#I'm happy to see you every single time Ray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sebscore · 1 year

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gen z!reader is this sweet, bubbly, bright ray of sunshine who could honestly do no wrong, so I'd love to see a fic where in a driver's meeting gen z!reader loses their shit and calls out the FIA for their blatant sexism and misogyny in front of everyone and everyone is shocked cause they've never seen them gets this mad before.

NO ONE LIKES A MAD WOMAN

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader (+ cameos from brundle, susie and buxton)

warnings: sexism. fia is fia'ing. swearing. my own unaccurate ruling of penalties (it's for the sake of the story, just go along with it). susie mothering. it wasn't sure to me who conducted the driver's briefing during this time so I just picked a random name from the many that I came across.

author's note: less comedic one this time, hope you enjoy it anyway!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Alright, thanks for clarifying, Checo.'' Derek concluded, glancing down at his journal to see what the next topic of discussion was.

The director scratched his voice before addressing the drivers again. ''Uhm, we also wanted to remind everyone to be wary of what they say in the media regarding our organization,'' he stated, ''the FIA has the feeling that there have been deliberate attacks on them the last few weeks and they are willing to give out penalties if it happens again.''

The drivers looked at each other, confused by the sudden declaration that the FIA has been receiving ''attacks'' from the drivers. ''Can you give an example, because I think I speak for everyone when I say that I'm confused.'' George spoke up, the others nodding along to his question.

Derek flipped through his papers, trying to find the notes his colleagues had given him regarding the ''offensive'' comments that had been made against them.

''Oh, here,'' he put on his reading glasses, holding the piece of paper farther from his face, ''the comment they're referring to was one made by… Y/N at the previous race.''

The young woman's head sprung up at the mention of her name, clueless as to how she could have upset the FIA. ''What? W-what did I say?'' She managed to stutter out, all the eyes on her making her feel uneasy.

''Uh, you were asked about the diversity in the sport and you said, and I quote: 'The FIA should do more regarding women in motorsport, there are still many things that need to be changed.' End quote.'' Derek answered her, putting his paper back in place.

Y/N frowned at the man. ''I don't see what's wrong with that, to be honest.'' She told him, failing to see how the FIA would feel this was a ''deliberate attack''.

The director sighed, already getting the suspicion the woman would not be happy with what he was about to say. ''Certain members of the board were offended by your words, because they saw it as you accusing them of being sexist.''

The silence in the room was deafening, every single person awaiting Y/N's reaction to Derek's clarification. The drivers took a glimpse at her, trying to read the indifferent expression on her face that didn't give much away about how she was feeling.

''They think I'm accusing them of being sexist? What I meant was that they should take more actions in encouraging young girls to get into racing- I don't understand how that would correlate to me calling them sexist.'' Her usual cheerful tone was replaced by a monotone voice that almost scared some of her colleagues.

Derek took a deep breath again. ''Well, they felt like you were insinuating it and they are offended by the alleged insinuation.''

''Just because they are offended doesn't mean they're right.'' She bit back, not missing a beat.

''I'm simply delivering their message, Y/N,'' the director told her politely, wanting to remind her that he's not the person she should be upset with, ''anyway- if you go up there and apologize for your comment, they're considering leaving it as a warning for you and also the others.'' He finished the list of notes they had given him.

The reaction from the room wasn't one he was expecting; absolute outrage.

''She shouldn't apologize for that neither should she be penalized for it.'' Sebastian was the first one to speak up, directly looking Derek in the eye.

The drivers agreed. ''Yeah, it's called freedom of speech.'' Max added, also not seeing why Y/N should go down there and say sorry to the members of the board.

''Like I said earlier, I'm simply delivering their message.'' Derek repeated himself, feeling the tension and frustration growing in the small space.

''But don't you see how ridiculous this is?'' Sebastian rebutted, hoping the man at the front could at least agree with them and say that it was indeed a weird request.

Derek shook his head. ''I'm just the middle man, Seb,'' he sighed, turning his head towards the quiet female driver, ''Y/N, make it easier for yourself and go up there after the meeting, you don't want to receive a penalty for something like this.''

''I'm not apologizing.'' Her voice comes out strong, not in an aggressive way, but in a manner that lets everyone know she's not backing down. ''Give me as many penalties as you want, I'm not accepting them.'' She crossed her arms, indicating she was sticking to her words, almost stubbornly.

The other drivers looked on proudly, glad she was standing by her belief and didn't give in simply because it would make everything ''easier''. Lewis gave her a nod, subtly letting her know he supported her and had her back.

''Alright, then that will result in a fine of a number that is yet to be determined.'' Derek picked up his pen and wrote down that she would not come by their office, already knowing his colleagues wouldn't be happy with it.

''Just so you know- I'm not paying that.'' Y/N said, matter-of-factly.

Derek looked up from his journal. ''If you refuse to pay the fine, we can either add a grid-place penalty or a time penalty.'' He recited the rule as if he had done it a million times before.

''Derek, this is stupid,'' Kimi decided to voice his opinion, ''the race shouldn't be affected, because of a comment she made that had nothing to do with racing in the first place.'' He defended her, allying behind her stance to not accept any of the penalties they give her.

''I'm just doing my job, Kimi.''

''I also want to just do my job, Derek, which is racing, but these ridiculous rules to silence me prevent me from doing that.'' Y/N argued his response, just wanting him to see her point of view.

The director's hand went over his face, seemingly wiping his agitation away. ''No one is trying to silence you, Y/N.'' He quickly answered.

''That's why all the other drivers receive penalties whenever they question the FIA, right?'' Her comment must have shut him up as he solely put his pen down without saying another word about the matter. ''Yeah, that's what I thought.''

Y/N felt her presence wasn't longer necessary as she stood up from her chair, ready to leave the room and join her engineering team in preparation for the upcoming race. However, Derek felt different about that. ''The briefing isn't over yet, Y/L. Sit back down, please.''

''I'll see you at the next meeting, Derek.'' She ignored his plea and walked towards the door.

The director stood up from his desk at the front. ''Y/N, if you leave before it's done, the board will-''

''The board can kiss my ass.''

''Y/N Y/L RECEIVES A 20-PLACE GRID PENALTY AHEAD OF THE 2021 SPANISH GRAND PRIX DUE TO DAMAGING REMARKS AGAINST THE FIA''

''FIA RE-EVALUATING Y/N Y/N's PENALTY AFTER BACKLASH''

''FIA SUSPENDS GRID PENALTY OF Y/N Y/L DUE TO AN ERROR''

The day after the driver's briefing had been quite eventful to say the least. As soon as the FIA announced that she had been given a penalty, the backlash from drivers, fans and reporters started.

Lewis had condemned their decision claiming it was based on nothing and that nothing about her comment was an attack on the organization. His teammate, Valtteri, followed him in his opinion stating: ''Drivers should be able to say what they want to say, she doesn't deserve a penalty for that.''

Sky Sports F1 reporter, Martin Brundle, also came to the driver's defense. ''If we're going to punish drivers for stating their opinions, we might as well get rid of the entire sport, especially if what they're saying isn't far from the truth.''

After finishing P5 in the race, Y/N spoke to Will Buxton in her post-race interview. ''You must be very happy with your result today, considering you almost had to start from the very back of the grid.''

''I'm content with today's race, obviously would have loved a podium but Mercedes was better today,'' she chuckled, ''yeah, it wasn't fun waking up to that news, but I'm happy that it was reversed and the support I received was just- wow, I'm very grateful for everyone.''

''According to some sources, it got pretty heated in the driver's briefing on friday- would you like to clarify?'' Will asked her.

A sarcastic laugh left her mouth. ''I would just like to forget about it, moving on is the best thing to do right now.'' She smoothly avoided the question, figuring she shouldn't make the FIA more mad by airing out all their business.

''Alright, thank you so much for talking to us, Y/N and congratulations on your race today.'' He nodded, bidding her goodbye.

On her way back to her team's hospitality, she was stopped by none other than Susie Wolff. ''Lewis told us what happened during the briefing- I'm very proud of you for standing up for yourself, not everyone could have done that.''

''It was so awful, Susie,'' Y/N hugged the older woman, ''it's like they just wanted to give me some sort of punishment- I don't even want to know what would have happened if I went down there by myself.'' Susie rubs her back at her words, also not wanting to think about what could have gone down.

''It's okay now, honey,'' they pulled apart, Susie's hand staying on her shoulder, ''by the way- did you really say that the board could kiss your ass?''

Y/N laughed at her question, excitedly nodding her head. ''At first I wanted to say something like 'the board can stick that penalty right up their ass’ but I needed a cool getaway so I opted for something shorter.''

''Atta girl''

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#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #f1!drivers x fem!driver #f1 female driver #female f1 driver #formula one fics #formula 1 oc

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So dada started making you little trinkets.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re mistaken.”

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

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

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

“Baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, it’s on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

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

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

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

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

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

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

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

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did.

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

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

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

But she was wrong.

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

Losing. It was all about losing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had gone slack in his arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had died in his arms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought you weren’t loved.

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

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

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

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

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

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

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

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

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

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

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

“Neteyam—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

It would never fly again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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happy74827 · 5 months

Text

Bittersweet Blunders

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: In what was supposed to be the "perfect date" turns into an absolute dumpster fire of a night. Fortunately for Mike, you couldn't care at all about it.

WC: 4295

Category: Mega Fluff

So it seems that a lot of people like my Mike fics (yay), so I wrote another one because why not. At this point, my entire masterlist will just consist of this man, and I'm 100% here for it. Also, I don't know why fluff is the hardest for me to write, but this is my attempt at a full-on cuteness overload without a drop of angst (I apparently live for the drama), so we'll see how this goes.

『••✎••』

You were a very bubbly, cheerful person. You always thought that it was one of the best qualities that someone could have, and while it wasn't always the case, it always helped you in the past to brighten up anyone's day, as well as the other way around. You were always the life of the party, and you'd always make sure that everyone had a great time whenever you were with them.

It was probably one of the reasons Mike had liked you so much, though it had taken him quite some time to admit it to himself. He didn't want to believe it at first; after all, Mike was usually the guy who kept his feelings in, but as time went on, he couldn't keep denying the fact that he liked your presence and always wanted to be around you.

For him, you were a ray of sunshine in his otherwise very dull life. Sure, Abby had been a joy, and still is, but you... you were just special in a way that Mike couldn't explain. You had a certain quality about you that he couldn't describe, and he's never been able to figure out what it is that made you stand out so much to him. You were the complete opposite of him. His black clothes, your bright smile. His gloominess, your cheerfulness. His silence, your bubbly voice. His abrasive demeanor, your kind words.

Even though you were completely opposite of him in personality, there was one thing that you both shared in common. You were both attracted to each other in a way that you couldn't explain, even to yourself. But it was a feeling that you were sure of, and the fact that you're finally together made you realize why.

When he had started dating you, it had been like the clouds parted for him. The sky cleared up, and everything felt right again. He felt like his life was finally stitching itself back together, and suddenly, he and Abby were a lot closer, too. It was almost like a weight was lifted off of his chest, and he was finally able to breathe again.

Your relationship was very new to him, as you were the first relationship he'd ever had. But now that you were with him, he wouldn't have it any other way. You were just... you. You made him happy in a way that no one else had, and he was determined to make sure that you felt the same way.

Of course, you felt the same way.

For you, Mike was your best friend. He had been the one person who'd been able to make you smile in your worst moments. He was always there when you needed him, and you'd always made sure to do the same thing for him. He was your ray of sunshine despite him not acting much like one. You loved the little things that made him tick, like his strange fascination with coffee and the fact that he always had a blanket in the car with him, just in case he was tired or cold. It made him feel like home to you.

And it was exactly how Mike felt with you, too, obviously for different reasons, of course, but all the same. He loved every single thing about you, no matter what. Your personality, your voice, even the way you walk, he loved every single bit of it. The first time you two had kissed, it was almost as though fireworks were going off all around you both, and Mike could've sworn he heard angels sing as well.

You were a ray of sunshine to him, and now that you were in his life, he couldn't see himself without you. He loved you more than he could say, and he was determined to show that to you, always.

That's why he decided he would take the day off of work to plan out the perfect date for you two. He didn't know exactly what you were into; you always seemed to be good with anything, but he knew he had to try and do something nice. After all, you were worth it. You were the most special person in his life, second to Abby, of course, but special just the same.

So he set off to find you a nice place to have dinner, a thing neither one of you had done since the start of the relationship. You had usually just eaten at his place or gone somewhere that served coffee (somewhere more in Mike's price range), but he wanted something a bit fancier; after all, today was special, and he saved up enough to make it happen. He wanted you to have a nice day out, just like you always did for him whenever he had a bad day.

He eventually found you a place, a fancy Italian restaurant that he thought you would like, and made reservations for a place with a nice view of the sunset, just so you could watch it with him. It was going to be a great night.

Of course, it had been the complete opposite of what Mike had thought it would be. Two hours before the planned evening, the person covering his job for him just had to cancel on him at the last minute, leaving him to panic. He hadn't told you the surprise for the evening at all, so he had to make several, several calls just to find a replacement for his job and then to find a babysitter for Abby. Max... Well, Max wasn't around much anymore, and since you were the usual babysitter for Abby, it took Mike a while to find someone who was available, and even when he did, it took nearly twenty minutes for them to show up.

But he got it fixed and done in good time. His car was a little bit messy, and his "nice" shirt might have been a little wrinkly for the occasion, but to see the smile on your face when you got to his car made it worth it.

"You're wearing a tie," you commented, your face full of surprise as you hopped inside

"What can I say? It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing," Mike replied, turning the ignition and starting the car. He looked back at you, the smile on your face making his heart flutter just as much as it had the first time he'd laid his eyes on you. "Did I, um... You look great."

You were wearing a very nice dress, something that Mike had always loved on you, and it fit you very well. It was a light pink color, with a flowy skirt and a short-sleeved top, but it complimented you so well that he wondered why he hadn't seen it on you before. It made you look stunning, in his opinion.

"Thanks," you replied. "You look pretty handsome yourself, Mikey."

Oh, how he loved that nickname. It was one of the few things that Mike loved hearing you call him, even if it was in a joking matter. It made him feel special when he heard it, like you were just so happy to be around him that it was just another way of saying so. He smiled as he pulled out of the driveway, the engine rumbling below his feet. "So, you hungry?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, "I could totally eat."

Mike smiled. "Good ‘cause I found us the most amazing Italian restaurant, and I think you'll love it,"

Mike was right, of course. You did love it. The atmosphere was perfect, and the scenery was divine, with the sun setting in the distance and the colors it created splashed across the sky. Mike had even thought ahead to get a table right next to the window to give you the perfect view. Unfortunately, the sight from the entrance was the only view you got to see.

When it got to the hostess, it turned out that they had accidentally given his reservation to a family with four kids, and you and Mike were now stuck in between a large family with several children and the bathroom. The food had already been ordered and delivered to your table, but you didn't even get a chance to start your meal before you heard the sounds of a crying baby. And when you looked up, you were faced with a crying child who seemed to be a year or so younger than Abby, sitting on the table in front of you.

You tried to ignore it at first, hoping that they would fall asleep and stop crying, but the baby didn't seem to be willing to stop any time soon, and it seemed you weren't the only one who was annoyed by it. You glanced over at Mike and you realized that he looked about one second away from punching the baby and throwing it across the restaurant.

You decided to take action before he could do that.

"How's... uh, work going?" You asked, trying to make conversation as you sat up a little bit straighter and began to wipe your fingers clean, preparing yourself for whatever came next.

Mike didn't answer, instead choosing to grunt.

You decided to try and lighten the mood just a little bit. "It can't be that bad. You're still alive."

Just as the words left your mouth, the baby started crying even louder. You looked over at the family that was sitting in front of you and noticed that none of them looked like they were planning to do anything about it. Great parenting

"That baby might not be," he grumbled, not even bothering to keep his voice down anymore. "Even Abby and her tantrums don't make me want to run into traffic, and they're on a whole other level,"

"A crying child is not going to make you run into traffic, Mike," you replied.

"It might," he argued. "I might."

You laughed, shaking your head at the man sitting in front of you. "Have you always been this dramatic?"

Mike was quiet for a moment before shrugging and letting out a sigh. His annoyance allowed you to take a look at his features for a moment, something you hadn't really done for a while. Usually, when you two hung out, he was always so busy that you didn't really get to notice the difference in expression and stance he would usually have, but now that you were finally able to look at him, you noticed a slight change in him. He looked... tired, you'd say. Tired, but at the same time, happier than he usually was. You couldn't exactly tell how he was feeling at the time, probably complete annoyance because of the crying baby, but he did look like he was smiling just a bit more than usual.

And you loved seeing it. You loved seeing him happy, even if it wasn't the happiest situation that you two could've been in. You still wanted to see his smile, and you couldn't help but smile yourself at how happy he looked when he was around you, even with all the surrounding annoyance.

"Do you remember," you began, "when we first started dating? You were so nervous, and you were scared that you were gonna mess it up, and I said to you that there was no way you could ever do that, right?"

"I mean, it's not like you were lying," he shrugged, leaning back against his chair, picking up a glass of water, and taking a small sip. "I was a mess."

"Well, you still are a mess, a hot one but still... you got over it, didn't you?" You smiled.

Mike paused for a moment, placing his glass down on the table again. He was silent before he glanced up at you. His eyes were wide, and he almost looked... stunned. He was definitely surprised.

"It's not rhetorical, Mikey, but I'm going to take that as a yes," you continued.

"That was... that was different," he said.

"Well, yeah, of course it was," you replied. "That was a few months ago. Now it's a crying baby who you believe is ruining your life,"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, clearly annoyed by the whole thing. You knew that he wasn't actually upset; however, if he were, you'd have felt him shift in his seat like he always did when he felt uncomfortable or uncomfortable. But he hadn't moved a single bit. He wasn't even fidgeting. He just sat there and kept staring at you.

Mike never said anything, though, and neither did you. You just kept staring at each other, even when the baby eventually stopped crying. For a moment, there was peace, a sort of silent bliss that you couldn't exactly explain, and then the peace was suddenly ruined again.

Mike had wanted a refill of his drink, and when the waiter returned with a pitcher and many other drinks from various tables, the serving plate somehow made its way down Mike's shirt and all over his clothes, the various liquids from water to alcohol all splattered on his clothes. And Mike? Mike didn't even flinch. He closed his eyes and sighed, gritting his teeth and tensing up a bit, and you saw that he was clenching the sides of his chair with his hands, but otherwise, he didn't make any other movements, no reaction at all. Then, to make matters worse, the baby started crying again.

Mike and you both stared at each other again, your eyes wide and your mouths slightly parted. You knew exactly how Mike was feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to do something about it, but you didn't know what to do.

"Mike, do you—" you began, feeling really bad for him.

"I need to... go to the bathroom," he interrupted you, and you nodded in response. He stood up from his seat, walked around you and the other family, and then headed towards the bathroom. You were left to sit in your seat, staring at the family in front of you as they ate and chatted amongst themselves. You didn't say anything, but you weren't exactly happy with what was happening, either.

You glanced over to the bathroom door, hoping that Mike would come out of there soon so you could ask him if he was okay, but you were unable to leave. The waiter came back a few minutes later with a towel to help Mike clean off the liquid from his clothes, and once he had it in hand, you found the strength to leave your seat and follow Mike into the bathroom.

You didn't step inside, however, instead choosing to lean against the wall by the entrance. The bathroom was a lot emptier than the restaurant was, and it seemed a lot quieter, too, the only sound that you could hear coming from the faucet by the sinks. You stared at the door for a moment, just a moment, before calling out to the man inside.

"Mike, are you okay in there?"

It took Mike a moment to respond to you. "Uh... Yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine," you replied.

"Well, I am," he replied. He sounded annoyed.

"You don't sound like it," you commented.

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

You paused for a moment, glancing around the room as you thought of a response. You decided to just tell him what was on your mind. "Do you want to leave? We can go."

You heard the bathroom door open, and Mike stepped out from it, standing in front of you, his eyes staring straight at your own. He was soaked despite all the paper towels he must've used to dry himself off. You handed him the small towel you'd been handed, and he took it from you with a small nod. He ran it through his shirt and thighs for a moment before looking at you.

"You sure?" He asked with a pinch of hesitation in his voice. He looked nervous. No, he didn't look nervous. He looked... guilty. His eyes were sad, and he seemed worried about something. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words.

You had a feeling what was going on in his mind, so you just took the lead for him. With a smile, you both returned to your seat momentarily to pay the bill and tip the waiter before making your way out to the parking lot. You climbed into the car, and Mike started the engine. He still had a very noticeable frown on his face as he turned to you.

"It looks like it's going to be a great night," he sighed, letting out a heavy sigh. His eyes shifted upwards to the clouds, and you noticed the very visible storm that was brewing in them. "Sorry. I guess I just... It didn't go the way I thought it would."

"It's still early," you replied, placing your hand over his. He looked back at you with wide eyes, clearly not expecting you to be as calm as you were. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand gently. "And I have the perfect idea of what we could do."

He raised a brow at you, his eyes suddenly looking curious. The frown was gone now and replaced with a small, barely visible smile. You had to resist the urge to hug him right then and there.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"You'll find out when we get there," you whispered and smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Just listen to my directions. I'll be your personal navigator."

Your navigator skills were definitely off the charts that night, and even you were surprised you didn't get lost. You made some accidental wrong turns and had to double back once or twice, but other than that, you were able to get you and Mike to your destination just fine. The night sky was still covered with clouds, and there was a very faint sound of thunder in the distance, but you figured you had at least a good hour or so.

The view, though. You couldn't have picked a better spot to have. There was a tree right next to a small, grassy hill that you sat at, the only place where Mike and you could be comfortable while you stared up at the sky. You had Mike's emergency blanket, and he had his hoodie (that might have smelt like utter hell, but he refused to wear anything else after the incident earlier that night), and the stars. It was like the clouds had separated just to show you the beauty of the night sky, and the two of you were lucky enough to witness it. The sun was long gone, and the moon was peeking out from behind the clouds, its bright glow casting a shimmering reflection onto the grass below. It was a moment that you'd never forget.

"How's the date going so far now?" You asked Mike with a smile as you sat next to him. "Think this is an improvement?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe I should stop planning the dates, and let you plan them from now on."

You smiled at him. "I like it when you plan the dates, Mike."

He frowned for a moment, but the look on his face suggested otherwise. "Really? Because there had been not one good one in the past... I dunno, two years? Even when we were still trying to work out the friendship to the relationship thing."

You shrugged, moving closer to him. "What can I say? I like the surprises, and you never were that spontaneous on your own."

"Is that what you like about me?" He asked. "My non-spontaneity?"

You glanced up at him, smiling as you took in his features again. You loved looking at him. He was handsome. And you loved the look in his eyes. They were filled with adoration, and they were looking straight into yours. He leaned down a bit and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You have other qualities, too," you replied. “Good ones.”

"Like what?" He asked, his lips ghosting over your skin as he spoke.

"You make a great cup of coffee," you began, letting out a small giggle as he continued to kiss your forehead, moving slowly down towards your jaw. "And you're good at taking care of Abby. You can be funny if you try hard enough, and you're really cute when you smile."

Mike moved down towards your ear, gently nibbling on the lobe. His breath fanned over your skin, and you couldn't help but lean into him just a little. His hand slipped under your chin and gently pulled your head up, forcing your lips to meet with his in a soft kiss.

The first kiss was always special, in Mike's opinion. You were always so soft, so gentle, but also so firm, so loving. It was one of his favorite feelings, and he was so lucky to have you in his life, he couldn't believe it.

When you pulled away from the kiss, you didn't move too far away from him, resting your head against his shoulder instead. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and he leaned his head against yours, his hand resting gently on your knee as you both gazed at the moonlit sky.

"Mikey?" You asked after a moment, your voice soft and gentle as you spoke. You felt his head move in response, and you felt him take in a deep breath.

"Yeah?" He asked.

You looked up at him, smiling as you did. "I think this is our best one yet."

He didn't say anything for a moment. He stared down at you with his usual blank expression, but after a few seconds, the corners of his lips quirked up, and he was finally able to break out into a smile, one that was so much brighter than the one that he had earlier.

He kissed you again, and you couldn't help but melt into the kiss. Your hands went to his shoulders, and his hands wrapped themselves around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You never wanted to leave his side.

You loss track of time from there. You both were lost in the moment, in the stars, in the blanket, in each other, and before either of you knew it, you felt the slight raindrops pelt against your skin, and the wind was growing stronger. Your hair whipped in front of your face, and smacked Mike in the cheek, but he didn't seem to care much, too caught up in kissing you.

You eventually pulled away, looking at the man in front of you. "We should... we should get going. You brought the umbrella, right?”

“Yeah, it’s right here," Mike nodded, grabbing it from the other end of the blanket and placing it above the two of you as the raindrops grew heavier. The thunder was louder now, but you and Mike were far too engrossed with each other to really notice it.

At least, not until tragedy struck when he went to pull up the blanket. One big strum of thunder and a burst of wind from above caused Mike to lose his grip on the umbrella, which went flying through the air and out of his grasp. You both watched it as it soared in the air, almost like you were in a daze, and then you realized the horrible thing that had happened.

The umbrella was gone. You and Mike were in the rain, and there was nothing around you to provide you any sort of protection from the downpour. The blanket was soaked within seconds, as were the two of you.

Well, technically, Mike already was.

Mike's smile had disappeared from his face when the umbrella had flown away, and now his frown had returned, only this time, it was quite humorous. He was absolutely dumbstruck, and he was just staring at the umbrella as it flew away into the night. You tried to hold back your laughter, but it was difficult, especially with the look on Mike's face.

“Great. Just great," he grumbled, grabbing your arm while making his way back towards the car. "That's just the icing on the cake."

“It’s like we’re in a rom-com," you commented as you followed him, laughing even more. "You're the oblivious man, I'm the funny girl who helps you figure out your feelings. It’s the climax of the movie, we're both drenched, and then we kiss in the rain,"

Mike glared at you, but the look was not genuine. You could tell, and it only made you laugh even more. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get to the car."

The two of you ran towards the car, and Mike jumped inside the driver's seat. You quickly got into the passenger's side before the door shut closed, and you let out a sigh of relief. You took a moment to catch your breath, and then you turned to Mike, a smile playing on your lips.

“Just so you know, those are my favorite type of rom-coms.”

Mike rolled his eyes. "And just so you know, I hate rom-coms."

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, letting out a soft giggle. "Better buckle up then, Romeo. After we find a towel and get home, we're watching the best rom-com of all time."

He rolled his eyes again, but you could tell that the small smile on his lips was genuine this time. "Let's just go before the car floods,"

You smiled, leaning back in your seat. "Sounds good, honey.”

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jinkicake · 1 year

Note

I just went nuts reading all your arranged marriage tropes, they're so fucking good!! Would you ever write one for Xiao?

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope

Xiao x Reader

A/N: OMGG Thank you!!!!! I'm glad you like them hehe,, YES I WOULD!!! I did write one for Xiao and here it is as a 'happy birthday xiao' post!!! He's my special triple-crowned ray of sunshine!!!!

WC - 1,313

~~~

“I’m going to the harbor today-” With half of your body out the front door, it completely shocks you to see the yaksha teleport from his place at the table to stand in front of you outside.

“No.” The firm rebuttal is all Xiao settles for and he can tell that it doesn’t satisfy you in the least.

“No?” You push back, purposely closing the front door behind you as you step outside with your husband. Now, you’re almost entirely pressed up against his chest and pinned back against the wooden door. Deep down, you wish this had some effect on him but you know it does not.

In the handful of months you have been married to the immortal, you’ve discovered just how reserved he is. Xiao never lets his guard down around you, never lets himself falter in any sense of the way. He always appears to be looking past you instead of at you.

“I’m busy today,” His voice is soft, almost too quiet as it barely reaches your ears.

“I can find my own way there. I’ve done it before,” Your attempt at offering him a reassuring smile is pathetic, your lips quiver into a frown. “I will be back before sunset.”

“Sunset,” Xiao repeats and you watch as he glances up at the sun rising into the sky. By your own guess, you still have over half a day until the sun descends once again. He looks confused with the idea and internally thinks about it as his brows furrow together.

Patiently you wait until he steps to the side, moving out of your way.

You nearly cheer at the victory and skip all the way to the harbor.

“Wait.” Xiao tightly grabs your wrist, underneath the fabric of your loose top. The feeling of his gloved hand against your bare skin is hot, it practically burns you. Your husband hands you your basket with a remorseful look toward the ground.

You’re used to Xiao always looking like that, pitiful.

Regardless, you brave him one more reassuring smile (one he does not look at) before walking in the direction of the harbor. A path that you follow every month and safely execute every single time.

It’s a shame that today of all days, a group of hilichurls decided to camp on that path.

You meant to go around them and walk a different way home but, you were spotted before you could think. All you can remember is the handful of monsters running towards you, knocking you to the ground as your basket fell with a thump. All of its contents now spilled. The way that you landed was wrong and your ability to stay calm is nowhere to be seen. It’s embarrassing how quickly you give in to your husband’s demands of reaching out to him.

You can’t stop the way your heart yearns for him.

“Xiao,” Your call for the yaksha leaves your lips as a whisper, barely louder than the breeze rustling through the leaves. Still, it’s loud enough for the adeptus to hear and he appears before you within a second. You barely have time to blink but, there he is.

Xiao quickly looks around at the hilichurls surrounding you, his eyes zone in on the way you’re clutching your ankle. Anything after that fades into darkness as the edges of his vision turn white.

You watch, speechless, as his spear appears out of thin air and a heavy mask covers his face. Plunge after plunge, spears spurt out of the ground and knock the various monsters off of their feet. Horror starts to wash over you as you notice them falling limp to the ground but even then they’re still not safe from your husband’s wrath. Back and forth, he darts between their bodies and pierces them through his jade spear. Only when his anger is satiated, he finally stops.

Xiao’s chest rises and falls quickly, sucking in short breaths as he surveys the rest of the area around the two of you. He grimaces at the scene.

Your husband takes a step toward you, every fiber of his being begs to be near you but he doesn’t give in to that desire. Xiao spins on his heels and turns away from you, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he begins to walk further away. He can’t be around you like this, with the weight of his sins dragging him lower to the ground with each step that he takes.

You watch him pace quietly, you watch in silence. Never did you imagine that the adeptus cared for you so strongly, for him to lose control of himself in a fight like that. Calling what you saw a 'fight’ is an understatement. It was entirely one-sided, the hilichurls who made the grave mistake of passing you never stood a chance.

“Xiao,” You call out to him again and this time, your voice is louder than before. His pacing comes to an abrupt stop and he’s in front of you before you can even process it. The spear falls to the ground beside you as his hands go to grab your face. Unlike his earlier movements, his touch is now gentle. Xiao is entirely soft with you as he runs his hands down to your shoulders, cupping your bicep, before landing on your swollen ankle.

The grimace on his face only grows harder, eyebrows furrowed in worry as his lips press into a hard line. Before he gets the chance to apologize, you stop him.

“It’s okay, please don’t worry,” You’re wrong to ask this of him. How can he not worry about you? If only his friends could see him now.

The conqueror of demons bewitched by a mere mortal, a simple human. What would they think?

Xiao doesn’t care, he never would as he gently knocks his forehead against your own, his focus entirely on you.

It seems you don't understand him at all as you stare at him now. His breathing is still quick, chest rising up and down with each inhale.

"It's alright," You softly hover your hands over his wrists before wrapping your fingers around the limb. "I'm sorry for worrying you." Xiao looks as if he winces at your words, nose slightly twitching before his expression falls flat again. You're used to this emotionless look.

But, his eyes now seem softer. His eyes hold emotion that you didn't even know was possible. Genuine care, worry, it's all there. Who knew all you had to do was stare at him to understand his feelings?

"Be more careful next time," He tries to come off as harsh, words slightly nipping at your cheeks but you fight it off with a small smile. The tight hold he still has on you and the feeling of his close proximity make it hard to take his lecturing seriously. "I want you to stay safe."

If you could kiss him you would, you could easily do it right now. All it would take to complete the action would be a slight tilt of your head but, you refuse to take advantage of the situation. With Xiao still winded, you don't want to catch him off guard. But, that doesn't stop you from brushing your lips against his cheek. It's an innocent gesture that immediately makes his cheeks turn bright red as a blush dusts over his skin.

Xiao's eyebrows furrow together as he stares at you and he almost looks as if he is trying to shrink in on himself while he tries to fight off the blush. He heavily contemplates his next words before shyly looking at you, except, there is nothing that resembles timidness in his eyes.

It's entirely hunger and with a soft voice, he calls out to you (pleads with you).

"Do that again."

#xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x reader #arranged marriage #lol #part 5?

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benkeibear · 1 year

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ Breaking up with them

❖ Characters: various blue lock characters

❖ Reader: genderneutral

❖ Summary: Just small Drabbles based on songs about how you guys broke up and why

❖ WARNINGS: heartbreak, mentions of cheating at the first one

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | thank you @i-am-tiny-sun for helping me choose between songs!

It came out of nowhere, the both of you having a rather beautiful relationship, one that makes others jealous but the moment the words slipped past his lips your whole world crumbled. He cheated in a drunken haze at a party- a party you attended as well. He tried blaming it on the alcohol in his system and that it doesn't count because it didn't mean a single thing but to you it was clear, things would never be the same and you can't stay with him much longer after this. What if this wasn't a one time thing? It wasn't the first time he disappeared during those parties after all.

"We could blame it on our hands, they lifted the drink to our mouths so we drank it. Or we could blame it on our bodies - they say we like the way we feel when we get touched”

➸ Ryusei Shido, Oliver Aiku, Akira Endoji, Ryosuke Kira

Every time he came over, he never stayed the night and he made it clear from the very beginning that there won't be any feelings involved. Of course you agreed but somewhere after all the times you fell asleep in his arms you realized that this meant something to you, even though it shouldn't. His kisses linger on your skin but the warmth his body provided, doesn't linger much longer than the night lasts and is gone by the time the rays of sunshine flood your room. So one day without another word you blocked him and never opened the door, even when he showed up and begged to talk to you, his heart broken over not being with you anymore.

“Said I wouldn’t care if you walked away but every time you're there, I'm begging you to stay. Only love can hurt like this, your kisses burn into my skin”

➸ Rin Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Shoei Barou, Gin Gagamaru, Okuhito Iemon, Aryu Jyubei

Things were always so right but yet so wrong. The lack of time, the lack of touches, the lack of your partner being committed to the relationship. You knew you two belong together since it was always you against the world but the world slowly started to defeat the two of you. Days turned into weeks and none of you had the power to change anything, helplessly watching from the sidelines as your relationship slipped away like sand through your hands - slowly but inevitable. He might be your perfect match but it's just not the time for the both of you to be happy with each other so you decided to break things off… maybe in the future things will work better for you.

“When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. But if you loved me, why’d you leave me?”

➸ Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi, Reo Mikage, Rensuke Kunigami, Noel Noa

The relationship was straight out of a fairytale, flowers every friday, a kiss on the forehead in the morning and at night, a shared bond without words - something people would call eternal love. He made you feel like you're the most important person to exist, like you two could tear down everything that comes into your way. The nights you two spent inside, giggling about your future, thinking about how you'll name the kids and pets, designing your own little house - everything forgotten in the split of a second when he told you it's never been real to him, he just needed someone to warm his bed and you were perfect, too naive to see through all of his sweet talking.

“I don't want to waste away another cell on a memory when you're just another meaningless lover. Forget the nights we spent laughing ‘til the morning on your bedroom floor”

➸ Jingo Raichi, Jinpachi Ego, Alexis Ness, Wataru Kuon

Things were never perfect, but what relationship is perfect? Truth is that you both loved each other unconditionally, yes. You loved. It's the past. Date nights started becoming less and so did the mutual interest to spend time together, be it inside or going out together. It was as if you two just coexisted within each others spaces, the “good night, I love you” turned into “good night, love ya” and finally into “good night” and that's when it hit the both of you - there was a time where you loved each other but that time is long gone. The only right thing to do now is to let each other free, allowing the other to find love elsewhere and it was okay. You still valued what you once had.

“Let's just forget the things said and the autumn night when we realized we were falling out of love. So let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant to be”

➸ Gurimu Igarashi, Seishiro Nagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Ikki Niko, Tsurugi Zantetsu

Network: @tokyometronetwork

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huhjxn · 1 year

Text

eavesdrop part II

kim chaewon x fem!soloist!reader

chaewon realized her mistakes and now her mind is plagued with the thoughts of you. she wanted nothing more than to apologize for the damage she's done but it isn't as easy as it seems.

! : swearing, angst (with fluff), harassment, stranger danger, chaewon is sleep deprived

4.0k words

read part I here.

"I'm craving pork belly right now," you said as you looked at your best friend, Kim Sunwoo. "Dude, same. I dreamt of eating pork belly and kimchi last week and I've been craving since," he replied.

"I ate pork belly yesterday with Sooyoung unnie and Hyeju," Park Chaewon said with one of her eyebrows raised as though it was such a big deal. Actually, it really was for both you and Sunwoo.

"Wow, I don't mind you ganging up on me in PUBG but this?" Sunwoo said, rolling his eyes, "Traitor." Gowon smirked as she saw how you looked so betrayed, and continued raising her brow to further provoke you.

"She's so annoying, I swear to god," you said, turning to face Sunwoo, making sure to sound like a Regina George dupe, "Like that face that she makes? Chaewon seriously gets on my nerves every single time."

As a result, Gowon shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at you. You gave her a look that she always does, which made Sunwoo laugh.

Twisting and turning on her bed, a frustrated Chaewon finally sits up and grabs her phone from her nightstand. The glow of the screen was burning her eyes, partly because of its brightness and partly because it's 3:09 a.m. and she hasn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Yena's words kept echoing in her head together with the cruel words that she uttered to you which was accompanied by her bitchy actions.

To say that Chaewon felt guilty would be an understatement. It's been four days since Yena visited her in HYBE and she's been having a hard time sleeping, her mind replaying her encounter with you endlessly. She knew that she needed to make things right but how could she?

Chaewon remembered how she wanted nothing more than to apologize to you when she saw you at Music Bank two days ago. Seeing you stand there laughing with Gowon made her freeze; she watched how happy you looked, your eyes sparkling with joy, the smile on your lips were reaching your eyes, and your overall aura just looked so at ease. It was the complete opposite of you back when she confronted you in her dressing room. Chaewon also knew that if she interrupted you, that beautiful expression plastered on your face would leave faster than the speed of light.

She didn't want to do that; the expression that you wore made you look like a ray of sunshine, and Chaewon doesn't want to be the reason why thunderclouds would dull you up, even if she knows that she already plays that role in your life.

Looking back at her phone, Chaewon felt awful because she wanted to have a decent rest but the thoughts in her mind won't let her. Suddenly, she felt her stomach grumble. 'Well, I don't have anything better to do anyways,' she thought.

Chaewon got up from her bed and grabbed a stray hoodie from her desk chair, and got out of her room, making sure that she wouldn't make any sound. As she was about to go out, she heard footsteps shuffling behind her, "Are you going out?"

The short-haired girl turned around and was faced with their tallest member. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep," Chaewon said exasperatedly, "So I decided to go out and get food."

Yunjin nodded tiredly, rubbing her eyes, "Can you get me some chips too?"

Chaewon smiled at the girl before responding, "Of course, I'll be back in a bit," she said as she exited their dorm.

In all honesty, Chaewon had no idea what she wanted to eat. She is starving, yes, but the amount of thoughts that were already occupying her head was so much that she couldn't think of what to get despite seeing numerous convenience stores as she walked.

The girl decided to enter the next convenience store, knowing that she doesn't have enough energy to walk any longer. Grabbing the basket, she browsed the shelves and searched for the chips that she knew Yunjin liked.

While checking every aisle, Chaewon felt goosebumps all over her skin, which was somewhat unusual. She dismissed it because it was probably just because of the temperature. She then proceeded to grab a few snacks for Eunchae, and decided to settle for a packed meal that needed to be reheated at the counter.

As she was about to pay for her stuff, she could see a figure of a person by her peripheral vision, but decided to pay no mind to it. Besides, it's normal for sleep deprived people to buy at convenience stores at this time… right?

The girl handed her card to the cashier. After paying, the cashier left to microwave her food, so she decided to look behind her and just as she expected, the figure was gone. The cashier returned to the counter to hand her the food, which Chaewon grabbed with a small smile that reflected her exhaustion.

Chaewon left the store and opened her phone to send a quick text to Yunjin,

are you still up? i just left the store, i'm omw back

After hitting send, she placed her phone back in her pocket. It was still relatively dark, and most of the stores were still closed which meant that there were only a few sources of light on the street. Suddenly, she felt goosebumps once again and the unsettling feeling of someone staring at you. As she was about to look behind her, she felt a body collide with hers.

"Kim Chaewon," The girl felt her whole body freeze. She dreaded for something like this to happen, and she now regrets going out, "You're Kim Chaewon, right?" The strange man asked her, his hand on the girl's shoulder, hindering her from making any sudden movements.

She knew how risky it was to wander through the streets at this time, especially since she's alone. Chaewon could feel the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. 'This is all my fault,' she thought. For once since meeting Yena, her mind was occupied by something that wasn't you, but this frightened her. Nothing could ever prepare her for the danger that she's faced with right now.

Due to her lack of response, the man forcefully shook her, and that's when the tears ran down her cheeks, then suddenly, she heard a voice speak.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chaewon shut her eyes tightly, she felt the man shuffle behind her before he spoke, "Oh, I'm just talking with my girlfriend, we were just arguing but everything's fine and there's nothing here that concerns you."

Chaewon felt the man grip her shoulder tighter, which made her groan in pain, "Are you sure about that? She doesn't seem to be fine."

Suddenly, it clicked. Chaewon did her best to look behind her, and despite her blurry vision due to the tears filling her eyes, she was able to meet your worried pair of eyes. Then, it felt like everything happened in slow motion. Chaewon saw you clench your jaw before lunging towards the man and grabbing him by the collar.

"I swear to god," The short-haired girl shuddered at the calm yet threatening tone you used, "I may not look as strong, but I can definitely take a scrawny guy like you, so unless you want to end up with broken limbs, I suggest you to leave."

You felt immense anger as you stared into the man's eyes which was filled with both worry and annoyance. He tried to pull back, but your grip on his collar was too tight that your knuckles turned white. Suddenly, you let go of his collar which made him lose his balance and fell.

"Fucking bitch," you heard him mutter as he dust himself off then ran from the scene while you made sure to watch him leave. Chaewon stood there silently, not knowing what to do nor what to say. She was grateful for your help but now she doesn't know how to deal with you. With all the pent up stress both from the fears from her situation earlier and your presence, she felt herself cry harder that she couldn't contain the sobs that she let out.

Suddenly being aware of your surroundings once again, your eyes traveled to the girl and you could feel your heart break at the sight. "Chaewon sunbaenim," you said, unsurely. The said girl looked up to meet your eyes but all you could see was the pained expression that she wore. You opened your arms with uncertainty but all the hesitation washed away once the girl lunged forward and wrapped her arms around your waist in an embrace.

Chaewon could feel your arms wrap around her body tightly, and at that moment, she knew that she was safe. No one could hurt her. You were there.

"Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Should I call the cops?" You asked calmly, but the short-haired girl could hear the concern laced in your tone, and she couldn't help the fluttering of her heart accompanied by the warmth of her cheeks, "No," Chaewon answered weakly, "I'm fine, I just—"

Chaewon was interrupted by her own sobs. She felt embarrassed that you had to see her in such a state but the negative thought quickly left her mind as she felt your hand caress her hair and your other hand rub circles on her back, "Let's get you home, okay?"

You waited for the girl's response and you felt her nod. She untangled herself from your embrace and you couldn't help but miss the warmth that she provided. Chaewon started walking before you, and as she was about to reach for the food that she bought which were now on the floor, you held her hand and grabbed the bag with the other.

Chaewon looked up to your face but your eyes were already locked on hers, "Lead the way," you said with a small smile, and the girl could feel her heart explode.

The two of you walked in silence and Chaewon could feel your grip on her hand tightening every now and then as though reassuring her that you were there and that you wouldn't leave her side.

Eventually, you arrived at their dorm and Chaewon slowly unlocked the door before stepping in. "Chaewon unnie, what took you so long?" Yunjin asked before seeing you at their doorstep, "Oh, Y/N-nim, hi!"

You smiled in response as the taller girl ushered you into their apartment. "I was confronted by a stranger, but Y/N saved me from getting harassed," Chaewon said, the exhaustion in her voice was obvious even as she tried to hide it.

Yunjin's eyes widened at the revelation, but decided to drop the topic after getting a look at her leader. She knew better than to pry. The said leader went straight to her room as your eyes were locked on her. After seeing her enter, you handed the bag to Yunjin who accepted it with a smile.

You were about to leave when Yunjin's voice interrupted the silence, "Thank you," she said, quietly. You stared at her in question before she continued, "I heard from Yena unnie that you and Chaewon unnie aren't on good terms," she mentioned, and you wanted to give Yena an earful for not knowing how to keep a secret.

The taller girl smiled at you before continuing, "But I'm really glad that you helped her out." You gave Yunjin a genuine smile before replying, "Of course, I'm sure that if the roles were changed, your leader would've done the same."

She nodded at your words, "You should stay," you stared at her with wide eyes before she tried to clarify what she meant, "If you're not busy, I mean. I think you should stay with unnie for a bit, until she realizes that she's safe."

You nodded before agreeing, giving her one last smile before going towards the direction of Chaewon's room. The pounding on your chest was pretty much uncontrollable, but you chose to ignore it and knock on the girl's door.

"Come in," you heard Chaewon's muffled voice before your hand reached for the doorknob and entered her room. Her back was facing you but it did nothing to ease your nerves, "I just wanted to make sure that you're all settled before I leave," you uttered, hesitantly.

There was a long silence, and you were just about to retreat and leave when you heard her respond, "Can you stay?" Chaewon's voice was soft and unsure, and deep inside, her fears were eating her alive because why would you choose to stay with her when the last time you spoke with each other, she was such a douchebag to you. Despite that, she decided that there's nothing more to lose, "Please?"

With her back still facing the door, Chaewon could hear her heart pounding. After a few seconds, she heard shuffling and the sound of her door closing. She expected it. You didn't have any reason to stay. Her shoulders dropped at the realization that once again, she's all alone, just as she expected.

What she didn't expect though is for her bed to dip behind her, and for a hand to reach out and stroke her hair. Chaewon's tears began to resurface.

"Of course," you said, glancing at the back of her head, where your hands were playing with some of the strands of her hair, "I'm here."

You stayed.

Her tears started to fall and all she could feel was how drained she was with the week-long overthinking and the incident earlier, but at the same time, you were there with her. She had you, and it feels like that is all she needs at the moment.

You heard a quiet sob coming from the short-haired girl, and you have never felt so lost than you did at that moment. What happened earlier surely struck terror into the girl, and you had no idea how to console her. As a soloist, you were simply responsible for yourself and you didn't have other members to care for. On the other hand, Chaewon came from a 12-member group and is currently a leader of a 5-member group; the difference between the two of you is very noticeable.

All of a sudden, the girl turned and in an instant, you were met with her tear filled eyes. It was cut short because Chaewon wrapped her arm around your torso in a flash, hugging your body closely as though she was clinging for support. And at that moment on, you wanted nothing more than to hold her close regardless if you were on good terms or not.

Chaewon didn't know what came over her; with a sudden boost of confidence, she wrapped you in an embrace, knowing that it is all she needs to get rid of the unwanted thoughts that were clogging her brain. Unexpectedly, she felt your arm drape on her back, pulling her closer to your body as the other hand stroked her hair calmly, and Chaewon could swear that she's never felt more comfortable than she did at this moment.

"You should get some sleep," your quiet voice echoed in the silent room, "You don't have to worry about anything, I'll keep you safe."

The short-haired girl nodded weakly as she felt more tears fall onto your shirt. Chaewon was glad that her face was buried on your body because without a doubt, you would have seen how red she was if her face wasn't hidden.

Despite the fatigue that she felt, Chaewon didn't want to fall asleep just yet; she wanted to enjoy your company and how you held her so tightly against your warmth. Unfortunately for her, the exhaustion is already taking a toll on her and as the minutes passes, her eyelids started getting heavier, and she couldn't help but succumb to the deep sleep that awaits her.

Her body felt heavy all over as she awoke. That was the first time in a short while where she was able to get a good and uninterrupted sleep. However, instead of feeling recharged, she felt as though her body was underneath an elephant and she refused to get up.

But as she was just about to go back to sleep, she realized that her comfortable source of warmth was gone. She tiredly looked around her room and saw that you were nowhere to be found, and there weren't even any signs that you were there.

Chaewon felt disappointed but there's really nothing she could do about it. It's not like you were obliged to stay with her. Heck, she was a bitch to you, you didn't owe her anything. Perhaps she just might even be too spent last night that she imagined everything that happened in her room.

Knowing that there's no way she could sleep without your presence, Chaewon groggily got up from her bed before exiting her room. As she stepped out of the comfort of her private space, she was met with the scent of cheese balls, ramen, and fried chicken which made her stomach growl, 'Right, I wasn't able to eat my food,' she thought.

She then went straight to the kitchen area where she froze at the sight. There you were, cooking instant ramen while your back was facing the girl. 'She really stayed?'

"Y/N?" Chaewon called out hesitantly. You turned around, a bit surprised at her voice suddenly appearing behind you, "Hey," you said, a small smile forming on your lips, "You're awake."

Chaewon mirrored your expression as she slowly approached you, "Yeah," She looked at the wall clock that showed 12:56 p.m. "I'm sorry, I overslept, where's everybody?"

You returned your focus to the ramen, transferring the contents from the pan to the bowl, "Don't worry about it, I'm glad you were able to rest," you said, "Yunjin and Eunchae went to Kazuha and Sakura sunbaenim's dorm."

Chaewon nodded before taking a seat at one of the chairs. You placed the bowl on the table and prepared the plates and utensils that you and Chaewon were going to use.

The two of you ate in silence aside from the noise coming from the utensils and Chaewon humming at the cheese balls that you made. After having your meal, Chaewon picked up the used dishes and placed it on the sink. You followed her, watching her movements closely.

"I don't mean to pry," you spoke softly, "But how are you feeling?"

Chaewon leaned on the sink as she faced you, "I'm feeling much better now," she uttered softly, she looked up to meet your gaze and it took everything in her to maintain eye contact. She watched as you grinned, "That's a relief."

There was a short moment of silence until the girl cleared her throat, "Listen, Y/N," she started, "I would like to thank you," Chaewon said, studying your face, "I don't know what would've happened if you didn't show up."

You responded with a tight-lipped smile before speaking, "You shouldn't worry about it," you sighed before continuing, "You're stronger than you think, I'm sure that you would've been able to take him down even without me," you said, light-heartedly.

Chaewon gave a small chuckle before getting serious once again, "Also, I've been wanting to talk to you," she started. The short-haired girl lowered her gaze to the floor, avoiding your curious eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Chaewon prepared herself to finally say what she's been meaning to tell you, "I wanted to apologize," she said, softly, stealing a glance at you but immediately returning her gaze to the floor as though it is the most interesting thing that she ever laid her eyes on.

"I was so rude towards you after the shoot, I said mean things, I–" Chaewon inhaled deeply before speaking, "I'm really sorry. I was such a jerk."

Chaewon finally found the courage to meet your gaze and continued, "You didn't deserve any of that, and I'm really sorry," she felt her heart pounding, finding your expression frightening because she couldn't read you one bit, "I overheard you talking in your dressing room once, and I thought that you were slandering me."

"It was wrong for me to immediately assume that you were talking about me without properly confronting you about it, and my actions during our confrontation were inexcusable," Chaewon dropped her gaze once again, her hand subtly shaking because of the nerves, "I'm really sorr–"

"I know."

Suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around Chaewon's shaky ones which caused the girl to widen her eyes in disbelief, she looked up and was finally met with your eyes, "I know the reason behind your meltdown," you started, "I was just waiting for you to approach me and apologize."

Chaewon stared at you curiously, "What do you mean you know? How?"

You chuckled at her confused expression and the absurdity of your answer, "Yena unnie," Chaewon already knew what you were about to say, "Our friend can't really keep a secret, you know?"

The short-haired girl nodded, her cheeks tainted with pink hue due to embarrassment as well as realizing how close your distance was, "I can see how you could misinterpret what I said that day and why you were upset."

You grinned at her and said, "But you still have to make up for it, don't you think?"

Chaewon smiled shyly before asking, "How can I make it up to you?" You could feel your cheeks heating up; the way Chaewon looked at you made you weak in the knees.

"That depends on you," you said, your voice was barely audible, but due to your close distance, Chaewon was able to hear you loud and clear, "How do you plan to make it up to me?"

Chaewon's right hand let go of yours which she quickly placed on your shoulder. You stared at her in question, but she only grinned in response as she moved her hand onto your neck.

"Does it really depend on me?" she asked looking into your eyes for the go signal, "You might not like it," she said, with a hint of hesitation in her tone.

"Try me," you could feel your cheeks heating up and you're scared that Chaewon might take notice of it as well, "I am an appreciative person, I'm sure I'll be grateful regardless."

The short-haired girl smirked, taking that as her go signal. Chaewon leaned in closer and you could practically hear your heart pounding, so you closed your eyes in anticipation.

'She's so adorable,' Chaewon thought, rubbing small circles on your neck with her thumb. She leaned closer until she finally planted a soft kiss on your cheek which barely touched your lips.

After a few seconds, the girl pulled away, searching for your eyes to see your reaction, and she was met with a somewhat disappointed stare, "You know what?"

Chaewon tilted her head in question like a lost puppy before you continued, "I take it back, I don't think I'm an appreciative person," the girl laughed at your statement, her eyes twinkling with joy, "You weren't grateful with what I gave you?" she asked light-heartedly.

You shook your head no, "Definitely not," you said with a pout, and Chaewon wanted nothing than to kiss it away.

And so she did.

Suddenly, you could feel her soft lips on yours and if Chaewon didn't hold onto you, you were sure that you would have melted right then and there. You removed your grasp on her hand and held onto her waist for support, before kissing back.

You could feel her other hand travel to your cheek to keep you closer. Chaewon tilts her head to deepen the kiss, and you just let it happen.

When the both of you pulled away, Chaewon was breathing heavily while you chuckled, "What's funny?"

"We finally did something about that annoying tension," you said, still chuckling. Chaewon laughed with you before replying, "And I'll do it again and again."

And so she did.

#iz*one #kim chaewon #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon angst #kim chaewon imagines #chaewon scenarios #chaewon x reader #chaewon #chaewon angst #huhjxn

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tonkatsubowl · 7 months

Text

false love. vii

jing yuan x fem!reader

nsfw themes (cursing and stuff i think. mentions of domestic abuse and self harm. mentions of suicide. no, jing yuan aint hurting u bb girl). read at your own risk.

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⪩ arranged marriage. the reader and jing yuan have an arranged marriage and she is stuck, disliking every moment of it, until…

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english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

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TERM DIRECTORY

◖y/n: your name

◖e/c: eye color

◖h/c: hair color

◖l/n: last name

part one. ꕤ part two. ꕤ part three. ꕤ part four. ꕤ part five. ꕤ part six.

➽ requested tag list: @immahuman @lovingnahida @nayukiyukihira @dollfaced-erin (please comment below to be added to the tag list. i forgot who wanted to be tagged from now on so please let me know. sorry if i forgot you)

the next morning, you were clearly sore.

you were covered in love marks; bites, hickeys, but they were soft in terms of... well, image. and so was your session last night with your husband.

it was your first time doing it too, and jing yuan had been incredibly gentle with you. yes, it did hurt, it stung, but every moment that you felt any source of pain, he stopped to make sure you were okay.

after that, you had fallen asleep in his arms, and being unable to leave your side, he was unable to do any sort of aftercare for you... until the very next morning.

your eyes fluttered awake to the sight of soft, gentle rays of the sunlight invading through the window. your thighs were sore, and you were still hidden underneath the covers of your now shared blanket with jing yuan. you were so comfortable, you didn't want to move... but also, you were sore as well, so you definitely didn't want to do anything today.

looking to your right, you didn't see jing yuan anywhere. you felt a little saddened–maybe he had to go somewhere and do something important?

or maybe he was unsatisfied with your body and left you.

...nay, don't think like that now, y/n. the both of you literally shared a single night together, and he had always protected you and made sure you were safe and sound... especially now. you were fighting your self doubts, your insecurities and anxieties. because jing yuan loved you all the time.

"y/n?" you hear jing yuan's voice softly protrude through the door as it was slid open. he entered, holding a tray of what appeared to be breakfast and a side of tea that was given, too. your eyes brighten as you sat up, using the covers of your blanket to cover your chest.

his eyes linger on your shoulders and neck, satisfied that he gave you his territorial marks—you were his, and these marks are proof.

"jing yuan," you beam, happy to see him. you felt the world's weight lift off your shoulders as you see him waltz in, placing the tray on the empty nightstand.

"did you sleep well? are you hurting? i brought a heat pad with me just in case, too, if you required it."

you blink. as he sat the tray of food down, you watch him retrieve some sort of ointment from himself, and you were immediately embraced by the scent of herbal eucalyptus and lavender.

"i slept well... and i am a little sore. you didn't have to do all of this." you murmur, a little shy.

"you're right. i don't have to. but i want to. i want to take care of my wife, always." jing yuan flashed a smile at you as he sat down next to you, rubbing the ointment into his hands. "please, show me your back. i'd like to treat the marks i left on you so they don't hurt as much. i apologize if i went a little too far."

you shake your head as you turned your back towards him, letting him treat you. "y-you didn't. you were gentle... and..." good thing you weren't facing him now. you were hiding your face, cheeks reddening. "...i enjoyed it."

...yeah, you weren't facing him, so you didn't get to witness the sight of red that dusted on his cheeks. he cleared his throat awkwardly, shy and touched by your comment. "..i'm glad, love." he said, before giving a warning, "it's going to be cold."

gently, he rubbed the ointment all over your back in silence. you couldn't help but remember the scenes of last night. he was heavily breathing against you, whispering into your ear, kissing you, your neck... you immediately covered your face as your blush had deepened its color.

"ah-? y/n? is it too much?" jing yuan blinked, staring at you with worry.

"n-no, it's not that. i just... n-nothing."

"i see," jing yuan murmured, leaning in to give the back of your neck a kiss, "as long as you aren't hurt. then that's all that matters to me."

finishing up the treatment, he puts the ointment away before reaching over towards the tray of your aftercare food and drink, handing you the warm cup of jasmine tea.

"here, some jasmine tea for you." jing yuan smiles. "and some food here, too. if you want it."

your eyes brighten, glistening with delight as you take the cup. your lips meet at the brim of the cup, sipping gently.

securely, jing yuan was admiring you all the same, especially when he started to remember how adorable you looked last night. your cute voice, your mewls and moans, how you softly said his name... now it was his turn to feel embarrassed as he looks away, coughing into his hand.

you blink, looking at him with a bit of concern. "jing yuan? are you sick?"

"n-.. no. don't worry about it. just something was... erm, in my throat." he coughed again before clearing his throat. "i am fine, i reassure you."

you nod, smiling softly before you leaned over, planting a kiss onto your husband's lips. "okay... i believe you. but um... what's the agenda for today? will you be busy?"

"i was going to be busy," jing yuan responded, "but i decided to skip today and take an off day. i wanted to take you out later."

"ah," you tilt your head, "r-really? take me out? to where?"

"well, there's an event happening over at the central starskiff haven. have you been to one of those before?"

you shake your head, "no. what sort of event is it?"

"well, i guess it's like some annual race or whatever... but besides that, there is plenty of food and other stuff i'm sure you'd like. this time, i truly won't leave your side..." he gently squeezed your hand. "...not even a second. security has been heightened too, so you won't have to worry about... getting hurt again. "

you look down to your intertwined hands, safety and happiness washing over you as you nod slowly. "...alright."

over at the starskiff haven, you were immediately met by the bustling sounds of civilians and children joyously chattering amongst themselves. your hand was held by jing yuan the entire time, and never once did he let go of you for anything.

the event was a literal race of different starskiffs. others came to show off their modified engines and appearances, some came to just relax and enjoy the show, others just wanted to be there for the food... and now you were here, doing all of the above (besides racing).

jing yuan, you and lieutenant yanqing were accompanying each other, although yanqing was remaining a great distance from the both of you as he was ordered to remain on the look out for any suspicious activity.

you and jing yuan were just spending time together, not a single worry or doubt filled your guys' minds.

"ah, sesame balls," jing yuan purchased a few of these desserts before handing one to you, "here, have a try. then after, i'll take you to a nice location where you can see the view of the race."

you smile, taking the dessert before taking a bite out of it. realizing it was delicious, you immediately finish the dessert, your eyes brightening. "i-it's good!" you exclaimed as your husband now gave you an entire bag of them.

carrying the bag in your arms, you allowed your husband to take you over to a sky-scrape like building. the two of you traversed into it before finally hitting the top of the roof, where a beautiful tree was growing upon the top. a few people were here with their lovers, and you were merely one of the lovebirds that came to the roof. the tree almost looked similar to a cherry blossom tree, given the dancing of the twirling pink petals that were flying about... it was a beautiful view, especially with the tree's rain of its children.

you look towards jing yuan as he motioned you to come over, allowing you to sit next to him. you weren't really scared of heights, although you were a tad anxious. but you saw the beauty of xianzhou luofu, and... it brought you peace. with how beautiful the sky looked, with how nature beautified it all... you could stay up here forever just admiring the view.

the starskiffs below were racing amongst each other. you could hear the distant cheers of the spectators from below as you watched, smiling as you were watching how fast they were going. it was... fun.

"y/n."

your eyes peel towards jing yuan, a soft look adoring his visage as he was fixated upon you... then your eyes travel to a small, gift wrapped box.

"i've been meaning to give this to you. but... i was unable to."

you blinked as jing yuan placed the box into your hands, and you were met with the soft cool material of the object. you look back up at him, and he initiated with a nod. he wanted you to open it.

"when i had left you for a moment that day in aurum alley, it was to get you this. i was unable to look at it at first without thinking that i failed you, but..."

you opened it, revealing what appeared to be a beautiful jade necklace. it was very simple, very beautiful and nothing too excessively decorated. it was as though it were crafted by the hands of a goddess, and surely enough, it was made to be worn by one.

"...i just didn't want to continue to think like that. so i bought this for you. real jade, and all. fu xuan even enchanted it with some protection charm, as well."

you were silent, unable to say anything, admiring the piece of accessory. slowly, jing yuan extended his hands, lifting the necklace before slowly bringing it around your neck, helping you wear it.

"...y/n."

you look at him, your eyes nearly met with the stinging sensation of tears. you were... undeniably happy. at loss for words.

"...i want to apologize to you, at the bottom of my heart... for letting you get hurt that day."

god, how many times does he have to apologize for this? you already forgave him so many times...

"i should've been stronger to prevent you from g—!?"

to shut him up, you leaned over to give him a kiss, silencing him for a moment. you felt him smile against your lips as he pulls his arms around you, bringing you into his embrace.

"...you...you should stop that." you murmur. "please. it's okay. i'm safe now, aren't i?"

jing yuan nods slowly. you were right. he just... felt incredibly bad.

"...yes. you are. always."

he sighed deeply, his lips tugged to a faint smile. his hand came to hold yours again, digits intertwining.

"...y/n."

"yes... jing yuan?"

there was a moment of silence as his eyes lingered upon your own.

"...i love you."

the gentle breeze of the sky allowed the petals of the cherry-blossom like tree to dance even more, greeting each of their partners with a waltz. your heart had fluttered, your eyes brightening at his confession to you — for the first time, too. yes, the two of you spent that night together. the two of you were basically married. but...

to hear those words... you were filled with pure joy. because... that's how you felt too, with him.

and you can safely say it without a doubt,

"...i love you too, jing yuan!"

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan #jing yuan x reader

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kanene-yaaay · 2 months

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He started it!

Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...

But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!

Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D

[~*~]

Dogday had started it.

Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out.

“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”

You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.

Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second.

That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.

Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?

“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”

Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing.

… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory.

You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.

(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)

Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.

But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.

(Yet.)

So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.

“P-please! Angel, just, please!”

No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.

His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away.

That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.

Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?

“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”

Oh well.

A pity.

Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.

See, Dogday? No sound.

He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation.

You keep going.

The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.

Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.

So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction.

“Angeel, please. Mercy!”

Awww.

(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)

(Ok. A lot.)

But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted.

Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon.

“Eek! Wait, wait!”

You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?

“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.

Oh.

(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)

Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.

(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)

You decided to return the favor.

Yes, gigglebug?

For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.

His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.

Hm.

Gigglebug?

He jolted with a yelp.

Silly giggly gigglebug?

Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.

Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?

His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.

Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.

Ah.

You see how that is.

Dogdayy ~

He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.

Well, since he was insisting so much…

You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.

His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.

Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.

You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.

You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…

Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve.

Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.

How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.

Ohoho.

So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?

You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.

Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug?

He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.

Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever?

“Sweheheart!”

Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.

Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality.

Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way.

“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.

See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly.

Actually…

You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.

You kind of missed listening to his laughter…

And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react.

Without wasting a single second, you digged.

A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.

Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.

His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.

At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.

You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand.

There is it. My beautiful smile.

He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”

Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!

Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.

The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.

(This was nice. Safe.)

Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down.

You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.

Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.

…Dogday?

“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”

You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.

Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch.

Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.

Dogday had started it.

#Ticklish!Dogday #Lee!Dogday #Ler!Reader #Ler!Player #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #DOGDAY IS A DEAR HE DESERVES TO LAUGH AND BE SILLY AND PLAYFUL AND HAPPY OK I COULDN'T HELP IT #I like to imagine that Dogday is all giggles and half pleas and protesting babbles and giddy snickers until he actually gets tickled #then he just let everything else go and start laughing non stop without a single care in the world #if i had a nickel everytime I had to be careful while describing raspberries and nibbles w a character that had trauma related to being-#well-#nibbled on but not in a tickly fun way. I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that happened twice...#lkjhgfghjkolploijuh anyway!! hope you all have a nice week! take care <3 #xreader #they are both incredibly silly you honor #I was writing another fic where reader and dogday find his own small smiling critter toy version and befriend it but this one will be super #-long and time is scarse so I decided to finish this playful idea here first and then try to write the other when I can #Let's see how that plays out :D

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aeor-is-for-reccing · 3 months

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Happy Birthday, Aeor is For Reccing!

One year ago today (give or take a couple hours), we published our first rec list. To celebrate, I (Opera) have prepared some stats. A little bit like a reccing wrapped, only with a smaller budget and being less creepy about your data.

But thank you to everyone who has recced, every one who has read the reclist, everyone who has reblogged, everyone who has kudosed, to @professor-rye and @theusualjasper, and everyone who helped along the way.

I'm glad we've gotten this far!

To start: We've had 685 recs, 478 fics, 210 Authors, 53 reclists and 43 themes.

Most Recced Authors: (1) Mousecookie - 25 recs (1) royalgreen - 25 recs (3) SaltCore - 21 recs (4) hanap - 15 recs (5) kmackatie - 14 recs (5) Chrome - 14 recs (5) Firefright - 14 recs (8) Mlle Kurtz - 12 recs (9) road_rhythm - 11 recs (9) MinnesotaBruja - 11 recs (9) LuckyOwlsFoot - 11 recs (9) MarsBar2019 - 11recs

Authors with the most fics recced: (1) royalgreen - 18 fics (2) SaltCore - 13 fics (2) hanap - 13 fics (4) Mousecookie - 12 fics (5) kmackatie - 10 fics (5) LuckyOwlsFoot - 10 fics (7) Firefright - 9 fics (7) Jakia - 9 fics (9) Professor_Rye - 8 fics (9) Mlle Kurtz - 8 fics

Fics recced the highest number of times: Hard Mouth and The Hole in the Stone, both recced 8 times Fic recced the most number of times for a single theme: In the Closet of Our Discretion, by Firefright for Cultural Differences (recced 4 times) Longest fic recced: Dappled Shadow and Penumbral Light by Professor_Rye (463,977) Shortest fic recced: Of Constellations and Freckles, also by Professor_Rye (100 words) First fic Recced: Stay for a Spell by Palebluedot Latest fic Recced: Uncharted Waters by EmpressofWizards

Word Cloud based on what people like about the fics:

Most common content note: Choose Not To Warn Number of Series recced: 16 Percentage of Hidden Gems that are No Longer eligible (have over 150 kudos): 48% (check them out!) Number of Images Rai has Used: 27

So what's next?

Well, the absolute next thing is that sometime this week I'm going to post the reccing spreadsheet for everyone to see - if people want to look through old recs, they should feel free to! Then there's the ideas I had from the survey a few months ago - chief among them was making it easier to import information from AO3 (you'd still be able to rec fics that can't be imported or on tumblr, I'm just trying to remove some of the hassle) I'm still doing research on the best way to make that happen, and kind of selfishly want to do it myself - but it's been a busy couple of months for me.

Speaking of which - I'm having surgery in a month! A double masectomy and reconstruction on February 19 (roughly equivalent to top surgery (masculinizing)) and February 20th (roughly equivalent to top surgery (femininzing- fat grafting)). Kind of like they're turning my chest on and off again - a ctrl-alt-deteat, if you will. Anyway, I don't want cancer, but everyone I've talked to about this has said the stomach incision is worse than the chest incision, and nobody's ever described top surgery as a walk in the park. I'm planning on doing absolutely nothing for six weeks, and @theusualjasper will be taking over during that time.

Anyway, here's to another year! Thanks to everyone who has participated or helped along the way, you're all great. Even you <3

#not a rec list #shadowgast #shadowgast recs #stats

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respectthepetty · 8 months

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Just wanna say as SE asian queer man i absolutely LOVE your commentaries for OF, esp. about how Ray is THE SLUT. Can't agree more.

Gracias for the appreciation, Anon! I'm glad you like the brand of chaos I'm delivering daily in my little corner of this universe, but I know I'm wildin' in these tags most of the times.

Honestly, I'm a mess.

Which is why Ray is my fighter trollop.

He is my type of mess.

It makes sense why Sand would continue to drop his guard around Ray because everything about Ray is appealing.

Ray is an aesthetic. Even when he is being a hot ass mess, he is always leaning hard into the "hot ass" portion of the mess.

Because even when he dismissed Sand from his car, he bit his lip and looked down. My man ain't stupid. He knew what he was giving up.

But he is very aware that he can get it right back because he is hot.

All these boys are attractive, but thankfully Khaotung is Ray, and he has a way of using his body that is very enticing.

We see it when he acts drunk, but even when he is just chilling, he is serving a look.

So Khaotung playing Ray is pleasurable since everything about Ray is visually alluring (like that comfy ass looking jacket).

I have a large collection of vinyl records and liquor, so the set designers showing us stacks of books mingled in with bowling pins, random statues, crates of records, glassware, and other objects is gratifying to me because most of the time, the sets are hotel rooms, and they feel like hotel rooms, yet Ray's place and his body language demonstrate that this space is lived in.

But even when Ray wakes up in Sand's apartment, the slight tilt adds to Ray's body language that he is still tipsy (and I won't move past the angle only showing us "POOR" from the shirt).

Because my favorite thing about Ray is he feels real. Not just as a slut character, but as a character with no ulterior motives.

When he is not pleased, he doesn't try to hide it.

If he doesn't like something, his face will tell on him.

So when he likes something, it's obvious.

Even if he is the only one happy about it.

So I do believe him when he says he doesn't care who people sleep with because even though this is about Mew, if Mew isn't sleeping with him, why would he care? Just so he can rub salt in his own wounds? He already sees Top and Mew together every single day. All Ray needs to be concerned about is who is sleeping with him.

And from the way he closed the top on his 90s Mercedes-Benz convertible (A WHOLE FUCKING VIBE!) without breaking contact with Sand proves that if everyone would just mind their business, they, too, would be so confident in their dick game that they could throw up on a guy, insult him, break his wine bottles, ruin his guaranteed sex date, and kick him out of their car blue balled and all,

And get him right back the next week.

Like I wrote - Ray is a hot ass mess.

And that's why I'm Sand's gonna love him.

#only friends #ray is my fighter #ray is my trollop #i love this slut!#sand x ray #sand is intrigued by Ray's entire existence

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 14

Who is this talking to Ringo? Press? A boy scruff? Someone who wants their project produced by Apple? He tries George too.

Again, I love the "freak-out" as John calls it. They really could've had so much fun together under different circumstances. (Different being neither of them ever dated John) But John's so sweet saying, "Id like it to be part of her new LP. Our new LP."

I wonder what Robert Fraser thought of the beard.

Why are we playing 20 Flight Rock now, Paul? It's just overlayed over a montage to change "scenes", but I wonder what the real context was.

Billy. What a little ray of sunshine honestly.

"So what should we do that's fun? Besides work?" I feel like every day, John has a little adorable quote, and this is today's. Words to live by.

I don't remember if Get Back includes the "Oh Darling" version where John's answering back between lines in conversation with the lyrics. I sincerely hope so. Peter Jackson was probably like "well I can only include so much homosexuality before people have too many questions."

Ringo, you smooth criminal. I love that he just has this trick he learned as a teenager that the Beatles were all impressed by, back when Ringo was the scary gangster with the car and the beard, and he still does it for them like ten years later. It's so endearing.

Another cute John and Yoko moment: "It's just that screaming all the way." "Poor John." "Yes, it's so terrible." She's teasing him and being sweet to him at the same time. Cuties.

George asks Paul where his Rickenbacker is. "Isn't that one much better?" And Paul makes up some shit about the Hoffner being lighter. You nostalgic little bitch. Poor baby.

John's little guilty look at the camera when he's almost just taken something on film. It's cute. He looks like a naughty kid. But it's kind of a cool moment. It shows just how relaxed and natural he is. He's not performing for or worried about the cameras at all. What we're seeing of him today is just him. You know? Idk I think it's nice.

What's with the little pigeon noises in the middle of a recording, guys? They're so weird smh

Poor Glyn. He's just trying to do his job and he has to deal with fucking Leopold and Leob over here. He gives them some instruction. There's a look between the two of them. And then it's all, "Don't interrupt" "Hey son" "Stahhs when" "Hey" "they're recording. We're bloody Stahhs you know." "Look fuckface. Don't comment." "The cheek." The impenetrable wall of Lennon and McCartney, folks.

"Well, we'll have to do it sitting down. Or we get too excited." It's heartbreaking to me how obvious it is that they're still just having the absolute time of their lives together and that, as John put it, "the minutes are crumbling away."

Literally what the hell is with Dennis smacking Paul's ass (as like a 'good job, your band wants to put your song out as the single' I guess) and nobody reacting? Linda would've been like "ope, time to find a new head of Apple films." (Dave Spinoza on RAM, anyone?) He really does look so proud of himself, though. Happy for you, baby.

Oh, right, that's what Robert thinks. Paul looks like his working class fantasy. (DH Lawrence. Victorian Miner.)

And I'm just going to add this, since Peter Jackson REFUSES. Paul: Can't afford to mess around here, you know. Then

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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themadlu · 9 days

Note

I absolutely love Zelie!

Could you write something set right after the game ends? She is tired as hell and overstressed and Astarion tries to make her feel better?

Thanks for the ask @spacebarbarianweird! I'm so happy you like her, as I love Tiriel! Wonder if they'd get along, uh.

Premise, I have never done asks (unless it's for a writing exercise) nor I am good (capable?) of writing fluff. So beware, there's as much fluff I can muster here, with a smidge of angst.

TW: none.

Tags: end-of-game spoilers (I haven't finished it yet, so if something is incorrect sorry!), fluff (kinda?), these two love in quality time and acts of service.

Hope you like it!

The charred edges of a frayed shirt stare at Astarion from the floor. He glares at them, at what they represent, in contempt: his return to the shadows. All that unprecedented (and mostly unwilling) heroism he displayed in fighting the Netherbrain served him nothing. Nothing. Not even saving Baldur’s Gate makes him worthy of a life in the sun, it seems, because, as soon as that jiggly monstrosity fell to its death, Astarion began to burn and the hunger tore at his insides.

On the run, again, nothing more than a ravenous monster lurking in the shadows.

(Somewhere, his conscience reminds him that real monsters don’t have impossible little heroes shielding them from the harming light with their own broken bodies.)

The elf laughs bitterly at that, hissing when his grimace irritates the still-healing skin around his mouth.

And yet…

Steps resonate further down the hallway with a familiarity that makes his ears twitch in recognition and his body tense in eagerness.

…she’s here.

Zélie opens the door of their shared bedroom (Only theirs, finally.), closing it promptly behind her to block the stray sun rays from the corridor’s windows. A funereal darkness, one that Astarion is all too well-acquainted with, shrouds the room in a still embrace.

Astarion is almost glad that his Zélie is human when surrounded by shadows. Back then, before the blooming trust, the tense friendship, the impossible devotion, he despised the maddening woman (He was terrified of her, so inconceivably real.) The darkness was the only time he had the advantage when her pale eyes would squint in temporary blindness and not witness the violence her stern kindness did to him. How it undid the tenets of the world, one by one.

You ruined me, darling. Look at me, a fool in a doomed love. What a ridiculous joke of a vampire you made me!

He should be prowling for blood and cursing the sun, yet here he is, smiling, trying his damn hardest not to rush into his woman’s embrace. You will return to me begging when she’s gone, what’s left of his spite whispers. He ignores it, because that part of him has never known what it means to be cherished simply for existing (It knows all about being wanted, although comparing that with whatever stolen miracle he and Zélie have makes Astarion gag.)

“Finally, darling! Here I thought I’d seen the last of you, lost among all that dreadful politicking—” his snarky quips (They are part of him and Zélie loves them, so he’s decided he’ll greet her with one every single day.) die in his throat when he properly looks at her.

Hells, he had gotten into the habit of scanning her for possible injuries during their travels, but now the fight is over, without visible wounds or bruises, Astarion can fully see the toll their adventure has taken on her. Her eyes are tired and bruised from lack of sleep (Of course, she’s been foregoing sleep to spend time with him at night.), her face tauter than ever, skin so sallow she looks sick. Astarion presses himself against her and bristles when he feels her ribs poking his body through their clothes.

Worry, guilt, anger grip him. His brave, little saviour looks so unlike herself. So fragile and exhausted that he fears she’ll crumble to dust should he touch her. He forgets she’s human and not a divine being sometimes, with all that practicality and stony attitude of hers. Never complaining, never relenting (He knows it well.)

You moronic creature! How dare you reduce yourself in this state.

“Darling, what—”

“Oh, hello, Astarion,” Zélie seems to take notice of him only when he’s practically caging her against the door. She’s making an effort not to slide to the floor, he can tell.

Fucking idiot.

“Are you well? I hope the room is comfortable enough?” she nearly slurs.

“Am I well?” Oh, now he’s angry, “Love, what the fuck—”

“Language! No need to be rude,” Astarion feels some relief when Zélie’s irises spark with that annoyed light he coaxes out of her oh-so-well. She inhales deeply, continuing “I came to tell you that I will be late tonight, so you could come and meet me near the main city gate? There’s barely any Fists left, and lots of properties have been robbed or vandalised since there are no guards so Wyll asked me—what’s with that look now?”

The pale elf stares at her perplexed face down his nose, nostrils flaring. “Do you hear yourself, you wretch?!” Her eyes are reduced to judging slits and she’s about to chastise him, but Astarion is undeterred. “No, rather, have you looked at yourself recently? Literal corpses have a healthier…flair than you do now, darling. Myself included.”

Zélie scoffs (Scoffs!), “Oh Astarion, I admire how far you’ve come with showing concern, really, but,” she tries to push past him, but even her martial art is worthless against his full vampiric strength, “there are things, oh you vexing elf! Things that need tending to even if I’d much rather spend the foreseeable future here with you–hey!”

Astarion feels somewhat proud of the shout she lets out when he picks her up with ease (Not so puny, after all.) She is so light something lodges in his throat (Frustration at his inability to keep her safe.) and he hopes that his renewed strength is what makes his gesture so effortless.

No one should be this light.

She used to weigh almost the same as him, all muscle and sinew from her training and a life of comfortable abundance; now, her shirt hangs loosely around her frame.

Fuck. Why in the nine hells haven’t I noticed before?!

He realises he voiced his thoughts when the woman in his arms replies, “Because critical stab wounds take precedence over hunger, Astarion."

"No need to blame anyone,” Zélie says as he unceremoniously throws her on the bed. She fights not to melt into the mattress. “Astarion,” his infuriating lover speaks slower, as if he were a child, “I need to go. We didn’t save this city only to let it implode in chaos. It needs me; Wyll needs me.”

Jealousy (Unfounded but very much present.) soars in Astarion’s chest. “Well, darling, our selfless Wyll can kindly go fuck himself and find his own lover and stop pestering mine. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of offers now he’s back in line at the next Archduke. Those horns also add a certain ragged flair that many sheltered young nobles will find irresistible.”

Zélie rolls her eyes so much only her sclera is visible. She makes to stand up, but Astarion holds her by the shoulders with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at her with the other, “Hush, you. Is that how it’ll be for the rest of time? I am tired of seeing you hurt.” That makes her expression twitch with guilt.

Good.

He glares at her, “Now, you stay here as the good girl I know you can be and I’ll go to the kitchens to see if anything edible is left. Hopefully, it’ll be better than whatever the wizard cooked.” Astarion forces himself to tear away from Zélie’s inviting body (He did miss her all day.), but she catches his wrist before he can step away.

“What now?!” he snarls. “You’ve driven mad for days with your ‘Respect others’ and ‘We are a group, Astarion!’ and ‘You can’t be that selfish’, and you won’t let me—”

“The sun,” she simply says, defeated.

Oh.

How quickly Astarion has forgotten his pathetic limitations. On a quest for tavern food, defeated by the light of day. He can’t even venture outside their room. Zélie is the only person he wants to protect and can’t even feed her when she’s fed him countless times before. He snarls loudly, balling his fists, “Fuck!”

“It’s all right,” Zélie pulls him to her, unfazed by his temperamental mood, and he lets himself fall on top of her on the bed, his mortification soothed by her closeness.

“Tell you what,” she says, breath tickling his face. Astarion holds her cheeks, sharpened by tiredness and hunger, in his hands. He rubs his thumbs over them in small circles, as if he could make them meatier, healthier, by force of will alone. “I will go downstairs, where a Fist captain is waiting for me. I will tell her to ask Wyll if the issue can wait until tomorrow or if Jaheira or Minsc,” she grimaces in worry at the idea, “can take over for the evening. Then, I’ll see if the cook has something prepared. If not, I’ll make do with some cheese and bread.”

Astarion feels a soft dizziness spreading through him. She is talking with that calm and collected voice of hers as if nothing could ever shake or hurt them when she knows what it does to him. He tangles his fingers in her curls, messing them up (An arduous task when they already look like a harpy’s.), before cradling her face into the base of his neck.

“Then,” his little hero wraps her arms around him, under his shirt and on his scarred back. Astarion is still unused to how careful her hands are on him, like a gentle breeze. She looks at him in search of discomfort, but she finds none. The elf hopes Zélie knows that nothing she does will be the cause of any uneasiness he may show in the future (Even she can’t shield him from all his memories.)

“I will come back here, to this bed. We’ll eat and rest and when the sun sets, we’ll go to the rooftop to see the stars and enjoy the summer air. How does that sound?” She boops his nose with hers.

Astarion swallows loudly, “It sounds perfect, love,” he concedes. That’s as close as anyone has ever come to convincing Zélie to drop her duties and rest. Small victories. He is sure he’ll persuade her to live a life of rest and luxury, one day. If everything goes as he desperately hopes.

He is rewarded with a content smile he does not deserve, so he kisses her soundly instead.

____________________________________________

The night is warm, comforting even. How strange; Astarion can’t remember darkness in Baldur’s Gate ever being so welcoming. A loud munching resonates on his left, and the pale elf has to keep himself from grinning too overtly at his precious woman digging into a simple beef stew as if it were the nectar of the gods. Her cheeks puff out as she takes another mouthful, her usual composure nowhere to be seen in what Astarion hopes is another first.

(He wishes he could have been her first at everything, just as she was his.)

Midnight strikes. He would have been in some dirty tavern or dingy brothel by now if the mind flayers hadn’t mercifully kidnapped him. He would have been truly dead if the impossible creature next to him hadn’t insisted he was worth saving.

Zélie looks at him as if he performed a miracle, “This, munch, is, chomp, utterly amazing. The best thing I’ve eaten in a long, long while.”

“Tut, love, I resent that. And here I thought I was special,” he purrs it in offended seduction just to witness his lover’s cheeks and forehead flush in embarrassment. She looks healthier already.

Good.

“Oh, you, sassy, snarky…ugh,” Zélie narrows her eyes at him, then immediately composes herself. “Let me specify, the best thing I’ve eaten of any nutritional value in a long, long time.”

Astarion laughs so loud that a few pigeons fly away in fear. “Touché, love. Well played.”

“Where did you even find this? When I checked the kitchen—”

When she checked the kitchen, the useless cook was not meant to start his shift for another couple of hours, which left her with two slices of bread and a portion of cheese so small even a rat would have ignored it. So Astarion, spurred on by his newly-uncovered protectiveness, waited for his Zélie to be busy with the Fists captain before putting his daggers to good use. It was convenient that the cook had no will to test out the elf’s gutting technique.

“Oh, darling, I am extremely resourceful. You should know this by now,” he says with a telling smirk.

“Right. That means I don’t want to know. Though I wouldn’t be against getting more of this,” she points at the bowl of stew in admiration, “from time to time. It reminds me of my grandfather’s cooking.”

Astarion tenses a bit at the mention of the family she left behind for him; he waits for (No, expects.) Zélie to eventually consider the whole thing as the massive mistake it is and…leave him. Hate him. Become another person he cheated not of her life (At the very least.) but of her future.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, dear?” She asks, head tilted. She can see him even without the tadpoles, and it unsettles him in a good way.

It feels right, to be known by her. To know her in return.

He doesn’t want to lie to her now (She’s rubbing her annoying righteousness all over him.), so he opens his arms and she scoots against him, full belly and satisfied gaze.

Lovely.

Astarion gently guides them to the mattress he brought up from the bedroom and curls up around Zélie. He could laugh. He despised heroes for so long and here he was, lulling one to sleep. But she was his hero, which makes all the difference; he still doesn’t believe in the natural goodness of others, but he believes in hers, and that’s all he needs.

And she fits against him, around his jagged edges so perfectly, Astarion would believe she was made for him if he were a religious man.

“Sleep darling,” he coos into her ear.

She’s already halfway to the dream realm after, but she’s ever the stubborn woman. “But the sun—”

“I don’t need sleep, love; I’ll move us downstairs when dawn comes. I’ve wasted the day in bed already,” he plants little kisses on her hair, her face, her hands. Worships her as much as he can without waking her up.

“But that’s the issue…want to…spend time with you,” why must she make it so impossible for him not to fall for her?

Every time the elf is sure he hit the bottom of the devotion he is capable of, she pushes him further down. And she doesn’t try that hard, his pesky love.

“Hush,” he murmurs, wrapping them in a thick blanket to keep his undead chill at bay. “Rest, idiot. I’m here. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Astarion tightens his grip on her sleeping form. “We’ll take all the time we need, love. I promise.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!oc #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #bg3 requests #oc: zélie #bg3 #female tav #bg3 fanfiction #spawn astarion #human tav #tav oc

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maraschinomerry · 1 year

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Distracted part 2

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Summary: after Lockwood tells Lucy and George about his encounter at the auction, the three of them set out to find you and the book

Content: making out, deep conversation, mention of manipulation

A/N: thank you all so so much for the love on the first part (which is here, originally requested by @superpositvecloudshipper) and thank you for being patient with me for the follow-up, hope you like it!

Word count: 2k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear + @rinisfruity14 @tigerthealien @honey-with-tea @frogmanfletch @ayoitsmickey

George paced furiously around the kitchen. Deep shadows crossed his face every time he turned away, the blackness of the night beyond the window not providing a single speck of light. "I can't believe you lost the book, Lockwood. Jesus, Barnes is going to kill us. We're screwed."

Lockwood heaved a sigh from the table, where he was scribbling something about you, the mystery woman from the auction, on the Thinking Cloth. "It's not my fault, I got trapped with this relic hunter and she pinned me down and stole it."

The thudding of George's footsteps ground to an abrupt halt and Lucy, on the other side of the table, snapped to attention. Lockwood almost squirmed under their scrutiny.

"She?" George frowned.

"We need to find her. What did she look like?" Lucy listened as Lockwood rattled off a remarkably detailed description of you and fought to keep her expression neutral. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes. Wait. No. I mean-"

Lucy burst out laughing while George stared in horror. "Oh my god, so when you say she pinned you…" Her face split into a mischievous grin.

George slammed his hands onto the table, making everyone's teacups rattle. "Do not finish that thought. But as much as I really don't want to say it, Lucy's right. We do need to find her and the book. And I think you know how we go about it."

—

"You never fail to surprise me, Locky."

The trio were down at the wharf in the early rays of morning, trying to find out if Flo knew you or your whereabouts. Much to Lockwood's chagrin, the other two were more than happy to divulge every detail they knew. Lucy had even put aside her disdain for the other girl to be able to fully participate in the gossip.

"I know, I lost a fight, these things happen. It was a very crowded space."

"I was talking about you finally being intimate with someone."

Lockwood blushed. "I wouldn't exactly call it-" the words died in his throat as Flo threw him a knowing glare. "Okay fine, but that's not why I- why we need to find her. She stole something important, and we have to get it back. Please, Flo."

"Fine. But I'm not coming with you. Being a relic woman was my thing until she decided to steal the idea, along with a bunch of my sources. It won't be pretty if I see her again."

—

Someone was coming. More than one someone. The sounds of multiple sets of feet and muffled voices echoed off the concrete walls of the place you called home, a disused undercroft in South Bank. You tucked yourself behind a pillar, pulling a knife from the holster on your leg.

"Hello?" The voice that called out was deep, but not deep enough to be a man's, and oddly familiar. "I'm here for the book." Oh.

You slipped out from your hiding place to see the boy from the auction flanked by a bespectacled, curly-haired boy dressed all in orange and a pretty brunette girl in a practical blue playsuit and leather jacket. They were both a little shorter than him.

"Hello darling," you flashed him a smile, noting the way the other two people glanced at each other behind his back. How much did they know? "I'm afraid you've wasted your time, though I'm sure I can make it up to you." Knife still in hand, you stepped a little closer. He didn't move, just looked you up and down, but the girl switched from behind his shoulder to in front. He murmured something to her, and you caught the name Lucy.

"You can make it up by not lying to me again."

"Okay, first of all, I never lied to you. I did have fun and you definitely seemed to. Secondly, what makes you think I'm lying now? I don't have the book."

"You're too smart to get rid of something that valuable. Personal insurance, didn't you say?"

"My my, you've got a good memory. Either that or you've been really thinking about me."

"We are still here, you know," the other boy interrupted. "Any time you want to let us know what's going on would be great, or shall we leave you to it?" The girl, Lucy, waggled her eyebrows a little. She definitely knew the whole of it, then. The taller boy pondered for a moment before giving them an apologetic smile and saying it was perhaps best.

As soon as they were gone, you sheathed your knife and took the boy by his tie. He gulped as your fingers ran up and down the smooth silk - not pulling, not forcing, just reinforcing the fact that you were unarmed and right in his personal space. His hand came up, ghosting across your shoulder, before it dropped and he cleared his throat.

"So, what exactly do you need personal insurance for?"

"Oh please, don't say it like you don't know. You're friends with that Bones girl, you've probably dealt with tons of relic hunters. It's just another part of the lifestyle."

There was something soft and sincere in the way he looked at you, a far cry from the angry, passionate boy you'd met the first time. He sat on one of the hard concrete benches and held out a hand. "Then you know you can trust me with it."

You refused the hand, but in spite of yourself sat down next to him with a huff. The last thing you wanted was to go churning out some sob story, especially with a fling so quick you still didn't actually know his name, but if that was what it took for him to leave you alone then so be it. Although, you had to admit, there was a tiny part of you that was pleased he'd come looking, that you'd got the chance to see him again. He seemed nice. Sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with you yet caring enough to know when to stand down. Your world would eat him alive.

"Nothing good comes from trusting others." You half-expected a snappy retort, a speech about the healing power of friendship, but he must have sensed the weight behind your words because he said nothing, simply waited for you to elaborate. So you did.

The long and the short of it was that you'd been an idiot. When you first became a relic hunter, you had only just lost your Talent and had no idea how to navigate the world without it, so you'd fallen in with a more experienced guy a few years your senior. He taught you everything you needed to know, helped get you on your feet and fending for yourself, but he also used your loyalty against you and tricked you into an obligation to give him a cut of anything you earned on a hunt. It wasn't enough that you couldn't afford to eat or anything, but just enough that you'd never be able to break away and gain your dependence from him. The book was your insurance because technically you hadn't got it on a hunt, so it was your nest egg for when you finally got the confidence to break free from him.

"Not that I think I ever will," you added bitterly. "It's too late for me."

"No. I don't believe that." The boy was almost choked up, watching you with the most pained expression.

"It's that relentless optimism that left you without the book in the first place."

"I'm not being optimistic, I'm being realistic. Come with us, we could help you."

"Look, you're sweet and all, but don't mistake me thinking you're hot for me liking you."

He raised an eyebrow and gave you another of those irresistible grins like he had when he first swiped the book. "At least you think I'm hot."

You laughed, genuinely, and it startled you a little. "Stop being so smug and get over here before your mates get impatient."

He was on you in seconds. All the despondency of the conversation evaporated in the sudden heat between you as he dragged you into his lap. You moved with agility, knees either side of his waist and feet between his knees, and twisted your hand into his hair to hold yourself close. He moaned into the kiss and clamped his hands firmly round your waist. Still tasted like bergamot. You savoured him, drank him in, then decided to get a little experimental. Letting go of his hair, you took both hands to loosen his tie and undo the top couple of shirt buttons. The second his skin was exposed, you ducked down and worked a blossoming bruise into that perfect neck. To your delight, he tilted his head back to grant you further access. Once you considered him suitably marked, you trailed kisses up towards his jaw, and he brought his head back down to catch your lips with his. The hands on your waist moved in opposite directions: one up and around your back, the other down over your hip, lower and lower. You shuddered in excitement, but the movement jolted his teeth a little too hard against your lower lip and made you jump.

"Sorry!" he whispered, already deep voice made even huskier by desire and shortness of breath. "Are you…?"

"I'm fine," you reassured him, "but maybe it's a good time to call it quits while we still can."

You disentangled from one another, the tension of unresolved intimacy thick in the air that grew between you as you moved apart.

"You know," he began without making eye contact, "the offer still stands. We could make it work."

"I know. But no, we couldn't." Part of you desperately wished it weren't the case, but you understood deep down that you could never return to his world. You suspected he knew it too. He began to move away. "Wait, what about the book?"

The smile he gave you lacked any of the electricity it usually did, but still had the same depth of feeling. "Keep it. Consider it proof that trust can get you something." He was almost at the edge of the undercroft now, almost out of sight.

"Wait!" you called again, louder this time. Inwardly, you cringed at how needy you must have sounded.

"If you don't want me to go, just say so." That spark was back in his smirk.

"No, I just… I still don't know your name."

"Lockwood. Can I ask for yours?"

You smiled softly, trying so hard to keep up the confident snarky persona but feeling it crumble by the second in the face of his utter sincerity. "Maybe next time, darling." And then he was gone.

—

The letterbox of 35 Portland Row rattled. That was odd. The postman had already been by today. Lockwood pushed himself wearily out of his armchair and made his way into the hallway. On the mat was a single scrap of folded paper. Frowning, he picked it up. The handwriting was unfamiliar, messy with haste.

'Behind the wall'.

There was nobody at all on the street, no matter which way he looked. Whoever had delivered the note had made a point not to stick around. Tucked behind a small bush in the front garden, leaning against the wall as promised, so well concealed nobody could possibly know it was there without being told to look, was a rectangular block wrapped in brown paper. Tucked in the front was another scrap of the same paper, with the same handwriting.

'Lockwood, darling. Proof trust goes both ways. Until we meet again, (name) x'

Blinking back tears, Lockwood peeled back the paper with shaky hands. Hands that were holding the book.

#lockwood & co x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #fem!reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #renew lockwood and co

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shortpplfedup · 7 months

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Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 6

Another outstanding episode as chickens start coming home to roost and Sand sets a ball a-rollin' that is gonna roll right over him in the end. In a surprise upset, Sand's mom won the audience vote last week, with Top and Boston tied for second place. You really never know who the Tumblrinas are going to favour from week to week, keeps us all on our toes! Here are this week's highly scientific rankings.

🔺1. Ray (4)

Let me talk to my friends. It’s his birthday. I’d like to say something.

Ray said NO SURVIVORS and sprayed the entire room at Mew's birthday party, and honestly? Kinda deserved. From calling Sand a whore (OUCH) to reading Cheum for filth for her shitty little backhanded comments, to almost letting the cat out of the Top/Boston bag in front of everybody, our resident mess came for every neck in the building. Boston primed him, Sand aimed him and Cheum lit the match, and it's no coincidence those three got hit with the blowback of his explosion at Top. A seething ball of pain and resentment fueled by alcohol and god-knows-what-else was never gonna fire a clean shot.

🔺2. Sand (5)

Stop thinking about Mew and focus on me for once. Can’t you really see that I care about you?

Well now we know why Sand didn't blink an eye at Nick bugging Boston's car; he's just as fucking unhinged. Sand, a poor, breaking his own phone just to get his hands on Nick's and that recording (which, by the way, calling the file 'That Car' is really too much Nicholas PLEASE 🤣)...WILD. We've all had Nick pegged as the bunny boiler but Sand might be worse and I can't WAIT because I still believe in that baseball bat. But him begging Ray to give a single solitary shit about him even AFTER Ray calls him a whore in front of a bar full of people...I remain embarrassed on his behalf.

🔺3. Mew (6)

Cocky much? I don’t even know if we’re gonna last that long.

Ok, when Mew said 'I love the sound you make when having sex' I literally screamed out OH FUCK HE KNOWS and listen, I have been WAITING for this moment. That was a baller fucking moment. You just KNOW Top's blood ran cold. Of course these two aren't breaking up, because couples like this NEVER break up. Game always recognises game. This is gonna be the first confrontation of many. But I'm pretty sure this is the last time Mew is gonna cry about it. Top might have just picked the wrong one. Mew has two moms, pretty sure he knows how to destroy a man.

🔻4. Nick (2)

I don’t give a shit about what number I am. Screw it. I’m not that into you.

At some point Nick is gonna have to stop threatening to walk and actually fucking walk, but it's clearly continuing to work for him as he and Boston are clearly the boyfriends Boston insists they're not. Dates, couple photos, meeting the dad, tender lovemaking, Boston's deep, dark secrets: Nick's getting it all...except the label he wants so very badly. And now he's shook because he knows Sand stole that recording, and he knows if Boston finds out about it it's all coming crashing down.

🔺5. Cheum (8)

I’m so happy everyone has a lover. Even a heartless slut like Boston has one.

Girl, you absolutely earned that smoke Ray blew at you. Sly Comment Susie got a minor taste of her own medicine and didn't like that shit one bit. It's all fun and games until it's your dirt under the microscope. Maybe Cheum just learned a lesson about minding her own business a little more, or at the very least keeping some of her thoughts to herself.

🔻6. Boston (3)

If I was a nice guy, you wouldn’t like me.

A surprisingly quiet week for Ton as everybody else gets so messy he looks relatively drama-free. But under the surface he's still paddling like mad: screwing Nick like a lover rather than just a fuckbuddy to keep him from leaving, clearly not out to his dad but bringing Nick round to meet him (once again using him for free work), pinning Ray so decisively that he causes a full-on meltdown. Though, 'I don't hate Mew'...well that might actually be true, because he's giving more fear than hatred.

🔻7. Top (1)

I get anyone I want. What about you? Who do you get?

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Top spent the episode feeling totally smug as he finally won the game and is basking in his spoils, swinging his dick around, feeling like King Shit. And then Mew played that recording and LOSER TIME. I have the distinct impression that Top hates to lose...

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends #only friends series #bl meta series

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kookie-doughs · 5 months

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Daddy Cupid: The Asshole

Modern!Donquixote Doflamingo X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 2: I'm literally the best stop complaining

The question of why you hadn't blocked Doflamingo's number had crossed your mind several times. The answer, you supposed, was that you kept it in case there was an emergency or something related to your father's persistent matchmaking efforts. But every time he sent you a barrage of messages, you questioned that decision.

This morning, you woke up to a whopping 41 messages from Doflamingo. As you scrolled through them, you realized that they ranged from him checking up on you, to him insulting you for being injured in the first place, and even included a series of videos where he flexed his wrist to prove he was perfectly fine.

His face was definitely not something you wanted to see first thing in the morning, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to block him without him coming to harass you afterwards.

Of course, Doflamingo isn't the only one who had your number. Among the various messages some are from friends like Smoker and Buggy, one message stood out and grabbed your attention - it was from Marco. Your heart skipped a beat as you read his message, curious about what he had to say or if he had any explanation for the awkward situation from yesterday.

You smiled at Marco's message, appreciating the prospect of a pleasant lunch to lift your spirits after dealing with Doflamingo's antics. You replied with the name of a good diner you knew, and when he confirmed the plan, you slumped onto the couch, contemplating what to do while you waited for lunchtime to arrive.

Excitement for your upcoming date with Marco filled you, and you decided to share your anticipation with your friends. You posted about how thrilled you were for the date and took the opportunity to block everyone related to Doflamingo from seeing your posts (sorry Law, i can't trust you). You wanted to ensure a peaceful and enjoyable day ahead.

As you looked at your excited post about the date your dad had set up for you, a strange feeling washed over you. Why were you so excited about this? It was yet another one of your father's matchmaking attempts, something that had become more of a burden than a source of joy.

The realization made your happy bubble burst, and a frown crept onto your face as you pondered why you had allowed yourself to feel this way about a situation you had little control over.

Feeling a bit more reluctant this time, you decided to dress more casually than the day before. Your preparations were quicker today, and you arrived at the diner in a more relaxed state, hoping that today's date with Marco would turn out better than yesterday's unexpected encounter with Doflamingo.

As you sat down at the diner, you tried to banish any thoughts of Doflamingo from your mind. However, your efforts were in vain as you saw the man himself walking towards you with a smug, shit-eating grin on his face. It seemed that he was determined to make your day miserable once again.

"Oh, love, I didn't know you'd be here. How perfect!" he cooed.

You prayed, hoping Marco would arrive already, as ignoring Doflamingo became increasingly difficult with each breath he took.

"Y/N sweetheart~ what would you want to eat hmm? you know since your disabled right now~ i can feed you and all that i wouldnt want my darling straining her hand. im just that sweet" Doflamingo sang.

"I can feed myself just fine," you retorted, struggling to maintain your patience.

Just as you were about to lose your cool, a ray of hope appeared in the form of your doctor, entering the diner. His smile brought instant relief as he approached your table.

"Hey, doc!" you called, your scowl turning into a smile. "Fancy running into you here. Three time in a row, aren't you lucky?"

He chuckled, "Maybe it's fate that brought us together."

Curious, you asked, "So, what brings you to this place?"

"I'm actually here for a lunch date," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Ah, a date?" you replied. "Where's the lucky person?"

"I have no idea," he laughed, "My dad arranged it and didn't tell me much, except that it's his friend's daughter."

Your eyes widened in realization. "Wait, Doc, is your name Marco?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "You've seen me twice now, and I had my name tag on both occasions." He laughed

Doflamingo, who had been hovering nearby, didn't seem thrilled with Marco's arrival. His confident demeanor wavered as he realized you might be genuinely interested in getting to know Marco better.

You couldn't help but laugh at your own obliviousness. "I guess I was too focused on my wrist to notice your name. Sorry about that."

Marco continued, "So, are you two on a date?"

You quickly clarified, "Oh, no, not at all. He was just asking for food." You stressed pushing him away. "Although I think, we're the ones who's supposed to be on a date."

Doflamingo, however, seemed unfazed by your attempts to distance yourself from him, and just glared down Marco.

As Marco and you exchanged introductions, the atmosphere shifted subtly. It felt different from the forced encounters your father arranged. There was a genuine sense of curiosity and interest in each other.

You took a seat at the small corner table, Marco joining you. Doflamingo, looking slightly put off, hovered around, but you chose to ignore him. You were more focused on Marco, trying to get to know the person behind the doctor you'd seen thrice this week.

"So, Marco, tell me about yourself. I've only heard about you briefly," you said, genuinely curious.

Marco leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I'm a doctor, as you know. I recently moved to Grand Line to work at the hospital here. I enjoy reading, running, and cooking. And I have an inexplicable fondness for cats."

You chuckled, finding his quirks endearing. "That sounds nice. What made you choose a career in medicine?"

"It's a long story," Marco replied with a shrug. "But mainly, I wanted to help people. Plus, I'm a bit of a science nerd."

You nodded, appreciating his dedication to his profession. The conversation flowed effortlessly as you talked about your own interests and experiences. Marco was easy to talk to, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than you'd expected.

Meanwhile, Doflamingo seemed increasingly irritated by the situation, occasionally making snide comments and eye-rolling gestures. You tried to ignore him, but his presence was hard to ignore.

Eventually, you decided to order your meals, continuing to enjoy the conversation. It felt different from the forced setups your father orchestrated. With Marco, there was a genuine connection, a sense that you might have more in common than you'd initially thought.

Despite Doflamingo's interruptions and attempts to annoy you, the lunch date with Marco turned out to be surprisingly pleasant. You couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a bad match after all.

He interrupted your conversation with Marco several times, making snide remarks and trying to draw your attention back to him. It was clear that he wanted to assert his dominance, proving that he could disrupt your day no matter what.

However, you were determined not to let Doflamingo ruin your time with Marco. You politely but firmly asked him to leave your table, but he wouldn't budge. His persistence was infuriating, and it became a battle of wills between you and the persistent man.

Despite Doflamingo's best efforts to annoy you, Marco remained composed and understanding. He didn't engage with Doflamingo's antics but instead focused on your conversation, as if he could block out the interference. His unwavering support and patience impressed you even more.

You nod towards Doflamingo, annoyance evident in your expression. "How do you manage to tolerate him?"

Marco lets out a chuckle. "Well, growing up in a household with at least 19 brothers can prepare you for dealing with all kinds of personalities. Edward adopted a lot of kids after my mom passed away, so I've had my fair share of interesting characters around."

Your conversation continued, but alas, Doflamingo always wins. His antics grew tiresome, and you decided it was time to end the lunch and escape the annoying man's presence. You politely excused yourself, thanked Marco for the pleasant time, and promised to meet him again soon.

"As long as it's not about your wrist." You both laughed.

As you left the diner, you couldn't help but feel that Doflamingo would continue to be a thorn in your side.

Doflamingo pouted, "Hey, I thought your dad liked me. Why is he introducing you to others?"

You shrugged, "He doesn't like you; he likes every bachelor in this city."

Doflamingo confidently declared, "That's me. He likes me. Tell him you don't need to meet others; the great me is already taking his time meddling with the likes of you."

"God I hope you stop."

"I'm superior to that Marco guy in every way. I'm smarter, stronger, taller, you name it."

"Mhm, congratulations. Now, could you please go away?"

"Why go on a date with him and not me? Rayleigh said he also suggested me?" Doflamingo asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

You turned to him, a mix of disgust and confusion on your face. "Please tell me that's not a genuine question," you replied, unable to comprehend how Doflamingo could believe he was a better choice.

"Well, I guess your puny, stupid brain can't comprehend my greatness," Doflamingo quipped with a smirk.

You scoffed in response and rolled your eyes, refusing to engage further in his arrogant banter.

Doflamingo continued with his arrogant comments as you walked together, making you grit your teeth in frustration. After a few more minutes, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Thinking it was finally time to get away from him, you walked ahead and leave him behind. However, you realized you had arrived back at your place.

You looked back at Doflamingo, who stood there, glancing around and occasionally locking eyes with you.

You blinked in surprise, realizing that Doflamingo had indeed walked you all the way home. You stood there, staring at the doorknob, not quite sure how to react to this unexpected situation.

"Are you seriously struggling to grasp the concept of opening a door? You've been standing there for a good ten minutes," Doflamingo jeered with his signature arrogance.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked in disbelief at his audacity. Staring at the doorknob as if it held the secrets of the universe, you stammered, "I-I..."

Doflamingo's mocking tone left you flustered and at a loss for words, making your response little more than an incoherent mutter.

Fueled by frustration, you exclaimed, "Whatever!" and slammed the door shut behind you. You rushed away, hoping to find a way to escape from Doflamingo's relentless presence. However, as you peered out, your heart sank when you realized he was still there, watching your every move with that infuriating smirk.

Your face burned with frustration as you stomped towards the elevator. Once you reached your apartment, you rushed inside and peeked out from the balcony, half expecting Doflamingo to still be standing by the door. To answer your question, he was walking and was a few meters away.

He had walked you home and even waited until you entered your apartment before departing. The whole situation left you confused.

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