#I suppose she is actually present for a tiny bit

[pencil-n-pen]

EYE TO EYE, THIGH TO THIGH

. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

──────────────────────

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue! reader

previous part | masterlist | kofi

this is a sequel but it can be read as a standalone!!

summary: you’ve done it. you’re actually dating the Rafe Cameron. He’s everything you didn’t think he’d be. So maybe you’re a tiny, little bit in love with him.

cw: honestly not much considering this is a rafe fic, relationship insecurity, references to past bad relationships i guess? rafe is rafe and reader is reader :P

tags/tropes: Rafe spoiling reader bc i feel like we didn’t get enough in the last fic, relationship insecurity, fluff, reader is secretly shy and has so much anxiety she just hides it by being a bitch (me too girl) reader feeling safe enough with Rafe to be soft, squishy, shy, and girly-girl <3

a/n: okay so yall at that last fic up i am surprised i will admit. also guys pls appreciate the fact that the color scheme for the first fic was blue and now it’s pink. also fairy warning, the tone of this fic is way different than the first one, we’re highlighting reader’s insecurities so she’s not as maneater-black cat. Rafe is showing her she doesn’t have to be all of that with him :) He loves spoiling his girl <3

title taken from Little Bit by Lykke Li —the original, not the remix— aka the sequel’s anthem. i highly suggest giving it a listen (especially while reading !!)

──────────────────────

݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

Despite projecting confidence and arrogance, you don’t actually know that much about relationships. It’s easy to act like you know better when you know better, and for the most part, you do.

After that fake relationship fiasco, you had to be painfully honest with yourself about what you would and wouldn’t tolerate in a future relationship, if you ever were to get in one.

And now you are in one with the least likely person you ever thought you’d start dating, and well. You kind of feel like you’re bracing for pain that —hopefully— won’t come.

You’ve upheld a strong belief that all relationships are terrible to some extent. The bickering, the clinginess, the cheating. Lack of chemistry. Lack of physical attraction.

None of these things are present in your relationship with Rafe. Except the bickering, but it’s not real fighting. Rafe just enjoys riling you up so he can kiss you senseless after. It’s a hobby of his.

Your first and only real argument thus far was about your house.

“My dad is a real estate developer,” He’d said, jaw tight. “And your house is the size of a fuckin’ postage stamp. Just let me fix it.”

“Rafe, that kind of renovation and repair costs thousands of dollars. Not hundreds, thousands. I can’t be indebted to your family like that.”

Rafe had just groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, baby, you need to get this through that thick fucking skull of yours, but we’re rich. Filthy. Fucking. Rich.”

He’s enunciated the last three words, practically spitting them.

“And you’re my girl. I am your boyfriend. I’m your provider. I take care of you. That’s my job. Can you let me do my job? Can you afford the repairs? Look at me in my eyes and tell me your job at that cafe is going to pay for the renovations.”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. Look, it’s a win for everybody. You get your house repaired for free, and my dad gets to boost his public image. He’s always stressing about that.”

It was hard to complain about things while you were staying in their mansion during the repairs —which, shockingly, didn’t take long. You suppose your house is pretty small and the damage wasn’t that bad.

Your stomach churns with guilt every time you think about all the money that it cost to have the work done. Money you didn’t pay.

It keeps you up at night, a constant, disgraceful, litany.

Money money money money money money money money money money money money money—

So you finally decide to approach Rafe about it.

He’s seated at his desk, headphones on, playing some game with Topper and Kelce.

You peer over his shoulder, trying to figure out if this is a game he can pause or not.

You should wait then, he’s busy, and like, he’s going to think it’s stupid. Actually, maybe you shouldn’t ask him at all—

“I can hear you lingering back there. Do you need something, baby?”

“You can’t hear me,” You grumble, stepping forward so you’re lingering next to him, instead of behind. “I don’t need anything. Just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Ooooooooo!” Topper and Kelce both coo, their voices tinny and barely audible through Rafe’s headphones.

“Shut up, both of you,” You say, leaning down to rhe microphone on the side of Rafe’s headphones, “Neither of you have girlfriends.”

“Yeah,” Rafe chuckles, “The bitchless don’t get to say anything.”

“Rafe, don’t call girls bitches.”

“But you call girls bitches.”

“That’s because I am a girl. And a bitch.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re not supposed to understand it.”

He shakes his head then pushes his headphones partway off his head. “What’d you need to talk about? Something important?”

You shake your head. “It can wait.”

He frowns, muttering out a quick “bye assholes,” To Topper and Kelce before clicking out of his game and taking his headphones off.

He spins in his chair, facing you. “How’s it work that you call me a dickhead without shame but can’t tell me when something’s wrong?”

You shrug. “Cause sometimes you’re being a dickhead.”

“And the other part?”

A slight, embarrassed flush begins to creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“Mmm,” He hums, clearly dissatisfied. “What did you want to talk about?”

You steel yourself.

“I don’t want you spending so much money on me anymore.”

“Absolutely not.”

His words are firm and resolute, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

It’s a good thing you were graced with the ability to make room for an argument. Runs in your family.

“Rafe,” You start, crossing your arms- to which he immediately rolls his eyes with a groan, “I’m serious. You gotta stop. It’s too much.”

“It’s not.”

“It is! It keeps me up at night, worrying about all the money I owe you—“

He drags a hand down his face. “I’m going to stop you right there, because you’re being stupid again. You don’t owe me anything. Why do I spend money on you, baby?”

“Because… you have poor spending habits?”

He rolls his eyes again, reaching forward to grab your hands in his, tugging you forward. “I spend money on you because I like to.”

“I don’t know why.”

“You’re not supposed to understand it,” He says, parroting your earlier words back at you. “Seriously. There’s no way in hell I’m going to stop spending money on you.”

You sigh, and he squeezes your hands consoling.

“I know, I know. Must be so hard having an unlimited budget and a hot boyfriend.”

“Shut up.”

He pulls you down for a kiss, something gentler than usual. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Despite what he said, your guilt prevails. Then, it sticks its greedy little fingers into your brain and takes root, and suddenly you’re thinking about all the other ways Rafe spoils you. And surely it can’t last, right?

It’s a little twinge when he picks you up from work. (it’s not that far from his house, but multiple trips is a lot of gas, and gas isn’t cheap and that’s more money—)

It’s a prickle on the back of your neck when he insists you borrow his clothes or use his shower. (Luxuries, because his clothes are so much better made than your own and imagine the water bill with another person using the shower—)

And sometimes —it sounds stupid but you can’t help it— he’s just too hot. You just look at him- at the set of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones and the rippling muscle of his bicep and how he fucking smells, and you just can’t seriously believe that he’s yours. (He always says he’s your boyfriend with such emphasis on the word yours. Like he belongs to you, not the other way around.)

You hate it, because really, you need to enjoy what you have, because it’s what practically every girl dreams of having, but the fear, the guilt— it’s invasive. A little parasite that eats away at your confidence. Makes you feel just a little sick, all the time.

“Alright,” Rafe says one day, pulling you aside into the travel section of Barnes and Nobles —the most secluded, because who even uses the travel section anymore?— and leveling you with a look. “You need to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wro—“

“Don’t give me that shit,” His voice lowers, “We’ve been in here for nearly thirty minutes, and you haven’t picked out one book. You haven’t even looked at one. For you, that’s like the apocalypse. What’s wrong?”

You freeze, panicked. “I think we should break up.”

“No.”

“Wha— You can’t just say no.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps. “Yes I can, because that isn’t the issue.”

“Yes it is, this isn’t working out—“

“Yes it is.”

“Are you just going to refute everything I say?” You hiss.

“I am because you’re lying, right to my face.”

He leans down so you’re face to face. “I’m gonna ask one last time. What’s. Wrong.”

“I don’t know!” You explode, whisper shouting. “I don’t know, Rafe. I don’t know if something’s wrong with me, or if we’re not compatible or what. I just…”

You sigh, slumping. “I feel so guilty, all the time. For all the money you spend on me, and all the stuff you do for me. I feel like a bad girlfriend, and I feel like you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

He leans back against a bookshelf. “So when I spoil you, the thing that’s my job as a boyfriend, you feel guilty?”

“Yes.”

“And you think I’m doing this because I don’t think you can take care of yourself?”

“Yes? I don’t know.”

He gazes at you for a beat, eyes flicking over your form.

“If you would just tell me the name of that guy—“

“No. You would actually kill him.”

“He’d deserve it.”

“Not the point here, Ray.”

“Kind of is,” He mumbles, turning his head.

You’re both silent for a few moments, and you’re sure you’ve gone and ruined things when he speaks again.

“Tell me what you need.”

Your shoulders hike up to your ears. “I don’t know what—“

“Yes you do,” His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at you. “Tell me what you need. Use your words.”

Your skin feels hot and flushed.

“You’re not going to like it.”

He sighs. “You get all up in your fuckin’ head about stuff and you never stop to ask if I even care.”

“You—“

“I’m obsessed with you. I will always give you whatever you want, every time you ask, whenever you ask. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“That you’re obsessed with me, and you’ll always give me whatever I want, every time I ask, whenever I ask.”

He hums, satisfied. “Good girl. Now tell me what you need.”

“Reassurance,” You breathe, a rush of words and air. “It’s stupid, because—“

“Don’t start with your independent woman bullshit.”

You frown, but continue. “I just don’t want to be overbearing.”

He snorts. “I don’t think you could be overbearing if you tried. You hardly ask for anything. Crank it up, baby.”

You groan, stepping forward into his awaiting arms and smashing your face into his chest. “But that’s exhausting.”

He wraps his arms around you, slowly rocking you side to side. “And doing everything yourself isn’t?”

“Different kind of exhausting.”

“Mm. I see.”

You pull away, peering up at him through your lashes. “Are you really obsessed with me?”

His lips twitch. “Is that all you got from that conversation?”

“It was the only important part.”

He leans down and plants a kiss on your nose. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who hasnt noticed.”

He tugs on your hand, leading you back through the store and letting you wander through your favorite sections, this time stopping to actually look at things. Every time you step away without handing it to him he pushes you back, giving you a stern look.

“I don’t want to get the whole store, Rafe.”

“You could.”

“You’re not helping.”

With effort, you manage to thin the stack to the ones you actually want, not just everything you’re interested in. Rafe gives a huff but allows you to put some of the books back, but only under the promise that you’re not doing it because “you’re being stupid again.”

When you get back to the car, small stack of books in your lap, you decide to give the whole ‘asking for things’ a go.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Are you upset with me?”

The rumble of the engine starting reverberates through the car. “No.”

“Are you annoyed with me?”

“Hold onto your books, I’m turning. No.”

“Are you planning on being upset with me anytime soon?”

He squints at you. “Is this going to take long?”

“Depends on your answer.”

“No.”

“No to what?”

“Your dumbass question.”

“It’s not a dumbass question.”

“Yes it is. Who the fuck plans to be upset with someone?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“You’re so lucky I’m obsessed with you.”

—

“Rafe?”

“Hmm?”

You’re sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his head pillowed on your thigh, arms wrapped around your waist. It’s a warm evening- his bedroom window is cracked open and the salty breeze wafts through the room, pleasantly cool air coming with it. You’re wearing a matching set of silk pajamas— they were expensive as hell and probably one of the only things you don’t feel bad about Rafe buying for you, just because they’re so damn comfortable.

His eyes are closed in contentedness as you slide your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. He’s forgone a shirt tonight, and if you look closely, you can see goosebumps left in the wake of your slow, deft hands.

“Before we started dating- that time in the car. You said you like me because I’m mouthy and stubborn. But I’m not really that mouthy and stubborn now. Do you like me less?”

He squeezes you tight. “Doesn’t your brain have an off switch?”

“No.”

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, his throat vibrating against your legs as he does it.

“Okay, first of all, you’re still mouthy and stubborn as hell, just in a different way. And no. I don’t like you less. If anything, I like you more.”

You worry your lip between your teeth. “How come? I thought most of my appeal came from the challenge.”

“That’s bullshit, baby. I like that you’re mouthy and stubborn. I also like that you’re soft and squishy too.”

His hand drifts lower, kneading flesh as it goes. “Really like that you’re squishy.”

“Mm. I think I’m a little too squishy.”

He presses his face closer to your tummy. “Are we talking physically or metaphorically here? You’re losing me.”

“Mm. Bit of both.”

His nose presses into the plush flesh. “No.”

“Just no?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He squeezes you once, then relaxes again. “Please go back to rubbing me, baby. Your hands feel so fucking nice.”

“Where do you want rubbed?”

“Anywhere. Jus’ wanna feel you.”

He falls asleep before the sun sets fully, breaths tickling your stomach and arms still firm around your waist.

The guilt starts to whither.

—

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask him for something before he can offer. You’re gonna do it. It’s not hard. You can do it.

You slide into the passenger side door, leaning over to give him his customary kiss.

“How was work?”

“Can we please stop at that coffee place I like on our way?”

He blinks, taken back by your request for a moment. He recovers quickly, a smile tugging at his lips as he gives you another kiss, this one a little more heated than yours.

“Of course we can. You want that drink you like? The one with the cold foam?”

You nod, trying to discreetly rub the sweat from your palms onto your pants.

“Aww, look at you,” He coos, “So worked up over a little coffee. You spent your whole shift worryin’ about this, didn’t you?”

“Not the whole shift.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“It’s just a little coffee,” He teases, “No need to start worrying.”

“Too late.”

“Then we better go get that coffee, huh?”

He stretches his arm across the console, hand finding the meat of your thigh and just resting on it. It feels almost like a reward.

—

He catches on quick that you are, actually, trying to ask for things. Even though your skin prickles a little bit everytime, because you can do these things yourself, of course, but Rafe always gets this pinched look on his face when you insist on doing something yourself.

Rafe says that you’re the weird one in this scenario, not him. That most girls jump at the chance to sit back and let their boyfriend’s do all the work. But that just doesn’t sit right with you. It feels… unequal. If he does everything, if he takes care of you, then what are you bringing go the relationship?

“Your hot ass, for one.”

You swat his arm, sitting on towels on the beach in front of his house.

“I’m serious Rafe!”

“When are you not?”

You swat at him again, but he just chuckles, pushing up so he’s leaning back on his elbows. “Any chance you’d be satisfied with the ass answer?”

You give him a look.

He sighs. “Figured not. Okay,”

He rolls over, lying on his stomach and staring up at you. You cross your legs, absentmindedly taking his face in your hands.

He tips his head into your palms. “Permission to get mushy?”

“Permission granted.”

His eyes, nearly the same shade as the ocean behind him flit over your face before he speaks. “Well for one, you don’t take my shit. Pretty sure my family likes that about you.”

“As if you actually listen.”

“Don’t interrupt, I’m being mushy for you. You take care of me too. It’s cute as shit. You don’t even realize when you’re doing it. You’re doing it right now.”

You frown. “I am?”

“Mhm,” He taps your hands on either side of his face, “Just like this. So stop worrying about it.”

“But like, this doesn’t require any effort and I like doing it, and—“

He raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, you maybe have a point,” You concede, brushing a thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. “But it still doesn’t feel equal. I’m not doing anything, really.”

“You are. Don’t sell yourself short, angel,” He presses a kiss to your palm, then turns back to you, hand sliding over yours. “I promise you. It’s fair.”

“You promise?”

“Mhm.”

“You have to say you promise.”

He leans up and captures your lips in his, slow and soft and warm. The kind of thing that makes your stomach flip and your insides melt.

He pulls back, lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“I promise.”

—

Slowly, slowly, you allow yourself to enjoy things. Enjoy your insanely hot boyfriend, enjoy not having to worry about money- for anything, big or small.

Sometimes you buy something small just for the thrill of it. Sometimes it makes you guilty afterwards, sometimes it doesn’t.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah baby?”

“There’s a sale at Victoria’s Secret—“

“Get in the car.”

Some things he’s definitely more enthusiastic about than others, but, for reasons you don’t understand, he really does just enjoy spending money on you. “Doing his boyfriend duties,” as he’d put it.

A small part of you is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the longer it doesn’t, the more you settle into the comfort and, dare you say it, love that he wraps you in.

“Ray?”

“Hmm?”

You’re at a bonfire at the Boneyard, a scaled down version of the usual event that the bonfires end up being. Not a big turnout tonight— probably because of the cold snap threatening to turn summer into fall.

Rafe comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and dipping his chin into your shoulder, lips warm and soft where the meet the skin of your neck.

“You need something, sweetheart?”

You hum for minute, thinking. Sometimes you just want him near. You’ve come to learn you’re actually a very tactile girlfriend— when your boyfriend actually makes you feel loved and cared for.

“Can we go home soon?”

“Of course baby.”

“We should stop and get some food. M’ a little hungry.”

“Yeah? We can stop wherever.”

“And I was thinking,” You pause, the teeniest curl of apprehension poking your chest, “Maybe we could go out tomorrow? Go to a couple shops?”

He mouths the side of your neck, breath warm. “I think that’s a great idea. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause I get to show off my girl. My beautiful,” He sucks at the skin of your neck, a shudder running through you, “beautiful girlfriend.”

“Mm, what about me? Don’t I get to show off my handsome, sexy boyfriend?”

He grins against your skin. “Anytime you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

You aren’t either.

݁˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.9k - i will never not be a yapper

summary: ah, my favorite little adorable pair. part three of the meddling series. reader wants to thank azriel for being so kind to her since her arrival at the house of wind several months ago. she gifts him with a silver chain. azriel loses his mind. fluff, so much fluff.

warnings: none, except for potential cavities from the sweetness.

a/n: this was the brain child of a post that i made thirsting over azriel wearing a chain & rings. someone commented on that post and suggested i incorporate that into this series. and here we are. probably my favorite piece of writing that i've done so far, ok. i'm simple. pining azriel makes me weak. enjoy! <3

read part one & two

you clutched the tiny, wrapped gift box in your hands, your fingers moving to glide along the cobalt blue silk bow adorning the lid.

you felt jittery, nervous. butterflies had taken flight throughout your chest and belly, relentless wings swirling.

you supposed this gesture wouldn't strike azriel as odd, or out of left field. after all, the male had been going out of his way for you for months.

his warm, kind gestures toward you as he sat next to you during your first dinner at the house of wind - you'd been so petrified, but he took you under his wing (literally). the kind, soft eyes he'd given you. he'd served your plate, giving you hushed anecdotes about each dish so you could choose what you'd wanted to indulge in. you hadn't admitted it, but you only chose to try azriel's favorite foods.

then, the sweater. he'd given you one of his oversized sweaters to snuggle into. you'd mentioned to him one time that you often froze, no matter the weather conditions, and he'd somehow remembered that detail - presenting you with the best solution he could muster. now that you knew him a bit better, you weren't sure if he'd actually remembered you admitting how cold you always were, or if that fact was just something he was able to observe himself. he was the spymaster, after all. maybe you were just easy to read.

if you were to actually ask azriel, he'd say that he remembered every word you'd ever spoken. every detail, every slight reaction. and it wasn't because it was his job to do so - wasn't because rhys had ordered him to watch over you seven months ago upon your arrival to the house of wind. no, you no longer needed his watchful eye. you were settled in, comfortable, part of the family.

he remembered the words you spoke because he hung onto every word that left your lips.

today, you sat in that favorite armchair of yours in the private library on the third floor - as always. you glanced over to the large shelf closest to you, a smile slowly spreading across your lips as you took in the romance books neatly lined before you. the romance books that azriel had removed from an obscenely tall shelf that was completely unreachable. to you, at least - unless you felt like scaling the entire thing.

he was so observant. he'd noted your favorite genre, remembered that you struggled to reach that row of books. took time out of his day to rearrange the entire left side of the library in favor of making you more comfortable. and now, here you sat. your favorite novels within arm's reach at any given moment, all because of this achingly kind male.

yes, he deserved this gift. he'd done so much, you wished you were able to bestow him with more. you were wearing his sweater again today, but this one was different. he's since presented you with four more sweaters from his closet, although he hadn't grown less bashful about offering them over to you - even though your reaction is always the same. blushing, bright eyes staring up at him in wonder as you grip the fabric and hold it to your melting heart.

and azriel, he revels in those moments. he can't help the sense of pure pride that warms his entire body from the inside out. he couldn't stop doing things for you if he tried, your smile and twinkling eyes circulating throughout his bloodstream like the first hit of a drug so strong, it threatened to bring him to his knees.

you took a deep breath, eyes flitting towards the elegant grandfather clock to your left. he'd normally stroll into the library around this time each day, joining you to read in silent, comfortable companionship.

and, like clockwork, that feisty, stray tendril of shadow that you'd come to love twirled through the crack in the wooden double doors with a flourish. it darted straight towards you, as it always did - worrying over you for a moment each time it found you. you'd imagined it was giving you a general once-over to make sure you were safe and content. it was much like its master in that regard.

the shadow looped through your fingers and hands, taking notice of the gift box that was sitting on your lap. it focused its attention there momentarily, swirling through the silky bow that matched the color of azriel's siphons - a detail you'd hoped he didn't find weird.

azriel made his appearance a second later, pushing through the doors with a book held under his arm. he moved with so much grace, despite his tall, muscular frame. he was astonishing to watch, even if the action was something completely mundane. tearing your eyes from him sometimes felt impossible, the allure he possessed was almost suffocating - but in the sweetest way.

he didn't even try to hide the fact that his sights were set on you immediately. he used to give a sweeping glance of the entire space before he allowed himself to find you, but now, he looked for you first - and you were always there. he felt any lingering tension within his body melt into the floor beneath him.

"hey, you," you spoke tenderly towards him, and the smile that he gave you made your chest warm.

he approached you, as he always did, unable to stay too far away. his eyes raked down your torso, never tiring of the feeling of seeing you in his clothing.

"i think this one is my favorite on you," he noted, eyes turning to molten honey as he took you in.

you preened at this, making a mental note to don this particular sweater a little more than the others.

"i, uh, i have something for you," you started, extending the small gift box towards him. now you knew how he felt, waiting to see if you'd accept the items of his clothing each time he presented you with them. you held your arm out without wavering, even though you felt a bit silly now.

his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink, and he studied the box in your hand for a moment. it wasn't lost on him that you'd chosen a bow that was the exact color of his blazing siphons. he felt his heart lurch against his ribcage at the realization.

"it's just a little something," you started again, voice woven with a nervous undertone at his continued silence. "i wanted to thank you for being so kind to me since i've arrived," you cleared your throat. "you've really made this place feel like ... like a home," you finished, giving him a shy, tentative smile. he could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pleading with him to accept it. you didn't have to beg him - well. maybe he'd like that, in other circumstances. however, not now, not for this.

a small smile spread across his lips at your last words. a home. he'd made someone feel like they were home, and that was enough of a gift for azriel. several times since meeting you, he'd felt as though his heart was swelling uncontrollably, growing beyond the confines of his chest. like you were somehow nurturing and tending to it. this was one of those times.

he reached a scarred hand towards the box, taking it from you gently. "y/n," he traced the bow with his fingers, slowly tugging the ribbon apart. "you really, really didn't have to do this. i just wanted you to be comfortable here, with us," he flicked his soft eyes towards yours, and you were doing that thing you did when you were nervous - fiddling with your fingers. he wanted to grab your hands then, run his lips along your knuckles, kiss each fingertip slowly. i will love it no matter what it is, he thought to himself, please don't be so nervous.

you dipped your chin at his words, huffing a small, breathy little laugh. "well, i am, az. comfortable here. with you," you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and azriel trembled with the urge to gently place the delicate gift box aside in favor of gently tugging your delicate body towards his instead.

he took a deep breath then, composing himself, as he lifted the lid from the box. inside was a custom-made, silver curb link chain. one that was long enough to rest right in the middle of his clavicle. small, glimmering cobalt blue stones were hand-set throughout - only able to be seen when the light hit them a certain way. but when the light did hit them, they were stunning. the surface of the gems danced with the fragments of light as though they were on fire, alive.

this made him think of you: the light that found his shadows, setting him aflame.

his breath caught in his throat, and he lifted the chain from the silk pillow that it rested on. he loved it. absolutely, wholeheartedly, loved it. it was powerful-looking, strong. the best gift he ever remembered receiving.

now, you'd be lying if you said this present wasn't also - maybe, sorta kinda - for your benefit. his strong, tanned neck hugged by a silver chain? gods. okay, yeah, this was slightly indulgent on your part.

but, in your defense, azriel had begun sporting silver signet rings on several of his elegant fingers. you thought a similarly-fashioned chain would tie the look together nicely. this was just a product of your own observant nature. really, that's all it was.

...

azriel let out an exhale of astonishment, meeting your eyes with widened ones of his own.

"this, is - i mean. beautiful. this is - thank you," he breathed out, setting the now-empty box, and the book he'd been cradling under his arm, down beside you. he gently began working at the clasp of the chain, his movements so careful, you could tell he was trying his hardest not to break it - ruin it.

you stood up before him, taking a step so that you were right in front of his towering frame. "here," you whispered, tenderly taking the chain from his hands. you unclasped it with ease, standing on your tip-toes to reach behind his neck - wanting to place it on him. he ducked his head for you politely, allowing you to see what you were doing a bit better.

you were so close to him, and with his head ducked down towards you, his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder. you fought every instinct within your body that was screaming at you to move closer, breathe deeper, inhale his scent, touch him.

but you didn't. you held your composure, clasping the necklace around his neck - making sure to be careful of his wings.

azriel had his eyes closed, also fighting similar urges of his own. he wanted so badly to rest his face within the crook of your neck, wrap his arms around the middle of your back, tug you into him.

two lovesick idiots, silently pining for the other.

necklace now adorning his neck, you stepped back. azriel stood to his full height once more, and he peered down at you with a gaze that he fought to keep friendly - instead of one that screamed complete adoration.

"well," he croaked out, swallowing thickly. your eyes darted to the movement, watching his adam's apple bob beneath the silver jewelry.

you were fucked.

"how's it look?", he continued, his hand reaching towards his neck to trace the smooth, curbed chain.

it was your turn to swallow hard, which of course, he noticed. he fought a smirk, especially when he witnessed your cheeks growing hot.

you pursed your lips together, trying your best to think of a response that wasn't akin to a dog barking.

"it's -," you sighed thoughtfully, smiling warmly up at him, "you look very handsome," you stated playfully, hooking a finger underneath the chain, tugging him towards you lightly.

he faltered for a moment, almost stumbling into you. not because of your light tug, but because of your words. handsome. he loved that compliment - was one of his favorites. however, the one bit of praise that always sent him to his knees was being called pretty.

"so pretty, az," you whispered again, seemingly more to yourself than to him, eyes caught on his neck.

okay, so now azriel was fucked.

a/n: okay, i think this was my favorite installation of this series so far. i'm giggling and kicking my feet, and i'm the one writing it lmfao. azriel is making me WEAK, i need to lay down now. let me know what you think! thank you for reading <3

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun @topaz125 @mrsjna @lovegoodlunaa @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @luna9876 @kennedy-brooke

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[littlegrapejuice]

Fan First, Girlfriend Second | IH6

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x Reader

Summary: Isack brings you along to see Jannik Sinner, your favourite tennis player. He might regret it when he notices your attention is not on him, until he remembers that you're his no matter away.

Author's Note: i fear I'll never move on from this🤗 ngl it's kinda best we don't have a pic of them together bc i wouldn't survive it like I'm already unwell enough lol❤️ anyways i hope y'all enjoy this lil thing i wrote in honour of my fav rookie watching my fav player (can we believe i wrote this in less than 24h??)

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

Isack didn’t think much about it when he invited you to come to Roland-Garros with him and his mum.

Following a successful triple header, you and Isack were back in your shared flat in Paris. And what better activity than to go to the tennis tournament that was currently ongoing in the same city?

Isack did not follow tennis as much as you did, but he enjoyed the sport and was definitely excited to see a match with you. Especially when it was one of the semi-finals, featuring the number one player and one of the ‘big three’.

However, he should’ve thought about two things.

One: Isack had never watched a match with you. Not even on TV as you usually watched the tournaments alone while he was either on training or racing.

Two: you were going to see your favourite player.

So with those two factors combined, Isack was in for a treat.

When you arrived at the stadium, you were like a kid opening presents on Christmas Day while Isack was acting way too casual for your liking.

“Isack, on est à Roland-Garros.”

“Je sais.”

“Roland. Garros.” You gestured around you, as a way to emphasise your words.

“Je sais”, he repeated with a chuckle. He was amused at your reaction, finding it cute that you were so excited to be there.

Despite living in Paris your whole life, you had never been to Roland-Garros. When you first started watching tennis, you were still a student. So every year, the tournament was during your last weeks of classes. And you could’ve gone, to be honest. But it was probably not worth it to go watch tennis while you were supposed to study for your exams, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to fully focus on either thing.

So you were truly over the moon to be there for the first – and hopefully not the last – time.

While you were admiring the place and taking pictures of the iconic Philippe-Chatrier court from outside, Isack did a couple media duties with the tournament staff. His mum had stayed with you, preferring to spend time roaming around the stadium with you. She even turned into your personal photographer for a bit, enjoying your obvious happiness. You two then met Isack again a bit before the match would start so that someone would take you to your seats.

When you entered the court, your hand went straight to your mouth. It was even more impressive in person, and you really couldn’t believe that you were actually there. You thought that it couldn’t get any better, but it did when you saw the view from your seat.

The best in the house: slightly above the court, not in the middle, and literally right next to where the players would enter the court. But more importantly, the seat was in the width and not the length of the court.

“Oh my God…” You were so close to the court, you could see the tiny details that made Roland-Garros iconic like the recently unveiled plate in honour of Rafael Nadal or the smooth white lines not yet covered by the clay. “This is crazy.”

Isack was really having a field day watching you look around to take in everything. He didn’t dare interrupt you, noticing how special this was to you. Suddenly, he decided that he would do his best to bring you here every year if it meant that you would be as happy as you were right now.

Soon enough, it was time for the players to enter the court and this was the moment when Isack realised that he should’ve thought more before inviting you to come with him. Because when Jannik Sinner – number one in the ATP rankings and your favourite player – appeared in your eyesight, it was like you had turned into a whole other person.

Isack hadn’t expected it, but you suddenly stood up – which he noticed you hadn’t done for Novak Djokovic – and cheered so loudly that Isack would be surprised if the Italian player hadn’t heard you. He almost felt betrayed, wondering if you were also cheering as loud as right now whenever Isack scored points during a race.

It was then, that Isack realised he didn’t stand a chance against Jannik. Your attention would solely be focused on the match for the next three hours, barely acknowledging your boyfriend outside of the changeovers and in between sets. It also didn’t help that the Italian was playing really well today, which meant that you didn’t want to miss even one point.

Isack wasn’t exactly mad; tennis was one of your favourite sports – if not the favourite, F1 be damned – and he understood that you were simply enjoying the moment. But he had to admit that the way your gaze followed Jannik’s body made him a bit insecure.

Jannik Sinner was objectively good-looking, and Isack knew that you did find him attractive as he remembered you ranting about the hottest tennis players on the circuit. The Italian was taller, leaner, and his confidence on court was one to admire.

Maybe it was a one-time thing. Maybe it was just the excitement of seeing your favourite player for the first time. So Isack let it go and stopped overthinking it. He just enjoyed the match as much as possible, cheering and clapping when a point was well won.

For your pleasure, Jannik won the match after three hours.

“Straight sets once again, wow.” You were mostly talking to yourself, but Isack acknowledged the impressive statistic. You could only clap and cheer for Jannik, truly amazed at his game and the fact that he would play his maiden Roland-Garros final in two days.

“I take it you enjoyed the match?” Isack’s mum turned towards you, a smile on her face.

“Hundred percent yes”, you answered with a passionate nod. “It’s just insane, like– that doesn’t feel real. Merci beaucoup de m’avoir invitée”, you thanked both Isack and his mum. You were truly grateful for them, and would genuinely remember today as one of the best days of your life.

“C’est normal”, she told you before taking your hand in hers. “I’d be a bad mother-in-law and my son would be a bad boyfriend if we didn’t treat you well.”

The smile on your face widened, and you squeezed her hand to keep showing her your gratitude.

You then quickly turned your attention back onto the court, noticing that the mic had already been set up for the usual post-match interview.

While Jannik talked about the match and his opponent, you internally cursed the side of the court where you were seated because you could only see Jannik’s back. Still, you were hanging on to every word the Italian was saying.

In this moment, Isack almost wanted to drag you home and keep you all to himself. But that was until his mum had to make a comment:

“I forgot, but who’s the player we’re meeting after that?” She asked.

This immediately made you turn towards Isack, unsure if you had heard the words well.

“We’re meeting one of them?” You desperately needed Isack to confirm that it would be Jannik, as hope filled your eyes.

“Hmm, yeah…” Isack scratched the back of his neck.

“Who?” When Isack didn’t answer, you didn’t know if it meant that he was sparring you with the disappointment of you not meeting your favourite player. “Isack, qui?”

“We’re meeting the winner”, he admitted. “So, Sinner.”

Those last two words were all it took for your brain to short-circuit. You couldn’t believe it. Meeting Jannik Sinner? You thought. That has to be a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. Soon enough, you were being evacuated from the court before a staff member found you. She brought you three to a room where you would be waiting for the player, and told you that he would come before his press conference.

“I’m so unwell”, you dramatically stated. “I think I’m gonna be like– hyperventilating or some shit, and faint.”

“You’ll be fine,” Isack reassured you. He gave you a side hug, rubbing your shoulder as a means of comfort.

It seemed to have somehow worked, and you treated it as a win when Jannik entered the room without you crying.

“Hi”, he just said before going to personally greet you individually. "Thanks for coming." Jannik first shook Isack’s mum’s hand, being his best polite self. Then, he dabbed up Isack as if he were his long-time friend. “Isack, right? Nice to meet you.”

“You too, mate. Great match out there”, Isack congratulated.

“Thanks. I saw your recent races, you’ve been doing good in the last couple weeks.”

“Yeah, the triple header’s been treating me well.”

Jannik nodded in agreement before he turned to greet you with a smile.

“Hey, hmm… hi, sorry.” You gulped, nerves taking over you. “Congrats, that was a superb match.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, and you were done for. “You guys were sitting near the entrance, right? I think I noticed you.”

“She’s been cheering for you like crazy, so it’s no wonder. You probably heard her before seeing her”, Isack teased.

“Isack! Chut!” You blushed, not wanting him to embarrass you in front of Jannik.

“Maybe”, Jannik somewhat confirmed with a chuckle. “I won’t complain about having such a lovely fan rooting for me, though.”

Now, Isack was regretting even introducing the topic because you were beaming at Jannik’s words.

Thankfully for Isack, but unfortunately for you, your time with the player was now up due to Jannik having to go to his press conference. Two things were left for you to do: hug Jannik – literally a life goal – and take a couple pictures with him because you needed to immortalise this moment forever.

Then, it was the two athletes’ turn. While Isack and Jannik took professional pictures, you could only admire them. Your boyfriend and your favourite player together? You were definitely printing and framing the photo as soon as you would get your hands on it.

One could have thought that your eyes were on Jannik, probably looking at the Italian and still not believing that he was real – which was kind of true. But actually, you were focused on Isack. The thing you currently couldn’t believe was how lucky you were to have him. You would forever be grateful to him for bringing you here and being the reason why you had been able to meet Jannik.

Today had meant the world to you, and you would do your best to repay Isack however you could.

When it was really time for you to say goodbye to Jannik, you were once again looking at him as he had hung the moon. He gave you the brightest smile known to mankind – the one that made him seem like the sun’s personification – and you could only reply with a smile as well, your cheeks still flushed from the previous interaction.

Glancing at you, Isack decided that he wasn’t really mad nor insecure anymore about the whole situation. He just had to accept that you were a fan first, gilrfriend second. Because even if he didn’t truly stand a chance against Jannik, he was the one going home with you at the end of the day. He was the one whom you fell asleep next to, and he was the one who could enjoy your smile whenever he wanted.

..........

I fear i will never write anything as quick as i wrote this😭 still feels insane how the inspo went 📈📈 as soon as i saw isack on my tv

If it wasn't common knowledge yet, i am a HUGE tennis fan and have been for several years already!! This year was my 1st time going to roland garros and I'm still not over it, so it feels even more special to write smth in which i can include my own feelings/impressions

I promise i have not forgotten ab max and the rookies👀 grid mum part 6 (european triple header) is in the drafts and I'll hope to post it before canada (ik i always announce a deadline and then i don't respect but y'all are used to it atp)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[1d1195]

Normal People - Extra I

Read Normal People here | ~2.8k words

From me: from a lovely anon's request. **Reminder: I really didn't like this story by the end of writing it, so please don't be too harsh; it's a little all over the place as always💕

Warnings: mostly fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

Summary: Harry is finally older and wiser. But wisdom comes with hindsight. And with hindsight comes with the knowledge that he is really missing her.

Harry wondered if she thought about him the way he thought about her. She was never too far from his mind. He wouldn’t say he was obsessed, not really. It was more like that space between a dream and reality. She was just there right at the edge of his subconscious always lingering. He liked it. It was a warm feeling to have her at the edge of his thoughts. Like a hand holding his at all the time. It was comforting.

They didn’t work out. Not in a bad way. Their relationship ran its course, and they were meant to be there for each other in university and then drift. But now Harry was almost thirty. Time seemed to be speeding up and slowing down at the same time. He felt like he was missing something but just like her phantom hand, he couldn’t quite place it.

Harry liked himself a lot more. She made him feel like a much better person than the one he was in school and all those horrible “friends” he surrounded himself with. He had a cute little niece thanks to Gemma and his mum was likely his best friend. He had a good job and was well-liked and respected there. Overall, he was just happy.

But sometimes he missed her presence more than he realized. He had a couple other girlfriends after her but when time sped up (usually when he saw the little girl that looked like his sister growing as he was actively watching her) he thought he was missing something more.

Or someone.

He was sitting in his office mixing pieces of music together and finishing songs that someone recorded last week. His skill was top notch, and he supposed he would always thank her for reminding him he should pursue what he loved, whether she heard his thanks or not. The melody and harmony of this particular song fit so well together that it didn’t even need lyrics, Harry was emotional just hearing it.

How sad he would have been if he wasn’t a part of this process. If he didn’t get to hear beautiful sounds every day and get to be the person that helped make good music great.

Some days were long though, and the music didn’t always sound right. Sometimes Harry had to sit with the keyboard in front of him and play note by note until he found the perfect fit. It was worth it in the end. However, it made for those longer days when he needed more caffeine. He would slink out of the building whether it was warm or cold and head to the coffee shop closest to him.

The long days were the only time at present in which he was sadder than any other normal day. It wasn’t like before; but it was when he felt like he was missing something. Like he had walked into a room and forgotten what he needed from it. It happened sometimes when he hadn’t seen his niece, and he just knew she was growing, and he was missing it. Or his mum was aging, and he wasn’t around her enough. Wasn’t soaking in enough of her wisdom.

That he wasn’t in love anymore and he hadn’t been since university.

He pulled the collar of his coat around his neck a little tighter and turned his face away from the blustering wind as it chilled his body. The walk was short enough and the chill actually felt good. Like a shock and reset to get the juices flowing again to get him out of his little rut. A little caffeine and he would be as good as new.

He had no plans for the coming weekend; Gemma was visiting her in-laws and his mum had plans with friends. He was going to be a bit lonely. Maybe he would read a book or watch a movie. He really needed to call Niall and catch up too.

There were about four people ahead of him in the coffee line. Texting Niall was a good use of his time and maybe he would have an idea for the song he was working on.

“Harry?”

Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. His subconscious was joking with him.

His heart skipped a beat and then sped to about a thousand beats per minute. He nearly dropped his phone in his sweaty grip. He turned to the sound of her voice, and she was smiling at him. She looked beautiful as always. That wasn’t any question he would ever have. She looked the same as the last time he saw her—when university ended and so did they. Her eyes held the same warmness as he remembered and so did her smile. It was like he was being hugged, and she hadn’t even said anything more to him than his own name. It had nothing on the phantom feeling of her presence in his mind. This was infinitely better.

“Kitten,” he mumbled dumbly. Her grin brightened.

“How are you?” she asked and reached out giving his arm a squeeze. He was going to forget all about her lingering presence now that he had the pleasure of feeling her in the flesh again. “It’s good to see you.”

“S’nice t’see you too. M’good, how are you?”

“Really good,” she nodded. “I just moved to this town actually, my job promoted me to a new office so...here I am.”

“Oh, that’s great. Congratulations,” was he smiling too much? It felt like he was smiling too much. How was he supposed to react? How was he supposed to remain normal in this moment?

His heart was beating too fast. His mind felt like it had turned to mush. She was so beautiful and so lovely. Harry was completely tongue-tied. What was he supposed to say to her? He missed her for so long. Whether their relationship ran its course or not, he knew he wanted her back in his life.

“How about you?” She asked.

God bless her for doing all the heavy lifting in the conversation. Harry was going to end up drooling all over the coffee shop floor because he couldn’t get his mind to work. “Uh, yeah. I work in town too. A music label. I do a lot of the editing and mixing stuff,” he wasn’t even sure if that was what he was actually doing anymore. Nothing in his mind was working at full capacity. It was just thinking of the pretty girl he loved for so long and how lovely she was even after he was a disaster. Harry was a mess.

She grinned. “That’s amazing, I love that for you,” she said cheerily. “How’s your mom and Gemma?”

“Lovely, Gemma had a baby,” he quickly held his phone out and showed her his background of the sweet baby he adored so much. That was something he could focus on. His little niece was his favorite part of his life at present.

Well, until she said his name a moment ago.

She gasped softly. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Tell her I’m so happy for her, that’s amazing. Congratulations Uncle Harry,” she rubbed his arm again. “I’m happy for you too.”

He swallowed, feeling his face warm with her praise. He didn’t deserve it. She was too kind and too good. “You look...happy,” he murmured.

She smiled. “I am. Really happy. You look great, Harry. Handsome as ever,” she winked and stepped out of line tugging him along with her. “Do you still have my number?” She asked.

Harry thought he had swallowed a bug and he nearly choked. “Uh... yeah,” he would never delete it so it was still listed in his contacts somewhere, he had to take the hearts off her name but it was still there.

“Call me sometime,” she squeezed his hand. “I’d like to catch up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, if you’re... you’re sure?” He asked.

She nodded, smiling so beautifully, and so brightly it was stunning. She was stunning. “I like that we’re kind of tied together, Harry. After all these years... You’re still one of my favorite people.”

Harry felt nauseous in the best way, and he wondered what on earth he did to deserve someone as beautiful as she was. As forgiving and kind.

Simply put, as perfect as she was.

*

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. It felt almost wrong to be this happy. Especially after everything. But it was so easy. Better. Everything was so much better. Harry loved her loudly and quietly. He said things like “I have t’check with m’girlfriend—no I don’t need her permission, but s’polite,” and his friends all smirked at him glad he found someone that he adored so much. At work they noticed a shift in him too. He was open, happy, bubbly. He was more productive and prouder of his work.

She was the best influence on him.

After a few short months of reconnecting, Niall helped them move into a small little house that needed a good amount of work. They were covered in paint and wood shavings on weekends. Her face was often concentrated on her phone as she watched endless videos to repair their little paradise together.

She was so good with his niece. Gemma said it was like she was meant to be her aunt. She rarely frowned. Only sad movies and books could make her sad these days. She marched herself back into Harry’s life unapologetically and Harry couldn’t thank her enough.

“You are the best thing t’ever happen t’me, kitten,” he pressed a line of kisses along the length of her neck. He did it in public when they waited for a table at their favorite restaurant. He had no qualms of kissing and touching her in public. “M’not sure who decided we should be together, but m’forever indebted.”

She merely laughed. “I always thought we were kind of meant to be together,” she shrugged. “Even when I was sad,” she explained. “You were always a bright spot in my life.”

Harry felt like shit knowing he, in all the shittiest parts of his life, was the bright spot in hers. When he was having a bad day and thought nothing was going right, he thought she deserved so much more. He had no issue telling her so. Groveling and wishing she would make him feel a fraction as bad as he had made her feel.

But she couldn’t. Because she was always too sweet. She turned from her spot in front of the kitchen sink, pulling him toward her with soapy hands and Harry looked at her with an ache in his chest. She was so cute, so pretty, so lovely.

He just wasn’t. Not on bad days. On the days when he felt worthless and shitty that she was worth everything good he didn’t feel good at all.

“We were kids. I’ve had a lot of time and therapy to work through that stuff Harry. You should too, you don’t need to feel bad anymore. Look how happy we are,” she reminded him with a kiss to his lips. “You make me feel special and loved every minute,” she promised him, and she looked so at ease. As if she had forgotten all the bad. Maybe she had. She was good like that, better than him of course. Harry wasn’t sure he could let it go. How could she continually forgive how shitty he was to her? His shirt was getting damp from her hands and they both ignored it. She gestured out the window soap bubbles fluttering about them. The blinds shaking softly in the breeze coming from the spring air. There were birds chirping, squirrels hopping across the yard, and the sun making the flowers bloom in their garden.

“Life doesn’t bloom like that when there’s no love,” she said knowingly.

Harry took a deep breath, buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. She was the best. The most perfect thing in his life and he would spend forever groveling if it allowed him to keep her just like that.

*

“M’fiancée’s going t’love that,” he said to the woman behind the jewelry.

Her faith and confidence in Harry were something to be admired. It made him feel so much better. Or maybe it was the therapy sessions that she encouraged him to partake in. They were finally helping him come to realize that what he did was shitty, but she forgave him over and over. And the person Harry was now, wassomeone very different from back then. Harry had to forgive himself too.

“Is it a special occasion?” The woman asked as she packaged the earrings up for Harry.

“Just Thursday,” he smiled sweetly with a shrug.

The woman looked giggly. “Wow,” she murmured to herself. “What a lucky lady.”

“S’the other way around,” he assured her as he handed his card over the counter to her. “Deserves nothing but the best,” he explained signing the receipt and gave a wave. “See y’next month,” he winked.

Niall was sitting with her on the patio while they drank lemonade, or maybe it was spiked lemonade, but he handed her the little gift bag all the same. “Buying her affection?” Niall asked.

He shrugged and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe.”

“He already had it,” she giggled and rolled her eyes at him. “Stop buying me stuff,” she pouted.

Harry headed back to the house to get the food she had laid out on the counter for dinner. Harry would be grilling something for the three of them while she did sides or something. He ignored her request because he would never stop buying stuff for her. She deserved every love language and Harry would give her each one.

*

“M’wife loves the flowers from here. She’s making a garden in our backyard. We want a spot t’have picnics with the baby,” he explained. He was creating a gardening basket. A homage to her mum and a way to bring her closer to the grandchild she would never meet.

“When’s she due?”

“Next month,” he smiled proudly.

“Boy or girl?”

“Not sure, we’re trying t’keep it a surprise.”

“That’s lovely.”

Harry paid for the items and in the parking lot he put all the items into a basket. She would be irritated that he bought more things for her but he couldn’t help it. She was so lovely and deserved the best.

He found her out in their backyard, lying on the ground, her tummy round, a hand on top of it. The skirt of her dress fluttering, by her shins. She was staring up at the sky watching the clouds talking quietly to the little one inside her.

“Hi kitten,” he grinned setting the basket on the ground behind her. “What was y’plan here? Did y’get stuck?”

She smiled and turned to look at him. She shook her head. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I figured you’d be home soon to rescue me.”

He gently coaxed her to sitting and placed himself behind her, her back pressed to his chest. Carefully he lifted her lower stomach ever so gently. “Oh fuck,” she whimpered.

“Shh, kitten,” he chuckled. “Not in front of our little one.”

“She’s heard worse.”

“She?”

“I wanted a lot of chocolate today.”

“I see,” he chuckled. Yesterday she used “he” because she had the intense craving for pizza and beer (and when only one of those cravings could be satisfied, she frowned at her stomach and told him he was sucking all her beauty away—which was false. But it made Harry love her more).

“I love you,” she sighed.

“Me or the baby?”

“I was talking to you, but I love this one too,” she rubbed her stomach. “Did you buy me more stuff?” She asked.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Harry,” she sighed.

“M’obsessed with you,” he peppered kisses into her neck and smiled against her skin. “M’not sorry ‘bout it.”

She shook her head but there was a smile as she turned her head toward his chest. “What did you get me?”

“Nothing important. Let’s jus’ sit here a minute,” he turned her a bit more so he could see her pretty face, her eyes covered by sunglasses. He kissed her deeply.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Harry Styles,” she mumbled.

The little one made her quite turned on these days. Which was unlike anything Harry could explain (not that he wanted to—it was special and only for them). “Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles.” She giggled and cupped his face kissing him again and again and again. “You can have whatever y’want of me,” he reminded her. They were just in love after all that time, two regular people who found each other again despite everything and loved more than they ever thought.

And if they continued to kiss inappropriately in the privacy of their own backyard then no one would be the wiser.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter @fandomxo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[lovetaroandtaemin]

More Than This

Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

Word Count: 4,494

Genre: Fluff, Smut, a hint of angst, non idol AU

Rating: Explicit. MINORS DNI!

Summary: You realize you have feelings for your neighbor after you get your heart broken.

Warnings: Unrequited love that is later requited, Mingyu is a tiny bit of a dick?, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie, a tiny bit of biting. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: This fic was a (slightly) late birthday gift for the lovely @lavnderwonu! I'm so sorry about how late it was. Regardless, I hope your birthday was as awesome as you are, and I hope you like the fic! I also want to shout out the absolutely fucking awesome @jenoslutie once again for helping me plan this fic! Your feedback was so unbelievably helpful during the writing process.

Taglist: @xomakara, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo, @gyubakeries

Fic is under the cut.

The day that Jeon Wonwoo moved into the apartment next to yours was a complete and utter mess. The chaos of the day had nothing to do with your new neighbor, though. It started as soon as you woke up, actually, when your alarm went off an hour after you’d intended to set it, making you late for work. When you finally arrived, you realized that you’d missed the time slot allotted for the presentation you were supposed to give that day, so it needed to be rescheduled. On your lunch break, you got a call from your mother telling you that she urgently needed your help planning the most poorly coordinated baby shower you’d ever had the displeasure of being involved with for a friend of hers. So, by the time you finally got home, a new neighbor was the least of your worries.

Still, when you got a knock on your door about an hour after you’d arrived home from work, you answered it, assuming that it was your mother or one of your friends coming to you because they needed something. When you opened your door and saw the attractive man that had actually knocked, however, you realized just how much of a mess you looked compared to him, the stress of the day evident from your disheveled appearance and on-edge demeanor. Despite your appearance, however, you forced a smile and introduced yourself before you said, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“That’s because we haven’t. I’m Wonwoo. I just moved into the apartment next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Wonwoo.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of you before you said, “Well, I hope you like the neighborhood! I’d love to talk more, but I had a really shitty day at work, and I have a lot of stuff to do. I hope that I see you around, though!”

“I’m sure you will. I live right next door, after all,” he said with a soft laugh.

You smiled before you said, “Goodbye!” and shut the door to your apartment.

Once your door was shut, you finally started to relax, making yourself a cup of tea and watching terrible romance movies until it was time for you to go to bed. While you watched, however, you couldn’t help but think about Wonwoo. Sure, you knew it was probably just because you were curious about your new neighbor, but the man had already firmly planted himself in your mind, and you were anxious to get to know him better.

Wonwoo knew it was stupid, but he thought you were gorgeous from the moment he laid eyes on you. Sure, you were clearly not doing great, considering your disheveled appearance and thinly veiled stress, but that didn’t take away from the face that your eyes seemed to sparkle when you introduced yourself or the fact that your smile made him feel weak in the knees. Still, there was no way he was even going to try to get into a relationship until he was actually settled into his new apartment. So, he decided to ignore the feelings that were beginning to bloom in his chest for the time being.

A few days after your first meeting, you invited Wonwoo over to your apartment for dinner, hoping to get to know him better. He happily accepted, and you spent the evening preparing a recipe that you’d found online and wanted to try. Once it was ready, you texted Wonwoo, and not even five minutes later, there was a knock on your door. With a smile on your face, you smiled and said, “Hi! How are you doing today?”

“I’m doing well; thank you! How are you today?”

“Work was a lot, but I’m ok. Would you like to come in?” you asked. He nodded, and you moved out of your doorway to let him into your apartment.

As Wonwoo walked into your apartment, he looked around and said, “This place feels really cozy.”

“Thank you. That was the goal when I was decorating.”

“Well, you definitely succeeded,” he replied with a shy smile, hoping you couldn’t tell how much he already liked you.

Trying to ignore the way you felt your face heat at his compliment, you asked, “Are you hungry?” He nodded, and you showed him to your dining room, where you already had two plates ready at opposite ends of the table. “It’s nothing fancy, just something I found online. Let me know what you think, though! I’ve been looking for something to make for a family dinner next week.”

“I will. Thank you.”

For the most part, the meal itself was awkward, but you still tried to get to know your neighbor better. In between bites of the food you’d made, which was surprisingly good considering that you’d found the recipe on Pinterest, you asked, “So, what brought you to this area?”

“I wanted to be closer to my family. I grew up here, but I moved away for college. What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met before, then.”

“I mean, I’ve always kept to myself for the most part. It’s entirely possible we went to school together and never interacted.”

“That’s true.”

There was a brief awkward silence before you said, “Well, if you need any help settling in or unpacking, just let me know.”

“I will. Thank you.”

The rest of the night was relatively uneventful, with casual conversation and a handful of awkward moments, like when Wonwoo asked you if you had a boyfriend.

“No, I don’t. Not really interested in anyone like that right now, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” he replied frantically, like he wasn’t expecting your answer.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered, though you weren’t sure if you believed him.

The conversation continued to be incredibly awkward for a while, but once you and Wonwoo actually relaxed, you found yourself having a lot more fun than you initially expected. You even continued talking to him long after the meal was finished, so invested in your conversation about the books you were reading and music you liked to listen to that you didn’t notice how late it was.

When you finally did notice that it was nearing midnight, however, you said, “Oh, shit! I am so sorry I’ve kept you this long.”

“It’s totally fine,” he replied. “I should probably go home and get some sleep, though. Could we maybe do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, of course. That sounds great.”

With that, Wonwoo left your apartment and went back to his own, leaving you alone with your thoughts of him. Honestly, you weren’t really sure what to think, but you did know that you wanted to spend more time with him in the future.

And spending more time with Wonwoo was exactly what you did. Pretty much every night that you weren’t busy with extra work or family obligations, either you were at his apartment, or he was at yours. Whenever you spent time with him, you laughed about the silly things that had happened over the course of your day, told stories about your favorite moments in life, and bonded over shared interests, like books and music. Sure, you hadn’t known Wonwoo for very long, but you already considered him a close friend.

One of the things that you loved most about spending time with Wonwoo was that there was no expectation for you to be something you weren’t or spend all of your time doing something for him. All he wanted was for you to be yourself, and that made you feel more loved than you ever thought that you could feel. You could only hope that he knew how happy you were that you had a friend like him in your life.

A few weeks after Wonwoo moved into your building, you made another new friend in the form of Kim Mingyu, your brother’s new roommate. You met Mingyu when you were visiting your brother for the weekend, and Mingyu answered the door instead. Of course, Seungcheol had told you that he had a new roommate, but he’d failed to mention just how handsome Mingyu was. When you finally saw him for yourself, you swore that your heart skipped a beat.

You were so distracted, you almost didn’t notice an unfamiliar voice asking, “Can I help you?”

“Shit, sorry, yeah. I’m (Y/N), Seungcheol’s sister.”

“Oh, yeah, he told me you were coming. Come on in,” he said, moving out of the doorway. Once you were inside, he said, “You know, ‘Cheol told me about you, but he left out just how beautiful you are.”

You laughed softly and said, “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, hush,” he said with a smile.

The two of you continued to go back and forth like that for a while before you heard Seungcheol clear his throat and say, “So, I guess you two have met?” There was an awkward silence before he added, “Anyway, how about a board game?”

“That sounds great,” you answered with a laugh.

You, Seungcheol, and Mingyu spent hours playing Monopoly, yelling at each other every time there was an attempt at sabotage, and laughing at the failed attempts and joking fights. You had a lot more fun than you expected to, especially enjoying the way that Mingyu flirted with you whenever your brother wasn’t around.

When it was finally time for you to go home after staying with Seungcheol and Mingyu for the weekend, Mingyu said, “It’s been really great getting to know you this weekend. I hope I see you again soon.”

“I hope so too.”

“Before you go, could I get your number?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

With that, you and Mingyu exchanged numbers, and you drove back to your apartment. When you got back to your building, Wonwoo was standing outside his apartment and fumbling with his keys. When you saw him, you smiled and asked, “Do you need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m ok. Where were you?”

“Spent the weekend with my brother and his roommate.”

“Did you have fun?”

You giggled and said, “I definitely did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wonwoo asked, turning to face you with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Just that my brother’s roommate is really sweet.” Wonwoo rolled his eyes at your comment, and you laughed as you added. “I need to go take care of a few things. It was nice to talk to you for a little bit, though.”

“Yeah, see you later,” he said, his tone flat and unexpressive.

With a sigh, you entered your apartment, taking some time to relax in the quiet before you did some light cleaning. Once you were done, though, the first thing you did was grab your phone and text Mingyu.

Y/N: Just wanted to say hi and tell you again that I really enjoyed getting to know you this weekend. Hope I get to see you soon!

Mingyu: I hope so too, gorgeous.

You did end up seeing Mingyu again about a week later. He called you in the morning, offering to take you to a café by his apartment, and you happily agreed. When you got there, you were a little worried that you’d gone to the wrong place, not seeing Mingyu anywhere, but after a few minutes, you heard a familiar voice behind you say, “Well, hello gorgeous.”

You turned around with a smile and said, “Hi, Mingyu.”

“How are you doing?”

“A lot better now that you’re here.”

He smirked and asked, “Do you wanna go in and get some coffee?”

“That sounds great.”

Mingyu hesitantly took your hand after that, relaxing when you squeezed his hand, and the two of you walked into the café. You each ordered a coffee and a muffin, too nervous about the fact that you were on a first date to even consider straying from your usual orders. Still, as nervous as you were, you were twice as excited. After all, Mingyu was gorgeous, and the conversations that the two of you had over good coffee and better muffins were the highlight of your weekend.

When you and Mingyu were both finished with your drinks, you smiled and said, “I had a really nice time today.”

“I did too. We should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, we should,” you said softly.

With that, Mingyu kissed your cheek and walked you to your car. Once you were inside, he left to find his own, and you drove back home.

About a month after you started seeing Mingyu, you decided to introduce him to your friends by hosting a game night at your apartment. Most of them loved him, gushing about how sweet and attentive he was when it came to you. At some point, however, Mingyu left the room to use the bathroom, and that was when you found out how your neighbor felt about your boyfriend.

“I don’t trust him,” Wonwoo mumbled as soon as Mingyu was gone.

“Why?” you asked, hoping the rest of your friends weren’t paying attention to your conversation.

“Something about him doesn’t seem right,” he replied, desperately trying to hide the frustration he was feeling over seeing you with someone that wasn’t him.

“Maybe he’s just nervous. You were super awkward when we first met, too. Remember?”

“I remember. This is different, though.”

“How?” you asked, but Wonwoo refused to answer. So, with a sigh, you said, “Nevermind.” Mingyu came back shortly after that, and the game night continued with no further problems.

Once the games that were planned for the night ended, your friends and Mingyu left, leaving just you and Wonwoo in your apartment.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you said, “Good night, Wonwoo.”

“Good night,” he said, leaving your apartment to go back to his own.

After Wonwoo left, you thought about what he’d said. Was there a reason to be concerned about your relationship with Mingyu? You didn’t think so, but then again, you tended to ignore people’s faults, especially when it came to how they treated you. Still, you hadn’t noticed any red flags. Not wanting to act too soon, you decided to just wait and see what happened.

As time went on, your relationship with Mingyu felt almost perfect. Sure, you didn’t love how argumentative he was, and there were a handful of times that you noticed him checking out your friends, but for the most part, you were happy. You loved Mingyu, and despite the way he acted sometimes, you were certain that he loved you.

Wonwoo, however, was not as sure as you were. Every interaction that he had with Mingyu made him trust your boyfriend less, and he was certain that it wasn’t just because of his own feelings for you. Every time Wonwoo expressed his concerns to you, however, you wrote them off, reminding your friend that Mingyu just tended to be a little awkward. Wonwoo knew that you were just making excuses, but he knew better than to push.

You found out exactly why Wonwoo didn’t trust your boyfriend when Mingyu knocked on your door late at night on a random Saturday, almost a year after you’d started dating. When you opened the door, he looked almost guilty, and you couldn’t figure out why. At least, you couldn’t until he looked you in the eyes and said, “I think we should break up.”

“Shock” did not even begin to describe what you were feeling in that moment. Had you done something wrong? Was there something going on that you didn’t know about? Why was he all of a sudden breaking up with you when earlier that day he’d told you he wanted to spend forever with you?

You had no idea at first, but you didn’t have to wait long for an answer. With a deep sigh and a pained expression on his face, Mingyu said, “I’m sorry. I met somebody else.”

A thousand thoughts swirled around your brain in that moment, but you did your best to stay calm as you said, “Oh.”

The awkward silence that permeated the air around the two of you after that felt suffocating. You had no clue how long it lasted before he said, “I’m sorry,” and walked away.

Once Mingyu was out of your line of sight, you shut your front door and started to cry like you hadn’t cried in a very long time. The pain of losing the man that you loved felt all-consuming, and you couldn’t even begin to think of doing anything but crying for what felt like hours.

Eventually, when you did stop crying, you started to wonder if it was too late to make plans with any of your friends. After giving the matter some thought, you decided to try to call Wonwoo and ask if he would come to your apartment.

Wonwoo was sitting in his living room reading a book while soft music played from his CD player when his phone started to ring. With a groan of frustration, he put down his book and turned the music off, picking up his phone. His demeanor changed in an instant, however, when he saw your name on his screen.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi,” you answered, trying not to show that you were upset. “Are you busy?”

“No, not really. Are you ok, (Y/N)? You sound upset.”

And that was when you started to sob for the second time that night. You continued to cry for what felt like far too long until you finally started to calm down. At that point, you just said, “He left.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mingyu. He left me. He showed up at my door just long enough to tell me that he’s leaving me and went on his merry way.”

“Shit. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Can you come over?” I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in five minutes, ok?”

“Ok.”

With that, Wonwoo hung up the phone and rushed around his apartment, gathering snacks that he knew you loved and grabbing a bottle of his good wine before making his way next door. When he knocked on your door, it took a grand total of thirty seconds for you to open it and pull him inside. Once your door was shut, you held onto him for dear life and sobbed.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Wonwoo said, his voice soft and warm like your favorite blanket. “Do you want a drink? I brought my good wine over that I’ve been saving.

With a few deep breaths, you were able to stop crying just long enough to say, “That sounds great.”

With one more deep breath, you let go of Wonwoo, and he set the bags down before carrying the bottle of wine to your kitchen and asking, “Where do you keep the glasses?” You told him, and he grabbed two of them off the shelf before pouring wine into each of them and handing you one.

You took a sip and sighed before you said, “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to be here when you need somebody.”

With the ghost of a smile starting to appear on your face, you asked, “What’s in those bags you were holding when you came in?”

“Snacks. I brought those chips you really liked last time you came over and a few other things I thought you’d like.”

You softened and said, “You didn’t have to do that,” before continuing to drink your wine.

“I know. I wanted to.”

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol now entering your system or the way that Wonwoo looked at you as he spoke, but you already felt significantly better than you had when you called him. You even found yourself the slightest bit attracted to him, which honestly caught you by surprise. You thought that it was far too soon to get involved with someone else, though, so you decided to keep your mouth shut for the time being.

God, Wonwoo thought that you were absolutely beautiful. He didn’t know if it was the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the way you smiled at him like he actually mattered to you, or both, but he knew that he wanted you. The last thing that he wanted was to push you into something that you weren’t ready for, though, so he kept his feelings to himself.

As the night went on, and the wine flowed freely, you felt significantly better, thanks to Wonwoo. He made you laugh like Mingyu never could, he had no expectations of you like Mingyu did, and most importantly to your drunk and slightly horny mind, he was fucking gorgeous. Of course, you knew that you shouldn’t have been thinking about your best friend that way, but you also knew that you no longer cared about what you should have been doing in that moment.

That was probably why you thought, “Fuck it,” and kissed him.

To say that Wonwoo was surprised when you kissed him was a vast understatement, but he was in no way upset. He’d thought about how your lips would feel against his from the moment he saw your smile for the first time, and now that you were actually kissing him, he felt like he’d died and gone to Heaven.

There was a brief silence when you pulled away as both of you processed what had just happened. Wonwoo was the first to break it, mumbling something that sounded like, “That was amazing.”

You smiled and whispered, “Can I do that again?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond to your request verbally. Instead, he pulled you as close as he possibly could and kissed you himself. This time, however, the kiss felt different. “Hungry” was the best way that you could describe it. Like you were the only thing he wanted in that moment.

A soft whine slipped out of your mouth as he deepened the kiss, and he pulled away just enough to smile and say, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Because there are some other things I’d rather do instead.”

“Like what?”

“You.”

The way he said it so casually caught you by surprise, in all honesty, but you weren’t opposed to the idea. Especially because of how he made you feel. If just kissing him felt so good already, how much better would going further than that feel?

You must have been lost in thought for too long, since Wonwoo nervously said, “If that’s not ok, we can just forget it ever-”

“Please?”

With a smirk on his face, Wonwoo said, “Not here. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in a bed. Where’s your room?”

You didn’t answer his question verbally. Instead, you took his hand and led him to your room. Once you were there, you gently pushed him back onto your bed, straddling his lap and kissing him. He bit your lip softly, and a moan slipped out of your mouth. With a smirk on his face and a growing erection that you could feel from your place on his lap, he asked, “Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Within minutes, your clothes were on the floor, and you were back on Wonwoo’s lap, carefully lowering yourself onto his cock. You cried out when you finally felt him inside you, and after a few deep breaths, and a few minutes to adjust to his size, you slowly started to move up and down.

Wonwoo was much more vocal than you expected as you rode him, and you loved every second of it. The soft groans that left his mouth were sweeter than your favorite song, and every word he said turned you on more. Like when he threw his head back and said, “Fuck, honey. Doing so good for me.”

“Feels so good,” you moaned, too lost in pleasure to say much else.

You really didn’t need to speak, though. The moans and whines that slipped out as you fucked yourself on Wonwoo’s cock made it abundantly clear just how much you were enjoying the scenario you found yourself in.

Wonwoo couldn’t believe the position he was in. All he’d wanted for months was to feel you wrapped around him, moaning his name as he fucked you, and that was exactly what was happening. The pleasure he felt at your hand was so intense, there were moments that he was certain that it was all a dream.

Of course, dream or not, his release was still significantly closer than he wanted it to be. He wanted to warn you before he came, but apparently the universe had other plans. With a loud groan, he came undone inside of you, pulling you closer as he kissed your neck.

Wonwoo continued fucking you through his release, and your own high came not long after. You tensed around Wonwoo as your orgasm washed over you, and every moment made him fall even harder for you, if that was even possible at that point.

Once you and Wonwoo both caught your breath, you got cleaned up and dressed again before lying down together, his arms wrapped around you and your face buried in his neck. He wanted to talk to you about what your time together meant going forward, but before he could, you were sound asleep. Deciding to talk to you about it in the morning, he drifted off to sleep himself, once again dreaming about you.

The next morning, you woke up next to Wonwoo with a slight headache and sore legs. Before you could even get the words out to ask what had happened, though, he kissed the top of your head and said, “Good morning, honey.”

And that was when you remembered everything. You wanted to be ashamed of how quickly you’d moved on from Mingyu, but because you’d moved on with Wonwoo, you didn’t really care.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?” you asked.

“Fine. How about you, gorgeous?”

“I slept better than I have in a long time.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” There was a brief silence after that, and he added, “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“So, about last night,” he began.

“What about last night?”

“What does last night mean for us going forward?”

“Well, what do you want it to mean?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice.

“Well,” he mumbled, “I’m hoping that it means we’re not just friends anymore.”

“Wonwoo, baby, we stopped being just friends the moment you showed up at my door to make me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry,” you said before you kissed him.

Thank you for reading, everyone! If you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! If you wanna check out my other works, my masterlist is here. If you'd like to see some of the things I have planned to post in the future, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific that you'd like to see, feel free to send a request via asks or dms! If you want to be tagged in future posts, my taglist form can be found here!

Thank you again for reading and interacting with this fic, and happy belated birthday, Erica!

[elodieunderglass]

Elodie could I please get some Killie (or Charlie) lore to rotate in my head, my dad just set off the fire alarm at 3 in the goddamn morning by starting the oven cleaning cycle on the wrong oven and burning an entire batch of merengue cookies that were cooling in the oven and now I can’t sleep and would like to rotate a blorbo to pass the time

(In reference to Killie the jockey OC, who is both portable and eminently rotatable)

Here’s a little sketchy sketch I did a while ago of Killie putting a stock/hunt tie on his younger brother Colm. He takes this very seriously.

There is a lot of simmering internal tension in the Horse Kids - they’re made of nothing else - but here is a specific small part. Helena, their wretched mother, is a tiny posh right-wing English wench of marvellous malevolence. She is very into foxhunting. She is not above killing the fox (you’re actually not supposed to kill the fox.) when well-intentioned left-wing hippies attempt to sabotage the hunt (these are called hunt “sabs” or saboteurs - I have friends who do this!) she makes a spirited attempt to run them down with her horse.

Helena had zero interest in the kids as babies. It’s possible there was a touch of the ol’ postnatal there, and the twins being super-premature and kept in hospital for months probably didn’t help, but it’s still a shame. She did think that she might be more attached to Ciara (not a horrible tiny alien preemie, not a twin, a girl, etc) but it turned out that wasn’t; and she regarded the arrival of Colm with tremendous dismay. However, after Bill and his siblings had chivvied them all through the larval stage, Helena took more of an interest. By their teens, she was genuinely quite interested in Charlie, who could be a very presentable and creditable escort to nasty little horse-adjacent Tory formal events - Hunt Balls and galas - and could be dispatched on various social missions on her behalf. Charles, be a dear and go wind up that baroness - YES, in front of her friends - get her to lose her temper a bit, there’s a lamb.

The twins looked a lot more similar at that age, and paired nicely if you dressed them in matching or complementary suits, so she also liked Killie a bit - what a piquant little pair they were - and Killie was undefinably sharper and handsomer in a way that was very hard to articulate when they were still identical. but Charlie had charm, and Killie had - well - well. Killie.

Anyway, Helena was big into foxhunting! so as the kids got bigger it became a whole thing. Dragging them out to the hunt, the Hunt Ball. stirrup cups and first blooding, cubbing and ratcatching, tying a perfect linen tie with a stickpin.

Killie REALLY does not like killing the fox. None of them do. but Killie - well, Killie doesn’t like dogs much. And Killie always feels secretly quite aware of how bad he is at being human. Charlie helps fill in the gaps, and is a fabulous distraction, but Killie knows exactly how little he fools anyone. If Charlie’s the dog then Killie’s the fox, and the minute they realise that, these people will turn on him so gleefully…

Maybe not. Maybe they won’t.

Maybe if he ties a perfect cravat.

[narnian-neverlander]

Your Villain [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Preview: It’s a few hours and a doctor’s visit later that you’re settled into your bathtub, back pressed against Viktor’s chest and hands stretched out in front of you to examine them in all their bandaged glory. Nothing vital had been injured, thankfully, a bit of rest and some medicine and you’d be good as new. “This is ridiculous.” you complain in a huff, pushing some wet strands of hair out of your face. “I was supposed to be taking care of you.” His arms tighten around your middle in response, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “I am overworked. You had a panic attack and accidentally sliced your hands open. Which one of those sounds like it should be higher up on our list of priorities, hm?”

Genre: hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: blood, injuries, panic attack (reader accidentally hurts themselves during an attack), talk about neglectful/abusive parents & human trafficking, mildly suggestive (Viktor is a menace)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Just in case I haven’t made that clear enough in all my fics, I love Jayce. Jayce haters have no space on my blog, bye 👋

“So what did you think?”

Jayce beams at you from up on the stage in the otherwise empty auditorium, you his only audience. You’d literally run into him on your way to deliver the boys’ food and without waiting for your approval, he’d immediately dragged you off to have someone to practice his presentation for some potential investors with. Most of the technical terms are lost on you of course, but the golden boy manages to make it all engaging and thrilling nonetheless, as you knew he would. There’s just one tiny little thing.

“It’s great. Except you look like you’re about to fall off the stage and start snoring any second.” His smile falters and it only serves to accentuate the dark circles under his eyes, his disheveled clothes and messy hair. If that’s the state he’s in, the one out of the two Hextech geniuses just a tiny smidge better at taking care of himself, you don’t even want to think about the other one. Unfortunately, it is kind of your job to think about the other one. “When did Mel say she was bringing over those potential new investors?”

“Soon.” he answers as he hops of the stage to join you. “Soon as in a few weeks, or a few days, or…?” The way he flinches makes you dread the worst. “Soon as in I think they might already be in her office.” Shaking your head in fond exasperation, you quickly gather your things and head back towards the lab with him. “Cutting it a bit close this time, aren’t we?” He groans as he walks alongside you down the hall. “There’s just been a lot happening at once recently, alright? Besides, they’re only coming by to talk to Mel today, the actual presentation from our side isn’t for a few days.”

He holds the door to the lab open for you and you quickly thank him as you duck inside, immediately zeroing in on the man sat at one of the desks, furiously scribbling into one of his notebooks. Greeting him happily, he replies with, “Ah, you’re back. Hand me those notes you took with you.” Jayce digs through his pile of papers for said notes and leaves them on the desk before coming to stand beside you. “Does he— Has it resgistered with him that I’m here…?” You’re trying your damn hardest not laugh as you pass a sandwich from your bag to the tall brunette; he shrugs while unpacking it. “Eh, maybe. 50/50 chance.” He takes a quick bite and then calls out to his partner again. “Hey V, your lover’s here.”

“That’s great, Jayce.” Deadpan, monotone. So Jayce ups the ante. “Yeah, we thought we’d maybe go on a date later? Or better yet, we skip that and just do it on a desk right here, you don’t mind, right?” A dismissive wave of a slender hand. “Yes, yes, whatever you want.” And you’re laughing while Jayce fondly shakes his head and continues to eat. Grabbing a thermos, you also snatch one of the stools scattered across the room and drag it over to where Viktor’s sitting. You sit down beside him, unscrew the bottle and pour some of the steaming contents into the empty mug still in front of him, then settle down sideways on the desk, arm tucked under your head for comfort as you watch him.

5 seconds. 4. 3. 2. 1. And there he is; blinking as the smell hits him and draws him out of his own little world. Works every time. You snort as he reaches for the mug. “At least now I know where I stand - and it’s below the sweetmilk. Disappointing, not surprising.” He startles, not really expecting anyone else in the lab, much less so close to him, eyes locking onto you and his gaze immediately grows soft. Mumbling apologies, his hand finds the back of your neck, practiced fingers drawing familiar patterns into the skin as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. Placated for now, you get back up on your feet and hug him from behind, arms around his shoulders and lips next to his ear. “How is the most handsome man in Piltover today?”

“Bone tired. But you knew that already, I guess. Pretty good, considering the stress, but it’s all gonna be worth it when—“ he cuts himself off when he finds two sets of judgemental eyes with raised brows on him, matching expressions conveying clear amusement. “And you were talking to Viktor.” Snickering, you answer, “Yes, Jayce, I was talking to the man I’ve been dating for months. I can see how you got confused though, considering our earlier bit. And I’m glad to hear you’re doing well, all things considered, but maybe some rest isn’t the worst idea? Get your mind working properly again?” And because the poor man doesn’t feel bad enough yet, Viktor brings a hand to his heart, clutching at his chest in mock offense and chimes in with, “Oh don’t be too hard on him, we can’t blame him; it’s only natural he’d assume you’re talking to him. Who would ever look at me when Piltover’s very own golden boy is in the room?”

Jayce opens and closes his mouth, failing miserably at trying to come up with a retort; both of you grinning at him like cats playing with their favorite toy, so he simply throws up his hands in surrender and settles on: “Oh, you both suck. You deserve each other.” Still laughing, you plant a quick kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek and then walk back over to the table where you left your bag, intending to grab his lunch. Not that you get very far, as the very familiar handle of a cane loops around your waist and drags you backwards in stumbling steps and before you know it you land in Viktor’s lap with an ‘Ooff!’

“And where do you think you’re going?” he complains, trapping you with him, arms tightly wound around your middle. “To get your food so you actually have the energy to go home with me?” You can feel the protest coming before he even opens his mouth and you’re absolutely not having it right now, not with the way he currently looks. “Darling, your eyebags have eyebags, you’re already about halfway out of your clothes and quite frankly, you reek. So you’re coming home with me, you’re gonna take a bath and then a nap and you’re not gonna argue about it. I just saw the presentation on your current project; it’s perfectly fine, your work is done and you have no reason to stay cooped up in here any longer today.” Tired, amber eyes blink at you owlishly several times before he cocks his head to the side and a sultry smile tugs at his lips and you curse yourself for not just slapping your hand over his mouth when you’d had the chance. “And when do we get to the part where I get to have you for dessert?” An eye roll at his boldness. “Maybe we can talk about it after your nap. Maybe.” His nose wrinkles in disapproval and he buries his face in the crook of your neck before you can stop him, warm breath fanning across your neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake when he speaks again. “Eh, I do not like that order.” You just barely manage to tangle your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug his head back before he manages to sink his teeth into the column of your throat. “Viktor…” you warn, only halfheartedly. He’s even worse of a menace than usual when he’s sleep deprived and you know that. You should know that. And yet you still make the mistake of looking at him.

With the first few buttons of his shirt undone, vest and tie discarded long before you even came into the picture, strands of his chestnut hair sticking up in every direction, partly courtesy of your fingers still keeping his head in place, and pupils blown so wide there’s only a thin ring of gold left, he damn well looks like you’ve already done something indecent. The ‘What…?’ he whispers is perfectly innocent, while the smile on his pretty lips is perfectly sinful. Your lover turns your brain to mush more often than you’d like and he likes to do it at the most inopportune of times. Unintentional, of course, he’d assured you. Right.

“Oh for the love of— I’m still here!” It’s your saving grace, the reboot your brain had sorely needed. “There are times when I liked it better when you two weren’t dating, do you know that?” You get your feet back on the floor and yourself off Viktor’s lap as you teasingly shoot back with, “And do you know that you get mean when you’re sleep deprived? You had a good hand in getting us together, you know, you’re only reaping what you sowed.”

Jayce flips you off with an equally teasing, gap-toothed grin, and of course that’s the exact moment the heavy doors open and Mel walks in. The three of you scramble to look at least somewhat professional in the young councilor’s presence, which includes Jayce immediately shoving his hands behind his back and you putting a good distance between you and Viktor by meandering back over to the table with your things, luckily positioned in a back corner of the lab mostly hidden by machinery, so you simply try to make yourself as invisible as possible; her visit always means business and that really has nothing to do with you, so you try to stay out of it to the best of your abilities.

“Councilor! I didn’t expect you today, what can we do for you?” She trails an elegant hand along one of the desks as she answers Jayce. “Oh nothing much. Your next potential investors were wondering if they could maybe sneak a peak at what they might be investing in.” The two scientists exchange quick glances. “With all due respect, our presentation wasn’t supposed to be until later this week. And to be honest we’re in no shape—“ She interrupts him with a call of his name, soft and amused and the air in the room becomes lighter, less professional. “Their little one asked to see the lab, that’s all. She was quite excited about the entire prospect of you two making actual magic happen here.” Viktor’s shoulders slump in relief as Jayce laughs lightly. “O-oh that’s… yeah, sure, why not.” Mel nods in thanks and then returns to the door, inviting the people waiting inside.

What happens next is mostly political pleasantries and introductions being exchanged, so you don’t really pay much attention, except… you know these voices. At least, you’re fairly certain you do, even if your mind can’t place them in this very moment. Trying to inconspicuously steal a glance at the visitors, you peek around a corner of machinery. You can’t see much, with their backs turned to you; two human adults with graying hair, in fine clothes, adorned with gold and jewels, and a little bouncing ball of energy hopping around them, trying to take in everything in the lab all at once.

“Mama, Papa, look! What’s that? And what do you use this for? Oh, why do you have that thing?”

A soft chuckle.

“My, your mind is as insatiable as always isn’t it, dear?”

And the glass bottle in your hands slips from your fingers and shatters into a thousand little pieces on the floor.

Mama, Papa, look! I’ve never seen any food like that! What do you think it tastes like? Can we get this back home, too?

My, your mind is as insatiable as always isn’t it, dear?

The blood’s roaring in your ears, ‘Oh that’s just a friend who brought over some food, nothing to worry about’ the last thing you hear from Jayce before the rest of the world gets drowned out. You’re on your knees, gathering glass shards in mechanical movements as your heart rate picks up enough for it to be considered worrisome. No matter how hard and deep you gulp down air, it can’t seem to fill your lungs and your breaths turn sharp, shallow, gasping.

Meanwhile Viktor is drumming his fingers against the wood of the desk in irritation and anxiety and the very instant these people are out the door, he’s up and walking across the room. Something’s wrong with you; he can’t explain it, but he’s absolutely certain nonetheless. As he rounds the corner of the lab equipment you’re hiding behind, his stomach drops and the breath almost gets knocked out of him.

Blood. All over the floor, smeared over your thighs and dripping from your trembling hands, glass shards clutched between your fingers. He shouts for Jayce to get the first aid kit immediately and then he’s down on the ground with you, desperately pleading with you to open your hands and let go. But it’s like you can’t even see him, much less hear him; breaths barely a shivering wheeze and glassy, unfocused eyes staring off into nothing. If he forces your palms open he’s only going to hurt you and himself, so he brings his hand to the back of your neck instead, gently coaxing you to him and leaning his forehead against yours; whispering quiet reassurances to you, hoping to pull you back from whatever dark place you slipped into.

“It’s okay, miláčku, you’re okay.”

“I’m with you, you’re not alone.”

“Breathe, please just breathe for me, my love.”

It takes several long, agonizing minutes, but your breathing slowly returns to normal and you finally unclench your hands, glass still sticking to your tender, bloody skin. Blinking, your eyes swim back into focus and you can’t remember how exactly you ended up on the floor, or why you feel so exhausted and light headed. Or why Viktor’s kneeling on the ground in front of you, looking like he just witnessed his very own personal hell play out in front of him; Jayce standing a few feet behind him with the first aid kit in his hands, equally concerned and horrified.

“V-Vik…?” you whimper and that’s when the pain finally hits and your gaze falls to the bloody, disgusting mess that is your hands and the sobs and tears start before the situation fully registers.

The both of them get you up and sitting on the nearest desk, Viktor next to you with an arm around your shoulders and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, tears staining his shirt as he shushes you gently. Jayce gets to work on your hands in the meantime, picking out glass shards from your skin with a pair of tweezers as carefully as possible. By the time he’s applying disinfectant to your wounds and starts slowly wrapping them in gauze, the lab’s silent except for your quiet hiccups. Gingerly, apologetically, Viktor makes you sit up so he can get a look at your face and while he doesn’t necessarily like what he finds, eyes red and puffy and glassy, still with the same empty faraway look from earlier, he deems it safe enough to question you. “Darling, can you tell me what happened…?” You open your mouth, you want to answer, but try as you might, nothing comes out. So he helps you along. “Did you know the people who were here?” A nod.

Jayce knows about the… unique circumstances you’d had to endure when you first came to Piltover. Not in as much detail as Viktor, he assumes anyways, but he’s your friend and you’d confided in him about it long ago. And with his partner’s usually sharp mind clouded with worry, he’s the one that connects the dots first. Not that it makes getting the question out any easier, so when he speaks it’s slow and hesitant. “Were they… were they some of the people that… bought you when you were a kid…?” To his surprise, or maybe relief, he’s not sure, you shake your head no. Short lived relief as your answer makes his blood turn to ice. “They’re the people that sold me in the first place…”

“Those were… those were your parents…?” Jayce asks carefully as he finishes wrapping up your hands and you don’t actually answer his question, only mumble to yourself under your breath, and what he manages to hear breaks the inventor’s heart. “They have a kid… they have a kid…”

In direct opposition to his partner, Viktor’s blood is boiling. If you weren’t entirely reliant on him to keep you upright at the moment, he would be out of the lab and after your birth parents already. And it’s not hard to tell what he’s thinking, with the sharp, deadly glare directed at the door, so Jayce calls his name. No reaction. Again. Same result. Third time’s the charm, this time a bit louder, with more force behind it, and the Zaunite’s narrowed golden eyes flit from the doors to his fellow scientist. He’s gotten up from the stool he’d been on to treat your wounds, now packing up the medical supplies and subtly inclines his head towards you. “Someone should get them to a doctor. And then home. And stay with them.”

The raging fire in Viktor dies down to flickering embers as he takes in your trembling, hunched over form, little whimpers still leaving your lips every once and again. “Of course…” he replies and he could kick himself. Of course. You’re in pain, you’re suffering and you need him right now. Whatever he might think of your birth parents, however much he’d like to throw some choice words on your behalf at them, your wellbeing comes first. So he ushers you to your feet, arms linked and starts steering you towards the exit. Jayce’s ‘Keep me in the loop, okay?’ receives a decisive nod right before the doors close behind you both.

It’s a few hours and a doctor’s visit later that you’re settled into your bathtub, back pressed against Viktor’s chest and hands stretched out in front of you to examine them in all their bandaged glory. Nothing vital had been injured, thankfully, a bit of rest and some medicine and you’d be good as new. “This is ridiculous.” you complain in a huff, pushing some wet strands of hair out of your face. “I was supposed to be taking care of you.” His arms tighten around your middle in response, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “I am overworked. You had a panic attack and accidentally sliced your hands open. Which one of those sounds like it should be higher up on our list of priorities, hm?” Unconvinced, you grumble further objections under your breath and poke at one of the dwindling bubbles in the steaming water, careful not to get your hands wet, lest you need to re-wrap them again this evening. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that… I’m not usually—“

“Stop.” He silences you with a kiss to your jawline. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just sorry you had to go through that in the first place.” With a defeated sigh, you scoot down further into the tub, nestling into his embrace and nosing at the slope of his neck. Silence falls between you for a while, except for the soft music from your phonograph over in the other room. You haven’t talked about anything that has happened and he hasn’t pried, hasn’t pushed and you know he won’t. Just like you know that you probably should talk about what’s weighing down on you so heavily. “Their kid. She seemed… happy. Well taken care of.” Ah, right, that’s why you’d refused to talk. You’re already crying again, swallowing around the growing lump in your throat. “Which means they can be good parents. Nurturing. Kind. They just couldn’t be that for me.” A sobbing hiccup is a precursor of what’s to come. “Why— Why couldn’t they just be that for me?!” You curl in on yourself, tucked against his chest, dissolving into a whimpering, crying mess. He stays mostly silent through it, only comforting little nothings between soft kisses against your skin. He waits for you to calm down, quiet sniffles the only thing left of your outburst, before he speaks. “It is not your fault, my light. They’re the fools who never gave you the love and care you deserved and in turn gave up the chance to see the wonderful person you would become.”

The grief and pain in your chest slowly turns into something else entirely; bitter and ugly and hateful.

“I want them to see. I want them to see what I accomplished, the person I turned into, without their help. In spite of what they did to me. I want them to look at me and recognize that they messed up; groveling and begging for forgiveness that I won’t grant.” And a part of you does want that, more than anything. Wants to see them humiliated and crying and broken, just like they left you once, long ago. But that’s just one part of you. Another one thinks of the little, bubbly, starry eyed girl you’d seen sprinting about the lab; happy and joyful to be experiencing, sharing, something new and exciting with her beloved parents. A heavy sigh leaves you as realization which part of you will win out in the end hits. “But it wouldn’t change anything. The only thing it would accomplish is ruin the image an innocent girl has of her parents. It would change things for her, not for me or for them. I’d be destroying the foundation parents are supposed to be for their children and it would make me just like them.”

“You’re a stronger person than I ever could be. If not for you and Jayce, I would’ve gone after them today. Given them a piece of my mind.” A kiss to his pulse point. “It’s the thought that counts. Besides, there was a time when I would’ve needed them in my life. Not anymore. I had a parent; a dad who raised me and supported me and gave me all the love and care I ever needed. And while he might not be around anymore, I still have people who love me. That’s more than enough.”

What you’re about to say next doesn’t come as easily to you; it’s inappropriate and you hate the fact that you even consider asking, but not mentioning it at all doesn’t sit right with you either. “Viktor, I… I don’t wanna ask this of you, I shouldn’t be. It’s presumptuous and selfish and my personal life shouldn’t be interfering with your work, but… please, just…” You can’t bring yourself to actually finish that sentence, not that you really have to, you both know what you’re implying. He doesn’t immediately reply, you don’t expect him to and you definitely don’t expect him to agree. What you’re asking is audacious at best, downright offensive at worst and you wouldn’t blame him if he got upset with you over it. What happens instead leaves you utterly baffled, because he carefully takes hold of one of your hands and presses a light kiss to the bandaged knuckles and says, “I still remember the last time I saw you when we were kids, you know.”

“You came bounding down to the riverbed, almost tripping over your own feet, yelling my name and waving your hands. Telling me all about how your parents were gonna take you to Piltover for the first time the next day. How you were gonna try every food you’d be able to get your hands on. How you were gonna bring me back a new toolbox. Gods, you were so excited, you were glowing.” A fond, soft chuckle. “I want a future where every child in Zaun can look and feel like that all the time. That’s the kind of future I want to create with Hextech. People like your parents, who will sell their own flesh and blood, who will sell Zaun’s future, for their own gain? They will not be a part of that. Not as long as I have a say in anything Hextech. So please don’t worry.”

Water splashes over the edges of the tub as you shift, straddling him and cupping his face. With glassy eyes and shaky breaths, you bring your forehead to his and whisper your thanks. He gently takes a hold of your forearms as he speaks. “Not for this. Not for anything that has transpired today.” Shaking your head slightly in disagreement, you grab one of his wrists and leave a kiss on his palm. “Yes, for this. For everything you did today. I’d never take that for granted, I’d never take you for granted, but I feel like I don’t actually tell you enough. How glad I am that I have you. How happy it makes me that you decided I’m the person you’d like to share your life with. How fortunate I consider myself to be with someone I can always rely on, no matter what.” His eyes seem to glow in the candlelight, warm honey taking you in with pride and affection as he moves his arms to wrap around you in a loose hug. “I hope you know that feeling’s mutual.” Humming in acknowledgment, you manage to ignore the part of you that disagrees with him. That little, nasty voice in the back of your head is always there, but it’s been getting quieter in recent months, easier to handle. So instead of questioning yourself and wether you truly are a support for him as much as he is for you, you kiss the mole under his eye, run your nose along his sharp cheekbone, press another kiss to the mole right above his mouth and then your lips finally find his, sweet and chaste. “Yeah, I know…” you mumble and kissing becomes virtually impossible with how much he’s smiling so you pull back with an overly dramatic huff to pout.

“So, considering the day did not at all go as planned and your precious order of things got… eh, kicked right out the window: Have you changed your mind on dessert yet?” Truly, it takes you a few very long seconds. It’s the suggestive raise of a thick brow that finally makes all the pieces click into place and the flush of your skin can’t be attributed to the hot water alone anymore as you try to dunk him for that. When that doesn’t work, you settle for splashing him instead, wet bandages and bathroom floor be damned, and try as you might to seem offended, you’re smiling and laughing right along with him. “Oh so that was your intention all along? You’re a fiend; a vile, treacherous fiend, Viktor.” He manages to get a careful hold of your flailing hands, before you hurt yourself further, with one of his own, using the other to push wet hair back and out of his face, some droplets still clinging to his long lashes as he grins up at you. “You wound me, my love, I would never. My only intention with this was to make you laugh. Is that truly such a vile and treacherous deed?”

You’re left gawking at him in awe, because even after all this time, you still can’t fully comprehend how well he knows you. “Well…?” A slender finger pokes your cheek. “Am I still the villain?” Of course he’s not. He never could be. Not in your story, anyways. But you and your wounded pride aren’t quite willing to admit that yet. So you turn your gaze away, cause you can’t possibly stay even fake mad at him if you have to look at his stupid face with that crooked grin you adore so much, before you answer. “Yes, yes you are. A devious, troublesome, terribly handsome—“ Your face scrunches up in annoyance; at yourself and your brain’s inability to function properly around this man and the bastard actually has the audacity to laugh at you while he hugs you closer and tucks his head under your chin so you can’t get another opportunity to soak him yet again. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your hands in his hair and fiddle with the wet strands instead.

“Eh, well, at least I’m your villain. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Your hold on him tightens, the grip on his hair almost painful, your answer immediate and certain. “Always. I… I’ll always want you. Villain or not.” A tad much maybe, a little silly, you’re only joking around after all, but you can’t help it. You have the love of your life right here in your arms, of this you’re certain, and as long as he still wants you in return, you don’t plan on letting him go. And you’d take any chance to tell him as much.

He doesn’t seem to see it as too much or silly, though. Not with the way he presses a lingering kiss to your chest, right where he can feel your fluttering heartbeat under your wet skin and hums in contemplation and gratitude. “The rest of the world can have me as their villain, as long I get to have you in return.” Carding your fingers through his hair softly, he receives a small chuckle as his answer. “Silly. You already have me.” You use the fingers already tangled in his chestnut locks to tip his head back and get his eyes on you, beautiful amber like a warm, familiar fire. “I’m yours, now and always. And nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Nothing…” he echoes, gaze already on your lips. The kiss is passionate, loving and oh so tender. A newfound promise between lovers, sealed to last an eternity.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Gremlins, 1984

Pairing: Charlie Swan x Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: He always looks mildly disappointed its hilarious

Charlie stood off to the side of the party, for being inconspicuous, the Cullens sure knew how to throw a Christmas party. Bella absolutely forced him to come, saying she needed someone to brood with in the corner. He watched as Edward held her close, she stood on his toes as he danced with her to the slow song. 

Ew. 

He sips his champagne, looking around at everyone. They were all dressed so nicely, but even in his best suit, he still felt undressed. Why did he ever let Bella talk him into going to this stupid party? He didn’t even have Billy there to make fun of people with. 

“Mind if I hide with you?” 

He looks around for the sound of the voice before eventually looking down. 

Oh. 

“Uh yeah, sure” 

He scoots over a little and you stand next to him, sipping your champagne quietly. It’s pretty easy to check you out from this height, your hair is done up nicely, and he can see little specks of glitter in it. His eyes trail down to the off-the-shoulder, sequins-covered, red dress you’re wearing. The slit is dangerously high and you’re cinched in almost sinfully, your curves perfectly presented in the floor-length gown. 

He leans against the wall, sipping from his glass before clearing his throat. 

“You uh… friends with the Cullens? Don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here before” 

You look up at him, taking a couple tiny steps backward to be next to him. He stands tall and turns to you, looking into your pretty lavender eyes and trying his damndest to ignore your plush chest on display. 

“Yeah actually! I’m friends with Rosalie and Emmett! I would be friends with Edward too if he wasn’t always acting like a moody emo teen, and that’s an insult to moody emo teens ” 

You giggle stepping to the side and hiding behind him a bit as Edward glares in your direction. Charlie snickers and looks down at you, watching you narrow your eyes at him until he turns away. 

“What about you?” You ask, coming out from your little hiding place when the coast is clear “How did you end up here?”

“I’m uh- I’m Bella’s- dad” He’s not sure why he’s hesitating to admit it? Being a dad was the single most important thing he’d ever done in his life, he was proud of his daughter! So… why didn’t he want you to know that? 

Your eyes widen a little and you look at him, before looking back at Bella and Edward. 

“Oh!…oh,” You say quietly and he knocks back the rest of his champagne, setting his glass down on the floating trays and grabbing a new one. That… stung? Your reaction stung and he’s not sure why but it’s definitely irritating him a little bit. 

It’s… incredibly awkward for a moment before you take another sip of your drink, staring down into the glass sheepishly. 

“Uhhh sorry I kinda made fun of your son-in-law” 

“At least I know I can trust you” He mumbles around his glass and you toss your head back and laugh as he sticks his hand out. 

“Charlie”

“Y/N” You smile up at him, shaking his hand.  It’s so warm and strong, he bends forward, kissing your knuckles and you nearly burst right there. He gives you a wink and you shyly pull your hand away, your cheeks flushing as you turn back toward the dance floor. 

“You know um- you don’t…if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look old enough to be a dad. You look um, really, uh- good for your age. You know whatever your age is or whatever” 

That gets his attention again, he looks down at you, looking over your figure and your eyes meet his, he doesn’t even care you’ve caught him staring. 

“I’m not a dinosaur you know” He scoffs and you laugh, reaching out and placing your hand on his arm as you stumble a little.  He takes your glass away, putting it on the tray, his hand settling on your waist to steady you. 

“I’m not saying you are!“ 

“Uh huh sure and I’m just supposed to believe you’re puttin’ the moves on me?” He chuckles and you suddenly shut up, your cheeks turning pinker, his laugh dies down and he looks at you 

“Wait are you actually-“ 

“Do you dance, Charlie?” You ask suddenly, blurting it out and he looks over, the song they’re playing is another slow one, it’s more intimate than the last few slow ones that had played 

“No?” He says, but you’re pulling on his hand, dragging him from the safety of his corner and to the dance floor. His feet have a mind of their own as he follows after you because his actual mind is screaming with giant red lights flashing that this is a bad idea you’re way too young for him. 

But suddenly you’re wrapping your arms around his torso and lying your head on his chest, and he can’t help but sway you to the music. He can feel you humming the old song softly, your eyes closing slowly. Oh, you have to be drunk as hell, or maybe Bella put you up to it. But you didn’t know who he was?? So maybe she didn’t? He doesn’t know- god he just knows that having your body pressed into his is…doing things to him. Things he hasn’t experienced in a while. 

You look up at him, your chin on his chest “I think you dance pretty well” 

“Thanks… so do you” He cups your face, and you smile, leaning into his hands. You sway softly together, and he wraps his arm around your waist and takes your hand, suddenly dancing isn’t so bad. Technically this wasn’t even dancing, it was just… enjoying being close to someone. 

Your hand is so soft in his, you’re so soft, so delicate, he’s afraid he’ll break you. Neither of you realizes the song has ended until Bella and Edward come over, You pull away reluctantly and he lets go of you, suddenly feeling cold.

“Oh hey, Bels. Edward” Charlie greets him with a nod 

“I see you’ve met Y/N” He looks at you and you glare up at him, your nose scrunching 

“I s’pose yeah” 

“How’d you convince him to dance??” Bella scoffs in his direction and he rolls his eyes 

“It was easy!” You look up at him, your hands still connected “I just asked, and didn’t take no for an answer”  

“I’m impressed” She nods and Edward rolls his eyes as he looks away from you, he steps back, pulling Bella with him and she follows after 

“You two enjoy yourselves” she calls out as he loses her in the crowd

“Wonder what that was about” Charlie mumbles and you shrug 

“That Eddy is one weird guy”

“Eddy?” Charlie looks at you and you snicker, pulling him away from the dance floor 

“He hates when I call him that” 

If you told Charlie that one day he’d be out on a balcony, holding onto the hips of a pretty little thing who decided she had no choice but to sit on the stone railing while it was lightly snowing making her look like a damn Angel…

He’d book you for public intoxication… and bothering him. 

But here he was, holding onto your hips, standing between your legs, and getting closer by the second. You wrap your arms around his neck, just, “casually” placing them there and his fingers tighten on your hips just “trying to keep you safe” 

“Thanks for coming out here with me, I know it’s kinda cold but I just needed some fresh air,” You tell him, looking up at the sky, you close your eyes as little snowflakes fall on your skin, landing gently on your long lashes.

“You look pretty,” He says, and he sounds so dumb when he says it, he just knows he does, but you do, and he needs to tell you that.

“Hm?” You lift your head to look at him, blinking the sparkly droplets away

“I said, you look pretty” He repeats himself, lower this time, and you melt for him. 

“Why thank you, you look pretty too”

“Oh, I do huh?” He smiles, teasing you and you giggle, nodding as you cup his face 

“Mhm, think you cleanup so so nicely” 

“Hey Mr. S!” Your quiet conversation is interrupted by Emmett and Rosalie, she takes one look at the two of you and whacks him in the chest, growling something under her breath. 

“Babe! I was just trying to help a homie out!” He points upward and you both look up, how the hell he missed that he has no idea, but right above your head, there’s mistletoe hanging from the fairy lights 

“Did he just call you his “homie” you whisper, biting your lip to keep from laughing and Charlie sighs loudly, closing his eyes. 

“He did. Yeah” 

Emmett’s very… very loud help has attracted a little crowd, all eagerly waiting, Charlie turns for a second, looking at all of them before looking back to you, an uneasy look on his face. 

“Is this weird? This feels weird” he says and you giggle, nodding 

“Oh yeah no it’s kinda weird” 

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Emmett starts a chant and others join in, Rosalie pinches the bridge of her nose, before turning on her heel and stalking back into the building and Charlie lets his head fall on your shoulder for a second before straightening back up 

“Look I’m not gonna force you to-“ 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as your lips connect with his, it takes him a second to kiss back, moving his lips against yours slowly, tasting you in one of the ways he’d been dreaming of doing all night. You taste like strawberries and something even sweeter and he never wants this to end. 

You finally pull away slowly and the small crowd cheers before going back to their business, but your eyes stay focused on his.

“Woo! Get it Mr. S!” Emmett yells before heading back inside to find Rosalie, and try to talk her down from the mega beat down he knows he’s gonna receive. 

“Get it, Mr. S??” Charlie repeats awkwardly as you both watch him walk in and you laugh, trying not to choke on air 

“He’s really rooting for you” 

“I regret telling him he could watch a baseball game with me” 

“How many times?” 

Charlie turns back around “Legitimately once, he was at the house by himself and decided to come bother me… I suppose we’ve been “homies” ever since…”

“Please never say that again” You snort and he puts his hands back on your hips. 

“What? Homie?” He teases, getting closer and you wrap your arms around his neck again, groaning softly 

“Oh my god yes, it sounds so weird coming from you”

“What’s wrong with expressing my feelings huh? My homie Emmett really came through” Your head falls onto his shoulder as you wriggle in his arms, laughing and dying at the same time 

“Nooo please stop oh my god” 

“You promise to be my homie if I do?” 

“Yes!” You laugh, holding onto him tighter “I promise”

“You gotta say it…and seal it with a kiss” He nudges you and you sit up again, looking into his eyes 

“I promise I’ll be your homie if you stop saying it for the rest of our lives” You kiss him again, this time more intensely now that you’re alone again. He squeezes your hips possessively, his tongue wrapping around yours. You moan softly, your hands carding through his soft black hair and tugging on the ends. You pull his head back and start kissing his neck, sucking and biting to leave behind dark bruises and he moans, it’s so deep and sexy, it sends a shiver up your spine. 

“You wanna take this somewhere else?” You whisper seductively while nibbling his ear and he nods, hopelessly lost in you. 

“Yeah… I know a great storage closet” 

You giggle and slip down off the railing, he pushes you against it, his hands sliding over your waist and kissing you again, he can’t get enough of you and you have absolutely no problem with it. He finally pulls away again and takes your hand, pulling you after him, you have to take quick little steps to match his long strides as you weave through the party. 

“Oh, Dad! Hey,” Bella stops him and you bounce off his back with a squeak, Edward catches you and sets you back on your feet and Charlie looks over to Bella. 

“Uh- Hey, kiddo what’s- what’s up?” He’s still holding your hand and Edward doesn’t miss the way he squeezes it gently, a message.

“I’ve been looking for you, wanted to know if you wanna hang out a bit? I know I’ve kinda been blowing you off…”

You turn your head up at Edward, narrowing your eyes at him, screaming your…very interesting thoughts at him and he gags a little before reaching for Bella. 

“Why don’t we go find something to eat?” 

“Yeah, why don’t you go find something to eat?” Charlie echoes and she looks at them both like they’re insane 

“Something? To eat?” She says slowly and Edward leans down to whisper something in her ear, you tug on Charlie’s hand and pull on him gently and his feet start moving.  

“I’ll catch up with you later okay?” 

Bella looks between the two of you before whipping her head around to Edward who shakes his head, looking nauseous and Charlie knows he knows what’s going on.

“I didn’t tell her…everything. Just said you needed to have a conversation with her.” 

He hears Edward’s voice in his head and he gives him an awkward thumbs up before following after you. 

“I’ll come find you!” 

He walks faster, ahead of you, and out into the hallways, it’s quieter here, you’re almost sure he can hear your heartbeat as he leads you down the hallway, further away from all the noise.

“You sure know your way around here,” You tell him, and he chuckles

“Kinda my job to know the ins and outs of places” 

He stops in front of a door and reaches into his pocket, his keys jingle as he pulls them out, searching for an odd-looking one and unlocking the door. 

“Skeleton key” he waves it as he puts it back in his pocket and holds the door open for you, flicking on the lights”

It’s clean in there, and the air feels cool. There are a few shelves with various towels and tablecloths. It’s like a glorified linen closet. 

“Hey, you were right! You did know a good closet,” you giggle, leaning your back against the wall. You look up at him, giving him a little come-here motion with your finger.

He unbuttons his coat, sliding it off his shoulders and setting it on one of the shelves before coming over to you, holding your face in his hands. 

“You, are… gorgeous” He mumbles before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You melt into him, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt and running your fingers over his chest. 

“Oh… you’re- you’re really” You gesture to his chest, your cheeks flushed and he smirks, taking your hand and placing it on his hardening bulge. 

“And what about this?” 

You look down slowly, your mouth watering “Ohh…my god” 

“You think you can handle it?” He whispers in your ear, kissing the shell of it and lifting your dress at the slit, he gathers it around your waist and hands it to you. 

You hold onto your dress, feeling his hand sliding down your thigh, and stroking the smooth skin softly, before rubbing higher. You squirm a little and he kisses your forehead. 

“Patience, honeybee” He walks his fingers up your thigh torturously slow before they finally come into contact with the edge of your panties, you feel him brush his fingers lightly against where you need him most, pressing the hot, wet, fabric against your dripping lips.

“It’s so sticky” He murmurs in your ear “so wet and perfect…” He teases your clit, working it in little circles and you hold onto his arms, rolling your hips on his fingers. Your head falls back against the wall, panting softly as he works you up with skilled precision, bringing you right to the edge. 

He pulls his hand away from you and you whine as he brings it up, licking your slick from his fingers.

“Well don’t you taste just as good as you look?” he purrs, and you squeeze your legs together for any sort of friction. His voice drops a couple octaves as he whispers into your ear, while you unbuckle his belt as fast as your hands can 

“Ah ah, slow down” He puts his hands over yours, slowing your movements “Unwrap it just like a present under the Christmas tree” 

You huff at him but do as he says, pulling his zipper down slowly. His cock strains against his underwear, begging you to release it. 

“Have you been a good girl this year? He hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. 

“The best!! I promise!!” You nod frantically and he reaches back, taking his coat from the shelves again and placing it on the floor in front of you 

“Prove it for me” 

You get on your knees and look up at him, smiling sweetly and pulling down his boxers. His cock pops out, free from the confines of his boxers and your eyes widen as you stare at it. He’s so beautifully sculpted, long and hard, the tip leaking precum and you gasp softly. 

“Holy shit” you whisper and he presses the tip of his cock against your lips, rubbing it along them teasingly

“Come on good girl, open wide and show me you deserve your presents” 

You stroke him a couple times before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking it shyly, you pull away and kiss it, making out with the tip before taking more of him in.

His eyes roll back and he puts his hand on your head, pushing his cock further into your mouth. He rubs your hair and moans quietly before gathering it around his fist and using your face.

“Jesus Christ honeybee” He moans and it occurs to him that it’s been….an embarrassingly long time since he’s done this and he doesn’t think he’s gonna last very long, not with the little choking noises you make as he moves his hips, thrusting into your mouth. 

You hold onto his thighs, bobbing your head as you swallow his cock, you look up at him, your eyes watering slightly as he pushes his cock down your throat and holds it there for a second. You run your tongue along his shaft while moaning softly, sending little vibrations through his body and fuck is he about to cum.

He braces his arm against the wall, rocking his hips into your mouth steadily, as he picks up the pace fucking your face faster and chasing his high. This isn’t gentlemanly, this isn’t the way he was raised, you let the lady cum first but the second you pull him closer, your head against the wall taking him all the way down with your nose buried in the soft curls he’s gone. He holds your hair tighter, biting his fist as he fucks your face, moaning louder than he should and cumming down your throat to the sounds of you choking on him. 

He holds it there for a minute, listening to you gagging and whimpering before he pulls away from you with a satisfying wet pop and you look up at him swallowing every last drop as you stare into his eyes. He can see the blazing fire in yours, the little tears streaming down your face. This night is definitely far from over. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me honeybee”

You arrange his jacket as a little place to sit, panting harshly as you try to catch your breath. He sits next to you with a soft groan and you lean your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him. 

“I’m uh, sorry that-” he clears his throat awkwardly and you start to giggle as his cheeks turn pink and he whacks your thigh. 

“I'm trying to apologize here!” 

“For what?? that was sooo good” Your voice is a little hoarse, but you seem incredibly pleased and it makes his cock twitch. 

Thank god. 

“I didn’t- I mean, I came kinda fast don’t you think? Not to mention you haven’t” 

“I dunno, I think it’s pretty sexy” You tease, poking his thigh and he leans his head on yours, taking your hand in his.

“Sexy?” He scoffs and you nod, shaking both your heads 

“Definitely! I was so irresistible you couldn’t help but cum down my throat…and if I’m being honest you lasted waaaay longer than I thought you would”

His mouth drops open and he sits up, looking at you “Excuse me?! I think I did pretty damn good”

“Oh yeah sure definitely!” You start giggling again and he gets up, you laugh as he uses the wall for support and he kicks your foot 

“We’ll see whose laughing when we get back to my place” 

“And just what does that mean?” 

He helps you up and gives you a snarky little look as your knees crack and you kick at his leg. He grabs your wrists with one hand and spins you, pinning you to the wall and sliding his hand into your panties, sinking his long fingers inside you. 

“It means I’m gonna be gettin’ a whole lotta calls about a woman screaming” 

[lolasangelz]

rafe staying home (for once)

wc: 1,547

warnings: implied smut at the end but its cute

a/n: these photos are so rafe hehe also give me ideas!!!

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

georgia woke to warmth.

not just the drowsy, blanket-heavy kind—but the warmth of someone next to her. someone who never seemed to be present anymore anymore.

her eyes fluttered open.

rafe.

still in bed. one arm slung over her waist, breathing slow and even. not a suit in sight. no tie draped over the chair. no early-morning rush. just him, shirtless and still, like the world outside their window hadn’t started spinning yet.

“Why are you still in bed?,” she whispered, voice lazy with sleep.

he cracked one eye open,  small tired grin tugging at his mouth. “mornin’, angel.”

“Don’t you have a meeting?”

“not today.”

she blinked again, brain still catching up. “you never stay home.”

he stretched, leaned over, pressed a kiss just below her jaw. “figured i’d try something new. see what all the morning chaos is really like.”

georgia narrowed her eyes. “you’re either incredibly sweet or incredibly stupid.”

“bit of both,” he murmured, kissing her again.

and then—

emerson’s voice outside the door: “i can’t find my socks and grayson took my spoon and maddie said i smell weird!”

gigi groaned.

rafe just smiled.

“c’mon,” he said, already sliding out of bed. “let’s go see what kind of mess they’ve turned the kitchen into.”

in the next ten minutes, rafe had grayson dressed (backwards shirt and all), found maddie’s glitter sneakers, poured cereal without spilling a drop, and somehow got maggie to stop crying without a bottle.

georgia just stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him move through their usual mayhem like it was nothing.

“what?” rafe asked, catching her stare as he bounced maggie on his hip.

she shook her head, eyes soft. “you’re just... not half bad at this.”

but later, when all four kids were fed and dressed and mostly matching, and emerson had kissed them both on the cheek before heading to preschool, georgia slipped her hand into rafe’s.

“thank you,” she said quietly.

he looked at her, thumb brushing the back of her hand. “anytime, angel.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

the door had barely clicked shut behind emerson when the house seemed to exhale.

grayson was on the rug, rolling a toy truck back and forth with determined little grunts. maddie twirled through the living room in her sparkly shoes, still insisting she was a princess-vet. maggie, fed and drowsy again, was curled into rafe’s chest, tiny hand fisted into the collar of his sweatshirt.

gigi leaned against the kitchen doorway, sipping coffee she didn’t remember making, just... watching.

watching the way rafe moved with maggie, how his whole body softened around her. how he pressed his lips to her wispy hair like he couldn’t believe he got to hold something so small. so new. so theirs.

and for a second, something pinched in her chest. a little ache. the good kind.

"you do that like you've been doing it your whole life," she said softly.

rafe glanced up, a lazy smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “fake it till you make it.”

gigi walked over, brushing her fingers through maggie’s baby-fine hair. “or maybe you’re just actually really good at this.”

rafe raised a brow. “what, parenting?”

“no.” she smiled. “being here.”

he let out a breath, quiet and real. “feels good... not rushing out for once. just... being in it.”

maggie let out a tiny sigh, sinking deeper against his chest.

gigi leaned her head on his shoulder, one hand resting over his heart.

“don’t get used to this,” she murmured. “i’m supposed to resent you for never being home in the mornings.”

he laughed under his breath. “guess i’ll have to earn your forgiveness tonight.”

she raised an eyebrow. “hmm. maybe. you’ll have to try really hard.”

he smirked. “challenge accepted.”

they stood like that for a moment longer—warm, unhurried, the kind of quiet that only came after the storm.

and later, after maggie was down for a nap and grayson was finally convinced not to put his truck in the toilet, gigi found rafe half-asleep on the couch, one hand draped over his eyes, the other curled around maddie, who’d climbed up beside him and passed out mid-story.

gigi didn’t say anything.

just watched.

because sometimes, the softest kind of love was the one you didn’t have to speak aloud.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

bonus little bit for you sluts xx (its actually really cute and not smutty cuz i physically cannot)

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

it was nearly midnight by the time the house had gone still again.

the dishwasher hummed in the background. the baby monitor glowed quietly on the nightstand. and the bedroom was lit only by the low orangey-yellow colour of the lamp, soft shadows dancing across the floor.

gigi was already under the covers, one arm slung over her eyes, her body boneless with exhaustion. but her chest still fluttered when she heard the door creak open and rafe stepped in, bare chest and low-slung joggers, fresh from the shower.

he looked at her like she was still the girl he first married.

like he hadn’t spent the whole day watching her move through their life like it was second nature—feeding and dressing and soothing and laughing and catching a sippy cup midair without blinking.

he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand skimming her thigh over the blanket. “still mad i stayed home?”

gigi cracked an eye open. “you fed grayson chocolate for breakfast and let maddie use your expensive hair mask as ‘shimmer cream.’”

“so... no?”

she laughed, then bit her lip when his hand didn’t move—just kept tracing lazy circles over the soft cotton of her sleep shorts.

“you were really good today,” she murmured, a little quieter. “with them. with me.”

“i liked it.” his voice dipped lower. “being home. seeing all of it. seeing you.”

she shifted, turning toward him, curling a hand around his wrist. “you’re always seeing me.”

“not like this.”

his palm slipped beneath the blanket, warm against her hip. her skin prickled.

“you always smell like baby shampoo,” he said, leaning in, lips brushing her collarbone. “and vanilla. and tired.”

“romantic,” she whispered.

he smiled against her skin. “i missed touching you. not just quick kisses in the hallway. not over sleepy babies and backpacks. you.”

gigi exhaled, breath catching as he nudged the blanket lower, mouth trailing the curve of her shoulder.

“we’re gonna get interrupted,” she said, already breathless.

“probably.” he kissed just below her jaw. “worth it.”

her fingers curled into his hair, the tension in her body unraveling piece by piece as he shifted over her, careful and slow. there was no rush to it—just quiet worship. hands on skin. mouths that knew each other like memory.

and when she gasped his name, he held her tighter, whispered things only she ever got to hear.

later, tangled in sheets and steady breathing, he traced lazy shapes along her spine and whispered:

“we’re a good team, you know.”

gigi smiled against his chest, eyes heavy, lips swollen.

“you finally learning that now?”

he laughed, low and quiet. “maybe i just needed to slow down enough to really see it.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

sigh i actually need ideaa

[laifromthecosmos]

Magha Woman: The Lonely Warrior against Patriarchy

The throne of Magha is not given, it is remembered. Those born under this constellation carry an invisible calling, an ancient yearning for an authority that was never truly granted in this life – but that pulses deep within the soul. The woman of Magha is born a queen without a kingdom, a priestess without a temple, a warrior without an army. And yet she does not bow.

— laifromthecosmos

Follow me on Twitter/X: @rahueyes.

In my personal life, I have a warrior mother. Since a young age (and when I say young, I mean as a child), she was already providing for our poor household. My grandmother worked as a housemaid, and while she was out, my mother would go to the streets and try to find something to do in exchange for a tiny amount of money, just so that when my grandmother came home, at least the bread would be guaranteed. My grandfather was ill and often hospitalized, so there was no male figure present, despite my mother's older brother, who later destroyed his life with drugs. Like many women with the Moon in Cancer, my mother became a maternal figure to her younger sister, my aunt. It was a family burden she carried from a very early age, and she lived only to provide for this family, which led to her delaying her own life and ultimately falling into a deep depression. With an Ascendant and stellium in Capricorn, Sun in Purva Phalguni, and Rahu in Magha, my mother became a front-line figure both in our family and in her work, despite constantly having to solve serious problems. She used every bit of argumentative skill and courage to resolve injustices, and in the end, even people in higher leadership positions respected her.

With her Moon in Cancer, my mother always thought of the well-being of her family and the education of her children. She wanted to give us what she never had — and she succeeded. I believe one of her problems today is facing the fact that she has a daughter with the same strength — or perhaps even greater — than her own. I was born with the Moon in Purva Phalguni and Mars in Magha, but with a very different background thanks to her. Since I was very little, I’ve been rebellious, but my mother repressed me a lot so that I wouldn’t be that way. As a result, I grew up without developing my ability to handle many things. I let people take advantage of me while I kept silent. This repression is resurfacing now, and while I used to think it was only due to my Ascendant in Ardra — the fiercest Nakshatra — I realized it actually comes from my Mars placed in a sign he is very comfortable in, but in a Nakshatra that, unfortunately, in this patriarchal life we lead, is a problem for women: Magha.

I have this placement in the 2nd house (according to KP ayanamsa), and the problem is obviously located in the family area. Having a father who assumes the image of a king and commander, expecting his daughter to be obedient and not complain about anything, is the punishment women of Magha often bear. My mother always sides with him whenever there’s a confrontation between us, because I’m the one who is supposed to be wrong — even when he’s the one who committed the offense. Reading about this Nakshatra — especially about the women who carry it strongly — made me realize I am not the problem, despite being constantly labeled as such. I have no support, and I often feel alone in a war that never ends. I have no voice, no reason, I’m the one who doesn’t understand, the stubborn one, the selfish one. Even when I’m right, I’m wrong. The symbology of Magha is highly patriarchal and deeply connected to ancestry — particularly paternal ancestry. The Leonine aspect of sovereignty, authority, respect, leadership, and other traditionally masculine traits are all found in this Nakshatra. But it plays out very differently for men and women. Barbara Pijan described on her website that Magha is beneficial for men and malefic for women in a patriarchal system (not in those exact words — this is my interpretation): men of Magha are seen as kings, while women of Magha are seen as witches. My brother, who has his Ascendant in Purva Phalguni, is seen as a kind-hearted man. I, with my Moon in Purva Phalguni and Mars in Magha, am seen as cold, difficult — even called a disgrace. I posted a short explanation on Twitter/X, but I’ll expand more on it in this post.

Magha Nakshatra is ruled by the Pitris — the “Ancestral Fathers,” spirits of those who lived before us. They are not gods like Vishnu or Shiva, but ethereal presences who uphold tradition, lineage, and sacred order. They watch over rituals, preserve the sacred heritage of the social structure — not in terms of progress, but of continuity. This connection with the Pitris brings a unique spiritual mark. Those born under Magha are bound to ancient family karma — a web of inherited commitments, vows, and glories. There’s an invisible debt to the dead, to those who came before. In Vedic tradition, this debt is repaid through honor, service, and maintenance of the social order. But the problem is: this structure was never made to house feminine power. Magha is the Nakshatra of the seat of power, the throne, legacy. It speaks of the highest place one can reach — but that place is guarded by the names, rules, and forefathers of a masculine lineage. In patriarchal cultures, the throne is the father, the husband, the king. The Magha woman is born, then, as an intruder in this space — or worse, as an invisible figure, whose power is only acknowledged when mediated by a man.

Magha means “the mighty,” “the magnificent.” It is one of the Nakshatras most traditionally associated with authority, status, honor, and ancestral legacy. Its symbol is the royal throne — a sign of the right to rule, to command, to preserve the established order. Here lies the tension for women: this throne has, for centuries, been reserved only for men. Women with the Moon or personal planets (or Atmakaraka) in Magha are natural leaders — proud, charismatic, and often feel isolated in their strength. There’s a deep sense of carrying out a familial or ancestral mission — but rarely is there any recognition for it. In patriarchy, the Magha woman becomes a threat: she questions the role of tradition (Pitris) without necessarily rejecting it; she possesses inherent authority that was not "granted" but spiritually inherited. Her radiance is seen as arrogance, her leadership as defiance. The throne of Magha was made for ruling, but the woman born with this energy must still earn the right to sit on it. She does so by confronting the patriarchy — not as a declared enemy, but as a forgotten heiress reclaiming what was taken from her.

The woman who carries Magha in her heart — whether through the Moon, Ascendant, Atmakaraka, or significant conjunction — is born with a deep sense of inner royalty. She knows she comes from a powerful spiritual lineage. But the world around her does not recognize this calling. Instead of a crown, she receives criticism. Instead of a throne, the domestic altar. Instead of glory, the duty of silence. The karma of this woman is to challenge this system — not out of empty rebellion, but out of awareness. She does not seek to destroy the past, but to transform it. She does not sever ties with her ancestors — she confronts them. The Magha woman must learn to be the living ancestor — the matriarch who builds a new tradition inside a house that once tried to erase her.

examples I posted on twitter/x about man with Mars in Magha vs. Magha woman.

Prash Trivedi, one of the deepest interpreters of the Nakshatras, describes Magha as the Nakshatra of the “priest-king” — an archetype that combines authority with spirituality. In women, this creates what he calls a “cultural dissonance”: they don’t know where they fit in. Many try to mold themselves into what’s expected — good wives, good mothers, quiet — but that social role tears at their core. Others become solitary, distanced from family, seen as strange or difficult. Komilla Sutton writes that the greatest challenge of Magha is finding expression for its authority in a world that fears powerful women. She notes that these natives tend to carry the weight of tradition, but are called to transcend its limitations. Often, they must forgo traditional marriage or redefine it completely. Bepin Behari reinforces the idea that Magha is the Nakshatra of the spiritual continuity of the soul and that individuals under it are "guardians of lineage." The Magha woman, then, doesn’t just live her own life — she continues an ancestral journey. This journey often involves breaking from patriarchal structures — not out of rebellion, but by destiny.

For the Magha woman, patriarchy is a distorted mirror of her own soul. She was made to reign — but placed to serve. And this imbalance causes not only external pain but also an internal war. That’s why many Magha women struggle with self-esteem, difficulty trusting others, or feelings of isolation. They feel forced to do everything alone, to constantly prove their worth, to endure betrayals and disloyalties without breaking. Patriarchy tries to reduce Magha to her reproductive function. But she is not just a mother — she is a matriarch. She is not here only to give birth — but to birth worlds, ideas, cultures. The great challenge is that her authority comes from within, not from outside. And in a system that only recognizes male and external power, the inner throne of the Magha woman becomes invisible.

The Magha woman is, in essence, a living ancestor in a young body. She carries in her bones the voices of the silenced women who came before. She was not born to obey — but to remember. And her journey is a solitary one, because the path of inner leadership has always been forbidden to women.

Her power is ancient. Her presence, real. Her struggle, spiritual.

She does not fight to assert herself.

She fights to remember who she is.

some answers about the thread. Women of Magha are powerful even though they are oppressed, there is no regret for having acted so courageously to face injustices but sadness for not having support.

[femconstellation]

A Minecraft Movie

I’m honestly shocked that I could be discussing the feminism in a movie about Minecraft, but here I am! In a world where female gamers are mocked, shamed, assaulted, and brushed off, you’d think the movie about a game with an insane amount of female players, including many famous content creators, would put more than two minutes of thought into their female characters.

They didn’t.

The movie of course focuses on Steve, the male protagonist and default skin of Minecraft, and his discovery of the portal that leads to the Minecraft world. But he isn’t the only character we are meant to be focusing on. The movie also introduces Garrett, a washed-up gamer world champion and video game store owner, who discovers the orb and crystal that re-opens the portal. And then it introduces Natalie and Henry, a sibling duo left with no other family who are starting a new life in Chuglass. And through them, we are introduced to Dawn, a real estate agent with many side hustles.

The movie follows the four being sent into the Minecraft world, having to fend off various hostile mobs, and running into Steve, freshly released from the nether to retrieve the orb and (now broken) crystal from them. They go to a village and are gearing up to head to the woodland mansion to find a new crystal to re-open the portal. Natalie and Henry argue, and for some reason, Natalie and Dawn (the only women) split off to find a map to the woodland mansion (mind you, Steve already had the location of the mansion). During a fight with piglins, the girls and boys separate (which could’ve been avoided; they didn’t need to actually separate during the fight, but it doesn’t matter anyway because Steve only grabbed two elytras anyway, though he meant to grab three, so just enough for the boys…) and the girls head off to find the cartographer villager to get a map to the mansion.

The boys go on an adventure — running from piglins and ghasts, traveling through the redstone mountains, escaping Steve’s creeper farm and using it to fight off a large piglin brute — and only reunite with the boys in time for them to carry out the final plan.

The girls wander aimlessly (as they failed to get a map) fighting off the occasional zombie in search of the mansion. They instead find and re-tame Dennis, Steve’s wolf, who is supposed to lead the girls to Steve. I don’t recall Dennis leading them to Steve until Steve and Henry were knocked out — AFTER Henry, Steve, and Garrett went to the mansion, retrieved the new crystal, and fought more piglins.

They reunite when the girls nurse the boys back to health after they wiped out while riding a ghast. The girls… built a mushroom house! Yes, they built a mushroom house while the boys went on a full adventure. Because boys actually play the game and girls only build cute houses, apparently.

Even in the final fight, all Dawn does is tame a bunch of wolves and uses them towards the end of the fight. Natalie watches as Henry grabs the crystal from the nether portal’s beam or whatever. She is being surrounded by piglins, and she essentially does nothing. I believe iron golems came to her rescue? Garrett ends up saving Henry and helping him blow up the nether portal, saving the over world. Steve defeats the evil piglin sorceress. Natalie and Dawn are essentially what I call heroine cheerleaders — they’re presented as equals to the male heroes, but their contributions amount to cheering on the sidelines. Yes, Dawn tamed wolves and Natalie did a tiny bit of fighting, but their characters are essentially cheerleaders for the male leads.

In the end, Dawn ends up… doing something. I think she just quit her side hustles or something. Natalie opened a self defense dojo using what she learned in Minecraft (which is hilarious considering she barely fought — she hit some zombies! There was no meaningful build up to this conclusion). Steve and Garrett (along with Henry and Natalie, technically) are working on a game based on their experience. Henry successfully builds a jetpack.

And I’m just… shocked. What did the girls do? They built a house. And for a game with a huge female base, this is ridiculous. You have the male leads go on this huge adventure, and the girls go on a walk and talk about their emotions and build a house. I wanted to be proven wrong about what I’ve heard about the women in this movie — but I was unfortunately proven right.

I’ve played Minecraft since… 2013? I played Minecraft when you could play on the website. I first got my own account in February 2014. I still play the game. And seeing an anticipated movie based on a game I’ve loved forever be so… misogynistic is crazy. And no, I’m not happy with the two male leads being Jack Black and Jason Mamoa — two shitty men. I can’t even express my rage enough. The BEST female character in the movie was fucking Jennifer Coolidge’s character! And her whole shtick was falling in love with a fucking villager. Holy fuck.

Natalie’s character was the worried older sister who, ha ha, sucked at Minecraft. Dawn’s character was just emotional support for Natalie half the time and the other half was just comedic one liners.

i hope any shitty video game movies moving forward (that are inevitably going to spawn from the success of this movie) at least put more than two minutes of thought into their female characters.

[floweringlino]

Macarons and kisses | L.F

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 ; in which wherever she goes, he goes and the other way around.

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; pastry chef!Felix x Pastrychef!fem!reader

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ; fluff, tinie tiny bit angst, mentions of food, bullying by boss, crying, mention of alcohol, slightly suggestive near the end.

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ; 2.3k

The gods menu masterlist

✎ ❀

“Y/N, how is the mise en place for tonight looking?” Her friend questioned her.

“Don’t you worry about me, Lix. Worry about that Gumbo thats burning on the stove.

He hurried away to continue his family meal for the rest of their colleagues, Stirring the stew.

Three years of culinary school, two years of training with the best pastry chefs that were around the world. Paris, Copenhagen and Brussels were the places she had trained and all of them took a lot from her. It was hard but it made her who she was and it got her to where she was today.

She knew what she was doing, maybe she was rhetorical best around. The only person that could challenge her in her ability's was Felix. The two of them had gone through a lot in the past, from starting school together to the job they were today. Y/n had followed Felix to the two star michelin restaurant they worked at the present day.

She liked her colleagues. Felix and her had made the pastry their own and powered through the short and difficult days. Hyunjin had also become a good friend of hers and that made her rough days there better.

There was only reason why the days were so bad to start with. Her only problem with this team was the chef. Never in her short but eventful carrier, she had even met a man like him. A man so pathetic, so mean and so heartless. He made her days horrible until the point she cried her way home. But that was the job she thought.

Not every experience is supposed to be a good one.

"Corner." She told her colleagues before making her way across the corner. She said a couple of behinds while passing her friends and made her way to the kitchenaid that was whisking the eggwhites.

Very slowly she poured the sugar water while the whisk was doing its thing. As the mixture started taking the texture that she needed a confident smile appeared on het lips.

"Y/L/N, you better not mess up those macarons, I might actually kill you."

And with that the smile fell again.

"Little does he know you never mess up your macarons." Felix bumped her shoulder a little bit to make her smile again.

"I don't do mess ups. Especially not here.”

"Everybody makes mistakes babes." He reminded her.

"Calm down Hannah Montana. I wanna live out this job before he kills me." She looked up at her best friend while still doing her work. So familiar with the recipe she didn't even need to look.

Felix was also already looking at her. It made her giggle so he felt like he accomplished his mission. The look he gave her was one of pure admiration. They both did the same thing but she did it with so much passion.

"Stop looking at me." She blushed and looked away, hoping he hadn't seen it. But someone had.

"Im sorry. Ill stop. Finish those and help me with family meal?" She nodded in response and watched him walk away to the stove where he had a stew cooking for dinner.

After a little while she left her macarons to rest for a little bit as the shiny layer needed to turn matte before pushing them into the oven. Leaving them alone she made her way over to her Friend.

"What can I help you with, Lix?" He turned around from his conversation with Hyunjin and stood next to her over the stew.

"Can you cut the okra, chorizo and the green onion? I want to add it last so that it stays crunchy at the end." She nodded in response and made a station next to Hyunjin. As she did the stuff Felix had asked her to do, Hyunjin poked her in her side to get her attention from her. To keep him annoyed a little bit she waiting with responding until he yelled.

"Yah! I wanna talk to you. Talk to meee! Im bored."

"Whats up Jinnie. How are we feeling?"

"Keep this a secret okay?" She nodded in response as a promise to keep his secret.

"Im kind of thinking of quitting." She was shocked, thinking she was the only one with a problem with Chef.

"And why would you? I respect your decision, obviously. Honestly same. But im confused. I thought you liked it here?"

"I do like it here. But something doesn't feel right. I don't know how to explain it to you."

✎ ❀

It was 12.00 at night when y/n was called into chefs office. Dinner service had just ended and the kitchen staff was done cleaning. Making their was over to the dressing rooms he picked her from the crowd. And the guys could follow the entire conversation through the walls.

"Y/n I called you here because there are some things in your behaviour that are just unacceptable and you need to change some things."

"Im sorry sir, what exactly are you talking about?"

Im talking about the fact that you are here to work. Not flirt with your colleagues." He said it with such a stern look on his fave that she had no idea if he was kidding or not.

"Im sorry?"

"Y/n, im gonna get straight to the point. So far you have disappointed me in your abilities and have shown me nothing that you can be proud of. We, the guys and me feel like you spend more time flirting with Felix than actually doing your job, and today I also saw you with Hyunjin. Leave the boys alone or im going to have to fire you."

"Sir im gonna tell you something and you might not like it, but this company that you try to run? It sucks. You're not gonna have to fire me because I quit affective immediately. You can keep my last paycheque and shove it up a place where the sun doesn't shine. I hope you lose your staff and those stupid stars you worked so hard for."

"Leave my office now."

"Already leaving. And if I were you, I'd start working on the rat problem you have. It would be a shame if someone saw one and made an anonymous complaint with the health department."

She slammed the door closed behind her, rushed her way past her colleagues with her hand in the air as in a motion for them to not touch her and when Felix tried to grab her hand she shook it away. Not wanting anything to do with him at this moment.

It took all of them a moment to realise what just actually happened and as soon as it was processed, Felix stepped into the office, Hyunjin following him closely.

Not a single tear was waisted on that pathetic excuse of a leader on her drive home. She couldn't help but laugh a little bit mixed with the anger she had let out. It had been building up for a while and now that it was all let out she felt sooo much better.

She didn't even worry about her job, she could easily get another one. Another thought crossed her minds but quickly pushed it away.

Sitting down on her couch she let herself sink in and enjoy the weight that had dropped off her shoulders.

Walking to her kitchen she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. After that she changed into her pyjamas and sat back down on the comfortabel couch, not planning to get up again.

What would she do. There were about twelve job offers she could consider but was that really what she wanted. Was this where she wanted to take her talent. Her mind wondered to a new place, her place. She had an investor that would be interested in her doing this so realistically it would work. But what that something she was ready for.

A knock on her door interrupted her thought. She groaned out of frustration not wanting to get off of the couch. She waited 10 seconds before opening her front door.

Standing in front of her in all of his glory was Felix. His now long blond hair was a bit wet from the light rain outside. He only smiled at her, opening his arms for a hug which she gladly accepted.

She found comfort in his arms and it eased her mind. His hand held she back of her neck closer to him and they just stood there for a minute before letting go and coming back inside. Without talking they sat down on the couch. She sat between his legs and halfway layed on his chest.

"What happened after I left?" She questioned, taking his hand in hers and playing with his fingers.

A chuckle left his mouth.

"We quit, Hyunjin and I. We talked about it before but this was the last push we needed."

"Lix! Why did you quit? You kinda need a job." She couldn't help but laugh a little bit at what he said.

"And you should know better. Where you go. I go. I moved to Denmark with you remember?. We'll have to tell our next job that we're a package deal." He winked at her when she looked up at and stared at his eyes.

"Lix, what if we didn't search for a new job?" She questioned him, sitting back up and turning to face him a little bit more. His face read confusion.

"What do you mean, love?"

"What if, we finally called back those investors and opened our own place?" Her eyes held hope. Hoping he would say yes. They had talked about it before, but now it was serious. She ment it this time.

She tried to read his face but there were so many emotions to notice. God, she hoped he would say yes. She didn't really know what else to do. Finally when his mouth turned into a smile he responded.

"Let's do this." He grinned at her and she threw her arms tightly around his neck.

"You sure?" She needed to ask him, maybe he felt like he was pressured.

"I thought about it, and I think we can do this. It may even be the next step for us." He gleamed at the idea now. It would be their place instead of only hers, where he would work. Both of them would be owners.

"Let's look at our old Pinterest boards!" She exclaimed excitedly, dragging her laptop to her lap, laying back against Felix his chest. He pushed her back for a second to stand up. He missed her warmth immediately but if she was gonna drink wine, so was he. Grabbing himself a glass and taking the rest of the full bottle with him he sat back on the back and let her rest against him again.

This time she pulled a blanket across their laps and comfortably sat on the couch, just talking through their ideas.

Pastry's, cookies, pie's, cakes, chocolates

Felix would do the chocolates because Y/N hated temping the mass. Absolutely hated it. She made Felix do it on her final assignment and she finished it with an 8. But it was fine cuz he made her make his Sabayon.

It now was 4 in the morning and Y/N was talking through the paint options, Felix was too distracted to listen to her talking. His eyes watched her lips move and he did hear her voice. But all he could think about was how beautiful she looked. So passionate she glowed with love.

He wanted to kiss her but her back was still resting on his chest. And the fact she was just his best friend. They had finished the wine long ago and he definitely wasn't drunk. He knew what he wanted, had wanted since they first met.

His point finger traced her jawline and cheek and she pressed into his touch, wanting more. His stare at her was intense as he traced his finger across her bottom lip. Against his chest he felt her heart skip a beat. Scared he had gone to far he pulled his hand away but was stopped when it was dragged back.

Fuck it he was gonna do this. His hand pulled her chin in his direction, turning her face his way. When their eyes looked it was pure love they both say, and without thinking he grabbed the back of her neck and her jaw and pressed his lips to her.

She didn't even need to think and eased into the loving kiss. She had wanted this for so long but was scared of what it would do to their friendship.

The kiss was intense but long awaited. In the kiss she turned around so she could sit in his lap the other way around now wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him even closer.

His hands slid to her back, underneath her pyjame. A soft moan from her, made him insert his tongue into her mouth, making the  kiss even deeper than it already was.

"God you're so beautiful." He whispered against her lips and he felt her smile against his.

"I can do this all day." He said again continuing the make-out in the couch. She fully sat on his lap, softly grinding against him, making him groan from the friction of the jeans against him.

"Then do me all day." She grinned and with that he lifted her from the couch, guiding hee to her own bedroom, where the night didn't end till the sun began to rise again

[perfectsunlight]

[07] LEFT HANDED

warnings: none

PRESENT DAY

ivory sat in a bustling building, surrounded by her bandmates preparing for their latest award show pre-recording. they’d been at it all week just going over the final details of the choreography. truth be told, she felt like she could run her choreography and lines in her sleep.

thankfully, their first stage went well. despite the initial nerves, ivory knew she was ready. she had done her part and she knew her members had done theirs as well. everything went according to plan, except for her not planning to feel so empty after performing.

the fans cheered so loudly she could hear it even backstage, but she felt as if she was missing something. she watched her other members calling their mothers and fathers, sharing hugs and exchanging laughter over the phone.

she had everything in the world right now, but she was missing the only person she wanted around. however, she knew better than to ask jennie to come, especially after the last time she didn’t show up.

as they watched the playback and discussed their performance, a curious glance from one of the members pulled ivory from her thoughts of her mother. 

“are you left-handed?” chaewon asked, pointing to the way ivory held a microphone with her left hand. sakura joined in with a playful gasp, shocked to see this new information from one of the youngest members. “are you actually?”

ivory paused, caught off guard by the sudden attention to her hand preference. “yeah, i’m left handed.” she exchanged a quick glance with eunchae, who simply grinned and pointed at herself. “i always knew.”

yunjin playfully nudged eunchae, “you two go way back, of course you knew.” kazuha hummed in agreement. “but there’s no way we didn’t notice before. are you sure you didn’t recently become left handed?”

“yeah,” ivory replied with a small smile, her fingers wiggling in front of her members. “i've always been left-handed.”

chaewon raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “you know, left-handed people are supposed to be more creative, right?”

sakura nodded eagerly. “yeah, and they say left-handedness runs in families. do you have any other lefties in your family?”

ivory thought for a moment, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. most families were related, but her family was a bit different.

“only my aunt.”

—

JAPAN 2017

“aw, who is this?” lisa cooed as she watched jennie carry a toddler backstage. the bustling energy of a pre-concert atmosphere surrounded them, with staff members moving hurriedly and the other members of blackpink preparing for their performance. the soft hum of instruments being tuned and snippets of chatter filled the air space.

“this is jane, my baby cousin,” jennie lied, smiling softly as she shifted the little girl in her arms. jane wore a tiny pink dress with matching shoes, her chubby cheeks and wide eyes making her look like a living doll.

ivory’s brow furrowed slightly at the unfamiliar word "cousin," but she didn't say anything. she looked up at her mother with confusion, not fully understanding why jennie had introduced her that way.

the toddler stayed quiet, clinging to jennie as the members of blackpink gathered around, cooing over her.

“say hi to auntie lisa.”

jane ivory kim, with her big brown eyes and wisps of dark hair falling into her face, looked at lisa with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, peeking out occasionally to see if the thai girl was still there.

lisa laughed softly, reaching out to gently stroke the young child’s arm. “hi, jane! you’re so cute!” she turned to jennie with a playful smirk. “i didn’t know you had a cousin this young.”

jennie nodded, adjusting the toddler in her arms. “yeah, she’s visiting for a bit with some of my other family members. just thought i’d bring her along today.”

as they chatted, rosé walked over, her eyes lighting up at the sight of jane. jisoo stood next to her, smiling while waving at both jennie and the tiny girl in her arms. “who’s this little cutie?” the australian whispered, causing a pair of curious eyes to peer out from jennie’s hair. 

“this is jane,” jennie repeated, her smile never faltering. “she’s a bit shy.”

“hi, jane,” jisoo said softly, her voice as warm as her smile. jane’s eyes flickered between the women before she gave a small, tentative wave. “i’m jisoo.”

“she kind of looks like you, jennie.” lisa said with a small grin as she took in the toddler’s features more closely. their eyes were the same, cat-like and a warm shade of brown, and there was something about jane’s demeanor that mirrored jennie’s own.

jennie felt a pang of panic in her chest at her member’s observation but managed to keep her smile. “yeah, i guess the genetics are strong,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair from jane’s face. she was grateful for the dim lighting backstage, which helped hide the emotions swirling in her eyes.

lisa and jisoo went off to take instagram photos while rosie left to find her phone. jennie looked down at her daughter while ivory gently played with strands of her mother’s hair, causing the idol to groan softly. “hey, what did i say?” she whispered to the young girl, trying to maintain a stern tone despite the affectionate smile tugging at her lips.

jane giggled, her tiny fingers tangling in the soft waves. “i’m tired, mommy,” she whispered back, fighting back the urge to take a nap right there on her mother’s shoulder.

jennie’s blood ran cold at her daughter’s words. she quickly cleared her throat and gave her daughter a look that jane had never seen before. “i’m not mommy, not here,” she said firmly, her voice low and urgent.

ivory’s gummy smile faded, replaced by a confused pout. “why?” she asked, her small voice barely above a whisper. jennie’s heart ached at the confusion in her daughter’s eyes. she bent her head down, bringing herself to jane’s face. “just trust me, okay? don’t call me mommy,” she explained, hoping her daughter would understand.

the young girl nodded slowly, though she didn’t fully grasp the reason behind the lie. she remained silent, her eyes reflecting a mix of hurt and uncertainty. all she did was stare at jennie with a look of betrayal that cut deeper than words. jennie sighed, guilt weighing heavily on her as placed the girl down while straightening her own clothes. 

she ruffled jane's hair, trying to mask the guilt she felt. “now, be good for rosie, okay? i'll be back soon.” she whispered while holding her daughter’s hand and walking her to the greenroom where rosé was.

“hey rosie posie, can you watch her while i get my hair fixed?” the idol asked with a signature smile, gently ushering the young girl at her feet towards the brunette. the australian grinned warmly at jane. “of course, i'd love to hang out with you!” she said cheerfully, kneeling down to jane's eye level. “we can have so much fun together.”

jane nodded hesitantly, her uncertainty about her surroundings evident in her eyes. she clutched onto her mother's hand for a brief moment before letting go, giving jennie one final look over her shoulder as she was led away by rosé.

rosie looked through her bag before pulling out a pink pen and handing it to the young girl next to her. “do you want to draw?” she asked sweetly. jane hesitated for a moment, then nodded eagerly. she took the pen with her right hand, holding it awkwardly as she looked down at the blank sheet of paper rosie had set in front of her.

“here, let me show you.” rosie gently took jane's hand and guided her through the motions of drawing simple shapes. jane watched intently, her brow furrowing in concentration as she mimicked rosie's movements.

“there you go!” rosie praised, her eyes twinkling with encouragement as jane managed to draw a lopsided heart on the paper. “you're doing great!”

jane beamed with pride, her small fingers gripping the pen more confidently now. she continued to draw, each stroke becoming a little smoother as she got the hang of it.

rosie leaned back, watching jane with a fond smile. “you know, i'm left-handed. that's why i hold the pen like this,” she explained casually, not realizing the impact her statement would have.

jane paused, looking at her own hand and then at rosie's. “left-handed?” she echoed, her curiosity piqued. “yeah, it means i write and draw with my left hand,” rosie clarified, demonstrating with a few quick doodles on another piece of paper. 

jane glanced down at her right hand, suddenly aware of how different it felt compared to the brunette’s way of holding the pen. she quickly moved the pen to her other hand, mimicking rosie’s grip as best as she could.

“do you want to write your name? here,” the idol guided jane’s hand, helping her form the letter “j” with deliberate strokes. ivory’s brows furrowed in concentration, but soon a small smile spread across her face as she successfully wrote her first letter with her left hand. encouraged, she eagerly continued, with rosie patiently guiding her through each letter of her name.

by the time jennie returned, her hair freshly styled, she found jane writing on the setlist paper with rosie’s pen. “look,” the australian grinned while motioning towards the young girl who was too busy drawing to notice her mother’s return.

jennie's heart swelled with pride mixed with a twinge of guilt. she approached quietly, not wanting to startle jane. “wow, look at you.” jennie whispered softly, leaning over to admire her daughter's messy writing.

ivory looked up, her eyes lighting up with a mixture of surprise upon seeing her mother. she didn’t say a word, but simply held up the paper proudly.

“when did you learn that?” the idol chuckled while taking the paper to admire it. she glanced down and noticed which hand her daughter was holding the pen.

"left hand. rosie taught her how to write, not me." she thought to herself. jennie's smile faltered before it was replaced with genuine happiness spreading across her face.

“i guess she’s left handed. but seriously rosie, thank you for watching her,” jennie said sincerely, her gaze shifting to the brunette idol beside jane.

rosie nodded warmly. “she's a natural learner. it was my pleasure,” she replied, a gentle smile gracing her lips. 

“blackpink, you’re on in 5.”

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo @imahallucination11 @jisooftme @yerimbrit @linnnsworld @edeivveiss @urmom2314 @aespasoooool @mygfiswonyoung @yeetaberry127 @@sixflame438 @yourmyst4r @shegoswhoree @saysirhc @hwm1hyun @literallybipanic @yejiscene @gayforalll @yvsvrn @bunnywonyo @karifrogs @thefckghost @yoontoonwhs @pandafuriosa60 @somedaydream @hotluvlet @pagedpick7 @lizseos @cy8erpunkz @keiji-jin @lizseos

OPEN! COMMENT BELOW THE MASTERLIST TO BE ADDED

[hannahssimblr]

It’s an innocuous day in January when, for the first time, I realise my life can come apart just like anybody else’s. Like theirs, mine is a seam, a thousand tiny threads holding it firm, an analogy somewhere about a stitch saving time. Or nine. I don’t remember. My mother is too high class to sew her clothes. When they tear or wear at the elbows and knees, she buys more, because people like us don’t need to repair. 

Friends at school with fraying cuffs on their uniform sleeves, hems of their trousers unrolled and hanging raw about their ankles. Shirts, a rectangular echo of a pocket on the breast of the thing worn for years after being attacked in the hallways by boys who tore them off for fun. Happened to me too. Inevitable. A rite of passage on my first week of school. I wore a shirt still creased from the packet the next day, because my clothes never had to be old, worn, damaged. When something tore, another one appeared in my room. I was from the big house on Vernon Avenue. I had the PlayStation 2 before everyone else. My clothes were always new.

But this, all of this, is like when Jen’s school trousers ripped up the back the time she tried to climb on the cistern to have a cigarette out the window. The threads had been giving for a while. They just waited until that moment to let her know, in a violent display of embarrassment in front of the girls she was hoping to impress. It’s like when the elastic in your swimming togs gives up one day, falling to bits around your body after months of cooperation, eaten secretly by the chlorine the whole time. 

It starts with nothing. A pretzel. The bakery near the university I get my breakfast some mornings. Simple, a bagel and a coffee which I’ll take with me to class. Tuesday, that day. The day I have art history at nine with Steffen, the lecturer that fancies my girlfriend and loathes me. It’s my most dreaded hour of the week, one that calls for the comfort of a pretzel and a coffee, essential to get me through the slog of it, keep me sane while he pretends he cannot understand my German and corrects me sneeringly in front of everyone, determined to embarrass me. 

Card declined. 

“Ah, weird.” Trying again then, and another denying beep. Smiling sheepishly at the barista, explaining I don’t have cash on me. 

“It could be a problem with the machine. You can take it. You come here all the time, so just pay later if you want.”

Thank her. It was nice of her. Tell her I’ll be back in a couple of hours, after my classes, but I won’t be. My card is declined in the little Italian deli where I’ve met Astrid for lunch. It’s awkward this time. They’ve already made our sandwiches up. 

“I’ll pay it,” says Astrid after a long, uncomfortable pause, and presents a little blue debit card while it strikes me I’ve never actually seen it before. Never knew what her debit card looks like, and sort of assumed in some sense she didn’t even own one. Why would she? I think. What does she ever have to pay for?

The sandwiches, I suppose. Tasting worse than ever now, they are spoiled by the pungency of my guilt. We eat them by the river, hands freezing around the tinfoil wrapping, frowning at the water, as the wind lifts white peaks from its surface. “So weird about my card,” I say, but Astrid is disinterested, doing that flippant waving thing with her hand. “Sometimes the machines just don’t work as they’re supposed to. That’s why having cash is good.” She wants to talk about this Iranian film she and Dalia saw in an indie theater. I let her, all the distracted by thoughts of my bank account. It’s fine, surely. I have money. People like me have money. 

Early evening, with my earbuds in on the gym’s treadmill, and I hear a message chime. Jonas. I wipe the sweat from my brow and read it. It’s about the water bill. A message so unbelievably dull that usually I’d ignore it for a few hours, but now my stomach twists. I went back to the bakery after college to pay for my breakfast, and my card was declined again. It looks like I stole that pretzel now. I told the barista I’d come back in the morning with actual euros for her, and she smiled in this vacant way that made me feel like a liar, wanting so badly to explain to her I’m not, like, poor, or whatever. I can pay for it, while knowing that explanation would only make me look worse. 

And now Jonas is asking about the water bill, saying I never paid it. I step off the treadmill and stare at my phone. A drop of sweat hits the screen, magnifying the pixels, little dots of coloured screen, and emphasises the word paid for me, like I didn’t already understand the central theme of the text. As in, I have not paid my share of the bill. 

“I have,” I respond. “It should just come out of the account automatically.”

“It hasn’t,” he says, and sends a photograph of the bill, big überfällige Zahlung across the top of it in terrifying red lettering. Overdue payment. Surely not. My legs start feeling a bit weak, which is very dramatic. It’s fine. I have money. I hold on to the arm of the treadmill anyway, in case I decide to fall over. Someone is asking if I’m still using it. I tell him no and head for the changing rooms. 

I call Jonas from the UBahn on the way home, immediately confrontational on the phone to him. “I paid that bill.”

“Well, you haven’t,” he’s eating something. “If you had, then the letter would not say ‘überfällige Zahlung’.”

“That’s obviously a mistake.”

“I don’t think so,” rustling noises, him unfolding the paper for further examination. “I have never seen a mistake before like this, if that is the case. It’s more likely you didn’t pay.”

“I’ve direct debit set up, so.”

“Okay, then maybe your account is empty.” He says it so casually, mouth full of whatever he’s having for dinner. The nonchalance enrages me. 

“Don’t be so stupid,” I hiss, and someone on the train looks over. “There’s no way. I have loads. There’s something going on with my account today, is all. This is normal.” I have no idea whether it’s normal or not, but am sure there’s merit to saying it with such conviction. 

“When did you last check your account balance?”

Well, I’ve never checked it. The sight of it frightens me and reminds me of the drain and eventual cessation of life. Completely reasonable reason. “Jonas, I am telling you that this is a mistake.”

“You can check. When you get home, check.”

“Yeah,” I say, and hang up as the train hurtles from a station into a black tunnel, rumbling through the darkness. 

“You look unwell,” Jonas greets me as I arrive and untangle my scarf from my neck, choking me now, and kick my boots outside the door. Indeed, I do. My reflection is pale and wild-eyed, hair tousled from grabbing at it, like one of those Wall Street guys in the documentary my economics teacher made us watch to explain the recession. 

“Where’s my laptop?” I already know where it is. Need to look. Can’t bear to. Pushing through the apartment now with everything in a dizzying blur, shaky cam, the smell of Jonas’ cooking, him trailing behind, offering me a plate of it, as if I can even think about putting food into my mouth. 

My laptop is on the bed, tossed all casually on the rumpled duvet. Macbook. How much are these things worth? I never cared before this moment. Jonas is in the door as I type the banking website into the address. My codes then. Fuck sake. Don’t know them. I have to navigate through a chat with my mother to find them, heightening the suspense. Then punch them in. Check balance. 

It’s like being punched in the head, the feeling. Then there’s this long, deathly silence, because Jonas knows without me having to say it. He knows by the look on my face. 

“Do you–”

“I have four euros in my account.”

We look at one another for one endless moment, and I can tell he wants to laugh a bit, because it’s a funny kind of shocking. Four euros. A comically depressing number. 

“It’s fine,” he’s saying now. “You just top it up with more,” and then I look at him with the most scathing look I have in my repertoire, because for the first time, he’s the one who looks like the privileged idiot. I feel I have to speak to him slowly to control the emotion in my voice. Tremors anyway, wobbling there beneath every word. “Where do you suppose I get the money to top it up, Jonas?”

He falters. “I thought your parents gave you money.”

“They don’t.”

“But you… We all thought they were funding your lifestyle.”

“They weren’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

“But Jude,” he says, shaking his head at me. I don’t like that. “You were spending so much money all the time. We all thought you had an unlimited amount.”

“I wasn’t,” I snap. “I wasn’t, really.”

“The holidays you went on. The gifts for Astrid, the way you eat at restaurants every day…”

“Those things didn’t feel expensive. I thought I had enough money to cover it, or, I don’t know, I didn’t think. When I sold my car, I–it looked like…” I break off helplessly. “I got an A in maths, Jonas. How can this happen?”

“It’s basic subtraction.”

“This shouldn’t be happening to me.” my laptop fades to black now, the account disappearing from sight, but the reality still ringing in the surrounding air. I think of all I am about to lose. A vision of my life crashing down around me like a house of cards. “Astrid! Oh, God, Astrid. What is she gonna do?”

“She will have to buy her own things for once.”

I groan, head in hands, unable to formulate a response. How can I speak when my life is basically over? Condemned to the streets. One of those people rummaging through skips with holes in my shoes, saying mad things to people at the bus stop, terrorizing the feral pigeons in the town square. There he is, crazy bird man, a cautionary tale. He got an A in maths in his leaving cert, and this still happened to him. 

Jonas, there by the door, deciding it's the perfect time to ask whether I've paid rent this month.

Without looking up. “No,” One glance at my account was enough to show it’s been struggling along for a while. Hundreds becoming tens, whittling down through December to the last few euros. Pocket change. It’s been bad for a while. “No, I didn’t pay rent.”

“Hm,” he says. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Looking at him in despair, considering, briefly, a tantrum of some sort. Pure childhood panic. If I cause enough of a scene, this will all go away. Looking into Jonas’ face is frightening, because I can see it there. He doesn’t know what to do either. He isn’t going to help me. 

“What do I do?” I ask, as if he knows. Pity in his eyes, watching me flail. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Perhaps you can get a job.”

A job. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. A job. An actual job. Kill me. That’s the last thread. The one causes the seam to give and ruins my life. You don’t understand. I want to explain. I’m from the biggest house on Vernon Avenue. I had a PlayStation 2 before everyone else. Instead of saying that, I lie here like a corpse, staring at the ceiling, wishing some heavy piece of furniture would crash through it and turn me into one for real. 

“It’s not bad,” he says, not understanding how bad it really is. Unable to fathom the intricacies of my life. 

I don’t bother to answer. It’s the financial equivalent of being pantsed in the schoolyard. The blankets ripped off my sleeping body on a winter morning. I am a creature accustomed to the shade beneath a rock, exposed at last to the light, nothing left to shelter me.

A job. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[strayheartless]

Zakkura Headcanons: HOLIDAY EDITION

Cloud is not all that festive a person. He’s not a grinch (well, no he kinda is by definition) but he doesn’t really get “ready” for Yule like everyone else. He doesn’t decorate; you couldn’t pay him to wear a holidays sweater; he stopped believing in Santa at age four; and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to buy people gifts. Mostly because he’s never had friends to buy for, but he’s convinced himself it’s because he believes it’s stupid.

Zack. Loves. Yule. It’s his favourite holiday ever because of course it is! How can you not love Yule?! He loved “helping” his mom with baking and getting under his dad fee- I mean helping his dad decorate. Gift buying is the only thing he’s ever prepared for because he basically spends all year thinking about what to get people he likes.

Imagine Zack’s horror when he realises his best friend and crush isn’t bothered by the sights and smells of holiday cheer…

He immediately determines himself to making Cloud enjoy Yule. He’s a little neurotic about it actually -not that he lets Cloud know that, because Clouds suppose to be having fun FuN FUN! Angeal and Kunzel are both subjected to Zack’s ranting and frantic Christmas prep as he tries his absolute best to make sure Cloud has a good experience.

He invites Cloud around to Bake; drags him out in the cold to pick a tree; buys him festive drinks; drags him out AGAIN to Yule markets. Cloud for the most part silently puts up with it all, and even more privately enjoys the attention Zack gives him as the taller man tugs Clouds scarf up to cover his nose, holding his hands to warm them up.

Zack buys Cloud festive PJ’s for yules eve and basically wrestles him into them before making him park his butt on the couch to drink hot chocolate and cud- watch movies.

If Cloud falls asleep because he feels warm and safe then that’s a happy coincidence. If Zack takes advantage of his sleeping in order to tuck him into bed while Zack does some last minute wrapping and stocking stuffing then that is his business.

Cloud does have some traditions during the holidays. Namely on the actual day he will call his mom and ask if she got her present. He will stay on the phone for a while as he makes his lunch and assure her he’s fine. Yes he’s eating enough, no he doesn’t have plans today, no he’s not being bullied, yes he’s sure. It’s the same most years.

This year however when he calls her she is delighted to know that he’s spending the day with Zack. She chats animatedly with Zack about their family traditions and gushes over this “older boy looking after my baby”.

Zack keeps glancing giddily at Cloud who’s got a… hell, it’s a really fond look on his face. Clouds mom likes him! Clouds mom promised to send him mittens!

Zack wants to tell Cloud how he feels but He’s too busy making sure Cloud has a good day. Calling his own parents has Zack standing in the kitchen with a turkey baster having a mini panic attack while his mother over explains cooking times and stuffing. Then, like a guardian angel, Cloud takes the baster from him and preps the turkey like it’s something he always does.

Zack is struck with the domesticity of it all and desperately wants to blurt out “I’m so in love with you” but he doesn’t.

He had plans to tell him he swears. He’d boobie trapped the entire apartment with mistletoe and everything, but he’s so preoccupied with trying to make Cloud happy that he kind of puts it’s on the back burner.

Cloud however, beats him to it. It’s at the end of the night, when they are warm and full and cozy. They’d been playing chocobo racer, pushing at each other teasingly trying to put the other off, and then Zack had shoved Cloud a tiny bit harder than he ment too. Cloud -never one to go down without a hell of a fight- pulls Zack with him as he goes down.

They kind of just lay there for a second on their sides, Zack having rolled so he didn’t Crush his crush. And then Cloud gently leans in to Kiss Zack softly whispering a heartfelt “thank you” against his lips. Zack doesn’t have to ask what for, he knows he means the day, but he wants another kiss so he rolls Cloud on top of him, locks his arms around the smaller, and steals a couple more.

“Hey so will you be my boyfriend for Yule?”

��Just for Yule?”

“Or forever, Forever works for me if it works for you”

“Yeah that works for me…”

“Hey Cloud?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’m kinda stupidly in love with you.”

Cloud goes an adorable shade of red as he mumbles “me too” into Zack’s chest.

[kinbedo]

Have we been too critical with Natlan? Too harsh?

This art actually made me realise that Natlan isn’t as “modern” in terms of design as people put it. With Kinich and Wriotheseley right next to each other, you can easily say that Kinich’s bandana and earrings make him look pretty old-fashioned compared to Wriothesely. Even in the background, the Fontaine girls’ fashion has a completely different vibe while Ororon and Ifa do look like they’re from tribal settlements.

“Kinich looks like he should be in zzz.” The more I look at it, the less likely it seems. Sure, Kinich’s design doesn’t give that same ancient vibe like some other characters from other nations do, but he doesn’t feel “modern” enough to fit into zzz either. He’s stranded somewhere in between.

I’ve seen some people say that they don’t know what “Natlan” is supposed to be, as in it’s difficult to group the Natlan characters as part of one nation. Well, I believe the very “Natlan” thing about the characters (minus Mavuika and Varesa) are their accessories and the patterns on their clothes. There is a certain tribal vibe to each of the characters-

Kachina’s little forehead accessory, her top, and the arm cuffs

Mualani’s beach theme along with her bangles and the patterns on her skirt

Citlali’s clothes, her hair accessory (especially with the feathers) and her bangles and arm cuffs

Kinich’s tattoos, earrings and bandana

Chasca’s earrings and her cape with tassels

Iansan’s arm cuffs, necklace and the feathers and tassels

Ifa’s necklace and feathers

Ororon’s tattoos, scarf and cape and the patterns on them

Xilonen’s bangles and rings and her excessive hand accessories

What is Natlan? Flamboyant earrings, tattoos, feathers in the designs, tassels on their clothes, bangles and arm cuffs. Natlan character designs are not simple, they all have a bit too many tiny patterns all over them.

The main problem came with Mavuika’s design. I don’t remember Natlan hate being as overbearing as it is now before Mavuika’s bike was revealed. On top of all that, she is supposed to be from 500 years ago. And yet, she was seemingly the most modern character in Natlan.

As for Natlan’s technology, no, most of it is not more advanced than Fontaine, except Mavuika’s bike which was pretty uncanny (and Varesa’s stickers).

Chasca’s gun feels like a very primitive, very risky, attempted two-in-one version of the Antoine Roger Aircraft and a gun. Xilonen mentions that her gun is harder to tame than the wildest of qucusaurs.

Ajaw is an ancient dragon, and according to the lore, the dragons were highly advanced. Ajaw can also be referenced back in the “Little One” world quest in the Sacred Mountains. Also, during Tighnari’s quest, Abattouy’s experiments were recorded and were displayed through a projector. We also have film makers in Fontaine, and to present films, we need screens where they can be projected. So, we can say that the ‘projection’ technology is not a sudden thing unique to Ajaw.

Another problem with Natlan was the pace of the story.

Being released after Fontaine, people had high expectations for Natlan. Those high expectations only led to people being more disappointed with the archon quests. In Fontaine, every character got enough screentime or mentions for us to learn about their character. They made us grow attached to the characters and created a very emotionally immersive experience where the traveler wasn’t the main character. Almost every Fontaine character was the mc in their own rights.

Natlan, on the other hand, leaned into the typical “otherworldly hero saves the day” cliché with the traveler. The quests were also much shorter, not giving us any time to sympathise with the characters.

Giving credit where credit is due, the 5.1 war quest was phenomenal. The voice acting conveyed panic and the environment showed the destruction of war. Hoyo, overall, was heading in the right direction. And yet, Chuychu’s death didn’t hit hard enough because we barely knew her.

I don’t think most of the people would have minded it if the overall quest was 2 hours longer but elaborated more on the characters. Hoyo should have given us more time, more instances to familiarise with the cast while slowly building up for the war.

Commissions with Kachina to clear out hilichurl camps, visiting the Scions of the Canopy with Kinich where we’re shown how much busier they’ve gotten, searching for Xilonen only to realise she’s all over the place trying her best to get the weapon ready. Nature is very sensitive to changes and animals are highly perceptive to disturbances and this could have been conveyed through Ororon and his farm and Ifa and him noticing the saurians getting more restless.

The war arc should have been after all the tribes were released. This way, we could’ve gotten to know the characters better and the situation would’ve had even more of an impact. What made the desensitisation worse was the fact that the tribal chronicles, the supposed story quests, barely focused on the characters themselves, thus making us even more disconnected.

They didn’t have to give all the tribes their own, major region. They could have made the tribe areas smaller and released them as part of one region and instead given us land with destruction. This part comes under environmental story-telling. We could have gotten map expansions showing how some places have become inhabitable, like the islands in Inazuma.

We also could have gotten a really cool cutscene with all the characters during the war. Natlan has introduced new travel mechanics and a cutscene where we see the things in first person through another character’s eyes would have been really cool.

We could’ve had Mualani surfing over the water and falling in as she’s trying to get to places that need her, the camera angle switching to finally show Mualani, getting back on her surfboard. Kinich traversing through the thick woods, the leaves getting in his face. He turns to look at the destruction around him, knowing that the people laying on the ground may never wake up. Xilonen roller skating and trying to rescue people. Varesa rushing up the volcano and breaking the rocks along her way. A cutscene like this could have conveyed the sense of panic everyone felt during the war. It could have ended with Chasca, stumbling to the ground in front of the Stadium with Chuychu in her hands.

Also, you’re telling me the power of the six heroes was enough to break through the false sky, and yet Mavuika only needed the traveler to help her put an end to the 500 year long struggle? When the traveler needed to get to the hotspots, they had to wait for the hot air balloon to slowly take them there? While Mavuika, the only person with a bike, the fastest vehicle in the nation, stayed back in the Stadium?

If Mavuika didn’t have a bike, perhaps certain parts of Natlan wouldn’t feel so odd.

What could Mavuika have had instead? I was imagining her abilities to look like Bakugou’s from My Hero Academia. To put it in simplest words possible, Bakugou can create explosions from the sweat on his palm, and can use those explosions for movement and attacking. Mavuika’s abilities could have revolved around thermodynamics.

Another thing I wish they had highlighted with Mavuika was why the pyro archon is human. Perhaps they could have added points such as “the fire power burning away at the weilder’s body, and since it gets too much for them to handle, the pyro archon has to be switched regularly, and is thus human.” They could have added other clues to this in her design, such as making it seem like her skin is slightly burnt near her hair.

I will add more to this as and when I notice things. This was just me clumsily putting together my thoughts on Natlan’s design and story. And the more I think about it, the more I realise that my distaste for Natlan was more heavily formed by community opinions rather than my own. “Complain impact” really does feel apt when all the people have done is point out the shortcomings rather than appreciate the overall details.

If you got this far, thank you for being patient with me. I would love to hear your thoughts too!