says this to try and reassure his friend/superior, but now Optimus feels WORSE. Bumblebee is like half Optimus's age (Bee and Optimus are whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of 20 and 40 are, respectively) and had nothing to do with the start of the war, and he's just as ready to die as Optimus is? And he's blaming himself for his injury? That he only got because Optimus told him to do something? Optimus is NOT going to let that slide, no he's not! Over his dead body! He is not crying in the club rn, what are you talking about.

Optimus has decided Bumblebee can not die now. He has declared, as the 13th Prime, that Bumblebee dying has become illegal and he will do everything in his power to enforce this new Law of The Universe That Should Never Be Broken Ever. Now, whenever the two are on a mission, Optimus tries to protect Bumblebee as best he can. He doesn't want to coddle him, Bumblebee is an adult and Optimus respects that but he'll be damned if he lets Bumblebee get seriously hurt when he could have prevented it. He also starts checking up on him when they're not fighting, asking how his day is going, how a mission went, making sure he see's a medic if he's hurt, making sure he's eating his energon, all that good stuff. Bumblebee is his friend, he's going to make sure he's okay, this is perfectly normal friend behavior. The rest of team prime is doing a similar thing, they all want to make sure Bumblebee is doing okay. Optimus isn't being parental in the slightest, he is being very normal. (Author's note: Optimus and Team Prime are being very Not normal about their emotions. All of them have some level of abandonment issues/lost-a-loved-one-itis and can no longer be normal about people they care about.)

Bumblebee recognizes what Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime) is doing. He knows that Optimus cares for him; he cares for him right back. Bee's not stupid, he knows that he's been getting some special treatment in the form of vaguely parental affection. And you know what? He likes it, a lot. He didn't get any growing up and now he's getting it from a guy he really looks up to, why would he pass this up. Bumblebee tries to return this affection he's being given in any way he can. He makes sure Optimus isn't overworking himself by visiting him while he's working, he makes sure Optimus is eating by inviting him to eat with him, he drags Optimus into the med-bay with him so he see's a medic every once in a while, he tries to make Optimus smile with his dumb jokes and antics, the whole kit and caboodle. Bee sees Optimus as some kind of parental figure, and he's going to make sure his newly acquired pop-pop is okay, just like he's doing for Bee. The Pop-Pop thing was a joke (Kind of). Why is he looking for cybertronian legal papers? That is none of your business, Bee just wants to see them for fun. No he's not drunk, the container of high grade started empty.

Life continues, Optimus (and Team Prime) continues to take care of Bee in his unknowingly parental way and Bumblebee is vibing with his newly acquired dad. It takes a while for anyone to acknowledge the new dynamic, Bumblebee just doesn't explicitly bring it up and Optimus hasn't pulled his head out of his suppressed emotion ass long enough to realize it. And keep in mind that Bumblebee is still an Adult and they are still technically coworkers, they still have a job to do, a war to win. Eventually though, maybe after the Autobots have left Cybertron, Optimus finally processes his emotions and realizes he see's Bee as family.

Optimus: Bumblebee, I care for you deeply, and I've come to see you as family.

Bumblebee: Aw, thank you! I consider you family as well. *Hands OP a data pad* In fact, you adopted me months ago.

Optimus (who did not sign any adoption papers at any time): I did what?

Bumblebee: I forged your signature.

At some point in the future, some guy is being a dick to Optimus, i don't really know what could happen, but Bumblebee steps in to defend Optimus with "That's my dad, you bitch!" and fucking slams the guy and Optimus is just standing there buffering, bc he's still getting used to showing and taking obvious affection and he approches Bee later to ask if he really considers Optimus as his dad. And Bee just kind of stares at him then points at the bumper sticker on OP's chest and says "yes, you idiot, I gave you that sticker for a reason" bc the sticker says "Worlds Best Dad" and it matches the "Worlds Best Son" sticker Bee got for himself and I'm rambling, I'll shut up now.

[oddaesthetin]

3:56 am — gojo satoru

fluff

-

“you know, i find that you’re actually quite easy to understand,” you muttered out of the blue, enigmatically, not even bothering to spare him a glance, and continued in whatever you were doing.

you saw him straighten up in your periphery,

“and by easy to understand, what do you mean exactly?”

“in a way where i know you prefer ice cream sandwiches more than ice cream cakes. or how your favorite song is shame on me by avicii because you think it reflects your life,” you stood up straight and looked at him for a second, completely ignoring what you were doing as you delved into thinking deeper. “i also know, and you’ll probably deny this, that your favourite flower is red and purple chrysanthemum because you find them vibrant and fluffy.”

the last statement reminding you of that one instance when you saw him get absolutely enticed upon seeing the flower. how he tried to fight off the intrusivity of squeezing them just to see whether they’d remain fluffy or not but failing miserably, and how his eyes got a tint of sadness when he saw the flowers crushed down to pieces. that one instance you see happen time and time again whenever he gets ahold of them.

hearing the last statement made satoru pout. not that you’ve noticed, as you went back to being engrossed in your project.

“i mean, i completely get the rationale behind that. maybe since people think you’re the strongest, or maybe since you grew up silver-spooned, it’s quite unlikely for people to assume that you’re no different at all from the rest. perhaps that thought is what makes it easy for them to separate you so they could look up to you.”

when silence engulfed the place, your eyes immediately went to the white-haired brute at the corner. although there was a distance between where you were both standing, it wasn’t as hard to notice the soft smile playing on his lips.

at the back of his mind, satoru is praying you wouldn’t see how much he cares about this conversation so much. it’s not so often you get to have these kinds of conversations, but when you do, he adorns it dearly. somehow, you always find a new way to tug his heart and mind.

he deliberately tries to fix his shades in an attempt to also hide the softened glaze his eyes bore.

“just because you know my favourite things does not make me easy to understand.” he disagreed, amidst the reddening of both his ears.

like how you get ignorantly confident from time to time, you shook your head as you answered, “but for me, you are. it’s exactly because i know you. and i’ve known you for years now. i’ve noticed your habits…how you think…they’re engraved in my mind.”

how sometimes he says something that’s exactly the opposite of what he’s thinking.

“besides, just because i think you’re easy to understand does not mean you’re not a complex person.”

how he so desperately wants to be normal and yet never wants to give up his ideals that are always adding to his hurt and burden. you saw him move from where he initially was.

“i think that all these is what makes you comforting.”

“i’m comforting?”

you raised your head and finally looked him in the eyes. “yes. to put it in easier words, you’re kinda like a close friend at a bad dinner party.”

satoru laughed. “a close friend at the dinner party, huh? what got me demoted?”

of course, satoru knows what you mean. he’s known you just as much as you’ve known him. and it makes his heart swell hearing you talk about his habits he never thought you’d take time to memorize and analyze because truthfully, no one has made an effort as deep as you did for him. when he’s with you, he feels like a common person. never having to be the strongest. never having to be gojo satoru. when he’s with you, he feels just like…toru. your man, toru.

his life with you is both seeing and being seen. he remembers his younger self— how he was so confident that he had learned everything in this world and there was nothing left for him to learn. just that thought alone made him snicker because oh boy was he so wrong, for being with you helped him discover new things, and grow as a person in many ways than one. he feels like a kid who’s only experienced the world for the first time. a world where being flawed is not a flaw, but a reason to keep loving, without hesitation and reservations. where waking up is not a task, but a choice, because he gets so excited to see your face first things first, converse with you, and do life with you. you’re like the orange to his blue. you may both be at the opposite ends of the spectrum, but you do well at complementing each other.

what you both have is bigger than the world. too complicated to explain but very easy to embrace. it’s a new feeling he’s willing to explore even more.

when he shares a space with you, it’s like the roles have been reversed. instead of him protecting you, it’s you that’s giving him safety. like tonight. he doesn’t know how to explain all this to you without his heart exploding and his words turning gibberish, but he hoped you know. his words may not be as impactful, but he tries his best to show it.

you rolled your eyes at the statement, “it’s just a figure of speech, hun.”

your boyfriend giggled and walked even closer to you. you were about to welcome his stance when he stopped you and turned you around as he wrapped his arms around your body. “yeah, well, even if it’s theoretical, i still would like to be your boyfriend. or husband, even.”

“that’s…not how what i said works, toru.” you replied at his idiocy, stifling a laugh. as he buried his face in your neck, you softly ruffled his hair. as you felt his lips smack a kiss to your neck, a whisper of “i love you” entered your ears.

-

© oddaesthetin 2024

[auclairedetoru]

Alrightyy, hii :3

May I request Levi with a reader who basically grew up around him? Like they were a child when Erwin found them and basically dropped them to Levi's care when he was busy. They have no home or parents and they have been a subject of experiments because of an ability connected to their blood (in my story it's healing but can be anything)

Reader is a 17 yro Survey Corp member but higher up than Eren and the other cadets since they started earlier.

(I'm very sorry if this is way too specific, I'm lowkey just requesting this for oc story purposes <33)

So sorry this is late, life happens lol 😭

tried my best to interpret it as close to your vision as possible. I've never written a reader/oc with powerful abilities, but it was fun to imagine it all and put it into words. I hope you like it 🤍

WARNING!! Spoilers to Levi's story in the OVA.

Levi never thought he'd take someone under his wing after what happened to Furlan and Isabel. He might not have expressed it but constantly losing people he cares about hurts him a lot, that's why he refuses to form any kind of relationship with anyone, too afraid they'll end up dead as well.

But now thanks to Erwin he's stuck with this grumpy kid who is in a very rough shape and whose frown gets deeper every time he looks at them. He was told that they had some sort of powers and that he's the perfect candidate for training them. Levi scoffed when he heard that but eventually agreed to do it.

He was instructed to take them into a random office and get them to talk about what happened to them wherever Erwin found them and then explain what the plan for them is. Time is very precious to Levi though and he has a lot of work he still hasn't finished so he's hoping he'll be done with them in a matter of minutes and send them on their way.

“What's your name again?”

Yeah, he remembers their name, it was the first thing Erwin told him about them, but he had to get them to talk somehow.

They glare at him and look away, their arms tightly crossed across their chest to show that they do not like being here and whatever it is he has planned. Levi sighs with a roll of his eyes. He doesn't like to deal with adults, let alone a kid who probably just became a teen and is starting to develop that shitty teenagers attitude.

“The longer you take to answer the longer you have to sit in this room with me and we both don't want that. So I'll ask again, what's your name?”

That got them to answer him with a mumble of their name. It's nothing major, but it's a step closer to making progress with them and ending this meeting quickly. Levi's not liking being stuck in this situation either and he wants to get it over and done with as fast as possible. He can already feel a headache creeping up on him at the thought of the mountain of paperwork waiting for him in his office. He could've gone through half of them by now.

“Where did you come from?”

“I don't know,” they shrug their shoulders, still refusing to look at him. He raises an eyebrow, where on earth did Erwin find this one? In the underground again? He hopes not. He doesn't want a constant reminder of that god awfully place.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

The kid huffs in frustration, “All I remember is being in the lab, is this what you wanted to know? Can I go now?”

A lab? What lab? He looks down at the paper Erwin gave him with information about them. It only mentions their name, age, physical description, and possible history. There's no mention of a lab or anything similar.

“What were you doing in the lab?”

They scoff and roll their eyes, “I don't know, they wanted to extract my healing abilities or something like that. I might not know how to read and write, but I do know that it's not possible. They wouldn't listen to me, though.”

Levi quickly writes down everything they said to report it back to Erwin, he has a feeling this has nothing to do with the underground, but a more bigger problem.

“what do your healing abilities do exactly?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Guess we'll be spending the night here, then.”

Levi doesn't spare them a glance as they throw their head back and groan. He's starting to understand why Erwin brought them here instead of taking them anywhere else. The survey corps could benefit greatly from their abilities, especially during expeditions. Training them will be the hard part, they're very stubborn, but he already has a plan on how to tackle that.

“my blood can heal injuries quickly, the worse the wound is the more blood is needed, but more like a few drops, not a lot. Those greedy bastards at the labs forgot I needed it to survive and got mad when I got sick from them extracting from me every single day without feeding me properly.” the kid scoffs as they remember those stupid blurry faces of the "doctors" yelling at them for passing out. It's not like they could control how their body reacted to literal torture.

“Humans can be very shitty,” Levi mumbles and looks back up at them after he finishes writing down all that they said, “that's why your first training lessons will be in hand to hand combat, you'll also be attending classes to learn how to write and read.”

Their face morphs into a shocked expression, their eyes following him frantically as he stands up and collects his papers, “what? No! I don't want to do all that, I want to leave!”

Levi stares down at them, his expression neutral yet intimidating making them gulp slightly, “you have two choices, either wake up bright and early tomorrow to start your training, or leave and try to fend for yourself, however don't expect those shitty doctors not to find you again.”

Safe to say those last words scared them more than he intended because they immediately get up and follow him wherever he's planning on taking them, as long as they don't go back to those scary experiments and tests.

A couple of years later...

“Captain! There you are!”

Levi turns slightly to look at the smiling 17 year old. A lot of changes have happened in the last few years. Y/n is now a different person than the one he first met. They're a lot more relaxed, a lot more happy. They tell him that it's because of their "very awesome and strong captain" but Levi thinks it's their determination to change that got them to where they are now.

“you're done with training for the day?” he asks them as they walk side by side.

“yep!”, they nod their head, “but Hange told me they need me for the experiments they're gonna do with Eren later today, just in case something goes wrong.”

Levi nods and looks ahead, “make sure four eyes doesn't go crazy with the experiments, the more they go overboard the more they'll use your blood and their stupid brain won't remind them that you're not a never ending fountain of healing.”

The young soldier nods, “will do. Plus, I need to take care of myself for the expedition next month, a lot of people rely on me during those.”

There's a moment of silence between them as they walk inside the building. Their relationship has developed into one where they could both stay silent for hours without it getting awkward or uncomfortable, and they both quite like that. Y/n did turn out to be the talkative type, like they're making up for the years they were practically mute, but they mostly rambled with the other soldiers they befriended, with him however, just his presence made them happy.

“Captain ?”

Levi hums to let them know he's listening.

“If Furlan and Isabel were still... Alive, would I get along with them?”

He pauses and looks over at them. He only talked about those two once, and it happened years ago to help them open up and continue training. He didn't think they'd still remember that talk or ask him about them.

“Maybe with Isabel. You're both a pain in my ass and love animals.”

Y/n nods and continues walking. They want to know more about Levi's past, about his life in the underground, about how he got to his position as a captain at the survey corps. They want to ask the people who knew him before them but at the same time they want to hear it coming from the source itself.

He is actually a huge inspiration for them and they look up to him a lot. He is very skillful and smart and they hoped to become like him one day, maybe not humanity's strongest soldier, but something close to that. Levi isn't just a mentor to them, but something much closer. According to their friends who have families, older brothers protect their younger siblings and teach them how to defend themselves, and that's exactly what the captain does to them, so in their heart he is their older brother.

Y/n bites the bottom of their lips as they look over at him nervously. Levi can sense their stare and he can tell they want to ask something else but are too nervous to do so. He sighs as the slowly approaches his office, “spill it out already, brat.”

“I didn't say anything!”

“But I know you want to say something,” he glances at them from the corner of his eyes, “so hurry up, my time is precious.”

Y/n looks down at their shoes to avoid looking at his intimidating eyes, what they're about to request is something very simple, but they're afraid he'd say no.

“...can I nap in your office?”

Levi scoffs. This habit started years ago and it's one of the things that made him gain their trust. They would nap on the uncomfortable sofa he has in his office while he gets work done. He should've never let them do it in the first place but it all happened by accident and now it became a regular occurrence. He planned on stopping it as soon as it started but then Erwin told him to do it and suddenly he didn't feel like doing it anymore.

He has that in common with y/n, being told to do something they were already planning on doing makes them not want to do it anymore. Now that he thinks about it, Hange and Erwin have mentioned on several occasions that spending so much time with him has turned y/n into a mini version of him. Apparently they have the same stare, same speech, same techniques, they even drink tea the same way he does. He never paid attention to those details, but maybe they were right.

“will that get you to leave me alone and not talk my head off?”

Seeing how they excitedly nodded, Levi sighs and opens the door to let them in. They run straight to the sofa where a pillow and blanket are already waiting for them, just like last time, and the time before that.

He would never admit this, not even to himself, but if you look deep down in his heart, you'd find y/n sleeping on a much more comfortable sofa, in a place where they're protected from any harm, whether it's humans or titans. He cares about them at a level he never felt before. Is this how it feels to care about family? Maybe. He never cared about Kenny like this, but it feels close to how he feels about his mother.

Sometimes he likes to imagine what life would be like if titans didn't exist and he never experienced any traumatic events that turned him into the person he is today. It's not always the same thing, but in every version, y/n is standing next to him, being the annoying brat they are, and he couldn't have them any other way.

Levi doesn't believe in religion, yet each day he prays and hopes that nothing will harm them or take them away from him as it has with others he once cared about. Losing them would be his last straw, it would be the last stab to his heart that kills him.

He looks over at their sleeping form from his seat behind his desk, and in that moment he promises to protect them with all his might, even if it hurts others in the process.

[luviwon]

SHOWER SEX | k.sn

kinktober day 26! back to the masterlist here!

☆ step brother!sunoo x reader

; “what about we just share this one today?” sunoo whisper into your ear, slowly taking more of your personal space inside the shower cabin. “let’s just wash these sinful desires of ours away here for now.”

genre ; smut (very small context + link because you seem to love these <3)

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse @rikinatorr

and it goes like this. you enter the upstairs bathroom, closing the door behind you in a quick motion. you look at yourself in the mirror, a faint smile on your face as you begin to undress from your pjs. mornings showers are definitely not for everyone, but since you had such an important day ahead, you sacrificed an hour of sleep for that.

soon enough, your clothes were all lying on the bathroom floor, your body feeling slightly cold as to the low temperature in the house. but nothing that a hot shower can not fix, right? you turn on the shower, and the sound of water fills up the bathroom. at first, it’s cool, but it warms up quickly, sending steam spreading across the glass. you step in, feeling the hot water wake you up as it pours over your skin. the warmth relaxes you, washing away any nerves, just letting you focus on the moment.

you work shampoo into your hair, the scent filling the shower as bubbles build up in your hands. then you grab the body wash, lathering it over your skin in slow, easy motions. warm water rinses everything clean, leaving you refreshed. you feel relieved, almost like you found your safe space, and you close your eyes, leaning against the cabin wall as the water keeps painting your body.

maybe that’s why you didn’t notice when the bathroom door opened quietly, a figure standing across from you, on the other side of the glass.

but when you open your eyes, you see him there, sliding the door to the side so he can join you, a finger going up to his lips, guiding you to be quiet. you take a step back, gulping as you find yourself in the corner, gaze unable to move away from the body of your step brother, who did not bother to even knock at the door beforehand. the worst part? he didn’t wear anything now, which shouldn’t be weird since he is inside a shower, but next to you?

that makes it less natural.

you move your hands to your eyes, covering them without second thoughts, almost forgetting that your whole body was still exposed to him. but if you can’t see him, he can’t see you either, right? or that’s what you hoped for, before feeling a warmth growing closer to you, his abdomen against your chest as he is lowering his head to whisper sweet thoughts inside your ear.

“i know you want this just as much as i do”

and that’s when you spread your fingers apart, looking at him through the gap formed there. sunoo is all a smirk, like he was so confident on himself, maybe even knowing how you spy on him when he touches himself? or when you peek through the door when he has a girl over, watching him fuck her rough and wishing it was you? maybe, just maybe there was a small chance of him knowing some of this stuff.

“baby…talk to me”, he whispered again into your ear, right hand grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. he intentionally pushes his body against you, to make you feel how hard he is already, as you refused to look at him when he stepped in. you gulp again, burying your head in his chest, unable to process what’s happening. this felt like a fantasy, like a written fiction.

“let’s just wash these sinful desires of ours away here for now.” are the last words before your step brother turns you around to face the glass, your tits pressed hard against it, while he is getting to stretch you out for, well, as long as you can take it.

[mcflymemes]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 2 *  assorted dialogue from the second hour of the video game

that suit of armor is moving.

where'd you come from?

i've only been gone three days!

the situation's changed - for the worse, unfortunately.

i've had a couple of days, and i'm still trying to wrap my head around it.

it does sort of explain a few things though.

there's something kind of exciting about it. and dangerous. really dangerous.

hope that means you've got an idea.

a few dozen demons shouldn't be a problem.

do you know what this place was?

it's probably something important.

well, isn't this a sight?

the artifact we're looking for must be inside.

think we can make that jump?

i plan to find out.

we're getting closer.

it's a lot trickier than that.

i've never seen this before.

it's almost like it's... breathing.

wasn't expecting to fight an ogre today.

just one of those days.

what does that crystal do?

i have questions.

it's kind of my thing. fixing magical stuff.

let me know when you're ready to head to the camp.

some of our most experienced fighters are still missing.

whatever's going on out there, it's scary.

sounds like things have gotten a lot worse since we left.

it's only a matter of time until our luck runs out.

if we could predict where they'd strike next, we might get ahead of them.

i don't know what you're going to find there. likely nothing good.

you sure you're up for this?

i've never seen fog this thick.

something happened here.

stay sharp.

it's so quiet.

where is everybody?

everything's just abandoned.

keep them inside.

everyone has to stay.

we need to search for survivors.

ever seen anything like it?

we're going to help you! we'll get you down!

i know you.

they made me do it.

i was tricked! manipulated!

i never meant for that! i swear! you must believe me!

what if the dragon comes back?

let's get him out of there.

we don't kill people. not like this.

try harder next time.

don't let me regret saving you.

what a pleasure to see you again.

so who are you exactly?

this dark turn of events shall only become worse.

what can you tell us about... all this?

how do we stop them?

how do we stand up against that?

none of us can do this alone, but we can stop them together.

these are the times in which legends are born... or slain.

i should've taken the shot.

we all did what we thought was best in the moment.

look where it got us.

we're still standing. the fight's not over.

i like that about you. you don't stop fighting. you push for answers and action.

we need someone who can put the pieces of the puzzle together.

we're fighting the unknown.

everyone has a part to play.

i think i can manage that.

i can feel lingering magic. powerful magic.

i can hear it.

i don't know how to control it!

you said something "took you over?"

i'm sorry. i wish i had answers.

talking has helped.

i guess we don't have any real answers.

we're friends, so i'm going to be honest.

it feels wrong.

i trust you have all this handled.

at least people are free because of what i did.

it must have been worse than i had thought.

so... you're going to be insufferable about it.

see, this is the reason nobody likes you.

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter eleven | wc: 5.9k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah and Lia get answers from Noah's Grandma to all the questions they've had since Koi No Yokan.

Reading time: 25mins aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: established relationship, slight angst, japanese folklore*, chinese folklore*, magical realism, fluff, a few tears, therapy, mentions/allusions to everything that has happened until now, including lia and noah's troubled childhood, lia's abusive relationship with mitch, and the time noah and lia slept together when they were drunk. Answers to all the mysteries that happened in Koi No Yokan.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

The house welcomed them with the earthy, lingering fragrance of incense. It was a scent neither Lia nor Noah could identify yet, for it was unfamiliar—perhaps it was woven from cedarwood. Perhaps sandalwood. Nevertheless, the scent and warmth of the house wrapped them in a sense of home despite knowing they were far from their own. It was an odd mix of comfort and respectful distance; they knew they were guests in a house where every detail was arranged with thoughtful care by someone else, and yet, it felt like being home in a way. But it wasn’t the place which gave them that feeling, no. 

It was Grandma. 

They slipped off their shoes at the entrance, following tradition, and as Lia wiped her eyes, Noah leaned into a hug to envelop his grandmother, a gentle but steady wrapping of arms that worked as a reminder of everything she had quietly done for him. As a boy, he had been unaware of it all, but now, as a grown man, he was aware and full of gratitude and admiration. 

“Why don’t you let Emi take your things upstairs?” Hana suggested, a familiar sparkle in her eye that meant she felt very joyful at having them home, finally. “I’ll prepare some tea, and we can sit in the tea room.”

At that, they both turned to see Emi, who had appeared with graceful timing at the entrance. She was a woman with short black hair in her late forties who had been assisting Hana for years. Noah and Lia knew her from their previous visits, and once again, as she stood with her hands neatly clasped and she nodded politely in their direction, her expression remained the same as always: serene and carrying a formality that made her seem both close and reserved at once. Though Hana managed the house alone, Emi’s help had become essential as of lately. The house was spacious and slightly too big for a woman alone. There were countless small details to tend to, and Hana, with her body aging with every passing day—that pain in her right leg, the backache—found herself struggling with certain tasks. Emi was there to lend her hands, as she had likely done for others throughout her life.

Emi’s presence had taken on a near-reverent quality since the moment she was hired, and that attitude applied not only to Hana but also to any guests arriving at the house. Her English was very poor, and that had led to some awkward exchanges between her and Noah and Lia in the past. Once, Lia had tried to bridge the gap and she’d asked Emi to sit with them at the tea table. But Emi, polite and respectful as ever, had simply smiled, bowed, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Lia feeling guilty at the thought that, while they were indulging in pastries and warm teas, the woman was cleaning the kitchen. Perhaps it was a cultural legacy of deep-seated respect, rooted in the tradition of servitude where service was considered a quiet honor, but it still didn’t sit too well with neither Lia and Noah. Hana told them, after a few times, there was nothing they could do and they had to accept the way she was, and so they never really said much else, not even when they felt a tinge of guilt.  

Noah thanked Emi gently, shaking his head when she made to lift one of their heavy suitcases. There was no way he was going to let that woman carry those heavy bags upstairs. But as expected, Emi insisted, saying something in Japanese and bending down. Noah exchanged a look with Lia, as if asking for a help she couldn’t provide. Emi attempted again to lift one of the bags, her intent clear even without words and ignoring Noah’s hands. 

“Can you tell her I’ll take care of it?” Noah asked Hana. “They’re too heavy. She’ll hurt her back. I can manage.” 

Hana nodded, understanding, and with a sweet voice but reverence in her tone, indicated to Emi—in Japanese, of course—to leave the task to Noah. Emi listened to Hana with more will than she had listened to Noah, for she nodded in understanding immediately and retreated after offering Noah another nodding and a smile that he tried to weirdly reciprocate. 

Lia trailed behind Noah as he took both suitcases upstairs at once, her carrying their backpacks, and once they reached the top of the stairs, she paused in front of the guest room door where she had always stayed. 

Noah kept walking towards his room until he noticed Lia standing far from him.

“You don’t think we’re sleeping in separate beds, let alone in separate rooms, do you?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, but her voice softened as she glanced toward the stairs. “I just don’t want to be inconsiderate. Maybe we should talk to Grandma about it first.”

After a brief pause, Noah nodded.

“Yeah. Sure. We’ll talk to her.” He extended a hand to her, and he waited until Lia took it to lead her into his room, sliding the doors open. 

The room was bigger than the guest room, square in shape, with a big futon laying on a wooden tatami, clean soft bedding drapped over it and an array of pillows. There was a small desk next to the door, facing the bed, and two more sliding doors on one side that led to a cozy balcony overlooking the distant mountains. Noah had never really stopped to appreciate how cozy the room was, but now he imagined how much warmer it would feel, having Lia lying in his bed. 

Noah set the suitcases in one side and Lia placed their backpacks on the desk. 

After spending a few minutes sorting through her toiletries and hanging up some clothes in the wardrobe, Lia slipped away to the bathroom for a quick break. Just then, a knock on the door startled Noah, causing him to turn around. He found Emi by the threshold, carrying more pillows in her arms and two colorful blankets. A sigh escaped him; he couldn’t find a way to explain they didn’t need so many, and he didn’t want to discharge her and offend her, so he simply stowed the extras in the wardrobe, thanking her.

Lia came back from the bathroom with her hair gathered in a comfy bun, and both headed downstairs. 

Grandma was in the kitchen, a space that carried the comforting smell of teas being prepared and food being cooked. Hana was placing an iron kettle on a tray and arranging three delicate porcelain cups beside a plate of traditional sweets when both stepped into the room. 

As Hana looked up, her eyes softened, the faint creases at their edges deepening. She paused, noticing the way Noah and Lia lingered at the door as if feeling shy about something. 

Before she focused on that, a surge of disbelief spread through her. It was always a little surreal to see them grown up, these two who had shared so much, tethered by a bond she had always sensed. To her, they were still the children who’d once sought refuge in her kitchen after school, where she would braid Lia’s hair and smile at Noah’s pleas to grow his hair long like hers, that little girl with torn clothes and that boy who used to escape the struggles of his family by playing guitar.

“Is everything to your liking?” Hana asked, her gaze soft but searching.

“Yes,” Lia replied quickly. Noah nodded in agreement, but then Lia glanced at him before adding, a hint of hesitation in her voice, “We were wondering if… if Noah and I could… share a room?”

Hana’s attention drifted downward, catching the subtle movement between their bodies. Noah’s fingers reached for Lia’s, and she quietly laced hers with his. Hana’s eyes lingered on their joined hands for a moment, before her lips curved into an understanding smile.

With a quiet satisfaction that neither Noah nor Lia fully comprehended, Hana lifted the tea tray and moved gracefully around the kitchen island, gesturing for them to follow without saying a word. Despite her petite frame, there was an elegance and authority in her movements.

Noah and Lia exchanged a look, then followed her into the tea room.

Hana’s tea room was minimal yet spacious, containing a square wooden table in the center surrounded by floor cushions. A single cabinet along the wall held a modest assortment of teacups and plates and a bouquet of dry flowers that had been there since she moved into the house, crafted by Lia, of course. On the left, the panneled windows made of washi paper let in the soft, diffused light from the garden at the back of the house. The room had always felt like a sacred space. 

Noah and Lia sat side by side, waiting in a reverent silence as Hana kneeled down in front of them across the table and poured the tea, the steam unfurling in delicate wisps that mingled with the scent of sencha. Lia wrapped her hands around the warm mug only to be warned by Hana. 

“It’s hot, dear. Be careful.”

It was always the same warning, and yet, Lia never seemed to care about it. Hana would always say the same, and Lia would always keep her hands around the mug because instead of burning her hands, the heat brought a sense of grounding to her that spread from her hands to the rest of her body. 

Next to her, Noah, normally patient, was growing a bit restless. He was expecting an answer. Yes. No. It had been a simple question, right? Can we share a room? Can Lia sleep in my bed?  He just needed a simple “yes” or “no” —a “yes” better than the other option because truth was, he didn’t know what he would do if Hana said he wanted them to keep distance while in the house. But Hana had to be so cryptic. She had to draw things out and keep him on this toes. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Hana’s old but wise eyes met his just as she finished pouring herself tea. Her expression was one almost… mischievous. There was softness in it, but she had a knowing smile on her lips that hinted at secrets only she knew. 

Just as Noah opened his mouth to speak, she said, “There’s something I want to show you.”

She started to rise, and instinctively, Noah made a move to help, but she waved him off. 

“No need, my dear. Just give me a moment.”

She dissappeared down the hall, her footsteps a soft patter that didn’t quite fade entirely as she retrieved what she went looking for in a nearby room. She returned moments later. In her wrinkled hands, she held a small, dark wooden box. She settled back onto the cushions. 

“Is that where you’ve been keeping my old baby teeth?” Noah joked, gesturing to the box with a smirk. Beside him, Lia chuckled, but Hana’s silence—her smile still serene—quickly quieted them. 

“Not quite,” was her reply. 

Hana placed the box on the table, facing her. Her own cup of tea steamed right next to it. She slowly opened it, but the attached lid created a barrier that made it impossible for Lia and Noah to see what was inside. Lia shifted, hands on her knees, lifting herself slightly and stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of whatever that was. 

Hana grabbed whatever was inside with such care that Noah and Lia’s curiosity and confusion just increased. A moment later, she placed something in the palm of her other hand and extended it towards them, revealing a piece of red string. 

The string lay delicate and faded in Hana’s palm. It was fraying slightly at the edges where time had worn it thin. Once bright red, it had softened to a muted, dusty crimson. Unbeknownst to the young couple in the room, it had stubbornly survived, first wash after wash, and then travel after travel until it was kept safe in the box that now lay on the table. 

“What’s that?” Lia asked, her eyes jumping to Hana’s, for she couldn’t make sense of the mystery that a tiny worn string could hold. 

She hadn’t noticed Noah going stiff, his eyes frozen over the piece of red laying in Hana’s hand. 

“That’s…” Noah began. He blinked, frowning a little as if he was trying to put the pieces together. He extended an arm and as gently as Hana had done, he took the string in his palm. “That’s a lose string from one of Lia’s socks,” he responded, more to himself than to Lia or Hana. 

Lia’s confusion only deepened at Noah’s words and at his reaction. He kept staring at the string in his palm as if it was made of gold. 

“What?” she uttered before shaking her head. “How could that—? I don’t own red socks.”

“You did,” Noah corrected her as he snapped his head up to look her in the eye, “when you were six.”

Lia wasn’t following. Noah continued.

“It got stuck on the pedal of my bike the first day we met, when I let you ride it. I gave it to Grandma right after I went back home. I thought…” The memories hit him, one after another. He nearly chuckled at his innocence back then. “I thought it needed to be sewn back or something. I got worried you wouldn’t have any more socks or that those would fray.”

Lia’s gaze flickered between the delicate string and the grandmother’s wise, knowing expression. She understood why little Noah, with his big heart and innocent worries, would have been anxious over the lost string. But Grandma? Why had she kept it for so many years? Why had she held on to it so reverently?

Unsure of what to say or feel, Lia found herself at a loss for words. She glanced at Noah, who was just as silent, both of them looking to Grandma.

“Have you heard about the red string of fate?” Hana asked then. 

Noah’s brow furrowed, and he nodded slowly. “I think I might’ve heard something about it… Isn’t that Chinese folklore?”

Grandma gave a gentle nod with an understanding smile. “Yes, it is. But that doesn’t mean it applies only to that region.”

Lia held her tea cup close, her fingers tracing the warmth that seeped into her palms. She took a slow sip, her eyes never leaving Grandma’s face as she waited.

“According to the myth,” Grandma continued, “the string of fate is an invisible red thread tied around the fingers of those destined to meet, especially soulmates or true loves. The ones connected by this thread are bound to find each other, no matter the distance, time, or obstacles. Though the cord may stretch or become tangled, it is said to never break, symbolizing a bond that is unbreakable and meant to be.”

“Folklore,” Lia concluded, a tinge of dubiety in her tone.

“Folklore, indeed,” Grandma agreed with a tilt of her head. “Life is not that simple, or beautiful. Some people are meant to be, but they never find their way to each other. However, sometimes they do. Sometimes they find each other at the strangest of times; sometimes when they are old, carrying the weight of their lives with them, and sometimes… when they are merely kids, with everything still ahead of them.”

“This is a broken string, Grandma,” Noah pointed out, extending his open palm as if trying to prove a point.

“And I said the red thread is invisible,” she replied with a soft smile touching her lips. “When you came home with that string in your hand, I kept it in a drawer for days, just because you were so concerned about Lia’s socks. But weeks later, when I found it again, I remembered the old myth, the one that had traveled from family to family, village to village, weaving its way across countries. By then, you and Lia were already inseparable, and I couldn’t help but wonder…” She trailed off, tilting her head as she looked at the thread as though it might reveal a hidden truth, as if it held the memories of years gone by. “I wondered if there was something to it. So, I kept it, out of curiosity. And as I watched you both grow—the more time you spent with each other, the more obvious it became.”

“What was obvious?” Lia asked, quietly. 

Hana’s smile deepened.

“That you were soulmates.”

Noah and Lia didn’t say a thing as they absorbed her words in quiet wonder and daze.

“When you moved in with Noah on your eighteenth birthday, I remember Noah calling to let me know that you’d settled in. There was something different in his voice—a blend of joy, contentment, and peace I’d never heard from him before. And then, the day you graduated, the look on his face when you came down the stairs in that beautiful dress, with those shoes you didn’t want to wear… Do you remember that, Lia?”

“I remember,” she replied as the memories flooded back. 

She recalled dancing with a classmate whose name had long since slipped her mind. She recalled Jolly telling her he was suspicious that Noah liked a girl. She remembered sneaking vodka shots with her friends in the restroom, and later that night, Noah giving her a piggyback ride to her room. And yes, she remembered the way he looked at her before any of that—a look she had assumed was the fond gaze of a best friend to whom you mean the world. Nothing more.

She turned her head to look at Noah. He was focused on Grandma, though there was a faint blush coloring his cheeks.  

“There was something…” Grandma went on. “It was’t just the string. There was something else, a feeling around the two of you, as if the world itself was telling me your place was with each other. When I look back, I’m convinced it all started the moment Noah first saw you, Lia. The thread may have existed long before, but the day your sock got caught on the pedal of his bike… it might have been a sign—a signal from some higher power that didn’t want you straying away from each other. I never wanted to interfere, to disturb the natural flow of things… so I did the only thing I could. I held onto this little piece of rope, believing somehow it would help keep you two together. I was afraid the thread might snap or get lost—that something would come between you and your relationship would strain.” She looked intently at them for a while. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful and intense as what you two have. I said some people are meant to be but they never find their way to each other,” she looked directly at Noah, “but you, my dear child, you never left her side.” Not even when the thread threatened to break, when there were circumstances that hinted at a separation such as when Lia moved on her own, or when other people came between them—every one night stand, every girlfriend and boyfriend, Mitch, the night they slept together when alcohol was running through their veins. 

Be that as it may, Noah had always remained close to her. She had, too, in her own way and despite trying to push him away.  

“So,” Noah ventured, “you’re saying that we’ve always been meant to be together?”

“Yes. Lia has always been meant for you, and you for her. That’s what I believe, even if it sounds unreasonable, fantastical—you have every right to feel that way,” her voice flattered as her gaze drifted to a spot on the floor, unfocused. Lost in thought, her expression softened, and tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re here now. You’ve come back to me, together,” she continued, a smile breaking through the weight of years past, “after everything you’ve been through, all the struggles my children have faced so far away from me… I can only imagine how difficult it’s been, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything for you. But now, you’re finally here, as you were always meant to be.”

Seeing Grandma’s silent tears trail down her cheeks was almost too much for them to bear. Even with the joy in this moment, the pain she’d carried across the years was evident, stretching from L.A. to this quiet town in Japan. She had watched, powerless, from afar as Noah and Lia overcame struggle after struggle—every little and not so little thing that threated to keep them apart. She’d been alone, helpless against the silent ache that crossed oceans—the butterfly effect.  

Lia resisted the impulse to react to Hana’s tears, instead setting her cup of tea down quietly on the table. Without a word, she reached over and took the string from Noah’s hands, holding it with a calm resolve.

The moment the fabric touched her skin, she was pulled back to that morning, twenty-one years ago. 

She remembered waking up alone in a crumbling house, piecing together a small breakfast from what she could find in the kitchen. She’d dressed in clothes that had piled up at the foot of her bed, unsure of how to wash them or make the machine downstairs work. Hoping to give them a different smell, she’d played in the garden among the flowers until her clothes smelled of lavender and thyme. Inside, she’d lost herself in her sketching and coloring, hours slipping by in a quiet solitude she barely noticed anymore. When hunger crept in, she’d scavenged an apple from the fridge, slicing away the bruised parts and eating what was left. Eventually, she’d perched by the window, watching the world pass outside, dogs barking in the distance, occasional cars rumbling by. Finally, she climbed the stairs back to her room to put on some red socks and boots. She’d opened the house door, stepped outside, and settled herself on the concrete. A while later, Noah had appeared.

And in that moment, her life changed. 

Noah saved her. 

With the back of her hand, Lia wiped a stray tear as she blinked. She rubbed the string between her fingers, its fibers stiff but delicate, like a fragile relic of the past that carried the memory of those early days—painful and sweet at the same time. 

Both Hana and Noah waited for her to speak. It took a moment, but finally, she opened her mouth, her voice quivering as she looked at Hana, eyes glassy. 

“Can I keep it?”

Noah half-expected Hana to hesitate. After guarding this small piece of their past—of their beginning— for so many years, he thought she might be reluctant to let go, fearing that releasing it might somehow weaken the bond between them. But Hana’s response was instant. Her smile brightened as she nodded.

“You can keep it, darling.”

Maybe, Noah thought, seeing them together after all these years had finally soothed Hana’s fears, rather than fueling them. He was still taking it all in, not so much the fact that she’d kept this string for over two decades, but the meaning behind it. 

But it made sense.

Every little thing made sense. 

And if he was honest, it was exactly how he wanted it. 

He’d wanted Lia since that Saturday morning when she was six and he was seven, in one way or another. 

He watched her fingers play with the red string, as if she were trying to understand if it was just a scrap of her old sock or a sign of something greater. It might have been nothing more than a forgotten string. Or perhaps it was indeed the physical proof of a bond that had been with them since childhood.

His tea sat untouched, forgotten as he focused solely on Lia, watching the worry etched into her expression. He couldn’t look away. He whispered her name, hoping to see if she was all right or if all of this was becoming too much. Her big brown eyes met his, unguarded and glassy with emotion. She didn’t smile, didn’t speak, just looked at him, and then, her concern shifted toward him. Just as he was about to tell her he was fine, she turned to Hana.

“What happened to Noah?” Lia’s voice was steady but edged with urgency. “The coughing. The fever. All those flowers.”

Hana’s gaze softened, though her expression remained unreadable. 

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” she replied, sensing Lia’s growing distress.

But Lia shook her head. “No. Now. We need to know.”

Hana hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“Lia, my darling,” she began gently, “you just got here. Maybe one story is enough for today.”

“We’re fine,” Noah interjected, his tone resolute. He rested a hand on Lia’s knee, squeezing it lightly. “We’ve been waiting months for this, Grandma. We need to know. Please.”

For a moment, Hana’s shoulders slumped as though she were carrying the weight of something long-buried. She took a slow breath, then nodded, her gaze drifting somewhere beyond the walls of the room, as if she were looking back into a distant memory.

“When you were little, Noah,” she began, “I used to tell you folklore stories… so many you probably couldn’t keep track of them all.” She offered a bittersweet smile, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “Do you remember any those?”

“Some. You even got me a compillation book one Christmas.”

Hana nodded. “Yes, I did. And you’d beg me to read them, even when you should’ve been fast asleep.” She paused, eyes unfocused as if seeing the past replay in her mind. “There was one story—the tale of a boy and a girl. This girl loved the boy, loved him so much that it seemed to consume her. But the boy…” Her voice trailed off. “He didn’t feel the same way. It was a one-sided love, and because of that… she fell ill.”

Lia’s brow furrowed. “Ill?”

“Yes. In our culture, we call it Hanahaki disease. It begins with a feeling, a weight in the chest, but then it grows. Flowers begin to bloom inside you, filling your lungs with every unreturned feeling. And the more the love festers, the worse it gets.”

Noah frowned, his mind racing. The name felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t recall ever hearing the full story. 

“That’s not exactly what happened to me,” Noah intervened, lowering his voice. “I got sick every time Lia was physically away. But got better when she was around. And then one day, all of a sudden, the entire thing disappeared. On top of that, it was never a non-reciprocal feeling, so it cannot be the reason why I was coughing up flowers.”

“Not everything happens as its written in the books, my dear. As for the cough stopping one day and never coming back, maybe Lia can tell you more about that.”

Noah turned to Lia, surprised to see something in her expression he hadn’t expected—a trace of guilt, a hint of something she’d held back. She had listened intently, but now it was as if Hana’s words had pulled a thread that led to a long-kept secret. Her gaze met his, a small crease forming between her brows, her face shadowed by a reluctant admission.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Hana said, her voice gentle but decisive.

Both Noah and Lia looked up, startled.

“But we just sat down,” Lia protested. “The tea…”

“Don’t worry about the tea,” Hana replied, already rising with her cup in hand. She smiled warmly at them both before turning, and with a gentle slide of the door, left them in the quiet intimacy of the tearoom.

Noah turned back to Lia with a deeper frown, a look of weariness in his eyes that said he was done with so much overwhelming. There were still questions in the air and he wanted answer for all of them. Now.

“What was that about?” he asked, his voice edged with frustration. 

Lia took a steadying breath, sipped her tea, and set the cup down beside the string as she searched for the right words. 

“I think she’s right,” she started. “I know I brushed off all those times you mentioned Grandma’s theories—that being close to you somehow made you feel better. But after hearing about this string, that story, how long she’s held onto it… maybe there really are things beyond what we can explain and understand. Maybe this strange flower-coughing disease is one of them.” 

“I’m with you on that,” Noah replied, his gaze holding hers. “But it wasn’t one-sided when I fell head over heels for you, Lia.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But it took me months to realize it myself and then, accept it.”

Noah’s eyes—and mind—were clouded with confusion. Sensing his need for clarity, Lia took a deep breath and tried to lay it all out, piece by piece. 

She’d been in love with him for longer she could admit. Deep inside, her heart had always belonged to him, but over and over, she had refused to believe it, to accept such a thing. She couldn’t jeopardize this near-perfect friendship they shared—that meant everything to her. And they had made a promise. So, she buried those feelings, ignored her heart, told herself over and over that whatever she felt was just a passing infatuation and that it would go away in time. She lied to herself because she hadn’t been willing to admit to herself, let alone to Noah, that she was in love with him. 

In the end, it was her denial that made him sick. It wasn’t that his love for her wasn’t reciprocated; it was that she couldn’t bring herself to believe in her own love for him as more than just a friend. Yet, despite her efforts to bury it, her love always found a way to surface—whenever she made him laugh, whenever she comforted him, whenever she showed up at his door just to be with him. Somehow, Noah’s heart had always known that hers belonged to him, and that was why, whenever she pulled away or tried to distance herself, his sickness would worsen. 

Only after countless hours spent in therapy did Lia finally begin to admit the truth that her own heart, her own body, had been trying to show her all along. She remembered that session vividly: 

“No.”

“Lia—” Dr. Reynolds insisted. 

“That’s not how it is,” she assured nearly through gritted teeth. Her voice was tight with resistance.

“It is, and you know it. You’ve known it for a long time, but you refuse to accept it. For me to help you, you must acknowledge it. You have to say it out loud and accept it. I know you’re scared, but you have to admit what you feel.”

Lia felt the words crawling up her throat, her heart racing, her palms damp as she gripped the arms of the chair. Her breathing grew shallow, and she looked at the doctor with wide, glassy eyes, the truth trembling on her lips. 

“Lia,” Dr. Reynolds pressed, “you are in love with your best friend, Noah. Say it.”

Her heartbeat was rapid and erratic, each beat hammering against her ribcage. She was terrified—terrified of what admitting it would mean, what it would change. But perhaps the only way to stop the ache was to finally speak the words aloud.

“I’m…” Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath, her nails digging into the armrests of the chair as she steadied herself. “I’m in love with Noah.”

Back in the tearoom, Lia took a deep breath, her gaze landing on the steaming cup of tea. Noah's hand was no longer on her knee, and she missed the warmth it’d provided.  

“The day after meeting her,” Lia continued, “Jesse called me. He said you were worried something had happened to me.”

“That was the day the coughing stopped,” Noah acknowledged. “The day before had been Hell. I’d been so fucking sick, and then… from night to morning, I woke up and felt fine.”

“It was because I admitted to myself what I’d been refusing for so long—that I loved you. You were sick all those times because of me.” 

Noah hesitated, his lips parting slightly as he processed the rising panic in Lia’s voice. He shifted to face her, still seated in a lotus position on the cushions 

“That’s—” After a moment’s deliberation, he shook his head and squared his shoulders, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on them. They could continue down this path, but it would only lead them to the painful memories of the past, and that was no longer what mattered. “It doesn’t matter now. That’s all in the past, Lia,” he concluded, his voice steady yet tender. They had endured so much together. Neither had been at their best; they had made mistakes and harbored regrets. How could they have paid heed to some whimsical folklore tale—much less the reality of it manifesting in their lives? Considering everything, there was no sense in revisiting those moments or blaming each other for every obstacle they had placed in one another’s way. “We got the answers we wanted, and what matters is that we’re here, and we’re real, right now.”

Lia blinked back tears, but a few slipped free despite her efforts. She brushed them away. When another tear fell, Noah reached over and caught it with his thumb. Before she could think, she climbed onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him, clutching him tightly. He quickly wrapped her in his arms and held her close, resting his cheek against her hair, and she felt his steady breath as he nuzzled into her neck. The weight of her in his lap felt so nice and natural, and the way his arms encircled her made her feel safe, almost fragile but in a good way, because she knew she was out of danger with him. Would always be. 

“I’m so scared of losing you one day,” she whispered, her words barely audible against his ear.

Noah pulled back just enough to look at her. Glancing at the small, coiled red string on the table beside them, he reached for it and held out his hand to Lia. 

“Give me your pinky finger,” he ordered. 

She looked at him questioningly but placed her hand in his. He laid his own pinky alongside hers and began to wind the red string around them. 

“Help me with this?” he asked, giving her a soft smile.

She did. When they finished the knot, their pinkies were tied together with the thin red thread. He tugged gently to make sure it held, then grinned. 

“Now we’re really tied together. See? Problem solved.”

Lia’s laugh came out, light and clear, the tension in her shoulders easing as she looked down at their fingers entwined by the string. The sound was so full of life, of relief, that Noah couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through his chest. He lifted his hand to her face, cupping her chin with two fingers, and leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, savoring the way her smile lingered against his own.

When he finally pulled back, he whispered, 

“I told you. You’ve always been mine, Lia.”

— prev. chapter | chapter twelve 🌶️

Author's note: 100 points for those who guessed it was the red string 🤭 You can reread about that moment in Chapter 1 of Ikigai (literally the beginning of the story). It's no more than a couple of paragraphs, if I don't recall wrong, right at the end, but it was a very important detail for the future. Thank you once again for reading and being with me in this journey :)

*I've done some changes to the original folklore stories mentioned in this chapter to adapt it to Noah and Lia's romance story. I hope everything was more or less clear regarding all those weird things happening in Koi No Yokan. I never had this story planned in detail before I started writing, so it got tricky at some points, but I think I managed to make everything fit reasonably within its flow.

🔖 Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h | @ferduttini

[zeestie]

dearest reader of this diary entry,

I am done suffering in my illusions, I have figured out what living presently actually means, killed my ego, understood the true meaning of manifesting, & stopped worrying about others.

let me explain...

PHASE I: TRIGGER

a while ago I went through something that triggered me A LOT. I don't remember exactly what it was, that's just how insignificant 3d circumstances are but back then I am sure it meant a lot as I was so triggered, angry and frustrated. then I decided to meditate, so I opened a 369 hz pure tone and I just lied down, relaxed, and focused on.. nothing.

that experience has been so simple, yet so profound. I don't feel like the same person before that. when I woke up, the reality I was in didn't feel the same either. everything moved different and felt different. and I was no exception.

I have always prided myself on being an optimist, and yeah I have always been one; however, I have only been the hopeful optimist.

whearas before my optimism has been born out of hope for better, now my optimism is not out of a need but comes from pure love and acceptance for the now cos ik for a fact that I have myself, god, and everything I would ever need to be happy.

I really feel no need to try any more, I just go for what I want, that's it. and that's why I have been very connected to my creative endeavours these past few days. whether being through being active here and on YT or through drawing and writing in my free time, I love creating and I am so glad I realised that instead of indulgence in the material world.

PHASE II: KNOWLEDGE

ever since that incident, I feel like I have started to understand what life is truly about. life is not about desiring and chasing after a goal, it's not about trying so hard, it is not about waiting for better, it is about living it now. becoming okay with what's happening now, not forcing a certain outcome but letting life take its course.

it might sound weird to say that as an loa girlie, but srsly, this is what manifesting is really about. it is about knowing, not desiring. it is about rising above the need for your desires to materialise. ik for a fact that I manifested the perfect life for myself so why would I desire more? doesn't make sense at all.

at first, I approached manifesting from a place of trying and systemised it the way I did with every goal I had in life, "affirm X times a day," "visualise every night," "do X rampages a week." I was too dependent on techniques, but now I understand that techniques are not here to help you manifest, cos it is all done anyway. techniques are here to remind you of the fact that you truly manifested it. it is here to calm you down and remind you of your power.

now, I only use techniques when it feels right, I am not forcing them esp. when my thoughts and feelings are already aligned to what I want. if I am already living as the version of me that has it, why would I do more? I don't need to do more, I just am.

and ofc now that I have changed, I have stopped being so attached to wtv idea I had of me or what other people have of me. I can be whomever I want & me separating myself from my ego helped me really see how I was stuck in narratives that didn't serve me and kept me stuck.

PHASE III: CHANGE

two weeks ago I created a some sort of character sheet of dream me, the next day I became her. I could have been like, "this is not gonna happen overnight" but why? the reason it can't happen is because i was against it & the only reason I would be against it was cos I am too attached to an idea of who I am. but thankfully, I am not any more.

I embrace the qualities I already liked about myself and as for what I didn't like about myself? I don't reject it, I am just simply not it any more. I don't need to force it, I just select the identity I like and that's it. before, my ego would not let me, cos selecting the dream me means forgiving those who I didn't seem deserve forgiveness or leave some of my "very important" past behind.

it also meant that I can't use my past or who I was as an excuse for how I acted, but when I used to always excuse myself, it somehow felt v punishing, like I have been punishing myself by staying this unfavorable version of me because I am not ready to let go of my history. it felt like I didn't trust me enough to change once and for all.

to become a blank slate was terrifying to my ego. but I am not my ego. I and you both know that. my ego can be scared and I will reassure her a million times over if that's what it takes, but I am not folding. just like a parent who knows what's best for their child. even if the child screams in retaliation, the adult comforts them but doesn't bend the rules cos they know what's best for their child.

PHASE IV: TRUTH

I have been neglecting and neglected by myself every time I chose my ego's or other people's comfort. but I am not doing that again any more.

we all understand that others are just mirrors of what we think of them so that's why I couldn't care less about how I come across any more. others can judge but I have decided that none will. others will see me change over and over and will welcome any change I take on, every single time, I have decided that.

since these realisations, life felt sm simpler to live, the pressure of being a certain person in front of others has subsided. the need to stay my "consistent" (more so predictable) self is non-existent. and the need for life to go a certain way has also faded. a lot of beautiful things came about after this change and I am so glad to live every day with the ability to choose my own joy and peace, not waiting for someone or something to make me happy.

rn I am grateful to have realised all of that, to have transcended this physical plane and to have chosen to live as a soul who chose to live this human life. souls full of love and light, that is our true essence.

✦°·

[mickeym4ndy]

utterly wild to me that Mickey and Monica never met.

Cuz like, he'd prob be as indifferent towards her as he is to Frank.... until Ian is diagnosed and then Monica is just a big reminder of what could happen to Ian if he stops treatment etc. And her manic episodes would have such similar energy to Ian's that it would be so painful for him to watch...

Ooh yea Mickey and Monica is an interesting thought. I think she’d like him. Monica is in general really nice to people and isn’t outwardly cruel, and I feel like she’d be sooo excited to meet Ian’s boyfriend and just want to be his friend or something.

But yea I think Mickey would hate her tbh, if we’re thinking in a world where they met after s5 (bc I do think he’d be generally indifferent to her before that like u said). I think it would be more about her treatment of Ian than anything else though. Like I think Mickey would struggle with her because her episodes would be a reminder of Ian’s, but I don’t think he’d hate her for that. It would just worry him.

I think he’d hate her because of the shit she’s put Ian through. He’d hate her because he knows she’s the one that got Ian involved in dancing at the clubs underage, because she’s the one who left Ian and endangered him repeatedly, because she’s the one who gets Ian’s hopes up only to leave again, because she took Ian away from his family when he needed help, because she convinced Ian that he didn’t need help, because she was the one that caused Ian to push him away, because she had him living in a crack house and getting with older guys when he was underage and did nothing to stop it.

I think in an alternate reality where Monica had lived, Ian would always end up wanting to help her because how could he not? And Mickey would really struggle to understand it. He’d be like “look at what she put you through she doesn’t deserve u constantly doing this for her when she won’t help herself.” I think it’s easier for him in canon to understand Ian’s love for her since he never met her, but if he had, he’d probably struggle with Ian and Monica having a relationship because she caused Ian to leave him in the first place and she’s put him through hell. Which is interesting because Mickey has a loyalty to Terry that Ian can’t understand.

Ian really struggles to understand why on earth Mickey would have any loyalty to Terry, the father that abused him and made his life a living hell. But still, Mickey has a need for Terrys approval and a loyalty to Terry that he can’t explain. And Ian clearly does not understand it, yet he has such a love for Monica despite everything she put him through. (Obviously the situations were different, but they both have love for their abusive parent they can’t let go of). And (in this reality) Mickey struggles to understand Ian’s loyalty to Monica, even though he himself has a loyalty to Terry.

If Monica had lived, it would’ve been really interesting to see Mickey and Ian try to navigate all that. Ian hating that Mickey still has a relationship with Terry and that he does so much for him, while he himself still has a relationship with Monica. And also Mickey hating the fact that Ian does so much for Monica and has a loyalty to her, while he does so much for Terry and has a loyalty to him.

If u ask me, Terry’s death actually could’ve been a chance for them to explore this in canon. Would’ve given Ian’s coldness towards Mickey after Terry died more meaning and actually made it make sense. Like maybe he’s complaining to Debbie because he can’t understand why Mickey would miss Terry and Debbie says “well don’t you miss Monica?” and it could’ve gone from there.

Again I know Terry and Monica are very different. Monica’s abuse is more of a byproduct of her behaviour, while Terry actively chooses to abuse and terrorize his kids. But the way their children view them is similar, so it’s interesting.

thanks for sending this! apologies for the long answer lol