#it might be something I think about forever

[santaasi]

obviously blind

pairing: james potter x bsf!fem!reader

summary: for years, james potter thought he was chasing love. sirius black knew better — he’d been holding it all along.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love, james calls reader love, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 11.3k

a/n: it was probably the longest idea to write and edit. i rewrote every moment a bunch of times trying to bring it all to perfection. therefore, this time I hope more than ever that you will like it and you will support me with a like, comment or reblog. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing…

slaves – footprints

You left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

Would you promise me you'll never let me go

November 15, 1971 My dear best friend, Hogwarts is brilliant! You should see the castle; it’s massive, with these moving staircases that sometimes take you to places you didn’t even mean to go! I tried to get to Charms class last week and ended up in the Trophy Room instead. Sirius says it’s part of the fun, and I’m starting to agree. Speaking of fun, I made a new friend! His name’s Sirius Black, and he’s a bit of a troublemaker like me. Don’t tell Mum, but we might’ve let some Filibuster’s Fireworks off in the Great Hall during lunch. The teachers were furious, but the look on their faces was worth it. How’s Beauxbatons? Is it true your castle is magical in a totally different way? Sirius said something about unicorns roaming the grounds. Is that real? Write me everything—I want to know what it’s like over there. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am.  Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WAS UTTERLY SPENT. Not the charming, rakish kind of spent he might brag about after a late night of mischief, but truly, completely, soul-drainingly done. The journey to the Potter family cottage, which should have been a brisk jaunt, had turned into a Herculean trial. Blame the snowstorm that had swept through magical London like some vengeful Norse curse, burying everything in its path under heaps of frosty misery.

It started with a delayed train — no, not delayed, imprisoned. Sirius and James were already aboard when the announcement came, trapping them in a stuffy carriage surrounded by loudly complaining wizards and at least one crying baby. And because the universe clearly found Sirius’ misery entertaining, the train came to a jolting halt halfway to their destination, snow packing the tracks so thickly that it took hours of magical clearing before they moved again.

When they finally arrived at the station, they discovered that Mr. Potter, their much-needed savior with a warm car and a better attitude than either of them, had been delayed at work. Thus, Sirius and James were left to trudge through the snow-laden countryside, dragging their trunks behind them, with James’ endless chatter about Lily Evans ringing in Sirius’ ears like a persistent curse.

“Her smile, Padfoot,” James had sighed dreamily at least seventeen times, his glasses fogging up as if even thinking about Lily caused them to malfunction. “And the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating—”

By the sixteenth sigh, Sirius had been sorely tempted to shove a fistful of snow into James’ face. By the seventeenth, he was mentally composing a list of Unforgivable Curses and ranking them by efficiency. Yet, even as he grumbled under his breath, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to abandon the trek. The Potters were the closest thing he had to a family, and spending Christmas anywhere else — no matter how dire the journey — was unthinkable.

When they finally reached the Potter home, Sirius didn’t so much step inside as collapse into it. He shoved the front door open with the dramatic flair of a man escaping death itself and sprawled across the polished wooden floor like a martyr for his own cause. His trunk fell beside him with a satisfying thud.

“Home at last,” he groaned, voice muffled against the rug. “Tell me, Prongs, do they serve last rites before cinnamon rolls, or do we skip straight to the feast?”

The cottage, of course, was as warm and welcoming as Sirius remembered. Strings of fairy lights twinkled across the beams, casting a cozy glow of red, gold, and green. A holly wreath hung crookedly on the wall — lil’James’ handiwork, no doubt — and the scent of pine mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, butter, and something sweet. Sirius’ stomach growled audibly.

“Oi, shut it, you ungrateful mutt,” James shot back with a grin, though Sirius could see his friend’s eyes darting toward the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing us in front of the wreath.”

James hadn’t even set his trunk down before a figure appeared in the doorway.

At first, Sirius barely registered her presence. He was too busy muttering about the injustice of underage magic restrictions. But then — oh, then — she stepped fully into view.

A girl.

Not just any girl, but you.

You moved with a kind of quiet confidence that Sirius instantly clocked, your steps unhurried, your presence undeniable. The golden glow of the fairy lights danced across your hair, giving it a shimmer that seemed almost unreal. You were wrapped in a deep blue jumper — Sirius realized this after a moment’s brain lag — and your cheeks were rosy, likely from the heat of the kitchen.

You carried a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, the scent of melted sugar and spice trailing after you like some kind of domestic enchantment. Sirius’ mouth went dry, and for the first time in years, he was at a loss for words.

“Well,” he managed after a beat, hauling himself upright and trying for a semblance of decorum. “Now I see why you were so keen to come home, Prongs. You’ve got cinnamon-roll-bearing angels dropping out of the sky.”

You laughed, soft and melodic, the sound so unguarded it seemed to wrap the room in warmth. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts inviting and mysterious.

“Hello to you too, Sirius,” you said, your voice carrying a familiarity that made his ears perk up.

Sirius blinked. Wait. Of course. This wasn’t some celestial being summoned to his rescue; this was James’ childhood best friend. The one James had vaguely mentioned — just a handful of times over the years, always in passing and with a strange softness that Sirius hadn’t thought to question before.

And yet, here you were. In the flesh. Standing in the middle of the Potters’ living room with a tray of baked goods and a smile that Sirius suspected had the power to stop traffic.

“Well, well, Jamie-boy,” Sirius drawled, nudging James with his elbow and watching his friend with amused curiosity. “You never told me the famous cinnamon-roll angel was also — what’s the word? Ah, yes — real.”

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ antics, though your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you glanced toward James, who looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

Sirius smirked. “James, mate, you alright? You’ve gone all... slack-jawed.”

But James wasn’t paying him any attention. His hazel eyes were locked on you, wide and brimming with something Sirius couldn’t quite place. He watched as James' gaze traced over the streak of flour smudged on your cheek, the stray strands of hair escaping from your ponytail, and the red apron dusted with flour and cinnamon.

Sirius almost snorted aloud. This was the James Potter who couldn’t shut up about Lily Evans — the boy who spent half his waking hours plotting ways to win her over. And yet, here he was, staring at you like you’d just descended from the heavens.

“Jamie,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

It was just one word, but the way you said it — warm, tender, and utterly unguarded — sent a jolt through Sirius.

Before he could process what was happening, James crossed the room in a few long strides and swept you into his arms. You squealed in surprise, and the sound was pure delight, echoing off the walls.

Sirius blinked, startled. The way James held you — hands firm on your waist, his head dipping into the crook of your neck — wasn’t friendly, not by a long shot. Sirius had known James since he was eleven years old, had seen him charm and flirt with half of Hogwarts, but he had never seen this.

“Missed me, Jamie?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his unruly hair with the kind of ease that spoke of years of familiarity.

“Always,” James murmured, so quietly Sirius barely caught it.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to explain this baffling scene, but it was just him, James, and you, wrapped up in some intimate little bubble that made Sirius feel like an intruder.

James murmured something into your shoulder — too soft for Sirius to catch — and you laughed, your voice light and unrestrained. The sound pulled James’ head up, and Sirius couldn’t miss the way his eyes traced your face with a kind of devotion Sirius had only read about in sappy romance novels.

It was then that the memories began to click into place. The scattered mentions over the years, the odd tone James always took when he talked about you. “She’s not like anyone else, Padfoot. She just gets it.” Or that one summer when James had come back to Hogwarts looking utterly miserable and wouldn’t explain why. Sirius had teased him about it for weeks, thinking it was Lily-related. But now, seeing the way James looked at you...

“Wait a minute,” Sirius blurted, his grin widening as realization dawned. “You’re the one. The one he’s always sneaking off to write letters to, the one he’s all secretive about.”

James shot him a glare, his cheeks burning bright red.

“Padfoot—”

“—the one who sent him that hideous scarf last Christmas!” Sirius continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I knew there had to be someone. Prongs doesn’t just get that moony-eyed look over just anyone.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, while James muttered something about strangling Sirius later.

Before Sirius could needle him further, the kitchen door creaked open, and Euphemia Potter swept into the room. She was radiant as always, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw James.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even attempt to protest.

“Hi, Mum,” James mumbled, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Euphemia pulled back, cupping his face in her hands as though memorizing every detail. “It’s been too long, Jamie. Too long. You’re far too skinny — have you been eating properly at school? And what have you done with your hair?”

James groaned, though his smile was fond.

Then her eyes fell on Sirius, and the warmth in her expression grew tenfold.

“Sirius, my dear,” she said, moving toward him with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, too.”

Sirius froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this — the genuine affection, the way Euphemia made him feel like he belonged.

When her arms wrapped around him, the embrace firm and filled with love, Sirius felt an odd lump form in his throat. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s cold, perfunctory hugs, her disdainful gaze, and the way her affection always felt like a transaction.

“You’ve grown even handsomer,” Euphemia said, pulling back to study him. “Fleamont’s going to be jealous.”

Sirius managed a crooked grin, the lump in his throat still stubbornly there. “That’s the goal, Mrs. Potter. Keep him on his toes.”

Euphemia laughed, her eyes twinkling, before cupping his cheek briefly. “You’re family now, Sirius. Never forget that.”

Satisfied, Euphemia turned her attention to you. Her face softened even more, and she reached out to squeeze your hands. “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering where my helper had gone. The mince pies won’t bake themselves, you know”

You shot James a quick, playful glance before following Euphemia toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you said, your smile lingering. 

As Mrs. Potter ushered you toward the door to finish the pies, Sirius remained rooted to the spot. The warmth from her hug lingered, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of how lucky James was to have parents like that — and how lucky he was to have stumbled into their lives.

James watched you leave, his gaze following you until you were out of sight. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mate,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder. “You’re a goner.”

James huffed, shoving him away, but the goofy grin on his face was impossible to hide.

And Sirius? Sirius couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

July 2, 1973 My Love, Summer’s only just started, and I can’t wait to see you. Mum’s already planning another one of her “legendary” tea parties, which means she’ll fuss over you endlessly. You’ll smile politely and charm her like always, and she’ll end up spoiling you with biscuits to take back to Beauxbatons. I’ve got so much to tell you. Sirius and I found this secret passageway that leads straight to Hogsmeade. We’ve been practicing spells to make it even harder for Filch to find us. Remus is shaking his head, but I think he secretly loves our schemes. Oh, and Lily—she’s still brilliant. She’s got the most incredible laugh. But you, my love, I bet your laugh would still outshine hers any day.

Do you still walk in those Beauxbatons gardens at sunset? I can imagine you there, glowing in the soft light. It suits you. Write me back quickly, won’t you? The days are always better when I hear from you. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK HAD ALWAYS KNOWN JAMES POTTER WAS A TACTILE PERSON. James spoke fluently in the language of touch — claps on the back that lingered just a second too long, overly enthusiastic shoulder bumps that almost knocked you off your feet, and the occasional arm slung around your shoulders like he was staking a claim. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the way James touched you. It was the way he seemed to orbit you, like some lovesick moon drawn to its planet. Wherever you were, James was never far behind — hovering, grinning, completely and utterly besotted without even realizing it. And for someone so allegedly brilliant, he was astoundingly stupid about it.

Sirius noticed it within minutes of their arrival at the Potter cottage for the holidays. As the snow settled outside, so did James — right beside you, always beside you. If you were arranging the flowers Euphemia had insisted on, James was there offering suggestions like he’d suddenly become an expert on floral arrangements. If you were curled up in the drawing room with a book, James was sprawled across the nearest sofa, pretending to read but actually just watching you out of the corner of his eye like some hopeless romantic idiot in a badly written Muggle novel.

Sirius had been rolling his eyes so much, they were practically stuck in the back of his head.

THE SECOND MORNING WAS WHEN THINGS REALLY CLICKED. Sirius had woken up earlier than usual — a rare and uncomfortable event for him. He had no plans to do anything productive, of course, but the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway intrigued him. Padding out of his room, he peeked around the corner just in time to see James sneaking toward the kitchen.

Naturally, Sirius followed. He found James standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up like some kind of domestic god, arranging breakfast with the precision of someone preparing an offering to Merlin himself. There was a plate of toast with cream cheese and thinly sliced avocado, a bowl of berries that looked like they’d been picked by woodland elves, and a steaming cup of coffee. The smell alone was enough to make Sirius reconsider his usual disdain for mornings.

“Fancy,” Sirius said, leaning lazily against the doorframe, voice still scratchy from sleep.

James jumped slightly but recovered quickly, flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “Morning, Pads. Coffee’s on the counter.”

Sirius eyed the tray suspiciously. “Is this for you, or is it for your favorite person in the world aka me?”

James’s ears turned pink. “It’s for her,” he admitted, almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes crafting the most meticulous breakfast Sirius had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Sirius muttered with a smirk, grabbing a mug for himself. “You realize this is bordering on embarrassing, yeah?”

James shot him a look, but before he could respond, you appeared in the doorway, still looking half-asleep. Your hair was mussed, and the oversized jumper you’d borrowed from James was slipping off one shoulder, but you somehow managed to look effortlessly radiant. Sirius rolled his eyes again.

“Morning, love,” James said, his voice soft and warm in a way Sirius had never heard before.

“Morning, Jamie,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you shuffled into the kitchen.

James practically tripped over himself to hand you the coffee. Sirius watched, amused, as James’s fingers brushed yours in the exchange, his entire face lighting up like someone had cast Lumos Maxima directly on it.

You took a long sip of the coffee, humming in contentment. “Perfect, as always,” you murmured, looking up at James with a sleepy smile that could have melted a Dementor.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sirius nearly choked on his coffee. He wasn’t sure what was more painful — the nauseating sweetness of the moment or the fact that neither of you seemed to realize how completely ridiculous you were.

“Right, well, I’ll just... leave you two to it,” Sirius said, waving his mug in mock surrender as he backed out of the room. “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James called after him, but the way his voice wavered slightly betrayed his embarrassment.

By the time Sirius reached the living room, Euphemia and Fleamont were already seated by the fireplace, exchanging knowing glances like they’d seen this coming a mile away.

“Is he making her breakfast again?” Euphemia asked with a smile that was far too pleased for Sirius’s liking.

“Every detail,” Sirius confirmed, sinking into an armchair. “I’m starting to think he’s auditioning for Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Devoted Boyfriend’ feature.”

“Don’t tease him too much,” Euphemia said with a chuckle. “He’s just like his father was with me.”

“Merlin, it’s contagious,” Sirius groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “If I start acting like that, someone put me out of my misery.”

But even as he joked, Sirius couldn’t help but smile. Because for all his teasing, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that James was hopelessly gone for you. And judging by the way you looked at him, Sirius had a feeling the feeling was mutual — even if neither of you was bright enough to figure it out.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE SMALL, INTIMATE TOUCHES SIRIUS COULDN’T IGNORE, no matter how much he wanted to. James’s hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through a doorway, like you might somehow lose your way without him. The way his fingers traced lazy patterns on your knee under the dinner table, as though the contact grounded him. Or how he’d tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just long enough to make Sirius roll his eyes and fight back a gag.

It was maddening to watch, really. Not because Sirius minded the affection — no, James deserved a bit of softness in his life, and you were undeniably good for him. It was maddening because you were both so oblivious. James was a goner, sure, but you weren’t far behind. Every time you leaned into his touch, smiled up at him like he hung the stars, or called him Jamie in that soft, teasing tone, it was like watching two wizards tiptoe around a cauldron, waiting for it to explode.

One evening, as the three of you lounged in the living room, the dynamic was on full display. The Potters had insisted on a family movie night — Euphemia’s idea, of course, because family time was important. Sirius couldn’t say no to the fire roaring in the hearth, the massive bowl of popcorn, and the ridiculous Muggle Christmas film flickering on the screen. But as the minutes passed, he started to regret not escaping upstairs.

James had situated himself squarely in the middle of the sofa, with you tucked neatly under his arm. His hand played absently with the ends of your hair, fingers twisting the strands like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You had your legs curled beneath you, leaning into him with the kind of comfort Sirius had only ever seen in old couples who had been together for decades. James pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something Sirius couldn’t quite catch.

It was unbearable.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Sirius interrupted, launching a piece of popcorn at James. It hit him square in the forehead, a small but satisfying victory. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie without choking on all this sap.”

You burst into laughter, sitting up just enough to toss a handful of popcorn back at him. “You’re just jealous, Black.”

“Jealous? Me?” Sirius placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Of what, exactly? Watching James Potter transform into a human puddle before my very eyes? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

James didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, looking every bit the lovesick fool he was. “You’ll get it one day, Pads,” he said with infuriating calm.

Sirius snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. “Right. Because what I’m really missing in my life is the chance to turn into that.” He gestured at the two of you with a dramatic wave of his hand.

But despite his teasing, Sirius couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. James, the arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, devil-may-care prankster he’d known all his life, was utterly, completely, hopelessly in love. And the worst — or perhaps best — part? He didn’t even seem to realize it.

BY THE END OF THESE COUPLE OF DAYS VACK AT THE POTTER COTTAGE, SIRIUS KNEW. James Potter wasn’t in love with Lily Evans — not really, not anymore and maybe not ever. He was in love with you. It wasn’t in the dramatic declarations Sirius had once teased James about making to Lily. No, this was quieter, deeper. It was in the way James’s gaze softened whenever you spoke, like he couldn’t believe you were real. In the way his hand always seemed to find yours, even when there was no need for it. And in the way his entire being lit up when you smiled at him.

And you? You weren’t much better. You laughed at his terrible jokes, poked fun at him with an ease Sirius envied, and looked at James like he was the center of the universe. It was so obvious it made Sirius want to scream.

“This isn’t normal, you know,” Sirius said later that night, cornering James in the kitchen as he made tea.

“What’s not normal?” James asked, far too casually for Sirius’s liking.

“You and her. You’re not just friends. Stop pretending you are.”

James frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “We are just friends. She’s my best mate, Pads. You know that.”

Sirius laughed, loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Oh, Prongsie. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” James shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his voice.

Sirius leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you’re just friends, then I’m a unicorn. Face it, Potter — you’re in love.”

James opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then you walked into the room, yawning and looking for all the world like you belonged there. James’s expression softened immediately, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Sirius didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

Because James Potter was already lost, and for once, Sirius didn’t mind watching his best mate fall.

March 30, 1975

My Love, It’s been ages since your last letter, and I miss you like mad. Exams are coming up, and I’m hopeless at concentrating without your words to keep me sane. The Marauders are in full swing, though—our latest adventure involved sneaking a swamp into one of the corridors. Filch is still grumbling about it. I told you before how Lily has the most beautiful laugh, right? Well, I think she might finally be warming up to me. I’m playing it cool, but honestly, every time she looks at me, I feel like a kid with a new broomstick. And yet... you’re still the one I write to when I want to share everything. Funny, isn’t it? How’s the ballet going? I remember you mentioned your school recital. I wish I could see you dance. You’d be like a dream on stage, graceful and bright. Maybe one day. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WASN’T ONE TO BELIEVE IN LOVE — not the kind spun into poetry or whispered in secret corners of libraries. Sweet words, fleeting touches, long glances… all of it sounded like an elaborate prank. A fantasy created by people who hadn’t tasted the bitterness of the world.

How could anyone believe in love when raised in a house where affection was a weapon and the family motto might as well have been stab first, smile later? The Black family had given Sirius many things: wealth, privilege, and a last name dripping in infamy. But love? That was a foreign concept, spoken in a dialect he’d never been taught.

And yet, Sirius Black — child of darkness and rebellion — had found light. That light had a name: James Potter. From the moment James had barreled into Sirius’s life, grinning like the sun itself, everything had shifted. James had yanked him out of the shadows and dragged him into a world Sirius didn’t know existed — a world filled with warmth, laughter, and actual hugs.

It wasn’t just James, though. It was the whole bloody Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were like characters out of a Muggle holiday film. Euphemia, with her soft, unrelenting affection, had made it her personal mission to drown Sirius in love and sweaters. Fleamont’s laughter could fill a room, a deep, belly-shaking sound that warmed Sirius from the inside out. Together, they moved through the world as though their love was an unshakable force, a steady undercurrent in every shared look and word.

“Darling,” Fleamont would call from across the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a newspaper in hand.

“Yes, Fleamont?” Euphemia would reply, her smile soft and teasing as she stirred whatever heavenly dish she was making.

Never by name. Always darling.

Still, if love like that was rare, James bloody Potter seemed hell-bent on stumbling into it without even realizing.

James and you had been dancing around each other for years, so oblivious it was borderline painful. Sirius sometimes wondered if you two were practicing for a comedy sketch, the way you acted like best mates while exuding the kind of tension that could make a Dementor blush. If Sirius had a Galleon for every time James looked at you like you were the only person in the room, he could have bought his own Quidditch team by now. And he's only been watching you for a couple of days.

IT WAS THE FOURT DAY OF HIS CHRISTMAS STAY AT THE POTTER HOME, and the dynamic was impossible to ignore. You and James were practically inseparable, moving through the house like two planets caught in the same orbit. You helped Euphemia with the decorations while James carried boxes of ornaments up from the cellar, always hovering nearby like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the doorway, “most people don’t need to supervise someone hanging tinsel.”

James didn’t even glance back. “She’s not most people, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For Merlin’s sake, just marry her already.”

James froze, an ornament dangling from his hand. “What are you on about? We’re just friends.”

“Sure, and I’m a Muggle,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes.

You, blissfully unaware of the conversation, turned from where you were perched on a stepstool. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Sirius is just being Sirius.”

“That’s never good,” you teased, smirking at Sirius.

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m delightful company.” Sirius crossed his arms, feigning offense. “But if you’re not careful, pretty, you’ll end up trapped in Potter’s web of undying devotion.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the stool. “Potter’s web of what now?”

James shot Sirius a warning glare, but Sirius just grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just that James here is—”

“Hungry!” James interrupted, loudly and awkwardly. “Right, Pads? Didn’t you say you were starving?”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head as James practically shoved him out of the room. “Subtle as ever, Prongs.”

From Sirius’s vantage point, it was painfully obvious. James was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. And you? You weren’t much better. The way you smiled at him, teased him, trusted him without question — it was all the evidence Sirius needed. And yet, you were both blissfully, idiotically unaware.

One evening, as Sirius sprawled on the sofa in the Potters’ living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way you and James interacted. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, rifling through a box of Christmas decorations Euphemia had set out.

“Jamie, hand me the gold bauble,” you said, tossing him a quick glance over your shoulder.

James, who had been half-heartedly untangling a string of lights, immediately perked up. “Which one?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “The one in your hand, genius.”

James laughed, tossing it gently toward you. It missed entirely, landing with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Good aim, Prongs,” Sirius drawled from his spot on the couch. “Truly inspiring.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James shot back, but his grin never faltered. He turned to you, sheepish. “Sorry, love.”

Love. Sirius didn’t miss the way the word slipped out so naturally, like James had been saying it his whole life. And he definitely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the decorations.

LATER THAT EVENING, SIRIUS FOUND HIMSELF LAYING ON THE SOFA IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN (it probably was his favorite place in the house by now), a book abandoned on his chest as he watched Euphemia and Fleamont dancing in the kitchen once, a slow, swaying movement that didn’t match the upbeat Muggle music crackling from the wireless. Euphemia had rested her head on Fleamont’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only place in the world she belonged. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy — just simple and unshakable. And it made Sirius ache in ways he didn’t understand.

And a moment later they were in the same kitchen, preparing tea and laughing softly as they worked.

“Darling, pass me the sugar, would you?” Fleamont said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Euphemia handed him the sugar bowl without looking up, her smile soft. “Here you go, darlin'.”

It was the kind of exchange that Sirius might have mocked once. But now, as he watched the way Fleamont leaned in to kiss Euphemia’s cheek, or how she swatted him away with a laugh when he tried to sneak a biscuit, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“They’re sickeningly sweet, aren’t they?”

Sirius turned to see you standing in the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

“They are,” he admitted, sitting up and motioning for you to join him. “But it’s sort of... nice. In a vomit-inducing way.”

You laughed, settling beside him. “I think it’s lovely. They’re so in tune with each other, you know? Like they’ve been dancing to the same song for decades.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching you as you spoke. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want that? The whole ‘dancing to the same song’ thing?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice, but... I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Because my dance partner’s too busy tripping over his own feet to notice I’m right here.”

Sirius stared at you, his mind racing. Did you mean James? Surely you meant James. But before he could say anything, James walked in, ruffling his hair like he always did.

“Alright, what are you two plotting?”

“World domination,” Sirius replied without missing a beat. “Want in?”

James grinned, flopping onto the sofa and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Always.”

Sirius watched as you leaned into James, your head resting against his shoulder. James turned to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded.

And that’s when Sirius knew — again, because he seemed to be realizing this every ten minutes — just how much trouble you two were in.

DAYS LATER, SIRIUS WAS STANDING BY THE WINDOW OF THE POTTER COTTAGE, a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The world outside was a vision of winter — snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, the trees bowed under its weight, and the air held a sharp, crystalline stillness. Inside, the house was alive with warmth: the crackle of the fire, the gentle hum of Euphemia’s humming, and Fleamont’s cheerful banter as he set up a chessboard by the hearth.

But Sirius wasn’t watching any of that. His attention was fixed on the two figures trudging down the snow-covered path just beyond the window.

You and James walked side by side, your mittened hands brushing against each other with the kind of unconscious familiarity that spoke volumes. The path ahead glittered in the weak afternoon sun, the frost catching the light like scattered diamonds. Clouds of breath curled into the frosty air as you laughed at something James said, the sound clear and bright, even from a distance.

Sirius couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw everything in the way James turned his head toward you, his face lit with the sort of joy that was impossible to fake.

Then it happened — your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. Sirius’s grip on his mug tightened for half a heartbeat, but James was already there. His hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall, as if the world might crumble if he didn’t catch you in time.

“Careful there, love,” James said, his voice carrying easily through the crisp winter air.

You laughed, brushing snow from your coat as your cheeks turned pink — not just from the cold, Sirius was sure. “You’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.”

James grinned, tugging you a little closer to his side. “Good thing you’ve got me.”

“Good thing indeed,” you replied, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your voice soft and full of affection.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, James reached out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered for just a moment, his expression open and unguarded, filled with something so pure that Sirius had to look away for a second.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had seen that look on James’s face. It was the same quiet, awestruck gaze he’d noticed a thousand times when James thought no one was watching. But seeing it now, against the backdrop of snow and laughter, it struck Sirius like a Bludger to the chest.

That’s how Fleamont looked at Euphemia, Sirius realized. He’d seen it that very morning, when Euphemia had walked into the kitchen with a sleepy smile and Fleamont had paused mid-sentence, his face lighting up as if she were the sunrise itself.

Sirius took a long sip of his hot chocolate, the sweetness of it sharp against the lump forming in his throat. He muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Never by name. Always love.”

“What are you smiling about, Sirius?” Euphemia’s voice broke the quiet, warm and curious. She stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

He turned, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Oh, nothing, Mrs. P. Just watching James make a right fool of himself in the snow. Again.”

Euphemia chuckled, stepping closer to peer out the window. Her gaze softened as she spotted you and James, now engaged in some sort of playful shoving match, James clearly letting you win.

“Hopeless,” Sirius added, shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” Euphemia said with a knowing smile.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the scene outside. Sirius’s gaze lingered on James’s hand as it rested on your shoulder, the ease of the gesture speaking louder than words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sirius allowed himself to believe. Not just in the love he saw in James’s face or the easy affection between Fleamont and Euphemia. But in the idea that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t the cruel, twisted thing his family had tried to make him believe.

Maybe love, real love, was something entirely different.

November 27, 1976

My Jamie, Winter has settled over Beauxbatons, and the mountains are kissed with snow. I wish you could see how the frost sparkles on the trees. I think of you often, imagining the mischief you’re up to at Hogwarts. I heard you’re Quidditch Captain now — congratulations! I can already picture you soaring through the air, the wind in your hair and that unstoppable grin. You were born to lead, Jamie, and I’m so proud of you. Your mum wrote me again last week. She’s sent another scarf, this one in Gryffindor colors. She says it’ll keep me close to you. It does, in a way — I wrap it around myself when I miss you most. Do you think of me as much as I think of you? You’re my constant, my warmth on the coldest days. Soon it’ll be Christmas, and we’ll have the stars and endless nights to talk about everything. Until then, stay safe, my Jamie. Forever yours, Love

THE CHRISTMAS CHAOS AT THE POTTER HOUSE STARTED BEFORE SIRIUS EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE HOUR. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Fleamont Potter most certainly was, barreling into James’s room with the energy of a man half his age. Before Sirius could properly complain — or hide under the covers — he and James were unceremoniously hauled to the garage. Their mission? Assembling the absurdly large Christmas table that Euphemia insisted on every year.

Sirius swore under his breath, wrestling with the oversized wooden monstrosity. “You know,” he grumbled, glaring at James, “if your parents had just gone for a nice, normal-sized table, we wouldn’t be out here freezing our—”

“Language, Sirius!” Fleamont interrupted cheerfully, though there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied, though only because Euphemia’s kitchen smelled like heaven, and he was determined to earn his way to a plate of whatever was roasting in the oven.

Inside, the house was a picture of festive perfection: holly strung along the bannisters, twinkling fairy lights glowing softly in the corners, and a wireless by the fireplace playing carols just loud enough to make Sirius hum along when no one was listening. Euphemia’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with yours as the two of you prepared a feast fit for kings — or in this case, a house full of Marauders.

And James? Well, James wasn’t himself.

Sirius noticed it almost immediately. His best mate was usually a hurricane of enthusiasm during the holidays, cracking jokes, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But today, James kept glancing toward the kitchen like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

The idiot was besotted.

Every time your laughter drifted into the room, James’s head whipped around like he was under some sort of spell. If you so much as said his name, he’d stop mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner. Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly if it weren’t so... obvious. Painfully, ridiculously obvious.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, WHEN JAMES AND FLEAMONT HAD VANISHED TO THE GARAGE — probably to charm something they had no business charming — Sirius found himself tasked with tidying up James’s room. He grumbled the whole time, of course. Cleaning wasn’t his style, and James’s room was a disaster zone: Quidditch magazines spilling off the desk, parchment crumpled in corners, and socks scattered in ways that defied the laws of physics.

“Honestly, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, holding up a suspiciously stiff sock with the tips of his fingers. “How are you supposed to woo Evans — or anyone, for that matter — when your room smells like the wrong end of a hippogriff?”

As he moved to clear a particularly cluttered shelf, a box caught his eye. It was tucked in the far corner, partially hidden behind an old textbook. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Anything stashed away like that was bound to be interesting. With a mischievous grin, he reached for it, only for the entire thing to tumble off the shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, crouching to pick up the mess. His hand froze mid-reach when he realized what had fallen out: letters. Dozens of them, bundled in ribbons of various colors.

Sirius sat back on his heels, eyeing the pile. His curiosity, as always, got the better of him. With a glance at the door to ensure James wasn’t about to barge in, he grabbed the nearest stack and plopped himself onto the bed, cross-legged and grinning like a kid about to open a box of Zonko’s best tricks.

The first letter he unfolded smelled faintly of vanilla. Your scent, Sirius realized, and his grin faltered for just a moment.

October 7, 1971 Beauxbatons is so different from Hogwarts. The professors here are so strict, James, sometimes it feels like I’m being watched all the time! I miss the feeling of freedom you must have at Hogwarts, even if you’re always getting into trouble with Sirius. Do you ever just wish you could escape the rules and run wild?

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting. “Trouble? Me? Never,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

But as he reread the letter, a strange tightness settled in his chest. The way you wrote about Hogwarts — it wasn’t just about the school. It was about James. Even miles away, you saw him as something larger than life, as the embodiment of freedom and adventure.

And James? The idiot probably thought you were just being polite.

February 21, 1971 Sirius sounds like a bit of a handful, but I bet he’s hilarious. I think I’d like him, even if he does cause chaos. You all sound like you’re constantly up to something, but I imagine you get into trouble a lot, don’t you? Anyway, I’d love to hear more about his pranks— I’m sure you and him must make a great team!

Sirius barked a laugh. “A handful? Pretty, you have no idea.”

Still, the words struck a chord. He could see it so clearly now: the way you’d woven yourself into James’s world with every playful question and teasing remark. You weren’t just curious about his adventures; you wanted to be a part of them, to understand the boy behind the Quidditch bravado and the wild schemes.

Then came the letters about Lily.

March 25, 1973 James, you always talk about Lily, and I think it’s sweet that you have such admiration for her. I bet she doesn’t even know how much you like her. She sounds like she’d be really hard to win over, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, yeah?

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s saggy pants, Prongs, how thick can you be?”

He could almost picture you writing those words, the careful balance between encouragement and self-sacrifice. Even as you pushed James toward Lily, your letters were saturated with love — pure, unguarded, and heartbreakingly unspoken.

It was infuriating. How could two people so obviously meant for each other be so oblivious?

By the time Sirius reached the later letters, the humor had drained from his face.

December 5, 1974 Your mum sent me another gift! She’s so sweet, and I can’t believe how kind she is to me. It always makes me feel so loved. You know, when I’m away from you, it’s like I’m missing something... like the best part of my day. I never want to take our friendship for granted.

The parchment crinkled slightly as Sirius’s grip tightened. That wasn’t just gratitude — it was devotion, raw and aching. The kind of love that didn’t need fireworks or grand declarations because it was already woven into every moment, every memory.

And James? Sirius shook his head, a pang of frustration mixing with pity. James had spent years chasing the idea of love, blind to the fact that he already had it.

The final letter undid him.

December 12, 1975 I was thinking about you today, and how you’ve always been there for me — whether it was listening to me complain about the Beauxbatons professors or laughing with me when I’m in a bad mood. You’re always there, and I think that’s why I trust you more than anyone else. You’ll never know how much that means to me, Jamie.

Sirius closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. You didn’t just see James; you knew him. The real James — the boy who laughed too loudly, who lived for Quidditch, who couldn’t resist a good prank. You loved James, not the idealized version he tried to be for Lily or anyone else.

Sirius exhaled sharply, folding the letter with a reverence he didn’t usually bother with. His heart ached — not for himself, but for you, for James, for the years you’d both spent dancing around the truth.

“Merlin, you’re both idiots,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now. 

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further into disarray, his mind replaying what he’d just uncovered. The letters — those bloody letters — had been the key. Now everything fell into place: James’s barely-there smiles over the past few days, the way his gaze lingered when you entered the room, the softness in his laugh when you said something clever. James Potter, his brash, unrelenting, wildfire of a best friend, was utterly transformed around you.

Balanced. Grounded. Sincere.

It was unbearably obvious now, as if someone had pulled back the curtain.

And yet, the idiot still had Lily Evans’s picture on his bedside table in his dorm.

Sirius’s gaze fell on the stack of letters once more, neatly tied with a ribbons that seemed far too delicate for James’s usual chaos. He could have left it alone, let James figure things out in his own thick-headed way — but that wasn’t Sirius Black’s style. If there was one thing he’d learned from years of pranks, broken curfews, and bending the rules until they snapped, it was this: sometimes people needed a push, even if it stung a little.

Sirius exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, the letters still in hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, the look on James’s face when he confronted him — it would be priceless. Sirius wasn’t one for sentiment, but for you? For James? Maybe, just maybe, he’d make an exception.

The door creaked open, and James stumbled into the room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Sirius watched as his best friend all but collapsed into the armchair by the bookcase, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked like he’d been wrestling dragons all day — or, more likely, his dad’s endless list of chores.

But there was something else, too. A tension in his jaw, a restless energy that practically vibrated off him. Sirius could see it plain as day: James hadn’t seen her all day, and it was driving him mad. She was so close — just a staircase or two away — and yet untouchable.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Prongs, is this why you’ve been obsessing over the owl schedule for years? Didn’t peg you as the secret pen-pal type.”

James’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. They darted to the bed, where the stack of letters lay exposed, and then to the shelf where the box had clearly been moved. He froze for a second before letting out a long, resigned sigh.

“Pads,” James said, his voice low and uneven, heavy with an edge Sirius rarely heard. “It’s not cool to read someone else’s letters.”

The room seemed to still, the words settling into the air like dust, soft but laden with weight. James’s eyes — those unmistakable hazel orbs that always held a spark of mischief — were guarded now, a flicker of something raw and unspoken behind them.

Sirius leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face like the blade of a knife, sharp and unapologetic. “Not cool,” he echoed, his voice laced with mockery, “is keeping this from me for six bloody years. Care to explain, or should I guess?”

James flinched, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the soft knit of his jumper. He moved toward the bed with the slow, deliberate steps of someone walking a tightrope, balancing the fragile threads of anger and restraint. The dim light of the room cast long shadows over his frame, making him seem taller, older — more vulnerable.

He reached for one of the letters, his hand hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers curled around the parchment. His thumb brushed over the faded ink, tracing the loops of her handwriting like a blind man reading Braille. The edges of the letter were frayed, softened by years of touch, and as he lifted it to his face, Sirius caught the faintest smile tugging at James’s lips.

It was a small, private thing, that smile. Reverent. It wasn’t the boyish grin Sirius knew so well, the one James wielded like a weapon to charm or disarm. No, this was different — softer, as though the mere act of holding the letter in his hand brought James closer to something sacred.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He’d seen James in every possible state — triumphant on the Quidditch pitch, livid after a prank gone wrong, devastated when the world seemed too heavy — but this? This was new. This was James Potter unguarded.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Sirius said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

James didn’t look up. He sat on the edge of the bed, sorting the letters with a precision that bordered on ritual. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers careful not to smudge the ink or crease the paper. Sirius had never seen him handle anything with such care — not his broomstick, not his glasses, not even the Marauder’s Map.

“It’s not what you think,” James murmured, but the words lacked conviction, as though he knew they’d crumble under scrutiny.

Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated snort. “Not what I think? Mate, I think you’re in love with her and too much of an idiot to admit it. Am I wrong?”

James froze mid-motion, the ribbon he was tying slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move — just stared at the letters as if they might answer for him.

“She’s…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “She’s different, Pads. She’s… everything.”

There it was. The confession, raw and trembling in the space between them. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly. “She is. And that’s exactly why you’re a bloody idiot for pretending she’s not.”

James let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and fractured. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, his movements frenetic, as though he were trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharp but not cruel. “I’ve watched you for years, Prongs. You talk about Evans like she’s some kind of bloody trophy, but her? You look at her like she’s the air you breathe. Like without her, you’d suffocate. And you’re sitting here telling me it’s complicated?”

James’s laugh turned hollow, empty. “Lily’s… safe. She’s who I’m supposed to want. She’s not my bloody childhood best friend.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, he barked out a laugh, loud and biting.

“Safe?” he repeated, incredulous. “Since when have you ever played it safe, James Potter? Love’s not supposed to be safe. It’s messy, terrifying, and completely bloody worth it. Or are you seriously telling me you’d rather be ‘safe’ than happy?”

James looked up at him then, and Sirius’s breath caught. His best friend’s hazel eyes, usually so full of fire and mischief, were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think…” James’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Do you think she feels the same?”

Sirius’s grin returned, slow and wolfish. “Mate, judging by these letters? She’s just as much of an idiot in love as you are.”

For a moment, James didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughed — a shaky, unsteady sound that grew louder, freer, until it filled the room.

“What do I do?” James asked, his voice raw and trembling with vulnerability.

Sirius stood, crossing the room to clap a hand on James’s shoulder. “You start by telling her everything. No more hiding. No more pretending. You owe her — and yourself — more than that.”

James nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Sirius said, smirking. “I’m always right.”

As James reached for the letters, carefully tucking them back into their box, Sirius watched him with a rare sense of pride. This wasn’t just James Potter, the fearless Quidditch captain, the prankster extraordinaire. This was James Potter, a boy on the cusp of something extraordinary.

And for once, Sirius Black wasn’t just causing chaos — he was helping someone find their way through it.

THE SNOW OUTSIDE FELL IN HEAVY, DELIBERATE FLAKES, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A SOFT, UNBROKEN QUIET. Sirius stood on the second-floor landing of the Potter home, a mug of hot coffee cradled in his hands. The rich aroma mingled with the faint scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the decorated tree below. The whole house seemed to hum with a kind of warmth that Sirius rarely allowed himself to imagine, let alone experience.

From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the living room below. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting golden shadows across the walls. Mr. Potter sat on the sofa with an arm draped around Mrs. Potter, the two of them cocooned under a soft plaid blanket. A book rested on Fleamont’s lap as he read aloud, his voice low and steady. Euphemia’s head rested against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in serene contentment. Every so often, she’d smile at something he read or reach up to adjust her husband’s glasses, her touch so light and familiar it made Sirius’s chest ache with longing — not jealousy, but something softer. A wistfulness for this kind of unshakable bond.

But his gaze didn’t linger on the Potters for long. It drifted to the corner of the room, where the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights bathed two figures in a kaleidoscope of warm colors. You and James sat on the floor amidst the chaos of torn wrapping paper and open boxes. The morning’s gifts had already been exchanged, but it seemed James had saved something special for last.

Even from here, Sirius could see the faint nervousness in his best friend’s posture. James wasn’t one to fidget, yet his hands moved restlessly, smoothing invisible creases on his trousers, brushing imaginary dust from the tree skirt. His eyes, though, were unwavering as they watched you. You were cross-legged on the fluffy white rug, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder as you picked idly at a ribbon. Sirius noticed how your gaze lingered on James, curious and full of quiet affection.

James leaned closer, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable lilt of mischief. “One of the owls was late,” he said, holding up a slightly weathered envelope. The parchment looked a little worse for wear, its edges crumpled as if it had been handled too often. “It dropped this off this morning… asked me to give it to the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for the envelope. “Still using that line, are you, Potter?”

“Can you blame me? It’s worked wonders so far.” His grin was cocky, but Sirius saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he handed it over.

You rolled your eyes, but the way you bit your lip betrayed your own anticipation. Turning the envelope over in your hands, you ran your fingers along the black-inked scrawl of your name before carefully breaking the seal. Sirius leaned forward slightly, his coffee forgotten as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment the letter emerged, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes darted across the page, your expression softening with each word. Sirius could see the precise moment the meaning settled in — the way your lips parted in surprise, the way your shoulders tensed, then relaxed, as if letting the weight of something long unspoken sink in. James’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb moving in small, nervous circles.

“Love?” James’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away. He was watching you as though the world rested on your reaction, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. “You’re awfully quiet. Should I be worried? Say something. Anything.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, even as a tear slipped down your cheek, catching the light like a tiny diamond. James froze, his face paling slightly.

“Hey, hey, no…” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. If it’s rubbish, just say so and we can forget it. Burn it, even.” He laughed nervously, though it sounded forced. “I’ll… I’ll pretend it never happened.”

That’s when you looked up, meeting his gaze with eyes so full of emotion it made Sirius’s breath hitch even from across the room. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, cupping James’s face in your hands. He stilled under your touch, his wide-eyed surprise melting into something softer as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss Sirius might have teased him about — not fiery or impulsive. It was quiet, deliberate, and full of a tenderness that made Sirius feel like an intruder, even though he couldn’t look away. James’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though you might slip away if he let go.

Sirius smiled to himself, feeling a rare swell of pride. James had always been the heart of their little group, the one who wore his feelings openly. And now, here he was, finding a kind of love that Sirius knew would anchor him forever.

A sharp click shattered the moment, and both of you turned your heads to find Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, a wide grin plastered across his face as he waved a freshly developed photo in the air.

“Perfect!” he announced, shaking the picture. “This one’s going in the family album. And when my godchildren ask how their parents got together, I’ll tell them Uncle Sirius orchestrated the whole thing.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against James’s shoulder, while James groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re a menace, Pads,” he said, though his voice held no bite.

“A charming menace,” Sirius replied, retreating toward the couch where the elder Potters were watching the scene unfold with amused smiles.

“Everything alright, dear?” Euphemia asked, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced between you and James.

James nodded, his hand still firmly clasping yours. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potter’s smile widened, and she reached over to pat your hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Though, truth be told, you’ve always been part of it.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED IN A GOLDEN HAZE OF LAUGHTER AND WARMTH. Euphemia roped you into helping her in the kitchen, insisting you learn the secret to her mulled wine. Sirius watched from the doorway, sipping his coffee and grinning as you tried to follow her directions, only for James to sneak in and steal a taste from the pot, earning himself a playful swat on the arm.

By evening, the fire burned low, and the snow outside had blanketed the world in an even deeper hush. Sirius sat in his favorite armchair, a blanket draped over his legs as he watched the scene before him. You and James were curled up together on the rug, a cozy tangle of limbs as you whispered to each other, your laughter soft and unguarded. The Potters sat nearby, sharing quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

For a moment, Sirius closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the sounds of contentment wash over him. He thought of his own childhood Christmases — cold, sterile affairs devoid of joy. And then he thought of this… the home James had built, not just for himself but for everyone he cared about. It was the kind of love Sirius had always believed was out of reach. Until now.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs,” he murmured, raising his empty mug in a toast to his best friend.

James glanced up, catching his eye. “Merry Christmas, Pads,” he replied, his grin soft but unmistakably James.

James had turned to you, his hand cradling your cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm.

"Merry Christmas, love," James murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that made Sirius’s chest tighten.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," you replied, resting your forehead against his.

Sirius chuckled, settling back into his chair, the warmth of the moment settling deep in his bones. The world outside might be cold and uncertain, but here, in this house, surrounded by love and laughter, everything felt exactly as it should be.

He thought about how James Potter had once given him the home and warmth he never had. And now, it seemed, Sirius Black had helped his best friend find his way home, too.

FROM THE ARCHIVE OF SIRIUS BLACK:

To my future, undoubtedly brilliant, devilishly handsome, and wildly talented nephews,

Listen up, you little rascals. You don’t know me yet, but let me make one thing very clear: I’m the reason you even exist. That’s right, your ridiculously perfect Uncle Sirius is the mastermind behind it all. Without my charm, wit, and expert meddling, your parents might still be doing the whole "will-they-won't-they" nonsense.

So, when you’re out there ruling the world, remember to thank yours truly. The coolest, suavest, and most humble uncle you'll ever have — Sirius Black. You're welcome.

December 25, 1976 My Love,   It’s Christmas, and the house is quiet now, the soft hum of the tree lights the only sound. I’ve been sitting here for hours, staring at this parchment, trying to find words big enough for what I feel, but they don’t exist. Still, I need to try.   Love, I see it now—what I’ve been too blind to see all along. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, fearless even. But when it came to you, I was a coward. I didn’t want to risk losing you. You, who have been the brightest part of my life since the moment we met. You, who’ve filled every corner of my world with warmth and light, even when we were miles apart.   Every summer, when you stepped into my life again, it was like the sun breaking through a storm. You’d sit by the lake with that book you never quite finished because I was always distracting you. You’d laugh at my terrible jokes, your nose crinkling just so. And you’d hum when you thought no one was listening, always off-key but somehow more perfect than any melody I’ve ever heard.   I thought I was looking for the kind of love my parents have — their unshakable bond, the way they look at each other like the world begins and ends with them. And all this time, it was right here, under my nose. You were under my nose.   I think I was afraid, love. Afraid that if I let myself feel what’s always been there, I’d ruin us. That I’d lose the only person who’s ever truly known me, the only one who can look past the pranks, the bravado, and see me—the real me. But Sirius, being Sirius, knocked some sense into me. He said I’ve been acting like a fool, and for once, he’s right. Rereading our letters with him was like seeing my life laid out before me, and every line, every word pointed to you.   Even when you were far away, you were my everything. The letters you sent were more than ink on parchment; they were lifelines. When Hogwarts felt too big, too chaotic, you were the quiet in the storm. When I felt lost, you reminded me who I am. Do you know how many times I reread your words, just to feel close to you? I kept your letters in my trunk, hidden from the others like a secret treasure. Because that’s what you’ve always been — my treasure.   How could I have been so blind? How could I have wasted so much time thinking it was Lily I wanted when it’s always been you? I’ve spent so long chasing a dream when the real thing was right in front of me. I see it now, clearer than I’ve ever seen anything. You are my stars, my moon, my sun. You’re the laugh that makes everything brighter, the voice that feels like home.  

I love you. I love the way your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited. I love the way you argue with me over the silliest things just to see me smile. I love the way you hum when you’re nervous and how you always know exactly what to say to pull me out of my worst days. I love you.   I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I hope with everything in me that you do. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because having you in my life, even just as my friend, has been the greatest gift I could ever ask for. But if there’s even the smallest chance you might love me too, then I promise to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you.   Merry Christmas, my love. You’ve been my greatest gift every day since I met you.   Forever yours,   Jamie

thankx for reading <3

god, this is my biggest work and I was so afraid to publish it, cause it seems to me that no one reads such long fics (I myself adore long fics).

and if you've finished reading this, thank u and I love you so much! I hope you enjoyed every part of it and I will be very glad if you leave a comment, because it seems to me that I have left all of myself in this work!

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. btw my requests are open so… make a wish :3                                

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

[luvst4rc0r3]

SHE IS SO ADORABLE WHEN SHE IS MAD

Anyways here’s a Sevika x agegap!reader

WC:586

Okay, so Sevika genuinely has no idea how you two ended up together. Like, she’s the definition of calm, brooding, and calculated, while you’re… you. A hurricane of energy, chaos, and jokes that don’t even make sense half the time.

The first time you made a joke, Sevika just stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You were probably sitting at her usual spot in The Last Drop, grinning like a lunatic.

“Hey, Sev, why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Dead silence. She didn’t even look up from her drink.

“…Because he was outstanding in his field!”

Her only reaction was a slow exhale through her nose as she took another sip of her drink. She didn’t laugh, didn’t even acknowledge the joke. You pouted for a solid five minutes until she rolled her eyes and said, “It wasn’t funny.” But she was smirking a little, so you counted it as a win.

You make jokes constantly. Some are bad puns, others are absolutely unhinged, and Sevika doesn’t get any of them. You tried to explain sarcasm to her once, and it ended with you laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe while she just… stared at you in confused judgment.

“Why would you say something you don’t actually mean? That’s… dumb.”

“No, Sev, that’s the joke!”

“I think your brain is broken.”

She’ll never admit it, but she secretly finds your jokes endearing. Like, yeah, they don’t make sense, but the way your face lights up when you deliver the punchline? She could watch that forever.

You love poking at her stoicism just to see if you can get her to crack. One time, you randomly blurted out, “Hey, Sevika, do you think fish ever get thirsty?”

She looked at you like you’d lost your mind. “What?”

“Fish. Do they get thirsty? Like, how does that even work?”

Her hand immediately came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I am not doing this with you right now.”

But the thing is, no matter how chaotic or nonsensical you are, Sevika always has your back. She’ll grumble and call you reckless, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, she’s already rolling up her sleeves (or flexing her metal arm) like, “You got a problem?”

One time, someone actually laughed at your joke before Sevika did, and you milked it for weeks.

“See, Sev, they get my humor. Maybe I should just date them instead—”

“Don’t even joke about that.” She said it so seriously that you immediately shut up… before teasing her about being jealous five minutes later.

Despite her endless teasing, Sevika has soft moments where she shows she cares. You’ll be bouncing off the walls, rambling about some dumb idea you had, and she’ll just sit there, watching you with this look in her eyes. Like, yeah, you’re exhausting, but you’re her brand of exhausting.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, pulling you into her lap and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“But you love me,” you say, smirking.

“Unfortunately.” But she kisses your temple anyways

Let’s be real-Sevika doesn’t get your jokes, but she loves you. Your energy might drive her insane, but it’s also what makes her feel alive. And if that means putting up with your ridiculous puns and weird questions, so be it.

In the end, Sevika’s your grumpy rock, and you’re her chaotic sunshine. She’ll roll her eyes and sigh, but deep down, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m going to probably write a pt.2 to this

i want to be her age gap gf with too much energy that make jokes that r immature asf or that she doesn’t understand. like ik her ass would be making this face multiple times a day

she’s just too cute when she’s annoyed 😭

[steveslevis]

let’s make it cinematic!

azriel x OF!reader (modern au) - part 1 of ?

summary: azriel and his girl are looking for new ways to make ends meet when their friends suggest something that neither of them would’ve ever thought to try…something neither of them would’ve ever thought they’d enjoy so much.

warnings: drinking, smoking (weed-adjacent aka mirthroot), sex tapes/filming sexual acts, dom!azriel x sub!reader, smut!!! so much smut, fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, rough sex, degradation AND praise kinks, (light) choking, dirty talk, shadow play, size kink (simply bc az is HUGE), creampie (wrap it up yall!!!), az is a protective dom & king of aftercare, mentions of exhibitionism and a foursome

word count: 7.5k

a/n: it's FINALLY here!!!! shoutout to @bookishbishhh for the amazing idea, sorry this took forever...i hope everyone enjoys part 1 of who knows how many <333

Thick smoke hangs in the air around the apartment, the sound of laughter likely carrying through the entire complex as Azriel, Cassian and Rhys sit on the couch, talking about nothing in particular. 

It’s a weekly ritual at this point for them to get together on a Friday night, just three so-called brothers laughing about senseless stories and reminiscing on their years spent together while passing mirthroot and sharing a bottle of whiskey. This week was no different from any other, aside from the distance in Azriel’s hazel eyes as the other two laugh about something Cassian did at a party the weekend before. 

Rhys nudges the quiet male, offering him the lit mirthroot between his fingers to grab his attention. Azriel grunts in response, taking it before placing it between his lips and inhaling sharply. 

“What’s on your mind, brother?” Rhys questions. 

Azriel is hesitant to share, squeezing his eyes shut as he holds the smoke in for a moment. He knows Rhys specifically won’t understand his situation, considering he’s never had to deal with financial hardship in his life. But he knows there’s never been judgment from either of them when discussing money, so he pushes his hesitancy down despite the hollow feeling in his chest.

“Things have just been tough lately,” he sighs, finally exhaling the smoke he was holding in before passing the mirthroot to Cassian. “We have no fucking money and I hate that Y/N has to work pretty much any time she’s not studying or in class. She’s stuck at that damn restaurant every night until fucking midnight and I hate seeing her so exhausted every night but it’s not like she can just quit right now.”

There’s a beat of silence in the room as both Cassian and Rhys nod in understanding, before Cassian exhales his smoke and suggests something Azriel would’ve never expected.

“Have you thought about OnlyFaes?” 

“Shut the fuck up Cass–”

“I’m not fucking around!” Cassian interjects, “I mean, don’t get all shitty and possessive on me, but your girlfriend is hot as fuck, and horny as fuck might I add. So why not get paid to fuck her? Me and Nes have had the best time doing it.”

It was no secret that Nesta had her own OnlyFaes and that Cassian was featured on it more times than not, he loves showing her off on their page and showing everyone how hot his girl that nobody else will ever have a chance to touch is.

“You can’t be serious,” Azriel nearly snarls, shaking his head sharply, “I am not gonna even ask her to do that. Y/N would never.”

Rhys chuckles while pouring himself some more whiskey, making Azriel snap his gaze in that direction, “What?” he insists, eyes narrowed on Rhys, “What’s so funny about that?”

“I think you don’t know your girlfriend if you think she wouldn’t be willing to try that,” Rhys says smoothly with a smirk, “Considering all the times you’ve had an audience–accidentally or not–I think she might be more than okay with doing it on camera, as long as you’re the one doing it.”

Azriel’s jaw twitches at his words, mind racing with thoughts of how good you look when he fucks you, how he can’t get enough of the noises you make when you cum, how well it would probably do in a video. There’s conflicting voices in his mind, one telling him to never share you and one telling him that the two of you could be so successful and never have to worry about how you were gonna pay rent again.

“I mean, don’t you think it’s worth a shot, Az?” Cassian questions. “I think she’d be into it.”

As Azriel opens his mouth to reply, the sound of a key sliding into the front door lock stops him in his tracks. His shadows skitter towards the door and swirl around the handle, excited to greet their favorite person.

The door opens a moment later, and you’re on the other side looking exhausted from a long day of class and work. You give your boyfriend a weak smile, mumbling a quick hello to the other two males in the room while closing the door and throwing your bag down. You look up from where you throw your bag down and halfway frown, cursing yourself silently for forgetting that it’s Friday and you wouldn’t be able to spend the rest of the night cuddling in bed with Az. 

“Long night?” Cassian is the first to break the silence, furrowing his brow as he takes in your disheveled appearance. You nod and he grimaces sympathetically, holding up the bottle in his hand as he does. “Want a shot?” 

Azriel elbows Cassian roughly, shooting a glare in his direction before standing up to walk over to you. His eyes fall on you and you nearly melt, leaning into his grasp as he reaches for your cheek. Azriel’s large wings raise behind him, as if he’s trying to shield you from the two males on the couch behind him as he and his shadows greet you.

“Ignore him, I think he’s had too much mirthroot tonight and is going crazy.” he mumbles, stroking his thumb across your cheek, “did you have a good shift?”

You sigh before shaking your head, rolling your eyes at the thought of the draining night you just had. Working in Prythian’s finest dining room came with its perks, mainly being the somewhat generous tips, but that didn’t mean that people weren’t assholes to you throughout every single shift, and tonight was no different. 

You had gotten stuck waitressing for a large party of businessmen, who all decided it would be a great idea to flirt with you all night and make crude comments under their breath in your direction any time you passed their seats. So no, you hadn’t had a good shift at all.  

“Don’t really wanna talk about it,” you retort tiredly, frowning up at Azriel while reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m just gonna go to bed, I think. Don’t wanna bring down the fun.”

A frown crosses Azriel’s face for a moment but he nods, noting the darkness underneath your eyes as you stare up at him, “we’ll try not to be too loud and keep you up.”

The other males bid you goodnight from the couch as Azriel kisses your cheek gently. You give him a tired smile before trudging towards the bedroom. 

You shrug out of your black slacks and polo, changing into pajamas before curling up under the covers. It doesn’t take you more than five minutes to fall asleep, exhaustion raking over your whole body as soon as your head meets the pillow. 

________________________________________

The bed is empty and cold when you wake, making you frown at the absence of your favorite person. Before you can sulk too much, your phone buzzes from the bedside table. You turn over in the bed to grab for it, a small smile crossing your face as you read Azriel’s name on the screen. You look at the clock in the corner of the screen, realizing you slept in until 12:30 in the afternoon after utter exhaustion took you in the night before. There are three texts from the male, all over the last six hours. 

Azzy <3 - 6:15 am: Forgot to tell you that I was taking an extra shift at the shop this morning, I’ll be home around 1. Love you.

Azzy <3 - 8:52 am: Can’t wait to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed…wish I could’ve been there to wake you up the proper way this morning ;)

Azzy <3 - 12:28 pm: Don’t even know if you’re awake yet, but I’ll be home in less than five minutes. Finished up the car I was working on early, see you soon, love. 

You smile to yourself as you read his semi-formal texts. He’s never been keen on texting since he’d rather just call you, but he’s gotten more chatty over text since the two of you barely get to see each other when you’re busy with work and school all the time. You start to type a message in reply, but he’s true to his word and you hear the front door unlocking only four minutes after he sent his last text. 

You wait patiently in the bed, sitting up as you watch the bedroom door intently. It only takes a few seconds for him to open the door quietly, eyes widening in half-shock when he sees that you’re actually awake. You smile over at him sleepily, noting how his oil-stained coveralls are draped over his arm and his hands are surprisingly clean, as if he cleaned himself up before coming home. 

“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty.” he teases, striding over to your side of the bed to give you a quick kiss. 

“Hi,” you mumble tiredly, reaching up to cup his cheek gently. “Did you have a good morning?” 

He hums in agreement, quickly tossing his work clothes into their designated laundry basket before slipping under the covers next to you. You slide as close to him as possible, wrapping your arms around his waist while burying your face in his neck. Azriel’s arms snake around your shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you lay in comfortable silence, happy to sit in each other’s arms and enjoy the moment for a while. 

When you do finally pull away to look up at him, Azriel’s brow is furrowed and he’s staring at the opposite wall, deep in thought. You trail your hand along his chest to break him from his trance, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt to get his attention.

“What’s on your mind?” you question when he finally looks down at you. 

“Oh, just something Cass said last night,” he sighs, giving you a wry smile. You raise your brow at him, waiting for him to continue. “We were talking about how it’s been hard for us, with you being in school and working and with me having to pick up extra shifts at the shop. And–And he suggested a way for us to make more money. I was just thinking about it.”

“Well, what was it?” you urge. 

“He suggested that we try OnlyFaes.” he says bluntly, watching you intently to gauge your reaction. 

“O–Oh.” you say, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mull over his words. 

“Yeah, I–I thought it was insane at first.” he begins, shadows slithering around his wings as he looks at you with nervous eyes. “But then I got to thinking about it. Would it really be so bad? I–I mean, we already fuck all the time, and you’re insatiable as is,” he says with a small smirk, “What’s the difference between doing it alone versus in front of a camera? It’ll just be us still.”

Your mind races as you think about his suggestion. In all honesty, it seems less and less insane the more you think about it. You’ve heard of people making so much money on OnlyFaes, so what’s the real harm in it? 

Before you can come up with a reply, Azriel takes your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks gently.

“I don’t want you to say yes right now. I don’t want to force you to do something you’re not interested in, love.” he says quietly, searching your gaze for any signs of offense. “It might not be for us, we don’t even have to attempt it if you don’t feel comfortable with it. It’s just something to think about, okay?”

Something roils in your gut as he peers down at you lovingly, a strange feeling of lust mixed with sin. 

“Yeah–Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

________________________________________

Laughter and playful banter fill the living room of Nesta and Cassian’s apartment as you sit on the velvet couch with Nesta. She insisted you come over on your night off for a girl’s night, one filled with gossip, talk about all of your favorite smutty books, and plenty of wine. The conversation flowed naturally, and you eventually brought up the conversation you had with Azriel a few nights prior, the one you hadn’t been able to shake for the last few days. 

“Can you believe that?” you giggle, swirling the red liquid in your glass, “Az actually suggested that I should start an OnlyFaes. Me, of all people! Like I would make any money.”

Nesta smirks at you, shaking her head at your feigned outrage while sipping her own wine. 

“I can believe it, actually.” she retorts, making you stop dead in your tracks. “I know you could make plenty of money. I make plenty on there and I’m sure you could make even more than I do, especially if you let Az fuck you–”

“Wait, wait–” you interject, brow furrowed as you sit up abruptly as she speaks. “You do OnlyFaes?”

“Of course I do, you didn’t know?” Nesta says casually, raising an eyebrow as you stare at her wide-eyed. “Me and Cass are so horny that we’re on each other almost all the time, might as well make some money while we’re going at it, you know?”

“Are you fucking with me right now, Nes?” you question, unable to read her facial expression as she watches with amusement as you obsess over this revelation.

“No, Y/N. I’m not fucking with you.” she laughs dryly. 

“And–And you actually make money by doing this?” you continue, still skeptical.

Nesta nods, reaching for her phone, “Would me showing you my profile and my last payment from the site make you stop asking so many questions?”

You’re silent as you nod in reply, waiting impatiently as she pulls up the page on her phone. Nesta hands her phone to you, a small chuckle escaping her lips again as you go wide-eyed as you scroll. There were dozens of videos on her profile, some with Cassian, some with just her, along with countless photos of her in positions you truly weren’t sure were possible before seeing them with your own eyes. 

“Oh, quit blushing like a schoolgirl,” Nesta’s voice makes you jump as she leans over to you, pressing a few buttons on her phone as you hold it, “it’s not like you and Azriel are vanilla saints in the bedroom who just stick to missionary. I’ve seen the two of you fuck before, remember?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble under your breath, blush deepening as you recall the time Cassian and Nesta walked in on Azriel fucking you ruthlessly into the couch of their old shared apartment and didn’t stop once he noticed them. 

“Uh huh, I’m sure you don’t,” she retorts, clicking one final button on her phone before letting go, revealing her last paycheck from the account, “Here’s the proof that I actually make some money.”

Some money was the understatement of the century if you were being honest. Last week alone Nesta had made $1200, and $1400 the week before, and some weeks she made up to $2000. The thought of making that much money in a month, let alone one week, was something you never thought you’d be able to do. 

“I really think you should go for it,” Nesta urges genuinely as she watches you stare in wonder at her paychecks, “I think you’ll enjoy this a hell of a lot more than your shitty ass waitressing job.”

“Yeah–Yeah, I probably would,” you say sheepishly, handing the phone back to her as your mind races with the possibilities. “I’ll think about it.”

________________________________________

Perched on top of the kitchen counter, you admire the shirtless male in front of you as he finishes preparing a simple dinner for the two of you. It’s not uncommon for Azriel to make dinner, as you’re usually too tired to think about making anything by the time you get home from work. He plates the pasta with tomato sauce, adding some cheese on top before pouring two glasses of your favorite–but cheap–red wine. 

Azriel tending to you–in any manner–is truly your favorite sight, the way he makes sure you’re always happy and cared for always makes your heart sing, and your core ache. 

You take in every inch of him as he focuses on the glasses in front of him, eyes trailing from his half-wet hair from taking a shower a few minutes ago, down to his bare chest, over his tattooed shoulders to his muscular back and the wings–gods, those wings–between his shoulder blades. The bat-like wings behind him always make you damn near feral, loving the way they flare and twitch when you touch them, the way they make the already large Illyrian male seem even larger and more intimidating than he already is. 

“Dinner, my love.” he says, finally breaking you from your trance as he turns to face you. Your cheeks are flushed red when he turns to you and he smirks, knowing he just caught you staring. 

Before he can make any playful jabs at you for gawking, you let what’s been on your chest for the last day finally come out. 

“I wanna do it.” you start, looking at him with fire and lust in your gaze. 

“I mean, you always wanna do it–” he teases casually as he slides the plates onto the small table in between the kitchen and living room, “but can’t that wait? You need to eat, sweetheart.”

“No, no.” you shake your head at him, brow furrowing in frustration as you’re unsure how to word your next sentence. But fuck it, you’re just gonna say it, “I wanna try OnlyFaes.” 

“Oh,” he says and you swear his voice drops an octave when he speaks, “you wanna do that, huh?”

He moves in one quick stride to stand between your spread thighs, trapping you on the countertop by bracketing his large hands on either side of you. You peer up at him with wide eyes, nodding wordlessly as his shadows flicker around the two of you. 

“Are you sure?” he questions, his hazel eyes going dark as his mind races to impossibly inappropriate places. 

“Yes,” you say confidently, reaching one hand up to tug through his dark hair, “I want you to fuck me on camera, Az. Wanna show the world how good I can be for you, Sir.” 

The tension in the air is palpable as you draw out that last word, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes as he towers over you.

“I told you not to call me that unless you can handle finishing what you’re starting,” he nearly growls, hands coming up to grip your hips tightly, “and right now, you need to eat, not start this teasing shit.”

You hum in response, a glint of mischief in your eyes as your hand trails from his hair and down to the back of his neck, pulling him down and into a passionate kiss. He groans against your mouth, pressing your body against his by tugging your ass to the edge of the counter and making you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“What if I’m not hungry and I wanna finish what I’m starting?” you tease, angling your hips up to meet his, only the thin fabric of your underwear and his sweatpants between you two, as you’re only wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of underwear.

Azriel doesn’t have time to make any remarks before you pull him back in for another searing kiss. He keeps his lips on yours as one hand finds its way between your thighs, making you whine against his lips as his fingers hover over your core. Your hips buck into his hand as his index finger swirls over your clothed clit, making him groan as you nearly melt under his touch. 

“Gods, thinking about me fucking you in front of a camera turns you on this much?” he teases, kissing down the side of your neck as you nod enthusiastically at him. He only chuckles and pushes the cloth of your panties to the side, slipping a thick finger into you without warning. “Such a good little whore for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Az.” you nearly plead, continuing to nod as he pumps the finger in and out a few more times before adding another. “I’m your little slut, wanna show everyone how good you make me feel.”

He hums in approval as you grind against his fingers, which drive into you quickly as you grip onto his shoulders to keep balance on the counter. His shadows travel beneath his shirt that you’re wearing, teasing your nipples as he focuses on your dripping cunt and swollen clit. You’re almost completely lost in the pleasure, that familiar knot forming in your stomach at a rapid pace while you whimper against his neck. 

Just as you’re about to reach that sweet release, all stimulation from the male and his shadows stops, his hands back against the counter as he leans in to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek. You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing as if you’re a fish out of water as you look at him in disbelief. 

“You need to eat and you’re not cumming until you do.” he says in a warning tone against your cheek before pulling away completely, motioning for you to follow him to the dining table after he smooths down your shirt and places your underwear back over your core. 

“Az,” you plead, trudging along behind the male towards the table, “what if I told you that I ate a little bit, like, two hours ago?” 

The male turns to look at you with narrowed eyes as he sits at the table, he definitely doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. 

“Some asshole asked for a salad and then sent it back at least five times because none of them were right, so Omar let me have one of the remakes because of all the trouble the ass put me through,” you explain, ignoring the chair Azriel pulled out for you to sit in, opting to shift onto your knees in front of the male, “I’m not even hungry.”

That was a lie, you were hungry, but only for him. 

He stares down at you, his face showing only cool composure as you crawl a bit closer to him on your knees, hands coming up to rest on his thighs as you sit between them. There’s a noticeable tent in his sweats in front of you, which you eye hungrily as one hand comes up to palm it through the thin fabric. You hesitate for a moment as he looks down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes, but continue when he doesn’t stop you. 

It only takes one tug on the waistband of his sweats to free his large cock, letting it spring back in front of your face before grabbing the length. You’ll honestly never get used to how big it is, how your hand barely reaches around the entire girth when you stroke it, how it fills you up to the brim every time it’s in your mouth or in your cunt. 

You stare up at him as he leans back in the chair, trying to keep his composure as you reach to kitten-lick and kiss the red, angry tip of his cock before attempting to take it into your mouth. He grunts as the tip hits the back of your warm throat, your tongue sliding over the underside as you fist the rest of his length that you can’t fit into your mouth. He looks down at you then, noticing the way your free hand snakes between your thighs and you rut your hips against your palm, desperately trying anything to cure the ache that he left between your thighs. 

It’s then that he decides he’s not hungry–for anything except for you–anymore.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Azriel whimpers finally, tugging at your hair to pull you off his length. You look up to him with a furrowed brow, glassy eyes and a frown, disappointed in his denial. “You’re such a little needy cockslut, aren’t you?”

Before you can reply, you’re tugged from the ground and thrown over the male’s shoulder, making you squeal in surprise. He pushes the chair out of his way before turning on his heels to walk towards your shared bedroom.

“C’mon, love.” he murmurs as he kisses the outside of your upper thigh that’s nearest to his head, “let’s go practice for the camera.”

________________________________________

In all honesty, you never thought the two of you would actually follow through with this, but here you are, kneeling on your bed in the apartment you share with Azriel, wearing a new white silk slip over a matching lace thong while he sets up the camera facing where you’re sitting on the bed. 

“Are you sure about this?” Azriel asks for probably the fifth time in the last ten minutes, searching your gaze for any signs of doubt before he turns the camera on.

“Az, I’m fine.” you assure him once more, pushing your nerves down as you stare at your beautiful boyfriend from across the room. “Now let’s get this shit started before I’m not horny anymore.”

He raises a brow at you and chuckles, toying with the buttons on the camera you borrowed from Nesta once more.

“Ready?”

You nod, watching Azriel closely as he clicks the button to turn the video on. 

“Sit up straight and look pretty for me, sweetheart.” he says while taking a step towards the bed, “wanna see how beautiful you look before you get all fucked out on my cock, even though I love how cute you look then, too.”

You’re amazed at how quickly he switches into his usual sultry and serious tone, you immediately obey his command by straightening out your back, peering up at him through your lashes. You’re glad he’s acting like he normally does in the bedroom and is trying to make it seem as though it’s just the two of you as much as possible, like he’d promised the night before. 

He takes another swift step and he’s at the foot of the bed, thigh brushing against your knee as he presses against the mattress. Your eyes rove over his body, taking in his bare, sculpted chest littered with swirling tattoos, his wings flared behind his shoulders, the silver chain adorning his neck, his black boxers hiding his best assets, all making your heart–and core–flutter. He reaches for your chin, gripping it lightly to force your gaze to meet his lust-filled eyes. He smirks down at you, taking in every inch of you.

“Hi love,” he nearly purrs, one hand falling to the strap of your slip, toying with the silk between his thumb and pointer finger, “I like this little outfit, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Sir.” you respond sweetly, fighting the urge to reach up and pull his lips down to yours by pressing your palms firmly against your bare thighs.

“Such a sweet girl,” he coos, fingers trailing through your hair towards the nape of your neck, tugging at the locks to make you whine. “You’ve been such a good girl for me, sitting pretty while you wait for me to set up. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Your eyes light up at his words, nodding quickly as he chuckles at your enthusiasm. At this point, you’ve almost forgotten about the camera pointing at you, your brain nearly turned to mush just because of Azriel’s sweet yet domineering demeanor, just like you always do when he takes control.

“What kind of reward do you want tonight, love?” he says, watching you fidget excitedly under his touch.

“Wanna cum for you, Sir.” you say shyly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you stare up at him, “Wanna cum on your fingers, a–and your cock.”

“So greedy,” he teases, one hand roaming toward the swell of your breasts, “But since you’ve been such a patient girl for me, I think I can make that work.”

You nod excitedly in response, grinning as Azriel leans down to pull your lips into a swift kiss. He pulls away as quickly as he pulled you in, moving to sit behind you on the bed instead of standing in front of you. He situates you between his spread legs, adjusting to where you’re leaning against his chest with your knees bent and your thighs spread, putting you on full display.

He makes quick work of exploring your body, one hand kneading your right breast while the other pushes the hem of your slip up. You crane your neck to look up at him, a pout forming on your lips to silently beg for a kiss. Azriel obliges, releasing your breast to grip your neck, squeezing slightly as he pulls you in for a kiss. 

His other hand continues to roam along your spread thighs, massaging the soft skin with touches teasingly close to your core. You whine into the kiss, canting your hips against his hand to gain more friction as he teases you. His fingers brush against your clit once before pulling the lace thong down your legs to throw it on the ground, exposing your glistening core to him and the camera. 

“Gods, you’re so wet.” he mutters against your cheek, one finger sliding into your heat with ease as you whine. “That’s it, such a good girl.”

Your head falls against his shoulder as you bite back a moan and snap your eyes shut, grinding your hips against his hand as he slowly pumps the digit in and out. His hand squeezes your throat then, a low disapproving growl falling from his lips making your eyes fly open to look up at him.

“Eyes on me, baby.” he warns, thumb reaching up to circle your clit as he adds a second finger, your mouth falling open in a silent whine as he does. “And don’t bite back those moans, I wanna hear you.”

You nod up at him with wide, glassy eyes as his fingers increase in speed, making a crude noise as they drive into your dripping cunt. Azriel groans above you, cock hardening against your back as you squirm and moan. His fingers are unforgiving, allowing you no time to adjust as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He looks away from you for only a moment, taking the chance to look at the two of you in the viewfinder next to the camera. The screen shows you sprawled out in front of him, staring up at him with glassy eyes as his shadows swirl around your waist and arms to keep you firmly against him. You look so fucked out already, desperate for more as his fingers pound into you. 

“Look at you,” he chuckles, turning back to actually look down at you, eyes trailing along your form. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly, a moan falling from your lips as you grip his large thigh, squeezing it firmly to keep yourself in place. 

“Already so fucked out that you can’t even speak, huh?” he teases while tightening his grip on your throat to elicit a squeak of pleasure from your lips. “I haven’t even given you my cock yet, and you’re already a dumb little cockslut?”

“Y–Yes, yes, yes” you whimper, the words nearly a chant on your lips as you feel that familiar warmth winding up at your core. “I’m your dumb little cockslut, Sir. Just–Just wanna be your good girl and–and cum for you.”

It always amazes Azriel how easily you fall under a spell when he touches you, how easily you trust him with your pleasure like this. He smirks down at you, but can’t hide the adoration shining in his eyes as kisses your cheek gently, a stark contrast to his rough fingers in your heat and his skittering shadows holding you in place.

“So good for me, sweetheart.” he mumbles against your skin, nodding at you. “Go ahead, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”

His words are your undoing, making you fall apart almost instantly. Your body shakes as you cum, and you feel nothing but white hot pleasure as he continues his assault on your core. You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears as you tighten around his fingers, but you know Azriel is murmuring words of praise in your ear as he watches you writhe under his touch. He doesn’t relent when you come down from your high, fingers still pumping into you while his thumb circles your clit as you attempt to squirm away from him, but fail as his hand on your throat along with his shadows hold you in place. 

“P–Please, I–I can’t.” you cry out, eyes wide as you plead with the male and twist in his arms. “I–I wanna cum on your cock now, n–not your fingers, Sir. Please.”

Azriel smirks as you beg, but finally slows his fingers to a halt and releases your throat. 

“Since you were so good for me, I guess I can give you what you want.” he teases, repositioning you to sit in the middle of the bed once more, kneeling behind you this time. He kisses your shoulder as he tugs his boxers off, pulling at the silk strap of your slip. “Why don’t you take this off for me, sweet girl.” 

You nod mindlessly as your eyes wander towards the viewfinder, remembering that you’re not exactly alone in this scenario. A deep blush spreads across your cheek as you pull the slip over your head, catching a glimpse of your bare body on the screen. 

“So sexy,” you hear Azriel rasp out behind you, bringing you back to reality as he reaches for your hips, pushing your knees apart as he kneels between yours and presses your ass against his painfully hard cock. “You want my cock now, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” you plead, craning your neck to look back at him again. 

He hums in approval as he kisses up your neck, stopping at your ear. His breath fans against your skin as his teeth graze your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine as you wait for his instruction.

“Go ahead and bend over for me,” he orders, watching you with lust-filled eyes as you bend at the waist, pressing your chest to the bed with your ass still pressed against his cock. 

Azriel’s shadows flick out then, tugging your hands to bind them behind your back, leaving you defenseless against the male behind you. He lets out a low groan as he takes you in, one hand kneading the fat of your ass as the other fists his length, teasing it between your folds slowly. You whine in response, craning your neck to look up at him with wide, needy eyes. The sight behind you is enough to make you fold immediately, enough to make you bend at any whim that he has. He’s staring at his cock with heavy-lidded eyes, arm and chest muscles flexed as he holds back the urge to slam into you right then. His wings droop slightly, but you can’t help but notice the way they twitch as his hips roll against yours. A moment later, he looks forward to meet your gaze, silently searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation, but finding none. 

“You gonna be a good girl and take what I give you?” he questions, raising a brow at you as your hips rock back against his once, twice.

“Yes, Sir.” you reply quickly, eager to see how he wants you. 

“Good girl.” he nearly purrs, voice low as he finally slams into you, cock filling you to the brim as you let out a small moan. “Fuck, always so tight.”

Azriel’s vice grip on your hips is the only thing holding you up as he fills you to the hilt, tip rubbing against your cervix with brutal force when he bottoms out. You can only cry out and take what he gives you as he picks up speed, just like he wanted. He smirks down at you, mind spinning as he takes you in; takes in how your ass bounces against his hips with each thrust, how your bound fists squeeze tightly behind your back, how your eyes brim with tears as you cry out in pleasure as he pounds into you.

“Gods, it feels like your cunt was made for my cock,” he remarks, squeezing his eyes shut to push off a premature orgasm. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you? You love being at my mercy and going dumb on my dick, don’t you?” 

“Yes, yes, I–I love it!” you nearly yell followed by a string of moans falling from your lips as a rogue shadow snakes around to toy with your clit. “F–Fuck, you’re so big, s–so full.”

“I know, sweetheart. You’re taking it so well, though.” he praises, continuing his punishing pace. “I know you can give me another orgasm, wanna see you fall apart on my cock.”

“I–I’m already close, Sir.” you admit, blushing as you peer back at him. “N–Need to cum, please.”

“That’s okay, baby.” he says gently, slamming his hips into you again as he slaps your ass lightly once. “You can do it, you can cum for me, baby.” he urges while his shadows press into your clit even more, “Cum on my cock, make a mess on my cock and I’ll reward you with my cum.”

The thought of him cumming in you spurs you on more than it should and before you know it, you’re cumming on his length, walls spasming around him feverishly as you cry out. Azriel curses under his breath as you do, only moments before he reaches his own climax, release coating your heat as his hips falter. 

You swear you almost black out as you come down from your high, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations flooding your body as Azriel slows behind you. Once he stills, you relax, a small whimper falling from your lips as his shadows retreat from your body and your hands fall to your side once more as the rest of your body relaxes. You don’t know how long the two of you stay there, and barely notice Azriel pulling out of you and sliding off the bed, quickly moving to turn the camera off before returning to your side. He sits down next to you, peering down at you lovingly as you blink at him slowly. 

“Hi, love.” he says gently, reaching over to push your hair out of your face.

“Hi, Az.” you reply tiredly, rolling over onto your side once you’ve caught your breath.

“You did so good for me, baby.” he coos before turning to the bedside table to grab the glass of water and washcloth he’d set out before you began earlier. “Take a drink for me.” 

You sit up slowly, taking the glass to take a long sip as Azriel runs the washcloth over you legs and core, cleaning the slick from your thighs. Your heart flutters as he takes care of you, falling more and more in love with the male with every second he spends focused on you. He looks up as you finish off the glass of water, taking it from your hand before kissing your forehead lovingly. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, genuine concern shining in his eyes, trying to decide if he missed any signs of your discomfort during the scene. 

“I’m great, Az.” you say with a veritable smile, cupping his cheek to pull him in for a quick kiss. “That was amazing, you’re amazing.”

You swear you see a blush pass across his cheeks at your compliment, a smile gracing his lips as he nods at you. “How about you get changed into something comfortable while I order us some Thai takeout, yeah? We can eat on the couch and watch your favorite movie, and I’ll even give you a massage if you want.” he suggests, leaning down to kiss you again. 

Your eyes light up at his suggestion, giggling happily at him, “You always spoil me,” you reply against his lips. 

“Only because you always deserve it.”

________________________________________

It took you a few days to get the courage to finally post the video to your page, but you finally did. Nesta convinced you that she would help you edit the video. She even went as far as offering to ‘shout you out’ on her page, which entailed you posing with her in a pair of skimpy lingerie to post on her feed. Azriel wasn’t happy about that at first, but didn’t try to stop you from doing it, knowing it would only boost your page and get more engagement for your video thanks to Nesta’s established following. 

You posted the video three days ago and essentially avoided opening the OnlyFaes app after that, scared to see the results of your scandalous endeavor. 

So, when you returned from your evening class, you didn’t expect to find Nesta and Cassian lounging on your couch with Azriel, seemingly celebrating something with a bottle of champagne. 

“There she is!” Cassian cheers when you walk in, grinning widely at you while reaching for a glass of champagne to hand to you. 

“What’s this for?” you question, hesitantly taking the glass as you take the seat on the couch next to Azriel, who leans over to press a kiss to your forehead in greeting.

“We’re celebrating,” Azriel murmurs against your skin, a half-amused smirk on his lips as he looks down at you when you furrow your brow, “Celebrating our success. The champagne was entirely Cassian’s idea.”

“Your video was a hit,” Cassian laughs, wiggling his eyebrows at you mischievously. “We just wanted to come say congrats.”

“Oh, it was?” you say, eyes widening as you reach for your phone quickly. 

“It seems everyone loved both you and Azriel.” Nesta interjects, watching you with a smirk as you navigate to your OnlyFaes app. 

You quickly open the app, noticing how the Notifications tab has a red bubble above it that says 99+ before clicking on your profile. Last time you checked, you only had one subscriber–Nesta’s account–and now you have over two thousand. You scroll down to the video, clicking on the thumbnail. The sight of 302,000 views makes your eyes widen once more, wondering how you missed all of the notifications from the apparently semi-viral video. Before exiting out of the video, the amount of comments catch your eye, urging you to scroll to see them.

faebae12: GODS he’s soooooo hot…and the way he looks at her!!! I need a male like this in my life.

daycourtbabygirl: his mouth is so fucking dirty and she’s SO sexy i need more of them ASAP

biggestwingspan9: came so fast. need someone to go dumb on my cock like this 

subslut1000: what i would give to be between them…so fucking good

sizequeen75: ohhhh my gods his cock is so big i need to be tied down with shadows and fucked like that

The sound of laughter finally pulls you from your trance as you sort through the endless comments talking about how much they love the two of you, you finally look up to see Nesta and Cassian staring at you expectantly. 

“I–I really didn’t expect this to happen.” you say sheepishly, blushing deeply as they continue to stare you down. 

“You need to have more faith in yourself,” Nesta chides, raising a brow at you, “This is just the beginning, and you’re already doing so well. You were so hot.”

“You–You actually watched it?” you stammer.

“Of course I did,” she chuckles, and Cassian nods next to her while elbowing Azriel encouragingly. “I think you look like a great time, and who knows, maybe we could collaborate someday when you’re more comfortable. I would love to do some more dom work alongside these two,”

Cassian smirks at Nesta in agreement and you expect Azriel to tense beside you, but he doesn’t. You look to him then, and he smirks down at you as well before kissing your cheek. 

“What do you think, love?” Azriel says, raising a brow at you, “Should we keep doing this and see where it takes us?” 

Your mind races as you take in the whole situation, letting the fact that you were actually successful with this escapade finally settle in. A smile crosses your face then, core heating at the thought of continuing to let Azriel fuck you on camera. It sounds insane, but you truly don’t care anymore, especially since you both enjoyed it so fucking much.

“Yeah.” you say with a wide grin, “Yeah, I think we should keep going.”

tag list (add yourself here!): @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace @feyretopia @mad-hatters-lover @kissesfromnovalie @mulledwinetea @saltedcoffeescotch @mrsjna @chillymountsjess @azriels-human @messageforthesmallestman @delphinefour04 @kbear8863 @secretsicanthideanymore @randomgurl2326 @shushsstuff @caitm1 @eeniemeenie

[trustmypoison]

SVT when you come home drunk

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Heyyyyy can you do svt reaction when y/n didn’t tell them that they are gonna come home late then they came home drunk or smth like that, if that is okayyy’

TW/CW: mentions of drinking and being drunk

Bottles up his reaction for the morning (or maybe tomorrow afternoon) - Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Woozi, Seungkwan

He might feel a flash of frustration when you drag into the house, clearly having had more than just a couple of drinks. Steadies you with gentle hands to ask how you got home. I hope it was through trusted means because if it wasn’t a friend that drove you home, you should have called him. Gently helps you get ready for bed and tucks you in, but he’s mostly silent. When your hangover subsides in the morning, he’ll raise an eyebrow at you and ask if you’re ready for the lecture that he’s been writing in his head all night. It’s all with love because he just pictured the worst-case scenario. 

Mildly entertained as long as you’re feeling good - Joshua, Jun, Mingyu, Minghao, Vernon

Sort of chuckles when you stumble into the house with a giggle. “Someone had fun,” he’ll say lightly before ushering you to get ready for bed. Exceedingly patient as you clumsily try to help him, to the point that he’s more worried about keeping you on your feet sometimes. Will curl up next to you in bed and rub your back, asking if you had a good time. Lets you ramble yourself to sleep because he thinks it’s cute when you’re a sweet drunk. 

Be prepared to never hear the end of the teasing he has for you - Jeonghan, Hoshi, DK, Chan

Straight-up snorts when you struggle to get inside. “Who are you? I don’t remember you leaving like that?” Will watch you struggle with shoes and your coat and make a snack with a highly entertained look. But the moment you might do something that could accidentally hurt you, he’s stepping in with gentle hands. “Okay, time for bed.” The glazed look you give him when he cleans off your makeup makes him snicker to himself. Like the previous group, will curl up with you in bed and let you drunkenly ramble to him. He’ll pat your head and say, “I know, honey.” Trust that it’s all so adoring, but you’ll surely hear about it tomorrow. (And there may be a video or two in a group chat so it lives on forever.)

[sleepynagii]

𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐍 ────── NAGI SEISHIRO.

IN WICH you were a young woman and by that time, your opinion was just nonsense to your own father who had practically sold you out to who you thought was your childhood best friend, Seishiro Nagi. Nagi claimed to be a pacifist, but little did you believe that when ahead of your parents he bought your hand in marriage, and unfortunately you had no opinion at all.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒. arranged marriage. childhood friend!Nagi. friends to lovers (I think) past/former times. the reader is reo's sister. fluff. eventual angst and soft. nagi is bad at expressing his feelings but is just a fool in love. nsfw/smut. squírting. overstimulation. size kink. Nagi has big brēeding kink. public sex. smut on the honeymoon.

(I was inspired by those times of the old west and cowboys, I think, so it doesn't follow the japanese culture.)

✴　english is not my mother tongue, sorry if there are spelling mistakes or if any part is incomprehensible.

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈, 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄. Human emotions, their nuances, and the intensity of the feelings he seemed to provoke in others were a constant mystery. Now, as he watched you from a distance—your gaze avoiding his and your posture clearly defensive—he couldn’t understand why you were angry with him.

He tried, if only a little, to find a clue, a spark of clarity to tell him what he had done wrong. After all, he was the one who had saved you from a fate he thought far worse. Wasn’t that enough? What could be worse than falling into the hands of a stranger? You were with him, someone who had been part of your life since you were a child. Shouldn’t that bring you comfort?

Nagi let out a soft sigh, his thoughts drifting back to the past, to a time when he was nothing more than an insignificant boy—the son of a humble worker on the fields your family owned. Or, more precisely, the fields that belonged to your father, an imposing man who ruled his vast property with unquestionable authority.

Back then, he was no one, just another boy carrying sacks of wheat and tending the land you inherited by right. But he had known you forever, from those afternoons when he saw you running through the fields, carefree and unburdened. Now, however, the distance between you was vast—not just in words but in emotions.

The question lingered in his mind, striking him with a force he couldn’t ignore: Why were you so upset with him? He had done what he thought was right, acting with what he believed was your best interest at heart. But as he looked at you now, so distant, he began to doubt. Had he been wrong to think that saving you was enough?

Nagi lowered his gaze, uneasy, as you kept your distance, as if every step toward him was a step toward an abyss you weren’t willing to cross. He had been part of your past, but at that moment, it seemed he had no place in your present. And that, though he didn’t fully understand it, hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When he was a child, he had met Reo by sheer coincidence, and it was all thanks to you. In a way, he believed you had saved him first.

That sunny day, your dress swayed in rhythm with the refreshing breeze, carrying the scent of the valley’s lush vegetation and the crops before you. Your steps echoed against the wooden terrace floor. He always watched you from afar, without ulterior motives, though he knew how bad it might sound for someone to observe you silently without approaching. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but seek you out, watching as you stood on that terrace for hours, contemplating the landscape as if searching for something the world couldn’t give you.

He never saw you there when the others were working in the fields. Perhaps you stayed away out of respect, not wanting to interrupt, or maybe you simply enjoyed being alone, losing yourself in your thoughts as the day passed. He never had dark thoughts about you, but there was something about your presence that drew him in, something that made him want to approach you, even if only for a moment.

Finally, that day, he summoned the courage. His steps were slow and cautious, his worn boots crunching against the dry soil as he approached the steps where you were sitting. There he was: that thin boy with a white shirt stained with dirt and sweat, his sunburned cheeks speckled with dry dust. He smelled of damp earth and strawberries, a peculiar mix that, somehow, wasn’t unpleasant.

Strawberries.

In his calloused, trembling hands, he held a small basket. The fruit glistened under the sunlight, its vibrant red standing out against his dirt-streaked fingers. He stopped in front of you, inhaling deeply to steady his uneven breaths.

“Would you like…?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with nervousness. He held the basket tightly, as if fearing you might reject it.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes drifting to the strawberries before meeting his again. There was something in his calm expression—a mix of shyness and hope—that made you lower your guard.

“I just washed them,” he added hastily, as if it was an important detail, and extended the basket toward you.

Without further hesitation, you reached out, picked one of the strawberries, and brought it to your lips. The sweetness exploded in your mouth, juicy and vibrant, making you close your eyes for a moment to savor the flavor.

When you opened them again, you noticed the faint smile that had appeared on his face, as if seeing you accept his small gesture had made all his effort worthwhile.

But that smile vanished as quickly as it came when you abruptly stood up from the step and extended your hand toward him. Startled, he instinctively recoiled, lowering his head as though bracing for a blow. But the impact never came.

Instead, all he did was watch as you took another strawberry from the basket and ate it slowly, observing him with a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“I… I thought you were going to hit me or…” he stammered, his voice trembling between the words.

You cut him off before he could finish.

“Why?”

“Uh?”

“Why would I hit you?”

He hesitated at your question. His slightly parted lips seemed to search for an answer, while his eyes, once dull and drowsy, now appeared more awake, though filled with confusion.

“Because that’s what masters do… when I try to be nice,” he finally replied, tilting his head with innocence, as though what he said was normal, something that didn’t require further explanation. But the relief in his face didn’t match the pain you felt upon hearing his words.

“They think I’m overstepping,” he continued, unaware of how your features tightened with a mix of surprise and what could only be described as pain. His voice was calm, almost resigned, as if he were repeating something instilled in him too many times.

“People like us aren’t supposed to be near people like you. We’re not at your level. That’s what they say.”

“Who says that?” you asked abruptly, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

The revelation left you stunned. His tone was so casual, so devoid of malice, that it struck you deeply. You had never heard anything like it before, much less in connection to your family. How could those words, spoken so naturally by a child, be true?

You had grown up believing in a home where kindness and equality were fundamental values. You had never seen that side of your family—or at least not in front of you. But now, his words planted an uncomfortable doubt, one you couldn’t ignore.

You looked at the boy. His wide, sincere eyes, incapable of grasping the weight of what he was saying, sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t seem to understand the gravity of his words, how they painted a reality you had never considered.

And you were left with a question you couldn’t answer: Why not believe him?

“I would never hit someone, even if they were ‘beneath’ me…” you said firmly, clenching your hand into a fist. Your eyebrows furrowed, and your expression turned grave as you trembled slightly, trying to process your emotions. Your other hand, resting by your side, also showed signs of tension.

“I would never become that kind of person. Not even if you’re just another worker for my family… that’s not how I was raised,” you murmured, averting your gaze to your feet, lost in thought, as those words continued to hammer away at your mind.

Seishiro watched you in complete silence, processing what you had just said. A warm sensation bubbled inside him, mixed with something resembling guilt. He wondered if he had hurt you by saying what he did. It had been a mistake, and now he regretted breaking the relaxed atmosphere you had shared. He liked seeing you happy, with those little strawberry stains on the corners of your lips.

«If only I had kept my mouth shut...» he thought, silently cursing himself.

With a serious expression, you reached into the pocket of your dress and pulled out a handkerchief, extending it toward him with determination. Seishiro looked at you hesitantly, unsure of what to do, but you didn’t have the patience to wait. Stepping aside, you dipped the handkerchief in the water from a glass you had brought, still untouched, and then leaned closer to him.

Before he could react, you brought the damp cloth to his face, carefully wiping away the dried dirt on his cheeks. The unexpected contact left him breathless, especially when your faces were only inches apart. When you moved the cloth to his forehead, the cool water soothed the burning heat that had been tormenting him.

As you worked to clean his face, the usual hardness in your expression softened, and your warm, close breath brushed against his. Seishiro could barely process what he was feeling; his cheeks grew hotter than they already were, and it wasn’t because of the sun.

“Don’t go out under the sun without a hat, especially when you’re this dehydrated,” you said in a stern but concerned tone. Your words, though firm, carried a sweetness, a genuine tenderness that completely disarmed him.

“My father placed water fountains everywhere for a reason. Next time I see you in this state, I’ll throw you into one of them. I don’t want you passing out from heatstroke.”

Your eyes looked at him sincerely, and he could hardly meet your gaze. Your words echoed in his mind, not because of the scolding, but because of the care embedded in every one of them. And as you stepped away, Seishiro couldn’t help but feel that, at that moment, there was something more refreshing than water: your presence.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the incessant beating of his heart, so strong he felt it resonating in his back, making his body tremble slightly. He clenched his fist, and the dampness of the handkerchief in his hand brought him back to reality. He lowered his gaze to the piece of cloth and noticed the hand-stitched details. The threads were twisted, the patterns somewhat uneven, but they still formed delicate flowers: orchids.

Purple orchids. He recalled what he knew about flowers, thanks to his father and the gardens he used to tend. Those flowers represented royalty, elegance, sophistication. A perfect symbol for someone like you. Purple was a color reserved for the highest status, and those flowers seemed to be an extension of your world, one to which he had never belonged.

His fingers gently traced the embroidered details as he sighed, lost in the memory of your face so close to his, the way you had cared for him. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you walking away, entering the main building. He watched as you headed toward the “storeroom,” as the employees called it, where your father had his office and other rooms.

Without thinking too much, Seishiro ran after you. His feet thudded against the ground, first dirt and then marble, as he crossed the grand white entrance. Everything around him was immaculate: the floors gleamed, the decorations exuded luxury, and every detail spoke of a world to which he did not belong. He searched for you with his eyes but saw you descending the stairs at the end of the white hallway.

He hurried, determined to return the handkerchief to you. But before he could reach you, his body collided with that of another boy.

The impact was sudden, but his reaction was quick. With an agile movement, he extended his foot to stop a ball that had gone flying after the collision. He balanced it with his heel and, with his other hand, caught the handkerchief before it hit the ground. It all happened in an instant.

The other boy, with purple hair, stared at him wide-eyed, utterly astonished by the feat.

“That was awesome...!” the boy murmured, amazed. He quickly descended the stairs and threw an arm around Seishiro’s shoulders with infectious enthusiasm.

“You’ve got incredible reflexes!” he exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up his face.

Seishiro watched him silently, his expression neutral and slightly confused.

“What’s your name? I’m Reo Mikage.”

“Seishiro Nagi...” he replied after a pause.

“Do you play soccer? From now on, we’ll play together, you and me,” Reo said, his grin so wide it seemed to brighten the entire room.

Seishiro blinked, bewildered. He was still processing the boy’s words when he remembered something: you. He lowered his gaze to the handkerchief still in his hand, and when he raised it again, you were gone. His face tightened with a mix of disappointment and resignation.

That day had been important. He had taken the first step to talk to you, to get closer to you. But at the same time, that day he also met Reo, who turned out to be your brother. And while that meeting marked the beginning of something new, a part of him couldn’t help but regret that you had disappeared from his sight.

That day remained etched in his memory as a turning point, an invisible thread connecting his past to his present. From then on, he never saw you again. Not at the estate, not at the Mikage mansion. Seishiro quickly became friends with Reo, and it was he who, after a few days, casually mentioned that you were gone. By your father’s orders, you had been sent to an exclusive all-girls’ school. That had been your last day in the village and in your home.

Reo also mentioned that you had argued with your parents before leaving. You had been gone for hours, but before you left, you confronted your father. You told him about what that boy had endured, revealing a reality he had been completely unaware of. That conversation had sparked a change. Thanks to you, your father took action. Seishiro’s father no longer worked in the fields under the scorching sun and the abuses of other employees. He was rewarded with a more dignified position within the estate, far from the harshness of his previous environment.

The life of Seishiro also changed drastically.

He went from living in a humble home with dirt floors to one with gleaming marble floors and smooth, white walls. For the first time, he didn’t have to endure harsh weather or the weight of a life marked by extreme poverty.

Although he felt gratitude, there was something overwhelming about it all. And then Reo, with his characteristic lack of filter, spilled the truth: everything Seishiro and his father had achieved was thanks to you. Reo told him, with a mocking glint in his eyes, about the letters you had regularly sent to your father. In those letters, filled with concern, you asked for details about how Seishiro was doing and demanded improvements to his quality of life. You insisted that he be given a proper home on the estate, the same education as Reo, and that he not be treated as inferior.

But you had also made one thing clear in your letters: everything had to remain a secret. You didn’t want Seishiro to know about your involvement. Perhaps you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or preferred that he believe all of it was the result of his own destiny and efforts. However, Reo, being who he was, revealed it all with a teasing laugh, more for the pleasure of embarrassing you than out of malice.

For Seishiro, the revelation was disconcerting. He remembered your determined gaze that day, the way you gently wiped his face, and the concerned words you hid behind a firm tone. You had been a fleeting presence in his life, but your influence had been immense, leaving marks he was only beginning to understand.

And now, here you were, in the present—a reality that, at this moment, was painful to witness, to see you like this, with him.

“Why did you do this to me...?”

Your voice cracked into a barely audible murmur, suffocated as though your lungs were struggling to find air. The trembling of your body made the light dress you wore cling to your tear-soaked skin. You were sitting on the edge of the large canopy bed, half-covered by the sheer curtains surrounding the structure. The contrast between the opulence of the furniture and the devastation in your chest was overwhelming.

You sobbed silently, but your gasping, strained, and desperate breaths broke the heavy air of the room. Hot tears fell, tracing uneven paths down your cheeks and soaking the fine fabric of your dress. You covered your mouth with one hand, as though it could contain the intensity of your cries, but nothing could silence the harrowing echo that resonated in the room.

“I wanted to protect you...”

His voice, deep but broken, shattered the silence. Seishiro stood there, just a few steps from the bed, his shoulders weighed down by guilt. But your tear-filled eyes pierced through him like daggers.

“You didn’t protect me—you destroyed me. Everything I fought for years was ruined because of you!”

Your tone lashed at him, forcing him to step back, though he tried to maintain his composure. You ignored his attempt at sounding gentle, as if those words could mend the damage.

“My dreams... everything I wanted since I was a child is gone! For a damn marriage I never even asked for!”

Seishiro’s face darkened even more. His hands trembled as he kept them clenched into fists. Each of your words was like a dagger sinking deeper and deeper into his chest. He didn’t regret intervening, but that didn’t ease the pain of seeing you like this—broken—because, in the end, it was all due to his decision.

The night he overheard the obese man, the one who always stood beside your father at parties, changed everything. He recognized the guttural, repulsive laugh of the bearded man who always followed your father like a shadow. What he overheard froze him. Wandering through the dark hallways of the mansion, trying to escape the commotion, the man’s words stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ll accuse her. I’ll say she tried to seduce me. I have the proof.”

The man’s tone dripped with malice, as though reveling in the vileness of his plan. He said that very night, before you left for the girls' boarding school exactly seven years ago—hours before you met Seishiro Nagi for the first time—he would tell your father, in front of the council, that at only twelve years old, you acted like an adult and tried to throw yourself into his arms with lust.

All to force you into marriage, a filthy maneuver to gain access to your family’s power and influence. Worse, he had fabricated “evidence” to back his lies, all to blackmail your family into forming an alliance through marriage.

Seishiro remembered the profound disgust he felt, a nausea that nearly made him vomit on the spot. You—the person who couldn’t harm an ant for fear it might have a family waiting for it—were the target of that despicable man. And he couldn’t let it happen.

He withdrew from the scene without confronting the man, his stomach churning and his chest full of rage. He, who had always avoided conflict, wanted to pummel that man until he couldn’t speak again. But he couldn’t risk the monster’s plan proceeding.

Days passed, and his attitude toward you changed. He tried to spend more time with you, speak to you with an unusual warmth for him, but all of it had a purpose. He didn’t know how to tell you, how to prepare you for what was to come. He made efforts to stay close to you, organizing outings that confused you. You knew he was lazy and not inclined to take such initiatives, but you didn’t understand the reasons behind his change.

And then, one night, as you were chatting in your room, a maid knocked on the door.

“Your father requests your presence in the parlor, miss.”

Seishiro was tense. His eyes, usually indifferent, darkened with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. You descended the stairs with a tight chest, glancing nervously at his impassive face. Upon arriving, your parents were there, their expressions severe and unreadable.

“What’s going on?” you asked, looking at Seishiro.

He stepped forward with a calmness that only heightened your unease.

“We had an affair.”

The words struck like thunder. The air left your lungs, and for an instant, everything seemed to freeze. You stared at him in disbelief, searching for any sign that he was joking, that those words weren’t real.

“That’s a lie!” you murmured, but your voice lacked strength.

Your parents, rigid, looked at him with disbelief. And then Seishiro delivered the final blow:

“She’s expecting a baby. My baby.”

“Dad, that’s not true!” you shouted louder, your desperate cries echoing through the grand parlor as your chest began heaving uncontrollably. “That’s not true—I’m your daughter. I would never do something like that.”

He spoke with a firmness that left you frozen. Your father clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his composure. The word “my” reverberated with a possessiveness that seemed to sink you even deeper.

“Mr. Mikage,” Seishiro continued, never breaking eye contact with your father. “I know what we did is unacceptable. I understand your anger, and I’m willing to accept any punishment. But I want to make amends and protect your honor and your daughter’s. That’s why... I’m asking for her hand in marriage.”

His voice trembled slightly, but his stance remained firm. Inside, his heart was in pieces. He was doing it for you, he repeated to himself over and over. It was all for you, even if it meant you would hate him forever.

“I want to take care of your daughter,” he continued, addressing your father. His voice trembled slightly, as though guilt threatened to surface. “I’ll love her as she deserves. I’ll do whatever it takes to repair this mistake and protect her honor—and our child’s.”

Seishiro spoke with the conviction of a man ready to sacrifice everything. And he did it for you. But to you, in that moment, all you felt was betrayal.

« I do this because I want to protect you, » the silver-haired man thought as he kissed your father’s and mother’s hands with respect. Seishiro could feel your intense, resentful gaze burning into his back as he bowed to your father. He gained nothing from this arrangement—he cared nothing for the connections or wealth your family would bestow upon him once you were bound in marriage. Yet, if breaking the bond of trust the two of you had built since the day you came into his life was the price to pay, he would do it a thousand times over before seeing you with an older man.

Someone who might be twice your age and likely to take advantage of your vulnerability. But in the end, Seishiro didn't need to try to win your heart—he already had you in the palm of his hand. After seven years of only seeing your face in photographs and feeling your presence through the words preserved in letters hidden in some drawer of his room, he finally had you near.

Now, he could have you for himself, and he knew that with his presence, the one thing you wouldn’t lack was the fulfillment of those dreams you had fought so hard for—dreams that had been so difficult simply because you were born a woman.

Seishiro promised to give you the world you had been denied by the blinding grasp of your parents, who were shackled by prejudice and societal opinions. You would not be a mere plaything, nor just a wife confined to the house, tending to children with no aspirations beyond that limit. You would be his, caring for his children while living in the world he vowed never to take from you—a freedom as boundless as a bird’s wings. Just as you had when the two of you ran through the valleys, carefree and unburdened by thoughts of what the future might hold.

[hueseok]

hello, @tatzzz-25 ! i’ll be replying to your comment through this long post which will also be directed to anyone who's curious about this unfinished draft’s ending hehehe

okay so i wasn’t really planning to answer this because like i said, this draft will be forever unfinished and y’all are going to be left hanging with me (hehe) — but i actually do have an idea with how this fic is supposed to go from where i left it, it’s just that it really is over the place.

it was supposed to be something like this (i’m going to say sorry in advance if what you’re about to read is jumbled because like i said THAT IS WHY I WAS UNABLE TO FINISH THIS VERSION OF IT WAS ALWAYS YOU LMAO):

ben does come to the city where jk and oc is. he meets jk and from the get-go, it’s obvious that ben and oc are like… complete opposites. i’m not sure if i’ve mentioned it explicitly on the unfinished fic but jk and oc are both like adrenaline junkies so seeing oc with ben who is very timid and passive sets jk off because it’s like “what the hell did she see in this guy???”

anyways, jk tries to piss / annoy oc more by suggesting that they all spend quality time together as a way for him to know ben. he specifically suggests that they go to this rock climbing place nearby because oc loves rock climbing and it’s her favorite hobby. the three of them do end up going and this whole sequence is just basically jk being “we’re a better match than you and ben because we love rock climbing” or still being like “what the FUCK does she see in this guy?????” because ben is the cliché good guy who’s too nice and all that (but!! there is a moment wherein ben does show that he’s being kinda mad too at jk’s behavior bc jk really be showing how much he knows oc and it’s obvious that he still likes her)

after those two scenes… i honestly didn’t have any solid ideas anymore aside from jk eventually thinking that maybe a guy like ben is what oc needs the more he sees them together (like oc needs someone more stable or more mature etc.). this prompts him to be kinda less stubborn about the whole divorce thing yet still kinda bitter at the same time. ben, on the other hand, sees the genuine connection between jk and oc, which makes him question oc one time if she’s sure that there isn’t any left feelings for her supposed to be ex-husband but oc always denies it and blah blah blah

as we get closer to the conclusion of the story, these are the scenes that i have originally thought about:

jk tells oc that he’ll sign the divorce papers after he graduates from the fighter weapons school

oc is relieved but has mixed feelings about it

jk graduates and oc attends the after party something of the graduation with ben. there jk hands her the signed divorce papers, also telling her that he’s getting deployed tomorrow for an emergency situation so that night might be the last night they’ll see each other (this scene makes it clear that jk’s mission will be dangerous so oc will get worried)

oc and ben will return to their shared hotel room. oc will not be able to sleep because of worrying about jk and she’ll have a realization that she really can’t afford to lose him. 

she talks to ben about it who already foresaw this situation, but instead of being mad or what, he encourages her to “follow her heart”

ANYWAYS, oc goes to jk to confront him. they have a huge confrontational scene wherein they admit they still love each other—they do the deed, reconcile, and ending scene is jk tearing the divorce papers????

yup. that’s basically it AHAHAHAHAHA

also, a little bonus. i also had a draft for a “no ben version” wherein no other love interest is involved and it’s literally the same ending but supposed to have some kind of epilogue at the end but evidently, past athena no longer had the time to even finish outlining sksks:

it was always you (from the vault)

originally titled: take my breath away.

a.k.a. the original draft for my “it was always you” fic wherein naval aviator!jungkook is your cocky soon-to-be-ex-husband who won’t sign your divorce papers because he’s still in love with you lol.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.5k

content: fluff, semi-angst, exes to ??? | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + husband!jungkook

warning: what you’re about to read (if you do choose to read this) is an unfinished work which perhaps will forever be unfinished.

the only reason i’m posting it because i feel like it’d be a waste to let it rot in my drafts considering that i really liked how it went until the moment i stopped writing hehehehe. i’ve also thought about continuing this story but since i already have an existing naval aviator!jungkook in my masterlist, i felt like it’d be redundant to post this!

anyhow, since a lot of you showed so much love to “it was always you”, i thought it’d be nice to share this 🥹

You really hoped that flying for almost three hours and experiencing horrid turbulence during half of the trip was going to be worth it. But again, that was only the first part of the whole charade; the real challenge would begin perhaps much later, when you finally come face to face with the person that you were scheduled to meet.

As you walked inside the bar, the nerves that previously weren’t there started to crawl from your chest to your legs, making it harder to reach the counter where a vacant bar stool stood. You didn’t even know why you were suddenly nervous—although you could only guess that the sudden burst of anxiety was rooted from talking again to the most stubborn man ever to walk on earth—and you were already preparing yourself for the long conversation you were going to have with him and possibly the extended leave you’ll have to inform your boss for this trip because of his infamous stubbornness.

“____?” a familiar voice abruptly called out for you after you finished ordering a mug of beer from the barmaid, “no fucking way. It can’t be.”

You turned to your left and saw Jung Hoseok.

Spoiler: he wasn’t the person you were going to meet today, which made seeing him such a delight. You grinned immediately upon making eye contact, hopping out of your chair and exclaiming his name with the same enthusiasm he let out when he did realize it was you who he was looking at.

“Holy shit. What are you doing here?” He automatically engulfed you in a tight embrace when you initiated. You noticed that he was wearing an off duty attire, a plain black polo shirt and blue jeans, his hair kept neat and short. “Actually, scratch that—there’s only one person you should be here for.”

You bothered to smile. “Yeah. I’m guessing he didn’t tell anyone I’m visiting, huh?”

“Nope. He 100% kept it a secret because he knows that we’re going to steal you away if he spills.”

“We?” you mused. You didn’t even know that he was training with Hoseok, and now you’re discovering that Hoseok’s apparently not the only friend he has here. “How many of you that I know are training with him?”

Hoseok takes a short pause to think about it. “Hm… well, there’s me, then Yoongi and… Namjoon. That’s just about it.”

“Wow. It’s essentially the whole group again, huh?”

“Yup. I mean, we are the best of the best.” He smirked.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“And we’ve missed you,” he added swiftly. “I’m a bit mad that your husband didn’t inform us that you’d be here—but again, I’m not surprised.”

“Sorry. I think I have myself to blame for that. I did tell him that I don’t intend to stay here for too long.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just here to make sure he signs the divorce papers.”

Hoseok nodded, thoughtful and a bit disappointed. “Is he giving you a hard time with them?”

“You can say that.” A dramatic sigh escaped you. “He insisted that if I really wanted to get his signature, I should just go here where he’s training.”

“Classic Jungkook.” He laughed, and you agreed with a snort.

He was right, this was all a Classic Jungkook move. 

Sometimes, you didn’t understand why you agreed to marry Jungkook so urgently when he asked for your hand, even after knowing that he did everything he could to ensure that he got what he wanted in the end.

Though that was just that thing, wasn’t it? He knew exactly what to do in order to get what he wanted—and at that time of his proposal, you knew it was you that he sought for.

Despite the fact that Jungkook had only been seeing you for less than a year, he was convinced that you were the love of his life. It was the reason why when he needed to be deployed for a mission, it seemed proposing was the most natural thing to do, going on about how he wanted to be reassured that when he came back for you, you were going to be there waiting for him, not only as a girlfriend, but as his wife.

And you said yes, without missing a beat, because you genuinely loved Jungkook and for you, the both of you were a match made in heaven.

By the two year mark of being a wedded couple though, just being in love with each other wasn’t enough. There were a lot of arguments, irreconcilable differences, a lot of moments wherein you wanted to abandon everything and just disappear—until you finally declared that enough was enough and you were going to file for divorce.

Of course, Jungkook didn’t want to sign them, but he did grant you a little bit of your freedom back. He did so by leaving your shared apartment on a random Thursday, only sending a text that said he was being called by the Navy for a mission he couldn’t disclose per usual, and that if you really wanted to divorce him, you’d just have to wait for him to go back.

He never returned though. Because after that mission, came a next one, and another one, until you heard that he was invited to a naval fighter weapons school in the northern part of the country, close to the seas and where he’ll be training for a few weeks among the best naval aviators in the nation. 

That’s when he decided to invite you over and say that if you wanted his signature, you’d have to be the one who’ll go to him. You initially contemplated for a long time before just going forth with his ridiculous demand. Nonetheless, you figured you were once again left with no choice because here you were now, doing exactly what he wanted to get what you exactly wanted as well.

God, who knew that contrary to how easy it was to enter this marriage, it was an absolute pain to get out of it?

“Do you know where he might be?” you asked Hoseok while taking a sip of your beer. “Or if he’s going here at least?”

“I have no clue,” Hoseok said. “Though I do know that he should have free time. We don’t have training for the rest of the day.”

“I’ll be seriously pissed if he stands me up.”

“He won’t.”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re ____,” he said it like it was reason enough, “and Jungkook can’t resist seeing you. Especially if it’s been what? How many months have passed since you two saw each other?”

You held up six fingers, continuing to gulp down your drink in frustration. “Still, he loves to annoy the shit out of me.”

“It’s his love language.”

“Oh, I’ve been made very aware.”

Hoseok barked out a laugh. He was a huge fan of your dynamic with Jungkook; he was practically there throughout the whole journey of your relationship. As Jungkook’s weapon systems officer, the both of them were thick as thieves, which also made him the best man of the wedding—so deep inside, he wanted to believe that whatever it was that you and Jungkook were dealing with, it would be resolved soon enough.

“Well, it looks like you don’t have to wait for too long.” Hoseok toasted his glass to the direction of the entrance where the Jeon Jungkook entered, removing his aviator sunglasses and hooking it on the collar of his white shirt, worn inside a dark blue long-sleeved polo he was sporting as well.

You followed his line of vision and scowled at the sight of Jungkook. Not because you hated your husband, but because even when in the middle of finalizing a divorce, you couldn’t deny that he was too handsome for his own good.

“I think this is my cue to leave,” Hoseok added, getting off his seat. “It was nice seeing you again, ___. Let’s catch up later, yeah? I’ll conspire with Joon and Yoongi to steal you away.” He smiled mischievously and gave you a sweet chaste kiss on the cheek before walking over to Jungkook, greeting him, pointing to where you were, and then walking to another table where you guessed a bunch of other naval aviators were hanging out.

A sigh escaped you, just in time when Jungkook met your gaze.

He grinned—actually grinned—and you had to prevent your eyes from twitching to not look like some crazy person who didn’t have any self-control. So, instead of plastering the same scowl a few seconds ago for him to see, you flashed a sarcastic smile, waving your hand.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Jungkook claimed when he was close enough, marching towards you, appearing like he was going to go for a kiss but before he could, you outstretched an arm and stopped him by literally wrapping your fingers around his neck as if you were planning to choke him to death with the gesture (which you were tempted to do).

He rolled his eyes, holding your wrist and bringing it down.

“Can’t I give you a kiss?” he retorted.

“No.”

“And Hoseok can?”

“Hoseok’s my friend.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Ex-husband.”

“Wrong. I haven’t signed any divorce papers, honey, so in the eyes of the law, I’m still very much your husband.” He quickly stole a kiss on the corner of your mouth and you allowed yourself to grimace in annoyance, glaring at him as he took Hoseok’s previous seat.

You watched him order a drink for himself and nachos for sharing. You didn’t say anything while he did all that; you just stared at him, analyzing him, trying to decipher what was going on in that head of his. You honestly had no clue what his thought process was in depriving you of the signature you wanted and then randomly agreeing to meet you again, accompanied with the condition that you’re the one who has to go to him and not the other way around.

As he reasoned, he was still in the middle of training, and he couldn’t just leave even if he wanted to and that’s why you had to make the effort to make this work (he made it clear that he didn’t want to make the effort anyway if it meant it could lead to his and yours divorce).

“How are you?” he asked once he was done ordering and you scoffed.

“Let’s not do that, Jungkook.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me that I’m not allowed to know how you’re doing too.”

“I meant the small talk. Let’s just cut to the chase.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Jungkook.”

“Alright.” He placed an arm against the counter, spinning his stool to face you. “You already know where I stand, though. I still haven’t changed my mind in wanting to work it out first.”

“What? But you told me that if I went here—”

“I would talk to you, not sign the papers,” he finished. “You didn’t really think I’d sign them just like that, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

There goes assuming that the three-hour flight to go here would be worth it.

“I did, actually.” You grumbled. “When are you giving this a rest?”

He seemed annoyed by the rhetoric question. “When are you going to stop thinking that divorce is the answer to our problem?”

��We already did couple’s therapy and that proved to be a waste of time.”

“That’s because you were stubborn and wouldn’t cooperate.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s stubborn between the both of us? I’m the one who wouldn’t cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m not!” You raised your hands up. “You were the one who always said some lame excuse to not attend it with me.”

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you, my schedule isn’t—”

“Yeah, whatever.” You didn’t let him finish, knowing that he was going to say something about how being in the Navy didn’t grant him the free time you were expecting him to have.

“I’m just saying… you can’t keep on doing this, you know?” you said.

“Can’t keep doing what?”

“Prolonging this. We already broke up, Jungkook. There’s not point in staying married.”

“That’s the thing, though.” He smirked. “I can keep prolonging it.”

Your nostrils flared. “Why?”

“Because I can.”

You think flashes of red were beginning to blur your vision.

Jungkook noticed the rage building up, yet he didn’t back down. “Why are you even so eager to legally separate? Do you plan on getting married again soon?” he asked.

It was supposed to be a joke, because Jungkook didn’t actually think you were seeing anyone at the moment—but at the mention of it, he saw the manner in which your expression slightly shifted, and he narrowed his eyes at you, understanding. “Don’t bullshit me. You aren’t seeing anyone, right?”

You blinked, acting all innocent. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is. You’re still married to me.”

“We’ve broken up for almost a year now, Jungkook.” You groaned, remaining him once again. “If you just signed the goddamn papers, all of this would be out of your hands.”

He scoffed. “You are seeing someone?”

“That is not the point of our conversation.”

“Well, it’s a significant aspect of it.”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I am seeing someone. Happy?”

Jungkook was in fact not happy. He was angry, but then he thought of how he shouldn’t be, because you and him have broken up for almost a year now like you said. Even though he wasn’t in support of that notion, he remembered at least granting you enough freedom to feel like you could date around without thinking about how you were technically cheating on him if ever you did. 

However, he didn’t really think you would find someone. Sure, you were beautiful, you had an amazing personality, there was no question when it came to you attracting men, yet you could be picky most of the time. It was even a miracle how he managed to bag you; though he guessed that he didn’t really have to try that hard in the first place before because the two of you just had so much in common for you to ignore.

“What’s his name?” he asked after a long silence.

You crossed your arms. “Do you have to know?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “It’s Ben.”

Jungkook thought the name sounded stupid. “How long have you been dating him?”

You hesitated, already predicting how he was going to react that you almost exaggerated the answer, but decided against it last minute. “Five weeks.”

He suddenly burst out laughing, the sound echoing inside the bar; it was the exact type of response you were positive he was going to do, proof that you knew him too well and that you shouldn’t have changed your pretense in the first place.

“It’s not funny,” you hissed, noticing that a lot of people were glancing at where you were both situated. “What the hell is funny about what I said?”

“You want to divorce me for a guy you’ve been dating for five weeks?” He carried on snickering; he barely got the whole sentence out because he was too busy catching his breath.

“Of course not! I would just prefer it if I don’t have any baggage left before attempting to commit to another relationship.”

The barmaid came back with Jungkook’s beer and nachos. He thanked her and slid the basket of cheesy nachos to your direction, an offer that you could get a piece if you wanted. However you were neither hungry nor interested in getting anything from him that would elicit a thank you from you, too prideful at this point due to how annoying he was being.

“What does he do for a living?” he asked next.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to make fun of it.”

“Is it worth making fun of?”

“No.”

“Then just tell me.” He threw a chip inside his mouth. 

You pressed your lips together. “He’s a bank clerk.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh this time, but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he grinned, and you found yourself refraining from wanting to strangle him again, questioning why you thought it was a good idea to come here since it was obvious that talking to him properly was an impossible task.

“You’re dating a bank clerk?” he posed the question like it was the most preposterous thing he had heard from you today. “What the hell do the both of you have in common?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have you know that Ben is a very nice guy.”

“That’s what ladies say when a man is horrible in bed.”

“That’s not true.”

“Is he good then?”

“That’s none of your business, Jungkook,” you uttered once more, teeth gritting. “Besides, it’s only been five weeks.”

He smirked. “That’s a no then. It seems that you haven’t slept with him,” he said. “Makes sense. I mean, if you have already slept with another guy, you might be already begging me to get back together. Given that I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “How the fuck are you always so arrogant?”

“It comes with the praise I usually get during my escapades, babe.” Jungkook winked at you, hand reaching out for another nacho.

“Oh, so I’m assuming you do have sex with other people now. You know, if you’ve just divorced me, you can go live your happy single life again to go to that without any worries.”

“I don’t sleep with other people—”

“But you just said—”

“I meant before I met you.” He pointed out, giving you a look. “Why are you even thinking about that? Are you jealous?”

“God, you’re fucking impossible.” You practically growled. 

He flashed you another smirk, amused.

“Anyhow,” you began, bringing out the divorce papers from your bag that you should have given him the second you saw him, but as what you think was part of his plan, he did manage to stall you in doing so, “here’s the papers.” You shoved it to his chest, rendering Jungkook no choice but to grab it.

He glanced down at them. “You’re never going to stop until I sign these, huh?”

You nodded. “Never.”

“Fine.” Jungkook flickered his gaze on you. “I’ll sign them.”

You glared at him. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“Are you?”

You were still suspicious, but at the same time, you had high hopes.

“Yes. But I need to meet Ben the bank clerk first.”

Your spirits dropped. “Oh, no, no, no,” you made a huge cross sign with your arms, “you are not giving me another condition just to go against your word in the end.”

“I won’t this time.”

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed loudly.

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at you. “I’m serious. You want my signature or not?”

You bit the insides of your cheeks, gazing at him.

You were no fool, you knew why he wanted to meet him; you knew that it was because he wanted to see it for himself if the guy you replaced him for was actually more good looking than him or at least appeared as if he could survive a fistfight if Jungkook prompted to start one. It was all testosterone and ego, and you contemplated cutting his balls just to get this over with once and for all.

Surely, by then, he would be more agreeable.

“Fine,” you told him. “If you meet him, you’ll sign the papers? Promise?”

He took a sip of his beer, shrugging. “Sure.”

***

Jungkook watched the scene unfold in front of him with an amused expression.

Although he did admit it once that he did get a bit jealous whenever you gave the other guys more attention than him, he loved his best pals too much to care.

It was why he allowed instances like this to happen wherein you made it apparent that you valued their company much more than you did Jungkook. It was evident in the manner in which you laughed loudly as Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon hugged you, each one of them taking turns in lifting your body off the ground a few seconds in glee.

You were seen as a beloved sister to them as they saw Jungkook as a cherished brother in the Navy.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jungkook reckoned after five seconds.

Namjoon glanced at him, the last one to embrace you. “Jealous?” he teased, reading his mind.

“I am, actually.” Jungkook affirmed. “You three got a better greeting than I did.”

You rolled your eyes at the pettiness of his comment. “That’s because there’s nothing good about seeing you again, Jungkook.”

Jungkook glanced at you. “You wound me, babe.” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “Truly, you do.”

The guys stifled a laugh.

Today’s agenda was supposed to be a catch up session with the three guys. News spread quickly yesterday that you were in town thanks to Hoseok, and given that the three of them were good friends of yours, you didn’t decline the offer when Jungkook informed you that they wanted to meet you while you were here.

So, as the next day came in and the evening rolled, they met up with you at the same resto-bar Hoseok found you in. It did seem like the only venue that was both near enough from the academy and the hotel you were staying at that offered adequate food. You observed that the occupants of the place were composed primarily of people wearing naval aviator uniforms or motorcyclists stopping by before going forth with their ride.

“So,” Yoongi began just as Jungkook headed to the counter, volunteering to relay all of your orders to the barmaid, “we heard from a little birdie that you’re seeing someone else.”

You gave him a look. “Still a big gossip, I see.”

“Oh, it’s not counted as gossip if it’s what Jungkook’s been complaining about the whole time at the showers,” Namjoon humored.

Hoseok agreed with a nod. “It’s what he’s been nonstop yapping about earlier when we were flying,” he said. “Seriously, ____. Release the boy from misery and just get back together.”

They watched you grimace. “You all know my relationship with Jungkook has been long complicated for it to be as easy as that.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Namjoon asked.

“No, of course not.” You scoffed. “He’s an annoying shit for the most part but he’s not a cheater.”

He physically relaxed at the confirmation. “Good, because I don’t think I can beat him in a fistfight.”

Yoongi chuckled. “What’s the matter then? You still haven’t spared us any details on why you’re so keen to divorce him.”

“There’s no particular reason,” you sighed with a throw of your hand. “It’s just a compilation of the small things. He’s away most of the time, I’m away most of the time when he’s available—we fight a lot, argue a lot, it just doesn’t seem to be worth fighting for anymore.”

“So, you don’t love him anymore?”

“I…” you trailed, abruptly feeling like you were being interrogated, “I mean, love doesn’t go away easily. And it hasn’t been that long since we called it quits.”

The three men shared a look among themselves.

You straighten your posture. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What does?” Hoseok queried.

“That look you guys just gave each other. I don’t like it.”

“That’s just their faces, babe,” Jungkook reappeared, taking the liberty to take the seat on your right. “What are you fellas talking about?” he asked his buddies.

They didn’t dare utter a word. You were under the impression that they had an understanding between them that talking about your relationship right in Jungkook’s face was something one should not ought to do.

You, on the other hand, took it as your cue to speak, starting another topic to hopefully erase the previous one. “Ben said he can come. He’s boarding tonight,” you told Jungkook as he’s sipping from his glass of service water.

“That’s good.” He didn’t look as interested as he was yesterday.

“Who’s Ben?” It was Hoseok again.

“The bank clerk,” Jungkook answered.

“The new guy you’re seeing?” Yoongi asked you.

“Yep,” you said before turning to Jungkook. “And can you please refer to him by his name? He’s not just a bank clerk.”

“Is he a boring bank clerk?” Jungkook asked, that teasing smirk flashing on his mouth.

“Will he be here tomorrow?” Namjoon chimed in.

You nodded. “Hopefully.”

“Great,” Jungkook placed his glass down on the table. “It’ll be enough time to get to know him.”

He said ‘enough time’ like his time was limited because it really was. He informed you before you parted ways yesterday that he was graduating from the academy this Friday, and that after that, he was almost 100% sure he was going to be deployed again with some of his classmates for a mission that you wouldn’t be allowed to know the details of. 

Your stomach somersaulted when he told you that.

Somehow, despite convincing yourself that you no longer cared for Jungkook, the thought of his life being put at risk again once he was back on the field made you want to vomit in anxiety. It reminded you that his very dangerous occupation was one of the root causes of your separation, for there were months wherein you couldn’t take the fear of waiting in uncertainty on whether he was going to come home to you or not, regardless of how he promised he would every single time.

It was funny, you thought. One of your similarities with your husband was that the both of you were adrenaline junkies. You and him bonded over extreme rides in amusement parks, activities that got your heart pumping and gave you the sensation of being on top of the world—and yet it was the reason why you didn’t want to be with him anymore as well, too scared to continue loving him if he always sought for adventure and danger through being a naval aviator.

“You knew what you were signing up for, ____,” he told you during one of your many arguments. “You entered this relationship knowing the nature of my job. You can’t expect to adjust for you when it comes to—”

“I’m not expecting you to adjust for me, Kook,” you replied in exasperation, practically begging him to listen to you with an open mind at that point. “God, I just want you to consider me. I just want to feel that for once, you actually remember that someone’s always waiting for you to come home.”

Whenever conversations like that popped back inside your memory, you forced yourself to push it away. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to relive. You’ve spent far too many nights just crying because of how it felt like to be in a constant state of worry for the person you found yourself loving the most.

“We can all meet him, right?” asked Hoseok, looking at the other guys for back up. 

You surveyed them, raising your eyebrows before saying your answer.

“Like the hell you would.”

[antinousletmehit]

Hi! Could you maybe make a Telemachus x reader, where the reader is all flirty and teasing (honestly, basically inspired by Megara from Disney's Hercules) and Telemachus is just so incredibly flustered/frustrated, constantly tripping all over himself.

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x reader

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun hung low over Ithaca, bathing the palace courtyard in a golden glow. Telemachus stood near the edge of a fountain, staring intently at the water’s surface as though it might reveal all the answers to his life’s struggles. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, a habit he couldn’t quite shake whenever his mind wandered.

And then you arrived.

“Good afternoon, my prince,” you said, your voice light and teasing as you approached him. Telemachus’s head snapped up so quickly that he almost lost his balance, his sandals scraping awkwardly against the stone. “Oh! Uh, good afternoon! I didn’t see you there.” His words tumbled out, too fast and too loud, his boyish features immediately flushing pink.

You smiled, stepping closer and tilting your head at him. “You seem distracted. Are you pondering the mysteries of life, or just admiring your reflection?” His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, much like a fish out of water. “I-I wasn’t admiring my reflection!” he stammered, his ears turning an even deeper shade of red. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that! But I wasn’t. Not that I think I’m—“

You laughed, the sound light and melodic, and Telemachus’s heart skipped a beat. He suddenly felt very aware of how close you were standing, the faint scent of herbs and salt clinging to your presence. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know,” you said, leaning just slightly into his space.

Telemachus blinked at you, his face now a full shade of scarlet. “A-Adorable? I’m not—” He stopped himself, realizing he was about to argue with you over a compliment. He groaned internally. “I mean, thank you? I think?”

“You’re welcome,” you replied easily, your grin widening. “I was passing by and thought I’d come talk to the great Prince of Ithaca. But I never expected him to be this shy.”

“I’m n-not shy!” he protested, though the way he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck completely betrayed him. “Not shy, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Then maybe you won’t mind if I tell you I think you’re very handsome?” Telemachus nearly choked on air. His eyes widened, and his voice cracked as he stammered, “H-Handsome? Me? You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all,” you said, your tone smooth and confident. “I think you’re charming. And those eyes? Like stormy seas. You should really look in the fountain more often.” He glanced at the fountain reflexively, then back at you, his entire face on fire. He didn’t know what to say, and for a moment, he felt utterly flushed. No one talked to him like this. Sure, the suitors mocked him and the servants treated him with polite respect, but you—oh, you had him unraveling completely.

“I—uh—I don’t know what to—” he stuttered, fumbling over his words so badly that you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“You could start by saying thank you,” you offered helpfully, biting back a laugh.

“Right! Yes! Thank you!” he blurted out, bowing his head slightly in what was probably an attempt to regain composure. “That’s—um—very kind of you.” You took a step closer, your voice lowering just enough to send his pulse racing. “It’s not just kindness, you know. I mean every word.”

Telemachus froze, every muscle in his body locking up like a startled deer. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to run or stay rooted in place forever. “You—you do?”

“Of course,” you said, your smile softening into something genuine. “You’re brave, kind, and clever, Telemachus. You should hear it more often.” His name on your lips felt like a spark of lightning straight to his chest. He swallowed hard, finally managing to meet your gaze, though his cheeks still burned. “That…means a lot,” he said quietly, his voice finally steady. “I don’t hear it often.”

“Well, get used to it,” you said with a wink. “Because I plan on sticking around, and I have a lot more compliments where that came from.” Before he could think of a response—or before his brain could completely shut down—you reached out and lightly brushed your hand against his arm. The touch was brief, but it sent his heart into overdrive.

“See you around, my prince,” you said, turning to walk away. Telemachus stood there, completely frozen, as he watched you disappear into the palace. When you were out of sight, he finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his hand flying to his chest as though to steady his racing heart.

“Gods help me,” he muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of awe and terror. “I think I’m in love.”

[goldensunset]

to bloom under an artificial sun

[love-byers]

sus music editing in s4 byler scenes (a saga)

since tiktok might die in the US soon, i wanted to convert some of my old tiktoks into tumblr posts so they can live on forever! i've been wanting to do this for a while but never got around to it. i'm starting with this one because ive been posting about music coding a lot lately. i recommend watching the video attachment (at the end of the post) after reading the whole post, just so you'll have context when watching.

ALRIGHT!

will and mike are interrupted in the majority of their solo scenes. the scene in jonathan's room, the scene in will's room, the scene on the car, & the scene in the cabin. i noticed a long time ago that the songs used in the first 3 scenes listed build up for the first half and then kind of explode for the second half. there's a point where the song changes/released after the buildup.

the songs are:

eight fifteen (jonathan's room)

on the bus (will's room)

letter to willy (talk on the car)

BUT, in will's room & the car scene, mike and will are interrupted almost right before the song is supposed to climax. i lined the songs up and listened and i'm right. interestingly, in the scene in will's room, on the bus is edited. in the scene, the song starts like normal at the start of the song. but they cut the middle out so it would skip right to the part RIGHT before the climax of on the bus. THEY DID THAT. so at the very end of the scene just before they get interrupted, the song is teetering on the edge of the big explosive part of the song, but it doesn't happen because they're interrupted and the song ends. in the car scene letter to willy is also edited. maybe im wrong, but there's a note i hear in the car scene that i cannot find anywhere in the song. so it seems like they're purposefully using songs that are building to something but cut off right before the pay off of the buildup. i wouldn't be capitalizing on this so much if 90% of the scenes this happens in werent mike and will staring into each other's souls and then having their gazes torn from each other, but they are. so take that as you will.

now we need to talk about eight fifteen. this is fucking wild.

eight fifteen is all build up for the first half. then there's a moment where it teeters on the edge for a second, and then BOOM! release & loud pretty synths. i lined it up, and the 'teetering' part of the song is in the scene in jonathan's room, but like the others, it's edited. but this one is WAY more crazy.

the song starts from the beginning when will sits on the bed next to mike. it builds while mike talks about his problems with el and not saying the thing she wants. then will says "look, mike, you're gonna see her again, and whatever it is you didn't say, you can say it to her then, okay?" the teetering part starts when will says

"look" and goes all the way until he says "then"

when he says "then", that is the moment when the buildup is supposed to release. but in this scene, it doesn't happen. instead, when he finishes talking, specifically when he says "then" the note kind of trails off. it sounds weird. it's unsatisfying. there was no payoff to all that buildup. i've seen plenty of other tv shows where this is used to emphasize the face that there was no payoff. something in the scene was anticlimactic. something that they wanted to happen or were expecting to happen didnt. the characters are disappointed or left hanging.

and when that note trials off, mike says

"yeah...yeah" and looks down, looking upset and conflicted and disappointed

he wanted will to say something else. will saying "you can say it to her then, okay?" disappointed mike. that's not what he wanted to hear. i think mike wanted will to reassure him and tell him he doesn't have to say something he doesn't mean or doesn't want to say, and that when they see el again mike can explain himself. mike desperately wants to be told he doesn't have to pretend to be in love with el if that's not how he really feels. he wants to be told that el won't be angry if he's honest with her about his true feelings for her, which are platonic. (hence why he later nods after will says 'what if they don't like the truth?')

but will doesn't understand that. will thinks they are in love, he thinks they're perfect. so in his mind, it's fine because mike can just say it when he sees el again. but he thinks that because he thinks mike actually means it, when in reality he doesn't. and by doing that, will only further pushed mike into giving his false confession. now mike thinks even more that he just has to spit it out and tell el what she wants to hear even if it's not how he really feels. this just breaks my heart because mike is so hated on but he's a GOOD BOY💔💔 he's just a 14 year old kid who's afraid of failing the people he cares about but also hates lying about his feelings and just wants to feel free from the expectations others have for him. he just wants someone, specifically will, to tell him it's okay, and that he doesn't owe anyone anything, especially not his own feelings. and it hurts extra bad because if will knew the truth about mike not loving el he would shower him in support because of course mike shouldn't have to lie just because it's what el wants to hear.

and just in case anyone tries to say otherwise, YES mike lied in the monologue. it doesn't need to be proven, it's simply canon.

like there's no denying this. believing it's just a mistake by the writers before believing mike lied is CRAZY heteronormative copium. like come on💀

anyways, the things mike says and does in the scene in jonathan's support this theory. he threw away el's note. "a fight you cant come back from" "maybe if i just said that thing then things would be different" his phrasing sticks out so much. "said that thing" and not "told her" or "told her how i feel". to mike it's just saying words he doesn't want to say. and "a fight you cant come back from" its almost like he's hinting to will that he and el need to break up and he's hoping will will catch on and support him. he trusts will and values his opinion and wants his support. usually he and will very easily communicate non verbally and are naturally in tune with what the other is thinking and feeling, but this time will doesn't catch on (because of his own heteronormativity and assumption that mike and el are in love), and mike is disappointed. he brings this up over and over, like he isn't satisfied with will's answer, and is a little more honest every time. the only thing that seemingly satisfied mike was hearing will's feelings. why did it even get that far?? why would what will said in jonathan's room not suffice if he is actually in love with el??? it just doesn't make sense.

(unless it actually makes perfect sense)

i'm very confident in this since this lies less with the continuity within stranger things itself and more with basic film/video/sound editing. i even got some comments from editors/musicians who agreed with me!

"It's a tactic I've actually used before in editing. It keeps the audience engrossed, and really makes it FEEL interrupted for the audience."

"Woah that's crazy! And it literally stops on the fifth so it's totally legitimately unstable/ unresolved."

stopping on the fifth refers to a technique used in music composition to make a chord progression sound completed. i actually know a bit about this because i took music theory in college, but if anyone knows more than me feel free to share! a completed progression is like a circle. you must begin and end with the same chord. you start with one chord and move down a fifth to the next chord, and do that until you end up back at the original chord. that way it sounds nice and satisfying and completed. in 'on the bus', which the commenter was referring to, this process is cut short, which would serve no purpose other than making the music sound and feel incomplete or interrupted or unsatisfying.

if i just butchered that whole explanation please let me know, but im pretty sure that's accurate.

here is the video with two of the scenes i talked about, using 'Eight Fifteen' and 'On The Bus'

and just as a reminder, on the bus has only played twice in the entire show. first in the lumax talk on top of the bus in season 2, and second in the byler talk in will's room in s4. 🙂

anyways i hope this was comprehensible😅 i remember my tiktok followers being very confused so feel free to re read and re watch as many times as necessary or reply with any questions! and anyone who has more input on editing/music pls share with the class if you'd like!!

anyways byler endgame, thanks for reading

[wildfyrevalkyrie]

This is such a wonderful write-up.

Couple things I want to add:

Despite all of this cognitive dissonance, Emet-Selch is still aware on some level as to the truth. For as much as he seems to forget that the Ancients sacrificed for the little things in the world, it’s Hythlodaeus who teaches you about it. Hythlodaeus, who admits that when Emet-Selch created him, he must’ve had a stray thought about how “Hythlodaeus will realize the truth”. Hythlodaeus, who is part

My pet theory for this is because, despite all of his posturing otherwise, (“your lives are pale imitations devoid of meaning”/“i’ve lived a thousand thousand of your lives to see if you’re worthy to inherit and you’ve come up short”), he does on some level remember that his job is to shepherd all life on the star, not just the Ancients. You can see this in how the Shades of Amourant treat you vs the Ancients of Elpis. In Elpis, you’re regarded as a familiar, something interesting but less than human. The Shades, meanwhile, regard you as a child, a person that needs to be taught and protected. And this view of the modern people as children extends to the other Scions, which shows it’s not just Emet-Selch’s Azem bias.

With regard to the Ancients sacrificing themselves for all the little things in the world, I think part of the way it’s presented to us in Shadowbringers is false. Hythlodeaus in Amourant talks about it as though all the dust had settled and then half the remaining population calmly sacrificed themselves at the DMV for the little things in the world because that’s their purpose in life, and then the Convocation decided to betray that by making a plan to bring them all back, and that lead to the creation of Hydaelyn, but that doesn’t seem to 100% match up with the truth.

While the spirits in the quest “Sea of Sorrow” and “A Trip to the Moon” speak only of the loss and fear that the Final Days brought, and how they “Became one with the star” to “Fill earth and heaven with light. Birth paradise where fear is only a distant memory,” the ones in “The Martyr” (the next quest) outright states that they “must return and be made whole” since they “are the will of the star” “now and forever”.

Additionally, while Hytholdeaus presents the matter as discrete events happening in peace and done because the Ancients were very noble, we see parts of the second sacrifice in “Thou Must Live, Die, and Know”. We see that the first sacrifice wasn’t enough, that the world was still apocalyptic. We see people sacrifice themselves to Zodiark not out of the good of the star but because they can’t bear reality and want to go back to “the days of old”. The creation of Hydaelyn and the sundering is presented not as a response to the Convocation’s plan but as a response to the people sacrificing themselves to Zodiark.

This isn’t to disregard the notability of their sacrifice—even had they believed it to only be temporary, it’s still impressive—but to shine a light on how our understanding of the Ancients in Shadowbringers come from an unreliable narrator. Emet-Selch has been trying to justify his actions to the memory of his people for millennia, he’s devoted his life to these memories, I don’t think it’s that unreasonable to suggest that the years have likely eroded away some of the rough edges the people in said memories might have had.

The Ancients were people—generally peaceful, very powerful, somewhat spoiled people, but people capable of being cruel, and selfish, and lacking in empathy. We see this in Elpis and in the Bureau of the Architect, where the Ancients created and destroyed life generally without a thought for how said life felt about it, just what would be “good for the star”. Life was sacred and death was celebrated in Ancient culture, but only some life. For the rest of it, well they’ve “served their purpose” and it’s time for them “to be reverted”—quotes from the quest “Verdict and Execution”, which honestly does a good job showing this gap in the Ancients’ empathy.

one thing I find neat about Emet-Selch is that his chauvinism is so intense that it actually prevents him from making the strongest possible case for the unique moral goodness of the ancients, and that this same mental distortion ties into his classic final fantasy need to turn into a Horrible Final Form Monstrosity for your final fight

(for my part I think any minor unique moral goodness the ancients possess they have due to their status as demigods living in eden before the fall. even if they really are morally/intellectually/spiritually/magically/etc. superior to every modern eorzean on a 1:1 level it still doesn't change anything because 1) they are mythical and impossible, that's the whole point and 2) even if they weren't, they still have no particular claim to existence that is superior to anyone else's, no matter how good they are. but the point here is the case Emet-Selch is trying to make, which is that they are more "worthy" of life.)

when he's setting you up for the final amaurot sequence, Emet-Selch hits you with this one:

it's a solid line! stops the party cold for a second.

it's also...not that impressive. do I think if we called a big world meeting that half of everyone would just jump up to be chosen? maybe, maybe not. but, sorry: we're having a big world meeting? are we also demigods with their every material need fulfilled in this version? do we have a one world government that almost everyone seems to fully trust telling us that it knows for real a way to stop the meteor heading towards earth? because honestly i think as soon as we start creating structural similarities like that, it becomes a lot more likely. and every step you take towards making the comparison happen on level ground makes the idea that the ancients were possessed of some unique moral fiber that made them capable of this sacrifice (as opposed to the undeniable abilities in magic and global governance that actually enabled it) seem less and less likely.

and especially if you consider it in the context of what actual people are like. human (and presumably eorzean) history is replete with examples of people sacrificing themselves to save others, even though none of us are immortal wizard philosophers. i don't know how the white-room thought-experiment "will half of you die to save the others???" turns out. but do i think, across a grand rolling catastrophe, that half our population would sacrifice itself to save the other half in a million individual acts of sacrifice to save a parent, a child, a lover, a friend, a stranger? that seems significantly more plausible. altruism and sacrifice for others is even pretty frequent in animals! it's not a very unique moral behavior!

(stanford encyclopedia of philosophy on biological altruism)

but that's not the only sacrifice the ancients made. roll the tape, hythlodaeus!

...Yet oh how the star had suffered. So many species lost. The land was blighted, the waters poisoned, and even the wind had ceased to blow. Once more did our people give of themselves to Zodiark. Another half of our race sacrificed to cleanse the world; to ensure that trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives would sprout and grow and flourish.

(every time I read this speech and hit the ff1/3/5 ref about the land and waters and wind i become mylongestyeahboyever.avi)

this is the step beyond, and it's what separates the ancients from modern humans. they viewed themselves as stewards of the star and really meant it; whatever other criticisms you might level, you can't doubt the depths of their commitment. and this i think really does make them morally distinct from modern people, or at least raises that possibility in a much more compelling way than the first sacrifice. half of the living population sacrificing itself not in a moment of duress and apocalypse but in a moment of calm? when the sacrifice isn't for anything but plants and animals and some tiny proto-eorzeans? that kind of cold, calculated, long-term altruism, aimed at people and living beings that are nothing like you...that does feel like something a little more unique, more worth preserving. even in just the text of the game, we can say with real certainty that the ancients were at least more capable of facing their problems and had greater moral integrity and care for the world than, say, the people who made ra-la.

but emet-selch can't ever say that because rejecting and dishonoring the decision the ancients made as stewards of the star is his primary goal.

like, "my people were uniquely morally good. half the living population sacrificed themselves not for their loved ones or for the survival of their people but simply for the world. for the trees and grasses and the wind and the water. for the humblest insects and for the summer breeze and the tides." that fucks! damn, you got me there! i watch enough people throw aluminum cans in the trash on a weekly basis that i find this sincerely moving and beyond the seeming abilities of my own brethren! oh no, i'm being persuaded by the fascist immortal space wizard!

"and therefore, because they are uniquely morally good, we are going to sacrifice and kill the very things they gave their lives to save, so we can have them back :)" well, shit. i'm experiencing some dissonance here.

but you can't actually lie to yourself as long as emet-selch without distorting your understanding of the truth. you cannot choose to see the world falsely half the time and clearly the other half. in committing to self-deceit and willful ignorance regarding the value of the modern world, emet-selch blinds himself not just to the world as it is but to the ancients as they were. if he could describe accurately the ways in which the ancients were genuinely noble and benevolent, he would also have to able to see clearly how he has entirely deviated from that ideal. and he cannot do that and stay on the path he has chosen, so he simply chooses not to see things accurately.

i cannot help but link this blindness of his to his trial. here, at what seems to emet-selch to be the last stand of the ancients, he says to you "to be clear this fight IS a metaphor, and in that metaphor i stand in for the Entire Unsundered World."

and yet, in standing against you, he betrays both the customs of the ancients and his very title, itself a direct signifier of the mission he was charged with as one of the convocation of fourteen: "to ensure that all is right in creation, that our star may know a brighter future." contra elidibus, for whom remembering his duty to the ancients is one and the same act as remembering his name, emet-selch declares his own to be mere pretense. and that's before we even reach the matter of his transformation.

emet-selch believes the only way he can save the ancients is to betray their principles, forget their greatest triumphs, and abandon their trappings. he renounces almost everything of the ancients, save for his pale and sad and faceless amaurot, in the hopes of bringing them back.

i am reminded a little of borges's three versions of judas, a short story which uses the lens of fictional literary criticism (appropriate for a story as interested in competing narrative interpretations as shadowbringers is) to recast the betrayal of christ by judas not as the greatest of sins but as the greatest of sacrifices.

The ascetic, for the greater glory of God, vilifies and mortifies his flesh; Judas did the same with his spirit. He renounced honor, morality, peace and the kingdom of heaven, just as others, less heroically, renounce pleasure. With terrible lucidity he premeditated his sins.

and, in turn, the sardonic footnote to that very same line, which unsettles that sentiment as soon as it has been presented:

Borelius inquires mockingly: “Why didn’t he renounce his renunciation? Or renounce the idea of renouncing his renunciation?”

[earthchica]

why don't we fall in love?

aaron pierre x black, fem! reader {actress}

summary: you have a massive crush on your best friend and co-star, Aaron. When you tell him about your feelings, he respectfully wants to stay as friends, but he soon realizes that it might have been a mistake.

warnings: FLUFF, friends to lovers, first-time kissing, light angst, rejection, actor/actress, not real life, movie set, original characters, use of Y/N, words: 2k

note: I was so anxious about writing this, but here it is..it's something short and sweet. Let me know if I should do part 2; please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

-

The neon lights flickered playfully above the packed venue, casting a warm glow on the faces of the cast and crew celebrating the halfway-through wrap-up of the film.

Laughter echoed as glasses clinked, the atmosphere electric with relief and joy. In the corner, you leaned against the bar, swirling your drink, your mind caught between the celebration and anxiety that's been building for weeks.

“Girl, go talk to him!” Your co-star, Tess, nudged you with a playful grin, her voice slightly slurred from the champagne. “This is your chance! You can't keep waiting forever.”

You have known Aaron for two and a half years and have worked alongside him on three movies, including this one. You both have become close friends and developed a strong connection.

You glanced at Aaron, his tall, muscular frame standing out among the crowd. His light caramel skin glowed under the lights, and he calmly recounted a story, laughter spilling from his lips like music.

The way he commanded the attention of everyone around him made your heart race. “I don't know, Tess… what if he doesn’t feel the same?” You replied, biting your lip, the remnants of your country accent softening your words.

“Please! He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. Just go for it!” She insisted, raising her glass in encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you let the liquid courage settle in your veins and headed over to him.

The closer you got, the more your heart beat against your ribcage. Aaron caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up in recognition, and he stepped away from his group, his smile widening.

“Well, if it ain't the beauty of all this party!” Aaron said teasingly, his deep british voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Hey, Aaron,” You started your voice with a delicate mix of sweetness and nerves, looking around at the party. “Can we chat for a minute? Somewhere a bit quieter?”

His eyes were still on you, and he nodded with a light smile. “Of course,” Aaron replied, his brow furrowing slightly with curiosity as he led you to a more secluded corner.

As the music faded into the background, you felt both exhilaration and trepidation surge within you. “So, I’ve wanted to tell you…for a long time that...”

You paused, gathering the courage that felt so difficult to muster. “I really like you, Aaron. Like, a lot.” You said, and Aaron looked down at you with admiration, surprise, and something else.

“Wow. I…I’m flattered…Y/N Really. You’re amazing, you know that? and I care deeply about you.” Aaron started, and you felt your heart sink slightly, but his tone was gentle and respectful.

“But...uh...I see you as my dear friend, and right now, I don’t think it’s the right time for me to get involved with anyone.” Aaron said honestly.

“Oh!” You murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to conceal your disappointment. A delicate smile played on your lips, masking the tsunami of emotions churning within.

“I completely understand; it’s just that I've been holding on to these feelings for you, and I wanted to tell you," You admitted, glancing down at your fidgeting hands briefly, feeling vulnerable under the weight of your honesty.

As if sensing your uneasiness, Aaron gently squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the connection you both shared.

"Hey….I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.” Aaron said softly, his voice steady and comforting. His words hung in the air, filled with hope and concern.

"It won't, Aaron I promise." With a nod, you tried to shake off the feeling of rejection, forcing yourself to enjoy the remainder of the party.

-

The days turned into weeks, and you and Aaron continued to share a platonic friendship filled with laughter, deep conversations, and mutual respect.

You reveled in the banter and effortless moments spent together, both on set and off. Lately, however, Aaron has noticed a change. You seemed to be spending more time with Kenny, a castmate.

On one scorching afternoon during a break in filming, you found yourself in your trailer with Kenny. As the sun blazed outside, you and Kenny were sprawled on the floor of your trailer, giggling and pretending to throw punches at each other.

In between bouts of laughter, Kenny leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey, have you talked to Aaron lately?” he teased, smirking.

“You two are a soap opera waiting to happen.” You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “Kenny, chill! I’ve told you before, stop with the Aaron jokes!”

Kenny feigned shock, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Wait, why? I thought you were all lovey-dovey with him now. Didn’t you tell him how you felt?”

Sighing, you leaned back against the couch. “Well, I did, and.....it turns out he doesn’t feel the same way. So…yeah.”

Kenny’s eyes widened in surprise. “No way! For real? That’s so lame, he's a lame!” He threw his hands up dramatically, exaggerating the situation.

“Hey! Don’t say that about him; he's not a lame!” You exclaimed, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"Sorry, friend! Look at you, taking up for him; you down bad," Kenny said with a chuckle, returning the light hit without missing a beat, grinning even more expansively.

"You're gonna stop talking shit." You laughed, shaking your head, and both of you began playfully wrestling, ending up on top of him. There was a knock on your trailer door.

You didn't hear the voice over you laughing and just told them to come in. The door opened, and there stood Aaron, staring at you and Kenny in a position that could be taken out of context.

Your smile faded as you processed his expression. Instantly, you pushed yourself off Kenny, your instincts urging you to create distance.

Aaron's gaze was intense on Kenny, and he sensed the tension in the air. "Uh…I think that's my cue to leave; I'll see ya later, Y/N," Kenny said quickly, excusing himself.

Kenny hurried away, eager to escape the charged atmosphere, leaving you with a whirlwind of feelings and an unsettling silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Aaron…” You started, hoping to explain to him but you really didn't have to because you weren't his. Aaron cleared his throat, the frown deepening as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I need to talk to you...” His voice was firm, potentially masking a vulnerability you could sense but couldn’t pinpoint. You nodded, waiting for Aaron to settle into whatever he wanted to say.

“I’ve been watching you and Kenny, and it’s been real hard just to watch,” Aaron said with his brow still furrowed, and you could see the conflict in his eyes.

“I know I told you I see you as my friend, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings for you.” Aaron started, and your heart raced, feeling a mix of surprise and something you couldn’t quite place.

“What do you mean, Aaron?” You asked softly, your sweet southern accent tinged with concern. You were trying to get a better understanding of what he meant.

“I mean…I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t anymore. I like you, and it’s not just a little. When I saw you and Kenny together, it stung.” His voice was deep, resonating with sincerity and frustration.

"It made me realize how ridiculous it would be to pass up on such an amazing experience of being with you." His honesty hung heavy in the air between you. You felt your cheeks warm, your heart battling hope and confusion.

“That's sweet, and If it makes you feel any better, Kenny and I are just friends…we were joking around, but I thought you didn’t want anything serious right now.”

Aaron took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours as the weight of his feelings hung between you. “It’s complicated,” he replied with frustration.

“I’ve always valued our friendship, but when I thought of you with someone else, I realized that what I feel runs deeper,” Aaron added; you felt a rush of conflicting emotions.

You were thrilled to hear him express this, but another part felt cautious. “I appreciate you telling me how you feel, Aaron, but I guess I need more convincing,” you said, barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened more as he looked down at you. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N—your kindness, humor, beauty, passion for acting, and everything that makes you great. You make me feel things I never thought I could feel.”

You took a moment to digest his words, the flutter in your chest growing louder. “Wow, Aaron.” A rush of emotions washed over you, disbelief mingling with hope. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Aaron stepped closer, his sincerity cutting through the tension. "I want to explore this feeling I have for you. I really would love to take you out on a date.”

The intensity of his conviction hit you like a wave. “You really mean it? You want to try something more?” you asked, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation.

“Yeah, I do, Y/N,” Aaron affirmed, a quiet resolve settling into his expression. “This may sound cliché, but we could be great together as a couple. I’ve thought about what we could have, and it terrifies me how much I want it.”

A smile blooming across your face, you nodded. “Okay, Aaron. Let's give this a try.” You said, and his expression eased, relief washing over his features.

Aaron reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers in a simple yet profound gesture. “Fantastic. We can take this one step at a time.” He said before lifting his hand to kiss your hand.

-

Your first date with Aaron was perfect, just as you had imagined. While you both were still filming for weeks, you shared moments like lounging together after long days on set. Each of these moments felt increasingly intimate.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through your phone on IG, while Aaron leaned back, arms stretched along the top of the small sofa, his gaze focused intently on you.

“Y’know, you look real pretty in that soft light,” Aaron finally said, his deep, british accent fluttering your heart whenever he spoke. You looked up, meeting his soft, light eyes.

“Aaron, you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re sweet on me,” You teased, your southern drawl lacing your voice with a playful charm that made him laugh.

“Maybe I am,” Aaron said with a slightly shy smile creeping onto his face. "Can you blame me? You’ve got that glow about you, babe.”

“It’s this light,” You replied, waving a dismissive hand, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter into your chest. “Besides, you know I love it when you compliment me,” you added.

“I mean every word,” Aaron said earnestly, leaning forward slightly as if the distance between you was an invisible barrier he wanted to breach.

“You’re so captivating, it’s hard not to stare,” Aaron whispered; there it was—how he looked at you as if you were the only person in the universe.

It sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You could feel the tension in the air, a beautiful electricity crackling between you both. Aaron's eyes searched yours, his voice lowering.

“I want to kiss you real bad right now,”

You chuckled lightly, feeling warmth across your chest at his admission. “What are you waiting for, then? I’m right here, darlin’, I reckon you could keep up.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Aaron countered. “It’s just…I don’t want to jeopardize doing something that might make you uncomfortable. Not until I’m sure you feel ready.”

Your heart raced at the mix of his shyness and honesty. “Aaron, no need to overthink it, I'm ready.” With that, the tension in the room shifted.

You locked eyes, and the playful teasing ebbed into something more profound. Aaron leaned slightly closer, his eyes darting between your lips and your eyes, the desire palpable in the air.

“I…I’m glad to hear that, Y/N,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with relief. “It makes the idea of a kiss less terrifying.”

“Babe, you act like this is your first time kissing...there's no need to think about it too much,” you encouraged, a smile blooming on your lips, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Now, come here and kiss me already.” Aaron’s nervous laughter filled the space as he moved closer, his large hands gently resting on your waist.

The way he respected your space yet tried to close it felt like a dance—a delicate balance between desire and respect. He paused just a breath away, his warm breath mingling with yours.

“You’re sure about this?” Aaron asked, still looking back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Come here,” You whispered, your voice thick with conviction.

In a heartbeat, the distance vanished. His plump lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as though he were afraid he’d break the spell that had settled between you.

But the kiss deepened, a flood of emotions swirling around as those initial nerves gave way to something beautiful, something real. His hands tangled in your curly hair as yours reached his strong shoulders, grounding you both in the moment.

It felt like the universe had shifted, aligning in a way that was meant to be. As you pulled away slightly, both of you breathless, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your hearts buzzing with the thrill of what had just happened.

“Well, that was definitely worth the wait,” you said, beaming with delight as a broad smile spread across your face. The excitement from the moment lingered in the air around you.

“Indeed it was,” Aaron replied, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at you, clearly sharing in your delight. The warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter.

“This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” you asked, your voice brimming with excitement and curiosity. As you leaned forward, your eyes sparkled with the thrill of the possibility of wanting more than just a kiss.

“Yes, it is,” Aaron responded with a look of desire, like his Gemini twin switch, and you could feel your whole being swell with arousal and excitement for what lay ahead.

part 2???

[fidenciocryptidcreechur]

LMAO i love this

Who takes it seriously:

Malleus,

Sebek (mostly the intent and will scold you for planning and also how it's too soon but does keep the plastic ring),

Silver (very serious with the intent, surprised by the spontaneity, suggests waiting until he's knighted),

Kalim (might actually start prepping stuff immediately, he's very excited but also he wants this done proper plus there's a lot to do now and people to tell)

Low-key Riddle goes here as well but it's because he gets flustered but also he still falls back on those rules and blurts out how there are steps to courtship and engagement and marriage. He's happy and takes it but also he's probably going off about rules and traditions

Who gets very flustered, doesn't necessarily take it seriously but definitely gets the affection:

Azul (send help he's living a romance novel and you're sweet with minimal pay out, will return the favor, his usual motivation of "equal payment" kinda falls flat though because of his grand gesture),

Deuce (guy is very flattered and also doesn't know how to return the gesture but you can be guaranteed he's gonna do something sweet back for you),

Idia (he's going to die of fluster and cute, talks about how he's ready and his charisma level isn't high when, very flustered, flaming pink)

Grumbles about it but will still want the ring and will still take it, likely have it on them or somewhere safe:

Jack (grumbles at you, his big tail is wagging so hard it's about to knock over stuff, probably wears it somewhere on him),

Ace (annoyingly smug and won't shut up about it, takes really good care of the plastic ring, genuinely keeps track of it and carries it, will never shut up about it, very happy),

Jamil (he's very flustered but also he is trying not to get too overwhelmed- trying to avoid by you being silly and teasing, grumbles at you to not play around, still takes it though)

Teases/jokes back, is very happy

Leona (he teases you about it while holding his hand out expectantly, unlikely to have it out and about since his dorm gets rough and he does do a lot so he has it hidden away safe),

Vil Schoenheit (gives some quips but ultimately that boils down to him saying he'll show you the way he would give a gift of promise<- he's just saying he's gonna give something back cause he liked it, keeps the ring somewhere he can see it everyday, likely does wear it when he can)

Jade leech (he's so fucking giggly forever afterwards, teases you about the spontaneity, carries it with him everywhere)

Cater diamond (it goes on his phone with his phone accessories, teases you about it, fully plays out several bits about being married but can get easily flustered at times by his own games)

"Yeah, we're married now" will roll with it and is very happy. They're going to act married now, y'all official couples now

Lilia Vanrouge

Floyd Leech

Rook hunt

All of these guys are very very happy with the sentiment, they're also the guys that are most likely to go with the flow and certainly the type to nearly instantly go along with their feelings if they think it's right or worth it. Very happy to accept the plastic ring and go along with it. Assumes y'all are together honestly.

Sam's shop having one of those gumball machines where you can get a cute little plastic ring, Yuu is there with their fave twst boy and immediately gives the little piece of plastic they got to him and states with a serious face-

"Were married now."

[alice-driver]

Luke Castellan x fem!reader

Don’t Tell Me No

Summary: No matter what you ask of Luke, he’ll always do it because he simply can’t say no to you, “his best friend.” Friends-to-lovers, happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Specifications: Content is for all audiences. The reader has no physical characteristics, and their cabin is not specified in the story to make it easier for the reader to identify with the character. Thank you.

I don’t speak English, so there might be grammatical errors here, sorry :(

(Let me know if you notice anything, and I’ll fix it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

To everyone at Camp Half-Blood, it was obvious that Luke and you weren’t just friends, but whenever someone asked about your relationship, you both denied it, insisting you were “just friends.” To everyone else, your mutual feelings were crystal clear—except to you two.

This was reinforced by the way Luke treated you. Whatever you asked, he never said no. Why would he? Why would he refuse when you were his everything? Maybe he spoiled you too much, but who cared? If you asked for the moon, he’d pull it down from the sky and hand it to you without hesitation. Maybe that’s why you always asked him for so much. Every day, without fail, you’d ask him for something—a favor, sometimes several in one day—and he never refused. No matter the circumstances, he’d always say yes because you were his world. You knew this, which is why you took advantage of it—not just to spend time with him, but because you wanted to feel loved by him. And you were, but you needed constant affirmation.

“Luke! Carry me to my cabin,” you demanded one evening. He’d had a long, tiring day—something you didn’t know—but he didn’t mind. It was you, after all, and he’d do anything for you. Without a second thought, he scooped you up into his arms like a princess.

As he walked toward your cabin, you gently swung your feet back and forth, played with the short hair on the back of his neck, and planted soft kisses on his skin. It was normal for you two, the “best friends.” To Luke, it still gave him the same nerves it had the first time. He wished those moments could last forever, but soon you arrived at your cabin.

“We’re here. Sweet dreams, princess,” he said softly as he set you down carefully, as if you were something fragile. His calm, steady voice sounded perfect against the quiet of the camp at night.

You smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You loved when he did things like that; it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Rest well, Luke,” you replied. Your smile was like the sweetest honey to Luke’s heart. It was the reason behind his special treatment of you. Every time he gave you something, he’d receive that smile in return, and it made his chest feel warm. He felt special, knowing he was the only one who could make you smile like that.

The next day, you spent most of your time without seeing Luke, which soured your mood. You finished the tasks you’d been assigned, but none of them overlapped with his.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that you finally spotted him from afar. Triumphant, you grabbed your tray and made your way over to him with an excuse ready.

“Luke, give me your grapes. They look sweeter than mine.” Without hesitation, he reached for his plate to give them to you, but Chris interrupted.

“Why should he give them to you?”

You’d never been questioned before, and the situation felt horrible and embarrassing. It seemed like Chris had said it loud enough for the entire camp to hear. You didn’t know what to say or do. Chris had never interfered between you and Luke before.

“You don’t want to, Luke?” Your voice came out as a soft, nervous whisper as you looked to him for reassurance. Luke, meanwhile, stared angrily at Chris.

You’d never stopped to think if Luke was okay with everything you asked of him.

“Shut up, Chris,” Luke snapped before swapping his grapes for yours and placing them on your tray. His heart nearly broke when he saw the sad look on your face. He’d never do anything to upset you. All he wanted was to make you happy.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Enjoy the grapes,” he said in the same soft, understanding tone he always used with you. His reassuring smile told you everything was fine.

“Thank you, Luke.” His nickname for you felt comforting, and you managed a small smile before rolling your eyes at Chris, who wasn’t pleased to see you getting your way. You turned and went back to your cabin’s table.

Once Luke was sure you were seated and eating, he turned to Chris, furious at how he’d treated you.

“What’s your problem? Why’d you talk to her like that?”

“Don’t you see it? She just treats you like her servant.”

Luke thought carefully before responding. “And so what if she does?”

Chris stared at him in shock. He knew Luke was a lost cause.

The conversation continued, with Chris trying to reason with him—a task Luke didn’t appreciate.

Taking a deep breath, Luke replied, “Look, Chris, if I wanted to say no, I would. But I don’t want to.”

“You’re a fool in love,” Chris said, shaking his head.

Luke tried to hide his blush, clearing his throat before responding, “In love? No, she’s just my—”

“Yeah, yeah, your best friend. I’ve heard it a thousand times. You’re blind, man,” Chris interrupted.

Chris’s words planted a seed of doubt in Luke’s mind, though he already knew the answer.

He was in love with you.

After lunch, you searched the camp for Luke, but he was nowhere to be found. You began to feel insecure, wondering if your requests had finally bothered him.

You spent the rest of the day finishing your tasks with little enthusiasm. Your mind was swirling with questions: “What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” or “Does he hate me now?”

Luke, meanwhile, spent his day distracted, thinking of you. His questions were different: “How can I tell her how I feel?” and “Does she feel the same way?”

There was supposed to be a campfire that evening, but you had no energy to attend. Your siblings tried to convince you to go, but you declined, and they didn’t push further.

Luke had made up his mind to confess his feelings that night. But when he didn’t see you at the campfire, he grew worried. After learning from your siblings that you’d stayed in your cabin, he quickly headed there.

You were lying on your bed, having taken advantage of the solitude to shower and change into your pajamas. Wrapped in a blanket, your legs were curled beneath you as your head rested on your knees. You were starting to feel sleepy, your damp hair sticking slightly to your skin in the warm night air.

Hearing a knock at the door, you assumed it was one of your siblings. Groggy, you got up, wrapped your blanket around your shoulders, slipped on your slippers, and opened the door without checking who it was. Then you returned to your bed.

Luke stood at the door, surprised by your indifference to his presence. Summoning his courage, he softly called your name, his voice louder than he’d intended in the silent room.

Hearing his voice, you quickly get up, making yourself dizzy with the sudden motion. Luke noticed immediately and hurried to your side. You sat back down on your bed, and he followed suit.

“I didn’t realize it was you. Sorry, I was falling asleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper after hours of silence. Luke found it amusing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I was worried when I didn’t see you at the campfire,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I just didn’t feel like going,” you replied, unable to hide a smile at his gentle gesture.

“Why not? You usually love those events,” he said, then continued before you could respond, “It’s when we get to spend the most time together.”

He was right. Between training, chores, and duties, the campfires were when you could truly be together. His words made you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his tone kind as he softly stroked your hair. “I just thought you’d be there. Without you, it wasn’t fun,” he confessed.

His admission surprised you, and your cheeks turned pink.

“I’m sure you could have fun with Chris,” you teased. Luke chuckled.

“Chris isn’t fun.” This made you laugh.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” you said.

“He’s just like that. He doesn’t understand,” Luke replied. You looked at him, confused. Noticing this, he took your hand in his.

“Doesn’t understand what?” you asked. Luke had been hoping you’d ask. He took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words.

“He doesn’t understand…” He paused, nerves overwhelming him. “He doesn’t understand that I’d do anything for you because…” This was harder than he’d thought.

“Because?” you prompted, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

“Because you’re everything to me,” he said, adding your name. You’d never liked the sound of your name as much as you did in that moment, spoken by him. “I like you,” he admitted.

You didn’t know what to say, but actions spoke louder than words. You moved closer, placing a hand on his cheek before pressing a soft, slow kiss to his lips. Though the kiss was brief, it told him everything he needed to know.

“I like you too, Luke,” you whispered, your faces still inches apart. Both of you were blushing, looking like the love-struck fools you truly were.

“I feel so silly now. I thought you hated me because I always ask you for so much,” you confessed, embarrassed. His hands never left yours, keeping you close.

“Hate you? How could I? You’re my everything. I’d never say no to you, and I’d do anything you asked if it meant seeing you happy.”

This time, it was Luke who leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, tender kiss that lasted much longer than the first.

When you finally pulled away, you asked him something you’d wanted to for a long time.

“Luke, will you be my boyfriend?” Your question caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny the joy it brought him.

“Yes, princess” he said, both of you laughing as he brought your hands to his lips kissing with a romantic tenderness.

“Luke, kiss me.”

“I could never say no to you,” he replied, cupping your face in his hands before giving you the most romantic, heartfelt kiss you could imagine.

The next day, you two were even more affectionate than usual, making it obvious you’d finally taken the leap.

“Finally, man?” Chris approached Luke, asking the question everyone wanted to know.

“Finally. We’re dating,” Luke replied confidently, happiness radiating from him as he watched you from across the camp.

“See? All you needed was a little push,” Chris teased.

Maybe Chris didn’t dislike you as much as you thought.

[heartsriki]

K-DRAMA CLICHES ⌇ 드라마

pairing ᝰ jake x fem!reader — featuring.. hanni | word count: 2800+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ college au, kissing, extremely corny, reader likes dramas, jealousy, tiny bit of angst.

synopsis — after a bet you and jake made on drama night, you come to the realization of how you truly feel about jake and how jake feels about you.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊This is the corniest thing you'll read ever but ykw ima post it even though I hate it...

The night was cool and cozy as you snuggled under your blanket on the couch. It was Sunday, which meant only one thing—drama night. Ever since you started the tradition, Jake would come over after classes to watch K-dramas with you. He wasn’t exactly a fan of them, but he didn’t care. Seeing you happy made it all worth it for him.

“Another romance?” Jake asked, his laugh soft but teasing.

You side-eyed him, refusing to be swayed, and clicked on the show with the remote. “Everyone says this one’s good, so we’re watching it. Plus, it has my favorite actor. I can’t believe I haven’t seen it yet!” you said excitedly, grabbing your pillow and favorite snack.

Jake just shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips, before settling next to you on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. As the opening credits began to roll, he glanced at you. You were already so engrossed, your eyes sparkling with anticipation. Jake loved that about you—how much you immersed yourself in the things you enjoyed. Honestly, he could sit like this forever.

Honestly, Jake tried to focus on the screen, but it was almost impossible with you sitting so close to him. Every so often, you’d lean in to whisper something, your breath brushing against his ear, and he’d shiver despite himself. How were you so oblivious? You’d always been like this—teasing, leaning into his space—ever since you were kids. Back then, it didn’t bother him. But now? Now it was torture.

Jake glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were completely immersed in the show, not even noticing the effect you had on him. Typical. You had no idea what you were doing to him, and that was the problem. Oblivious as ever.

The room was soon filled with your laughter and Jake’s playful commentary as the two of you watched the show. That was, until that scene—a spicy kiss that made Jake freeze. His wide eyes stayed glued to the screen, while you sat completely unfazed, casually munching on your snack. He looked at your glowing eyes then back down to your lips and kept doing that on repeat till he snapped himself out of it. How could you not react to this? Did you not even think of him as a man? He gulped, the lump in his throat betraying his nerves, which caused him to cough lightly. That caught your attention.

You turned, your brow raised. “Too spicy for you, Jake Sim?”

Jake scoffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, right,” he said, crossing his arms defensively. “I don’t even get why you find him attractive. Anyone can do that.”

You smirked, your teasing nature in full force. “Mmm, I see. Someone’s jealous that he can pull all the ladies and you can’t.”

Jake’s jaw dropped as he grabbed the remote in mock indignation. “You think I can’t pull? Oh, I can pull. Trust.”

“Okay,” you said, tilting your head challengingly, “then do it.”

“What?”

“Pull a girl using K-drama cliches by the end of the week,” you said with a smirk, “and I’ll buy you lunch for a week, and if you lose vice versa.”

Jake narrowed his eyes but didn’t back down. “Make it a month, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You hesitated for a second, questioning if you might regret this, but ultimately shrugged. “Fine.”

Jake was screwed. Pull a girl? He couldn’t even manage a conversation with one without tripping over himself, let alone pulling one with K-drama-level charm. And it was already Tuesday—time was running out, and he hadn’t even chosen a target yet. He should’ve known better than to agree to this stupid bet.

He was sitting in the library, attempting to focus on his notes, when you crept up behind him and scared him. Jake yelped, earning a few annoyed glances from nearby students.

“Y/n, that isn’t funny…” he muttered, clutching his chest like you’d just shaved years off his life.

You laughed, clearly unbothered. “My bad. I didn’t know you were so sensitive,” you teased, pulling out a chair and crossing one leg over the other as you casually scanned his notes. “So… how’s it coming along?”

Jake blinked up at you. “How’s what?”

“Jake.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “Ugh, can’t we just forget about it? Seriously, this whole thing is dumb.”

“Sure,” you said nonchalantly.

He sat up straight, staring at you in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “But man, I could really go for some ramen right now—”

“Alright, alright, stop it!” Jake groaned, dramatically wriggling in his chair like a kid throwing a tantrum.

Later that day, Jake finally spotted his target. And honestly, she was perfect. Hanni—pretty, popular, and friendly. She’d even shown interest in him before, so what could possibly go wrong?

You, of course, were never far behind. You smacked the back of his bookbag as you caught up to him, startling him yet again. “Did you find your target?” you asked casually, following his line of sight. Then you saw her. “Oh—”

Jake turned to you, narrowing his eyes. “Oh?”

“Oh, as in, ‘Oh, good luck!’ Haha,” you said, brushing it off with a weak laugh and playfully hitting his shoulder.

But in truth, you didn’t like her. And you weren’t sure why. Ever since her crush on Jake became public knowledge across campus, something about her rubbed you the wrong way. She just made you… uneasy. Whatever that meant.

Jake was nervous as he made his way toward Hanni, clutching his notebook as if it could somehow shield him from embarrassment. You watched from the same spot he left you, pretending to read but not processing any of the words. Your eyes kept drifting to Jake.

It was rare to see him this determined, and you couldn’t help but feel… weird about it. When he finally reached Hanni, she looked up from her book and smiled. You felt a pang in your chest, though you quickly pushed it down.

Jake scratched the back of his neck, his usual nervous habit. “Hey, Hanni,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Jake!” she said brightly, closing her book. “What’s up?”

You watched as he stumbled through his words, clearly flustered. He made some lame joke about their shared class, and Hanni laughed—like, really laughed. You couldn’t hear what they were saying after that, but you could see Hanni tuck her hair behind her ear, leaning in just slightly.

Your jaw tightened as you forced your eyes back to your book. Why do I care? You thought. This is literally what he’s supposed to be doing. I told him to do this. But no amount of logic could silence the strange twist in your stomach.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake laugh at something Hanni said, his usual goofy grin lighting up his face. She reached out and playfully hit his arm, and he didn’t pull away.

You clenched your fist against the pages of your book, trying to keep your expression neutral. It wasn’t like you had any right to feel this way. You weren’t his girlfriend, or even close to being more than just his best friend.

So you didn’t do anything. You sat there under the tree, acting like you didn’t notice the way Jake leaned a little closer to Hanni like you didn’t feel the pang in your chest every time she made him smile.

Eventually, Jake walked back to you, his face lit up with a mixture of pride and nerves. “Guess who has a study date?” he said, plopping down beside you.

You forced a smile, closing your book. “Wow, look at you, Mr. K-drama lead,” you teased, your voice light and casual despite the knot in your stomach. “Guess you’re going for that free ramen.”

“Hey, I told you I could pull,” Jake said, bumping your shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice the way your laugh didn’t quite reach your eyes.

The days leading up to Friday had been nothing short of torture. Jake was executing his part of the bet too well, and it was driving you insane. Love letters at Hanni’s dorm, her favorite snacks neatly placed on her desk, giving her his umbrella on a rainy day—he had perfected the role of the K-drama boyfriend. But why did it bother you so much? Was it the money you’d be losing in this bet… or was it something else entirely?

By the time Friday rolled around, you were desperate for some peace. Drama night with Jake was supposed to be your sanctuary, just the two of you like always. But as you anxiously watched the clock, waiting for him to show, a pit began to form in your stomach. Jake was never this late. After an hour of waiting, you finally gave up and started the show without him. He could catch up later.

The movie was almost over, and Jake still hadn’t shown up. You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. What’s his deal? That’s when your phone pinged with a notification. Your heart sank as you saw his name. He had just posted a photo.

You opened it, and there it was—a picture of Jake and Hanni studying together, looking cozy. She was smiling brightly, and Jake looked… happy. You scoffed, tossing your phone aside. “Whatever,” you muttered under your breath, but the tightness in your chest said otherwise.

Hugging your pillow closer, you tried to focus on the show playing in front of you. But your mind kept wandering, Jake and Hanni invading your thoughts. Deep down, you weren’t stupid—you knew what this feeling was. Jake wasn’t just your friend, and maybe he never had been.

Your mind drifted back to when you and Jake were younger. Two older boys had been teasing you for watching “chick flicks,” making you cry. Jake had stepped in, rolling up his sleeves and attempting to fight them off—though he ended up dragging you away before things escalated.

“They’re such assholes,” he had grumbled, checking you over to make sure you were okay.

“Jake! Don’t say that!” you had scolded, sniffling but still appalled.

“They deserve it. If it makes you feel any better, I like those movies. I don’t think they’re weird,” he had said, his voice softening.

Your tears had dried instantly, replaced by a wide grin as you grabbed his hands. “Really?! You do?!”

A faint blush had crept onto his cheeks, and he looked away. He didn’t actually like them, but he would never tell you that.

The memory made you laugh, but it only made the present sting more. Without realizing it, tears began to spill from your eyes, and soon you were crying into your pillow, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest.

You didn’t even hear the jingle of the doorknob as Jake walked in. He paused when he saw your slouched figure, quickly setting his bag down. “Hey, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I forgot it was drama night, and I got caught up—wait. Y/n?”

His voice softened when he noticed the way your shoulders shook, your quiet sobs filling the room. He rushed to your side, kneeling in front of you. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Look at me,” he said gently, tilting your chin up. His heart clenched at the sight of your tear-streaked face, your puffy eyes filled with sadness.

You tried to pull away, wiping at your cheeks. “How’s your little girlfriend?” you mumbled bitterly.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” Jake asked, confused.

“Hanni,” you snapped, your voice breaking. “The love of your life. The one you’ve been all over this week. The girl you ditched me for today.”

Jake winced, guilt flashing across his face. “Y/n, she’s not my—”

“And I just feel so stupid for feeling this way!” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I’m supposed to be happy for you, but all I feel is… resentful.”

Jake stared at you, his brows furrowed. “Y/n, what are you saying?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammered, your voice trembling. “I just wish I never made that stupid bet—”

You were cut off by the sudden press of Jake’s lips against yours. His hands cupped your face, pulling you close, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared. His lips moved against yours, soft yet urgent, as if he’d been holding back for years. You froze, but only for a second, before melting into the kiss, your hands gripping his shirt to steady yourself.

Jake pulled you even closer, his touch warm and grounding as the kiss deepened. His lips were slightly chapped, but they felt perfect against yours. The air around you buzzed with something electric and raw, a feeling neither of you could put into words.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Jake’s lips were swollen, his hair a little messy, and you were sure you looked just as wrecked.

“Well then…” you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yup,” Jake replied with a laugh, his eyes sparkling.

“That was—so you and Hanni aren’t a thing?” you asked, your voice laced with disbelief.

Jake chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Of course not. It was all a plan. I was just trying to make you jealous, but… I guess it backfired a little.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “You—absolute jerk!” you yelled, grabbing your pillow and smacking him with it.

“Hey! Wait! It was your idea, remember?” Jake said, holding his hands up in defense.

“What?” you demanded, pausing mid-swing.

“You told me to pull a girl using a K-drama cliché. And, well… I think I just did.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It all started on Tuesday a little bit after he asked Hanni out. Jake had been sitting in the library, staring blankly at his notebook, completely at a loss. The bet with you sounded simple enough in theory, but the thought of flirting with someone—anyone—that wasn’t you made his stomach churn. That’s when Hanni walked by, giving him a cheerful wave.

A lightbulb went off in Jake’s head. He waved her over, and she tilted her head curiously before walking over to his table.

“Hey, Jake! What’s up?” she asked, setting her books down.

“Hanni,” Jake said in a rush, his voice low, “I need your help. Like… seriously need your help.”

Hanni raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “What kind of help? Are you in trouble or something?”

“Not exactly.” Jake ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Okay, so… Y’Know how I kinda like asked you out and stuff… well, Y/n and I made this stupid bet that I could pull a girl using K-drama clichés, and now I’m completely screwed because…” He hesitated, looking down at the table. “Because the only person I actually care about is Y/n.”

Hanni blinked, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Ah. I figured you didn’t actually ask me out, but I see where this is going. You want to make Y/n jealous like the dramas, don’t you?”

Jake nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. I mean, I hate playing games like this, but I don’t know how else to get her to realize that I…” He trailed off, his ears turning red.

“That you’re in love with her?” Hanni finished, crossing her arms.

“Okay, wow. No need to just throw it out there like that,” Jake mumbled, his cheeks burning.

Hanni laughed. “Relax, Jake. It’s kind of obvious. So, what’s the plan?”

Jake perked up, relief flooding him. “Wait, you’ll help me?”

“Of course! This sounds fun,” she said with a grin. “Plus, I like Y/n. She’s cool. But don’t screw this up, okay?”

“Never,” Jake said firmly. “I just… need her to see me differently, you know?”

And so by Friday, Hanni could tell Jake was growing antsy. “Relax,” she said when he brought her a coffee as thanks for her help. “I saw Y/n watching us earlier. She looked very bothered.”

“You think so?” Jake asked nervously.

Hanni smirked. “Jake, I’m a girl. Trust me. She’s jealous. Now, go make your move before she starts overthinking everything.”

Jake hesitated. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Hanni rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. “Jake, please. The girl practically lights up every time you walk into the room. Just be honest with her, okay?”

Jake smiled at her, gratitude evident in his expression. “Thanks, Hanni. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him off.

And with that, Jake bolted out of the library, his heart pounding as he made his way to your place. It wasn’t until he saw you crying on the couch that he realized just how deeply he had gotten under your skin—and how much he needed to make things right.

In the end, Hanni was right. Honesty was all it took. And as he kissed you for the first time that night, he made a mental note to treat Hanni to a lifetime supply of snacks for helping him finally win the heart of the only girl he’d ever really wanted.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 2!

another week, another fic rec list, and another request to help us find this fic! please have a look and see if you recognise it <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a life for a life | icewhisper | 7.7k | T

The first time Ravi met Evan Buckley, he never got his name. He only knew him as the man who pulled him onto a firetruck during a tsunami before he jumped back into the water after his son. Five years later, in a collapsed building, it’s Buck who needs saving and Ravi gets a chance to return the favor. i love love love the idea of buck and ravi crossing paths during the tsunami, and this characterisation of ravi is brilliant!! oh how i miss the people's princess..

forever goodbye | withoutthetiger/@rewritetheending | 1.3k | GA

Everything has been blurry for a while, and Eddie begins to wonder whether he’ll ever see clearly again. It’s the tears, of course, ones he refuses to let fall, mostly because he thinks he deserves to carry the weight of them instead of giving himself any relief from the pain. He’d brought the tears with him to the front door when he’d mumbled one final goodbye to Ana, then blinked them away just long enough to watch Christopher set himself up with a puzzle at the coffee table. Now he’s back in the kitchen, barely able to focus on the mess around him even though it’s impossible to ignore. love is stored in (cleaning up the) kitchen <3 the pining is so good!!

he's thinkin' about me | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 4.6k | T

In which Buck wakes up with the ability/curse to hear everyone's thoughts around him. Which might be ok, if it weren't for Eddie suddenly calling him baby, but only when he doesn't speak. oh i LOVE a good mind reading fic and this hit the spot perfectly <3 petty bitch eddie my most beloved

i let my fingers do the walking | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 7.3k | E

Buck is good at jerking off. It’s a self-proclamation, obviously. There is no right or wrong way to get off. Buck just thinks, if there were to be a Masturbation Olympics one day, he would end up with the gold medal gleaming over his chest by the end of the tournament. this is hot and fluffy and funny and just the ultimate fic, really. so good!!

if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.8k | T

Now they’ve arrived at house number five, and Eddie finally snaps. “What is your problem?” He turns to Buck suddenly, interrupting Mariana mid-answer. She gapes at them, startled into silence, but neither of them are looking at her, so she takes a second to compose herself while watching Buck’s eyes go wide and his body twist towards Eddie. “What?” “You’re being difficult.” “No I’m not,” Buck argues immediately. outsider pov!! thinking about the poor poor real estate agent who has to deal with buckandeddie brings me joy and this fic is exactly why <3 such a good time! for me, that is. maybe not for mariana.

i'll meet you by the river, see how time it flows | fruitsdoesnotknow/@fruitsdontknow | 8.3k | T

Shoulders tense, Bobby sighs. “Alright, there’s no easy way to say this,” Bobby begins, and Buck immediately leans forward, face concerned as his hand shoots up. “No, Buck, I’m not dying or retiring,” Bobby reassures him, and Buck slowly lowers his hand. “We’ve been nominated by the Fire Chief to help support with a request from a documentary crew. All we know so far is they’re looking into how a regular fire station operates on a day-to-day basis, and they’ll be following us for a few weeks.” Bobby claps his hands together. “Questions?” Six hands all at once go up. “Let me rephrase, questions related to your duties as a firefighter?” Five hands go down. “Yes, Ravi?” “Does this mean we should get a station dog?” blanket rec for an author whose work i've been loving this week!! this was one of my favourites and an immediate bookmark. it made me laugh out loud several times and has the most delightful firefam dynamics <3 cannot recommend enough!

i've been starving myself, carving (skin until my bones are showing) | prettyboybuckley/@prettyboybuckley | 12.1k | M

Eddie is fine. He's absolutely, totally fine.  And if sometimes he doesn't eat, why would that be a problem? He's got a kid to feed and not enough money, and there is no way he's going to grovel to his parents so they'll help him. He doesn't need help, not theirs at least.  definitely heed the tags but this fic is brilliantly written and has such wonderful eddie characterisation <3

it comes and goes in waves | tabbytabbytabby/@tabbytabbytabby | 1.6k | T

Buck never had a problem with the dark. Then the tsunami happened, and somewhere along the way, the dark started to be something Buck feared. And with the dark, came the nightmares. the emotional hurt/comfort is so so good here!! angsty and gentle and soft and just <3

kept on swimming | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 12.1k | M

He just needs someone to know that he tried. He needs someone to acknowledge that—that he did everything he could, and—and he tried. He might’ve failed, but he tried. He tried, he tried, he tried, he tried— Eddie swallows and asks, “How many times?” Buck stares. He lived through it once; that’s normal. He lived through it twice; maybe a déjà-vu or a hallucination of some kind or even a premonition. But three times— It has to be a time loop. Surely. mind the tags but holy shit this is so so good. beautifully written, angsty but with a hopeful ending, i absolutely devoured it <3

lay your hands on me | vampirebuckley/@vampirebuckleyy | 2.7k | E

“There, perfectly relaxed, happy? Now will you drop it?” “Nope, I don’t believe you,” Buck says, slapping his hands on his knees and picking himself up off the couch. “C’mon, up,” Buck waves a hand at Eddie, reaching to grab his hand. Eddie lets his hand be tugged, but plants himself further in the couch. “What are you doing, Buck? I thought you wanted to watch this,” Eddie groans, looking up at Buck and the much too pleased look on his face. “I, am going to give you a massage,” Buck says through a grin, yanking Eddie off the couch despite his protests. so so good!! massage leading to sex is one of my favourite pipelines and i love how this depicts buck and eddie!!

new sensations | lamardeuse/@lamardeuse | 4.3k | E

“All I know is you're getting me worked up and you're going to leave me hanging – again,” Eddie growled, nipping at Buck's earlobe and soothing it with a tongue Buck had learned was extremely talented, and okay, he thought, maybe he could – no, no, he couldn't. hot and cute and so perfectly buddie <3 this was a reread and it gets better every time!

your body is my temple, let me lay at your altar | Kwills91/@kwills91 | 4.7k | E

Eddie is no stranger to feeling self-conscious. When he was a teenager, his body had grown at weird rates. Three months of having feet too big for his body had made him clumsy, people passing comments about clown shoes. Six months of his arms and legs being just a touch too long, staring at himself in the mirror feeling like a marionette puppet. That phase where his hair grew out instead of down and his nerdy younger sister had snorted and told him looked like a hobbit–it didn’t help that there had been some crossover between that and the big feet phase. It’s been so long, Eddie had forgotten what it felt like–the shame that comes with looking in the mirror and wishing a different reflection were staring back. He’s happy, is the thing. He’s happy, so he’s not supposed to be feeling like this. loved reading this so very much <3 body worship buddie hits so hard in the best way possible, and this is a perfect example of that!

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #3: The Big 2-0

It’s the day of my and Chantal’s birthday party and our dads are helping us set up. We kept it small, just family and close friends. Of course, Paul is coming, too; we’re not super close, but he does live here so it’s only fair to invite him. Plus with Lucy here he won’t feel too out of place.

Pops takes a look around the grounds. “I’ve got to say, I really enjoy it out here. It’s so peaceful. What do you say, David? Can’t you picture us living off the land?”

“Oh yeah, scooping up goat shit is what I’ve always dreamed of.” Dad smirks. 

“Dad wouldn’t last a day here!” Chantal laughs. 

“I guess we’ll stick to visiting, then,” Pops concedes. “Ah, here come Cece and Ben!”

“Happy birthday!” Cece calls out and she gives us both hugs. “How does it feel to be 20?”

“It’s awesome! I finally feel like a real adult!” Chantal replies. Even though we’re twins, sometimes I feel like Chantal is my older sister–technically she is, I guess, by a couple of minutes. She’s always been more put together, more mature, more goal-oriented.

Even though I’ve been doing a lot more planning for my future, a lot of the time I still feel like a kid cosplaying as a grownup. I keep waiting for the day everyone realizes I don’t actually know what I’m doing.

“Not me,” I say. “I still feel like I have a lot of growing up to do.”

“You do,” Dad responds.

“Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” he laughs. “You don’t suddenly become an adult one day and have it all figured out.”

“You’ll learn and grow, and make mistakes, and learn some more,” Pops adds. “Just like we all will.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not the only one,” I say.

“So, Cece, have you and Ben picked a wedding date yet?” Chantal asks.

Cece groans. “Ugh, not yet. I don’t even know when I’ll have the time to plan anything. We’re going to be traveling so much with the band this year. I don’t want to be engaged forever, but we might have to wait until things slow down.”

“Well, I’ll help out however I can,” Chantal offers. “You know how much I love planning things.”

“Paul’s sister-in-law is an event planner,” I chime in. “Maybe you can hire her, or she can give you some information on vendors and stuff.”

“Thanks, guys,” Cece says. “I need all the help I can get. It’s just so overwhelming.”

“I told you, we don’t have to do anything big,” Ben tells her, rubbing her shoulder. “I don’t think you’d want that, anyway. As long as I get to be your husband, I’m cool with whatever.”

“I know, but I want to do something. Maybe we could have a small ceremony before we leave so we don’t have to put it off.”

“Sounds good to me!” Ben agrees. 

“What are you planning on doing about your last name?” Dad asks her. “You’re already double-barreled, so I’m assuming you won’t be taking on a third.”

“Well, I was planning on leaving it as it is. Ben doesn’t care if I take his and we won’t be having kids, so no need to worry about that.”

“That’s a good plan.” Dad sighs. “You know I support your decision to remain childfree, but it is a shame to think that my family name won’t be passed on.”

“I’m sorry, David,” Pops tells him. “I’m not really attached to my surname, but I know how important your heritage and your family are to you.”

“It’s okay. I have 3 beautiful children, a soon-to-be son-in-law, and a loving husband. I’m blessed no matter what their names are.”

I think about my own name. Like my Pops, I’ve never really felt attached to my last name. I was so young when my mom got married that I barely remember her being an Ayers. Besides, now that I'm no longer speaking to her, I feel even less connected to her side of the family.

Destiny and Trinity were both given their fathers’ surnames, and Chantal plans to change hers whenever she gets married. I guess I can pass the Ayers name down to my kids, but do I even want that? I guess that’s not something I have to think about quite yet.

Right now, the most pressing issue on my mind is when we're going to cut the cake.

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