#he is my biggest comfort creator

[earth4angels]

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

modern jacaerys targaryen x reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: living in the world of entertainment where cameras were always capturing every moment of privacy — being home in the comfort of your equally famous lover was all you wanted.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: fluff, established relationship, comfort — corny af i’m sorry. experienced jacaerys mentioned. squint and you’ll see some smut.

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 !!: working in silence is my way to go now — going to follow in the footsteps of my love swordgrace. here’s a very short one shot inspired by the song woo by baekhyun. reader is a model, jacaerys is a famous heir, number one wealthiest families in westeros — not proofread.

Fall was at its prime.

The colors of the leaves changed to a bright green into a beautiful burnt orange with tints of red. You enjoyed the way the wind tickled your nose, slightly making it twitch yet you felt warmth by it. Fall was still warm yet it was also cold, it was chilly but it never felt welcoming when you were currently shoving through the flashing cameras that were itching to catch a glimpse of you.

“Can you tell us a little about your relationship with Jacaerys!”

“Y/n!! Look over here!”

“Y/n! Stop being so snobby! Turn over this way!”

Your heart started pounding. You feared you were going into a panic attack. The way your palms started sweating or the way your vision started getting hazy, you thanked yourself that you wore the shades your boyfriend bought you.

The shouts becoming muted as you continued to push your way into the car that awaited you. Your security guard holding you close, bringing you one piece of comfort. You enjoyed modeling, you always had a deep love for fashion and its stories, the becoming of trends and why stylists, creators make pieces so elegantly and beautifully crafted. However, you did not enjoy the discomfort and disrespect media always associated with you just because you had distinct ideas than a typical model. It became worse when you got together with Jacaerys Targaryen, the heir to the Targaryen family.

Jacaerys was beautiful, he was strong, patient, quiet at times but he was a man with strong beliefs. He always put his family first and was extremely smart, you had always praised his extreme care for business. He had a short temple but it only took a kiss on his neck, a cuddle and a movie with Vermax for the anger and stress the business brought him for it to disappear.

A model, with the most wealthiest man who happened to be an heir — the media had a lot to criticize. What exactly would a model bring into the family but worthless entertainment. You had heard ever critique, and it took everything for Jacaerys not to curse on national television, but you admired him. Jacaerys stood tall, confident, his face was hard as stone and publicly he announced he would take anyone to court if they ever spread misinformation or defamation against you or him. You watched with a heavy heart as he never paused, he never answered questions and you watched as Rhaenyra stood by him with the equally stern face, however you did not ignore the small smirk she held. She was proud.

The relationship you held with Rhaenyra was of one you wished you held with your own mother. She was your biggest supporter — it was a complete switch to how you first met her. The first year you started dating Jacaerys, he had brought you over as his date for a gala his family held. She was serious and briefly scanned you up and down. She spoke bluntly and the moment you introduced yourself, she knew then, you were the one.

You spoke with grace, tall and confident, you held no fear and she loved that about you. Since then, she was protective of you, she loved you as if you were her own. The love and respect she held only intensified the moment her other children became attached to you. Lucerys in specifically treated you as his older sister, coming to you for advice and stayed over your apartment when things became too tense at his university.

So when the media started to show its negative energy towards you, she demanded a conference — Jacaerys had already moved before her, with a date and time at hand. He was not going to let anyone belittle you and Rhaenyra cheered quietly beside him. She had raised him well.

James, your main security guard had tugged you hard to push you in front, the car now coming into view. The breath you had released came in a smoky cloud in the chilly night. You rushed to get inside the sanctuary of your car, as James shut the door and quickly jumped in the passenger seat you began to breathe normally. The cameras continued to flash your way, all you did was cover you face to avoid any photographs.

“Your house or…” James spoke, snapping you out of your empty mind. You looked towards him and thought about it.

“Jace’s,” you did not hesitate after that. You missed him.

You had your schedule packed, fashion week was coming and designers had you on their mind to walk their pieces. Jacaerys could have never been more proud of you.

“Yeah, they better. They need my beautiful girlfriend to show off their work, they would be blind if they didn’t choose you,” he said the night you told him. You rolled your eyes as you threw yourself on top of him in embarrassment where he held you as he laughed. His lips finding yours as his hands scrambled to get you off your pyjamas.

You had not seen him then, it’s been a month. You were busy with rehearsals, fittings, and he was busy in meetings, and learning after his mother who had taken him to every business engagement.

As you arrived to his penthouse that was in the city, you tried to contain yourself from the excitement that was boiling inside. James bid you a good night and you returned it with gratitude in your voice.

Knowingly you entered the key into his penthouse, being welcomed with silence. You had expected that, you knew Jacaerys would not be home for another hour or two.

My brother is still at the meeting with mom, he looked annoyed the last time I saw him. So careful with the attitude he’s going to bring.

You sighed at the text from Luke. Jacaerys could never catch a break and you feared he was going to grow grey hairs at 27. Tiredly you dragged yourself through the kitchen, snorting when you found a plate and a mug you had made him your first year together sitting inside the sink.

Of course, he wouldn’t have time to clean after himself.

You figured you would prepare him a nice dinner and wait to surprise him, you told Luke not to tell Jace that you would be home. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend — after 2 years close to 3 years together you already knew his likes and dislikes in food.

The house was too quiet, you silently walked away from the kitchen to enter his living room that was too plain, it certainly looked like a man owned the place. If it was not for your input you knew Jacaerys would never think of renovating, he claimed he did not care much about it but one look at your face — he crumbled.

Instead of too plain, the living room had touches of color, burgundy — and plants since you knew Jace was too busy to care for flowers. As you inspected the plants, you heard very distinctly the sounds of slight ruffles, little thundering. Your lips stretched into a bright smile. You had fixed your clothing, which contained of leggings and a soft camisole, you had rid of your trench coat upon entering.

“Max… my sweet Vermax — where are you baby?” you spoke with such love and adoration that you began to laugh as the mixed retriever came running towards you.

The overhyped fluff of Vermax jumped on you, running in circles and throwing himself onto the floor for your attention that you could never hold back the cooing that came upon you. He was such a bright but spoiled dog, Jace never said no to him.

“Hi, I missed you too,” you ruffled his flapping ears, he barked happily at your attention. “I love you Vermax.”

Vermax only barked before he grumbled, you laughed.

“Yeah, I am sure your dad loves you too baby,” you continued to laugh at the sight of your adorable dog, as if he understood you, he only stared with his bright eyes. “Vermax he loves you, he’s just busy.”

Vermax licked his snout before he ran to the couch and laid comfortably, he was being bratty and you knew that. Jacaerys definitely spoiled him way too much. You shook your head in amusement.

“I’ll need to talk to your dad when he gets home about that attitude Max,” you nagged playfully only to get Vermax grumble and his tilt of head as if saying okay.. so?

Your phone rang, you picked it up not checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You moved towards Jace’s bedroom to change your clothes, you needed a bath before you started cooking.

“Hi my love.”

You paused mid action. The water ran calmly compared to the beat of your heart that began to pound fast. That voice never failed to bring you weak at the knees.

“Jace…”

You heard rustling of papers and another deep voice in the background. You furrowed your eyebrows. Before you asked him what was he doing he spoke with such softness that it made you want to kick your feet in the air.

“Sorry baby, Cregan’s asking for some papers. Anyways, I was calling because I miss you,” he paused before whispering, “I need my girl back.”

You clutched the phone tight, your smile wide, you truly loved Jacaerys way too much that words could never compare. He was your soulmate, your equal partner, he was your home.

“I miss you too Jace,” you said hearing him take a small breath, “I’ll be with you very soon,” you continued, knowing full well when you saw him, you were never going to leave his side again.

“Promise me you will let me know when you come home?”

Too late.

You bit your lip before breaking out a small chuckle, “I will let you know.”

He hummed, “I love you beautiful, I miss you, always.”

“I love you more Jace. Always.”

“I will call you when I’m done here okay? I want to hear about your day, how you are and how’s everything going with your rehearsals. I’ve gotta go,” he said suddenly, an annoyed tone in his voice now sounding apparent.

You in fact did hear the voice of your dearest friend, Cregan saying something off phone. You chuckled in amusement but also at the way your boyfriend started cursing out his best friend for interrupting. You did not hold any offense when he suddenly hung up.

Quickly you sunk yourself into the warmth of the water, covering it in rose bubbles. Jacaerys filled his bathroom with every small thing you loved, from your favorite bodywash to the skin care you applied every morning and night. He had said — more like promised — you will always have a home with him.

As you spent the next hour soaking in the bath, you finally got out, lavishing your body with your nightly routine. Lazily you grabbed a pair of panties from your bag, and Jace’s old university sweatshirt. When you arrived downstairs, you found Vermax sleeping calmly on the couch, you shook your head.

Tonight, you would prepare a full filling meal with wine to end the night with a scary movie, you found them scary but Jacaerys found them too comical to even find fear in them.

My mother and stepfather are far more scarier than these films, especially if you add Alicent in the picture.

The music played throughout the house in a soft tune, you cooked quietly, a smile on your face as the excitement of seeing your boyfriend soon ran through your body.

The dining table was prepped, candles and a wine bottle sat in the middle awaiting to be enjoyed. You sat satisfied at the couch, pulling out a blanket Jacaerys kept nearby to cuddle into the needy Vermax. He let out a small bark before licking your hand. You knew it was his way of expressing his love.

You moved your head to check the time. Your lips pressed against each other, it was barely ten - o clock. You only hoped Jace would get home early, but again, he was a equally busy man. You sighed, your hand grabbing the controller for the television, pausing when you stumbled into an entertainment gossip show.

“As fashion week approaches, we stumbled upon one of the most popular models of our time!”

You watched quietly, biting the inside of your mouth. The report changed to the scene where you had come out the airport. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“We asked her to give us some details on her relationship with the infamous Jacaerys Targaryen — we had no response. It seems our favorite couple want to keep their relationship private. The last time we saw them together was during Y/n’s last modeling session, we were in luck to get an anonymous tip!”

“Why can’t anyone mind their fucking business,” you muttered, as you angrily switched the channel to put on a random chick flick movie.

You got comfortable, laying down as Vermax made himself cuddle you. Slowly, without realizing you fell asleep. You did not wake up, not even when the penthouse shook slightly by the loud thunderstorm that hit as you slept. You never awoke, not even by the loud sighing of your tired boyfriend as he walked into his home slightly drenched by the rain.

Jacaerys had a whole day of paper work and negotiations. Hours of meetings and having to test his limits of being extremely patient. He would never understand how some of their business partners were just evermore greedy, yet he had to maintain a calm posture and clench his teeth tightly together as he smiled with stress.

“Fuck me…” he muttered, flinging his shoes to the side as soon as he stepped inside. He yawned, his body shaking slightly due to the rain and his clothes being wet.

“What the hell?” Jacaerys was confused, it was odd Vermax had not jumped on him, it was not usual but it was still rare. Vermax was a very needy pup, but that was not what made Jacaerys stop and question if he should call authorities.

The house was quiet, the TV was on, and the dining table was set up — there was food, candles and two glasses of wine.

This could have not been his mom, or you. As far as he knew, you were not in the city, you were in Oldtown, and Aegon had assured him she was safe. Aegon was an entertainer but he was also a designer, and while he had a talent to make a mean screwdriver, he was one hell of a talented designer that you never hesitated to try on his designs when he asked.

As he passed by the dining area, he grabbed the first thing his hand touched — a plate.

Quietly he stepped towards the living room where he found Vermax sleeping and a covered body engulfed by a heavy blanket he kept aside. Now instead of confusion, he was concerned. He had feared a crazy fan or stalker entered his home — you and him captured a lot of attention, good or bad.

His head leaned over the couch and the moment he saw chestnut slight curled hair he paused. As he pulled the blanket to the side just to see your face his heart leaped out his chest. You were home.

Immediately he put the plate on the floor and leaned his head down to place a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek and finally your chin. He continued to kiss your face until he heard you moan sleepily. Vermax nipped his father’s hand, annoyed he had come to wake them.

“Shush you or no food,” Jace spoke quietly, poking his tongue out at his fluffy child who just pouted— if he could.

“Angel, what are you doing in the couch?” he said again, as he continued to kiss your cheek nonstop, smiling wide when you moved, your nose scrunching up.

You had scrunched your eyes tight as you opened an eye finding yourself face to face with a certain lover, your curly favorite boy. You gasped, your arms automatically pulling him down towards you. He fell onto you in a loud “OOF!”

Vermax was now beyond annoyed as he flapped his tail yet he moved to his fluffy bed, his head on his paws where he laid with grumbling noises.

“Hi,” you whispered against his cold cheek.

Jacaerys moaned at your warm hold, his head was deep between your chest, where he felt the low rise of your chest. He moved to face you, his forearms resting besides your head.

“Hi,” he replied with a bright look in his face and a small grin, “How was your nap?”

Your lips twitched with mischief, “Hm… cozy warm.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, your hands moving to push his curls back, finding itself deep in the wet curls. You saw his eyes fluttered close, a groan slipped out his lips. You pulled him towards you.

Jacaerys did not say another word before he kissed you. His lips moved with yours in perfect harmony. He swallowed your needs, your deep sentiment of longing. You allowed to mold yourself into the comfort of his own heart. Your tongue licked his lips where he had opened his mouth to welcome you. You were hungry for him, you missed him more than anything in the world. He was your best friend, your sun to the moon, your air and the love of your life.

He bit softly into your bottom lip, tasting the cherry of your lip balm and the taste of wine you had before you fell asleep. If he continued he would loose himself in your scent, your heavenly taste. So he forced himself to pull away.

“Let me take you to bed,” he mumbled.

You shook your head, “No. I made us dinner, you need to shower or you’ll catch a cold.”

Jacaerys only stared at you, before pulling himself off you. With no words he just moved to grab you in bridal style. You shrieked, “Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen! PUT ME DOWN!”

He moved towards his bedroom, he placed a kiss on your head, “Nope!”

“Jacaerys!” You kicked and wiggled in his hold, but you remembered, he was strong and you knew that nothing could make him drop or release you. You bemoaned, “Jace, the food…”

“I appreciate it my love, but right now I just want to be with my girl, hold her and kiss her because I have missed her more than anything. Can you give me that?”

He placed you on his bed, as he crawled on top of you. His wet curls lingered around his face, he had such a beautiful face and his eyes — oh you could have never imagined yourself loosing yourself in such a muted sunset. Even in the dark his eyes twinkled, it was like a silent night at the beach and his eyes spoke of timeless love.

You pushed his shirt off him, as he pushed himself closer to you. Your fingers moved in silence and he said nothing as he kept his eyes on you at all times, you never moved yours either.

“You are so beautiful, you are the most precious and most ethereal woman to ever exist,” he whispered against your lips.

Jacaerys had never met someone so beautiful, someone who moved with such elegance. He had girlfriends before, two. But before he had met you, he thought he knew love. Love was just a sentiment but with you, it was a touch, a whisper, a take of breath, a kiss, a bouquet of flowers, a kiss — love was everything, a puzzle that you helped solved. You were the calm to the storm, you were the sunrise to his blue. You were love.

You pushed his slacks off with your feet, as you continued to look into his eyes. “Never,” you disagreed.

“For the rest of my life I’ll prove that your existence alone is a blessing from the angels above,” his hands moved down your body, to your legs where he moved slightly to remove your panties.

“Then, make me yours forever,” you moaned into his mouth as his hands moved up your stomach to cup the swell of your breasts.

“You are mine. Always.”

The food was forgotten, the house was quiet but the sounds that came out of Jacaerys bedroom would have made someone run out. As Jacaerys entered your folds, his thickness caressed your walls in all the right way, and you felt like you were thrown out into the sky.

Jacaerys had not told you and he did not plan to, but as he continued to make love to you, watching how your face turned so beautifully blissed, the ring that could have bought the entire world sat in his dresser— a ring that was his mother’s but he added your own touch and that became a ring of an never ending love.

“I love you,” you both whispered, deep in each others embrace.

Jacaerys kissed your hands, more specifically your left hand — where soon would own his entire beginning to new life he longed for.

mootie gc tag: @divinesolas @hxtd @benjinotes @astrxq @swordgrace @xxselenite @vee-mage @bryscorner @eldrith @bucksplum @princessbellecerise @housetargaryenloyalist @v3lary0ns @softspiderling @cregnstark @manhandlememando

natties angel list (permanent tag list): @shameanon @yohanseyebrowmole @mthrgs29

jace tag list (open!): @smurfelle @number-0-iz @vividxpages @writtenapoiogy @jacesvelaryons @thenotesapppoet @agqrtz @cieraerickson8

[babeyun]

out of my head ✮ l.hs [m]

✮ synopsis: years after your friendship with heeseung has begun crumbling, you ask him to be part of one of the biggest days of your life - your wedding day.

✮ genre: estranged best friends to ??? ; semi-unrequited lovers au ; angst ; fluff

✮ pairing: singer!lee heeseung x financial advisor!fem!reader ; sim jaeyun x reader

✮ word count: 10.4k (yikes...)

✮ rating: nc-17.

✮ warning(s): ...kissing? lol? a lot of hurt with no comfort, semi-unrequited lovers, wedding superstitions, mentions of having kids.

✮ playlist: off my face - justin bieber ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator ; your eyes only - enhypen ; this is why i need you - jesse ruben.

✮ a/n: i'm a yapper sorry, but happiest birthday to heeseung <3 that's my pookie! i love u.

four months ago.

"you're getting married?"

you and heeseung had been best friends for nearly twenty years. the two of you met at a park during a winter storm, both of you having begged your mothers for a chance to go see the snow. a coincidence really, the two of you having somehow lived the same experience (one that heeseung was convinced was fate, while you just boiled it down to two four-year-old kids giving into the natural urge to plunge their grubby little fingers into cold, unforgiving snow.)

however, in the last few years, you'd grown apart. 

you were freshly out of university, and heeseung had recently taken a job as a backup vocalist for one of the local entertainment companies. he'd been a singer his entire life, something you never allowed yourself to pick up because your mother had always taught you that safety nets were better. while heeseung openly explored his talents, eventually learning guitar and slowly, piano - you buried yourself in mathematical equations that made your brain hurt but forced yourself through it all because, after all, you needed a plan.

heeseung lived life on the edge. he didn't care if he had money, if he had belongings - life was more than that to him. he ventured out into the city with nothing but his headphones sometimes, not even so much as bothering to bring an umbrella if it looked like rain. "if i get soaked, i get soaked! life is more than staying inside with your head heavy from studying." he told you once, and you had just shaken your head.

"come on, y/n! don't you want to dance in the rain? don't you want to risk getting sick and having your mom make you that soup you really like? live a little, life is too short to waste away in our bedrooms." he tugged you out of your house that day, making you leave your phone behind as you trekked the entire city by foot, and once the rain did start falling, you were a mile from your house. "heeseung, i can't get sick! i have a presentation–"

"screw that presentation! live in the now!" he held you close as the rain pelted your backs, spinning you around as your laughter echoed in the neighborhood. "isn't this fun! aren't you enjoying this newfound freedom, no expectations? no logarithms, no polynomials!" he exclaimed, making you only laugh harder. "hee, i'm a finance major. that is fun for me!"

"and i'm a y/n major, i know you fucking hate math!" he giggled as he set you down, his fingers brushing your wet hair off your face. "i don't have things like you do, hee! i need a plan, i need something to fall back on. you work to make money to invest into yourself, you don't follow dreams!" you say as the two of you make the route back to your house, making him scoff.

"are you saying i'm wasting my time living the way i do?" he asked, a twang of hurt in his voice going unnoticed by you as you nodded. "i do. i think you are wasting your potential." your words pierced him, but he said nothing more as the two of you reached your mom's house. "see you later, hee."

"see you later."

that had happened three years ago. heeseung noticeably distanced himself after that day, limiting your hangouts to once a week instead of dropping by whenever he felt like it. soon, what were weekly hangouts became biweekly, before you were only meeting him for dinner on a random wednesday night in the middle of the month. you never asked so he never explained, and he simply assumed your silence on the subject meant that your puzzle of a life no longer had a need for a lee heeseung-shaped piece.

it pained him to think that you were outgrowing him.

heeseung was taking classes while working, having finally let your words get to him. you were right, in a way - he couldn't live his life on the edge forever, but the fact that you actually said that to him after constantly reassuring him that you believed in him was...unexpected, to say the least.

"she's just worried about you, hee." his older brother rattled, and heeseung shook his head. he had long told him about that day, and continued to try and decipher it for the years after. he didn’t really understand why it bothered him so much, but his only guess was the same — you had pretended to have an interest in his life, but yet, just like everyone else…

…you had no faith in him.

“yes, hee, i’m getting married! focus!” you tapped your pen on the notepad in front of you, the ice in your matcha long melted. heeseung was gripping his mug of hot chocolate for dear life, wondering where he missed the fact that you were even in a relationship to begin with. “i didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, forgive me for being curious.” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes.

“you would know if you answered any of my calls.” you say pointedly, making him groan. “okay, sorry i’ve been so absent from your life. what’s this guy’s name anyway?”

“sim jaeyun. you can call him jake.” you scribble something onto the notepad, before tearing it off and handing it to him. “this is his number, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point for what i’m about to ask you.”

your smile is mischievous, one that heeseung could never forget. it was engraved in his memory, it lit up his dreams and haunted his nightmares. the same smile he’s written endless lyrics about, the same smile he’s fallen in love with but refused to admit it.

“y/n, i haven’t seen you in six months. how can someone possibly gauge if a person is marriage material in such a short time?” he argues as he folds the scrap of yellow paper. you huff with a frustrated look on your face, “jaeyun and i have been seeing each other for a year! we made it official nine months ago, and we’ve been engaged for three months! i told you this already!”

“when the fuck did you even mention him!?” he groans, and you click your pen angrily.

"hee, if you hadn't been so focused on your own life, you'd be up to date with mine." grimacing, you reach into the knapsack you brought with you. pulling out a pink binder, you set it on the table, facing him. the paper sheet behind the vinyl reads the sims - may 2026. 

he snorts inwardly, before you open the binder. "i know we haven't been as close as we'd like the past few years." you start, clearing your throat as he glances at you. you pull apart the binder rings, pulling out a folder as you continue to speak. "but, i know that you're still doing the singing thing, and i wanted to offer you a gig."

sliding the folder across to him, he glances down at it. it's thick with pieces of printer paper, lyrics typed neatly in times new roman. he recognizes the first song as he slips it out of the folder, his eyes scanning the sheet over and over. 

"you want me to sing at your wedding?" he asks incredulously, and you take a sip of your watered down matcha. you press your lips together as you nod, staring at your fingers. "i showed jaeyun some clips of yours from a few of your other gigs, and he really liked it. this is our song, and we want you to sing it for our first dance." you tap the paper with your pen, and heeseung sighs.

"then why are we here alone? why isn't he here, showing face and asking me with you?" he accuses, and your frown is deep enough that he's sure you're about to throw your drink at him. "he's at work, if you must know. he's busy."

"and what does he work in that he can't come with his future wife to a measly two-hour lunch?" he taps his finger on the table, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of the best friend he'd become estranged from. you weren't there.

"he's..." you bite your lip, staring at whatever was behind him in order not to meet his eyes. he looks at you pointedly, brows raised in expectation - a look he'd always hated from other people. you grimace before responding. "he's a singer, he's recording his album right now." heeseung blinks slowly, something you knew meant he was about to either get up and leave, or he was going to scold you once he processed the information. your best friend was nothing short of an open book, but as he looked down at the sheet in his hand and shook his head, you suddenly couldn't read him anymore.

"after all the shit you gave me." his tongue drips with poison before he shoves the sheet of paper back in the folder, tapping it with his hand before grimacing. "when is the wedding? do i have to be there for the whole thing?" his eyes are full of fire as he stares at you, and you can feel yourself shrink under his gaze. heeseung was rarely ever mad at you, even during these years of estrangement. you were never really on the receiving end of his anger, so you never handled it. "may second. you don't have to stay, if you don't want to. but i'd love for you to be there." your words are softer than you intended, and you can really feel the tug on the invisible string that ties the two of you together.

he nods, pressing his lips together as you watch his eyes brim with tears. "okay." he looks away as the first tear falls, wiping it away quickly before getting up. "just…send me the address when the time comes." he tucks the folder under his arm as he quickly walks away, trying not to let any more tears fall as he exits the cafe.

he can't help but hold everything in as he walks to his apartment, his mind spinning with potential thoughts. when did you get so far? how did he let you stray so deeply, and where did you even meet this guy? why didn't you tell him sooner? or did you, and he just blocked it out? he can't remember, no matter how hard he skims his memory. "fuck!" he screams as he slams his door shut, throwing the folder onto the table in the foyer. 

he slides down the door, a sinking feeling taking over his stomach as he hits the cold tile. he can't help but sob into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently as he does. you're getting married and he missed the entire thing, he's missed the past year of your life and has no remorse in doing so. he only feels sorry now, now that he's realized he's too late.

april 30.

heeseung was increasingly stressed.

you had told him over text (because he wouldn't answer your calls) that he had to take the week off so he could participate in bonding activities with your fiancé's groomsmen. he'd been reluctant, and said he'd get there the thursday before the wedding, nothing sooner – making you upset. he didn't care, he wouldn't lie to himself – he felt betrayed that you were getting married to someone else. it was childish of him and he knew it, but as he aimlessly wandered jeju island alone – it only sank deeper into his bones that he had truly fucked up.

he didn't bother to bond with any of your bridesmaids, either – despite their starry eyes and warm smiles, he could only see the dread in your eyes, the twitch in your lower lip as you greeted your guests with your fiancé. he kept his hand on your lower back at all times, and heeseung wonders if jake knows that he did that in the past. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he held your hand as you both skipped through the sand on family vacations with your families, heeseung wonders if jake knows that he shared a bed with you on nights where thunderstorms would scare you out of your sleep and heeseung would run the three blocks to your house to comfort you.

heeseung wonders if jake knows that he was your first kiss, in the back of heeseung's '96 civic when you were both juniors in high school. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he is in love with you, and that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop.

not that jake knowing any of this would matter, because come saturday night, you'd be out of his grasp forever. he would never place his hand on the small of your back to ease your nerves, he would never hold your hand, he would never share a bed with you. he would never kiss you again, and he'd rather never see you again if it were up to him.

but it wasn't, was it? "heeseung! you made it!" 

heeseung turns to see park sunghoon walking towards him with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "oh shit, hey! i didn't think you and y/n kept in touch after high school, it's great to see you." heeseung greets him, and sunghoon snorts. 

"we didn't, actually. jaeyun and i go way back." sunghoon nods. sunghoon had been a friend of the two of you, but it was hard to keep in touch due to his prominent ice skating career. he was always busy, and it was easier to cut ropes than continuously make promises to see each other only to fall short.

"i'm sorry i didn't reach out more." heeseung starts, but sunghoon shakes his head. "don't even worry about it! my life was too crazy to keep tabs on everybody." sunghoon shakes his head, and heeseung tilts his head at him. "was?" sunghoon shifts in the sand, picking his cuticles as he sighs. "i had to quit, i got injured pretty badly during the finale of my last competition. i won, though, so at least i went out with a bang." he shrugs, and heeseung can see the disappointment in his eyes before offering a hug. "i'm sorry, hoon. that really fucking sucks."

sunghoon rejects the hug with a shake of his head. "it's fine, i'm doing other things now. i work as a backup vocalist for jake, me and jay. oh, jay's here, too! have you seen him?" sunghoon gestures to the air, and heeseung offers a small smile before shaking his head. "haven't seen him yet. to be honest, i don't want to be here." heeseung's confession, if surprising, doesn't seem to faze sunghoon. instead, the younger boy nods. "i figured you wouldn't. you're singing for them, right? i heard through the grapevine." sunghoon smirks, and heeseung rolls his eyes before lightly punching his arm. "stop lying, you brat. you read it on the wedding program."

sunghoon gives him a soft pat on the back, before leaning closer. "she wasn't going to wait forever, heeseung." with a curt nod, sunghoon continues down the beach towards the resort, leaving heeseung with wide eyes and a heavy heart. what did he mean by that?

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the night was heavy as the last of your guests straggled in, and your feet were swelling in your shoes from standing for so long. jake had offered to take over as you went up to your room to change them, and you were internally thanking him as you hobbled to the elevator.

only for you to arrive and see your best friend waiting there calmly, headphones over his ears as he softly nods along to whatever is playing. he looks up when the elevator finally opens, completely oblivious to your lingering presence behind him. it's only when you get in after him, feeling the shift of the elevator's floor, that he looks at you.

his eyes are unreadable as he skims them over your face, a soft tilt to his head before he presses button six, hand hovering over the button as he waits for you to speak. you put up five fingers, and he presses it carefully as the doors close. it's silent, and for the first time ever since you were four years old, heeseung feels like a stranger. a polite stranger that presses the elevator button for you, that has come all the way from seoul on a ferry to sing at his estranged best friend's wedding.

except he's not a stranger, and you're the estranged best friend getting married this weekend. you're the estranged best friend who lied about your fiancé being excited for him to sing your first dance song, and you're the estranged best friend who wants it to hurt him. you want it to hurt, seeing you dance with your soon-to-be husband all night,  you want it to burn in his chest when the two of you kiss at the end of the aisle.

you want him to ache as badly as you did when he basically abandoned you for no good reason. you want him to stay up all night in tears like you did when he wouldn't answer your calls, you want him to rant passionately about you to whoever gets the privilege of being his girlfriend like you did to jake when the two of you first started dating, and you want him to ignore the questions of if you're in love with each other.

just like you did.

loving heeseung was a thing of the past. he was out of your heart and out of your head, for the most part. you only ever thought of him when you'd talk to jake about old high school stories, skipping over the parts where you and heeseung shared loving caresses that the two of you convinced yourselves were nothing more than platonic. it didn't matter now, though, because there was no piece shaped like you in heeseung's puzzling life anymore.

you love jake. he's your endgame, and you're glad to be marrying him.

"are you excited? big day soon." he says gently, and you can feel your stomach turn as he nudges you with his elbow. you nod, a small smile on your lips as you glance down at your engagement ring. jake had it custom made, a marquise diamond nestled onto a thick gold band. it was a little tight, but you promised yourself you'd get it resized after the wedding.

"very excited. are you nervous? about your performance, i mean?" you ask, genuine concern in your voice as he shakes his head. "just another gig, really. it's special to you, though, so i've been putting my all into the rehearsals." he itches his neck, a nervous tick you'd picked up on through the years. you nod, patting his shoulder gently. the conversation stops as the elevator does, the number five on the elevator's neon sign. 

"my stop. i'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, right? you need to be there." your eyes are pleading, and heeseung can't help but sigh. "i'll try." 

the answer doesn't seem to satisfy you, but you nod anyway, turning on your heels to go to your room. the doors close, and he lets out a shaky breath. you're very excited to marry sim jaeyun in less than thirty-six hours. you're very excited to be mrs. sim, you're very excited to have your first dance with your husband to the sound of your best friend's voice singing the song that reminds you and jake of your relationship. 

a song that insinuates the two of you are unbelievably high off each other in every which way, and how ruined one of you has made the other for anybody else. but this song doesn't take into consideration how he is ruined for anyone else, how he is in pieces at the mere thought of you wearing white while meeting someone else down the aisle.

he doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

may 01.

"hey! you must be heeseung, i've been waiting forever to meet you!" 

heeseung doesn't recognize the voice as he turns, eyes swollen with sleep when he looks to see you, and who he presumes to be sim jaeyun. he nods absently, before glancing at his cup of hot water. he'd stumbled down to the hotel's complimentary lounge, a packet of fennel mint tea in his hand.

"give me a moment, i'm sorry. i'm barely here." he apologizes sheepishly, tearing the bag open and dipping the bag into the cup. he wipes at his eyes once more, before turning to face a smiling jake. "you're jaeyun, right? nice to finally meet you man, y/n has said some awesome things about you."

lies. heeseung doesn't remember a single thing you have ever said about jake, just that he's a singer. but out of courtesy, and jake's business-like grip on his hand, he smiles through it anyway. "i heard that you asked for me specifically. your wedding song is beautiful." heeseung sees you wince out of the corner of his eye as jake looks a bit taken aback. he tilts his head slightly, but goes along with what heeseung now knows is a lie. "i'm glad you could make it. y/n talks a lot about your singing skills, are you working on any projects right now?" your face is pained as heeseung looks you dead in the eyes, "no, i'm just a backup vocalist. i gave up on that dream a while ago." he looks back at jake, who has a sad smile on his face. "the fame, the money…i was never suited for that life, anyway." "i'm sorry to hear that things didn't work out for you." jake sounds genuine, a flash of sadness in his eyes as he shakes heeseung's hand again. "i hope to see you at the rehearsal tonight. have you got a girlfriend? there'll be quite a few people at our singles' table." jake wiggles his brows and heeseung wonders when you're going to speak.

"actually, heeseung won't be able to stay. he's got another gig on sunday." you lie, and jake's eyes widen. "oh, you'll be missing our reception?" "i'll be leaving right after your dance, i do sincerely apologize." heeseung gives jake a sheepish grin, to which jake nods slowly. "that's unfortunate, there's a lot of people you could network with here! take advantage of it, dreams are meant to become reality." jake finalizes, before giving heeseung another warm smile.

"i will do my best! thank you for having me." heeseung says, and you can feel the fake tone of happiness in his voice seep into your bones. you'd been the only person to ever recognize it, and heeseung knows you're aware he used it as he takes the tea bag out of his mug. "i will see you both tonight." 

he spins on his heel as he hears jake whisper to you.

"you asked him to sing our song? when? why didn't you tell me?" "we can talk about this later, okay? he's really good, i promise."

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your mother had been staring at heeseung for the last fifteen minutes, and heeseung was almost sure she was trying to figure out if he was who she thought he was. he gave her a small smile and waved, and the moment her eyes lit up, the person in front of her turned.

jake. he frowns as she walks away from him mid-conversation, stumbling over only moments before the rehearsal dinner is set to start.

"sorry, sweetie. i didn't know you and my y/n finally made up! it's so good to see you!" her embrace is crushing, and heeseung doesn't have the heart to tell your mother that you're a horrible liar. you hadn't 'made up' – he was simply doing you a favor, something else you'd lied about. he just smiles as she pulls back, ruffling his hair gently. "love the red, it really suits you." "thank you, auntie. it's nice to see you again." he remains relaxed as he sees her eyes soften. "what's wrong? not ready to see your little girl walk down the aisle?" he teases, and the older woman sighs inwardly. she turns, her shoulder brushing his as they stare into the room full of tipsy bridesmaids and boisterous groomsmen. "if i admit something to you, you'll keep it quiet, right?" she murmurs, and heeseung suddenly feels like this conversation isn't going to be one that favors his unruly feelings for you. "of course, auntie. who am i to tell?" "i always thought you'd be the one to marry my y/n." she sighs, clasping her hands in front of her as her eyes watch jake speaking to you gently as he hands you a glass of wine. heeseung's eyes follow hers and the two of them can see as your face falls and jake quickly moves to hide you from any lingering gazes. "i should go see what's wrong. it's nice to see you, heeseung. please enjoy the wedding!" he nods as your mother quickly crosses the room, her arm around you as jake gets pushed to entertain the guests while you get taken care of. jake looks nervous, and heeseung can't seem to stop his body as he also crosses the room, a small smile on his face. "good evening, jake." "oh, hey! how are you liking the venue so far?" a small flash of relief passes onto his face, and heeseung feels guilty as he shrugs. "it's what i expected for someone like y/n. so floral, so bright. are you sure you had any part in this?" he snickers, and jake laughs genuinely.

"she wouldn't let me even look at the flowers with her. babe, you're going to pick the wrong ones!" he imitates you, and heeseung shakes his head in amusement. you'd always been a bit of a control freak when it came to your visions, and now that your life revolved around financial decisions, you were wound up extra tight. "yeah, she's always been like that." he sighs, and jake doesn't miss the slight tone of sadness.

"listen, i don't know you very well," jake starts, reaching for a bottle of cabernet across the table. he grabs two glasses, uncorking the wine as he leans to pour. "but i want to say thank you." he holds the wine out to heeseung, and he tries not to look curious as he takes it.

"thank you for what?" heeseung asks, and jake gives him a pointed look as he blindly pours his own glass. 

"for taking care of y/n all these years. i know you and i probably won't be the best of friends, i'm the first to admit that i'm not very good at sharing her attention." jake grimaces to himself as he replaces the cork into the bottle. "but i'm glad that she has someone as reliable as you, that can just… be there for her. it's a beautiful thing, your friendship."

heeseung almost feels nauseous as jake continues talking about how sweet your lifelong friendship with him seems. it just confirms that you told jake everything and anything you could about it, and based on his mention of jealousy, that includes the first kiss you shared. he can barely hear jake over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but understands enough when jake pats his shoulder.

"...and i figured i'd be honest. y/n didn't say anything about you singing our song, we had originally planned for sunghoon to sing it with the band we hired. i guess she thought you'd be better for it, and i trust her judgment." jake says, pulling heeseung back in. "oh, i'm sorry." "don't even worry about it, man. hey, why don't you just relax, enjoy the dinner tonight. tomorrow is going to hit us like a fucking train, we should be well rested today." jake nods, and heeseung reciprocates with a gentle smile as someone else calls for jake's attention. "remember, just chill! network!" jake gestures to the room as he walks backwards towards the people looking for him.

heeseung can't shake the nausea from his throat, setting down the glass of wine to wander to the bathroom. but, the hall seems to get longer and longer, the temperature changing from the cold air conditioning to the humid spring air. he can feel a breeze in his hair, and then he realizes he's on the beach. his feet are buried in the warm sand, shoes in his hand.

sighing, he reminds himself he can't zone out like that all the time. it's not healthy, you had told him once. what if you end up in the middle of nowhere?

he reaches into his pocket, pulled out his spare headphones. he was supposed to bond with everyone at your stupid rehearsal dinner, but he didn't care to do so as he stared at the crashing waves. plugging the headphones into his phone, he gently speaks to siri as he lays on his back, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"hey, siri. play are we still friends? by tyler, the creator."

he stares into the water as the song pours into his ears. he doesn't know where things went to shit, but he knows it's his fault. he should've told you that what you said hurt his feelings. he should have communicated, then maybe it'd be him sitting next you in the private jet your mother rented solely for your honeymoon escape after the reception.

maybe it'd be him spinning you around in your beautiful wedding dress, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you dance the night away. maybe it would be him, like your mom had hoped. maybe it would be him, like he had hoped, too.

his fingers dig into the sand as he swallows the lump in his throat. there is nothing in hell, heaven or earth that would stop you from trekking the aisle tomorrow afternoon. nothing would stop jake from kissing you tenderly right in front of him, and doing it for the rest of your lives. it would taunt him, it would haunt him like the ghost of your friendship. you weren't friends anymore, the two of you knew it. things would never be the same between you, and yet, neither of you was brave enough to ask the question.

why?

"heeseung! are you out here?!" he can hear sunghoon's voice over the fourth replay of the song, lowering the volume as he tilts his head to find him. "over here, what's up?" "what's up? they're waiting for you, man!" sunghoon is standing in the doorway of the resort, the soft breeze blowing his hair back as a bridesmaid also peers over his shoulder. heeseung sighs as he stands, wiping his pants of sand and shoving his phone into his pocket. he walks quickly, humming quietly to himself to semi-prepare his voice for the perfect delivery of the song you wanted him to sing.

everyone is chatting quietly around the tables as heeseung steps inside, running his fingers through his hair as he walks forward. your mother catches his eye, a concerned look on her face, but he can't hold eye contact. he faces the floor as he reaches the small stage the venue has set up for the band, jay perched on a stool holding a guitar.

"hey, hee. you ready?" he asks as he tucks in his in-ear monitor, and heeseung shrugs as he takes his place behind the microphone. only then does he notice that the chatter he heard was just two bridesmaids, kim sunoo, riki nishimura and yang jungwon – all friends of yours and jake's that he hadn't bothered to meet further than reading their names in the program. 

he watches silently as you and jake take the center of the dance floor, your eyes slightly reddened as you gingerly drape your arms over your fiancé. your smile doesn't fill your cheeks as jay begins playing softly.

heeseung takes a deep breath, and your eyes catch him as he begins to sing.

one touch, and you've got me stoned. higher than i've ever known…

you were both thirteen.

he remembers the way you held onto him the night that you lost your first mathletes competition. you cried so hard that you'd almost thrown up, and heeseung could only soothe you by dragging you to the nearest convenience store and shoving a melona popsicle in your hand. you went silent after that, gripping his hand tightly as he walked you home. you'd squeezed his hand three times that night, something he'd always done but you'd roll your eyes at.

"why would i squeeze your hand when i can just tell you, hee?"

you call the shots and i'll follow. sunrise, but the night's still young…

you were both seventeen. 

he remembers when you called him to come over while it was storming, because your mother was out of town. your house was a little over a mile away and normally, he didn't mind the walk. it was almost three in the morning, and he'd been sleeping when your ringtone went off for the third time. "hello?" "hee, please come over. it's storming so bad, i'm so–"

he hadn't even let you finish before ripping his bedsheets off his body and sprinting for the door. his clothes, his shoes, everything was soaking wet by the time he got to your house. you'd embraced him anyway, your own clothes soaking through as he trudged into your home – only for the storm to stop a few moments after his arrival.

no words, but we're speaking tongues. if you let me, i might say too much…

you were both twenty.

he remembers when you asked him, in the middle of your kitchen during your graduation party, if he could kiss you. the house was empty except for the two of you – his parents and your mom had decided to throw a joint party, using the excuse that two best friends should always stick together. your mom had sent you inside for more hor d'oeuvres, and you'd dragged him inside with the excuse that you couldn't carry them all yourself.

"you don't have to, hee. i'm sorry." your eyes were full of embarrassment as heeseung stared at you, a bit in shock at your question. only as you begin to move further into the kitchen does he register what you've said, and grabs your arm, pulling you toward him. "ask me again, i'm sorry. i zoned out, i thought you asked me to kiss you."

"i did." you repeated quietly, and heeseung blinked twice before nodding. "o-okay. yeah, i can do that." he cleared his throat, looking over your shoulder into the foyer to ensure no one was opening the door. 

"are you sure? i mean, it's your first kiss, wouldn't you want to have it with someone special?" he's rambling, and your gentle laugh pulls him right back.

"you are special, hee." 

without another word, he backed you up against your kitchen counter, his hands on your hips as he softly kissed you. your hands were on his biceps, and he could feel your nervousness seep through your locked lips. he carefully circles your thighs to lift you onto the counter, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck before he breaks the kiss.

"how was that? okay?" his eyes searched yours, a shy smile playing on his swollen lips as you blinked. "uh, i'm not sure. i think–" "you want to try again?" his head tilted to the side, a habit you loved and eventually also caught. you nodded silently. his smile was wide as he closed the gap between the two of you, the hands on your thighs squeezing softly. once, twice, three times.

i love you.

your touch blurred my vision. it's your world, and i'm just in it…

you're both twenty one.

he remembers how he stared at his bedroom ceiling, clothes soaked in rain from prancing around the city with you. how piercing your words were, how he thought for so long that you believed in him. how all of these events he can't stop thinking about, are about you. how proud he was of you, how lucky he was to have you, how insane it was that you wanted him. you wanted him at one point.

how he didn't care that he got sick, but certainly didn't understand why your sore throat and stuffy nose didn't make him feel a pang of distress. how he didn't care that no one else was refuting his talent, because they weren't you. he didn't care about anyone else in this world, but you.

even sober, i'm not thinking straight…

you're both twenty two.

he remembers his birthday going abhorrently wrong. you weren't there, per usual – you were too wrapped up with school to give heeseung a second thought. he'd long realized that he didn't want to lose you, but it seemed that you no longer cared to keep the friendship alive. he still has the messages he sent you, and is still amazed at the lack of typos despite being absolutely shitfaced.

message to: my y/n <3 [2022.10.15 | 11:23pm] it's my birthday, baby. [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] you can't be here for me today? [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] i miss you. i miss our friendship. [2022.10.15 | 11:26pm] i can't believe you're missing my birthday. i never miss your birthdays. [2022.10.15 | 11:30pm] is this it? are we done?�� [2022.10.15 | 11:34pm] when will you come back to me? when, how much longer? [2022.10.15 | 11:35pm] when you graduate? i can wait. (not delivered!) [2022.10.15 | 11:47pm] just tell me how long. i'll wait. (not delivered!)[2022.10.16 | 12:02am] i'd wait forever for you (not delivered!)

he changed his number after that. he still doesn't know how you got his new one. he doesn't care to ask, either.

cause i'm off my face, in love with you…

you're both twenty five.

he's watching you slow dance with your fiancé, fingers interlaced behind his neck as jake's hands rest on your hips. he hates the jealousy that boils in his stomach, but doesn't bother to break eye contact with the tile on the ceiling with water damage.

i'm out my head, so into you…

he can feel his fingers tightening around the microphone stand, but can't seem to stop his eyes from averting as jake spins you gently, before your soft giggle hits his ears. you look up at jake with what he can only assume is adoration, before resting your cheek on his shoulder. you're looking right at heeseung, mouthing along to the song.

and i don't know how you do it…

you're fixing your posture instead, still staring at heeseung as jake takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. you instinctively smile at the feeling, and heeseung's eyes zero in on your fingers as you squeeze jake's hand.

once, twice, three times. i love you.

but i'm forever ruined by you, ooh, ooh, ooh.

"i love you." your eyes haven't left heeseung as you whisper the words, and you can see the way his eyes fill with fire as he looks away. you get a twisted feeling of satisfaction in your gut, before finally averting your eyes back to your fiancé. jake is smiling softly at you, and you quickly close the gap between you as heeseung continues to sing. your lips press against jake's smoothly, before he swiftly moves away. "i can't wait to marry you tomorrow." he whispers.

"me, too."

liar.

may 02.

the wedding is in twenty minutes.

your pantyhose has ripped, you tripped going up the stairs. you're not even wearing your dress yet. there are storm clouds gathering, and you can’t help but feel like everything in the universe is working against you. the only thing holding you together is your mother, her arms are wrapped tightly around you.

“are you sure we can’t just run away and elope?” you mumble into her shoulder, and your mother laughs. “not anymore. but,” she pulls away from you, cradling your face in her hands gently. “i love you, honey. everything will be okay.”

you hate the churn in your stomach at the word everything. because if everything were okay, it'd be sunny. if everything were okay, you'd be staring down an aisle full of people and only see heeseung at the end of it. if everything were okay, you would've never said yes to that first date.

“i love you.” you repeat, your hand resting on her wrists as you nod robotically. “i’ll see you out there, okay?”

“okay.” you breathe out shakily as she presses her lips to your hairline, lingering slightly before pulling away and leaving your room. you were alone now, and you glanced out the window at all the guests gathering on the beach. everyone is dressed so brightly, bunches of pinks and lilacs scattered across the sand. jake is waiting patiently at the end of the aisle, the forest green of his suit making his skin glow slightly brighter. how he does it, you don't know.

and then you see heeseung.

he’s dressed in black, despite the theme of the wedding being floral and natural. you grimace, forcing yourself to look away before spotting your dress hanging on the back of the door. you'd have to shimmy into it on your own, having sent everyone out in a fit of anxiety.

sighing, you unhook the heavy dress from the door, carefully letting the skirt pool on the floor as you step into it. it slides on perfectly, and you can't help but lose your breath at the sudden weight of the world on your chest. you're getting married, and you love jake.

but he'll never, ever be heeseung.

"tighten up, y/n. you've got this." you shake your head, reaching back and forcing the zipper up as high as you could. you had a hook-and-eye closure at the top, something you'd simply have to forego if you wanted to make it downstairs on time. groaning to yourself, you attempt to pull up the zipper just a bit more, before giving up and covering it with your veil. grabbing your bouquet, you give yourself a final glance in the mirror.

"you've got this. everything will be okay." 

your voice is shaky, but you swing your room door open anyway – only to be met with heeseung on the other side. his eyes widen, mouth slightly agape as you come into his view. "wow, you look…" "what are you doing here? you're supposed to be downstairs." you scold, shoving your keycard into the pocket of your dress. oh yeah, you've got it like that. "your mom asked me to come see what was taking so long. i told her you'd be down soon, but she insisted." he shrugs, so nonchalantly.

like none of this is eating away at him.

"ugh, whatever. come on." your tone is angry, but your face shows nothing but fear. his eyes follow as you storm towards the elevator, seeing the zipper of your dress slowly sliding down as you reach the doors. "here, hold on."

his fingers move your veil carefully as you step into the elevator, before pulling the fabric tighter together and pulling the zipper to the top. he carefully clasps the closure, and you swear you feel every hair on your body sticking up when his fingertips gently graze your back. "don't touch me, heeseung."

"i'm trying to help you. otherwise, you'd flash that entire crowd." he scoffs, pressing the floor button. you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself as the elevator becomes silent. the tension is thick between you, you know it. your eyes never leave the neon sign, watching the floor numbers go by before heeseung reaches over and pulls the emergency lever.

"what the fuck are you doing?! i'm already late!" you gasp, hitting his arm with your bouquet when he stands in front of the lever. "i can't let you do this unless you hear what i have to say."

"heeseung, i'm getting married. this is the biggest day of my life–" your whining is cut short by his hand on your mouth, and only then do you see the unshed tears in his eyes. "the biggest day of my life was when i met you on that stupid playground. i never, ever in my life thought our friendship would end this way, and you know what, it makes me kind of sick."

he breathes deeply, removing his hand from your face as he sees the shock in your eyes. "you're saying you're already late to your big day, well i just want to say i beat you in that department. i've never had a problem with punctuality, but i really missed the mark on this one." his chuckle is dry, humorless as he looks at the bouquet in your hand. "i don't think i'll get over this, ever. i'll never get the chance to be in his place. but," he steps back, fingers gripping the emergency lever in his hand.

"i want you to know that it should be me. i should be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. i should be the one who gets to love you until the end of my days, and even then, you'd never die. you'd be loved by me forever, the evidence strewn all over the world in compositions and lyrics. i would never let you die."

he pushes the lever back, before moving back to his original spot next to you. the elevator doors open, revealing an empty lobby. the storm clouds are no longer that far away, and you can feel the humidity through the open plan of the resort.

"i am foolishly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. and i hope you realize this is the biggest mistake of your life." his voice is soft, as is his smile when he offers his hand. "here's to your forever, my love."

you say nothing.

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if heeseung was anything, it was a sick bastard. a sick, rat bastard who had no shame. your mother took you from his arm at the end of the aisle, and you didn't even realize you'd allowed him to lead you there. jake's eyes shone with what could only be identified as jealousy.

he smiled the entire ceremony, clapping and whistling alongside your other guests through the vows. the sappy vows jake had penned were poetic compared to yours, but he knew what you meant anyway. you felt several fat raindrops plop onto your head and shoulders, while heeseung had come prepared and shared his umbrella with your mother.

he even helped her inside once the rain really started pouring, just after your first kiss as a married couple. your stomach was boiling over in fury as you watched him laugh with her, his eyes only meeting yours once with a soft smile. 

you and jake slipped away to change into your reception clothing, his suit jacket abandoned and sleeves rolled up, showing off the watch you got him for his birthday. your ballroom white dress, now stained with sand, was traded in for an a-line style. jake met you in front of the resort, his fingers curled in yours when he finally spoke.

"we really did it, huh." he says quietly, his eyes scanning the shut doors of the reception venue. you nod, your breath caught in your throat when he takes a step back, his hand squeezing yours. "two years." your ears twitch at this. "what?" "all i ask for is two years. we can have a kid. we'll have an heir to our wills. we can get divorced after two years, and you can be with him." he breathes, eyes following the pattern on the heavy wooden door. you choke out a scoff of disbelief, your throat burning. "what the fuck are you talking about, jaeyun?" he winces at the use of his name, so used to gentle baby and sweetened honey. a sigh escapes his lips as he turns to face you. "i know you love him, y/n. you don't have to hide it from me. you wouldn't have brought him all the way out here, you wouldn't have gone behind my back and changed the plans for the band. your mom loves him, for crying out loud. i never stood a chance." he chuckles sadly, and your tears are hot as they flow down your face.

"how can you say that, jaeyun? i'm married to you, i've chosen you, over anything and anyone in this world! how can you say such things?!" your hurt is evident, but he can't figure out if it's because of the little blame game or if it's because you truly, deeply love him. he doesn't know what to say, but reaches to wipe your tears. you jerk away, a frown etched on your glossed lips as you wipe them yourself. you take a deep breath, grabbing the door knob.

"fix your face." you mutter, a tone jake had never received from you as he sighed, painting a smile of everything's okay on his face as the two of you threw the doors open in unison. your crowd of guests cheered loudly, rice flying everywhere as they welcomed you in. the band was loudly playing got to be real by cheryl lynn, and you almost forget jake's painful words behind the door. you almost forget that heeseung will be queueing up to sing for you and your husband, for free, on the very stage you're now standing in front of. 

jungwon hands you a microphone and two champagne flutes, before slinking away to his seat. you hand one to jake, who swirls it nervously.

"wow, it's such an honor to have all of our loved ones here today." your voice is shaky as you take them all in, dozens of eyes staring you down. "i mean, i've waited for this day since i was a little girl. it's a blessing to finally see it in color, in person. thank you." jake breathes in deeply, before looking away to blink back tears. "i'm not crying, my eyes are just sweating." he speaks into the microphone, earning an empathetic laugh from the guests, your hand ghosts over his back, and he stiffens at it. "i'm so…so terribly in love with y/n. i can't believe this day is real." a soft aww echoes in the room, your chest tightening as you see heeseung sitting next to your mother. he's cooing with everyone else. "and i can't wait to be a man that is continuously worthy of her love. to y/n." 

you almost burst into tears as everyone raises their drinks to you, the clink of glasses adding to the emotion as you and jake find your seats at the end of the hall. you sit gingerly, holding jake's hand under the table tightly. "i love you, jake." "i love you, y/n."

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the speeches were a mess. jay was a mess of tears, and minjeong spewed bullshit about the two of you being like sisters. heeseung hadn't met her until five minutes after the ceremony, and if you had been close to anyone enough to consider them a sibling, he'd know them. no one knew you like he did.

"and now, for the newlyweds' first dance! we have a very special guest singing for us today, please give a warm welcome and round of applause to y/n's longest friend, lee heeseung!" 

he smiled nervously as he took the stage, a puffy-eyed jay sitting behind him as he tested the microphone. "thank you for having me, and congratulations to the newlyweds. y/n, i'm eternally proud of you and so grateful to be here on your special day. i love you." none of the guests know it means something more to him, to you, as they let out an aww. how heartwarming, that your lifelong best friend was here for you. how lovely, that he was supporting you every step of the way.

he sang carefully, watching as you and jake held each other tightly, swaying to the song. he can hear your sniffle, a soft sob into jake's shoulder as he lovingly strokes your back. he looks away.

it should be him.

it should be heeseung, that gets to see you wear white. it should be heeseung, that gets to plan a tedious wedding at your instruction. it should be heeseung that gets to take you on a romantic honeymoon and spend all day in the sun and all night glued to your bed. it should be heeseung that gets to shampoo your hair for you when you're feeling too tired, it should be heeseung that gets to watch you put lipstick on in the morning just to ruin it before you're out the door. 

it should be him. and everyone knows it, no matter if they know your history or not.

"thank you, everyone. let's hear it for the newlyweds!"

october 15.

"hey."

it's been over a year since your wedding. you and jake had happily posted tons of wedding photos, piled over with honeymoon flicks. you and heeseung hadn't spoken since the wedding. he left right after the first dance, catching the first ferry back to seoul. he didn't bother contacting you to see if you'd made it back safely, he didn't bother to message you a happy birthday when it came around. he just didn't care.

he dropped out of college for the second time, and spent the summer going around seoul auditioning for companies. decelis entertainment finally gave him a break, and only after he got his contract did he find out that jake and all of his friends were also at this company.

he was polite in the hallways. he smiled, he waved, he engaged in small talk and perused the past. he didn't ask questions, he didn't initiate. he spent his time holed away in the studio with a producer named yeonjun, recording for hours on end without a break. he was set to debut in two weeks, having dropped his first teaser just two days prior.

all without you to cheer him on.

"what are you doing here?" his voice was cold, nothing you weren't used to at this point. his hair wasn't red anymore, now a natural chocolate brown. it suited him. "came to visit, heard from jake that you've been training for a year." "what's it to you?"

he's being harsh, he knows he's being harsh.

"hey, y/n. nice to see you." jake calls from across the hall, exiting his studio with jay and sunghoon in tow. the two of them seem to say nothing at the sudden casualties between you and jake, or the insinuation that he hadn't seen you in a while. heeseung gives you a glance, your hands holding a gift and a grocery bag. "may i come in?" "i'm busy, at the moment." he coughs, ignoring the way your eyes roll. "too busy for a slice of cake?" you hold up a bag in your fingers, and his eyes narrow. he leans back into the studio, his eyes scanning the calendar for any potential special dates. he's not even flipped to the right month, the calendar reading july.

"shit, did i miss something?" he whips out his phone, which you simply cover with your hand. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you lift your other hand, the gift bag screaming happy birthday in gold glitter flashing at him. "oh, man." he moves away from the door, allowing you to walk in. you look around, and although the studio doesn't belong to him, it sure smells like him. it looks like him, it's covered in him, it feels like home.

"happy birthday, hee." you say gently, setting the gift down on the couch and slowly sitting down to unwrap his cake. "i know it's not much, but i'm barely here." you chuckle, tapping your temple as he takes a seat in his desk chair. he's wary, you can tell.

"something on your mind?" "why are you here? i debut in two weeks, i don't need any bullshit." he rubs his temples, and you only frown. "you know, once upon a time, you would've been happy to have me here." your tone is pointed, and heeseung sighs. "fine, fine. i'm sorry."

"i'm the one who should be sorry." you murmur, and heeseung says nothing. he knows you're right. 

you're both quiet, before heeseung notices the candle next to the cake. he rolls the chair over, his fingers carefully centering the candle. "have you got a light?" 

you shake your head no, a sheepish look in your eyes. "i'm sorry. we can pretend, if that's okay?" he hates the way his lips twitch into a smile at your wide eyes. "yeah, we can pretend." 

you sing for him softly, your cheek squished into your hand as you lean on the armrest. he closes his eyes, making a wish and blowing the makeshift flame out. "what'd you wish for?" you yawn, and he shakes his head.

"won't come true if i tell you." shrugging, he rolls back over to his desk, leaving the cake on the table. you just make a noise of agreement, before a sigh slips past you. "i heard your teaser, you know." he doesn't care to react, only giving you a short sound. "mhm?" "is it about me?" you ask, and he straightens in his chair before spinning around to face you. "all my songs are about you. every single one of them." he gestures to a tattered journal on the soundboard. it's covered in stickers, and…a taped photo of you and him as toddlers. "oh."

"i mean what i say, y/n." he rolls his eyes, before spinning back around. "if it were me, i'd never let you die."

but it is you, you think. it's always been you.

"why did jake say it was nice to see you?" he asks, too cowardly to look you in the eyes. he hears your sigh, before hearing you shift around on the couch. he spins around again, only to see you have removed your shoes and tucked your legs beneath you. his eyes scan you, before looking at your fingers. your ring is gone, replaced by a chunky painite stone in silver. your eyes are gently burning into him, and he shivers in the warmth. "well…why?" "before the reception, he told me he knew." you shrug, "he knew how you felt about me, and how i allegedly felt about you. he brought up my mother, and how he felt like he'd never stood a chance." 

"but he did. you married him, after all." heeseung rolls his eyes as you shrug, blinking slowly as you speak again. "we gave it a good shot. maybe i should've listened to all those superstitions, they're not such bullshit. the tripping, the rain, god, the way my ring was too tight." you scoff sadly, before glancing back up at him.

he seems to understand. if he doesn't, he doesn't say anything. sighing, you reach over to rustle the gift bag with your fingers. "you've got to open this, you know." 

"y/n, i can't do this." he breathes out, eyes screwed shut. "i can't sit here with you and pretend like we're all good, like you're not married to the same guy i share a company with. we stopped being friends a long time ago, what are you trying to do here?" "i'm not trying to do anything but reconnect. i fully accepted the fact that whether or not you're with me, you're still someone i love. i spent years trying to figure out why you drifted away from me, and then jake and i sat down at our dinner table a few weeks ago after meeting with the lawyer and he asked me about our friendship. so i told him everything, from the very beginning."

heeseung can't breathe as you get up, walking towards him and slowly sinking into a squat. your hands are on his knees, giving a gentle squeeze before you speak.

"i'm sorry i made it seem like i had no faith in you. i said horrible things to you, even if they seemed right to me, and i'm so sorry that it took someone else to tell me that i'd treated you so badly that day." 

his eyes are brimming with tears, but he looks away from you. he can't cry, not now, not in front of you. 

"you've always been like that, though." he murmurs, picking at his cuticles when you carefully take his hands in yours. he suppresses a sob as the warmth of you envelopes his fingers, "i was projecting. i thought that everyone had to be like me, that everyone had to have a plan. some people are just better at flying by the seat of their pants, i mean, look at all you've accomplished despite me saying such shitty things to you. you're about to debut, you're going to see great success. everyday i'm rooting for you, even if i'm not the person you go home to."

you give his hands a firm squeeze. once, twice, three times. i love you.

"are you divorced?" 

you scoff out a soft laugh, looking down at his jeans. "jake and i haven't been together since the wedding. we spent the honeymoon playing mermaids and crying over whiskey sours."

"i can't forgive you right now." he confesses, making your head snap up to look at him. he swallows hard, "i can't forgive you right now, because i'm still mad at you. for saying those things to me, and…and you hurt me, when you asked me to sing for your wedding. it hurt me a lot, y/n." "i'm sorry, hee." you whisper, your thumbs wipe at the tears spilling from his eyes. he leans into your touch, before pulling away. "i know you are, y/n. i know."

he gently pushes away, offering his hand to help you up. you take it, and he waits for you to put your shoes on before leading you back to the door. "i'll call you, okay? when i'm ready."

you step out of the studio, peering up at him with sad eyes. "you promise?"

he sighs, nodding his head. "i promise, baby."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[m-oddinsdottir]

COLD STEEL

the shadowsinger and the traitor .ˊˎ 🗡️

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,674

Warnings: takes place in acowar so it may contain SPOILERS from previous books, archeron sister reader, use of a dagger, reader is tied up, angst, betrayal, no use of y/n, mating bond, fluff, images above do not depict reader’s appearance it’s just for aesthetic and I think that’s it

Summary: When your real intentions are discovered by the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you have to face the consequences. Your mate and the cold steel of Truth Teller.

A/N: friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3 this is my first one shot for acotar so of course it had to be about azriel

Masterlist

•••

Gods, how did you end up in this situation? Wrists tied behind your back and a rope that served as a muzzle inside your mouth to prevent yourself from making any sound… Any sound that could mess up with your mate's closed-up mind.

No. You knew exactly why you were there. It was all your fault and because of what? A blinding desire for revenge? Or perhaps it was childish behavior that had made you reach out to the wrong person?

But you were young. Immature. Compared to all those creatures you had sworn once in your life to hate and that now your sister considered a family. They were centuries old, you were just turned twenty-one when it happened.

Twenty-one before your mortality had been taken away from you, in front of your eyes, while you were slowly sunk inside that turbid water of what they had called "The Caldroun"... A powerful source of magic, creator of the world known and theft of yours and your sisters' mortality.

But as theft, as The Cauldron was, it was also generous. So it gifted powerful abilities that seemed to differ from others in that magical end of The Wall.

As a mortal, your impulsivity sometimes took a thick control over your logical sense. And when you were turned High Fae, that only increased. The process of adaptation was hard. You could hear, see, and feel everything. Everything you had ignored before. And the desperation of not knowing how to stop it made you act.

And the King of Hybern was the only solution.

Or so you thought, less than a year as an immortal and you had already made your biggest mistake. He promised he would help you with the emerging powers. You believed him. He swore that if you desired it, he would return your mortality. You believed him. He convinced you it was all Feyre's fault. You believed him.

And the only requirement? You would become his spy. All you had to do was watch and tell. And you stupidly agreed.

Easy job. You already hated all of them... It was their fault you had ended up being swallowed by the Cauldron and resurfaced as one of them. You just had to do as the King said, keep Nesta and Elain protected until the King would turn the three of you mortal again, and then... Then you would figure it out. It was easy, right?

It was easy knowing that you were working with the male who plotted to kill the sister who had saved you from starvation. Even easier witnessing the love they shared, the love of a family... A family bonded by the drawbacks of time and the burdens they had fought together.

Gods...

And it was even easier to betray the male who had silently been by your side, wanting to help and protect you without being invasive. His quiet and cold presence was even more reassuring than a gentle caress or a hug and before you realized, you desired to spend more time with him... Not only in silence.

When the bond snapped, it wasn't a surprise but a relief for Azriel to be able to call you his mate... On the other hand, for you, it was what changed everything.

You were trapped, being suffocated by the feeling of betrayal and consternation. And every time you slept by his side when you were in the comfort of being surrounded by him and him only, silent tears escaped your eyes.

Said eyes widened slightly when he entered the stance where you had been tied up. Azriel was silent, but not his usual comforting silence. The male that looked at you now was someone completely different from the male that held you through the nights, wings wrapped around your body to shield you from any harm.

Your eyes moved lower to his scarred hands, eyes closing tightly as you noticed that Azriel was gripping Truth Teller. The dagger's blade caught the only traces of light that filtered through the darkness of the room and your throat closed as the tears began to pool in your closed eyes, dropping down your cheeks into the muzzle.

Azriel didn't say a word as he approached you. He didn't even flinch when he saw your tears as he usually did every time you cried in front of him. No, he just moved to free you from the muzzle around your lips.

He was determined to make you talk. Your mate seemed willing to torture you until he got any valuable information out of you... Or, at least, an explanation.

Your heart ached at the thought and unconsciously your pain traveled through the bond making Azriel's breath hitch before he shook his head.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled beggingly, your voice sounding strained with emotion. But not because of the muzzle, the rope around your wrists, or the thought of being tortured... Those were the least of your concerns as you observed the male before you.

He didn't answer. ‘Azriel, please...’ You tried again and he looked into your eyes, no emotions visible in his hazel irises. Almost as if he had shut them down. A sob escaped your lips. ‘Please, please... Just—’

Azriel interrupted you. ‘You are not going to trick me anymore.’

The coldness in his words made you fight against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists. ‘I didn't—!’ Lie. You did trick everyone into thinking you were harmless. ‘Please, Azriel... I swear I—’

‘Were you forcefully compelled to work with Hybern?’

‘No, but—’

His firm voice interrupted you before you could try to justify yourself. ‘Did you not spy on us... On me and shared that information with Hybern?’

‘Azriel, please—’

‘Were you not condemning us to a certain death by sharing that information?’

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, looking down at the ground before yelping when his scarred hands roughly held your chin and forced you to look at him. His fingers squeezing your cheeks.

‘Were you not condemning me to death?’ Azriel asked again.

‘I didn't know what else to do.’ You mumbled and then the cold steel of Truth Teller pressed against your trembling throat. Holding back the need to sob, your gaze locked with his.

‘And betraying your family and your mate was the best option?’

‘The bond hadn't snapped when I...’ Azriel pressed the blade closer to your throat but despite his threat, you noticed he was being gentle... The blade was raised upwards to prevent it from slicing your throat and even if he was gripping it tightly, the pressure against your neck was minimal.

You looked behind him and noticed how his own shadows were trying to move him away from you. The dark tendrils were trying to protect you.

‘Look. At. Me.’ He spoke coldly, fingers squeezing your cheeks again. ‘You still betrayed your sisters... And then betrayed me when you kept going.’

‘What did you expect me to do? To suddenly cut connections with Hybern? Yeah, that probably wouldn't raise suspicions, Azriel.’ You managed to mumble, a small frown of frustration over your features as you looked at him through the blur of your tear-filled eyes.

He held his breath as he analyzed you, his eyes scanning the tears that stained your cheeks and how your brows furrowed together. ‘You could have told me.’

‘And then what? The same damn situation we're dealing with now.’ His fingers around your chin squeezed tightly pulling you forward to him. His nose brushed against yours as breaths mingled together. Gods, his turmoil was so tangible that you could smell the inner fight he was struggling with.

He breathed in your scent. ‘I would have helped you... I would have understood you.’

‘Are you understanding me? Are you helping me?’

Azriel called your name in frustration before he roughly shoved your head back. Desperately needing to create some distance between you, he held your chin so that you couldn't lean in closer. ‘Don't say that as if that's not the only thing I long for. Help you, protect you, shield you.’

Hearing the desperation in his voice had you holding your breath. The guilt invades your lungs in a choking sensation instead of the so-desired oxygen. But that's what you deserved, after everything.

‘I...’ Your strained voice broke the silence as you finally looked into his eyes. ‘I just wanted my mortality back, Azriel...’ He sighed shakily before his hand holding Truth Teller moved down. ‘Everything's been so...’ Your voice broke and his other hand moved up to cup your cheek.

‘I know, I know...’ He mumbled and his eyes met you, the same warmth in which he usually held your gaze.

‘I didn't know what else to do... I was so furious with Feyre and I—... I just thought about bringing our mortality back.’ You admitted referring to your sisters before Azriel shushed you, the hand holding Truth Tuller moving down to cut the ropes that held your shoulders to the pole so that at least you could rest your weight against him. However, he kept the ropes around your wrists and legs.

When your head gently hit his shoulder resting against him, his hand moved up to cup the back of your head. Whispering sweet words to reassure you as he held you in his arms, trying to silence your tears as he brushed his lips along your temple.

‘If I could go back, I swear I'll do it... I—’ You trailed off when he began massaging your scalp bringing a sense of calm to your trembling body. ‘Ever since the bond snapped, I've been giving him confusing information. Half-lies... Or entirely nothing. I swear...’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

His words made you nuzzle your nose more against his shoulder. ‘Please, you have to believe me... Please.’

His hand over your cheek pulled you back so you could look into his hazel eyes. Gods, those irises... You could sink into them and get lost in that pool of golden brown. And you would do it willingly. They were your anchor. He was your anchor. Your strength and your liability, both at the same time.

‘I believe you.’ Azriel assured you. Then, the strength of your bond hit you so hard that it caught your breath away. The golden thread looked tangible as it swirled as a bridge between your souls and there you could feel his honesty and concern.

‘I don't know what to do.’ You confessed in a shaky whisper and he rested his forehead against yours. ‘Gods, please hate me. It's way easier than this... Hate me, Az...’ You begged him.

Azriel shook his head before his lips pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Rejoicing the feeling, a soft sigh escaped your lips. ‘I don't hate you. I could never hate you.’

‘You should.’

‘I don't want to,’ Azriel repeated before he gently called your name. The word rolled off his tongue with a soothing tone to it. ‘I don't hate you, baby... And neither does Feyre, nor either of the others.’

When a small sob escaped your lips, his dagger swiftly cut the rope that held your arms and wrists and you were able to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Finally.

Your torso was pressed against his, the soft flesh in your body caressing the hardness of the centuries-trained muscles over his chest and abdomen. Azriel immediately encircled your waist. He needed this. To feel you closer. To know you weren't a threat.

‘No one hates you.’ He assured you gently ‘Elain... She saw your intentions through one of her... Visions,’ Azriel's face contorted into discomfort at the thought of your younger sister having such a powerful ability that she didn't know how to control ‘She defended you and I... I wanted to see it for myself, see that you... That you at least had some regret.’

He loathed the thought of what he had planned to do before entering that room.

‘I wanted to torture you until you would give me something... Anything.’ Azriel admitted and you felt his pain and self-hatred through the bond. ‘But I... Seeing you like this, I can't— I don't...’ His grip on you tightened.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled but he interrupted you.

‘I know you regret it.’ The Shadowsinger mumbled and his dark tendrils roamed down to free you from the rope around your legs. The minute you were free you wrapped one leg around him bringing the male closer to you. ‘Now I see it.’

You two fell into a comfortable silence. He brought you comfort and so did you to him. It was as simple as that.

‘If I hadn't felt any regret...’ You began gently only stopping for a second when the male growled. His chest vibrated roughly, so you placed one hand over the hard tattooed flesh. ‘Would you have done it? Torture me?’

The Ilyrian male froze under the weight of your question. Was that what you believed of him? Did you think he would do you any harm? The mere idea made Azriel want to go through every single torture himself.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly and his eyes met yours again when he pulled away. ‘No. Never...’ Azriel shook his head and then it seemed as if something broke inside him. ‘Never... never...’

He repeated over and over again as he slowly closed the distance between your lips. Lazily, his lips crashed against yours tasting the saltiness of your lips. ‘Never...’ He repeated over your lips. ‘Don't ever suggest it again.’ Azriel mumbled with pain.

His hand moved up to tangle around your hair as he kissed you again, this time it was messier... The male was shaking as he captured your lips with his and he gently pulled away when you choked one of your sobs against his mouth, more tears silently falling and making the kiss even messier if it was possible. A small frown adorned his face as he pulled you closer by the waist after backing away.

‘What can I do?’ You asked, voice strained and tears falling down your cheek until they would wet the dark fabric of his shirt. ‘Please, Azriel, what can I do to amend it?’

His sigh was warm against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin provoking a shiver that ran down your spine. ‘Nothing. You don't need to do anything...’

‘I do.’ You insisted and he shook his head, burying his nose even more into the crook of your neck.

‘You don't.’

‘Azriel...’

‘I... Cassian may have said something earlier that could not be a terrible idea.’ Azriel mumbled against your skin before he moved backward to look into your eyes and seeing your raised brow he sighed. ‘But I don't want you to get in danger just to...’

‘Just to make it up for you? Enough reason.’ You whispered, chin tilted backward to brush your lips against his. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions, Azriel.’

His small grin widened as he answered, ‘I know that,’ when your lips pressed against his in small, gentle pecks. Yet, he couldn't help but keep talking. ‘This shouldn't be allowed… You're compelling me with your kisses.’

‘Am I now? What a shame... Poor Spymaster can't handle some kisses?’

The moment he confessed, ‘Not when they're yours,’ you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. You paused your kisses and instead nestled your nose against his, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

‘Please, Azriel... Just tell me what I can do.’

He groaned under his breath when your presence clouded his thoughts. ‘Cassian mentioned that you could gather information for us… Misinform Hybern and extract intel from him.’

Your brow raised with interest.

‘Perhaps I could teach you the art of espionage, my mate... Be one of my spies… What do you think?’ Azriel mused, his gaze penetrating as he locked his gaze with yours.

Oh, how the tables had turned on Hybern.

[sharonccrter]

I saw this really interesting video, which talked about my two biggest gripes with challengers' discourse. Which are that everyone keeps saying Art is the heart of this movie, and secondly, the insistence that Patrick doesn't love Tashi, only Art. The creator pushes back against these two narratives, and I wholeheartedly agree. Patrick is arguably the heart of this movie.

Two of the most important scenes in the movie are the churro scene and the scene between p/t out in the storm, and they both centre around Patrick.

The entire movie is about passion and purpose in life, and Patrick is the passion.

I mean, a lot of people assume Patrick didn't really have feelings for Tashi, but the only person who says that is Art. Who is vying for Tashi and is his biggest competitor. The reason I empathise with Patrick is that he is genuine and loving to Art; he does love him. However, we are shown no evidence to suggest that Patrick is this shitty boyfriend, apart from what Art says when he's trying to get into Tashi's head because his jealous. We find out that they're talking every week while he's on tour (normal relationship shit). It's Art who insinuates that Patrick is cheating while on tour. The only person in this movie who says Patrick doesn't love Tashi is Art, and it's obviously very intentional.

I think the reason both Tashi and Art push Patrick out of their lives is because he forces them to comfort parts of themselves they are not yet comfortable with. I mean, it's obvious why Tashi would react that way to Patrick; she's just lost the most important thing in her life. However, I think it's tragic from Patrick's point of view as well. I mean, what did Patrick really do? He got into a fight with his girlfriend because she hurt his feelings.

And no, he's hurt was not about Art. The fight made him feel unimportant, which made him feel like she didn't actually care about him. And that's where Art comes in, because who was going around telling Patrick Tashi didn't give a shit? You bet ya. Art. Art absolutely got into his head. And even if he clocked it, in that moment, he still allowed it to get to him because he was emotional and upset. And because he was too hurt to support her, he was thrown out of Tashi and Art's lives.

And here's the thing, Patrick never saw Tashi as an idea. He saw her as a real person, unlike Art kinda did. Patrick wasn't going to let Tashi treat him like shit just because she was special. And, tbh, if Tashi hadn't gotten injured, I think it's something she would have eventually been grateful for. But instead, she got hurt; she pushed Patrick away, and Art slid into his place, telling her that she could be his entire world and the star. That's not healthy, and sorry to stay a little manipulative.

And let's talk about Art. Patrick and him were literally fire and ice. They always had this underlying desire. They were perfect opposites. Let's face it: Art could never replicate what he had on the court (and off) with anyone else. But instead of confronting his feelings, he took the first chance he had to get Patrick out of his life.

The girl I was watching said it perfectly, "Art and Tashi allowed themselves to find consolation prizes in each other and allowed them to run from parts of themselves they didn't want to comfort and in turn enable each other's worst habits."

Art tries to become a tennis superstar so Tashi can live through him, and Tashi gives him a family so he can finally be confident in who he is. But is there any passion? I don't know; I think at some point, it drained; nothing about what I saw on screen apart from their initial get-together screams passion.

Cue Patrick walking back into their life and showing them how they can feel. Art was always going to let Tashi live through him, but that was never going to be satisfying for her. Tashi needs to find a way to create an identity for herself, separate from him. And I believe it'll be the only way she'll live a satisfying life. That's why they need Patrick: to make them realise that and to help them rediscover their passion.

I think people think that Art is the heart because Patrick admits to being a piece of shit. But the truth is, they're all dicks; Patrick was just the only one who was willing to admit it.

[minty-mumbles]

LU Survey 2024 Results

The long awaited results of the survey. Thank you guys for being so patient with me :)

There were 350 responses to the survey this year! Not as many as there were last year, but still impressive. If you want to look at the raw data for this, you can do so here

Demographics

General Questions

Favorites and Least Favorites

Blank Space Question (Select Answers)

I'm so normal about Legend (the biggest lie I've ever told)

WIND BABY WIND OUGH IHGH UUOA I AM SICK FOR HIM MY SKRUNKLE MY OUGHGHHGJUA BELOVED

Remember that fandom is a community! Reach out to each other and learn something new! Give someone a compliment! Ask them a question! Encourage new artists and writers who are still learning! Thank you Mint for doing the survey again, too!

The fact no one has thought of calling Warrior's Zelda, "Areia" hurts me deeply "Hyppolita" even, please, with how much shipping there is between them, people sure are eager to name her after goddesses who have vowed to never have romantic relationships.

I dont think the fandom talks about it but i really love that every single piece of sky clothing is embroidered, because unless skyloft has embroidery machines thats all hand done. Which means either someone he knows makes a lot of them and gives them out freely (i give most of my projects to friends and family) or he would have paid someone for it, which means that either someone on skyloft lives of decorating clothing (and likely other fabrics) or someone just uses it to get some extra money (both are amazing since in the modern day people dont want to pay for handcrafted works what its actually worth)

Shark skeletons are made of cartilage, not bone

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this. 🦆

FOUR SUPREMACY🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥💚❤️💙💜💪💪💪💪🔛🔝💯💯💯💯💯

No but the Athena/Artemis thing is so real. What’s up with that. Why did we pick Artemis? Why did we do that?

I find it so funny how the fandom has decided to call Dark Link "Dink" because whenever I play a Zelda game I name my character Dink or Dinkus :D I started doing this waaaaay before I knew about LU

Im so excited for Echos of Wisdom! I find it really funny that Nintendo keeps making it harder for JoJo to stick to the plan, I'm pretty sure it's Legend and Fable but I'm not certain any ways Im really happy!

I love how LU is a culmination of so many of my favorite tropes from other fandoms! It’s been really comforting and nostalgic for me despite the fact that I only got into it this year. Especially since so many creators I liked have been getting revealed as problematic, it’s nice to be able to fall back on fictional characters who can’t ruin the lives of real people. :)

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable. 

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock. 

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact. 

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade. 

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now. 

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand. 

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada. 

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada. 

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating. 

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task. 

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.” 

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.” 

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!” 

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected. 

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers. 

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.  

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on. 

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper. 

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much. 

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that. 

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing. 

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face. 

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!” 

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock. 

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement. 

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted. 

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.  

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that. 

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face. 

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one. 

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions. 

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him. 

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter. 

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray. 

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes. 

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing? 

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ. 

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.” 

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!” 

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it. 

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood. 

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake. 

She did. 

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.  

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic. 

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul. 

But she was wrong. 

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language. 

Losing. It was all about losing. 

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love. 

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together. 

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.  

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses. 

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.) 

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen. 

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…” 

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip. 

You had gone slack in his arms. 

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple. 

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day. 

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other. 

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back. 

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time. 

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap. 

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort. 

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface. 

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass. 

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there. 

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action. 

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again. 

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.  

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you. 

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right. 

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough. 

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision. 

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing? 

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family. 

You had died in his arms. 

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.  

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind. 

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless. 

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?” 

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood. 

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out. 

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!” 

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides. 

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake.  “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!” 

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings. 

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name. 

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…” 

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister. 

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively. 

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty. 

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy. 

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart. 

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake. 

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do. 

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails. 

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon. 

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still. 

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng. 

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once. 

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well.  “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children. 

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful. 

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed. 

It would never fly again. 

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.” 

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be. 

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one. 

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain. 

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman. 

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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[lawchwan]

love alphabet (law)

note: i found this alphabet template but i can't find the original creator since i found it. if anyone knows, please inform me so i could credit.

Disclaimer: its mostly sfw but P, K, and Y, as p and y are nsfw and k is suggestive. also, i tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as i could but some may be referenced as fem... but the majority is gender neutral.

crossposted in ao3

A = Affection (PDA, what sort of affection they give)

as many as one would say about him and pda, i’m also a firm believer that law is not a big fan of pda. however, that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t enjoy showcasing his love for you. everyone has a love language and law has one, and its quality time. your mere presence calms him down, so he puts in the efforts to incorporate you in all activities he’s in in the modern universe, and all adventures in the canon universe (as long as you’re not injured and are nowhere near in danger).

however, he’ll only do any form of pda if he’s feeling jealous and possessive and sees someone trying to make a move on you, so it's not like he minds it, it's more of his comfort.

furthermore, he’s EXTRA affectionate in private. I’d even argue that he’s much more clingy in private than he is in public. he’ll never showcase that clingy whiny side of his in public and if you so mention it to anyone, then trust you’ll lose all privileges.

B = Babies (Anything you want about babies)

for law, I don’t believe he’s the type to want kids. I don’t think he’s against it, I just think he’d rather have pets/plants than actual babies. I can see him being a cat dad honestly.

but you best believe that if you were to have his kid, he’d be such an attentive and overprotective father and if anyone ever so lay a hand on his child, he’d sure cut their limbs into pieces. (both literally and figuratively)

C = Cuddles (How they cuddle or are cuddled)

it truly depends on the mood and who initiates it. if you saw him lying in bed or on the couch and you got on top of him, he’ll just wrap his arms around you as you lay on his chest. he’ll probably also have a book in his hand, so in true law fashion, he won’t say much so he’ll just do the action more than say anything.

simultaneously, when you lay on the bed and if he’s really tired due to work, he’ll just groan and pull you into him and let himself lay on top of you with his face nuzzling on your neck without suffocating you. you’d simply ask him how his day went and he’d just grumble back an “nghh” which means ‘I don’t feel like talking, let me just lay in peace’ and you just simply rub his back as he falls into a slumber.

TLDR; he can be a baby when he’s tired

D = Darling  (Pet names)

He's not the biggest pet name guy but he’s the type to call you “babe/baby” if not by your name or how he’d call you “(y/n)-ya”

E = Enamored (how hard do they fall when in love)

you know the trope “they fell first, he fell harder”? I feel like if law was a trope, he’d be that.

law is nowhere near affectionate or emotional, but once you came into his life, you’ve impacted him in ways no one would think of, and yet you’re all he thinks of. he would even “subtly” mention you from time to time, and he wouldn’t notice how much he talks about you until Shachi and Penguin call him out on it and make fun of him for it (and he’d be in denial about it of course)

“y’know, (y/n) would love this necklace because it has their birthstone on it and I know how much they—“

“We know, bro, you’ve talked about them in the past hour.”

“NO, I DON’T!”

F = Firsts (A first on anything you pick)

if one would ask the two of you how your first kiss went, you’d get different responses from you and Law; with you finding it adorable and endearing, and him finding it embarrassing.

you two were in his room, alone, and watching a movie that you two have been wanting to watch but never got the chance until now. but despite the desire to watch, the two kept glancing at each other (mostly initiated by law, but he could never admit it), one hoping the other to just make a move.

law was never that experienced so he was nervous. using his knowledge from his time as a medical student, a little bit of his general psychology course, and the shows and media he consumes, he just went for it, and to say he went in deep would be an understatement.

although you were shocked at first, you kissed him back but you noticed that he suddenly went stiff and didn’t move as smoothly as he first did, so you pulled away and asked him if he was okay. and he looked at you like a deer in headlights.

“… I froze, didn’t I?”

law refuses to retell that story and is embarrassed every time you mention it.

G = Good Morning (How do they wake you up)

you’re dealing with an insomniac man, you tell me how it goes.

no, but in all seriousness, he’ll be very groggy so he’ll probably be the type to oversleep, so you have to wake him up. but if he ever woke you up, it’d probably be if he accidentally made his presence loud and you crave him.

but if you two happened to oversleep, then you got Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo barging in, yelling, and jumping on the bed to wake you two up like they’re overgrown children.

(in the modern universe; he’ll just push them out and glare at them to get out. meanwhile in the canon universe; he’ll simply use his devil fruit powers and just switch them out with specs of dust around the polar tank)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs?)

oddly enough, for a cold individual, his hugs are warm and soothing to have around. again, he doesn’t give out hugs to anyone except you and maybe Bepo, but with that fact, his hugs just hit different with you.

he rarely asks for it, and he’ll give it to you if you want it… however, remember how I said he’ll participate in doing PDA if he’s feeling possessive? yeah, you best believe he’s the type to hug you from behind as you talk to the individual in front of you.

think like this:

I = In Labor (Labour and Delivery)

oh, you’re highly blessed to have law by your side. As a doctor, he’s very much prepared to take care of you while in labor and knows how to keep calm in your delivery process.

but deep down, as your boyfriend, he’s highly concerned and scared for you and your baby.

suffice to say, underneath that stoic, calm, and collected doctor, is a very scared man who wishes he could get rid of the pain of his significant other.

J = Jealousy (Are they jealous? How do they handle it?)

I’d say Law is a very secure guy in his relationship and once you’re in a relationship with him, you’re expected to be loyal to him as he is to you, so he has nothing to worry about if you fulfill that promise.

however, he does have his moments where he needs to step in to showcase to the person in front of you that you’re off the market and that you have a boyfriend who’s not afraid to cause chaos for their sake.

I’d say he’s more possessive than jealous.

K = Kisses (How do they kiss? How often?)

oh, his kiss just hits differently as much as his hugs.

while he hates PDA (or so he says), he is the type to give you a quick peck before leaving somewhere for an entire day, whether privately or in front of people. just a quick peck on the cheek or forehead in public, on the lips in private.

speaking of privacy, his kisses are also very loving in private. he loves to get into full-on make-out sessions with you on the bed, sometimes it does get sexual, but other times you two can’t get each other off of each other.

L = Loyal (How loyal are they?)

the law would kill for his crew, and you’re as special as his crew. law gives me the vibes of “I’ll take a bullet for the one I love, and if I survive, I’ll kill whoever tried to hurt the one I love” and it's a big claim since law is a very distrustful person and doesn’t let ANYONE in his life that easy.

so if you ever thought of breaking your loyalty and betraying law in any way, you’re practically dead to him.

M = Memory (Their favorite memory about you?)

when asked about your favorite memory, you’d say “Your first kiss with him” and he would yell at you, “NO!”

all jokes aside, his favorite memory is possibly when you two started working together. he can’t pinpoint why, it's not like you guys met under the best circumstances, but when you two started talking and getting to know each other through work, he started to get enamored by your presence and just wanted to know more about you.

N = Never! (Dealbreakers)

breaking your loyalty to him and you deliberately expose his vulnerable side to other people. Any betrayal is a big dealbreaker to him, but these two would set him off. like I’ve mentioned above in the loyalty section, do either of these and you’re dead to him.

O = On the Rocks (How do they make up?)

law is not the most emotionally intuitive but that doesn’t mean he’s not emotionally intelligent. While Law is not the most talkative, he does try to communicate with you and you two mainly hash out your problems and apologize if needed.

however, law is a levelheaded person, so as long as you don’t pull any dumb stunt like a certain someone, *cough* luffy *cough* you’re fine.

P = Playtime (Any headcanons on sex)

While Law’s not the most vocal, he’s the type to let out groans and slight whimpers in your ears when he reaches his climax.

and while he enjoys being dominant during sex, he does want to tap into his submissive side sometime in the future (which includes pegging), but his pride wouldn’t allow him. maybe it's a trust issue thing, so once he can trust 100%, he can reconsider

Q = Quiet Time (How do they wind down?)

just simply having your presence calms him down, especially when you two cuddle on his couch/bed, that sure puts him at ease.

R = Rapture (What makes them happy?)

your judgment-free perspective and your ability to hear him out without outright criticizing and mocking him makes this man feel so at ease. and with your loving smile, it sure makes his dopamine levels go up.

S = Soulmate (What do they think of soulmates?)

I don’t think Law would be a firm believer in soulmates. I don’t how to explain it but he never came off as someone who believes in such things due to him feeling like each time he gets close to someone, he loses them. so finding a “soulmate” doesn’t sound like something he’d be interested in.

however, with having you and his crew, he believes there’s something deeper to it, just like how he felt with Corazon… but he’s afraid that with that deep feeling, that would mean he’d lose you guys…

it's very complicated and he can never give you a direct answer, so oftentimes he’ll either say no or I don’t know.

T = Together (What do you like to do together?)

lounging around and reading a book together. sounds very typical of law, but what else could he do? he’s not the most extroverted individual and he certainly doesn’t like loud environments so having some quiet sessions with you is ideal for him.

U = Unyielding (How do they handle interlopers in the relationship?)

law is the king of being unbothered and masters the art of not giving a fuck. not to toot his own horn, but Law is hyper-aware that he’s good-looking and anyone would wish to be in your position. while he doesn’t see what you and others see in him, he understands that people do fawn over his intimidating and mysterious aura.

so he does get girls (and sometimes guys) to throw themselves at him and try to get in between you and him, only for him to embarrass them by apathetically rejecting their advances. no amount of luring could ever get to him as he would just hit them with his signature scowl and roll his eyes at them. his love for you is THAT deep.

meanwhile in your case… I’d be a broken record so go back to the jealousy and the whole PDA discourse.

V = Vulnerable (Are they vulnerable often? How do they handle it?)

law is not always vulnerable, thanks to his pride, trust issues, and trauma, but when he does become vulnerable, you better keep that shit to yourself and bury it in your grave. That's an oath you need to keep.

you’ll see him sometimes start tearing up and talk about how much he misses his family, old friends, and Corazon. his face would become red due to his crying as he pouts and starts to talk about his feelings.

you’d comfort him and eye him with a loving and supportive look. he would make eye contact with you through teary eyes and witness your look. that look solidified his trust in you and how comfortable he is talking about his feelings.

W = Wedding (Wedding headcanons)

law is not a big celebratory person, but he doesn’t simply want a courthouse wedding. not because he doesn’t want it, but because he knows that his crew would pester him for it and you would just laugh at their arguments, even if you don’t mind having a courthouse wedding.

so he’ll just have a small wedding, think kind of a backyard type of wedding where only the closest people are in attendance. while it's not big, you two would wear your elegant wedding attire and you two would shine together.

he just loves the small intimate ceremonies where all his favorite people gathered around and no one to disturb this beautiful moment.

X = (E)x (How do they handle exes? What do they do if they see them)

law is not that experienced in relationships so it's not like he had many exes and if he were to have one, he’d not acknowledge them if he saw them from afar. if they did walk up to them, he’d simply just apologize and walk away. it's not that law is not confrontational, it's just, what the hell was he supposed to do? the relationship’s done, there’s nothing to reignite.

I feel like Law’s the type who would not go back to his ex, even if he fell hard for them and still has slight feelings for them.

Y = Yearning (What do they do when they miss you?)

he’ll never admit it, and no matter how many times you’ve caught him, he’ll still not admit and deny it, but this man takes your clothes and/or pillows and constantly smells them until he sleeps.

it started with your pillow from your shared bed. you left to hang out with ikkaku and you may have lingered a bit longer than expected, and you came back later than you should have. you expected to be lightly scolded by law as you walked into the room, but instead, you were met with the sight of him sleeping with your pillow (and your discarded hoodie from earlier?), wrapping its arms around it like how he’d usually do with you.

it was an adorable sight, and when you call him out on it he’d be like “Huh? What are you talking about? I probably moved in my sleep” Yeah sure, Jan.

**NSFW**

furthermore, law has stolen your panties previously. when you were gone, Law, unfortunately, caught himself in a position where he desperately needed you. he eyes down at the imprint between his legs through his sweatpants.

he palms it as he hisses out a light cuss, wishing you could just walk in and take care of him, but he knows you won’t be here anytime soon. so he’ll take the closest thing to having you, he gets up to your drawer and fishes out your lace underwear.

he stared at it as he went back to his chair and he proceeded to palm himself through his sweatpants once again. he gripped your panties as he lowered his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock, gasping at the air making contact with his sensitive skin.

he cusses at himself and calls himself a pervert for doing what he’s about to do as he wraps your panties around and starts to stroke it.

little does he know, you came in earlier than expected and walked into the hottest sight you’ve witnessed.

Z = Zzz… (Sleeping headcanons)

law is a small spoon, argue with the wall. he loves to lay on your chest as he enjoys the sound of your heartbeat (no pun intended), while he wraps his arms around your middle. he also loves it when you stroke his hair, it makes him go to sleep almost instantly as you see him roll his eyes and began to let out a tiny snore as he falls to sleep.

he sleeps like a baby all in all, and you love to take care of him.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey there sex witch! This one might be a little bit out of your wheelhouse, but I don't really have anyone else to ask 😅 and this seems mostly relevant to what you talk about.

So recently I (a very shy person for a long time) have gotten pretty active in some fandom discord communities, and I've been making a ton of friends. Which is great because I used to have social anxiety to the point where I could barely talk to people, especially online. The problem is that my new friends are all VERY horny, all the time. Which, great for them, I don't really feel the same way. They're also very interested in ERP and other varieties of e-sex and often ask if I want to join. I really don't, but it's fine that they're into that. One guy in particular is really starting to freak me out though. He's a semi-popular creator and a mod on one of the servers. He's becoming a pretty good friend of mine and I play online games with him and others a bunch. He, like the rest of the crowd, is also very horny all the time. He often makes sexual comments about me, sometimes very graphic ones. Stuff like telling me to take my clothes off IRL while on call with him or saying stuff like "I want to fuck you until you cry" or just dming me asking if I want to have sex with him. Sometimes he notices that his comments make me uncomfortable and he did reach out to sincerely apologize for it once, but he hasn't changed his behavior a whole lot.

The big thing that worries me about him is the fact that he's 28. I'm 18, just graduated high school. He knows this about me. He does a very good job of keeping his server 18+ and would never make a sexual comment about a minor, but is still comfortable doing sexual things with people ten years younger than him. Another thing is that even though I've told him I already have a boyfriend, he assumes I'm in an open relationship even though I never told him I was. My boyfriend also says this guy kinda freaks him out and that he's a little worried about me.

I know that age gaps between older people can be perfectly healthy and problems arising from them vary pretty heavily from person to person, but I'm not entirely sure if this is ok or not. This guy doesn't want to hurt anyone. Have I probably just not properly expressed my boundaries with him? It's not like he's targeting me or anything, he acts this way with basically everyone. I'm torn on what to do, he's still my friend and I like him otherwise. Should I just keep laughing it off? I am uncomfortable but I guess it's not a huge deal to me. Should I stop talking to this guy?? Help??

🐟🐟 So I can find this quickly if/when you answer it

hi 🐟🐟,

this guy fucking sucks and needs to be banned from interacting with maybe anyone until he learns what "no" means. literally every individual thing you've described him doing would be alarming in it's own, but altogether this man is a walking collection of red flags. this is not your friend and this is not a guy who cares about your boundaries or well-being; this is a man using his fandom clout to sexually harass you (and likely others). him being ten years older than you isn't even really the biggest issue here; all of this would be shithead behavior even if you were exactly the same age.

get out of there, double fish.

[sunshine-on-marz]

JEALOUS RANBOO AND WILBUR (seperate) x FEM!READER. ITS A NEEEEDDDDD.

Ok so I really hope I do this ask justice

(I added Tommy and Jschlatt bc they’re my sillies)

Wilbur〞

-He’s not a super jealous person person

-Lies^

-He’s more scared that someone will be better than him

-Which is dumb

-Because he’s so boyfriend

-So when an (admittedly handsome) guy starts flirting with you

-He’s quick to walk over and justly kiss the top of your head and introduce himself

- “I’m Wilbur, their boyfriend. Who are you?”

-His voice almost shakes but he pulls it together

-He needs lots of extra cuddles that nights

Ranboo〞

-This guy is another not jealous but just scared one

-They just want you to be happy

-But they’re really scared that it won’t be THEM making you happy

-So when you’re laughing and smiling with some guy he doesn’t know he suddenly gets quiet.

-Stops mid sentence with Aimsey

-Texts you a quick “can you come see?”

-You happily walk over and they kiss your cheek

-The guy you’d been talking too immediately walks off to some girl across the room when he sees you with who you’re clearly dating

-Then it all clicks to you so you’re glued to ranboo all night and everyone is happy

Tommy〞

-This dude doesn’t get scared he just gets sad

-Walks over and asks you “who’s this?” with the biggest puppy eyes and it breaks your heart

-“It’s just my friend Tom, [Friend] this is my boyfriend, Tommy, Tommy this is [friend]”

-Then he’s fine

-But he does stay next to you for the rest of the night

Jschlatt〞

-Ohhh this guy

-He’s more possessive if anything

-He trusts you more than he trusts himself

-He knows you wouldn’t cheat

-But he still doesn’t like his partner getting flirted with, because who does?

-So when someone from the staff at the creator party you’re at gets a bit to comfortable Schlatt is fast to step in

-“Hey toots, who’s he?”

-^Said in the worlds snarkiest voice

-Hands grabbing your hips and chin on your head as he smirks at the guy

-You, being oblivious to the man’s real intentions, smile and introduce the men to each other.

-Schlatt won’t lead you away from the guy, infact, he encourages you two to keep taking

-But he stays put right behind you

-Starring daggers at the man

-So the conversation ends rather quick 

——————

I fear I may have gotten carried away at the end there

[notjustjavierpena]

Doesn’t javier’s wife get tantrums when she is pregnant?

Unreasonable (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: She sure as fuck does. Javier is too in love with the idea of her carrying his child to get mad about it though.

Summary: First-time pregnancy and a husband who breathes a little too loudly is enough to make you rage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, pregnancy and all the following symptoms (e.g. puking), pregnancy rage, cravings, kisses, reader is hormonal and unreasonable

Word count: 1.5k

Unreasonable

“Could you breathe a little louder?” You ask from the bed. You throw your novel to the side, unable to concentrate, while sending daggers in your husband’s direction. 

You are sitting against the headboard of your bed with all the decoration pillows scattered across the sheets, unable to find one that seems to do the job of supporting your aching back during your first pregnancy. This second trimester is hell on Earth; morning sickness, sore breasts and back, hormones running amok in your system, and no way of getting comfortable. It doesn’t help that Javier seems physically unbothered, daring to move around with ease in your shared home while folding laundry. 

“Honey,” he says gently, turning towards you with a smile that you find provoking, “I’m not breathing differently than I usually do.”

You seethe from your position because you know he is right. The book you were reading amongst several candy wrappers lies face down next to you as if it’s hiding before Javier has figured that is what he should be doing too. You cross your arms over your chest but your boobs feel too big and sore for you to do it the way you normally would. Every instinct in your mind is telling you to attack because you have no way of seeming reasonable in this, “Do you have to squeeze a soccer ball out of your pussy in three months?”

Javier raises his eyebrows at your crude choice of words and your terrifying mental image, “No…”

“That’s right,” you huff and then suddenly you are off into a scolding interrogation that Javier can do nothing about but endure. Your stare can freeze the sun, “Let’s see. Do you have to pee all the time?”

“No…”

You go on, “Do you find yourself crying over commercials on the TV with no way of stopping it?”

“No.” 

“What about your pelvic floor?” You think smoke might be coming out of your ears, “Do you feel like it is going to rupture when you try to reach something you have dropped on the floor?”

“Honey…”

“Does your back hurt so much that you contemplate if it’s easier to just pee your pants instead of getting up?” You ask. Ironically, you have the biggest urge to get up and pace around the room like a caged animal.

“I could massage your back,” he suggests so sweetly but not even that can calm your rage. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” You growl, “This is your little fucking love-goblin growing inside of me and all you had to do was grunt like a caveman and roll over.”

Javier blinks, trying a feeble protest, “Baby… I don’t think tha—“

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me!” You rage against him, heart beating rapidly in your chest, “I am here either suffering in bed or waddling around like a goddamn incubator! The least you can do is try to make me feel better!” 

“I just offered a massage that you declined so maybe you want some time for yourself instead?” He tries again.

“Time for myself? How on Earth am I supposed to spend time for myself when you are breathing so loudly that our neighbors can hear it?” You avoid his gaze. 

He opens his mouth to speak but you are not done.

“Not to mention the nausea that follows me everywhere I go. Quality time with good old nausea!” You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “If I had a dollar for every time I have puked up my guts since you put this baby in me, I could buy myself a private island and be rid of your wheezing airways!”

You inhale deeply and frantically as you run out of breath. It’s then you decide that you are done, scooting further down on the bed to lie down on your side with one of the pillows supporting your pregnant belly. 

You fume quietly. Javier stands immovable. 

Eventually, you pout too. Your husband moves to stand by your side but he doesn’t touch you, “How about we order some food? Do you want to order some food?”

“Actually, Javi, no, I don’t want to order some food,” you reply, still with an attitude. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He gently presses on. 

“Yes, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t say it.”

“I’m gonna order some food for myself then,” he lets you know, walking back to pick up the laundry basket. 

“Yes, fine, whatever,” you sigh loudly, “I don’t care.”

But you do care. As soon as the doorbell rings with Javier’s food delivery, you have thought about the million different things that he might have gotten for himself to eat and it has caused your stomach to rumble. You pout for real this time. 

Eventually, it becomes too much and you get onto your feet, tiptoeing down the stairs to satisfy your curiosity. You don’t need the food; you just want to see if your guesses about Javier’s dinner menu are correct.

You peek out from behind the door frame, staring into the kitchen where he is placing the delivery bag on the counter. The whole house smells like pizza and fried food, the scent having dragged you downstairs to gaze longingly as your husband is rummaging through the plastic bag to empty it of its contents. 

You spot the box of french fries next to a strawberry milkshake and frown, shifting slightly where you stand and trying not to feel emotional about your stomach growling for food. You lean your cheek against the doorframe and sigh loudly. 

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” your husband suddenly says and even if you purposely made him aware of your presence in the room, you still feel on the spot when he notices you. 

“Hi,” you try to get a better glimpse of what he has ordered for himself, “What are you having?”

“I decided on that pizza place on the corner where you also get your haircut sometimes,” he says nonchalantly and you curse your emotions for getting the better of you earlier. You love that place. 

“Really?” You whimper. 

“Yeah,” he continues and stuffs a few fries into his mouth as he takes out a pizza box from the bag, “I really wanted one of their shakes. You know… the ones made from three scoops of ice cream? And then I thought I might as well get some fries because you taught me about dipping them into it, remember that?”

“Y-yeah,” you suddenly feel your bottom lip starting to tremble. The idea of not having a strawberry shake in your hand and their pepperoni pizza with a stuffed crust is close to torture, making you so unbelievably upset that you start to cry big and ugly tears. 

Javier tenses. He abandons the food on the counter the second he hears you, taking long steps to get to you quickly. He wipes his fingers in his shirt so he can brush tears away from your face, cooing softly as you wail, “Honey, shhh… There’s no need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, I was so mean,” you blubber to the point where you are heaving for breath, pregnant belly jumping as your whole body trembles, “I didn’t know that I wanted their milkshake and pizza so badly and now it feels like I am missing out. It’s really stupid but… The baby wants that strawberry milkshake, Javi.”

“I know,” he soothes and laughs softly as he brings you into his arms, giving you a hug whilst you continue your miserable crying, “That’s why I got you one.”

“What?” You sniffle, pulling back to look at him and showing off your red, puffy eyes. 

“I got you a shake,” he clarifies with a small smile, “And I ordered you a pepperoni pizza too.”

Relief washes over you and you cannot help letting out a little, shaky laugh amidst your tears, “You did?” 

Javier nods, eyes soft and smile warm, “Of course, I did. Te conozco (I know you).”

“With a stuffed crust?” You ask, suddenly shy and looking innocently through your lashes. You feel like you’re thirteen again, crushing on your husband all over. 

“Stuffed crust,” he confirms and the smile turns into a grin. He presses a kiss to your cheek and blows a raspberry until you giggle, “No need to cry. El bebé sabe que su mamá está triste (The baby knows their mom is sad)."

“Can’t have that,” you wrap both arms around him and repeatedly kiss his face; nose, cheeks, lips, chin. He closes his eyes, taking each with a sigh that’s nowhere near annoyed. You kiss his lips in the end, “Gracias, esposo (thank you, husband).”

“De nada, mi amor (you’re welcome, my love),” he lets go of you after one last kiss, walking to dig out one more strawberry milkshake from the plastic bag and then handing it to you. 

You take a long sip and do a happy dance without thinking. Meanwhile, Javier gets out your pizza too and suddenly all memory of why you were so angry earlier is gone.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[mariclerc]

More parts of An unexpected role! Lily meeting the grid and all drivers are wrapped around her finger, spoiling her and everything, plus lewis Hamilton being protective about y/ n and lily treating them as his honorary daughter and granddaughter, and lily having a little baby crush/ being fond of Oscar Piastri or Ollie bearman and not wanting to leave his side.Then the other leclerc brothers (Arthur and Lorenzo) and drivers are jealous because lily doesn't give them attention.

Thank you very much for this request!! It seemed very adorable and cute to me since I had imagined what Lily would be like attending to her first race... so here you go!!

An unexpected role (pt.5) | cl16

Summary: you revealed your little secret to your date, you didn't expect he would take it so well. Warning: none, just fluff + the drivers falling for Lily and spoiling her A LOT.

a/n: part five of “an unexpected role” I hope you like it!

follow the series!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

ynusername

liked by joris_trouche, itslolasss, pierregasly and others.

tagged charles_leclerc

ynusername guess where we are going this weekend 🫣🎀

see 1.738.653 comments

itslolasss nO EAY

ynusername hehe yup bestie 😋

itslolasss pls keep me updated this weekend babe, I need all the details

ynusername yup yup captain 🫡

user7 IT'S HAPPENING EVERYONE, THE LEC FAM ON THE PADDOCK THIS WEEKEND 😭😭😭😭

user4 OMG OMG OMG OMG EVERYBODY CALM DOWN, THIS IS HAPPENING

liked by creator

logansargeant finally we will meet the popular Lilyyy

arthur_leclerc finallyyy

georgerussell63 the official mascot <3

lilymhe I'm happy to meet you both 💗💗💗

ynusername omg omg im waiting 🩷🩷

carlossainz55 lord perceval biggest fans

ynusername that's for sure

charles_leclerc I'm excited to have you both this weekend, my loves 🤍🤍🤍

ynusername and we are happy to accompany you my love 🤍🤍🤍

Charles iMessage

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You never thought you were going to end up in an F1 paddock with your boyfriend and your little Lily... But there you were both, accompanying Charles at the Belgian Grand Prix, -the last stop before the much anticipated summer break, It was the first time that you and Lily were going to witness the F1 action live, of course, you watch it on television in the comfort of your bed and support Charles at all times, but there is nothing compared to seeing it up close.

You and Lily walk through the paddock while Charles has his hand on your lower back, the three of you have a very noticeable smile on their faces and no wonder, he is over the moon that you and Lily are accompanying him this weekend, it's like having extra motivation to do well in front of the two of you.

“Are you excited Lilytunes?” Charles softly asks Lily, who is wearing a Ferrari shirt that says on the back: "Daddy's #1 fan", she nods at his words. She smiles with her eyes wide open, observing everything around her and he gives her a kiss on the cheek, you also do the same, it is much more impressive to see it in person than on television, the amount of people working to keep this show going is incredible. “And what about you love? Are you excited too?” He turns his head towards you to give you a small peck on the lips, you nod smiling.

“Pretty excited honey... I still can't believe that Lily and I are here!” You say with a dreamy face and he smiles showing his dimples. You don't care that there are 20 cameras around you trying to get a good angle of the wholesome family moment, you only care about him and Lily. “This is so amazing here!” You say excitedly as he lets out a small giggle.

The three of you walk towards the general hospitality, basically the joint place where the drivers and their families can relax and have a good time, to keep the harmonious atmosphere outside the track. You and Charles sit next to Lily on one of the comfortable sofas of the lounge area, just at that moment, most of the drivers get into a hurry... Maybe they are excited to meet the ferrari's golden boy little daughter.

You grab Lily in your arms and you bounce her softly. “Look Lily! I think you have a fan club now, isn't that cool?” You say as you stroke her hair and she smiles. “And of course, we're going to see dada race here!” You say, nuzzling your nose against hers.

Lily claps her hands excitedly. “Dada fast win! Vroom!” she giggled.

Many of the drivers come to see this weekend's star, and it is no wonder since Lily radiates charisma and tenderness in her wake. One of the first to speak was Hamilton.

“Hey there Charles, how's everything going?” He says greeting Charles with a pat on the back and then turns his attention to the two of you, giving you a kind smile. “And who's this little cutie? Is it perhaps the popular Lily and y/n?”

You blink for a moment. “Popular? How is that possibl...” You were going to continue talking but Lewis subtly interrupted you.

He nodded. “That's right! Charles won't stop talking about you two, he gets very excited when he talks about you, I swear his eyes had a special shine.” He finishes and you turn your gaze to see Charles, who is scratching the back of his neck embarrassingly and has red cheeks that match his Ferrari shirt.

Lily watches Lewis curiously. “Hi!” she says shyly as she hides in your chest.

Lewis smiles at Lily. “Hello Lily, it's so nice to meet you! Your daddy tells me you're his biggest fan!”

She smiles at the mention of Charles. “Dada fast!”

Lewis giggle and pulls out a little Mercedes cap for Lily. ”That's right! And you know what fast cars and daddy's need? Fast fans! Here you go.”

Lily's eyes light up, and she takes the cap with a giggle.

“Thank you Lewis, that's so sweet!” you smile shyly at the British.

“Don't worry y/n! I'll always look after my honorary daughter and granddaughter here.” he said with a smile.

Charles rolls his eyes playfully with a smile. “Thanks Lewis, you're spoiling Lily already.” he smiles softly.

The rest of the Thursday afternoon is a whirlwind of introductions, after the respective press duties, other drivers stop by, charmed by Lily's infectious smile, she gets a mini Red Bull helmet from Max Verstappen, a Ferrari cap signed by Carlos Sainz, a Williams blue hoodie from Logan Sargeant and a tiny McLaren t-shirt from Lando Norris. Lily becomes the star of the General Hospitality area, the drivers take turns stopping by to say hello, giving her gifts like miniature helmets and team t-shirts. Arthur and Lorenzo try to get in on the action, but Lily mostly ignores them, captivated by the older Ollie Bearman.

You giggle. “I think your plan to make it only have Ferrari merch is going very wrong amour.” You say while looking at Charles, who is watching Lily coexist with the other drivers.

He smiles. “Well, I can't blame them... Our little girl is a sweetheart, don't you think?”

You nod happily. “Of course she is, darling.”

***

Friday arrives and that's when the action really begins, all the drivers and teams prepare for the first practice sessions of the weekend, Lily is very happy and so are you, you two find yourself in the Ferrari garage using the headphones to listen to Charles's radio.

“My dear, look, it's dada! He's driving really fast, don't you think?” You whisper to Lily and she smiles and giggles as she sees Charles on the screens.

“Dada fast mama!” She says and you nod smiling. At one point she sees that on the other side of the garage is Ollie Bearman, Ferrari's reserve driver, she almost screams when she sees him and starts to smile a lot. “Ollie! Ollie!” She says between babbling, trying to get the attention of the young British man and he smiles when he hears her and approaches you both.

“But it's the little Leclerc! How are you cutie?” He says, greeting Lily sweetly, she gives him a thumbs up and he laughs. “Hi y/n, it's nice to finally meet you.” He said, extending his hand and you accepted it smiling.

You smile shyly. “The pleasure is mine” Lily starts to move in your arms and makes grabby hands towards Ollie, you let out a chuckle. “Looks like you have a little fan here, Mr. Bear.” You say and he smiles, Lily throws herself into his arms and starts pointing around.

“Are you sure it doesn't bother you?” He asks timidly and you deny.

“Slides! Slides!” Lily says pointing towards the exit. “Ollie, slides!” she says taking the collar of Ollie's shirt in her small hands.

“It's okay Lily, we'll go to the slide.” Ollie says with a shy smile as he takes off his and Lily's headphones. “I will bring her to you safe and sound.” He says and you smile and give Lily a kiss on the forehead.

You watch as Lily leaves in the British man's arms, what you didn't notice was the presence of Arthur and Lorenzo, probably looking at you in a state of shock.

“How does Lily prefer to be with bearman than with me?” he scoffs.

You smile innocently. “Let's say Lily has a little crush on Ollie.”

Lorenzo moves his head, denying several times. “Nah, nah, nah, she is too young to fall in love.”

You were so focused talking to the Leclerc brothers when you three didn't notice that practice had already ended and that now you had the presence of Charles, who made himself known by giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“What's happening gorgeous?” he asks you softly.

Arthur pulls his hair, frustrated. “Lily went with Ollie to the slides!” He says totally stressed while you and Charles just giggle. “She doesn't want to be with us anymore.”

“Oh god, Are you two seriously stressed about that?” He asked and Arthur and Lorenzo nodded, he laughs.

“I think Lily has a little crush on Ollie.” You whisper to Charles.

He grins. “I wouldn't be surprised, he's good with kids.”

After that meeting you accompany Charles to Ferrari's Hospitality, and after he changes his clothes, they go out in search of Lily. You manage to find her in a playground area for the little ones, she is smiling as she slides down the slide and Ollie watches her carefully.

Lily manages to spot you two and runs off the slide and then ends up in Charles's arms. “Dada!” she says happily.

Charles opens his arms to welcome Lily. “Hello there petit papillon! Did you see dada on the track?” He says while tickling her tummy. (little butterfly)

She nods and giggles. “Dada supa fast!” she says content.

“Oh but of course I was honey, pretty fast, don't you think?” he asks her and she nods.

“So fast!” she giggles again.

At this point almost everyone in the paddock adores and loves Lily, so much so that they spoil her with gifts and sweets, and she clearly loves that. You feel happy because you feel that it is where you two should always have been from the beginning, and the fact that Charles has talked non-stop about you two from the very beginning makes it so special, since you can see the love you radiate as a family.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

ynusername posted a story

itslolasss have fun today pretty girls, good luck to charlie from me 🩷🩷

ynusername Believe me, Lily has the most fun, everyone spoils her so much... I think I had to bring an extra suitcase for all the souvenirs.

itslolasss hahahah, she deserves it, you both deserve it actually!!

The weekend unfolds in a whirlwind of activity, Lily becomes a permanent fixture at Ollie Bearman's side, much to the amusement (and slight jealousy) of the other drivers. Arthur and Lorenzo try in vain to win her attention, showering her with toys and sweets. But Lily's heart belongs to Ollie and the shiny Ferrari little car he gave her.

Now it is Sunday, the most anticipated day, you and Lily meet again in the Ferrari garage, you both watch Charles prepare to leave for the starting grid, but not before approaching you.

You smile softly at him. “Hey bébé, are you okay?” you asked him softly. (baby)

He shrugs. “I think so... I want to do well for both of you.” He says and you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose. “To be honest with you, I'm a little bit nervous.” he whispers.

You just smile at him again, you more than anyone know how anxious he sometimes gets before the races. “You will do great my darling, but one thing is for sure... Lily and I will always be proud of you no matter what happens.” You whisper to him and give him a small but necessary hug. “Now go out there and attack them all, okay?”

Lily smiles at him and hug him too. “Papa win?” she asked him.

He smiles. “We will see it my love, we'll see.”

The atmosphere is electric as the grid forms up. Lily sits on your lap, bouncing with anticipation while you both look at the screens where they show the formation of the starting grid. You feel nervous inside, something that always happens to you when you watch the races at home with Lily, but this time it is much worse, you feel anxious and expectant of what could happen and what Charles can do on track.

The race starts, and Charles battles his way through the field, since he started from P5, Lily cheers him on with every overtake and you do the same, you two are probably the most enthusiastic fans in the Ferrari garage, Andrea, Charles's personal trainer, smiles when he sees you two so happy and bubbly with every action Charles does on the track, he knows how important it is to Charles that you two be there for him.

You smile at Lily as you watch Charles move into P2 mid-race. “Oh god, look at papa go lily, he's really going for that win.” you whisper at her.

Now it's the last lap and Charles is neck and neck with Max for the race win, Lily is on the edge of her seat.

“Come on, Charles... You can do this.” you say while holding your breath.

Charles makes a daring move and takes the lead. Lily erupts in cheers. “Dada win! Dada win!”

Charles crosses the finish line first and the crowd goes wild. Lily jumps up and down, clapping her hands. You have a smile from ear to ear and no wonder, the first race you attend as a family and he decides to win for you.

The mechanics congratulate you two and seeing that everyone is going to the podium, Lily also wants to go, you are a little hesitant to really go there until Andrea takes you and Lily to the podium.

When they arrive at the parc fermé area, they see everyone in a state of ecstasy and happiness. Charles gets out of the car raising his arms in celebration and goes out to hug his team. You smile when you see him so happy and proud of himself... When he takes off his helmet and balaclava, he looks at you two and smiles from ear to ear, he runs towards you to give you both a huge hug and he kiss you on the lips, not caring who is looking at that wholesome moment, you feel him smiling in the kiss and you smile too.

***

After the podium, you and Lily wait for the champion in his driver's room. Both of you can't stop feeling excited and happy about what you've just experienced. After a couple of minutes, Charles enters holding his winner trophy, you and Lily rush to congratulate him.

“Papa win!” she smiles as he hugs her back.

He hugs Lily tightly. “That's right, sweetheart! Papa won for his two biggest fans!” He winks at you.

You smile and kiss his cheek. “We're so proud of you baby! You did a great job out there!”

“A job that would be impossible without my greatest supporters.” He smiles again, like a little boy.

“I know sweetheart.” You say and notice how Lily starts to yawn against his shoulder. ”Looks like all the excitement is catching up with our little champion... Time to head back, I think.” You let out a giggle.

He giggles too. “Right, just let me take a shower, change and we'll go, it's that okay?” he asks and you smiled and nod.

“As you say captain Lec!” you say and he laughs, you take Lily back into your arms and she lays her head on your shoulder.

***

The door clicks shut behind you as you enter your hotel room. Charles carefully lays a sleeping Lily on the bed.

You carefully undress Lily to put her in a onesie pajama. “She must be exhausted. What a whirlwind of a weekend!”

“She's out like a light. All that cheering must have tired her out.” he giggles softly.

You finish putting her pajamas on and you pull the covers gently over her small frame. “But of course, she was very happy to see you in your element, love.” you smile again.

“The best kind of whirlwind, you know? Seeing her so happy... it makes everything worth it.” He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you.

You lean your head on his chest. “Seeing you win was so so special too. You were pretty amazing out there.”

He kisses your hair. “I couldn't do it without you two there.”

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment. You listen to the soft sounds of Lily's breathing.

“I still can't believe how much attention she got from all the drivers. Lewis practically adopted us!” you say.

He chuckles. “He does have a soft spot for kids. And let's face it, Lily's pretty irresistible.” He says.

“Especially to Ollie. That boy is a natural with her.”

He raise an eyebrow playfully. “Don't worry, are you jealous love?”

You punch him lightly on the arm. “Maybe just a little... Don't you want her to be a daddy's girl?”

He nuzzles his nose against yours. “Of course I do babe. But seeing her happy makes me happy, no matter who she's playing with.”

You look out the window at the city lights twinkling below. A comfortable silence settles again.

“This has been the perfect weekend. Maybe we can bring her to another race, you know, after the summer break, what do you think?” you ask him softly.

He kisses your forehead. “I'd love that chérie. We can make it a family tradition.” he sighs contently and then he whispers. “Thank you for everything. This weekend wouldn't have been the same without you two.”

You place a kiss on his jaw. “It was nothing, thanks to you for letting us fully enter your world, love.” you whisper and he smiles.

He pulls you closer, and you lean into his embrace. The sound of Lily's gentle breaths fills the room, a peaceful melody after a whole weekend of a high-octane excitement... The hotel room, bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp, feels like a haven, a family haven. You close your eyes, picturing future races with you and Lily cheering her Papa on, a happy sigh escaping your lips.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

charles_leclerc

liked by antoinetruchet, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff and others.

tagged ynusername

charles_leclerc first P1 of the year!! 🏆 I can't stop thanking the team for the hard work that has been done in the last few months, it has been quite hard but it was all worth it 💪🏻 I also want to thank my biggest fans ynusername and little miss Lily, who accompanied me on their first gp weekend!! 💗💗 Thank you very much my loves, thank you for always supporting me and being there for me at all times 🤍 Thank you for making this weekend even more special for me, love you lots!! 💗💗 Now is the time to recharge and come back better than ever 💪🏻💪🏻 see you in zandvoort!! 🇳🇱

see 2.637.863 comments

user4 oh my, the kiss and hug on the podium was incredible to see, congratulations champ!!! 💪🏻🏆

georgerussell63 it was nice to finally meet Lily this weekend, the official f1 mascot 🫶🏻🫶🏻

landonorris she owned the paddock the weekend, she left me without candies :(

charles_leclerc stop‼️talking‼️about‼️my‼️ daughter‼️ please‼️

lorenzotl let's go little brooo!!

user1 the official f1 family 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

alex_albon little Lily was the star of this weekend <3

ynusername oh babeee 🥺🥺😭 don't thank us, we are more than happy to accompany you and support you every weekend if necessary! We love you so much champ!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

charles_leclerc honey, I love you both so so much, thank you for coming with me, I really can't find how to thank you 🥹🥹💗

ynusername you don't have to do it, it's not necessary my love 💗💗 now let's focus on taking that well-deserved break, because I think we deserve it ☺️☺️

charles_leclerc I'm looking towards it amour 🥰🥰

user6 oh my heart... the last picture, Lily looks so adorable and cute with her Olaf backpack 🥺😭

logansargeant the most wholesome family on the grid 🤍 congrats dude!!

lewishamilton it was lovely to meet Lily and ynusername this weekend 🤍🤍 you have a beautiful family mate

charles_leclerc thank you lew 🤍

ynusername it was also lovely to meet you too Lewis <3 <3

[captaincapsicle83]

One Night Stand

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I don't know if anyone's noticed, but Clint Barton is my muse and he runs the cult...that I'm...in (I hope we get the reference or I sound insane). I just like writing silly Clint into my silly stories, I just noticed that theme.

TW: cursing, mentions of glass, mentions of injury,

Summary: You wake up the night after one of Tony Starks' biggest parties. And you're not in YOUR bedroom.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Tony Stark x reader (platonic), Bruce Banner x reader (platonic)

You wake up, light streaming through the blinds onto your face. You groan. This is why you got rid of the blinds, light always came through them.

...wait a minute.

You already got rid of the blinds.

You shot up in your bed. The bed. It wasn't yours. This pillow wasn't yours, this black comforter wasn't yours, and these clothes...

Holy mother fucker of Odinson.

You weren't wearing any clothes.

"What the fuck?" You say, out loud and clear. Something stirs in the bed.

You look over in horror, and an unidentified lump is hidden beneath the covers.

Okay, you think. Nows your chance. Nows your chance to be a reasonable adult, and talk this out with this person.

(Within seconds you have gathered your lost articles of clothing and dashed out of the strangers room).

You were lucky in a sense, the sense being that this person lived in the tower that your best friend owned. Him and all his avenger friends lived here, and he gave you a room on his floor that you used sometimes.

Oh shit.

You slept with an avenger.

And it wasn't even Thor. He wasn't ok earth right now. That sucked. He was on your bucket list.

You sat on your bed, pouting mostly, wanting desperately to nurse your throbbing hangover.

You didn't quite have the guts to leave the room just yet. You remembered the in-building AI right at that moment.

"Friday," you croacked out. Your mouth was horribly dry, and you were also in desperate need of some chapstick. "Where's Tony?"

You weren't sure exactly the extent of what the AI could do, but she seemed happy to answer you.

"Mr. Stark is in his lab, accompanied by Dr. Banner. Would you like me to page him for you?"

"Can I just...go there?" You asked. Your room was much darker, having black out curtains instead of blinds.

Curse the blinds. And their creator. Edward Bevan. Curse him.

"Of course, Miss L/n."

Luckily for you, you knew where Tony's lab was, and what floor number to press in the elevator.

You kept your eyes closed on the blinding ride down, the bright fluorescent lights giving you an aneurysm.

The lights in the lab were even worse.

You walked into the room, eyes squinted and using your hands to shield yourself. Tony clearly found this hilarious, chuckling like an idiot.

Not even chuckling. The bastard was giggling.

"Lights not made for a hangover sweetheart," He shook his head, and you shit him a snarl and a death glare. Bruce gave you a sympathetic look and was holding out a bottle of water.

"You know any trusted detectives?" You asked, smiling at Bruce, and taking the drink from him gratefully.

"Ooh, for what?" Tony asked, looking intrigued. "Spill the tea sis."

You did, two mouths were agape when you finished.

After a minute of silence, Tony whips his head towards Bruce, "Was it-?"

"No!" Bruce scowls, then cringes and looks at you. "Not that-...I'm not saying...I wasn't even drinking last night, I would remember."

"Oh-kay," Tony says, exasperated. "We'll it wasn't me-"

"Thank god."

"It wasn't...Thor."

"Unfortunately."

"And it wasn't Peter...he doesn't have a room here."

"And he's a child!" You mention, giving Tony a disgusted look.

He waves you off, tapping a little metal tool to his forehead, presumably to help him think.

"Anything you remember? Did you get a look at them?"

You think about what you could possibly remember. Last thing last night was downing shots with Tony and a bunch of his friends, and getting told names you didn't commit to memory.

"They still have blinds in their room," you throw out there, shrugging. Nothing else came to mind.

"Friday," Tony calls out. "How many avengers on the 93rd floor have blinds in their room still?"

"About 7 sir," she answers. The only woman who would ever call Tony Stark, and the likes of him, sir.

"Which ones?"

"Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, Vision, Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton, Mr. Barnes, and Dr. Banner."

"Yay!" Tony says, and you can't pin if it was sarcastic. "That leaves six."

"Yay," you and Bruce both answer monotonously.

"Hmm," Tony taps his chin. "Do you think putting out a message, asking who got laid recently, would be too bold."

"A little," you responded, arms crossed.

Tony sat down at his table, you following, and poor Bruce too, who clearly was sucked into this against his better judgement.

"You don't happen to remember what room?"

You did not. You had dashed so quickly, and it all kinda looked the same.

"Who do you want it to be?" Tony whispered. "We can just...let you pick and say you did 'em."

"Bartons kinda hot," you shrugged.

"Bartons kinda married," Tony mimicked your expression.

"He was...big...er..."

"Are you fat shaming your fuck buddy y/n?"

"No! I'm just saying...They werent...I dont think it was Natasha."

"Yeah, neither do I. So, assuming Bartons faithful, that leaves three men and a robot."

"Does vision have a-..."

"No."

"So then, that's three men," you say.

○○○

Tony invited you to lunch with the team. Subtle.

You, him, and poor Bruce (still looped into the mess) stood at the back of the room.

"Okay, so...I was thinking," Bruce starts. Tony looks surprised at the input and begs him to go on. "Well, if everyone's here, you can go look at those threes rooms, and see if they look...familiar?"

Bruce's suggestion let's a hush fall over the three of you.

○○○

The first room you entered, Sam Wilson's. You knew immediately it wasn't the right one, it being surprisingly bright in nature.

But, you were a nosy little fucker, and therefore when you saw the pictures that, from afar, looked a lot like Captain America fanart, you had to take a gander.

A few cellphone photos later, and you stuffed the drawings back into the drawer they were sticking out of. You thought about the luxury snooping would be, but figured your luck was being pressed already.

The next room was right next to it, belonging to Bucky Barnes.

You turned the handle of the door, carefully making your way in while watching the hallway. You had to be sure no one saw you enter.

Your back still to the room, you carefully and quietly shut the bedroom door. You had your phone still out, in your right hand.

You turned around, and dropped the Stark branded cellphone to the ground. It was new, without a case, therefore you were probably shit out of luck.

You didn't have time to check on it though, because your bright ass didn't check the room for occupants.

Well, occupant. The occupant.

Bucky Barnes.

The blinds were open, shining midday light into the room. The dark bedding was in a disarray ok the mattress, a clear indicator of a rush out of it.

The man looked at you, mouth slightly agape. Your mind was racing, a thousand miles a minute, trying to find a good way to break the silence.

"Did I have have sex with you?" You wanted to slap yourself silly.

He seems to have to take the time to pick his jaw up off the floor. He clears his throat (ew, fuck, was that attractive? Were you attracted to that?), and says, "Well...maybe I need to explain a few things."

"Do you?" You question, your voice about ten octaves above where it normally sat. How many times could you ask yourself, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He seemed to swallow (and you only noticed because you were absolutely OGLING his features), and trys to talk, coming up with nothing.

He motions for you to sit down on the little couch he had, matching his dark aesthetic.

"Let me just tell you what happened last night."

○○○

"Do you still have a dartboard?!" You screamed into Tony's ear. No reason to. It was the after party of the real party, the only people left were the residents of the tower.

"Ooh! Yes! Darts!" Tony hopped up, like a joyful child.

"No!" Steve grabbed the back of Tony's shirt, pulling him back. Tony's dramatic ass flopped himself onto the floor, whining like a toddler.

"I never get to do anything fun!"

You had abandoned the idea of darts, and were now playing a game of dodgeball with Clint. Except that there were no balls, only drinking glasses.

It was around that time the sober members elected to take the drunkest of the drunk to bed.

Steve took Tony, Bucky chose you over Clint (leaving Nat stuck with him).

Clint collapsed himself to the floor, smashing his knee on a pile of drinking glass shards (you had missed).

"Point by omission!" You yelled like a battle cry.

Bucky touched your shoulder, "Cmon doll, let's head to bed."

"For you? Anything!" You threw the glass you were holding in Clints direction, and he screamed at you in Arabic (no one knew Clint spoke Arabic. Upon questioning, neither did he).

Bucky got you to the hallway, and that was about as much as he could do without picking you up and carrying you to bed, which he admitted he would have if you didn't scream in protest when he tried.

He led you to your room, and left.

He got in his bed, closed his eyes, and let out a breath. Before he could process the sound of his door open, you catapulted yourself onto the bed.

Apparently, he tried to send you back a couple times, but after that you would start removing articles of clothing everytime you came in.

Well, that explained that situation.

"So I eventually just let you stay," Bucky shrugged. "I was tired."

You couldn't decided whether to laugh or cry, finally saying, "Holy fuck, I'm so sorry."

Bucky let out a loud laugh, his smile cresting dimples under his eyes, "Trust me, don't worry about it. Steve is a much worse drunk."

"I'm gonna need that story."

"I could tell it to you over dinner," You almost don't take it in before saying yes. You only hesitate slightly, before smiling and agreeing.

That smooth fucker.

[honeyhotteoks]

okay SO... in absolute lusty haze I started to listen to an augustinthewinter audio per your recommendation, got to the end of the free version and immediately became a patreon subscriber😫 I have to know which augustinthewinter audios inspired these yunho fics... i'm too curious !!

I hope you're having the best vacation btw <3

!!!!!! amazing - honestly i love him as a ns/fw creator so much that i am so glad i was able to send any amount of attention from that post.

as far as which audios are inspiring which thoughts....... there's a few in particular i need to write for yunho and for others......... a few that i'd love to get out for kinktober but i'm so behind on writing that atp i can't really make any promises BUT -

distracting your gamer friend over voice chat gets serious (🎧🔞reddit) - yunho x reader. i genuinely dislike almost every gamer fic i've ever read but this audio literally changed my brain chemistry. so i'd love to write what i want in a gamer yunho fic using this audio as a jumping off point. but essentially, gamer!yunho / neighbor!yunho x gamer!reader verbally fuck with each other while gaming and when reader loses a bet he gets to come over to your place and do what he wants to you. fucked by your secret ghost roommate on halloween night (🎧🔞 reddit) - ghost!mingi x student!reader; the idea is essentially mingi used to live in her dorm and died there and he has a lot of unfinished business.... namely he's a virgin (not that he's going to tell reader that). she knows there's a ghost, he's watched her hook up before/touch herself, and she's into that..... but when her plans fall through on halloween night and the veil is thin and mingi realizes he's kind of corporeal? well all bets are off. plus this gives me the chance to write overly confident with his words mingi who turns out to be a subby whiner the minute he actually gets to touch the girl lmao hooking up with a masked stranger at the halloween party (🎧🔞 reddit) - boyfriend!yunho x girlfriend!reader; while august's audio isn't necessarily preplanned relationship cnc, i think that's what i'd be more comfortable writing. but yunho and reader essentially decide to go to a masked halloween party and pretend to be strangers to fulfill one of his biggest fantasies. so she dresses up as the final girl and he dresses up as a psycho killer in a mask..... and the rest is between them and the house party basement. temping your favorite tailor at your dress fitting (🎧🔞 patreon exclusive) - tailor!seonghwa x princess!reader; after years of having a close friendship with your personal tailor and dress designer, you need to take your engagement dress for a fitting. you're about to be married off to a man you don't know in a country far away from seonghwa and everything you've ever known.... and you find yourself alone with him, confessing your fears and your true feelings for him in the middle of your fitting. def a more tragic romantic vibe than august's audio, but you know i'm about the angst.

anyways there's more because frankly his scenarios just eat it up they're the best, but these are the ones i reallllllly want to write some short smutty oneshots for (short like 5k-8k because lbr i can't shut up ever)

also small disclaimer, august has said that he doesn't mind people writing fics/works based on his scripts as long as it's actual inspiration / not plagiarism

[bowieandqueen11]

The Strawhats Celebrating Your Birthday Would Include…

Request: hello 🤍

my birthday is Sunday the 18 and if you’re taking requests still was wondering if you would write about how the Strawhats would celebrate your birthday!!

My lovely happy happy happy birthday!! I hope you had a really lovely day, and I'm sending you all good wishes and my biggest hug! :)

I'm getting back into the swing of writing after surgery, so please bear with me!

This is 5k, so quite a long one!

Warning: a little strong language, descriptions of light making out and mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credits go to @icythot-bakubitch, @calim3ro, @zorobae, @adhdthomasthorne, @goodsirs and @icythot-bakubitch.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Luffy

I mean, I love Luffy so much but it's hard enough to lug this man off you when it's not your birthday, but when it is?? You better be prepared to grow a fifth limb with the name Monkey D. Luffy.

You're trying to unwind with Nami on the sun loungers after your look out shift? Luffy appears on your lap like the crack of a reddening storm, raging clouds held in his eyes as he grasped his hands around your neck and bent you down. Without a second thought for Nami's grossed out grimace, Luffy's nuzzling his nose against your own in a fervent sweetness, his whole body aching and twisting against your knees as he sweeps little puppy licks up and down your face.

You need to talk to Sanji about what ingredients he'd like you to pick up on the next island the Going Merry is docking at? Because you legit tried to run away from Luffy's clinginess for a while, you and Sanji give each other nervous side glances as his cup of tea starts rippling on the counter. All that floods your ears is the sound of pounding sandals growing like thunder claps across the boards, before you're flung sideways with the intensity of Luffy's leaping jump onto you. What he didn't expect, however, was for Sanji to be baking a cake for you. Cue the bowl full of batter he was stirring disappearing in a splotch up in the air, only for it to land with a resounding splatter across the top of Sanji's blonde hair.

You try and take a moment to train with Zoro? Before the swordsman can even hand you one of his weights, a look of pure terror widens your eyes as two snake-like appendages come slithering around your waist. As the fingers spread comfortably across your bellybutton, latching together so you're caught in a powerful vice, you're flung backwards and into Luffy's grinning face.

Be prepared for at least a full hour of Luffy keeping you in his lap. His words become more and more jumbled as his lips drag across your neck, small swipes of his tongue over your skin making your breath hitch. From time to time you manage to make out breathless fragments of 'so sweet for me' as Luffy's fingernails dig almost painfully into the meat of your hips, followed by a devastating whine as he bucks his hips up against the curve of your bottom. Of a panted 'you're the best thing I've ever tasted' before Luffy bit down carefully onto your shoulder blade, teeth latching into your skin.

I mean, of course Luffy asked poor Sanji to prepare a huge feast in your honour! Before any of the rest of the crew can join, though, Luffy's has haphazardly balanced the plates along his arms, dragging you across the boat to join him for a make-shift picnic on the figurehead. He tries his best not to stuff all of the delicious meats, pastries and fruits into his face, he really really does. The two of you manage to find a compromise: Luffy will sit cross legged in front of you, feeding you the pastry he wants to scoff down himself in a birthday act of self restraint. Although his fingers nearly claw into your mouth with how excited he is, the best part of your compromise is how he's allowed to taste the crumbs my kissing them off your lips!

But bless his heart, he's so giddy to celebrate your birthday that his rubber body is vibrating so hard his head is almost slamming against the floor. You have to make him slow down, because he wants to run around everywhere on some grand adventure with you. The crew eventually give up trying to follow and head back to the ship, because Luffy is dragging you off to cuddle among the fields pocketed with fire-snapped wildflowers: crawling the two of you into the dark recesses of coves on a hunt for hidden treasure, and nearly getting the two of you stuck up the boughs of a prickly tree because he was trying to pick some exotic fruit as a present for you. The whole time, the tight grip he has on your hand is only loosened right before he gives your fingers an excited squeeze, (or when he realises he's running so fast his feet are nearly wheeling off the ground, his elongated arm and your poor panting body so far in the distance you look like little dots against the rolling hills.)

Before the two of you board back onto the Going Merry again, Luffy grabs both of your hands and stops you on the dock. There was an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes: something so aglow in his grin, in the study of his lambent eyes as they darted over your own that almost made you feel... embarrassed. Nervous.

Before you can make eye contact with your Captain again, the scratchy brush of something being placed on your head distracts you. With a lopsided smile, Luffy's hand pats the straw hat firmly down so it crests just above your eyes, before his fingers run down the string.

'Look! It fits you perfectly!'

He nips his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, leaning his lanky body down towards the warmth radiating off your body. You flush, believing your boyfriend is about to kiss you again, but this dopy ass lovestruck idiot is so overwhelmed and so so sleepy, that with a content sigh he falls on top of you. Before you can register your ass hitting the salt-stained wood of the docks, Luffy's cheek is pressed up against the side of your own, his mouth fluttering over yours as he snores soundly; as you try to shove him off, his arms wind at least ten times around your waist and effectively pins you to him like glue.

Big thanks to Zoro for being the only one on the crew brave enough to venture out and see why your flickering shadows were rolling about the pier: why there was so much mewling echoing out over the railings of the boat from down below. With a tired sigh, he just threw your boyfriend over his shoulder and tucked him into his hammock for the night.

Zoro

Roronoa Zoro, ahh the man who full on owns my ass. Let's be real though, since this man is so forgetful he would be such a teasing asshole on your birthday.

First off, this man definitely sleeps in. He's too busy hugging on to you: his calves are heavy as he slides them in between your own, a snort huffing out of his nostrils as he buries his face into the back of your neck like his salvation lay deep within the warmth of your skin. The tight security of his strong arm finally unwraps from around your waist when he gets up to train without another word: without any acknowledgement, any hint that the man knew how special today was.

But god, of course he knew - he knew everything about you: every detail, every idiosyncrasy, every quirk and giveaway and bad habit. And if he didn't love them all - if his constant observation, constant silent adoration of you didn't prick his sorry heart with a thousand deep lashes of longing.

Cue your confused frown as you finally got up to go look for your boyfriend training on the deck, only for him to be nowhere in sight. Wandering around the Going Merry, the annoyed grunt of your boyfriend's increasingly amplifying voice finally reaches your ears as you pass the kitchens.

Turns out, as Zoro asks for you to accompany him on look out duty in the Crow's Nest that night, that he had spent most of his day obnoxiously doing his best to threaten work with Sanji to create you the perfect birthday cake. The look of surprise that dawns like crested sunlight across your face as you notice the mountain of blankets spread out into a real makeshift nest, as well as the plates of desserts and charmingly wonky lantern lights strung along the wooden circle makes having worked with the waiter... slightly more bearable.

Before you can say anything, Zoro's pulled a bunch of dirt-strewn tiger lilies from behind his back with a bashful scratch of his rubescent neck. As you sniff their fiery sweetness, Zoro stumbles to explain how he’d actually asked for Luffy’s help to pick them; the problem is, the two of them are absolutely hopeless. They’d spent a full three hours trudging through the same field, only for Zoro to seethe once he realised they’d passed the same hollowed out tree trunk for the third time in fifteen minutes.

With the two of them hopelessly lost, it was by sheer dumb luck that Luffy finally managed to spot the flowers sprouting at the bubbling edge of a cragged little brook dotted between the tree line. The only thing was, as he leaped for enthusiastically to pull out the roots, his sandal got stuck between small pebbles and a heap of sticky mud residue lying underneath the water, and with all the tugging Zoro had to do to try and get them out the poor swordsman ended up soaked from head to toe.

At least he was better off than Luffy: the Captain had gone flying backwards over Zoro’s head with an increasingly frustrated tug against his hips, and ended up with his legs dangling comically out of a nearby tree he has been flung so far.

It was all worth it though, if solely for the wick of desperation that’s lit in the quivering pit of Zoro’s stomach as you lean on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. For the warm glow of lingering affection that alights behind his hazel eyes as he offers you his hand, and the two of you fall into an entangled heap on the blankets.

Now that there’s no one around to annoy him with their antics and quipped comments, the former bounty hunter can finally release the wild beast of desire that’s been clawing against his stomach all day. Your birthday is the only day the usually stoic and reserved swordsman will allow you to hear him mewl against the shell of his ear as you scrape your fingernails down the tight, shaking muscles of his back. The tightness of your thighs as they quake around his waist: the hot pant of his breath as he tries to restrain himself from tearing you apart right there and then, the surprisingly sweet flutter of his kisses as he pins you underneath the contracting muscles of your abdomen are the best present you could ever wish for.

For a second, he pulls back, using his elbows to stop himself from collapsing completely on top of you. He swallows thickly, obviously embarrassed by the way his eyes suddenly are intrigued in scanning the holes and perforations drilled into the Crow’s Nest by the sea’s brackish breeze. It’s only when he starts muttering incoherently to himself, sliding his stumbling hand into his trouser pocket that you finally manage to catch bits of what he’s trying to convey.

He unfurls your hand from where it’s clawed into the mossy strands of hair above the nape of his neck, thrusting something into your palm.

Bless his heart, it’s a little gold sword earring, dangly and almost perfectly melded to reflect his own three.

’I thought you might like something… if there’s ever a day I’m not there to protect you’, he hides himself in the curve of your neck, pretending rolls of steam aren’t burning your hand as you cup the back of his head.

’I always knew you were a big softie deep down’, you tease, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of his forehead.

The love is there. The love is there. Even if it gets stuck in his throat, in his pride, it's there. In the way he lifts his head to bore his eyes into yours. In the slight curl of his lip: the almost imperceptible brush of his nose tip against yours.

’If you tell curly brows, I’ll toss you off the boat myself.’

Sanji

Since you and Sanji have known each forever: since you were two terrified children, trying to run away from the cruel wrath of his father in the Germa Kingdom, his main goal on your birthday is to make you feel as safe, as protected, as adored as you’ve made him feel his whole life. Even though you’re spending the next character of your adventurous life together as Strawhat Pirates on the Going Merry, he wants to bring a little bit of your former home - of the Baratie - back to you.

As soon as the sun hits the chef’s tired eyes, he’s nearly tripping over his own shoes as he runs across the boat and comes crashing into your quarters of the boat. On any other day he may have been embarrassed to come in unannounced or uninvited, but as Sanji jumps onto your duvet like a puppy with a firecracker under its tail, he can’t find it in himself to worry about anything else except kissing you absolutely, head over heels silly. For a moment as your tired eyes blink languidly awake, you're wondering why you're finding it a little harder to breath than usual. First, you register the feel of something heavy and smooth clench against your torso; Sanji's muscled thighs tremble in anticipation as he straddles you. Secondly, you wonder why you can't move your face side-to-side; Sanji's trying to collect his butterfly swarm of a heart by collecting his warm, calloused fingers by the side of your cheeks, spreading them delicately against the skin. Finally, you manage to make out the almost luminescent, closed eye and open-mouthed grin of your boyfriend as he leant forward and encased your body.

Once you finally manage to physically shove Sanji's needy lips off your face, he starts the day by settling into the easy, familiar routine the two of you fell into once you started at the Baratie. He sneaks you away; steals you, almost greedily, insatiably for himself from the rest of the world.

Because to Sanji, you are his entire world. He had spent so long living behind the colossal shadow of his father: curled up, deferential, strangled. It had been so stifling there, so dank and saturating that he had almost become friends with the loneliness. But you - you, god, by all the seas he swore he would never meet another person as ephemeral as you. You had brought the sunlight back into his eyes, making his whole body awaken and burn with such a want anytime you were near that, despite his overly gallant nature, it almost scared him.

He's prepared a platter of your favourite breakfast foods by the back of the deck: trays full of delicious smelling dishes, strewn gold, sea-shell, freckled honey rose petals flittering among the silverware.

He spends the whole morning trying to feed you each bite, dipping his spoon into the fresh cream sponge he had spent all night baking, and humming as he the edge of the metal against your bottom lip. Finding it far too fun not to tease him, you make sure to grab onto his tensing hand and hold the spoon in place as he tries to pull away. With direct eye contact, you drag the flat edge of your tongue up the back of the spoon, making sure to wet his thumb with the inside of your warm mouth along the way.

His crossed legs squirmed against your own, swallowing thickly as he did his best to straighten his spine and look presentable: not like someone who was finding it harder and harder to hide just how easily you had managed to make him become undone.

It doesn't work though, and you have to drop the plate resting on your knee to the floor with a crunching crack as Sanji begins to pass out on top of you. With a frantic slap across his forehead, you just about manage to stop your boyfriend from toppling face first into the depths of the ocean.

Once he finally comes back round, his head resting securely on your lap, he utters out a thousand apologies as he pulls out your real present. He unfolds a hand-written letter that, honestly, is almost comical; there are so many bullet points laid out on the parchment detailing in exquisite, minute, sometimes quite raunchy detail all the adoration and reverence pouring out of his heart and soul for you, that it almost rolls fully to the bow of the ship.

He makes Captain stop at a nearby island, so the two of you can spend the afternoon at peace together: running barefoot, chasing each other through the champagne waves as a lavender hued sunset bows above your heads, napping on each other's shoulders under the leaves of a coconut tree, and making out on the sand until it swipes over your heads and soaks the two of you. The two of you sneak towards the borders of the nearby village when you begin to hear a swirling brush of stringed music sway out across the little island. Holding out his hand with a bashful smile, Sanji pulls you against his chest until there's almost no space left to breathe, that mad fool so deliriously in love. Under the silky velvet of the waning moonlight, the two of you can barely make each other’s eyes, falling into a fit of euphoric, infantile giggles that almost give you away. The kind glow of the varnished barn lanterns that hang over the ring-wood of dusty buildings brushes over you and Sanji's blushing cheeks as the prince presses the jut of his chin into your forehead. With a content smile, he closes his eyes and pulls your shared hand over till it’s resting against his heart, continuing to sway the two of you back and forth.

The two of you spend the rest of the early morning snuggled up in the kitchen, (even if Sanji has to bar the door with a broom, and throw apples at the handle from time to time to stop Luffy's smooshed face from shoving through the crack and asking if you guys had any snacks left over your birthday breakfast.)

Just you sitting tranquilly on the perch of Sanji's knee, a shared blanket wrapped lazily around both your shoulders. One of his arms is wrapped around your side, stroking and tickling your bellybutton just so he can feel the vibrations of your back as you laugh against him. The other is cupped around some warm tea, refusing to let you exert yourself at all on your birthday; between languid kisses that neither of you want to pull apart from, Sanji dissipates the line of saliva arched between your lips by giving you sips of jasmine tea.

The two of you just cuddle and talk about everything and nothing as soulmates do... well, until Zoro gets fed up of having to wait for his sake and straight up kicks the door off its hinges.

Nami

You can absolutely tell that Nami is up to something. You just know it.

Although she's trying to act as elusive and nonchalant as ever, that sneaky little smirk she throws at you over the breakfast table is definitely what I'd call a massive giveaway. Without breaking eye contact, your girlfriend will pretend to be intently concentrating on peeling her orange, all the while she's busy making you choke on your food by running her foot up your leg and resting it teasingly on your lap. She presses her toes against the inner seam of your thigh as he finally places a slice in her mouth with an ostentatious pop of her thumb as she pulls it away from her lips, Sanji nearly comes running to give you the heimlich.

All Nami does is wink at you as she chews.

Even though the cat burglar abhors the idea of being anything less than stingy with her money after the trauma she's suffered since Cocoyashi's ambush by Arlong, you're the only person she's ever willing to loosen the purse strings for. She surprises you with an expensive gift: a looping necklace dotted with fine jewels and glittering beads that seemed to both melt and burn ablaze against the horizon with each glint of the light.

You wanted to cry. Not only had Nami spent her valuable berry on a gift for you, she had also remembered, taking note in the back of her mind that you had complimented the piece of jewellery during one of your dalliances out to the markets of Turtledove Isle a couple of months ago. Swiping off the idea of ever owning it as being a fanciful dream once you looked at the price tag, Nami had observed your wistful frown and had purchased it there and then, before you had even fully turned your back.

Bless her heart, she had even managed to find a little tangerine charm and had woven it through the flaxen silver.

When Nami asks to place it around your neck, it takes almost all of your self restraint not to leap up like a firework and pounce on your girlfriend there and then. Her shoes slide around your back, holding you in place as she straddles herself behind your back. Her knees knock familiarly against your arms as she places her chin against your shoulder blade and fixes the necklace so it settles between your breasts, her delicate fingers making your heart race with each tender scratch. With a firm finger pressed under your chin, she tilts you back to meet her lips with an earnest gaze.

God, do you have the cat burglar wrapped around your pinkie finger.

With just one soft groan brushing against her open mouth, she's pinning you to the floor and holding your wrists captive above your head. She lunges, famished and desperate clawing for an ounce of control despite the whirlwind you've released in her heart. Shoving your legs apart, she's quick to fill the space by crawling her hands up the inside of your legs until her stomach hits your groin. She grins deviously, but you don’t have any time to question it before her plump lips are open against the skin of your neck - soft and warm enough to make you whimper, but sucking enough to leave you breathless. She continues pressing those licking, trailing kisses up the tendons of your neck until she’s sure she’s unwound you into a flustered, whining mess.

The sweet cries leaving your parted lips can be heard in each corner of the crevice of the ship. So much so, that Sanji has to desperately hold onto Luffy's arms and drag him back into the kitchen, because the sweetly naive Captain was worried that someone was injured up on deck.

Before her big surprise, though, she thinks the two of you deserve some well deserved rest and a day off for being the only two non-idiots (affectionate) on the Strawhats crew. Cue the two of you sipping lemonade and lying sunbathing underneath her tangerine tree, holding hands and having an impromptu thumb fight.

Despite her competitiveness, your girlfriend's feeling pretty generous because its your birthday and lets you win. And of course the winner deserves a prize...

Thank goodness Sanji managed to block the kitchen door with his body to stop Luffy from pulling the hinges straight off with his fingers, that's all I'm saying.

Because she'd like a little privacy to properly celebrate your special day, she treats you to a candle lit dinner she had disembarked from the ship earlier to set up on Yukino Island. With the help of some elderly villagers more than happy to watch (and gush over) young love blooming, Nami managed to cover your eyes and lead you to the edge of the wild thickets. With nothing but the peachy wisp of the fireflies dancing and glowing between your intertwined fingers, and the lavender breaking through the boughs of the verdant trees to disturb you, everything seemed so perfect. Just you, the love of your life, and a bottle of blood orange cider shared between you to end the perfect night.

The two of you cuddle up under the stars after, before finally relenting and heading back to the ship. Thus you found yourself tied to Nami's hip, one of her arms resting around your neck and tucking you into the side of her ribs. You lay back against the warm plushness of the moonlit sand, unable to help yourself from grinning as Nami lifted your hand and swept it up in a swift and precise line, carving out your share of the stars.

'You see those ones? That's called Lynx. It was always my favourite when I was a kid. So faint, so far away, and yet so beautiful when someone's finally lucky enough to catch its glow. That's how I used to feel, when I first met you.'

She glances almost painfully shyly to the side of your cheek, before finally swallowing her courage again and meeting your eye. The two of you can't help the flustered giggles that burst out of your throats as Nami begins to smile, digging her face into the socket of your shoulder and just... breathes easily, for the first time since she was a child.

She was so thankful for you, and gosh - if she wasn't ready to spend every birthday, and every day between and after proving it.

Usopp

My main man Usopp is straight up throwing you a massive party, are you kidding me??

He's such a sweet boy, oml. He wakes you up by his bright little smile peering into your face like a curious robin, quite honestly nearly making you jump a mile in the dim light of your cabin. Once you come round and realise some stranger hasn't just materialised to ogle you from the side of your bed, your heart soars when you comprehend that the sun hasn't even risen yet and Usopp is already fully dressed and right by your side. Your boyfriend can barely keep still: his knees almost sounding like a foghorn with how quickly they were bouncing on the floor, trying his best not to jump up but stay kneeling by your side. With a pile of maple smelling pancakes steaming by your legs, and a little clasped box you'd soon find filled with a smoothed stone 'pearl' inside, Usopp was the perfect picture of restrained, nervous longing.

He also presents you with a hand-made card, a slightly wonky outline of the two of you holding hands, surrounded by winged hearts and flying arrows on the front. As he carefully places it into your hands, he tries his best to tell you how much he loves you, but bless his heart, he's so shy and stuttering that all that comes out of his blubbering mouth is a long string of confused 'uh' sounds.

When you lean forward and shyly kiss the side of his mouth, trying to let him know that you reciprocate all the adoration he's trying to form into an actual sentence, his eyes roll so far back in his head that you grab onto his biceps to stop him from falling onto his face on the floor.

While the two of you are quickly trying to run through your chores today for the very *ahem ahem* surprise party Usopp definitely didn't blurt out to you was happening as soon as he had the chance, the sharpshooter takes every opportunity to try and distract you. He can't help it, the soft peals of your laughter makes his heart feel so light he feels like he's floating among the clouds. Cue your boyfriend jumping up onto the railings and swinging back and forth like a bat as he tells you about the time he was nearly eaten by a giant seal; he nearly kicks Sanji off the side of the Going Merry during one incredibly vigorous, almost manic jumping impression of a mammoth, snapping oyster monster that the brave Captain Usopp had to defeat to find you the pearl he knew would be the only present that could measure up to a rare treasure like you.

When the crew leads you out into the middle of a nearby island's square, despite how you'd been practising your shocked face your hands covered your mouth in genuine surprise; peppered flowers woven through vines wind around the marble arches of the gothic buildings, the warm splash from the spray of the siren fountain flutters across the rustled curls of the crawling banners running across its arches. The energetic hum of the crowd pulses through the swinging band as Usopp latches onto the bottom of your fingers and pulls you into the thrum.

Most of the night is spent with your forehead pressed firmly against Usopp, the two of you trying not to choke up bubbles as you share two striped straws and race each other to finish a cocktail bowl. The only problem is, Usopp can't help but brag about you every time he goes up to the bar to fetch you another drink, but then the silly man gets so worried that someone's going to come steal you away that he makes a beeline straight back for you, like a stinger's stuck in his bottom.

Your boyfriend has a tight, clammy grip on your hand all night - except when he's throwing shapes on the dance floor, of course. With some unfound confidence, he tries to twirl you around and dip you down into his arms, but manages to send the two of you flying straight into the side of the fountain oops.

Slightly tipsy, very giggly, and so, so completely, blissfully, ecstatically in love, the two of you come tripping back onto the ship trying to shush each other between snorts. Stripping off the various memorabilia Usopp managed to collect during the night: funky sunglasses, a string of fairy lights dangling off his shoulders, and a captain's hat, lay strewn in a haphazard trail back to Usopp's hammock.

Sanji managed to pull the short straw; tip-toeing over to the guy's quarters, he peeks through the door with an incredibly nervous furrow of his eyebrows to try and see what the two of you were up to. With a sigh, he thanked the seas to find Usopp cuddled up to you like a clingy koala bear, a lingering smile brightening his face despite the honk mimimi snores that were rising out of his chest.

[the-gentleman-pining]

Righto party people, we had a good run, we got a beautiful S1 of OFMD unmarred by bullshit, which was the first time a lot of us had seen queer rep in that way. It meant a lot, it's been my hyperfixation for a couple years at this point! I even met Rhys, Vico, and Samson this weekend gone, which was unfortunately a bit soured by everything going on.

It boils down to this: how can I enjoy a show with themes of anti-colonialism and rising up against oppressive powers, knowing one of the biggest people behind its creation, Taika Waititi, is himself in signing letters in support of Israel as they occupy and mass slaughter Palestinians. The whole thing smacks of hypocrisy. As someone in the UK, I couldn't watch this recent season in a way that financially supported it anyway. But it's about more than that. I don't know how fans can continue to comfortably engage with it.

We had widespread abandonment and condemnation of JKR in queer circles after her TERF bullshit, and yes it took a while to catch on and for people to realise the smear campaign against an entire group of people wasn't worth them holding onto that piece of media. It's hard letting go of something that means so much. Or is it? I personally was never a huge HP fan, so I didn't share that struggle. But here? With OFMD? Yeah it's safe to say this show has been my life for a couple years. I'm heartbroken this is going down the way it has, and I don't mean that to have anything to do with the quality of the media in S2. It's not a relevant factor when its creator starring actor and co-creator is ADVOCATING GENOCIDE*. If that doesn't put you off, I don't really have more to say.

My conclusion? It's not hard to let go, you just don't think it's important.

I think, unless there is significant backtracking and work done to undo this damage, and even then probs not, this will be my last OFMD post.

Fuck you Taika, you betrayed your fans, but you also betrayed yourself by forgetting the things you used to stand for. Eat shit.

*some people have pointed out that pro-Israeli support is not inherently advocating genocide, because Taika may be ignorant to what's really going on. This is possible, however, firstly, if you don't fully understand something, don't fucking advocate for it. Secondly, intentional or not, he has contributed to a pro-genocidal rhetoric, by signing a letter that one-sidedly condemned Hamas taking hostages without awareness that Israel has taken far more, and for someone in his position of influence, that amounts to the same impact. Obscuring nuance pushes a biased narrative. It's insidious and easily denied.

[warping-realities]

Building an Empire II - The Supplier

Javier stared with his usual cold eyes at the priest of the almost empty church in which Isabel's body was being laid to rest. He had never been religious despite his aunt's efforts. He sent too many men to their final destination to have any hope of being welcomed into the kingdom of heaven. Now, in possession of the Reality Warper that possibility interested him even less, why worry about being a servant in the kingdom of God when he himself had become a god on Earth? Still, out of respect for Isabel's faith he chose to watch over her body in the religion she had believed in throughout her long life. Using his finances he managed to have the funeral held in one of the most important churches in the city. He couldn't help but find it funny how the money bought a luxurious send-off for the aunt of one of the city's biggest criminals. Apparently someone in the church organization had also noticed the irony of the situation and sent a young clergyman to perform the funeral rites. A young priest apparently very idealistic, very debauched or very reckless who had spent the entire sermon talking about repentance, the fires of hell and how those who committed sins against the Lord would pay on the day of judgment. Isabel didn't deserve to have anything like that said at her wake, but Javier had the clear impression that the religious man's target was someone else. A shame for him because he had chosen the wrong man on the wrong day to provoke, a man who carefully watched him speak while plotting the best use he could get of him in his schemes.

At the end of the ceremony, Javier remained seated in one of the church seats, critically watching the few people present say their last goodbye to the deceased and leave the place. Many with their eyes lowered to avoid eye contact with him, some having the decency to at least nod their head, although none had the courage to try to comfort him. He didn't judge them, he was always intimidating and with stories about his life being whispered throughout the city no one would want to be seen near him. It didn't matter in the slightest to him, the only constant in his life had been Isabel and now she had left, but not before leaving one last gift. A gift that would fulfill any need for contact he might have that these people were unable to provide. Because the contact he wanted was different, he had very specific needs and that arrogant young priest would help him satisfy them in different ways.

When the last of Isabel's friends finally left the church Javier approached the pulpit where his aunt's body rested and his next prey awaited. The priest was blond and quite young, not yet thirty years old, when Javier saw him he was irritated because he would like a latino priest to watch over his aunt and he had been clear about that. Only at the moment of the sermon did he understand the reason for that choice. As he bent down to place his hand one last time on Isabel's cold face, Javier could see from the corner of his eye the priest judging him with the falsely pious look of those who consider themselves morally superior.

Feeling the weight of that gaze that was at once merciful and judgmental, Javier raised his own eyes and faced the preacher.

"Beautiful litany Father...?"

"Ryan, my son. I'm glad you liked it. It's important when the message touches the faithful."

Leaving aside the irony that a man at least 10 years younger was calling him his son, Javier preferred to give the young priest rope to hang himself.

"Even those strayed from the herd?"

"Especially these, my son. Do you know the parable of the prodigal son?"

"Yes Father, Aunt Isabel made me complete my catechesis, even though everyone at the time already knew about my... nature."

"She was a very wise woman. For there is nothing in nature that the Lord cannot change. Since he was the creator of everything and everyone, he knows our every sin and will judge us all, but he also provides the way to salvation. "

"So that's what we are, Father? The prodigal son and the father who takes him back and leads him on the right path? I'm sorry, but a boy like you is not the father figure I have in mind."

"A church priest is the father of all the faithful, my son, age is irrelevant in this case." Father Ryan replied, to which Javier preferred to respond with another provocation.

"Tell me, Father, what leads someone so young to choose the church these days? To give up what the world has to offer, so many... pleasures?"

"Earthly pleasures are nothing compared to the nectar and honey of eternal life, my son. But answering your question, my choice was easy, I found in the abode of God the peace for what afflicted me, the balm for my pains and the expiation of my sins."

Does this mean what I'm thinking? Javier thought to himself. If that were the case, any slightest regret he might have for what he was about to do would disappear, but to be sure of that he would first need to do it. But not before a last provocation.

"It's a shame, Father, that I don't think my sins need atonement. I took from the world what it denied me and I don't regret it, everything I achieved was due to my merit and those who stood in my way were the same or much worse than I ever was. And as for what you call sin, what you fear to the point of cloistering yourself, it is something that I do not give up, it is something that I indulge and revel in and that I I'm proud. Another sin to put on the list, pride, pride in not being a hypocrite who is so afraid of what he is that he prefers to hide in a pair of skirts like a woman."

"How you dare to say sinfull words in the Lord's house your sodomite?"

"I dare because I'm can." Answered Javier with a golden shine in his eyes watching Father Ryan be enveloped in an equally golden cocoon.

Javier stared at the golden figure for a few moments before shifting his gaze to the figure above the altar.

"Sorry, but today the greatest power at work will be me." He muttered right before invading Father Ryan's mind and reality. What he saw there surprised and angered him, but not for the reason he thought he would find it. Father Ryan was as big a hypocrite as he had imagined, but the reason for that enraged him. Since he was a boy Seamus Ryan had been brought up considering pleasure as a sin and the sexual act between two men as inconceivable and thus he had always denied his desires. The few times he had let it slip it the punishment he had inflicted on himself had been exemplary. What further increased Javier's disgust was fact that the young priest really believed in what he said and did, in the expiation of sins through pain and in the denial of his own identity. Also the fact at the same time he was dedicated, he gave food to the poor, participated in social works and helped children in need without ever giving them a look of desire, but if these people show any sign of the sin that he tried so fervently to hide he leaves them in misery . The combination of all that with Javier's own needs would make the new and reformulated Father Ryan someone very complex, in a way that his own creator could not understand, just as he could not understand himself.

With one last glance at the figure on the altar Javier set to work exploring the different possibilities that the small golden artifact imbued with his will had to offer.

...

Seamus Ryan found himself in the memory he had tried so hard to repress. The first of many to come and the most significant of them. He saw himself again on that terrible afternoon at boarding school, when at the age of twelve, while watching the older boys play football, he felt a strange sensation between his legs, an itch followed by an uncontrollable urge to touch his dick. Unfortunately for him, Father Connor saw what was happening and punished him severely, instilling in little Seamus the shame and guilt that he would associate with that feeling for the rest of his life. Feelings that would only increase in the years to come, leading the boy to try to purge any type of pleasure, no matter how small. He never masturbated and constantly self-harmed when he had any thoughts he deemed impure. He acquired the habit of fasting for days to avoid gluttony and the only alcohol he tasted in his life was altar wine. He did not even allow himself to participate in group physical activities for fear of desire and to repress the pleasure, preferring to take long walks, often barefoot, feeling his injured feet bleed to mitigate his sin. Yet deep down he knew that if he looked into the abyss within him the abyss would look back and that's why he set out to purge that evil in himself and in others. He became a man thin to the point of being skeletal due to lack of nutrients and a lack of love for himself, preaching about a love he was unaware of because he never had the opportunity to know what it was to truly love, using the excuse that God's love was enough to him. However, if the Lord Himself stood before him and told him that there was no sin in being who he really was, he would have turned his back on Him in disbelief, so deep was the contempt within him.

Javier also watched that scene wondering if a single moment could actually define someone's life. With that thought in mind he made a decision.

….

Sean Ryan found himself once again in the memory that would define the course of his life. He saw himself again on that terrible afternoon at boarding school, when at the age of twelve, while watching the older boys play football, he felt a strange sensation between his legs, an itch followed by an uncontrollable urge to touch his dick. Unfortunately for him, Father Connor saw what was happening and tried to punish him. Unfortunately for that bitter man the boy had a spark of rebellion burning inside him. A spark that flared up at that moment and made the boy run away from the boarding school that night, but not before committing another act of rebellion, doing exactly what the priest had tried to restrain him and feeling the greatest pleasure of his young life.

That night he wandered the streets of the city and saw things he never imagined, women exposing their half-naked bodies on street corners, men kissing women and other men, committing all kinds of carnal acts. There he saw sin for the first time and fell in love with it. And it was in the midst of the dazzled stupor of discovery that he was stopped by an imposing figure, a true giant who opened the way in the middle of that sea of sin and desire like Moses had opened the red sea and who awakened in him another type of desire, the greed, because that was exactly how he would like to be someday.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Asked the giant caramel-skinned police officer with a mustache that still gave no indication of how big he would one day become.

"No...nothing sir." Sean replied in a stuttering voice.

"This isn't the place to someone like you, boy. What's your name?" The man said with a stern look at Shane.

"Seamus, sir, but my friends cal me Sean."

"Flores speaking, I found the kid. I'm going to take him back." The police officer spoke into the communicator he carried with him.

"Come on boy, half the city's police are looking for you."

"I won't to go back"

"I don't give a fuck about what you want, you'll come with me." Miguel Flores scolded, making Sean Ryan scared and amazed at the power exuded by the police officer in such a way that he was paralyzed and allowed himself to be taken by the police officer to his car.

"Come in Seamus." The officer said before muttering to himself. "A boy from Saint Colum runs away and the world despairs, while fifteen kids can die of cold and hunger on the street because they can no longer bear living in the damn Santa Maria de Los Dolores and it's just a fatality… Hey kid, what you think you doing?” Shouted the policeman, grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck when he tried to escape from the car.

"Do another funny thing like that and I'll put you on the trunk like a criminal. I'm solo tonight, no partner, so no one will ever know what happened to you. So you better behave, sit there quietly."

Fearing retaliation from the giant police officer, Shane calmed down.

"Tell me boy, what makes someone run away from a guarantee of a hot meal, a roof over their head, a comfortable bed to sleep in and a quality education?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Boy, I was raised in the Santa Maria de Los Dolores orphanage, believe me that anything you went through at your fancy school, I've certainly seen or experienced worse."

"Father Connor well... he..."

"Did the bastard put his hand on you?" The policeman asked, even more angered, although for the first showing some kind of real interest in the boy.

"No sir, I mean yes, but not in the way you think, he punished me..."

"Ah, and what did you do boy?"

"I don't know, he said that I sinned, that I was unclean and that I should be ashamed, but... if so, why was it so good?"

"Don't tell me that withered old man caught you playing with your little wand?" Officer Flores asked with an mischievous smile on his face.

"Well, yes... but it didn't seem like that was what irritated him so much."

"So what was it?"

"You wouldn't understand"

"Boy, I told you that I lived a good part of my life in an orphanage for boys run by the church. If there's anyone who can understand you, it's me. Tell me, you were caught snooping at your classmates in the shower or..."

"No, no, it wasn't that... well it was... but they were playing ball..."

"Boy, I don't know why I bother saying this. So remember what I'm going to tell you because it's something I had to learn on my own. The world is an unfair and cruel place, and even more cruel to people like you. So you'll have to find a way to live with that. There will be people who will hate you just for being the way you are, many will humiliate you or your opportunities to have pleasure. But you said it yourself, if its is a sin, why its so good? Do you really think that God would make you the way you are if its a sin? I don't know if I believe in a God, but if you do, come to an agreement with him. Let it be something just between you, he will respond or not and you will live the way you think is best. "

"But isn't it wrong?"

"Tell me boy, is it more wrong to taste good food and the heat of someone else's body or to purposely go hungry and cold to punish yourself for something that is not your fault? A real sin is not take advantage of it when other people would give everything to have the opportunity to be in your place."

"But people will treat me badly if I... if I …"

"Yes, they will, but no one outside you needs to know that. Well, you and God I imagine. Don't be stupid, don't inconvenience these priests, be a perfect example of a little holy boy. But don't let them take away from you who you are. And when the time comes, you will find a way to do what is best for you. It may be that you find a good woman who understands the needs you have, or it may be that you have to face the cruelties of the world with your head held high, which always seemed to me an idealistic idiotic thing to do. Be smart boy, do your own thing and remember to take advantage of the opportunities that life gives you, not everyone will have the same ones. We're here, I'm going to take you inside and have a word with this Father Connor. Be smart, show them what they want to see and most importantly don't fuck with my shift again, Sean." The police officer concluded, opening the car door with what appeared to be a genuine smile.

As Sean entered the school he couldn't resist looking back and taking one last look at Officer Flores, not yet knowing how much that encounter would influence his life. At that moment the only thing he felt was admiration for the man and a wave of desire different from the one he had felt the day before, as this was a desire to become exactly like that man, even more so after he saw the expression that the policeman he demonstrated as Father Connor's thin figure walked towards him.

From that day on, Sean Ryan followed Officer Flores' instructions as if they were divine commandments. In front of the standards of the boarding school he acted with all the purity and innocence in the world, but behind their backs he began to enjoy and experiment. At sixteen years of age he didn't resemble the thin, emaciated boy he had been. With a healthy appetite, combined with constant physical exercise, he became a strong and fully developed young man. He was adored by everyone and the priests had great hopes for a future for him within the church, the only one who seemed to harbor any kind of grudge against him was Father Connor, but some deep fear prevented him from doing anything against him. Sean, for his part, wasn't so sure if his future would be in clerical life. That changed just before the boy's seventeenth birthday, when sweaty after rugby training he was getting ready for a shower and was approached by another of the boys on the team. Until that moment, no matter how much he had indulged in the pleasures of food, drink and the self-satisfaction of masturbation, he had never experienced the pleasure of orgasm with another person. After the sex, with his body covered in sweat and cum, he sat on the bench in the locker room and was sure that he would never look for a good woman to cover up what he was. But in those years he had learned to be as smart as Officer Flores had asked him to be, and suddenly the idea of ​​the clerical life became a much more interesting prospect.

…..

Just over ten years after the fateful meeting between Sean and police officer Flores, fate (actually Javier) brought them face to face again. Newly ordained, Sean, now Father Ryan, had managed to obtain a position of great importance, which had raised some eyebrows within the church hierarchy, but he had known very well how to obtain and return favors during his time as a seminarian, coming to the conclusion that his superiors were as hypocritical than he was, but at least he assumed that for himself. The position he obtained was an old desire, he would be part of the body of clergy at the church of Santa Maria de Los Dolores, but more importantly he had managed to be appointed director of the orphanage attached to the parish, which had required the collection of many favors and for him to kneel in different ways. However, the position was undoubtedly his and with enough money for a good renovation. Freshly returned from a short vacation after his appointment he found himself opening the suit already too small to his huge body while observing the state his future domain was in. He had been this way for some time when he was surprised by an unexpected visitor.

"When I heard the name of the new director of this place I needed to make sure, and when I saw your photo Father my doubts increased. A big man of that size couldn't be the withered boy that I delivered to Saint Colum so many years ago."

"Ten years and 3 months exactly. And what I can say about the size is the result of adequate nutrition and physical exercise." Oliver replied with an unrequited smile.

"I'd say much more than simply adequate, you could take a bull by the horns boy."

"A police officer once told me not to hold back my needs."

"Detective, I'm a detective now, Sean"

"I am now Father Ryan, Detective Flores."

"That's exactly what I'd like to talk about." Miguel Flores responded with a pointed look and a cold voice.

At that moment, before the older man's gaze, Father Ryan found himself in the same position as Father Connor so many years before and despite all the confidence acquired with years of practice in physical activities, he could not avoid a shiver of fear.

"What do you expect to do here boy? I hope you're not doing this to satisfy the need I feared the other priest had tried to satisfy with you."

Calming down, Father Ryan resumed his smile.

"On the contrary, I assured you that all my needs are well met and fed and this is not one of them. In fact, it is precisely to combat these needs that I am here. After our meeting I followed your advice and made my own agreement with the Lord, one that I can live with and that I assure you is much less problematic than what many of my teachers and superiors do with their lives. But I also took an interest in this place and investigated it, using every means at my disposal including some disgusting moments with disgusting old men. Believe me, telling yourself that a hole is a hole doesn't help much when the body attached to said hole is hateful. Finally, after a lot of trouble, I discovered what was really happening here and I took steps to ensure that it doesn't happen again. The kids will have a safe place to live, all of them, even those who don't fit in at least until adulthood.

"You're a better man than me Father." Detective Flores replied with a half smile.

"I'm not so sure about that Detective Flores. I may be the Father here, but in my dreams you're the one I call Papi."

"I'm flattered, kid, but it's not going to happen. You've become a beautiful piece of meat, but for me you'll always be that skinny kid from Saint Colum. I'm sure that if you're the kind of man I think you are, one day you'll be in my shoes and respond in the same way. But don't be sad, if you you want to taste the Latin spice so much, I know exactly who could be your Papi.

…..

Javier withdrew from Father Ryan's mind with the thought that his treatment of him was more of a favor than a punishment. So much so that he spared his original's bitter conscience from the suffering given to Michael Fischer. He justified this attitude to himself by the fact that the Priest was not part of his personal revenge plan but just another piece in the greater scheme. Still, why had he given Flores a sympathetic streak? He would have to be very careful not to end up going soft. Speaking of soft, the thin, golden figure of the original Father Ryan lost its rigid metal appearance on this shelf and began to expand before Javier's eyes. Another change in relation to what happened in the previous experience. Before his eyes Father Ryan blossomed like a flower. A giant muscled flower of a man. 

It was not possible to say a specific location for the beginning of the transformation as everything occurred at the same time. The lean torso expanding into enormous pecs, the thin arms becoming the size of clubs, the slender legs growing to the size of tree trunks, the abdomen in a gut that would certainly be a mixture of muscle and fat when the new Father Ryan revealed himself and finally the cadaverous face giving way to a round jolly face.

Javier admired the work for a few moments before the gold faded into brilliant dust and revealed the figure of Father Ryan. A well-built young man, with developed muscles covered by a layer of fat that only increased his overall size, giving the impression of a beast cloistered inside that cassock with the new memories that entered Javier's mind at that moment confirmed to be the purest truth, or not so pure, since Father Ryan's inner beast manifested itself in the extremely libidinous sexual acts that he enjoyed intensely. Something that the round, smiling and apparently innocent face of the figure that stood up and spoke to Javier did not show.

"Now that your aunt's soul is committed to the Lord, do you have any other business to attend to, my son?" He asked with a friendly and pious tone that hid very well the intentions behind the question, and only a careful look would be able to reveal the malice hidden in that cherubic face. A look that Javier possessed.

"We'll take care of what you want, Father, but before that, let's take care of business." Javier replied, although he burned with desire.

…..

These catacombs were built next to the parish and run throughout all of the church land. No one has been here for years since priests stopped being buried here. Many don't even know about the existence of the place and I was very diligent in erasing the physical records of it and no one ever bothered to make digital records. In addition, Detective Flores' contact at city hall also sorted through their records and those at the municipal library. Unless someone looks through old newspapers and finds some mention of the existence of these crypts, they exist only for us and those we grant access to them." Father Ryan explained as he guided Javier through the spacious place.

"What about the equipment and personnel needed?"

"The boys arranged everything. They were all raised in Santa Maria de Los Dolores and are very grateful for the payment given to their colleges and specializations and most importantly they have my complete trust and believe in the project. I know you're not the type who trusts others, but this time you'll have to trust me."

"That will depend on the results you produce but something tells me I won't need to worry to much about that." Javier replied with a half smile.

"So what do you say if I show you what we've produced so far so you can evaluate the results produced and mitigate any remaining concerns?" Father Ryan responded, guiding him through the dimly lit corridors of the place to a solid steel door that seemed completely out of place in that environment and making Javier wonder how he had managed to install it there. Meanwhile, the priest's eye was scanned, causing the huge door to open into a room where there were several computers, a laboratory and some young men working. A substance like molten gold could be seen in some of the beakers arranged on the laboratory bench, while one of the men observed with a critical eye a round, gelatinous pill of the same tone before depositing it in a black box with an alien shape where several other pills were placed. identical ones abounded. Javier observed the efficiency of the production with a look of approval that did not go unnoticed by Father Ryan.

"What do you think of these results?"

"They certainly ease my worries, but do I still need to ask you what the production estimate is?"

"A fair question but again I better answer by showing you." Father Ryan replied with a mischievous smile as he opened the door to a large warehouse and several shelves full of those strange black boxes and each of them filled to the brim with those golden pills.

One would have to wonder how the bed in the room attached to the facility had withstood the weight and adventures of the two mammoths that occupied it that afternoon. A mocker could say that it was divine providence. And divine had been the pleasure experienced by Father Ryan from the moment he had savagely torn Javier's shirt down to the last of their organs, and it was with regret that he watched the older man put on one of the clothes he had provided just that type of occasion.

"Are you sure you can't stay longer, Papi?" He tried.

"I have an unpostponable commitment and looking at you I think it's time for you to think about being someone's Papi." Javier replied, savoring the irony that only he could understand.

"And who said I'm not already?" Father Ryan joked with a smile while lying in the bed.

"Feel free to do whatever you want boy, as long as you don't forget who is your Daddy.”

“I will never forget Papi. What is this important commitment you have?”

"With production and supply secured, we need to place the product on the market. But to do this we will need a dealer." Javier replied with one last smile for his lover before leaving to ensure that.