#i probably spent way too much time on this but you know what it was fun so definitely worth it

[aewon]

golden

heeseung x f!reader g: fluff, angst ⚠️ : cursing, kissing wc: 1.8k

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Growing up wasn’t easy for you.

Your sister was the golden child, loved by all, hated by none.

You on the other hand were the “other” child in your parents lives.

The one who didn’t get as much attention no matter what you did.

You yearned for the affection and praise from your parents that your sister got daily.

Even in school, your sister was popular with many friends while you had a small few.

You knew your sister truly hated you when you confided in her about a crush you had sophomore year, and she began dating him a week later.

Everything you wanted, your sister got.

Every birthday she was showered with love and lavish gifts, while yours were days mostly spent with friends as less effort was given by your family.

Family…can you even call them that?

It was at 18 when you decided to go low contact with your family, your sister included.

You vowed not to let them hurt you anything with their lack of care for you.

You’re now in your senior year of college, and living without being in your sister's shadow has brought more happiness to you than you could have ever imagined.

She decided to pursue school out of state, while you stayed.

You’re going to be graduating top of your class, but of course your sister’s graduation is overshadowing that.

Which is why when you get the text from your parents inviting you home to celebrate your sister, you want nothing more than to say no.

But you know if you do, they’ll raise questions and it’ll be a whole repeat of the conversation you tried having years ago.

Before you left, you tried talking to your parents about your feelings. How you felt inferior to your sister in their eyes.

They, of course, vehemently denied any accusation of favoritism, claiming you were overreacting.

That was the end of that.

So, you suck it up, telling them you’ll be there.

Your apartment and school are a good hour and a half away from your hometown.

You make the drive the next day, dreading being in the same room as your family for the next 2-3 hours.

When you arrive, the house is already crowded.

You pass uncles, aunts, cousins.

None of them bother to greet you, making you regret coming already.

When you find your parents and sister, they make half an effort to greet you.

“Sis, I’m so glad you could make it,” your sister says.

“Congratulations.” You smile, albeit awkwardly.

Without even saying thank you, she rushes off to greet one of her friends.

You saunter away from your parents, finding a somewhat quiet corner to bury yourself in.

You’re scrolling through your phone when someone sits next to you.

You’re surprised to see Lee Heeseung, one of your sister's friends since high school.

You think he’s just sitting down to relax, but then he’s talking to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You look up, “…Hi?”

You remember whenever your sister had friends over, you weren’t allowed to talk to them because it upset her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” Heeseung says.

“Yeah, I moved a couple towns away for college.”

“How have you been?”

“Great! I’m graduating this year.”

Heeseung, who's the same age as your sister, graduated before you.

“Congrats, that’s a big deal. Are your parents gonna arrange a party for you too?”

Your smile slowly fades, “Probably not.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “Why not?”

You want to tell the truth, the fact that your parents have never cared for you the way they do your sister.

The neglect, the lack of affection, you want to spill everything.

But, he probably won’t believe you, so you wave it off, “I’m just not really a party type.”

He looks like he’s about to say more when you hear your sister squeal his name from across the yard.

Before you know it, she’s rushed over, grabbing Heeseung by the sleeve and dragging him toward their friend group.

You sigh, it’s probably better you don’t talk to him anyway.

The hours drag on and your parents gather everyone’s attention, clanking a fork on a wine glass.

“We’re so happy to have everyone important to S/N here to celebrate her special day. 23 years ago we gave birth to the light of our life and everyday has been a blessing. Our daughter is smart, hardworking, kind and so much more. We can’t think of anyone more deserving. Please, a toast, to S/N.”

Everyone raises their glasses, toasting to her.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the tears that begin to form.

Getting up, you quietly leave the backyard, heading upstairs to your old room.

It’s empty, with nothing but a bed and dresser, no essence of you anywhere.

When you moved out, you made sure to take everything with you.

Now, as you sit on the bed, you let the tears fall.

You knew your parents didn’t care for you the way they did your sister. Yet, some part of you still hoped you had a place in their hearts, but clearly that was not the case.

This feels like a knife was twisted in your heart.

“Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he enters the room.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

“It’s nothing,” you say, wiping your tears frantically.

“You’re crying, Y/N, that’s not nothing.”

“Why are you here, Heeseung? Why are you talking to me?

“Because you’re sad, and I hate to see you sad.” His eyes are soft, looking at you like you’re fragile.

“You don’t even know me Heeseung, why do you care if I’m sad or not?”

Without warning he cups your face, pulling you forward into a kiss.

Your eyes are wide open in shock, before you relax in his hold, closing your eyes and enjoying the kiss.

Your lips move desperately, as he scoots impossibly closer.

You’re so drawn into the kiss, you don’t hear the footsteps making their way upstairs.

“What the fuck!”

You hear your sister’s voice and immediately break away.

“S/N-” You try to speak but she cuts you off.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve always told you to stay away from my friends and this is what you do in return. You know he’s mine.”

You look between her and Heeseung, stuttering out an apology before you rush out of the room.

Running downstairs, you hear footsteps behind you and you run into the living room.

“What happened?” Your father asks as S/N and Heeseung follow closely behind you.

“Y/N apparently thinks it’s okay to kiss another girl's man,” S/N says, huffing.

Your parents turn to you, disgust evident on their faces.

You know it shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

“Is this true?” Your mother asks.

“I…I didn’t know—” You’re grasping at straws, trying to defend yourself.

Everyone is staring at you, looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces.

You feel a new onset of tears coming down and without another word you rush out of the house.

S/N watches you go, then turns her attention to Heeseung.

“Are you okay?” She asks, “Did she force herself on you? I swear I’m gonna—”

“Stop!” Heeseung shouts, silencing everyone’s whispers.

“She didn’t force herself on me S/N are you fucking crazy? I kissed her!”

S/N has the audacity to look confused. “Why would you do that? You know you and I are—”

“We’re nothing!” Heeseung shouts. “We have never been anything more than friends and we never will be.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually like her? She’s a loser, why would you like someone like her?” S/N is blabbering at this point, saying whatever is in her mind.

Heeseung looks at her in utter shock, terrified that someone could talk about their own sister like that.

“You know what I think S/N? I think you’re a spoiled, bratty, insignificant human being. The fact that you could talk about your sister like that, your own family, is appalling. I don’t know what planet you’re living on, but this one doesn’t revolve around you.”

S/N is shocked, “What do you mean? I’m insignificant? She’s the one who’s insignificant!”

Heeseung smirks, “I get it now. You’re jealous. Jealous that she’s pretty, that she’s smart, kind, successful… everything you’re not. And it seems you’ve been nothing but enabled your whole life,” he says with his gaze on your parents.

With that, he heads out the door in your direction.

He gazes down both sides of the street, looking for your figure.

Heeseung finally spots you, on the other side of the road, down a hill that leads to a park.

He jogs, nearly tripping on his way down.

He approaches you cautiously, hearing your small sniffles.

You’re sitting on a bench, criss-crossed, head buried in your hands.

He sits next to you, “Y/N.”

You glance at him, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. What S/N said isn’t true. We’re not together, in any way.”

You sit up, “Even so, we shouldn’t have been talking to each other in the first place.”

“Why? Because S/N doesn’t like it? Who cares what she thinks!”

“S/N has always been the favorite. Everything she wanted, she got. I.. I never meant anything to my parents, no matter what I did.”

“They’ve enabled her behavior, haven’t they?”

You nod, “For years, I just wanted some kind of acknowledgment from them. But I know I’ll never get it, especially not now.”

“You don’t need people like that in your life. You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you and give you what you deserve,” Heeseung says, pouring his heart out in hopes you’ll understand.

“Like who?”

“Like me.” He smiles. “I didn’t kiss you for no reason. I like you, Y/N.”

Your beautiful eyes blink up at him, “Me? Why? We’ve barely interacted in the past.”

Heeseung leans back against the bench, looking up at the sky like he’s thinking.

“Well, it all started when I came to your house for the first time. I came into your kitchen for water and you were just standing there, looking beautiful as ever. We didn’t talk other than you saying ‘excuse me’ but I knew then that I liked you.”

For the first time today, you smile, a genuine smile.

“That was my first kiss.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened in surprise, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you say, reassuring him.

He smiles back at you, “Then, can I do it again?”

You don’t answer with words, instead leaning forward to peck his lips.

He chases your lips, pressing them together again, longer this time.

When you part, he looks blissful. “Y/N, would you give me the honor of taking you on a date?”

You lean into his side, snuggling into it as he wraps his arm around you.

“I’d like that.”

For once, you have something your sister doesn’t, and damn does it feel good.

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note: hi, this is based off the number of reddit stories i’ve read about golden child’s and bullshit like that so hehe, enjoy

[koenigami]

fucking finally. tags : pure fluff, fem!reader, childhood friends to lovers trope wc : 1,5k synopsis : one single word is sometimes enough to change everything a/n : oh how i missed writing for my baby boy

"Come on, set for me!" Bokuto's heavy arm hooks around your neck as he pulls you into his side, the grown man looking at you with big bright puppy eyes. "Pleeaaase, Y/n."

You sigh at his antics, and eye the net across the street. Initially, this was supposed to be a calm evening walk with your best friend after you had picked him up from practice. Yet, you must admit that it is your own fault for thinking that you can combine the words "calm" and "Bokuto" in one coherent sentence. The weak smile you offer him as you exhale defeatedly is enough for him to sprint over to the sand volleyball court, and pull a ball out of his duffle bag.

He guides you to the other side of the net, enthusiastically explaining how to toss him the ball, how to dig it once he hits it, reminding you to keep a proper stance -

You scoff. As if you haven’t spent half of your free time observing him like a hawk during games and practices. You wouldn’t call yourself good at volleyball per se, but for an amateur you’re not too bad either.

And so your little play time goes on like this for a little while, the ball flying back and forth between the both of you. And before you know it the sun has almost set, painting the sky in a reddish orange hue.

"Kou, it’s getting late. I think we should head home." You tilt your head as you pout at him, stuffing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little out of breath.

"Hm? Don’t tell me you’re already tired." He grins mischievously. You know what he’s doing, because if there’s something worse than his puppy eyes, than it is him using your ego against you. He watches you flip him off before you get back into position as he mumbles to himself. “That’s my girl.”

The dull sound of Bokuto’s palm slapping against the ball sounds through the empty court as you watch it hurtle towards you at a speed that you usually only get to witness from the sidelines. With the little reflexes that you have, you manage to duck and dodge the ball. It whizzes past your ear like a bullet before it slams into the sand, right before the end line.

Besides the few birds chirping and cars passing by, you don’t hear any other noise as you stare at him, shock clearly written all over your face. "Damn." Bokuto rubs the back of his head sheepishly, a nervous smile stretched over his face. He fucked up. "What a service ace, huh?"

And that’s it for you. The exhaustion that you’ve been feeling after such a long day turns into irritation, and you don’t even offer him a last glance when you simply turn around and stomp off.

"Shit." He quickly gathers his stuff and hurries after you, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he clumsily makes his way across the sand. Were you always this fast? "Y/n, wait. I swear, I didn't realise I hit it that hard!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him deflate visibly when he eventually catches up with you. He pleads for your attention, to look at him as he talks to you and apologizes, or at least acknowledge his presence. Yet you simply look ahead of you and do none of those things as you keep a petty pout on your face. All while trying to ignore his way too adorable face.

"Oh, come on. I said I was sorry." He all but nearly whines while he wildly gesticulates with his arms as if to prove his point. Something about the way you're ignoring him doesn't sit right with him. If it were anyone else, he'd probably laugh about it but when it comes to you? Bokuto's not sure how to explain it to himself but your cold shoulder feels like a bullet wound in his chest. You, who always laughs at his silly antics and remarks. You, whom he has the best insider jokes with. You, who has never made him feel like being too much.

"Babe!"

It slips out of his mouth, and he briefly has to check his surroundings to make sure that he's not in a fever dream. Because why the heck would he say that? His wide eyes fall to his hand and the way it shakes the slightest bit before he cards it through his hair and down his face. All those years, he managed to keep his silly little crush at bay, since having you as a friend in his life is better than not at all. Yet, all it took was one single slip up to ruin everything.

He fails to notice that you have long since frozen in place, the gears inside your head turning as you wondered whether you might have heard him wrong. You have not.

"What was that?" His eyes are focused on the ground beneath him, though he can't help but cringe as he clearly discerns the teasing and mischievous smile in your voice. Of course you won't let him off that easy.

"What was what?" He laughs nervously, rubs the back of his neck, and you notice how his eyes seem to wander without ever meeting yours. All your previous annoyance has faded away at the sight of Bokuto standing there, nervously playing with the cords on his hoodie, and reminding you a little of his younger self.

You bite back the growing smile on your face as you walk back towards him and step into his field of vision, not giving him a chance to escape you. Because something inside you decides that this is probably the only chance you'll get.

Your heels raise off the ground as you lean over towards him. So close to him, you notice how good he smells. He must have taken a quick shower after practice. Warm, a little prickly from the light stubble along his jaw, and so so right. That's how the short peck you give him feels before you're already walking backwards with a bright grin on your face while eyeing his shocked expression.

A laugh bubbles up your throat when you see realisation hit him of what you just did. Yet you don't expect him to recover so quickly, because your laugh soon dies down as he shoots you his own challenging grin before taking slow tentative steps towards you.

Then you run.

Your hear his loud stomps as he's immediately on your feet while calling out to you, boasting about how you can't just do something like that and run away, about how he's going to get you, that you can't run forever. And you know that you can't. You've tried for so long to escape your feelings, and this time it seems like you failed big time. And apparently so did he.

"Kou, wait no!-" Shrieks and giggles sound through the almost completely empty street once he catches up with you right in front of your apartment building. His hands wander all over your sides, your stomach, your neck- Once Bokuto ceases his tickling assault, there's nothing left but the sound of your quick breaths, chests heaving quickly while you both just stare at each other with adoration, longing, relief. So many emotions and neither of you is sure what to do with them.

"Shit, I think my heart's going to jump out of my chest." He admits with a sheepish chuckle, and grasps your hands as he guides it up to his chest. Your palm slides over the soft fabric, and then you feel it. It's beating so fast that you wonder whether it should worry you. "Can I-"

His words die on his tongue as the tiny little voice of reason inside his head tells him that it might be too early. Maybe it's neither the time nor the place, and another tinier voice in his head, called insecurity, tells him that you're just playing with him, that-

And for the second time that evening, you take his breath away when you mould your lips against his, ever so softly and gently as if you yourself were testing the waters and making sure that this is truly something you both mutually want. But his eagerness is proof enough. His tongue leaves a wet trail along your lower lip while his hands grip your waist tightly in a way that makes it seem as if he was scared that you'd slip through his hands and disappear forever into nothingness.

Only when your lungs start to burn with the lack of oxygen, you eventually part, still so out of breath yet maybe a little more maddly in love than before.

"So- babe, huh?" You tilt your head and speak so quietly as if you were telling him a secret. His fingers smooth down your hair, trying to tame the strands that have been messed up by the wind, and during his little attack.

"Oh, you have no idea." Bokuto rasps, his nose wrinkles the slightest bit as he shoots you a handsome grin before his lips find their way on yours again. He's finally got you, and he's sure to never let you go.

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | six

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, angst, first real date, discussion of dysfunctional parental relationships, turbulent sibling relationship, joel makes reader cry [not in a mean way], cuddling, terms of endearment [sweetheart, babygirl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.2k series masterlist | part five a/n: it’s about time, huh? (the last part was released about 10 months ago 💀 but i’m back hunni buns. and back to remembering why i love sweet, emotionally intelligent joel

Make it hurt.

Make it hurt.

The words were seared into Joel’s brain. He even saw them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. If only you’d known that the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching you get ready, had a mind reeling with worry. Instead you, leaning over the sink, carefully applying eyeliner, snuck a glance at him through the mirror and only recognized how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He’d gotten back into his jeans and green flannel, much to your dismay for the want of his bare chest, broad shoulders, and soft stomach. His arms were folded over that now covered chest, shoulder leaning against the jamb, one foot crossed over the other. Despite you having been getting ready for the better part of an hour now, it hardly looked like his patience was waning. All too willing to have nothing more than your presence for as long as you’d have him. Even when you traded in your eyeliner for the tube of mascara and pulled the firm-bristled brush over your lashes, you heard him take a deep breath but it didn’t sound like an argument to the time you were taking to doll up. After all, it was the first time Joel would see you in any amount of makeup designated for him. You chose to forget the night he’d swooped up on your porch, handgun in his waistband, and shooed your pushy date away. Though that night you hadn’t gotten made up for him.

Face painted and ready to get changed, you waltzed past him in the threshold, keen to the fact that he spun slowly to keep you in his eyeline. Even took a couple steps in the direction of your bedroom before you paused and pressed a hand to his chest, insisting he go on and wait in the living room for you. You hadn’t needed help getting dressed since you were a kid. And it wasn’t like you were getting completely dressed up. Joel was in a flannel and jeans. It was all you needed to know he wasn’t taking you to some Michelin rated restaurant. You ventured to guess he’d take you somewhere a tad nicer than a diner, where food that would stick to your bones was served. So you emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and pulled the door shut behind you until it clicked back on itself. His boots created soft thuds on the hardwood floor where he paced, waiting, anticipating.

All that stopped when you came into view.

You stood, arms held out to the side to show off the long, simple dress you’d thrown on. Something probably better suited for a day of peak summer day-drinking instead of a dinner date night nearing autumn. But you looked up into Joel’s eyes, seeing if you could figure out what he was thinking before he said it, and it wasn’t hard to do so. It was all written on his face. The way those dark brown eyes darted away from your face and down to the dress and the way the fabric flowed around your legs; a slit in the cotton skirt of it showing just the smallest hint and promise of the skin beneath. His jaw hung slack, forgetting to maintain whatever class or politeness he may’ve felt was deserved. And then all he did was shake his head, eyebrows raised, bouncing a curl loose over his forehead. 

“Good?”

“You look…” he shook his head again, advancing upon you with outstretched arms that eventually found purchase at your waist. Fingers dug firmly into it, squeezing. “You look great… beautiful,”

Though you could tell that’s what he thought, hearing him say the word made your heart jump into your throat. He kept ogling, staring, and now up close. Heat rose in your cheeks and you clutched your hands over his biceps gently, urging him back. “Should we get going?”

He nodded and took your cue. A few quick steps toward your front door and he was pulling it open with a protective and secure hand on your lower back as you passed by. It all started to feel very… adolescent. Like he’d picked you up from home, all nerves and anxiety. Like you hadn’t already seen each other naked a handful of times. Like he hadn’t already been informed of the way you seemed to get a little more turned on when he choked you. The way he opened the front door, and then stood by your side, hand still on your back when you descended the porch steps. How you crossed the street together like that, smiling and talking to each other. You weren’t sure if he noticed but you sure did. Noticed that Mrs. Cole was knitting on her front porch when you passed by, and how she stood from that rocking chair and made for the house as quickly as her old bones could take her, calling for her husband. Or the way Kelly… poor Kelly… paused her progress on helping her kid out of his booster seat in the car and stared, having to witness the man she wasn’t a match for, parade down the street with the new neighbor who seemed to be.

That one made you bow your head, trying to avoid not only her gaze, but Joel’s as well. Had your initial resistance to men and relationships been a game? One that the very core of his primal being couldn’t help but want to chase? Had you trapped him here in a false promise that if he caught you and won, there’d be a prize at the end? There was a very obvious and adult way of figuring that out. You could ask him. Talk it out and see what was there. But that would require you to make it real. To say that you were noticing something between you two, and if he noticed that too, which he surely would after you’d brought it up. So you swallowed it and smiled graciously to him as he pulled open the passenger side door of his truck and helped you up into it.

Once you were settled, he closed the door and circled the truck to his side, wasting no time in getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The truck was in gear in no time, and right as he started off down the street, through the neighborhood, past all the nosy, small-town neighbors, he reached over and placed his hand on your thigh. Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a soft squeeze. You could feel his eyes shifting to you. Back and forth from the road to you; inspecting. And fearing that a conversation you wanted to delay would arise, you kept your gaze out the window. Downtown Austin was coming into view but Joel wasn’t exactly taking the route to get you to it.

“Slide on over here,”

Finally, you looked at him. He was already looking back at the road, but his hand on your thigh tightened and pulled, urging you closer to him. Closer meant he wouldn’t have as good of a view of your face, so you obliged. Moved yourself across the bench and settled in next to him, where his arm released your thigh and migrated up around your shoulders. His hand hung limp just over you.

“Nervous?” He asked and shook you gently. And being met with a questioning expression, he pressed a smile. “You’re kinda quiet,”

“Just thinking,”

“Uh oh,”

You nudged into his side, earning a more authentic smile and even a little chuckle. Foregoing focus on driving for a split second, he pressed his lips against your temple. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

A quick shake of the head was all you were hoping to have to do to dismiss the topic. Tell him? About how it was scaring the hell out of you that despite your best efforts and consciousness, you were somehow becoming dependent on him. Absolutely not.

Joel took a deep breath. He’d caught the shake of your head from the corner of his eye, and with your lack of clarification, his brain – which had already been on a witch hunt of its own – picked back up where it had left off. Only now you weren’t in front of the mirror with things that could be turned into eye weapons. You were just here. Next to him. Curled beneath his arm. And he couldn’t get this convoluted duality to quiet down. The one where part of it was riddled with this gentle caring and acceptance of what this was, and the other part that resulted in him finding his handprint on more than one spot on your body.

“I’ve been thinkin’ too, and I…”

He leaned forward in his seat, glancing out the side view mirror before he veered into the left lane. The silence gave you time to look up at him and study his face. The graying scruff at his jaw nearly meeting the curls that had grown long enough to wrap at his neck. 

“M’not sayin’ I didn’t enjoy it. I think it’s obvious I did,” he cleared his throat, attempting to get the image of you bent over the kitchen counter out of his head. His hand circled the steering wheel, fingers outstretched to make the right hand turn, before circling it back, getting it straight again. “Guess I’m tryna figure it out…” he paused and shook his head, deciding to ask a different way, “did your parents comin’ over have anything to do with… it,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping through you. And figuring his brain was cannibalizing itself more than yours was, you set your hand in his lap and squeezed his thigh, giving him the permission to continue.

“You askin’ me to make it hurt,” his eyes flicked down at you. All you could do was cower a bit more into his side, but he lost the nerve to keep his eyes on you, and shook his head softly again. “I know you said I did what you asked, but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard and actually hurt you, and…” he cleared his throat again. “If you asked because your parents showed up, and fuckin’ an older guy sorts out daddy issues, I… guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that’s alright if that’s what this is, but I need to know. ‘Cause then you’re saying stuff like you’re mine. And I know that was during sex, and I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for everything I say during sex, but…” He looked back down at you, the realization that he’d gone ranting catching up with him. 

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the drive was over. Truck now sat in a crowded parking lot. The world could look in and get a glimpse of something you’d rather have been doing in private. But Joel removed his arm from around your shoulders so he could turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition. “I can’t be the guy that marks up a woman like that,”

“Joel,”

“Not when she says stuff like she’s mine and… yeah I don’t care if it was just a during-sex thing.” He took a breath and cleared his throat, “so I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that with you again. The really rough stuff. Maybe if you were a one night stand. But you’re not. You’re… you,”

“What’s that mean?”

He glanced at you sideways and pushed his door open, “means we’re on a date. Stay there,” he slid out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind him.

And even if you had been so inclined to move, Joel cut you off by hustling around the front of the truck so he could make it to the passenger-side door first. He tugged on the handle and held the door open for you; his free hand coming down for you to steady yourself on the jump out of the cab. You, however, growing uncomfortable with his honesty, stepped out of the truck by yourself, choosing to forego his help. That was the absolute very least you could do.

If there was any thought or hope that at some point through dinner you’d both snap out of it and return to the chemistry you so obviously had in private, that was squashed by the time the waiter set your plates down in front of you. Conversation had waned – nay, come to a complete stop – and your drinks were the only things keeping your mouths busy.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at the waiter. A quick flick of your eyes to Joel had you seeing that he’d gone straight for his fork and knife, even refusing to say a word to the waiter. Who, also feeling the awkwardness in the air, left your table as fast as humanly possible. 

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Joel all but demanded.

“What do–”

Beautiful, divine providence. That’s all that could be said for the way your phone started vibrating in your purse at that very moment. And under any normal circumstance, you would’ve ignored it completely. But it was a sign from God. A get out of jail free card. Only you did just that – scoured through your purse with your hand in the shape of a ‘search claw’ and rifled around until you felt it buzzing against your fingers. Another quick glance at Joel to find his expression now purely unimpressed, before you looked down at your phone screen. And seeing the name across it, you wished you hadn’t seen it at all. 

Joel noted how you re-hid your phone in your purse by clearing his throat. When it grabbed your attention again, he raised his eyebrows, “talk to me. And don’t say it’s nothin’.” He pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, and just when you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to the punch, “be honest.”

“I’m not just fucking an old man to get over daddy issues, I’m fucking an old man because I like him,” you glared, a little meaner than you thought you’d be.

“Don’t pull punches,” he smiled.

“My mom is weak. My dad’s a steam roller. And I’ve spent my entire life being pitted against my sister in a battle of which one is prettier and which one is smarter. One of us was supposed to find a man to take care of her, and the other was supposed to get a career and take care of herself. Guess which one I am.” You lifted your wine glass to your lips, thankful this place had a somewhat palatable house red. “I asked you to make it hurt because I wanted to feel something. Something that overshadowed the things that their presence evokes in me. And if I’m being completely honest, I asked you to make it hurt because I like you. Because if you hurt me, I mean, really hurt me… even if it’s just in this way, then I can chalk you up as being like every other guy. No good,”

“You–”

“But I fucked up,” you interrupted him and set your wine glass back down. Cocked your head to the side and shook it absently. “Because you didn’t just hurt me like I asked you to. You fucking took care of me after. You ruined my plan,”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

You shook your head again. This time with more intent, “and Kelly saw us walking to your truck. She knows. And it looked like it broke her heart all over again. So I think we should stop doing this and you should give her another chance,”

“What about what I think?”

“Be able to give you the type of relationship you want. I think she’d make you really happy,”

“You make me happy,” he sat back in his chair and pressed a wide smile when that made your eyes return to his fully. “At least you do for now. Think you’re gonna be a pain in my ass in fifteen to twenty years, but maybe I’ll be dead by then,”

“Joel–”

“You know what I think?” He paused for effect but wasn’t actually looking for an answer from you. “I think it’s fucked your parents pitted you against your sister, knowingly or not. I think it’s fucked up that you were made to believe you’re only smart. I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. I think you should stop bein’ so afraid of wanting something. Or someone. And I think you should let me try and get you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” You exhaled in a way that sounded like a laugh of disbelief. “Good luck,”

He lifted his beer bottle, “don’t think it’ll be too hard. ‘Cause here’s the thing,” he scooted forward in his chair, a smirk growing across his lips as he leaned over the table toward you, “you ain’t never had a man take care of you before, and now you’re gettin’ a taste of it. You don’t know what it’s like to let a man in and let him love you. You won’t let yourself. Hell, you didn’t even know sex was supposed to come with aftercare.”

“Did too,” it dawned on you that you sounded more like a petulant child than a full-fledged adult.

“Yeah, you tryna sneak outta my house after the first time because I was gone a couple minutes… Sweetheart, you don’t even know what love looks like.” He took a sip of his beer, “how could you know something if it was never taught to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and keep the tears you felt burning in your eyes at bay. “What’re you trying to do? Make me feel stupid?”

Joel pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but notice but the best description for the expression he now gave was remorseful. “To you, bein’ stupid must feel like the worst thing you could be, huh?” His eyes searched yours for affirmation to his question and found more than enough of it. “It’s not. And you’re not,” Joel reached forward and took your hand when you tried to grab at your wine glass again. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them tight, holding on despite you fighting him to pull away. “You’re not stupid,”

“Joel,”

“You hear me? You’re not stupid,”

“Stop it, Joel,” you pleaded, the first tear falling from your eye, trailing a wet line down your cheek.

“You’re not, babygirl,”

Finally you’d manage to pull your hand out of his grasp and raised both to your face, covering your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry; to show your weakness. Your chest bounced and the breath caught in your throat as you tried to stifle your sobs. For the only thing worse than Joel seeing you cry, was the entire restaurant seeing you cry. And you’d either been at it for longer than you thought, or he managed to pay for the bill rather quickly, but either way, the next thing you knew was you were being hauled up to your feet. Joel kept a hand on your elbow and the other on your upper back. His thumb and index finger cradling the base of your neck to guide you safely out of the restaurant despite your head being bowed.

“Almost back at the car, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear.

You figured as much. You’d taken far too many steps to not be back at his truck by this point. Just a few more steps. A few more staggered breaths as calmness still evaded you. Then you were pulled to a halt and Joel reached forward for the door handle. He’d only manage to tug the passenger door open before you were turning into him, standing up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babygirl. I got you,” he kept his arms embraced around you tightly. Squeezed you to his body and kissed your temple in the same moment you pressed your lips to his neck for a kiss. 

He rocked you side to side, almost like what you’d do to a baby to soothe them. And whether it was the motion, or the smell of him, or the feel of his lips on the side of your head while he whispered all the gentle things you’d always wished a man in your life would say…

You’re alright, sweetheart. 

I’m proud of you.

You’re safe.

You’re not stupid.

And all these things that sounded a little bit like I love you.

Your breathing evened out. Lungs filled with fresh air that also smelled like his cologne. Once you lowered yourself from your toes and returned to your normal height, you looked up at him and sniffled. If he could like you looking like this, he could like you anytime. And Joel, always unwavering, pinned a genuine smile to his face when you showed him your face again. He lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks; thumbs wiping away the wet trails your tears had left behind.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, giving him an exaggerated pout.

He shook his head in return, “no, no. You been carryin’ this weight a long time.” He wiped his thumbs over your cheeks again, this time with a nod. “Don’t I look like a big, strong man that can carry some of it?”

You looked up into his eyes, really hoping that what you’d find was yes, he did look like someone to carry some of the weight. You also hoped that if that was indeed what you found, that it wouldn’t scare you away immediately. “Take me home, Joel.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Home.

Such an odd word to use with him.

Home.

What was that? Your house? His house? Either one as long as he was there? Maybe in this state you were just inclined to read too much into your own words. Let fear build in the recesses of your brain and wonder if they’d be the thing that would eventually scare him off. You figured it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Making you believe the worst before it ever happened, as if to ensure that it would. A self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Joel certainly wasn’t making you feel that way. Not on the entire drive back home. One of his hands on the steering wheel, the other stroking over the back of your head, playing with your hair. Him checking in with you every time a red light stopped your forward progress. Y’alright? And the gentle smile he’d return when you assured him yes. Not when he walked you back up to your front door and waited for you to unlock it. His hand remained on your lower back, his thumb dragging lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. Not when you asked if he’d come in and his answer was an immediate and resolute, of course.

And surely not now when you returned to your bedroom and found him lounging back in your bed in his underwear, ogling you when you walked in in nothing but the green flannel he was wearing earlier. The buttons undone. The fabric undulating against your body. Desire and lust flared up in his eyes as you crawled up on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he cocked his head back, inviting you forward to his lap. 

Legs straddled his waist with ease as if it had been a move you’d been perfecting with him for years. His hands folded to your thighs. Strong fingers wrapped around supple flesh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to stay over tonight.” You glanced to the side where Joel was already staring at you. “I’m exhausted,”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, turning his head straight again, “wasn’t planning on staying. Your bed fucked up my back.”

“My bed’s not the–”

Joel squeezed your thighs once, twice, quickly, “shh, c’mere, I wanna tell you a secret.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and pressed your hands to his chest. “What?”

“Come closer,” he whispered, very nearly forcing you to lean in just to be able to hear him.

So you did. Crowded his personal space and leaned in, very ready to turn your head to the side to get your ear closer to his mouth for this so-called secret. But Joel lifted his hand and took hold of your chin before you could turn it away from him. He held you there, and as your eyes widened in confusion, you noticed how his gaze danced over your face – from your eyes, to your nose, mouth, down to your chin where his grip grew gentler, and all the way back up to your eyes. And you opened your mouth to once again ask what the secret was, but your lips parted and before any noise could slip out, Joel met you the rest of the way. Leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, softly and then all at once. He inhaled deeply and upon releasing your chin, cupped his hand over the side of your face; fingers cradling the back of your head while his thumb stroked over your cheek.

You parted slightly, catching your breath, “that’s a good secret.”

“Got somethin’ else to tell you,” he hummed, not wasting any time in getting you back into a kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, allowing your tongue to meet his as it searched for entrance into your mouth. Finding it, a gravelly moan escaped his lungs, hung in the air between you for just a moment, until you swallowed it down. Beneath you, you could feel his length growing harder. Joel, too, let you know that he was aware of it. He let out another hum of recognition and reached around you with his free hand, ducking it beneath your ass, and tugged on the fabric of his underwear. 

With another breath, you pulled away from him and set your forehead against his. Eyes pinned downward, focused on your hands on his chest. Fingers dancing over the dusting of hair down the center. “D’you want me to blow you?”

His response was instantaneous. First by shaking his head. Then by the way he leaned in and pecked your lips, and the hand on your cheek drifted down to your shoulder and held you. “No… I–” he rested his head back on the wall behind your bed, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”

For the second time that night, you opened your mouth to say something. To tell him it was alright. You know he didn’t mean to do that. And for the second time that night, your phone interrupted you. There on the nightstand, the whole thing buzzed. The wood tabletop seemed to accentuate the noise and both you and Joel turned to look at it. You know he saw the name flash across the top. And knew he clocked the way you leaned over to quickly turn the screen black again, sending the call to voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that tonight either.

“Y’wanna get that?” he prodded gently. But you were quick to shake your head and return to your spot on top of him, taking him into another kiss. He took your shoulder again and eased you back. “Might be important if they keep callin’,”

“It’s just my sister,”

Joel’s eyebrows raised. Eyes widened. The very sister that so much of your inner baggage was tied up with. He didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to urge you to divulge too much and end up in tears again. He knew he was treading choppy water.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” you mumbled, sounding less than enthused. Running your fingers through his graying scruff, you tried to ignore the fact that you really would have to call her back tomorrow. “Sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

He shook his head again. More insistent this time. “Just want to cuddle up with you before you kick me out for the night,”

You smiled, almost to yourself as you leaned forward, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek on his chest. Legs straddled his lap, arms wrapped around his torso, You couldn’t have been closer to him if you tried. A yawn torn you, absolutely exhausted from the entire day. The fact that your parents had been there that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nuzzling into Joel, you let out a sigh, “your time tonight’s running short.”

He let out a chuckle, and the next thing you felt was his lips pressing down to the top of your head. A subtle nod of acknowledgment. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You woke up due to a shuffling around your bedroom. Squinting into the sunlight that poured in through the window, you spotted Joel pulling his jeans up his legs. He fastened the button and looked in your direction.

“Mornin’,” he looked around, searching for his flannel that you’d thrown off sometime during the night. “I’ve got an early job,”

You nodded and pointed him in the direction of the foot of the bed where you knew he’d find his shirt. “So much for not staying the night,”

He followed your tip and retrieved the garment from off the floor, quickly sliding it on and doing up the buttons, “yeah, my back’s paying for it.” Rounding back to your side of the bed, he bent forward and kissed your forehead, “you wanna come over tonight?”

Foregoing everything but a nod, you let your tired eyes drift back shut. The next thing you felt were his lips on yours, giving a chaste kiss. It almost made you think you could do this every morning for the rest of your life.

Sometime between Joel using the bathroom and leaving the house, you fell back asleep. Taken back to recuperate from the previous day. Looking forward to doing nothing but lounging around and knowing you’d actually have to put in some work today. Two hours later when you woke again, the rest of the neighborhood had too. The sounds of the suburbs seeping in through your old single-paned windows. Note to self, get Joel to replace those with double-paned. 

Rising from bed and starting your morning routine, you noted all the other things around the house you’d have to ask Joel to do. Fix that annoying drip of your shower head. Replace the kitchen faucet to something not so antique looking. Blow out your dryer vent so you didn’t accidentally burn the house down. As you added each thing to the mental to-do list, it became increasingly more frightening how much you needed him to do. How much you needed him. And if that just didn’t make your coffee taste like tar.

It really started to weigh on you. How dependent you were on him being around. How you were spending practically every night with him. Thankfully, the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention away from cynical thoughts. Even if it was your sister calling again. Surely talking to her would be less painful than the rabbit hole in your brain.

“Hi–what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to make sense of your sister’s frantic words. It almost made you feel guilty for sending her to voicemail the previous night. “What’re you talking about?” Another pause but her voice didn’t get any less agitated. “Slow down, I can’t understand you,”

Once she took a breath you were able to catch up on her rant. And what you’d gathered was unfortunately something you’d seen had been a long time coming. New parents with a single income in southern California, your sister was cluing into the fact that her husband – the father of her baby – wasn’t exactly the dad she hoped he’d be. You wondered why she was surprised by his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t gone to any of her appointments. He hadn’t waited on her when she was nauseous or doubled over in pain. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything for her in the nine months of what you’d heard had been a pretty hard pregnancy. So her surprise at his absence now that the baby was here was baffling. But here she was, complaining to you about how he leaves for work early in the morning, and comes back in the evening. And though she too had spent the entire day working – as a mother – he didn’t help her with the baby when he got back home. He sat  around, waiting for her to cook dinner, and change the baby, and feed and bathe the baby. He bitched at her if the house wasn’t tidied up. Shit, he hardly even acknowledged the baby. 

And though you wanted to ask her why she was surprised – this is who he’d always shown himself to be – you knew that wasn’t helpful. This was your sister’s new reality. Surely she was growing aware of what a mistake it had been to be to hitch her wagon to him. And you pointing that out wouldn’t change anything. It would still be a mistake.

“What can I do?” It was the only remotely helpful thing you could think to say. And it was genuine. You imagined venturing into motherhood was hard enough. Doing so as if you were a single parent when you expected to have the support of a partner must’ve added to the difficulty. So when she told you the thing that would be helpful, you agreed immediately.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

If Joel’s back wasn’t hurting enough before work, it surely was after. He limped up the stairs to his front door. One hand clutching the railing and the other clutching his lower back. The perfect night was looking like it’d include a heating pad and a lot of whiskey. He hoped you wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he’d just poured himself his first glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on the front door. Figured you saw him come home. He was going to be sure to make fun of you for watching him out your front window again. All ready to give you a good ribbing, he tugged open his front door with a big smile on his face. But upon seeing you, that vanished entirely. A large rolling suitcase was beside you. A carry-on sized duffel pack in your hands.

“Goin’ on a trip?”

“I’m goin’ to my sister’s house,”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered all the calls you’d avoided the previous night. Wondered how catastrophically wrong it had gone for you to be leaving. “Why?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna be back,”

“Can you come in so we can talk?” He stepped to the side to allow you space to come in. He wasn’t prepared for you to deny him.

“I have to catch my plane,”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He cocked his head to the side figuring you weren’t bound to tell him the absolute truth. Yet, he surmised he knew the real reason. “You’re spooked,”

“What?”

He nodded. Hit the nail on the head. “Something clicked in for you about us and now you’re spooked. Running away,”

“Am not,”

“Okay. Then tell me,”

“Joel, I have to go,”

“I’m not trying to trap you,” he murmured and stepped out toward you. “I don’t know what exactly got you spooked, but I’m guessing it probably has to do with me being around so much. Maybe I’m doin’ too much for you. Gotta get you to mow your damn lawn,”

“Joel–”

“I’m just trying to take care of you,”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know,” he nodded and cupped his hand to the back of your head. “But I want to. And I can. If you’ll let me,”

“I gotta go Joel,” you pressed back against his hand, but he did he best to keep you in place.

“Give me a kiss,”

You knew it was probably the wrong thing to do given that you truly didn’t know when you’d come back. If you would come back, or if you’d spend some time back in California and end up selling your home here. You knew it’d be easier to cut him off here. But his lips looked so soft and you yearned to feel them at least one more time. So you did as he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Let him cradle your head with all the fondness in the world and give you the most tender kiss you imagined existed.

Joel didn’t want to let you go. He knew if he did, each day that passed increased the likelihood he’d never see you again. But you eventually won out. Pulled away enough that your lips parted and you took a step back. You stared up at him, not fearing his gaze, almost as if hoping to sear his image into your memory. Then with a sheepish nod, you turned with your suitcase and walked off his porch and to the awaiting car he hadn’t even noticed had pulled up to whisk you away from him.

[l-in-the-light]

Do you think Law behaves different when he's only with his crew on the Polar Tang? 🤔👀

In this post I will answer multiple asks! Scroll lower for different questions answered! Now on to the first question...

That's a yes, if you mean that Law behaves differently with his Hearts than, let's say, some strangers or his circumenstencial allies, like Kid or Caesar (maybe also Kinemon). Obviously he spent a lot of time with his Heart Pirates, especially with Bepo, Penguin and Shachi (they're together for over a decade!). Thanks to them, he opened his heart again after losing Cora-san after all. There's probably no one else besides Heart Pirates and Wolf that Law feels as close with. They know things about him no one else does, like his D. name, his revenge plans on Doflamingo, what happened to Flevance, about his disease etc.

But does he behave differently with Hearts than he does with Strawhats? That's a bit harder to pinpoint. Yeah well, he knows Strawhats for a much shorter time than his Hearts, and Strawhats also don't know as many things about Law and his past as Hearts do. But Law was willing to trust Strawhats, regarding his own safety and wellbeing, and in exchange he protected them just the same way he protected his Hearts. What's really the difference between him saving Strawhats from Doflamingo in Dressrosa while attracting all of Mingo's attention on himself, and Law exchanging himself for Hearts in jail in Wano? I would say none, there's no difference, same level of dedication here and there. Let's take a bit of a look at other differences and similarities:

Telling his Hearts to stop yapping around and just listen to him and proceed with his plan.

Telling the Strawhats (well, just Usopp and Caesar) to stop yapping and just proceed with the plan. Yeah, exactly same attitude.

Ignoring their distress and giving them (impossible) orders to follow. Nami even said he's acting just like Luffy. Usopp in Wano complains Law is giving them orders like he's their captain too.

Giving orders to Hearts (obviously, he's their captain). He might usually try not to order Strawhats around, but when the situation requires that, he doesn't shy away from it, as long as it keeps them safe. He did the same when he took care of them in Wano "I will go after Strawhat! You don't show yourselves in public!" and "We need to get out of here" when Sanji's group attracted some trouble.

Telling Strawhats to just go and get killed, but never spill the beans.

Saying the same about his own crew. And he claims his Hearts would follow with it, they would rather die than spill the beans, no matter what. They're also certain Law will believe in them (he indeed does and he would not let them die).

He also worries for Strawhats when Sanji is missing, like he feels somehow personally responsible, despite this *being only an alliance*. Earlier he wouldn't do that, he would just pass the message to Strawhats through Luffy. But already at Zou Law treats Strawhats like their his crew as well, sticking his nose into their personal matters like it's his private problem as well.

There are more examples like that, the point I'm making here is: Law as a captain behaves exactly the same way with Hearts and Strawhats. He did take that alliance very seriously (like everything, he's a serious guy). He learned Strawhats strengths and delegated them into positions at Wano in which they could make the best use of their skills (Usopp as part of intel gathering group, together with Bepo, Penguin and Shachi to scout samurai and give them the coded pictures; Robin as a spy; Franky as his insider in craftswork's community; Brook for sneaking out supplies etc.) the same way Law manages his own crew to use their individual strengths in the best way possible, Shachi and Penguin for in-water cover, Jean Bart for tank etc.

The only difference between Strawhats and Hearts is the amount of time he spent with them, personal information he shared and... well, the family status. In the Law's novel Bepo, Penguin, Shachi and Wolf are like family to Law. Coincidentally, the manga chapter in which Law and his crew faces Blackbeard is called "The only family I've got". I argued in other posts that chapter titles usually refer to more than just one character or event in a chapter, so I'm pretty sure this one applies both to Bonney and Law. Yes, the Strawhats definitely didn't yet reach the status of "family" in Law's heart except maybe Luffy.

With Hearts, at least in the novel, Law smiles a lot more (so far the only time Law smiled with the Strawhats was in Dressrosa's feast). But we see it happen once in the manga as well (and also on his silly wanted poster before Wano):

He also trained them himself. From One Piece Red we know he would go as far as to accompany Bepo to Uta's concert, just so Bepo won't feel alone there. Law also lets them be as loud as they want, do the silly sentai poses, he draws the line only at disrespecting him (when Penguin and Shachi called him cute lol). He lets Strawhats do all that too tho, but he might not go to the same lengths for them like he did for Bepo in One Piece Red.

But do I think Law behaves like a different person than what we already know of him, when it's just him and Hearts? No. He just smiles a bit more and does some ridiculous things out of concern he wouldn't do for anyone else in the world, but I doubt they do some completely out of character things together, like Law suddenly having an impromptu karaoke night on Polar Tang (unless, you know, they made him drunk first, but that doesn't count lol) or rehearsing a sentai pose routine for Sora and Germa (he would totally watch them do that by themselves though!). He probably still spends a lot of time in his captain's quarters alone, but he makes sure to pay attention to his crew and for example, eat meals together. Eating meals together was apparently important for him since it reminds him of his home he had with Wolf in North Blue.

But I think most of their together-times happen actually out of intiative of his crew than Law himself, he definitely gets dragged into some stuff against his will, but he ends up agreeing just because he loves them so much and likes to see them happy (but he probably doesn't understand that his presence alone makes them happy, even though it also makes him happy to see them happy). He will never say that outloud though, because then they would take advantage of it Every Single Time. He's also more used to their antics than Strawhats antics, so it's easier for him to filter it out and focus on his own things, unfazed, while they're noisy in the background, lol. Law is like an introverted person in the middle of a cheerful and loud group circle (though I bet at least some Hearts are introverted as well. Penguin, for starters, or Hakugan, they give those vibes).

So, that's my vision of it. Hope you enjoyed! And yeah, I believe Law can reach exactly same level with Strawhats, he's already like halfway there (or maybe even slightly more?), after all.

I actually would love to see Law doing the Germa/Sora sentai routines with his Hearts Pirates tho... that would be so infinitely cute. I have actually one more post about Law and his Heart Pirates, leaving the link here in case anyone's interested: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/764268904433483776.

Oh, uh, I will be honest, he would be probably very awkward about it. His family wasn't really overly emotional imo. Even when Lammy is sick, she's doing her best, acting tough and not crying despite being in severe pain, which tbh would be expected of a child her age. Whenever Baby5 cried, Law seems to quickly lose his anger. When Bepo cries (or Penguin and Shachi in the novel), Law doesn't really know how to comfort any of them and usually doesn't do anything. When they're just sad or anxious it's easier for him to react, he usually tries to comfort them by trying to stay strong, even if it means faking his confidence about something. Because he's doing it for their sake, putting his own needs aside.

When Luffy was bawling and rampaging in Amazon Lily, I think it literally stunned Law:

And later he just waited for Luffy to calm down, siiting quietly at the shore. Which is why I believe if someone is sad or crying, Law would just give them their personal space and just wait till they're better, while watching gently and calmly from the side. Maybe he would want to offer more, like a pat, a hug or even just a nice word, but considering how bad he is at touching people and how he struggles in emotional moments, that would still end up being really awkward. He might reach out with his hand only to retreat it slowly without making any contact, or he will barely brush the clothes of the crying/sad friend in an attempt at being soothing.

Even if he tries to cheer someone up with his words, he would probably stutter quite a bit, because emotional moments like that tend to do that to him. Maybe he would try to say something like this: "You can cry all you want if it makes you feel better... I can... stay here". But I think what he would feel the most comfortable doing, would be to just stay quietly close by, not say a word, and guard so no one else would witness the sad/crying person in their most vulnerable state. Or, if that person is the type Law believes would feel better with someone actually able to give them support, he would just shamble them to the crying person and leave, to give them some privacy.

He knows he's not the best person to approach when someone is sad and crying and needs support. The only exception here could be Luffy, who we know tends to isolate himself when he's sad and/or crying. I think Law would behave exactly the same way in similar situation (isolate himself and be sad on his own), so those two just have the same coping mechanism. Law would quietly keep guard on the ship, at a distance, and that would be probably the best approach to Luffy crying. And if he's just sad, Law would wait till Luffy wants to talk about it (though Law would be able to guess the reason without them talking about it at all). Though Luffy is distress sometimes seems to forget about food so maybe it would be Law offering him some instead, creating a rare moment between them.

If Bepo was crying, Law would try to awkwardly comfort him, only to get hugged all of a sudden and soaked in his friend's tears as he himself struggles to keep the balance and to breath in the tight bear hug. So I guess Bepo again would be the exception here, but it would still go the same route after Bepo is done crying, he would offer him food (what a peculiar similarity to Luffy, I guess that must feel oddly familiar to Law) and then try to talk with him about whatever made him sad and cry, and then do everything he can to fix it, because of course he would take that trouble onto himself, like it's his personal duty. It's one of those rare moments he can actually do something to make his friend feel better, so he would dedicate 100% effort towards it.

But if it's someone crying or sad who Law doesn't know very well, or barely a friend, his instinct might be to run away from the spot, not because he has no empathy (though he might tell himself that, he easily judges himself after all), but because he feels even more awkward with someone he doesn't know. If it would be a crying child then that might be an exception (thanks to instant flashback to Lammy), so if it's a lost child he would be like "this is so annoying" while searching through half the town to find their parents, lol, while the child clings to his mantle. If the child isn't afraid of him, he *might* consider giving him/her a piggback ride, but since he's so unused to it, it will turn out to be quite a bit of a challenge. He's definitely not used to people being alright with him being close to them or touched by him, and that fear rarely leaves him. Sure, he improved a lot with Cora-san, to the point that being carried became alright, which is why I believe he could give a piggyback ride to a child as well, if he braves himself for it. But one fearful comment from the child and he might never do it again, so yeah, there's also that.

Summing it up: Law would awkwardly sit close by (or escape if he thinks that's the better option for both of them), wait patiently, be a guard, and then offer something for comfort afterwards (probably tea or food, but who knows, he might get more creative if he stresses it out). And if the person wants to he will talk about the reasons they were sad or crying, and offer solutions, because he's not great at saying sweet nothings and comforting words like "poor you" or "you're right to feel how you feel" (doesn't mean he thinks their reason for crying or being sad is invalid), rather he would try to improve the situation so it doesn't happen again, and if it does, that maybe it's a bit easier next time around. All the while he will be making his usual serious and grumpy faces (that's just how he is, okay? don't take it personally), and might later complain to himself about people being overly emotional and dramatic (probably not to their faces though, unless it's Chopper crying over almost nothing), because he has no idea what to do about that, but it makes him feel things which he also doesn't know what to do about.

Damn, I'm making him sound a bit autistic, aren't I? Not good dealing with emotional situations, offering solutions instead of comfort words... Is Law actually neurodivergent? That's actually a good question... He does have some traits, from what I can tell, but then so does Luffy and Chopper, and occassionaly other Strawhats as well, lol.

Oh, yes, the Japanese trend of making music MVs with anime characters dancing to it (or sometimes not only dancing, the point is they're like idols in music videos, dancing, singing or just being protagonist in some sort of story-telling music vids). https://youtube.com/@shinto_s?si=Jm9lnxVhH6UduKbV check it out if you didn't know it yet, this version is with Law and his Heart Pirates!

The art is really cute and pretty, and there was clearly a lot of work put into it (Law is slightly OOC or nerdy there, but it's okay). Personally I don't think the songs fit, but then I also don't know the lyrics, so I might be wrong about it haha. Thanks for sharing anon ✨I usually don't check out stuff like that, but I had fun watching those :D

Okay, fair warning now to anyone who made it this far in this post. You might want to skip my answer here, in case of potential spoilers. That's your last cue! This is the last ask answered in this message, so you won't miss out anything if you skip the rest.

For anyone that stayed and wants to know my answer: I think it's not possible. There are some hints in the manga suggesting that Law actually isn't cured from Amber Lead Syndrome, he only managed to slow down the disease (and ope ope no mi never had the power to cure him, because it's a hereditary sickness). That's why he was able to live for almost two decades longer than his estimated time when he was a child. In other words, I think he controls the sickness with his ope ope fruit powers. Which means, if he has a child he would have to do the same for them and they could never seperate, at all. His child still won't survive till old age. Maybe Law is able to slow down the symptoms and manage the sickness from within his body because he is the *user*, but he might not be able to do it for someone else (especially if he himself is sick as well).

If you're curious what are the hints I'm talking about, of Law not being actually cured, then I will leave you with a link where I talked about it in detail: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/759831834066599937. I also wrote about Amber Lead Syndrome being a hereditary disease here: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/759927365045485568. Of course if I'm wrong and Law is cured, then yes, the scenario you described, anon, would be possible and the problem would be solved. I just don't think it's that simple, but you're free to come to your own conclusions, of course!

[cellythefloshie]

;; I Did Something Bad Dedicated to @hockeyboysimagines

Summary: After you send a sexy snap to the wrong Brady, you and your stepbrother cross a line that you had never considered crossing before. Kinks & Tropes: Age Gap (18 vs. 22). Stepcest. Phone Sex/Sexting. Praise. Mutual Masturbation. Protective Big Brother. Reader Nickname: "Sissy". PLEASE NOTE, this work of fiction depicts a budding sexual relationship between step-siblings who grew up together from ages 10 and 14 - step-siblings who always considered one another siblings. -- Set during Brady's time as a New York Ranger. Word Count: 4k+ A/N: Happy Birthday to the lovely @hockeyboysimagines ! You have been the best worst influence for me as a writer, always encouraging me to write what I want to write instead of what I should be working on. And you very well know October was meant to be spent with the filthiest of Brady Skjei content. This is very much the tip of the iceberg for Brady and his stepsister, and I couldn't be more thrilled to get the two of them going because of your birthday. This fic is in no way groundbreaking, but it's filthy and fun and maybe even a little toxic. But if I know someone who is going to appreciate it for their birthday, it's you! AND a quick little shout out to @hagelpoint-3821 who was around when my filthy mind birthed this idea probably 2 years ago now! It's finally happening!

“Do you always think of me when you touch yourself?”

Your blood ran cold. You recognized the voice in an instant, and it wasn't the one you expected to hear when you answered the phone. And it was nowhere near anything you thought would leave your stepbrother's mouth. 

His words sent a rush of heat surging through you. It sent your skin red hot with embarrassment as you lay in bed, one hand still in your panties and the other holding the phone to your ear so tightly your hand ached. You wished the embarrassment could have been for him. That he had somehow dialed the wrong number. That he meant to dial whichever slut he had in whichever city he was in for the night. But that was just a dream of a possibility, because he knew exactly what he was doing when he phoned you. 

Silently, you drew your phone back from your face, a quivering breath trembling through your body as you opened Snapchat on your phone and looked at your last sent messages. At the top of the list was Brady, the red and white arrow beside his name showing you the last message sent to him was minutes ago. And just below him, the intended recipient of your message, Braedy. He was an idiot you’d met in the back row of your first year psychology class. You’d exchanged numbers on the first day, which led to helping him with assignments while he helped you with orgasms. But while he was in his dorm room across campus, rock hard and waiting for your next risque picture, you lay still in bed with your stepbrother on the other end of the phone. 

Swallowing hard, in an attempt to moisten your dry mouth, you accepted that the silence had been too long to pretend that you hadn’t accidentally sent him a picture of your hand in your panties. 

“I-” you started, but you formed no words. Anything you could have thought to say became strangled in your throat.  "Sissy, was that picture not meant for me?" Brady asked, saving you from the need to provide him with some sort of explanation, but it didn't make you feel any better. Your heart continued to pound against your chest as it flooded with panic and embarrassment.

“No, I, ah-” you breathed, your attempt at words more of a stutter than the beginnings of an explanation. 

“And I thought you were being a good girl-” your core clenched “-focusing on your studies on campus. I don’t have to come down there and check in on you, do I?”

You shook your head slowly as if he could see it, your hair becoming a mess on your pillow. Your breathing was shallow and uneven, your body hot and sweaty even as you lay there in nothing but a cropped t-shirt and your panties. Panties that your hand had yet you leave and your crotch was still damp with arousal from the brief exchange of photos before Brady’s interruption. An interruption that should have dried you up like a desert. Yet, you were just as wet as when you answered the call, if not wetter. 

“Are you still there, sissy?” It was only with his words that you realized he couldn’t see your response. 

“No, I-” your throat caught your words as you fumbled with what exactly to say. Brady’s words were so calm, sounding cautious and thought out, while your mind was so frantic you couldn’t even think of the right words to say. 

“I’m still here,” you confirmed with a breath, “and no, you don’t need to check on me.” 

“I’ll be in the area next week,” he hummed slowly, and your eyes darted to the calendar that was on your bedside table. The Rangers would play in Minnesota soon, and while you were sure the team wouldn’t give him time to come visit you on campus, Brady never seemed to fail at scaring any prospecting partners away. It was the big-brother thing to do, or at least that’s always what you guys told yourselves. But as he spoke with his words so thought out as if he was trying to tiptoe through the situation with caution, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was and had always been a little more than that. 

“No, no,” you protested, “I’ll be good.”

“Will you?” Brady challenged. “Be a good girl and block that boy for me.”

“Brady-”

“Do it and show me.” The firmness of his voice sent a wave of heat through you. There would be no fighting him on this, so you obliged.

Slowly, your hand left your panties, the elastic waistband snapping against your hip before you brought your now freed hand up to your phone. You cradled the phone in both hands as you turned on the screen recording and captured blocking your classmate, Braedy, on Snapchat and his phone number. Then you sent the video to your stepbrother, Brady. 

“Good girl,” he praised you, “keep it that way, alright, Sissy. No distractions. Promise.”

“I promise,” you breathed out, though you were fully entertaining the idea of unblocking Braedy as soon as this awkward phone call was over. What Brady didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, or you. 

“Good girl,” he said again, your body reacting the same to his soft praise, and it nearly left you reeling against your pillow. You shouldn’t be feeling that way, especially with Brady on the phone. Yet, you forced out a quivering breath and chalked it up to coincidence and the poor timing of his call. “Are you in bed?” he asked you slowly. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. 

“Wearing those pretty little panties?”

You lay there in the same silence that had consumed you when you had heard his voice when you had answered the call. Had you just heard him right, or was your mind playing tricks on you? Or maybe, just maybe, you had fallen asleep watching shitty pornography, and this was all just a dream. 

You pinched yourself. 

No, not a dream. 

You had accidentally sent your stepbrother a suggestive photo, and now he was what, trying to have phone sex with you? It didn’t make sense, but did all at once.

The two of you had always been close, even if your parents hadn’t married until you were 10 and he was 14. He had snapped into your life so perfectly. Brady was the big brother you had always wanted. From helping you with your homework, to attending both his high school football games and his hockey games, too. The two of you did it all together. Even when he was off to college, you were there supporting him, counting down the days until you too would attend the same university in his footsteps. And then there were the jokes, made by your own parents, that if the two of you weren’t siblings, the two of you would get married. It was always a joke, one that both you and Brady had laughed at - but it was all coming to crest now. Had the joke always been funny because it was true?

The two of you just never admitted it - or fully entertained the idea - until you had forced it all by accident. 

Biting down on your lip, you chewed it slowly as you took in a slow breath. You had a decision to make, and the weight of it rested heavily on your chest. You could answer him, paint a sexy little picture for him with your words, or you could hang up. 

“Brady,” his name was weak on your lips, your tongue darting out to run over your lips slowly. 

“Sorry,” he spoke quickly, “I can hang up. We can pretend this didn’t happen-”

“No, don’t,” you spoke out too quickly as you shot up in bed, “don’t hang up.” 

He replied with nothing but a soft sigh, one that sounded like a smile and relief. 

Slowly, you pressed up onto your knees, your thighs pressing firmly together to ease the tension that continued to build throughout your body. One hand left your phone and tucked your hair behind your ears and out of your face before falling to rest on the top of your thighs. “Where are you right now?” 

“My hotel room in Detroit,” he answered slowly. 

You swallowed hard. “Alone?”

Brady hummed his confirmation into the phone, sparking a sense of excitement into you. “Maybe,” your lips curled up into a soft smile as you spoke, “I could send you another picture. Would that be wrong?”

Yes. Yes, it would. But he didn’t stop you. Instead, Brady encouraged you. “Wrong? No. It’s just a picture, right?” You weren't sure if he was trying to convince you, or if he was trying to convince himself that what you were about to do was okay. 

His words made you giddy when they should have. And with a stupid smile, your phone left your ear as you positioned yourself on the bed. You knelt there with your legs slightly spread so he could have a clear view of your panties. Snapping the picture, you wrinkled your nose at the outcome. You didn’t like it. You posed again after fixing your shirt just right to show off just the right amount of under-boob in the next picture. It was great, but there was one issue: you could see your face. Thumb hesitating over the send button, you contemplated about taking another, one where you couldn't see your face. A picture like the ones you had sent your classmate earlier. Yet, you hit send. Because this was Brady, and if he shared it with anyone else, he would get into as much trouble as you would. 

“There, I sent it to you,” you told him as you brought the phone back up to your ear.

You could hear Brady's satisfied hum through the phone as you relaxed back on the bed. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he told you and you threw yourself back on the pillow with a too wide grin. “Such an amazing body you have, Sissy.”

Your cheeks flushed with color. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen so much of your skin. Your family had taken a vacation somewhere hot every year for as long as you could remember, but this was the first time Brady could really comment on it. 

“Can I show you something?” Brady asked, and your heart quickened. 

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, and you waited patiently, your face half buried in your pillow as you waited for his picture to be sent. 

Yet, when that red square popped up on your screen, you hesitated to open it. It was one thing to send a picture, but to receive one. Opening it would mean you both crossed a line and there would be no coming back from it. Then, as you did most decisions, you took the risky option with no consideration for the repercussions you would face in the future. You held your thumb down on the screen, the sight it unlocked leaving your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes went to the shadow of his abs first and traveled down the dark trail of hair on his stomach as it began just below his navel and disappeared behind the gray fabric of his sweatpants. Licking your lips, you indulge yourself in the sight of his cock tenting up against his sweatpants. You had no words, your mouth falling agape in a heavy exhale as you tried to keep your body calm. But it was too late. Your skin was hot with arousal and on the verge of sweating, and as you pressed your ass down into the mattress, you could feel just how slick you were between your thighs. 

Raising your phone back up to your ear, you greeted Brady with a quivering breath and he spoke with confidence into your ear. There was no need to tiptoe around things now. “You see what your little accident did to me?”

“Oh? Did I do that?” you answered his question with a question, your words knowing and sickeningly sweet as you let your hand run down your own stomach and stopped at the waistband of your panties. Your fingers traced over its edge slowly, craving to dip deeper, but you would wait. 

“Do you think you can help me take care of it?” Brady asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice. You bit your lip, hiding your own smile from yourself, and he must have taken it as a moment of hesitation because Brady’s words found your ear again. “You have such a great body, Sissy. It’s so hard to ignore, and that picture,” he let out a long exasperated breath, “send me another one?”

“What do you want to see?” You asked him. Your words were a breath that you thought he might not even have heard. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable showing me,” Brady answered. 

His words had been soft, melting you further and further into the mess of a puddle that you were. “Let me just,” you hummed out, “give me one second.”

Peeling the phone away from your ear, you opened Snapchat again. You tried to take a picture laying down, but each one left you feeling undesirable. Then you rolled over onto your side where you knew your cleavage would be the star of the show if you had been wearing anything else, but the high neckline of your cropped sleep shirt kept your breasts at bay. You let out a frustrated huff as you moved to the edge of the bed and spread your legs. At this angle, he could see just how wet the crotch of your panties was. 

With your phone in one hand, you posed with the other. You placed it on your inner thigh first, but you didn’t like that. Then, you rested it over your panties but decided it was too close to the first image he had received. You almost gave up, but then, with the quick swipe of your thumb over the screen, you were recording yourself as your fingers dipped inside the fabric of your panties and found your clit. You pressed into it with the pads of your fingers and stroked it in two slow, agonizing circles before you sent it, without reviewing it, to Brady. 

Your hand didn’t leave your panties as you sprawled out lazily over the bed. Stroking yourself slowly, you listened to Brady breathe into the phone, undoubtedly watching the clip you had just sent to him. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, and you pressed into your clit harder, “so beautiful, sissy. You’re so wet,” Brady let out a low groan, “you make my cock so hard.”

“Are you touching yourself, Brady?” You asked him, your words breathy, “Touching yourself, because of me?”

“I am,” he confirmed with a heavy breath into the phone, “you want to see it, Sissy?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, your feet leaving the floor to dig into the mattress. You dipped your fingers down lower, parting your wet lips and teasing the entrance of your core as you waited for the notification to buzz against your ear. It almost startled you when it did, even if you were expecting it. 

Lulling your head to the side, you let the clip play. Brady was laying in the hotel bed now, his sweatpants pulled down just below his balls. His hockey hardened hand wrapped around his thick cock as she stroked it slowly. Up and down, then up again, making sure you could see the very length of him. 

Your eyes shut as the clip disappeared, trying to keep the sight of it in your mind as you plunged two fingers into your dripping core. 

“Brady,” you gasped out, your phone laying back on the bed almost completely abandoned until you had reached out quickly to put the call on speaker. You couldn’t hold it any longer. You needed both hands now. With your two fingers in your cunt, your other hand dipped beneath the cotton and found your clit again, rubbing it in those same slow circles. 

“You like that, Sissy?” Brady’s voice erupted from the phone beside you, and you were suddenly thankful that your roommate had been spending the night at her boyfriend’s place. No one would overhear him saying things stepbrother shouldn’t say, and no one would hear you moan. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, and it sounded like a whine.

“What are you doing now?” Brady asked you slowly, his words quick as he breathed through the pleasure of his own hand. “Your hand still in your panties, Sissy?”

“Yes,” you gasped out, “they feel so good.”

“What feels good?” Brady asked you slowly, “tell me.” 

“My fingers,” you squeezed your eyes tighter, fighting to speak your words when all you wanted to do was moan. “My fingers in my cunt.”

“That’s so sexy,” he told you and a wave of heat hit you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge that you already felt on the verge of falling over. “How many?”

“Two,” you panted out. 

“Two? That’s not nearly enough.” A lump formed in the back of your throat as he spoke. “No, no, I think I’m at least three of your fingers.” Your walls clenched at the very idea of sliding a third finger into your core, and your hips wiggled, taking your own fingers until they were knuckle deep at the very prospect of pretending that you were being fucked by his thick cock. “Can you do that for me, Sissy? Put a third finger in for me?”

Withdrawing your fingers, you brought three fingers together and pressed the very tip of them to your entrance. You gasped at just how much more they would fill you. “Brady, that’s too much,” you gasped. 

“Would I be too much for you, Sissy?” His question made you shiver. “Is my cock too big for that pretty little pussy of yours?”

“I-I,” you stammered, your heart racing deep in your chest as you hesitated to even try. 

“Take a breath, get nice and relaxed for me,” his words were soft as he guided you, “circle your cunt with three fingers for me. What do you feel?”

“I’m dripping,” you told him with a quivering voice. “I can feel it all down the back of my hand.”

“Good girl,” he cooed, “so slick and horny for my cock. Slowly press just the tips of your fingers. Nice and slow.” His words were gentle and encouraging as you followed his guidance, your core feeling so tight around the tips of your fingers, but the longer you held them there, still inside your cunt, the better it felt. 

“And when you’re ready, press in just a little bit more.” Delving your fingers in deeper, you let out an audible gasp, one that left Brady moaning on the other end of the phone. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you assured, your toes curling over the edge of your bed as you pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping core. “It feels so good, Brady.”

“I can hear how wet you are, Sissy,” Brady groaned. “You like this? You like thinking of me when you touch yourself. Talking to me when your fingers are buried in your cunt.”

“Yes,” you groaned through your grit teeth, “yes! I’m so close, Brady.”

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you come. I want to hear what you sound like when you moan,” he encouraged you, and you could hear his hand pumping at his cock. 

Your body reeled in your bed, your hips jutted into your own hand as you gasped and moaned out. Core clenching around your fingers, squeezing them as if they were desperate for the come of his cock. You rolled over, so you were laying face down in the bed. Your hips angled, taking your fingers down to the knuckle and humping them until you fell into the dreamy haze of your release. It left you dazed, so ready for sleep, as you lay there staring at your phone, panting. 

The air was silent for a long time, nothing heard but your own breathing as you calmed. It was a silence that lulled you close and closer to sleep, and Brady must have known it. “Are you going to sleep now, Sissy?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Good girl, get cleaned up and rest. I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?”

You hummed out in approval, “okay, night Brady.”

“Night.”

The line cut, leaving you in the silence alone with nothing but the weight of what just had happened. It should have bothered you, you knew it should. Instead, you were calm as you rolled out of bed and stepped out of your wet panties. Abandoned on the floor, you left them there as you reached for the makeup wipes you kept on your bedside table. The cold wipe was a shock to your skin as you wiped your hand clean and then used another to clean up the inside of your thighs. A proper shower could wait until morning. 

Clean, or rather clean enough, you crawled back into bed and pulled up the covers only to get him in the face with your phone that had become lost in the mess of your blankets. You let out a low curse as you pushed the covers off to climb out of bed once more to plug in your phone. Blocking your path were your panties, and your heart raced as a mischievous ideal struck you. The idea had you regretting taking them off so quickly, but it was nothing another makeup wipe wouldn’t fix. 

You stepped into your panties and pulled them back up again. Then, you propped up your phone on your desk so that the camera focused on the space between your hips and your mid thighs. When you pressed record, you took a half step back and hooked your thumbs on each side of your panties. You dragged them down slowly, your legs spread just wide enough for the camera to capture your arousal as it webbed and beaded as you peeled your panties from your body. You dragged them down your leg, leaving wet trails down the inside of your thighs until you stood there naked from the waist down in front of the camera. 

You were giddy when you stopped the footage, your cheeks flushed as you sent it off to Brady with no shame. It gave him something to wake up to in the morning. A little reminder of what just had happened, and how your body responded to his words and his guidance. It was fun, though the only person you would ever admit that to was yourself. Not even Brady could know. Not when you were sure he would wake up in the morning with your little gift and be hit hard with the reality of the situation. That one picture accidentally sent to him spiraled further than you both should have let it. 

And as you crawled back into bed, you kept telling yourself: It was just a picture. It was just a phone call. What you did wasn’t wrong. It was a happy little accident, something that only happened one time, and you told yourself it wouldn’t happen again. That was until you woke up the next morning and found a text message from Brady on your phone. 

You hadn’t even left your bed yet when you opened it. Your own video met with his own, one that you could hear your own moans in the background of. While you had been riding your own three fingers, Brady had been thrusting into his hand and was capturing it all on camera. It was a video you were sure he was saving for himself. A dirty little secret he would watch when he wanted to remember what you sounded like when you came. But it was more than that now that he sent to you. Because it wasn’t just a recording of the soft sounds you made, it was also a video of how Brady let out a sigh that you didn’t remember hearing. A video of how his cock twitched and throbbed as it was so close to release–and how he sighed out your name as he shot thick webs of his release up over his toned abs before the phone dropped and the screen went black. It was the video that put everything in perspective. Together you and your stepbrother had created a fucked up little fantasy, and while it was wrong, you didn’t want to stop.

TAGLIST: @mp0625 , @wingedwheelprxncess , @kurlyteuvoteu , @couldawouldashoulda50

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Yanno something I don't think is explored nearly enough? Ambrosius's relationship with the Director, and I'm referring to both versions here because they're both interesting in both similar and different ways

For the movie version (I will talk about the comic version on this post too, don't you worry) first of all my pal @walrus150915 wrote an incredible fic exploring this for the NBB please go read it right fucking now, but moving on from that, Ambrosius arguably saw the Director as his mom, or at least a stand-in for his mom.

She was (or seemed to be) a nurturing but authoritative adult who guided him in the role he was supposed to fill. A lot of people like to write her as an overtly nasty bitch in pre-canon fics, and while I completely get that, let's not forget that Ballister, at the beginning of the movie, found it potentially believable that he was her favorite student. He was dumbfounded and devastated to see she had been the one to frame him, he couldn't believe it and never suspected her for a second. I'll talk more about Ballister's relationship with her in another post, but the point is this is an Oscar-winning actress, people!

Ambrosius had every reason to look up to her and believe she cared about him. And she went from (in his perspective) treating him with patience, kindness, sympathy and respect, to trying to MURDER HIM.

You don't just get over a parental figure doing something like that to you (then oh yeah, promptly fucking d y i n g). The pain, the loss of realizing someone you loved and trusted was never who you thought they were (after he'd been battling those same feelings about Ballister) and never really cared about you as a person, it would be devastatingly traumatic. Like poor guy what the fuck. He had to cope with that WHILST trying to repair his broken relationship Jesus Christ

And that's not even getting INTO the comic version, which I will be getting into now. There's a big difference between the two and I think that's in no small part due to the timeframe. C! Ambro has been under the Director's thumb a full 15 years longer than his counterpart. This gave her time to exert more control over him, and also gave him time to grow more aware of her behavior. M!Ambro and the Director have the relationship of a person and their (non-sexual) groomer, while C!Ambro's relationship with her is more overtly that of a person and their abuser.*

She's regularly seen threatening him, threatening to have his loved one (Ballister) killed if he doesn't obey her thereby forcing him to do things against his will (like murder a child), insulting him, and showing him absolutely zero sympathy or kindness, even when he's seriously harmed. I think Ambrosius would, by this point, know that the Director isn't a good person and that she doesn't love him, but she's had much more time to sink her claws into him.

He's not going to leave her. This life, being the Champion, working for her, it's all he knows, and it's all he has. Where is he going to go, back to Ballister? Ballister hates him (because the Director took measures to isolate Ambrosius from him) and he's worked for the Institution his whole life. He knows the Director is bad, but he still trusts her. This is the devil he knows, at least, so by the time the story takes place he at least feels confident that they have a mutual understanding.

I imagine it took time to get to this point. He saw her as a mentor and spent most of his life desperate for her approval. After the joust, I can only imagine this got worse. She was all he had, and he'd do anything to prove himself worthy of the championship title he knows deep down that he stole. He probably saw her as a real friend for a long time, no matter how obvious she made it that the feeling wasn't mutual, and that he'd have to try ever harder to earn her praise.

What I'm saying is this man spent fifteen years under the boot of his abuser, then after fifteen years of grooming and psychological abuse she threw him in the trash, stripped him of his title and everything he'd worked for, tried to have his lover executed, then fucking died. And NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT??? HELLOO?????

*this is not to say that M! Ambro's relationship with the Director was not abusive, it was, or that C! Ambro wasn't groomed, he was. Simply that for him, the grooming had more time to develop into overt, recognizable abuse.

[s-wave-entertainment]

*BAM*

THAT WAS THE SOUND OF ME BUSTING THE DOOR DOWN. HI. Okay so first thing's first, I recently saw an animatic (??) by @/armintist on Instagram about N's perception of Tessa as of ep. 6 and it has broken the dam. Your honor I think about what must have been going through his head at that given moment So Often; some may say too often (I know my roommate definitely would, sorry Anna-). Y'all, he literally just remembered her existence and because we have no canon timeline as to how long was between eps. 5&6, I'm going to assume it was no LESS than two hours, IF EVEN. Doll could have gone straight to "Tessa" from Uzi's house, we'll never know. But like... what in the fuck was going on in his brain? This person, who he KNOWS that he knows, that he has vague, barely comprehensible memories of from a time far back into his past that he only just got back, is suddenly standing right in front of him again. And he hesitates, because OF COURSE HE DID. It looks like her (or does it? He doesn't remember his face, he never even truly saw it), it sounds like her, it feels like her... but how long has it been? And why here, why now?

Honestly, "Cyn's" pretty smart. She knew he would be willing to go along with what he told her because he's never really pressed into his memories before. He's relieved the tidbits of them, sure, but he tends to acknowledge them and move on. She knew all she had to do was act right and he would probably trust her. But what she didn't account for was him finding a love worth fighting for, and that's where her ultimate fucky-wucky was. But I'm not here to talk about "Cyn's" strategy, I'm here to talk about our beloved traumatized murder robot puppy.

What do you think happened when it hit him that that skin over Cyn's body wasn't of it's own creation? That his friend was technically still alive, if you count her preserved remains being thrown over a robot body like some sick and twisted reverse fursuit. And it can't be said that that didn't happen, because it definitely did. N's little episode in the hallway while "Cyn" hunted them down showed us that he is in fact recovering his memories. Slowly, and at very unfortunate times, but he is. And I can almost guarantee you that at some point, in some way, he must have recovered the full memory of the gala massacre. And oh me oh my, that must have been a long, hard day for him. Thank God he has Uzi now-

That aside, he must eventually realize what happened. And as he remembers more and more good times with her, his little heart probably just shattered more and more. Along with all of the other BULLSHIT he must be remembering following ep. 8.

AND ANOTHER THING ON THAT NOTE. I have so so so many emotions about N and how good he is and how,,,, Genuinely Good his heart is. Like actually. Y'all, need I remind the court that he was supposed to KILL Uzi. He had her PINNED TO THE WALL with a wing, but after watching her father turn around and ABANDON HER, he stopped. And sure, it can be reasonably said that this is because he spent some time with Uzi beforehand, but how long would they have had together, logistically? Ten minutes, maybe twenty, tops?? The fact that that was enough for him to COMPLETELY CHANGE SIDES and want to help her instead (which is also attributed to the conversation they had in the cockpit but again, TEN MINUTES)... listen, Uzi had no one before she found N, but N had no one either. J openly abused him, and V had to act like she hated him to protect him. N was lonely, just like Uzi. Somehow, someone found him who was kind to him and seemed to actually care. She was a little edgy, but she talked to him and she listened. It was more than he had at the base - and the same was true for Uzi. But again, I could talk about how much I love NUZI for hours, right now I want to talk about how good N's heart is. He was a worker, once. A worker who did everything he could to be... useful, to Tessa's parents, but a good friend to Tessa. And he loved his friends. He has,,, so much love in his heart. He always has. And he gives it so readily, and it can hurt him, but he like - he gets better about it, I believe. He can guard himself better these days, but he just. He still cares. And he cares so much and he just. GOD. GOD I LOVE HIM AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH. FUCKING HELL-

[queerfables]

So Buck and Tommy are sitting down at this swanky but discreet hotel bar, an hour early to their meet up with Abby because at some point between the words "Sure I'll have a threesome with you and your girlfriend" coming out of his mouth and waking up this morning next to the fiance he's spent years trying to want, Tommy has had a life altering realisation about himself.

Tommy had suggested rescheduling the meeting, but apparently Buck's girlfriend is super busy with a bunch of life stuff that Buck was vague on the details of, and this is the only time she can make for like three weeks.

"And look, it's no pressure," Buck had said. "Even if nothing ends up happening like that, I still want you guys to meet. You're cool, she's cool... You should totally be friends."

So instead he's here checking his watch and trying to figure out how to tell Buck that he doesn't want to sleep with his girlfriend because he maybe doesn't want to sleep with girls at all, and side note but he kind of has a fiance he probably needs to leave, and he has to say it in the next... oh God it's only 47 minutes now.

But the thing is. The thing is. It turns out the words I'm gay are so, so easy to say. He's spent years locking them carefully behind his teeth and now that they're finally out all he feels is relief. And Buck just blinks at him, and then his face splits into a huge grin, and Tommy realises that Buck's mirroring him, because he's grinning too.

"So that's a no on the threesome, then?" Buck says.

Tommy laughs. "Yeah, not so much. But look, if you have any hot boyfriends you want me to meet..."

And then he's gearing up to say the next thing, the Evan, there's something else, because if he's going to start being truthful then maybe he should try being all the way truthful, when Buck's phone rings.

"Oh, hold that thought," Buck says, checking the caller ID. "It's her, and listen, I know I said it's hard for her to find time, but I can still totally cancel, I mean, this is big for you, right?" But Tommy, feeling lighter than air, waves him off.

So Buck answers the call, and Abby is like "Hey, listen, I know I said I couldn't get there until later but my - well, I was supposed to have a fitting for this stupid wedding I'm going to be in, but the groom rescheduled last minute so I'm free. Want to meet up early?"

And Buck is like "You're gonna be in a wedding?"

"Yeah, well, in theory. I'd invite you but I've sort of already got a plus one."

"Maybe next time," He says, pleased when Abby laughs, though he's not sure he's in on the joke.

He tells Abby they're already at the bar and they'll see her when she gets there, and she's like "Oh, that's perfect, because I'm actually walking through the door right - "

And then her voice cuts off abruptly, and beside him, he feels Tommy go still as ice.

"Abby?" Tommy says.

In perfect unison, Abby says, "What the fuck."

Okay but WHO is gonna write me the fic where Buck meets Abby and Tommy while they're still together and accidentally seduces both of them independently of each other. And homewrecks the hell out of that relationship but, like, for their own good.

[rendevok]

“Take my hand” pages 5-11

1 - day 2 - truth - 3

[dreamsy990]

good thing sora doesnt ask questions

[altruistic-meme]

if you could... describe aftg in 5 words

oh this is not as easy a question to answer as it should be akfhsdkf bc like. i could describe its plot, or my thoughts on it as a fan, or how it makes me feel, or just make a joke, or or or and bc idk why you're asking it makes it harder :'))

but let's see...

plot: gay sports mafia found family.

fan: drama, familiarity, trauma, comedy, home

feelings: love, understanding, chaos, joy, comfort

joke: you know, i get it-

(as you can see, i couldn't pick which one to go with, so choose whichever 5 words you want lmao)

[goblin-enjoyer]

*draws something for the first time in a while. “Man I suck at drawing! Maybe go back to being good at it if I draw more!”

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

*doesn’t draw

“Oh I got a neat idea for a drawing! Surely I have gotten better by now!” Loop post

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

god help me i'm going insane about dickson xenoblade again

[imflyingfish]

Fish you are so good at building to me your the Bdubs of people I know

Pheo ;w; ty

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING STATIONARY THE CURSE OF BEING A DISCOVERY WRITER WHEN YOU'VE GOT SOME BUT NOT ALL OF YOUR SHIT FIGURED OUT!!!!