#let them heal let them be happy let them be together forever

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Just… the utter relief and happiness on Rayla’s face when Callum hugs her… she’s waited so, so long for him to hold her again 💕

[fregget-frou]

Angel oc angst and their backstory + personality

I love Aklaq so much

Aklaq is getting better at it but they’re still very self conscious about their injuries when they were 16. They got into a nasty car accident where they had to have their left leg amputated because of the damage from the fire. Since then they’ve hated how less mobile they seem to be, and angry with them for struggling with things. Aklaq used to be the families support and did most of the work along with their younger brothers and took a lot of pride in being strong and reliable. Since then they struggle to do alot of prolonged activities because of chronic pain and less stamina. They hate being looked down upon and it was a large problem in the beginning of them and David’s relationship because he kept on belittling them and trying to do things for them because they’re disabled. This led to a large fight when David was constantly forcing them to stop doing chores and generally anything physical which led to them breaking down because they felt trapped.

They’re trying but it’s hard, both them and David are very reserved people just expressing that in different ways and they both struggle to make meaningful relationships. Aklaq lost their mom before they moved to California for college and simply couldn’t stand being in the same place where she used to be so they left. Their little brothers were old enough to live on their own but still felt hurt as Aklaq refused to talk about their mom and even acknowledge she died. When angel finally accepted that their mom was gone it was hard but at the very least David was their to be able to get that feeling. Their mom and Aklaq had a similar dynamic with David And Gabe, Aklaq being the oldest and being the one to take over the family farm, being raised by their mother alone because their father passed etc.

Aklaq is an older oc that I adapted into a listener and I find their personality along with David’s to be great together, even with the clashing because they are in similar situations and can lean on each other. I just love them pls

[acourtofquestions]

JUST FINISHED CHAPTER 23 OF CROWN OF MIDNIGHT!!!

AND I LEGIT DONT WANT TO READ ANYTHING ELSE — BECAUSE ITS GONNA RUIN IT — THERE ARE TOO MANY BOOKS LEFT IN THE SERIES FOR THESE CHARACTERS TO BE THIS HAPPY AND ALSO STAY THIS WAY — BUT ITS JUST SO PERFECT

AND I JUST WANT TO BE HAPPY WITH CELAENA AND CHAOL FOREVER

WHYYYYYYYYY

[imaginedisish]

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

[jo-com]

Welp I just read the other woman and j needed a second part! Like either a good or bad ending

I am in such need 🙏🙏🙏

⋆｡˚ 🩹༝༚➛ Healed

Charles Leclerc x Ex!fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mieux

Summary: Part 2 of The other woman

Genre: Jealous Charles and Alex, A little bit of SMAU, Angsty but also fluff

Fc: Alexa Demie

Note: Thanks for the support for the first part!! Hope you guys like this

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ༘˚⋆🍯 ｡⋆─ ───────

After endless months of isolation and loneliness— you’ve decided to finally move on and slowly let yourself be free from the traumatic experience, that you once called ‘love’.

While moving on doesn’t mean that you’ve erased them from your heart— they’re still there, alongside the precious memories that the three of you all shared. Those moments that were both good and bad, will forever be embedded into your heart and soul.

You’ve also been trying to put yourself out more; Going out with friends and spending more time with family.

But at the same time, building back the walls that they have broken— by treating and loving yourself in a way that they used to do but stopped half way. It was now time for you to heal and find solace by your own.

From buying comfort foods to expensive things, it all made you a tiny bit better. The hurt was still evident but was now slowly fading into a memory— a memory that you wish to forget.

Only by loving yourself will make amends from the broken heart that they have caused.

…

Then unexpectedly you met someone. Two people actually.

You said love will never bloom again but meeting them says otherwise. Your once dead heart was now slowly opening up to someone again, it was hard at first, but they made sure that you are as comfortable and safe around their embrace.

…

Alex_albon

Liked by lilymhe, Landonorris, and 2,489,012 others

Alex_albon finally found our other half🌷

Tagged; @Miss.yn, @lilymhe

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Username1 EXCUSE ME??

Username2 sir what??

Carlossainz55 so glad that you’re happy @/Miss.yn

Miss.yn they make me happy!

Lilymhe aww babyy🥹

Alex_albon @/Miss.yn💋💋💋

Username3 finally someone who doesn’t hide her in the dark🙄

Username4 Fr she deserved better

Username5 why is she alway leeching of on couples

Sydney_sweeney FINALLY

Username6 i love them alrdy

Username7 in the shadows no more!!

…

…

➛ Message (Between Alex and Charles)

…

Alex’s post blowed up in all the social media platforms; leaving people curious and wanting for more information. For them it was an unexpected match, no one ever thought about it, but seeing you guys together just felt right in a way.

You were also surprised at their reaction, thinking that they would be against it like in your past relationships. I mean there were still haters but there are more people supporting you than before. You were so happy.

Everything was going great— you’re heart felt full once again and you were no longer hiding in the shadows; you were, you and were loved by two people who aren’t afraid to show you off.

It was all doing okay, well not until Alex and Charles contacted you; asking you if you were doing well and chatting other formalities as if you guys were okay. They never did do that when you guys broke up, not a single “are you okay?” Text from either one of them.

Now when you’re finally happy they decided to talk? Tsk

…

…

You let out a heavy sigh, a feeling of relief crashing down on you. Closures were never your thing but in this case, it was freeing. You were no longer in the shackles of sorrow that they’ve made. You were free.

A smile of contentment stretched along your face— your thoughts running back to you two new lovers who were there for you, through lows and highs.

…

Miss.yn

Liked by lilymhe, Carlossainz55 and 4,290,129 others

Miss.yn Meeting you guys is a dream come true🫀

Tagged; @lilymhe, @Alex_albon

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Lilymhe STOP I AM BLUSHING🤭

Lilymhe I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

Username8 take notes on how to love someone @/Charles_Leclerc

Alexandrasaintmieux so happy for u..

Username9 now this is love!

Username10 i hope this love last🤩

Alex_albon my two babies🌷

Miss.yn 😍😍😍

Lilymhe STOP YN IS MINE

Username11 HELP WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABT THE LAST PIC??

Username12 fr they lowkey making out and don’t give a shit😭😭

…

Sorry for not updating so much, my school started and it’s hard to multitask, I promise to do more🙏🏻

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: What Greek Mythology love story would you and your FS be?

○●○●○●○●○●○●

[pile 1 to 3- left to right]

Just came out of a bone-crushing healing and shadow work period for my Kundalini Awakening going on right now T-T In an attempt to raise my spirits, I created my very first FS reading-

pile 1:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

This is the movie pile. I see a full-blown movie arc in my mind’s eye for your love story with your FS. I see an opening at- you guys meeting, the middle act- your separation and individual trials, and the final act- the happy reunion! OBVIOUSLY, there's nuance to how all of this will unfold for each of y’all reading since it's real life we're talking about, but your story with your FS is the closest thing to a happily-ever-after if I've ever seen one.

It's like when y’all first met, y’all were young, or maybe some of y’all didn't know how to handle a relationship or didn't have the resources in the 3D (think money or a place of your own, something like that) to make this relationship happen? Maybe it was long distance for a looong time? And so, for whatever reason (along said lines) y’all had to let each other go or y’all couldn't be together. It's like y’all were shown a grand possibility to be together, and BOOM it was taken away.

Then you guys enter a separation period right after, and the length of this period will differ for everybody reading, anywhere between months to a couple of years. After having worked HARD on yourselves ON YOUR OWN to overcome your personal issues, traumas, and suffering, you guys come together. The key to really mastering your obstacles is in the day to day. You will have set routines to tackle your obstacles, such as say you’ve got anxiety or a dys-regulated nervous system, so maybe you'll always have a stress relief meditation scheduled in no matter how your day looks. So on and so forth, fill in the details of this period as it best suits your life. But the common denominator, I feel like, is that y’all really fight to be with one another. The love is so deep here, and that's what motivates each of you to overcome your personal hurdles, yk? And THEN, when it happens, and y’all reunite, it's sooo beautiful. It's like you guys will build a brand new life together where you can put the past behind and finally enjoy the fruits of your labor! Also, I see you guys growing and blossoming over time with your FS upon reunion 🥺✨.

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Cupid and Psyche!

From what I’ve read about this story, Cupid and Psyche couldn’t immediately be together after they met. Cupid could only meet Psyche at night AND she’s not even allowed to see him! T-T This was part of what Psyche has to overcome- the challenges put forth by Aphrodite just because the goddess was jealous of Psyche. And poor Cupid had self-esteem issues from what I gather lmao. He didn't even feel worthy to show his mortal wife what he REALLY looked like (which, by the way, is GORGEOUS af?! Like who hurt you, Cupid?) They eventually overcome their odds and reunite. Eventually, Jupiter blesses Psyche with immortality, which allows them to live forever in their new life happily ever after. Ahhh… beautiful.

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Buuut that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 2:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Reeeeally strongly coming in right off the bat, I feel like both you AND your FS will be turning a brand new leaf in your lives. Think a new job for one or both of you. A major relocation for one or both of you. A major relationship ending for one or both of you. You catch the drift, right?

It feels like y’all will be closing out a cycle and entering into a new era, so to speak. And in this new era, I sense that you'll keep mostly to yourself and aren't all that interested in anybody because you're still processing this BIG shift you just went through and you're reflecting a lot, drawing on your wisdom, staying in your lane. Ngl, you do feel vulnerable and raw too, which is probably why you seem to keep to yourself mostly during the time you might run into your FS. I sense the same from their end too.

You know what this is? Mutual healing. Your future spouse finds you at a time when you're in the dead center of healing and vice versa. You will both be the catalysts to each other's healing! How cool is that? And after y’all find stability in your journey together especially after navigating healing for so long… I see y’all being so comfortable and content and peaceful with one another 🥺 this makes my heart full!! Stop it! Ahhhhhh <3 The vibes are immaculate, it's giving 'comrades in the battlefield' kinda energy. Your FS will stick with you no matter what, literally. And that's the kind of loyalty many people only dream about. Love it 🤌🏾. Y’all will love each other's pain away 🥺😩. Ugh my heart can't take it anymore!

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

It’s the story of Odysseus and Penelope!

Now in the story of Odysseus and Penelope, both of them undergo significant changes and face major disruptions in their lives. Odysseus’s long journey home from the Trojan War and Penelope’s long period of waiting and dealing with suitors at home. BUT even in Odysseus's absence, Penelope remains faithful and focused on her own survival and household. Similarly, Odysseus endures many trials and tribulations. Both characters are found in a state of self-reflection in the face of personal challenges (in my humble opinion of course). Their reunion symbolizes mutual healing… both of our characters here show incredible loyalty and perseverance despite being apart for 20 years!

-Side note: on a completely different note, your story low key kinda reminds me of the story of James and Claire from Outlander >< shoutout to the Outlander fans hehehehe, I'm waiting for the 9th season to come out SO BAD ughhhh lmao-

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages for yourself! Annnnd that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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pile 3:

General vibe of your love story with your FS-

Ah.. my Pile number 3s.. you guys are afraid to love.. aren't you? You might be blocked off from your heart and as a result won’t be open to true reciprocal and healthy love for a WHILE. But then I see that the divine will enter your life in some way and shake you up in a big way to show you how you've been standing in your own way and keeping love at a distance.. I'm seeing the tower card in my third eye as I say this even though it hasn't come out for you today.

Ah, this is like a personal journey I see you taking before your FS comes in and swoops you off your pretty lil feet 🙃 tehe! Your energy seems quite mental to me. You love living in your head, thinking, planning, analyzing, and just knowing things. But this came at the grave cost of not being connected to your heart.. and when the divine intervenes and helps you connect to your heart again is when your FS comes in flying ✨.

Side note: Ooh.. suddenly I hear Lavender Haze by our queen Taylor Swift? Take that only if it resonates for you :]

But yea, I see you struggling and feeling out of control when all of this happens because you're used to being in control of things usually but now all of this has you a bit overwhelmed I'm ngl.. but you end up navigating this perfectly well! Yay! I'm glad haha 😅🫂👏🏾

So… which Greek myth sums up YOUR love story with your FS the best?

drum roll

The story of Pygmalion and Galatea!

Yup, just like how Pygmalion accidentally manifested Galatea, you kinda accidentally manifest your future spouse too (low key reeeal funny ngl). Because Pygmalion refused to love anybody, he sculpted out his perfect woman and fell in love with his creation. His deep affections attract the attention of you guessed it Aphrodite herself, and she decides to ahem intervene. She brings Galatea to life, which represents the transformation of Pygmalion's mental fixation (and emotional disconnection) TO emotional CONNECTION. How perfectly beautiful. Ugh. Love your story, Pile 3. Gosh.. who doesn't love their FS simply falling into their laps? Haha

I encourage you to read the original story (or watch it on YT, do whatever you like :p) to pick up on any additional messages! Soooo that’s all I have for you lovely folks today.

Love and loads of light, sweet pea :)

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[ozarkthedog]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: it's been years since Dieter last saw you, his childhood friend and the unrequited love of his life. still, he doesn’t blame you for leaving.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!childhood friend!reader

warnings: angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic. w.c: 1.0k

an: for @punkshort AU August writing challenge, I was given the prompt, “childhood friend with Dieter Bravo” thank you so much for hosting! huge thanks to @ghotifishreads for letting me talk your ear off about this little idea that took on a life of it's own and for reading this over. ilu!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Dieter rubs a hand over his face as he steps from the SUV into a throng of flashing lights and frantic screaming. It was the premiere of his first directorial and writing debut; a lot was riding on this.

Sure, he'd won an Oscar and various other award nominations, but this was an entirely different beast. This movie was special to him. It was the first script he wrote after getting "clean." He always scoffed at that word. Clean. Was he pure and holy now simply because he kicked hard drugs to the curb?

He takes a deep, slow breath, adjusts his velvet purple suitcoat, and moves down the red carpet. He autographs cards and pictures, takes selfies, and banters with a few fans before moving on to the press.

It doesn't feel right being here alone, he thinks, his left side feeling raw and exposed like a wound that never healed. 

After rewriting the script several times, he has his assistant mail it to a few studio execs before having them print out one last copy. He wrote down your name and told them to send you the script. He wanted to deliver it to you in person; it felt like the right thing to do, but he couldn't be sure you ever wanted to see him again after what he put you through.

He's stronger these days. Mentally and physically healthier. He's lost a bit of weight now that he's no longer downing pills and chasing them with alcohol. It took him a while to get used to feeling again. Sitting with the uncomfortable thoughts and not letting them take control. He's proud of himself. He thinks you would be, too. 

You.

Seeing a large open field littered with red flowers while driving home from rehab for the second time kicked him square in the gut. Flashes of his youth came back in vivid, blinding colors.

Chasing his dog, Dali, around the yard. Playing with you in the field of wildflowers behind your house. His throat tightens.

You.

You were his reason. The sun he revolved around—inseparable childhood friends.

When you first met Dieter, he was covered in chalk dust, drawing funky, green aliens with big eyes on the sidewalk in front of his childhood home. You'd just moved in next door, and your Mother told you to go make friends. He looked at you in awe as you stood before him, the sun creating a golden crown around your head. "Wanna be friends?" you blurted before kneeling and pestering him about his chalk alien.

From that moment on, you were forever linked. Dieter never wanted anyone else.

From scabbed knees and hide & seek to strange body changes and long school days. Consoling Dieter after he's pushed into a locker, copying each other's homework, watching Dieter shine on the theater stage, and spending almost every minute together that you could.

He wondered if you ever felt the love he held for you—the love that surpassed sibling bonds and grew stronger every time he laid eyes on you. The love that made him self-conscious and shy away from speaking his truth despite years of yearning. He couldn't convince himself to jeopardize the friendship or that you might possibly feel the same.

Cut to Dieter asking you to move to LA with him to be his assistant once his star power steadily rose. 

To the elaborate movie sets and lavish premieres, to the long nights and unspoken feelings. 

To find Dieter on the floor with vomit spilling from his lips to the empty bottles of pills and booze splayed around his Hollywood Hills home. 

The bickering, the raging parties, and the friendship that was slowly dying. 

The shell of a man he used to be. 

You were never around when he needed you the most after he drowned himself in booze and pills. He never blamed you. He was often inebriated, covered in a mess of sweat and other fluids. You could only stand to see him self-medicate for so long. 

"I can't keep doing this," he remembers you saying as tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled while he sat in a crumpled heap at the foot of his unmade bed with that usual glazed look. "I can't keep trying to save you."

He remembers wanting to argue, to save whatever piece was left. He tried to chase after you, but his brain and body were still under the haze from the night before, limbs heavy as lead weights, and they no longer listened to his commands. 

How your face twisted with a devastating sadness made his heart shatter. He never meant this to happen, for it to get this bad.

Had Dieter known the repercussions, that the last image he'd have of you would be wiping fallen tears that he caused from your cheeks, he would've gotten clean eons before. He would've let this version of himself die without a second thought. He wanted to be the man you counted on, with your best interests at heart. 

The man you knew him to be.

—

Just as he's about to step into the theater, he hears a voice call his name—a voice that would wake him from the dead. 

You.

His heart aches; it bursts with unnerving energy as he watches you approach. His gaze never leaves you as you glide across the room to where he stands, frozen. Could he be hallucinating?

"Hi D," his nickname sounds like heaven as it leaves your lips. He never wants it to end; he wants to hear it forever. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner. I needed to make sure I was in a good headspace to see you again." You nervously wring your fingers, and Dieter can't stop himself from reaching out and locking your hands together, calming your combined anxious energy.

"It's okay," he whispers, throat tight, holding back elated tears, "I'm glad you're here."

A smile tugs at your lips, eyes shiny with your own tears. "Me too."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[imsandra]

HE SEE

Pairing: Azriel x Female reader

Summary: Love and promises don’t last forever, but guilt and remorse do.

Warning: Angst, sadness. Let me know if anything happens.

Word Count: 4962 

Notes: We have the continuation of “I See”. I’m proud of this. Thanks to those who asked for another part; you make me very happy. My friend told me that this second part has the song “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” by Taylor Swift, it’s just a recommendation.  

I hope you enjoy it. Please leave your comments on what you think, suggestions are always welcome as long as they are meant to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes that I receive.

Happy reading!

I see (1)

Velaris, the City of Starry Light, was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Azriel stood in the room of his new home, gazing through the window as the rain soaked the city streets. Sleeping had not been an option since he left the home he had shared with Y/N for the past centuries. It had only been a week since he did so, since he left his heart bleeding.

In the bed lay his mate, Liria, fast asleep. He had met her a couple of months ago, and of course, they had had their first date. She had joined as a new spy for the court, alongside Nuala and Cerridwen.

Liria was absolutely different from Y/N. She had dark blonde hair, her eyes were a sea-green color, and her lips were thin. At times, she was cold, and when her work took up too much of her time, she became distant. But with Y/N, she always found time to talk to him; she was sweet and the perfect mix of a woman who knew she wanted to be with him. Sometimes, at dinner, Liria simply ignored his trivial day-to-day conversations, or sometimes, neither spoke.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way for him. He had imagined that with Liria, he could have an even deeper connection than he had with Y/N; that they would embrace the bond, talk about getting married and having children in the future. But everything was turning out the opposite.

The Master of Spies couldn’t forget the feeling of wanting to be close to Liria on the day they met.

It was just a training session, training the next spies who would serve the Night Court, and then he would return home to his beautiful and sweet girlfriend to kiss her and catch up, as he always did.

Liria and Azriel were in fighting positions, assessing each other as opponents.

“This time, Liria, you need to trust your instincts,” he told the blonde.

“I always do, Azriel. Do you doubt me?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.

So when Liria attacked, it was directly at the feet of the Shadowsinger. The blonde slid across the training field floor to strike Azriel's right ankle. It was an unexpected move for him, and he fell to his knees. With the same determination, Liria lunged to throw him onto his back and ended up on top of him, their faces inches apart, about to kiss.

Azriel was astonished by the energy enveloping them both. He didn’t expect that just before the sea-green-eyed girl attacked, the bond that connected their souls would shatter. He could only watch as their faces were a breath away from kissing, and though he wanted to, he didn’t. His girlfriend was waiting for him at home, and he had plans with her. But the beautiful blonde girl was his mate , not Y/N, whom he had always thought their souls were destined to be together, whether or not there was a mating bond. Perhaps it was at that moment that he realized, no matter what, he longed for that bond with her, with Y/N.

And the mother was wrong about them.

Azriel sighed and decided to take flight, while the rain was just a kiss on the skin and a sigh in the night.

Sometimes, the people who heal you are the same ones who break you.

Y/N barely had the energy to avoid neglecting her work. Part of her was dedicated to designing costumes in a small boutique in the city center. Her busy life kept her occupied most of the time, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Azriel crossed her mind at the most inopportune moments: while designing, during conversations.

So when Mei, her coworker, told her that she had received a letter from the Dawn Court as a sign, Y/N decided to share the news with Feyre. They had agreed to meet at their usual café, right in the artist's quarter, in the Rainbow.

When Y/N arrived, Feyre was sitting by the window as always, sketching in a notebook.

“Sorry I’m late, Fey,” Y/N greeted her friend.

“Don’t worry, darling, I just got here,” Feyre replied.

The two women ordered their usual drinks while catching up on their work.

“Az hasn’t shown up at the River House or the Wind House,” the blue-eyed brunette informed Y/N. “Rhys has been worried, but his work hasn’t allowed him to take any time off,” Feyre continued.

“I don’t think Rhys should worry about Azriel,” Y/N responded. The name of the Shadowsinger came out in a broken whisper. “He must be with his mate,” she continued.

“Y/N,” Feyre called her friend, “Rhys isn’t worried about him, not right now or about his partner,” she confessed with tender eyes, while looking at Y/N, who was lost in her thoughts.

It took 10 seconds for Y/N to understand what her friend was telling her.

“Rhys wants you to come to the house to spend the afternoon. He misses his friend, Nyx misses his aunt, and I miss you too,” the brunette admitted. “Actually, everyone does,” the fae continued.

“I’m not his aunt anymore, not anymore,” Y/N whispered with a hoarse and broken voice.

Feyre stood up from her chair and moved closer to Y/N. She sat beside her, pulling her close to her chest as she hugged her. Y/N couldn’t resist, so she hugged back, burying her head in her friend's neck and letting her guard down. She cried as her adventurous mate  held her tight and whispered that it was okay, that she had her, and that she wasn’t alone. Nothing else mattered, neither the fae watching them nor the coffee cooling on the table. Only the two of them, only Y/N was Feyre’s concern. She was her friend, and although she had met her through the Shadowsinger, she knew enough to assure that she would always be her friend.

After a while, they slowly pulled away, and Feyre wiped the few tears from Y/N’s cheeks. She took her hands and looked into her eyes.

“You will always be Nyx’s aunt. He adores you, and I know you adore him too,” she said with the kindest voice she had for her friend. “Besides, I’m sure you miss him too,” she added, smiling.

“Yes, I miss my mischievous boy,” Y/N choked out with a hoarse voice. “And I also miss the others,” she continued.

“I knew it,” Feyre said with a small laugh. “So... will you accept coming to the house?” she asked with a calm and hopeful voice.

Y/N thought for a while. If Azriel hadn’t shown up at her friend’s house or the house where he used to live before meeting her, what were the chances of running into him?

“Alright, I’ll go,” she agreed.

“Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll prepare your favorite meal. Maybe Rhys will want to share some of his cherished wines,” Feyre mentioned with a smile.

Both women laughed, knowing it was hard to convince Rhys to share some of his wines, but it was no secret that there were always two people who took them without permission from the great lord.

A new day, another day at work. Y/N finished one of the designs she had been working on for a week. She asked Mei to pack it up, as they would pick up the dress later. With that, she ended her workday and returned to her apartment. She hadn’t moved into a new one yet; she couldn’t, not yet. So she decided to keep her mind occupied preparing for the meeting that afternoon.

Y/N was in her dressing room, surrounded by clothes she used to wear with Azriel, and it was a difficult decision. She had designed some outfits for their dates, family dinners, anniversaries, or special nights. Maybe she should have just bought something new and avoided this debate she knew she wouldn’t win.

In the end, she opted for a simple pair of pants and a shirt that had been shoved at the back of the closet, low heels, and understated yet carefully done makeup, trying to hide her dark circles and signs of exhaustion. She finished with her favorite perfume, no jewelry, since Azriel had been the one to gift her small collection since he entered her life. She couldn’t help but imagine going to this meeting with him, as they had done so many times before: her sitting at the vanity, finishing applying her lipstick, and the Shadowsinger behind her, watching her through the mirror. It would only be a moment before he would approach to fasten the necklace he had returned, kiss her cheeks, and tell her how beautiful she looked. She wouldn’t arrive late just because Azriel decided to take Y/N and lay her on the bed, just to kiss her and tell strange jokes. She wouldn’t arrive with wrinkled clothes from struggling to get them both up.

They would never again arrive holding hands.

Y/N stood at the entrance of her friend’s house, looking at the garden where Azriel and she had played with Nyx, a garden that had witnessed so many happy moments, and now they were just that, moments. The house that had scared her so much the first time Azriel introduced her to his family. The fae took a deep breath, preparing to knock on the door, but paused for a moment when she heard the boisterous laughter of Cassian, followed by Mor’s laughter and Nyx’s small chatter, her nephew. She couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on her face, so she knocked on the door.

She was met with Cassian’s fierce hug when he opened it. He might have stopped her breath if he had hugged her a little tighter. She hugged him back, and little steps echoed as Nyx appeared at the door.

“Auntie! Auntie!” the child shouted, jumping up and down so she would pick him up.

“No, I saw her first,” said the general, too loudly for the little heir to hear.

“Lies, it was Uncle Az!” the child babbled, pushing at Cassian’s legs.

The general slowly released her, whom he considered his sister-in-law, to see her face and make sure she was okay. Y/N greeted him with a forced smile, silently assuring him that she was fine.

The woman bent down and picked up Nyx, who squealed and hugged his aunt. She couldn’t blame Nyx; he didn’t know yet. That his Uncle Azriel and Auntie Y/N were no longer together. So she showered him with kisses all over his face, tickling him, and the child burst into laughter. Cassian smiled at the scene until he felt someone else’s presence behind him.

“Are you going to let her in, or are you going to wait until the three of you freeze out here?” the father of the little black-haired boy questioned. “Nyx, darling, let go of Y/N, it’s my turn,” Rhys continued.

“No,” Nyx grumbled with a pout as he clung to Y/N’s neck.

“Then it will be a group hug; just try not to kill me,” Y/N attempted to joke.

The two adults laughed and moved in to hug her. She felt a part of her heart warm with the love of a family. A moment later, the four of them entered the house, leaving the cold weather behind for the warmth of the home.

Everyone greeted her: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Nesta, and even Amren hugged her, which was unusual for her. The table was decorated with her favorite food and even her favorite wine, courtesy of the High Lord, just as Feyre had said.

One more task to complete. It would be the last of the afternoon, and then she could have dinner with Liria, and maybe, just maybe, cuddle together. He had postponed some of his reports since he left Y/N and had also not visited his siblings’ house. He needed time.

Liria entered Azriel’s small office, where he was sitting reading one last report. She approached quietly and kissed him on the cheek. The Master of Spies shivered from the sudden affection and tensed his wings. It was one of the few times his mate showed affection, and almost always his body reacted the same way. Even his shadows didn’t approach her; he was sure they missed Y/N. And how could they not, when the woman with whom he had shared almost everything would enter his office in the loudest way, with a radiant smile that could light up an entire universe, his universe? She would shower him with kisses and hugs, then sit in his favorite sofa while keeping him company, creating new designs for her shop. And just now he noticed she was wearing one of the robes she had made for him.

He responded to the blonde with a tense smile.

“Are you almost done?” he asked.

“Yes. Where are you going?” she asked, noticing Liria’s outfit.

“I’m going out with some friends; I just came to let you know,” she whispered close to his lips and gave him a kiss. “Don’t wait up for me; you should rest,” she advised him, and with that, she left through the door of his office.

Another night added to the many nights he would spend dining alone, once again.

The doorbell of the river house echoed inside the property. Rhysand frowned and turned to look at his mate . “Are we expecting anyone else?” he questioned mentally to Feyre, who simply shook her head. Everyone had settled in the living room of the house to continue their conversation. Nyx was in his room with his aunt Elain; he had fallen asleep.

Rhys got up from the couch and walked to the door. He did not expect to see the person on the other side, at least not today.

“Azriel,” he said his name as if afraid they would know he was there. “What are you doing here?” he asked his brother.

“I came to deliver… Y/N,” he whispered, his breath catching. “Is she here?” he asked.

There was no way to lie. Her scent drifted into the Master of Spies’ lungs just as he remembered it: so soft, subtle, and sweet. The High Lord could see the agony on his brother’s face and how his eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or mourning?

Azriel could have died in that moment. There was no way to say he didn’t miss her, because he missed her to his bones. His heart ached as if a dagger had pierced it. The sound of her laughter reached his ears. The melody had changed; it was no longer loud and full of life. It was all his fault. He should have been there with her and not with Liria. He had made a mistake, and his error would cost him his entire life.

“What did you come for?” Rhys asked, cutting through the thread of his thoughts.

“To deliver the reports,” Azriel muttered in a hoarse voice.

His brother let him into the house, and as he walked down the entryway, he saw the huge vase with strange figures that they had given Feyre for her birthday two years ago. It had been brought specially from the Winter Court, a trip they had taken together. He could still hear her voice with feigned annoyance telling him to be careful not to break it. The memory struck him like a stab to the heart. He arrived in the living room just as Y/N delivered the worst news he could have heard.

“I’m going to the Dawn Court. I’ll be away for at least a month,” she told her friends.

“No,” Azriel whispered with a broken voice. “You can’t go,” he shouted, alerting everyone to his presence. His shadows separated from him and approached her.

The fairy shuddered at the contact of the shadows on her skin. She hadn’t expected him to show up. Azriel saw the smile of his beloved falter the moment their eyes met. Her face grew somber, sad, and he wished that Prythian would swallow him whole at that damned moment.

Silence fell over the room. Everyone was tense from the unexpected arrival of the Shadow Singer.

Cassian was the first to break the silence.

“Az, we weren’t expecting you,” he muttered through gritted teeth, angry at the situation. His wings flared, ready to defend Y/N if necessary.

Azriel ignored him as he crossed the room to where Y/N was sitting. She stood up instinctively, wanting to flee, just wanting to forget him for a while. It wasn’t fair. The moment he reached her, he took her in his arms and began to cry.

“Y/N, darling, please don’t go. Forgive me,” Azriel whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t move. Her breathing became ragged, her throat tightened trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to surface. She swallowed hard to clear the knot that had settled in. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Let me go,” she whispered back. “Don’t touch me, Azriel,” she shouted, disappointed.

He continued holding her close, and she squirmed in his arms, pushing him as far away as possible. Where she had once felt safe, now she felt suffocated. When they were a few centimeters apart, she saw his clothes; it was one of the garments she had made for him, and it carried a scent that wasn’t his. Her heart sank to her stomach.

“I know you’re angry, please, listen to me. I know it was wrong, and I’m deeply sorry,” the Shadow Singer pleaded, as he moved his hands to her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back, to make you believe in me. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, just say it,” he begged again, this time on his knees, holding her hands and kissing them.

“And what will you do?” she laughed sarcastically. “Will you promise that you won’t hurt me again?” she continued, with her fists clenched. “You hurt me, Azriel, and you didn’t care. While you were sticking your tongue in another woman’s mouth, I was at home, waiting, begging for you not to be hurt and to come back to our home safe,” she hissed with pain, as her gaze met his. “I would have ripped out my heart for you, no matter the reason, but I know you wouldn’t do the same for me,” she went on. “Do you know what I want?” she murmured.

Azriel had red eyes as she spoke. He remained on his knees, crying for the pain he had caused, and although he had a sliver of hope, it vanished the moment her eyes met his. There was no way to repair the damage. Her eyes, which had once looked at him with love, with the kindness and softness of a feather, with the adoration he didn’t believe he deserved from her, now looked at him with the coldest gaze, disappointment swimming in them, and sadness clinging to them. He didn’t even need to answer; nothing would heal her heart.

“I want my heart to stop bleeding, I wish it would stop singing your name,” she whimpered. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “But I wish it wasn’t you who nearly ripped it out of my chest,” she said, collapsing to the floor, hugging herself.

Azriel, who was closer, didn’t even have the chance to reach her in time. Instead, it was Cassian who appeared to hold her against his chest, crying like he had never heard her do before. His shadows tried to calm her as they once did when she was scared. Even they were there for her.

Cass, his brother, was the one holding her in his arms, against his chest, and Azriel wanted to tear her away, but he had no right.

“It’s best if you leave,” the general said through clenched teeth to Azriel.

His voice, filled with pain and disappointment, had never spoken to him like this in the centuries they had been together. Azriel understood. Y/N had developed a relationship with him, supporting each other, and he also knew that Cassian would never have done this to her.

A hand rested on the spy’s shoulder. He looked up and met the violet gaze of Rhys, his other brother, and the eyes of the rest of the people he considered family, who were in the dining room; they had left them alone a while ago.

The weight of his decision was on his shoulders, in his heart, and in his soul. His brother was indicating that he should get up, but Azriel's ears were ringing; he heard it from a distance. He didn’t know when he got to his feet. Rhys guided him to his office. The reports had been forgotten on the floor of the living room. But he decided he couldn’t stay there, not while he could hear her muffled sobs. So he left the house and went to the only place left for him.

The door opened. Liria entered; it was night, and she found Azriel slumped on the sofa, in the darkness. She could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he was asleep. In his dreams, Y/N’s muffled cries tormented him.

The blonde approached to comfort him. She grabbed the blanket from the sofa across from him but stopped inches from his body when the scent hit her. A scent she had noticed on him when she first met him, which she had discovered belonged to someone else soon after. But still, she continued; he was her partner, their souls were bound.

If “I love you” were a promise, would it be broken if they were honest?

The next morning, Azriel woke up to the sound of clashing weapons. He got up from the sofa, rubbing his face with his hand, and saw Liria in the hallway, where the noise was coming from. The woman could feel her partner’s gaze, so she turned around.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she greeted him.

“What are you doing? Why the suitcase?” the dark-haired man asked.

“I’m leaving,” she replied vaguely, turning back to continue packing her weapons.

“I don’t want the bond,” the spymaster's words slipped out.

“I know,” Lyria said. “Don’t forget that I can feel your emotions through the bond,” she reminded him, seeing his look of confusion. “Last night, you were murmuring her name and how much you love her,” she revealed in a hoarse voice.

Her mate passed by him, perhaps gathering the last of her belongings. He could only watch; he thought it would hurt, but it didn’t.

“Two days ago, I found a small box,” Lyria continued. “By the way, nice ring. She would have liked it,” she confessed.

Azriel tensed at the mention of the object. He remembered having carefully hidden that ring, a proposal ring for Y/N. Before meeting Lyria, he had been planning to propose marriage; the only ones who knew were Rhys and Cassian. He had ruined everything.

“How did you find it?” he finally looked at her.

“I made a mistake with you, with us, Azriel,” she evaded his question. “I wish I hadn’t left,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want the bond, I reject it,” she said finally.

They had heard stories that if someone rejected the bond, they would die. But the bond cooled on both sides and neither of them died. The rejection of the bond didn’t hurt as much as Azriel’s soul ached from having left his girlfriend. It didn’t tear his skin as it did that day when he saw her cry. He didn’t wish for Prythian to swallow him for the rejection.

“I’m sorry, Lyria.”

The decisions of the two had brought them to this point: bringing together two people with the same energy could make them implode. And they understood it too late.

“I’m sorrier for us,” was the last thing she said before leaving through the door.

Although they both had hope, dreams, goals, loves, friendships, and families, they had all shattered.

The journey to the Dawn Court was supposed to last only a month. Thesan, the high lord of the court, had requested in the letter that she be the one to make his tunic for the most special day of his immortal life and that of his lover.

She had done it. That was five years ago.

The rays of the sun filtered through the white curtains, reflecting the face of her beloved, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. He, with brown hair, had his arms wrapped around Y/N, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. And so it was.

A few years ago, Y/N left the Night Court for the Dawn Court. Her small boutique in her friend's court was left in Mei's capable hands; she trusted Mei to run it and might soon give it to her as a birthday gift. During her time in the Court of Sun Rays, she opened a new boutique, where she currently works, although she designed for both. Mei handled most of the workload at the boutique on the other side.

During that time, Azriel never stopped sending her letters, flowers, and her favorite things to reach out to her, always without success. Until one day, she responded to one of his thousands of letters, where he kept apologizing, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

Darius and T/N were at the market, doing their shopping, holding hands, stealing kisses from time to time, and joking around. She had met him when she arrived at the court, with her heart still in pieces. He was a warrior of Thesan's royal guard. They became friends, then started flirting, soon became a couple, and now were married. He was always patient with her; her heart wasn’t ready at that time, but every time she spent time with him, the pieces came back together. He had also had his heart broken a few months before they met, so they understood and supported each other, respecting each other’s pain.

Darius loved his wife so much that he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tear apart anyone who decided to hurt her. Anyone who made her shed a tear would find their own heart ripped out before causing her any pain.

Liria and Azriel were not exempt from sharing work. They had a court to protect and a high lord to respond to. Both were in the Dawn Court, searching for new leads on a minor commotion.

Azriel managed to distinguish a woman's hair. He walked, trying to get as close as possible to her to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him, that it was indeed her, the woman he loved.

And even though she had told him she wanted nothing to do with him, he was unwilling to stop searching for her. So, when he confirmed that it was Y/N, the air escaped his lungs. At a respectful distance, he saw Y/N holding hands with a man, a warrior. But what struck him most was the bulging belly against which the woman rested her hand, adorned with a wedding band and the engagement ring. The love of his life had found her mate, was starting a family, and it would not be with him, as he had dreamed many times. Azriel would not be the father of her children. He had not been chosen, and he never would be, just as he had not chosen her first.

Liria watched the scene with the same sadness. On the day her bond with Azriel was broken, Darius, with whom she had shared a century of her life, had proposed to her. She had no doubt that he loved her deeply. However, she had rejected him and now bitterly regretted it. She knew she could have been the one to receive those tender kisses and those looks overflowing with love. Liria deeply regretted ending her relationship with Darius for Azriel and losing the chance to be his wife.

Such is the smallness of the world. The people they had hurt ended up finding each other to make each other happy and complete, like puzzle pieces that belong together.

Azriel had nothing more to offer. He never had a right, and he realized that his fear of not deserving Y/N's affection had come true. He did not deserve her, and he would carry that weight throughout his existence.

And if dreams were to come true, they would have been the ones.

The sun shone and embraced Y/N. Darkness dragged Azriel into the depths.

Tags: @janebirkln @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @blessthepizzaman @rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch

@nikt-wazny-y @oceandiors @whosmys

Guys, it won't let me tag everyone, I hope you can read it.

I red them!

[revasserium]

hi! I've been reading your opla!zoro stuff and I wanted to tell you your writing is so gorgeous! it's truly breathtaking, you're really talented ❤️ i've looked through your prompts tag, im not sure how requesting works, but could I ask for "edge of falling" or "the spaces between us" (whichever one you like the most) with zoro and fem!reader? i'm a goner for longing and feelings realization and the prompts give me those vibes, but i'm sure anything you write will be lovely <3

reqs are open!

the edge of falling

opla!zoro; 7,475 words; fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, passing mentions of: cult!, physical violence, & trauma/cult-programming, ex-cult member!reader, strawhat!reader, traumatized!reader, protective!zoro, healing from past trauma, learning to trust etc, angst with a happy ending!, a metric TON of plot

summary: "Lie to me," Time said to Love; Love smiled and said, "I promise, I'll never let you slip away."

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! i uhm idk what happened with this fic tbh. there's def uh -- longing of SOME kind here??? welp. pls read the tw list! there's some dark-ish content in this. but i promise it ends well u__u

prelude: in which a fox teaches you to speak

Time is the greatest liar, so you are told, over and over and over. For the longest time, you think it’s the only truth you’ll ever know.

But we will live forever…

So long as you do the things you’re told. So long as you make the Fox happy. So long, so long, so long.

There is no way to mark the passage of time in the compound; with no sunlight to guide the way, you are left to other, more primal ways of keeping track — that elusive, silver-fish creature — time — always slipping through your fingers when want to hold on most.

You measure it in wounds, in the time it takes for a fresh wound to seal over, for the scab to break and reveal the soft, tender pink flesh beneath. You measure it in gulps of water, in bites of cold food, in the droplets of artificial rain that they let fall through the ceiling sometimes. You measure it in rewards too, in long baths and hot meals, in the evenings when the Fox would tell you stories in his low, lilting voice instead of leaving you in his seething silences.

And he is ever so good with stories. If you stay still and keep quiet, and let his voice wash over you like a hungry tide across a rain-starved beach, you can feel the words seeping into your bones, ringing out till they feel like nothing but god’s given truth.

As long as you’re good… I promise I’ll make you live forever.

Like this, you learn the weapon of words, the power of speech, how to listen for lies, and how to tell them, and tell them, and tell them.

The Fox is good at lying; you’ll just have to learn to be better.

act i: yet another sad, desperate soul

Roronoa Zoro has never been a man of many words, but it would be remiss to say that he isn’t a man of his word — you see, when he does speak, he speaks with intention. And always, with conviction.

“Hey. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, then, is the first lie he tells you.

“Liar.” You spit out the word, drawing back, your body a tangle of livewire nerves, your eyes darting back and forth, an entire life’s worth of fight and flight caught on the hair-pin trigger of his breath as he jolts back slightly and blinks at you.

“Y-you — you can’t know that,” you say, your voice still ragged. But Zoro sees it for the attempt it is — an olive branch, however tentatively extended. And he takes it, wordlessly.

He nods once, reaching out to help you up. The compound crumbles around you, and you unconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, as if to hold yourself together, to keep from shattering into a hundred million tiny little shards of pain and mistrust.

“The fox-guy’s dead! But it looks like this whole island’s gonna blow!” Nami races out of the massive, temple-esque structure just as it starts to collapse from the inside out.

Luffy slingshots passed, cackling as Sanji and Usopp bring up the rear. On the Merry, Robin and Chopper are waiting, and the second Zoro manages to hoist you onto the main deck, the ship careens off into the dark tumult of waves.

You skitter away the minute Zoro’s arm slips from around your waist, and he turns to find you pressing yourself back against the railings, staring at them all with wide eyes, your expression caught halfway between fear and consternation. He takes half a step back, crossing his arms just as Luffy bounds forward with a bright, unassuming smile.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” He makes to slap one of your shoulders but you duck out of the way, chewing on your bottom lip.

Robin clears her throat gently and offers you a smile, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze darting between them like a trapped animal, but after another beat of stillness (punctuated only by Nami swearing softly to herself as she steers the Merry around a particularly difficult formation of rocks), your entire body seems to soften, and Zoro uncrosses his arms again, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his blades.

“Th-thank you…” you bob your head once, swallowing hard passed chapped lips and a raw throat. Your white linen dress is stained with blood and dirt, a tear at your collar making it slip from your shoulder.

“’S alright now, darlin’ — how bout we run you a nice, hot bath? I could cook you just about anything y’like. Fancy a drink as well? I think a bubbly would be good for a —”

“Lay off, cook.” Zoro cuts Sanji off with a scoff, barring Sanji’s approach with an arm in the gut.

You watch them with dark eyes, your expression curiously blank.

“Will you let me look at your wounds?” Chopper offers.

You jump a little at his voice, piping up from your left side. You glance at Zoro once before looking back at Chopper and nodding.

Sanji tucks his hands into his pockets and watches as Chopper leads you beneath the deck, Zoro following a few steps behind. He lights a cigarette as soon as the trap door clanks shut.

A beat of silence, and then —

“Wow, that island really, really sucked!” Luffy says, turning back to his crew.

Sanji lets out a puff of smoke as Usopp slumps down against the main mast with a groan.

“You can say that again.”

“What happened?” Robin asks.

Sanji sighs, shaking his head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Below deck, Chopper dabs at your wounds with expert ease as you sit very still on the kitchen island and Zoro watches from the sofa, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“These surface wounds aren’t that bad but…” Chopper trails off, his eyes running over the network of old scars that mar your skin, layers and layers of them — down your arms and along your torso.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice smooth as polished marble, “I’m —” you swallow, “I’m fine.”

And if it weren’t for the hiccup, the slight hitch in your breath, you would’ve been utterly convincing. Your expression is flat, your voice, even more so.

Across the room, Zoro makes disbelieving noise, “If it hurts, just say so. Chopper’ll fix it.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you say again, tugging at the sleeve of your torn shift, your tone now a bit more honest, your words tired and resigned. Zoro looks to Chopper, who gives a faint nod of acquiescence before Zoro stands up and jerks his head towards the door.

“Cook’s right — you should wash up before dinner.”

You follow him down the hallway, through a small door that leads into a washroom that’s much cleaner than one might expect a ship’s bathroom to be. A large, wooden soaking tub sits in the middle of the room, and a clean change of clothes has already been laid out on a bench next to the bath.

Zoro grunts after he takes a once-over of the room, satisfied that all’s in order, and makes to leave.

You tug at his sleeve, head lowered.

“Can you…” you lick your lips, “can you stay?”

Zoro glances down at your fingers curled into his shirt sleeve before his eyes flick up to find your face. You’re looking at some indiscriminate point over his left shoulder, but your lips are trembling and your jaw is set.

He lets out a long breath, slowly twisting his body towards the room and you.

“Sure.”

He makes a show of turning around to face the door as you slip off your clothes and sink into the steaming bath water. A long exhale and the light slosh of water is all the indication he gets that it’s safe to turn back around.

He leans himself against the door, his swords propped on his shoulder, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

He listens to the soft sounds of the water, to the faint splashes as you rub the grit and grime from your skin, inch by inch.

“We were only allowed to bathe as a reward for doing a good deed.”

Your voice makes him open his eyes, his gaze focusing in on the shape of you, nearly submerged in the bathtub, your hair slick and sticking to your pale shoulders. Even in this dim lighting, he can see the patterns your scars make against your skin. Water glimmers along the contours of your face as you run your palms along your cheeks, rubbing at them till they’re ruddy with color.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Quit bein’ so rough,” he moves forward without thinking, reaching out a hand to help you with some of the more stubborn pieces of dirt but he pauses, realizing how utterly still you’ve gone.

You stare at him for a long moment before relaxing back into the water and shifting towards the edge of the tub to allow him better access.

He runs a callused thumb along your cheekbones, wiping away the remaining dirt there.

“What was a ‘good deed’?” he asks, letting the tips of his fingers skim the warm water’s surface.

You shrug, “Mostly anything that made Mr. Fox happy… so all of us would —” you take another breath, your hand opening and closing beneath the surface of the still bath water, “we’d spend all our waking hours trying to think of something — anything — that’d please him. No matter how small… no matter how… terrible.”

“This Mr. Fox… what was his deal, anyway?”

You stare down into the dark water, now rapidly cooling from warm to lukewarm.

You take a deep breath, lifting a hand out of the water to distort the image of your ghostly reflection.

“He… was a liar. Except… he could make all his lies sound like the truth.”

“It was uncanny, really,” Sanji says, now at full throttle in the kitchen prepping for dinner service, Usopp lounging on sofa, his feet propped up on the hanging table.

Chopper and Robin both frown.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks.

“It was like… the guy could say anything and make it sound like the truth — even though you knew somewhere inside you that it can’t be real. Like — he could tell you the sky was green and every single part of you would believe him, even though you’re outside and starin’ up at the sky.”

“Yeah! Like he said I’d never be able to beat him and… for a second, I kinda almost believed him!” Luffy offers, munching on a bushel of apples and spitting out the seeds.

Robin’s brows furrow, tapping at her chin with a thin finger.

“It sounds like the Uso-Uso no Mi…”

“Ugh, what a weird, scary power…” Chopper shudders, shaking his head, his tiny hooved hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I’m sure it’d mess with people’s heads!”

“It sure did. But he also used it to feed false information to the Marines,” Nami says, slipping through the half-opened door to join the rest of the crew on the sofa, “ran a series of taverns that just so happened to be situated in major Marine towns.”

Sanji glances up from a huge, steaming pan of paella, a cigarette caught between his teeth.

“So what was his end goal then? Just to fuck over the Marines?”

Back in the bathroom, you run your fingers along the edge of the tub as if playing an invisible piano.

“Power, domination… I don’t think he had a goal or purpose… I think… he just got off on it…”

Your voice is light, conversational, almost as if you were talking about the weather. But Zoro sees the glazed look in your eyes, the tightness at the edges of your lips.

“You called me a liar,” he says, reaching into the tub and flicking you lightly with a bit of water.

You blink, a smile threatening the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He pulls out his hand and wipes it on a towel, leaning back to stare at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes… people lie to others, and sometimes, people lie to themselves. It’s the ones we tell ourselves that are always the most convincing.”

“I don’t lie. ‘Specially not to myself.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “But I guess… sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough… it’ll just start to be come the truth.”

There’s a note of… something in your voice that Zoro doesn’t like, but he can’t put a name to the feeling so he stays quiet as you continue the laborious work of scrubbing your skin clean, till all the water in the tub’s gone cold.

The rest of the evening passes as most evenings on the Merry do after a big fight — with a lot of food and even more booze. With music and laughter, and new crew member, sitting in the corner, watching mostly and smiling occasionally. No one pushes you, though Sanji does make a valiant effort in getting you to admit to your favorite foods, and Luffy tries two or three times to drag you into the more raucous celebrations (mostly involving way too much meat being roasted on a spike).

No one questions the way Zoro never wanders too far.

No one questions the way your eyes track him around the room, or how, even when Robin and Nami finally get a laugh out of you, you still instinctively searched for Zoro’s figure till you’ve found it in the other corner, a bottle caught between his lips, his eyes half-shut but his gaze caught on you like a fish to a seaman’s hook.

act ii: everything and nothing

A week passes, and then another. And you slowly, but surely, come out of your shell — it’s a strange sort of blossoming, the way you reveal yourself in shards and pieces, jagged and jarring. The shrapnel bits of your personality peaking out amidst the flotsam and jetsam of all your manifold defense mechanisms.

You’re a brilliant liar, but even better at spotting a lie, and it’s a thing that none of the crew had ever really thought about until you’d come along, casually poking holes in their daily deceits.

“Mm! These pancakes are perfect! Just the way I like them!”

“The new dress looks beautiful, Nami.”

“I absolutely did not finish the last bag of popcorn… Luffy did it!”

You clear your throat.

“Okay fine… the pancakes were really good but… but I like them… sweeter.”

“The dress is… well, everything looks gorgeous on you, of course, you know that Nami! But — the color… clashes just a tiny little bit with your… hair.”

“I might’ve uh… taken a few bites out of the popcorn bag… last night… but I was keeping watch and I needed to keep my energy up!”

Robin titters, a sphinx-like smile spreading across her lips.

“Apparently, 60% of people lie at least once every 10 minutes,” she says, casually taking a sip of orange juice as Zoro runs through his daily training regime, seemingly unbothered by the chaos currently taking place on the main deck regarding the “popcorn incident”.

“Dunno why people bother,” Zoro says, working through a set of single-armed burpees.

“I suppose it’s just human nature. We want other people to like us… so we say what we think they might want to hear, instead of what we really think. It’s harmless, mostly,” Robin remarks, leaning back against a white planter box, basking in the shade of the tangerine trees.

“Till it isn’t,” Zoro says, finishing up his workout and pushing himself up for a long stretch. He casts his eyes once more towards where you’re now laughing as Usopp tries to think of some new tall tale to tell.

It only takes you half a second to turn your head, and Zoro wonders at the kind of life you might’ve led to make you so sensitive to another person’s gaze. What must’ve happened to warrant this kind of alertness? But then again, he’d been a hunter long enough to know exactly what being hunted looks like.

He caught a glimpse of it at the compound but — still, his fingers itch toward his swords, his jaw clenches tight enough for Robin to cock her head and raise a brow.

“Yes… until it isn’t…” she echoes, her eyes also trailing towards you.

Zoro holds your gaze for a second before rolling his shoulders and looking away, squinting at the far horizon.

“Oi. Looks like trouble.”

Robin straightens, and a second later, Chopper sounds the alarm from the crow’s nest.

“Marines! Marines!”

There is the shink of swords being drawn, the gentle echo of Robin’s voice as her arms multiply. There’s canon fire and a lot of yelling. But at the end, there’s only bodies and blood and the tattered remains of the Marine’s ship, bobbing in the stained sea below them.

“Should we go after them?” Sanji asks, lighting up a cig, watching as the tiny emergency boat rows off into the distance.

“Nah. We’ll be alright!” Luffy says, wiping a hand across his nose.

Zoro turns towards you, sheathing his swords.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice immediately taking on an unctuous sheen that makes Zoro take a step closer.

“You hurt anywhere?” he runs an appraising eye down your form and nods in the knowledge that at least you don’t look hurt.

“No… I —” you chew down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your arms. But you back away from him the moment he tries to take a step forward.

“Hey — quit that,” he taps at your wrist with the hilt of his sword, the touch hard but not harsh, forcing you to pull away.

“It’s — I’m — I’m alright,” you say, insistent and mollifying. Zoro runs his thumb against the hilt of his blades and scoffs.

“Liar,” he says, tossing the word casually back at you in a way that makes your breath hitch. Then, he turns, and marches below decks to tend to his own wounds.

A deafening silence rings out around you as you stare down at the ships blood-drenched planks before Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon now — lets get your back looked at.”

Below decks, you find Zoro dabbing gingerly at a large slash on his right arm.

“Here, you’ve missed a spot —” you reach out to take the iodine soaked cloth from Zoro’s hand, only to have him jerk away. You flinch back, wide-eyed.

Zoro softens, if only ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice as he goes back to trying to twist around himself enough to see the spot he’s missed. You purse your lips, watching him for a second, two seconds, three — before you glance back at the place Robin had been only to realize that she’d gone.

“May… I?” you reach out your hand, palm up, tentative and imploring. But you hold yourself still, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. And he does, eventually, sighing as he turns back around to drop the piece of cloth into your palm.

You reach forward as he turns to his side, offering up his arm as you slowly start to wipe away at the bits of dried blood caking his skin to reveal the raw, red gash, the angry, raised flesh around it. You lean forward, blowing slightly as you daub at the wound, making your way down his bicep till the entire cut’s been coated in iodine.

“There. All done.”

You lean back to toss the cloth into the sink but Zoro stops you. He catches your wrist in his good hand and with a slight tug, has you toppling forward towards his chest.

“Turn around.”

His voice is soft, but firm. And it leaves no room for protests as you stare at him for a long moment before sighing and resigning yourself to your fate. You turn to show him your back.

A disgruntled huff is all you get before you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro rummaging around the first aide kit for a fresh piece of cloth, and the pop of the iodine bottle opening again.

“Who did this?” he asks as he slowly reaches out to tug a thin spike from your skin, small as a needle and just as sharp. You bite back a wince.

“The porcupine guy…” your voice trails off as Zoro grunts.

“Right.”

He tugs out another spike; it tinks against the metal of the sink as he tosses it away. A brief sting, and then the cooling feeling of the iodine cloth.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zoro sighs.

“Geez, he really got you bad, didn’t he?”

“Not really,” you say, and you feel Zoro’s hands pause.

“No?”

You shake your head, “I’ve… been through much worse… and lived to tell the tale so…”

Zoro doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re talking about your past on the island, inside that windowless compound. He can see it in the scars that mar nearly the entirety of your back, the criss-cross lines of what looks like knife-wounds, the occasional puckered marks that look suspiciously like burns. He steels himself then, and continues to work — plucking out a spike and cleaning out the wound.

“You were right,” he says, when he finally finishes cleaning up your back and you both straighten to face each other. He wipes his hands clean and winces slightly as he flexes his newly bandaged arm.

“Right about what?” your voice is innocent, but the flash in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“That first day — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… make sure that no one ever hurt you again.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides and you can see the muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

You reach out, tracing a thumb along his jawline. When you pull back, there’s a small daub of blood on your finger and you wipe it away without breaking his gaze.

“No, you couldn’t but… you tried.”

Zoro scoffs, “Tryin’s not good enough.”

“No,” you jerk up to glare at him, your voice harsh in a way that he’s only ever heard right after they’d rescued you, the edges of your words raw and ragged as a serrated blade, “trying is everything.”

interlude: truth or dare

It gets better after that, and you grow and bloom and grow some more. Zoro does too, though in his own way — he gets stronger, gets faster, hits harder. And though you two never quite agree on anything, he is always by your side, and you’re somehow always by his.

“’M not even a lil drunk —”

“Liar~” you singsong, giggling as Zoro shakes his head, tipping the remains of a bottle of sake back down his throat before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mm… ‘s that all I am to you? Just another guy who lies?” Zoro swings lazily on the hammock hung on the main deck, his eyes half-lidded and alight with the dancing firelight.

“Stupid question — drink,” you answer, bringing our own bottle up to your lips.

Zoro laughs, quiet and pleased as he reaches for a new bottle.

“Alright then — truth or dare?” he asks, uncorking the new bottle and reaching out to offer you some. You bat him away, your movements languid and heavy, your back pressed against a heavy wooden barrel, one leg propped up to support your arm, the other stretched out long and lithe in front of you.

“Truth,” you say, your voice easy, your smile even more so.

“Alright then — do you trust me?” Zoro’s voice dips, and your eyes flash up. There’s a sobering light somewhere behind the alcohol soaked haze clouding his gaze and you can tell by the steadiness of his hands that he’s not nearly as drunk as he might seem.

“What do you mean?” you ask, casually evading the question.

Zoro tuts, “’S not an answer.”

“I’m asking for a clarification.”

Zoro shakes his head, taking another soft swig, “Simple question — do you trust me?”

You purse your lips, mulling over the myriad answers you could provide and make it sound like the truth. But that’s not really how the game goes. So instead, you take a deep breath.

“I — I want to,” and it’s the way your voice breaks that makes it honest, the way you can’t hold the truth in by the seams of your careful cadence, no matter how hard you try to smooth out the ragged edges.

“So… that’s a no,” Zoro says, keeping his tone even. You can’t help reaching for him — imploring.

“Not yet but —”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“I guess…” Zoro leans back, casting his eyes up at the wild, dark sky, careening above the ship in an ecstatic spread of stars and, long sinuous, moon-silvered clouds, “why d’you want to trust me? Doesn’t seem like something you’d be eager to do after… y’know, everything.”

You lick your lips and stare into the empty bottom of your glass.

“Honestly?” you say, “because you’re kind of a shit liar —”

Zoro lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

“But… also because you’re the only person I’ve met who… who treats words so carefully — I mean…” you swallow, leaning forward slightly as Zoro drops his gaze back down to you, “it’s like — my whole life has just been people saying things they don’t really mean, and never meaning what they say, and then trying to figure out what’s really happening — trying to say the right thing, not the thing you mean but the thing you think they’d want to hear —” your breath quickens, “and — and if you don’t or if you’re bad at it, then bad things happen to you and the people you care about —”

“Hey.”

A hand presses down on your shoulder and you gasp, your breath knifing through your chest as you clasp your shaking hands to your sternum.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

You nod, unable to say anything as Zoro sits in front of you, his hand like an anchor in a summer storm, keeping you tethered.

You breathe and take stock of your limbs — feet, legs, hands, arms. It’s then that you realize Zoro’s crouching in front of you, your drink glass resting by his side.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding as he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before pulling away. Physical touch has never been one of your strong points, and it seems Zoro’s learned that without you ever having to tell him.

It’s strange — the sudden knowledge that somehow, his understanding of you has been wordless and implicit. Complete, from nearly the day the Straw Hats had picked you up on that island. You’d never had to explain, never had to draw your boundaries.

And yet somehow, he knew. As if he’d always just known.

“Truth or dare?” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper, shifting to make more space for him on the dark deck of the ship’s forecastle. Zoro sits down in front of you, crossing his legs.

“Dare.”

You don’t fight the grin as it lifts the side of your lips.

The quiet pulses between the pair of you like a heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Zoro’s grin lilts to mirror your own.

“Any secret,” you say, “something you… something you wouldn’t otherwise say out loud.”

“Isn’t that what a secret’s supposed to be? Something you don’t say?”

You laugh, tasting the sound like a mouthful of champagne, bubbling up through you and spiraling towards the endless summer’s night.

“Quit stalling!”

“Think I wanna kiss you.”

A gasp slices through the air between you. You feel the weight of it in your throat, the white-hot flicker of his gaze as he glances down at your lips. You wet them without thinking, and as Zoro lean’s in, you can sense the night around you slowly coalescing into something warm, something solid. Like a marble clutched in a child’s palm, or a pearl held on an oyster’s velvet tongue.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

He stops just short of your lips, his nose almost grazing yours. You can nearly taste the sweet sake on his breath —

“Dare.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter and for a second, an eternity revolves in the space between your heartbeats. Faintly, you register the gentle rocking of the ship as an indolent wave catches her starboard side.

You close your eyes.

For a second, there is space. For a second, there is breath. For a second, there is gravity. And then — all of that disappears. All of it eclipsed by the kiss. And then, the kiss is all there is.

All there was, and ever will be.

There’s a graze of fingers against skin, the bump of legs against legs against thighs against knees — there’s knuckles and noses and hair falling, hair being tugged into closing fists. There’s the clink-clink-clink of earrings, and the clatter-clap-clat of swords and hilts and rough, wooden planks.

There’s the dull thunk and baseline rumble of a glass being knocked over and rolling away.

But all of that is afterthought. All of that is supplement, a postscript, marginalia and footnotes.

Because there, then — there is only the kiss, and nothing but the kiss: a catastrophe of inevitability, smooth as a secret, and whisper-sweet.

When the pair of you pull away, there’s a chaos of wings against your ribcage.

There’s the honeyed, lambent light in Zoro’s eyes as he grins down at you.

“Truth — or dare,” a breathless gasp punctuates your words.

Zoro’s grin only grows as he tips your chin back between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dare.”

It’s only then that you realize his cheeks are wine-flushed, his chest rising and falling nearly as fast as yours. You swallow slow and track his eyes as he watches the pale bob of your throat.

“Kiss me again.”

act iii: fool’s gold

It takes all of three hours for Sanji to get something out of Zoro, and three days before Robin and Nami manage to wheedle something out of you.

“No seriously! Things have been different since that one party we had —” Nami presses her palm to the kitchen table, here eyes wide. Robin sits on the couch, her expression one of mixed amusement and near academic interest.

“Different how?” you reach into the cookie jar and fish out a crumbled corner of what used to be a double chocolate chip cookie.

“Ugh! You know what I mean!” Nami turns to Robin, motioning towards you, “Help me here!”

Robin laughs, tossing up a graceful hand, “I suppose something does seem… changed.”

“Something?” you ask, licking at a smudge of chocolate on your thumb.

“Well…” Robin says, drawing out the syllable and making to examine the nails on her long, thin fingers, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You allow yourself a smile, “Something’s definitely not nothing.”

Nami lets out a frustrated groan, but she’s smiling too.

It’s been long enough that you’d learned to relax around them, and you’d since also learned that nothing is so sacred as the sanctity of sisterhood. That bonds between friends might be forged in fire and brimstone, but bonds between women are forged in cinder and smoke — in the wreckage of after, when the fighting’s been done and all that’s left is the mending.

“What’s all this giggling about?” Zoro ducks into the half-ajar door, staring at the three of you.

Nami cocks an eyebrow; Robin shrugs.

You, for your part, smile and bat your lashes.

“Oh nothing,” you say.

“Just girl-talk,” offers Nami.

“Nothing to interest a legendary swordsman like yourself,” Robin polishes off.

Zoro’s eyes narrow, his gaze jumping between the three of you before it lands on you and he scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re docking soon.”

And that’s all he offers before sauntering back out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears as he hurries away.

You give it a beat of three seconds before pushing to your feet and following after, humming to yourself. Behind you, Nami and Robin share a knowing look.

“Definitely not nothing,” Robin says as she stands to follow you.

The island, if it can even be called that, is nothing more than a rough conglomeration of steep cliffs strapped together by a thin band of land barely wide enough to be categorized as a beach.

“Well! This is something!” Luffy declares, his arms akimbo on his hips as he stares at the island.

“Yeah… it’s uh… something for sure,” Usopp agrees, making a face as he squints at the cluster of rocks that look more like the jagged edges of a broken bottle than any kind of proper land formation.

“We’ll just anchor here for the night… get some good rest, and then...” Sanji’s words trail off, interrupted by a ghostly wail that rises from the gathering of dark cliffs, turning them into an echo chamber until it seems to rumble through the sand beneath them.

“… gold, all gold! — no, not a liar — please!”

A shiver etches itself up your spine and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself.

Zoro steps out in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever might come. His thumb presses against the hilt of his swords, his shoulders tense as corded wire.

“Uh… everyone else heard that too, right?” Chopper asks, peaking out from around Robin’s legs.

“Yep. Definitely not just you,” Sanji confirms.

Luffy grins, “Seems like there’s someone else on this island! Maybe they can show us around!”

Time passes by strangely on the island — one minute, the sun is still hanging low on the far horizon, and the next, the sky is the color of a bullet wound, darkness seeping in around the horizon.

“Whoever’s here on the island — they sure aren’t making it — easy —” Sanji grunts as he hoists himself up a slippery piece of rock face, sweat glistening on his forehead as he squints into the looming blackness.

“Luffy? You sure you know where we’re going?” Nami shouts, her voice ringing back in a way that makes everyone wince and cover their ears.

Zoro grabs your elbow a second before you slip, fingers digging into your flesh even as you steady yourself against him.

“Sorry — thanks,” you say, unsure of which one you really mean.

“Yeah! I can smell something — like a campfire! And… cooking!” Luffy’s voice calls back from somewhere in the gathering dark. Everyone shares a glance before bracing themselves and trudging on.

By the time you all catch up to Luffy, no one is certain of what time it is, only that it’s dark. But the kind of darkness that seems to cling to the skin — a darkness so dense it starts to take on shape and weight.

It presses in around you and you feel your breaths shortening in your chest.

Beside you, Zoro reaches out to brace a hand at the small of your back.

“Oh! I see a light ahead! C’mon!” Luffy’s voice rings out from somewhere up ahead, followed by the patter of sandals on stone. The rest of you follow, and then all too suddenly, light flickers to life in what seems to be a huge, subterranean cave deep within the cliffs of the island. It casts stark shadows against the slick, cavernous walls.

You frown, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs.

But before you have time to dwell on the wrongness of something there, Luffy’s voice snags your attention like a thread on an errant splinter.

“Hi! Oh, wow — that looks delicious!”

You turn a corner to find Luffy hunkering down over a blazing campfire and the silhouette of someone sitting opposite him, a sharp spike held out in front of them, turning slowly over the flickering flames.

“Oh… please… come join me — sit and listen to a story — I have so many stories — so many adventures to share!” the figure across the fire seems to quiver with the dancing flames, his voice filling up the whole of the cave, loud and boisterous and eager. But strange and hollow too.

You frown, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

Ahead of you, Usopp and Chopper both take tentative seats next to Luffy, who had cheerfully plopped down next to the fire.

“Wow, this looks great! Are you here by yourself? I’m here with my crew! Are you a pirate too?” Luffy asks, his endless enthusiasm pouring from him like a spring.

Robin, Nami, and Sanji all hold back, but you take a step forward, and then another. Something compelling you towards the voice, pulling you closer. There’s a desperation, a loneliness with which you’re all too familiar — you inch closer, and then closer, till you’re almost level with Luffy, and you lower yourself to the ground next to him, Zoro dropping down beside you, his knee pressing against your leg in a silent reassurance.

“Come… come closer! It’s a good story — I promise!”

“Truth,” you mutter, just beneath your breath. Beside you, Zoro lets out a puff of breath, though his stance doesn’t loosen.

Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of the rest of the crew drawing just a step closer.

“Once upon a time… there was a city on an island where everything, and I mean everything was made of gold!”

The figure across the fire sounds cheered, elated even. Behind you, you feel Nami take half a step closer. Cold seeps into your veins despite the warm, dancing flames, and your fingers dig into the hard packed earth beneath you.

“I found it — I did! With my crew — the best sailors and seamen around! But the king… he was greedy! And he wanted his own men to take the treasures, so he forced me to lead them to the city again —”

“Truth,” you say again, but something in the tone of the figure’s voice makes you frown.

“Except… the city had gone… and there was nothing left… nothing but lies!”

You shudder back, swallowing hard. All around you, the darkness presses in with long, thin tendrils like so many loving fingers. The fire flares up, casting sparks up towards the cave’s ceiling, where stalagmites hang like broken teeth in a petrified monster’s maw.

“Oh… don’t be scared… come back — I won’t hurt you —”

“Liar!” you spit, the word scraping its way out of your throat.

Zoro leaps to his feet just as Luffy does the same. The fire flares again, a second before snuffing itself out, but in that second, you finally catch sight of the figure, hooded in shadow, sitting across from you — it has the shape of a man, tall and broad, but the limbs of a spindle-legged monster. It wears the darkness like a cloak, with beady, red eyes and a too-wide mouth.

“Don’t! Call me a liar! That’s what they called me — that’s what they called when they killed me! KILLED ME FOR TELLING THE TRUTH!”

You scramble back, Zoro nearly lifting you off the ground in his haste to pull you away. Luffy whips back his arm and swings it forward but all it catches is tendrils of shadow.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” he shakes off his fist, frowning as he stares at the bits of wriggling darkness still clinging to his skin.

“Run!” you shout as everyone bolts for the lightless path you all took to get to the heart of the cave.

“NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR! I FOUND IT! THE CITY! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME!”

You clap your hands around your ears and race for what you hope is the exit. Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of Zoro’s blades whistling through the air*.*

“Damnit! How’dyou fight a shadow? There’s nothin’ to hit!”

“Quit tryna hit it and just run!” Sanji’s voice answers a second before he breezes passed you.

“Why don’t you believe me? Why?!”

“We — I believe you!” you shout, your chest a thundering mess of footfalls and scrambling bodies, and against all instinct, you turn around to face the darkness again, cupping your hands around your mouth, “I believe you! I know — I know you’re telling the truth!”

“What’re you doing?” Zoro asks, leveling himself by your side, his arm pressing against yours. Behind you, the thinnest sliver of light is creeping into the cave from what you assume is the entrance.

Morning. Has it really been that long?

Time is the greatest liar, you remember, suddenly, violently, the thought tearing through you like teeth.

“I — he’s telling the truth,” you say through gritted teeth, even as you take a few steps back. Inside the cave, the figure seems to shrink back from the encroaching light.

“What truth?” Zoro asks, his blade held aloft, his stance wide and ready.

“All of it,” you say, forcing your voice to be gentle, turning your face back towards the darkness, “I know, I can hear it — I know you’re telling the truth — about the island, the city — all of it!”

“Yes… all I wanted was to get back to the city… but… no one believe me… and I died… I died for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry… no one should be punished for telling the truth —” your voice cracks.

“I tried!”

“I know…” you say as the figure shrinks and shrinks and shrinks and the light behind you grows and grows and grows, until you can feel the warm seeping into the skin of your back.

“And trying is everything,” you say, biting your lip as Zoro wraps an arm around your waist.

“Come with me… I’ll take you to the city — we can go together!”

You shake your head, heat prickling at your eyes as you turn away from the darkness of the cave and towards the light of the oncoming day.

“Liar…” the word falls from you like a rock, or a tear, cast off the cliff that greets you and Zoro as you both stare over the edge. The rest of the crew is nowhere to be found, but Zoro’s arm is still around your waist, and you can feel his warm breath by your cheek.

“Hey — do you trust me?”

You look up; in the dawning, morning light, Zoro, with his sun-kissed skin and dark moss hair appears to be limned in gold.

And maybe it’s the air, or the sea, or simply the angry pieces of this jagged, left-behind island of shadows like broken teeth trying to tear apart the sky, conducting his voice into a cacophony of echoes that sing and scream through the crags and eves of the valley beneath — but the whole island seems to reverberate with the question —

Do you trust me?

You close your eyes and breath. When you open them again, your heartbeat is steady. And when you speak, the rising sun streaks the tips of the saw-toothed peaks in strokes of molten gold. The valleys beneath you conduct your answer into an entire single-syllabled symphony —

Yes.

You feel his arm tighten around your waist, the wind as it tangles soft fingers in your hair. All around you, everything is light, and light, and light.

“Jump!”

You close your eyes, and jump.

-----

footnotes/appendix

uso-uso no mi translates to "lie-lie fruit"; i made it up bc it would be too op to have in the actual animanga i think

the "acts" refer to a classical 3-act structure that most movies/plays/scripts are written in: setup, confrontation, and resolution... with a smattering of other things sprinkled in for ~vibes~

in much of classical japanese and chinese mythology, foxes are associated with trickers and lies, often turning into beautiful women to deceive men, luring them into forests and mountains before taking their lives

the "figure" in the last scene is... can you guess? noland! kudos to anyone who figured it out as they were reading *\ (>o<) /*

did i absolutely take the "do you trust me" line from disney's aladdin??? HELL YEAH i did !!!! tru trust is my kink u__u

[lovingyoulovinme]

part 3 of childhood best friends!charles&y/n

part 1 part 2

ynupdates

3,838 likes

ynupdates Y/N today in Monaco!

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user1 so good to see her again 🥹 it's feels like it's been years since she deleted her socials

ylnleclerc she's home in monaco 🥰

user4 hey this is my pic haha she was super nice when i talked to her and she said she's doing really well after i asked how she was! she was with joris and another one of her friends

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user7 JORIS? AS IN CHARLES' JORIS????

September 14, 2023

joris_trouche

Liked by charles_leclerc and 32,388 others

joris_trouche Princess of Monaco has returned

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user3 moving back to monaco..hanging with joris...charles liking this post...i could cry

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user6 i need pictures of them together now im so serious joris open up that camera roll or i'll fight

ylnleclerc MY ANGEL

ynstan tell her to come back to instagram please please

user8 charles liked this so fast oh wow 😭😭

September 19, 2023

yourinstagram

Liked by pierregasly and 232,839 others

yourinstagram the past 2 months at home 🧸

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ylnleclerc CHARLESFJDBSJENEKRNRIRBSIENDI

user1 WE ARE SO BACK WE ARE SOOOOOOOO BACK

ynstan wife is back on instagram 🥹🥹🥹🥹

user4 not them lowkey getting exposed by that guy on twitter that met charles a few days ago jdbdnssn

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user12 why are we not talking about how he said they were so close that it seemed like they were dating...

charles_leclerc Can you follow me back now?

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yourinstagram i should block you again for locking me out of the house

charles_leclerc It was an accident 🏃‍♀️

ynstan are these bitches living together 😧

user11 the world is healing global warming has ended birds are chirping flowers are blooming

charlesfan i literally cant believe this is real i keep thinking im dreaming

user5 she was back in monaco for two months and no one knew until recently 😭

arthur_leclerc 🥰🥰

September 25, 2023

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Good Saturday. Now let's push for a good Sunday 🙃

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yourinstagram superstar 🫶

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user2 still the most supportive ever :( <3

charles_leclerc if i win will you follow me back?

yourinstagram maybe 😋

user3 bravo amore ❤️

f1 🙌

joris_trouche You better win for that y/n follow 🤣

charlesfan YOU GOT THIS KING

ynleclerc y/n still not following him is the funniest thing ever when you consider the fact that they are 100% dating

October 1, 2023

yourinstagram

Liked by charles_leclerc and 279,848 others

yourinstagram forever boy turns 26 today 🥹 i've loved you three (eleven*) summers!!!! and i want em all!!!!!

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pascale.leclerc.355 Enfin 🫶 (finally)

user4 soulmates 😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris #HappyCharlesDay

charles_leclerc Je t'aimerai à jamais. (i will love you forever)

charles_leclerc Thank you for the follow back

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yourinstagram anything for my fans ❤️

danielricciardo Happy birthday Charlie

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yourinstagram only i can call him that back off 😒

user2 "forever boy" i'm sobbing my eyes out

arthur_leclerc Last picture 🤣

charlesfan ELEVEN SUMMERS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

October 16, 2023

tags: @nothernlights19 @kavyaas-world @aldene-styles @bbymelsworld @willowpains @fangirlika @saturnsrinqs @escapism-writer @scharter @moonlightts2 @christianpulisic10 @buendiabebeta @haloxmendes @p4st3lst4rs @lunamelona @vita-di-moda @honethatty12 @deviltsunoda @spencerrxids @gentlemonsterjennie1 @i83andrew @lovely-blackinnon @champomiel @wavesnotfeelings @elijahslover @angelwithoutmywings @justsayk @f1-incorrect-s @stop-calling-me-willhelm @mjaudrey @keonminshea @destourtereaux

[warblogs17282]

My overall thoughts on Apology Tour (It's actually an 10/10 episode) and an in depth analysis of the episode.

The scene at the start was so fucking good, starts to place the seeds of doubt with Blitz, he almosts gets the point at the start multiple times before backtracking on that instantly, glad the harvest moon festival assassination attempt was brought up, I cannot wait for that to be mentioned again.

And then we get to the apology list, Blitz being in incredible denial about WHY people hate him and think a simple sorry will fix everything, this gets brought up later as well with Stolas fucking chatting shit to Blitz for it, which Blitz needed to hear so badly.

Then we get to Stolas pre song, he really doesn't want to shittalk Blitz, proof that Stolas still cares for Blitz, showing us that Stolitz still has a really strong chance of healing and coming back together with the power of healthy communication.

And then we get to the song, holy fucking shit it is top tier, it's a banger and talks about all the problems they have, how Stolas doesn't want to hurt Blitz, how he's hurt Stolas, with lines like 'I don't think you meant to hurt me' and a massive self reflection on Stolas' part as well. Making it damn well clear to Stolas what he wants, needs and the problems in their relationships, making communication about it later so much easier, POP THE FUCK OFF MY PRINCE. 'I don't think it meant anything at all'. This just shows one key flaw with Stolitz, based on Blitz's reaction in the full moon episode, Stolas now thinks that Blitz entirely never cared for him, something that Blitz HAS to address, eventually they'll get to that point but for now, Stolas is just singing his heart and true emotions out, playing all of his cards on the table for Blitz to see.

Then we get to this part, drunk Stolas and Blitz talking, Blitz actually talks about things properly to Stolas for once, and Stolas calls Blitz out on his bullshit constantly, which I love, because it will force Blitz to go over everything he's mentioned, allowing for actual healthy communication in the future between those two WHICH I FUCKING LOVE SO MUCH. Blitz gets a few issues off his chest during the whole part as well, which, while we're not fully there yet, will also cause Stolas to reflect on a lot of shit as well. FORCING BLITZ TO REALISE WHY SO MANY PEOPLE HATE HIM, AS STOLAS POINTS OUT WITH THE EXISTANCE OF THE PARTY. BOTH OF THEM ARE GOING THROUGH SO MANY EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW AND I LIVE AND DIE FOR IT.

This face, this fucking face. It's finally snaps for Blitz about how he's fucked up so much, what he has to do better all that shit, BLITZ WILL HAVE A MAJOR SELF REFLECTION EPISODE, AND THIS FACE PROVES IT, HE KNOWS WHAT STOLAS WANTS, AND HE'S DAMN WELL GOING TO LET STOLAS HAVE IT.

The way Blitz just, let's him have this dance and eventual fuck with this guy, it proves he's learning, he's not being defensive, he's just letting it play on regardless of how hurt he is, as stated later, it starts with just letting Stolas have this moment, to truly feel happy again, which shows he's putting Stolas' feelings first, and being a good person, which will help him communicate better to Stolas in the future, BECAUSE BLITZ IS LEARNING.

Blitz starts with denial, his trademark defense tactic, trying to shift the blame off himself and onto everyone else, and Verosika putting Blitz in his fucking place, he needs to hear about how he hurt her, about WHY the party exists in the first place, without him realising both of those things Blitz cannot heal, which is what Verosika is trying to get him to realise, how he can hurt people, which with how Blitz slowly gets down and changes his emotions as you can see on his face, Blitz fucking gets it, he's starting to learn to be a better person, to be able to be loved back, to be the person Stolas deserves, to be better for himself.

'I don't want to be this way, not forever.' With the context, this line hits so fucking hard, like a truck. Blitz is actually learning from his mistakes, with her, and Stolas being the two major points, Blitz is going to start an arc to face everything that's haunting him, to get over his problems, face them all, to be the better man for the person Blitz truly loves, Stolas. Everything has undeniably been realised for Blitz, and there's no going back for him, he will learn from his mistakes, and Stolitz can finally be back better, once that healing and mutual communication has been completed.

Stolas looks genuinely happy, like he's found someone, someone to help him through his troubles, to be someone Stolas needs in his life during this point in time. And you know what Blitz does? While he's still clearly hurt and disgusted, he lets Stolas have this moment, to be happy, proving on some level that he does deeply care for Stolas, sure Blitz does that really angry for a moment, but Verosika levels Blitz out with this line 'It just starts with saying, good for him, hope he gets laid.' He quickly simmers down the anger from that encounter, on better talking terms with Verosika, realising what he has to do now (just letting Stolas have this moment) and what to do in the future.

Sure Blitz is mostly angry and upset at the moment, but this starts an arc with Blitz, one of learning and understanding things that he needs to fix to ever be back with Stolas, he cannot deny anything any more for long, Blitz has flown right into the emotional core of everything and he will reflect on it, learn from it. To not be how he was, not forever. To be better for himself, to be better for his lover, Stolas. It's clear that Stolas still has feelings for Blitz, as the song and drunken talk they had shows. Stolitz will come back, not soon. But they will be. We've entered the arc where both Blitz and Stolas heal themselves, eventually being back on actual healthy communicating terms. Both of them don't want to be the ways they were. Not forever.

tldr, I've gone in depth about the episode, why I think it's amazing writing, and where Stolitz goes in the future. THEY WILL BE HAPPY EVENTUALLY. This is easily my new favourite episode, the best of the best, and I only pray that Vivzie can keep this train of amazing storytelling going.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Healing Bonds

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader(Past)

Summary: You find Yelena after Natasha, your ex-lover, has passed and you feel like it's your duty to keep Yelena close. What happens though when feelings rise up for the blonde Russian?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Lots of angst and hurt

A/N: So This idea had come to me after rewatching Endgame, Black Widow, and Hawkeye so here you go.

The first time you met Yelena Belova wasn't until after her sister and your ex-lover, Natasha Romanoff, died. Natasha had always talked about Yelena and how much she loved her. You cried when you first laid eyes on Yelena. The two looked nothing alike, and you were thankful for that because you don't think you could look at her if she did.

When you told Yelena who you were to Natasha, she cried, wishing for a million different scenarios in which her sister was still here with them, and all you could do was hug Yelena, which earned you a handful of punches. You learned quickly that Yelena could be a very violent person when dealing with certain emotions. The first time it happened, you let it. You let her get her aggression out.

"It's not fair! You had so much time with her! You got to be happy with her! Me? I got a mission that almost got us killed after 20 years of silence!" She yelled, and you just held her tighter. "I'm sorry, Yelena," You whispered over and over and over.

In those moments, as her fists collided with your body, you could feel the pain in her words. It wasn't just about Natasha's death; it was about the years lost, the missions that tore them apart, and the void left by the silence between them. You understood Yelena's anger, even if it was directed at you. It wasn’t as if she could direct it at the person she wanted to.

As the punches subsided, she finally collapsed into your arms, exhausted from the emotional storm that had consumed her. You sat there in silence for a while, the weight of Natasha's absence hanging heavily between the two of you. The room felt colder, emptier, and you couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at you.

"I wish she had more time with you too, Yelena," You said softly, your words barely audible. Yelena didn't respond, but her grip on you tightened, seeking solace in your shared grief.

In the aftermath of that turbulent encounter, the two of you began a journey of healing together. You were bound by the love you had both lost, and as the two of you navigated the tangled web of emotions, a new connection formed. A connection born out of pain, but one that held the promise of understanding and, perhaps, even redemption in the face of the losses you both endured in the wake of the Snap and beyond.

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You ended up taking Yelena home with you, offering her a permanent place by your side. She continued going on missions, which you had expected. The first time she left without telling you, and there was no note. You thought you'd lost her forever, sitting on the back porch in the summer evening air, your Y/H/C hair whipping around you as silent tears fell.

You didn't hear her come in, not until she was next to you did you notice her presence. "Why are you crying?" Her accent, thick and familiar, filled your ears as you grabbed her, pulling her in tightly, close, your heart hammering in your chest. "I thought I'd lost you too... don't... don't fucking do that again, Yelena!" You yelled at her, your voice trembling as tears flowed freely.

Yelena's expression softened as she held you, understanding the fear that gripped you during her absence. "I had to go. It was a last-minute mission, and I didn't want to wake you," she explained, her words a mix of apology and reassurance.

"It doesn't matter. Just... just tell me next time, please," You pleaded, your grip on her not loosening. The relief of having her back overwhelmed the anger that had fueled your outburst.

Yelena nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "I promise. I'm sorry for making you worry," she said, her voice soothing. The two of you stayed there, entwined on the porch, the summer breeze carrying away the tension that had momentarily fractured your newfound connection.

From that day forward, Yelena kept her promise. She would leave for her missions, but not without a word or a note, ensuring that you wouldn't have to endure the heart-wrenching uncertainty of her absence again. In the quiet moments between her departures and returns, your bond deepened, and the scars of your shared losses began to heal, one mission at a time.

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You decided to form a company a little over a year after Natasha died, the weight of her absence still heavy in your heart. Standing at her grave, you whispered into the wind, "I'm going to start a company. I don't want to be an Avenger anymore. Not without you, but I can help others. I know I can." The breeze felt like Natasha's touch, a comforting caress that seemed to echo her approval.

"Yelena and I have been living together for six months now, Tasha. She's exactly as you described. A spitfire and a brat at times. I don't know if you can forgive me or not when I say this, but I could see myself with her. She's my type, a power bottom with a bratty side." You chuckled as the wind picked up. "Okay okay... I understand, only if she moves first," You whispered, as if seeking Natasha's consent in the elements around you.

Your company started up with few hiccups. You planned on making a business out of seeking out people with powers and talents that could be considered Avengers, teaming them up with a manager. Eventually, you aimed to expand to other countries, each with its own headquarters. The goal was to create a network of skilled individuals, ready to defend against threats on a global scale.

You envisioned a world where those of you left in America could stay here unless faced with a Thanos-level threat, something you fervently hoped would never happen again. The legacy of the Avengers would live on through this new venture, a tribute to Natasha and a commitment to protecting a world that had lost so much but still held the potential for hope and resilience.

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You come home to find Yelena sitting on the couch with a pot of mac & cheese covered in hot sauce, using a too-big spoon. "Y/N! I made mac & cheese! Would you like some?" she asks, and you’re too exhausted to yell at her. You sit next to her, taking the spoon and eating some. "How was your day?" she inquires.

"Stressful, Lena. More and more people are learning about my company, and we're getting more and more applications," You reply, leaning your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hear her set the pot down on the coffee table before she curls up against your side. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

You remind yourself of the promise you made to Natasha. "Whatever you think sounds good. You've known me for over a year now, Lena. What is it that you think I want? What will make me feel better?" You don't open your eyes or look at her. you’re testing her, and she knows it.

You feel her shift off the couch, and you clench your fists. She's never going to make the first move as you fiddle with the band on your ring finger—the one you haven't taken off since Natasha gave it to you.

Yelena returns with a blanket, draping it over both of you. "How about a movie night? We can just relax and take a break from all the chaos," she suggests, her voice soft. It's a simple gesture, but the warmth of her presence and the consideration behind her words start to ease the tension within you.

You nod, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, that sounds good, Lena," you admit, a small smile playing on your lips. Maybe in that moment, amidst the mac & cheese, the too-big spoon, and the movie night proposal, you found a way to let go, even if just for a little while.

Yelena picks the movie while you change into pajamas, a tank top and shorts. You notice her eyes on your body, but choose to ignore it for the time being as you make popcorn and pour us some vodka sprites. Carrying the drinks and popcorn over, Yelena has picked out John Wick. You can’t help but chuckle at the choice as you settle back into the couch. Yelena moves closer, fitting into you like a puzzle piece as she takes your left arm and wrap it around her shoulders. You simply smile at the gesture, sipping on your drink and eating popcorn as the movie plays out.

About halfway through the movie, you feel Yelena absent-mindedly playing with the band Natasha had given you. She's engrossed in the movie, and you watch her, finding her reactions more enthralling than the movie at this point. It's a subtle touch, her fingers tracing the contours of the ring on your finger, and you can't help but be drawn to the way she navigates the emotions tied to Natasha's memory.

As the scenes of John Wick unfold on the screen, you lean your head against Yelena's, savoring the comfort of the moment. Her actions speak louder than any words, and in the quiet intimacy of that movie night, you start to understand that healing doesn't always come from grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the simplicity of sharing a movie, a drink, and the touch of someone who cares. And in those stolen glances and unspoken connections, you find a new layer of solace, a fragile bridge between the past and the potential for a future where happiness is not just a memory but a living, breathing reality.

You whisper in Yelena's ear, "Tasha gave me the ring." Yelena is pulled from the movie, looking down at your hand that she's been playing with. "It was a promise ring. She got it for me in Budapest. Saying when things settled down, she'd do the whole down on one knee, and we'd have this beautiful wedding where she'd wear a black dress instead of a white one. Everyone would be there, and we'd go back to Budapest for our honeymoon. When we'd come back, we'd ask for a safe house where we could just live quietly between missions..."

You don't realize you’re crying until Yelena is wiping the tears from your face. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I'm ruining movie night, aren't I?" You choke on your own sobs, but Yelena just pulls you against her, hugging you tightly. "No, you haven't ruined anything, Y/N. It's okay."

You hold onto her, shifting slightly until she's in your lap, once again feeling like a puzzle piece as we bury our faces into each other's necks. "If you had gotten married, I hope she would have come found me to be her maid of honor... though I don't know how good I'd be at that," Yelena admits.

In that vulnerable moment, amidst the shared pain and unspoken understanding, Yelena's admission brings a bittersweet smile to your face. The weight of Natasha's absence still lingers, but in Yelena's presence, you find a different kind of strength—a strength born out of shared grief, compassion, and the subtle promise of moving forward, even if it's one tear-streaked movie night at a time.

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Yelena wakes you up, gently calling your name and crawling onto your bed. "Y/N... Y/N..." She speaks softly, shaking your arm lightly. In your half-awake form, you turn to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face against your chest. You can smell her shampoo, pomegranates, and make a noise of content. "Y/N, I have to go," Yelena whispers.

"No," You refuse, not letting her go. In fact, you hold her a little tighter. "Yes, I must. The widows need me," she insists.

"I really don't want you to go... I worry so much every time you go out that door. I know you're the world's greatest assassin, but so was Natasha before you," You confess. Yelena cups your cheeks. "I'll come back. I promise."

Natasha said those exact words too. You feel the tears in your eyes, spilling over before I have a chance to stop them. They're down your cheeks and running over her fingers. "I know words mean very little. I know Nat said similar words. I'm not leaving, though. I'll come back. It's just freeing more widows that have been found. That's all. It's safe. I promise. None of them come close to my skills."

Yelena wipes your tears and assures you that she'll come back. You know you have to let her go. "Please just come back safe, Lena. Please," You lean your forehead against hers. "I can't do this without you," You finally confess.

"I'll come back. I'll always come back. You can't get rid of me, not anymore. You're too deep into this," Yelena tells you, and you look at her, searching her face. "Lena..." Gods, you want to kiss her so badly just to show her how much you need her, but you promised Tasha...

Yelena leans in, kissing your cheek, almost reaching your lips. It's the first time she's ever kissed you in any way. "I'll be back. A few days, that's all," she reassures, placing another kiss on your cheek before she leaves. She looks at you one last time with a smile before heading out, leaving you there, curled up into a ball and crying. Now, you definitely couldn’t lose her.

The weight of her absence already looms large, and the brief touch of her lips on your cheek lingers like a promise in the air. As you try to gather yourself, the echoes of Yelena's words and the warmth of her fleeting kiss become the anchor in the storm of your fears. You know you must trust her, just as Natasha had asked you to trust her own choices.

In the solitude of your room, you cling to the hope that Yelena will return, that the few days she's away won't stretch into an eternity. The scent of pomegranates still lingers in the air, a reminder of her presence, and you find solace in the belief that your connection, however fragile, will endure the challenges that lie ahead.

"Please tell me you'll count that as the first move, Tasha?" You ask, directing your words to the air as you look at the ring on your finger. There's a moment of silent contemplation, a silent conversation with a memory.

Then, you get up and get dressed, facing the day with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The echoes of Yelena's departure still resonate in your mind, but as you glance at the ring, you find a subtle strength. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but in that quiet acknowledgment, you feel the weight of a promise made, a connection forged, and a future that holds the potential for healing and new beginnings.

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"Yelena kissed my cheek; she almost kissed my lips, actually," You run your fingers across your cheek and the corner of your lip. "She had to go on a mission, and she told me the same words you did before you left me forever. I broke down. I seem to do that quite a bit with her now." You’re looking at Natasha's grave. It has been two years now since she left. "Tasha, I know we had our plans, and I will never forget them, but I want to move on... I need to, and in order to do that..." You pull the ring off your finger, twisting it between your fingers. "I need to give this back to you, darling." You’re trying not to choke on your tears as they flow freely down your face. You wrap it up in a little cloth, a red one, and bury it just a little ways down. "Please be happy for me, darling. You know she'll always treat me right." You are full-blown crying as you kiss her gravestone and head back home, hoping Yelena is finally home.

As you walk away, the weight of the past feels a bit lighter, as if the act of returning the ring is a step towards embracing the future. The pain is still there, the memories still vivid, but in the tears and the quiet goodbye, there's a sense of release and a tentative hope for what lies ahead. You head back home, your heart heavy but with a flicker of anticipation, hoping Yelena's absence will soon be replaced by her comforting presence.

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When Yelena comes back home, she finds you crying on the floor. She picks you up into her arms and holds you as you sob. When you finally come to from your crying session and register that she's back, you cup her cheeks and slam your lips against hers a little rougher than you intend. You soften up a bit when you realize how rough you truly were.

"You're back..." you whisper against her lips.

"I told you I'd be back," she whispers back, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you back in. The two of you kiss, hungry and passionate, as if she's been waiting all her life for this moment. In the embrace of her arms, the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future momentarily fade away. There's only the warmth of the present and the promise of a new chapter, where healing and love can coexist, a testament to the resilience of the heart after weathering the storms of loss.

"Yelena..." You pull back, leaning your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting forever for that," Yelena admits.

"I know you were grieving, so I just wanted to be here for you, and I was never sure if I should act on my feelings," Yelena tells you, and you give her a soft, quick kiss this time.

"I talked with Tasha about it and promised I wouldn't make the first move," Yelena laughs. "When was this?" she questions.

"A year ago at her grave. You were on a mission, and I went to visit her just before starting up the Avengers company. I told her about how I was falling for you and to not hate me for it. The wind whipped around me, and so I promised I wouldn't make the first move. When you kissed my cheek before leaving, I took that as you making the first move. I visited Natasha yesterday and told her about it and gave back her ring. I left it with her so that I could move forward," You explain, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief.

Yelena brushes her thumbs against your tear-stained cheeks and listens to your words. "I promise I'll live up to your expectations. I'll do everything I can to do right by you, Y/F/N," she says, and you chuckle at the use of your full name.

"I know you will, and so does Natasha. I don't think I could be in better hands than yours, Lena," You say, feeling a sense of acceptance and hope for the future. The weight of grief begins to lift, replaced by the promise of a new chapter, and the knowledge that love, even after loss, has the power to mend and rebuild.

[the-one-that-weeps]

The day people realise that Niigo symbolises life and rebirth and Wxs symbolises death and farewells is the day I can die in peace. No I will not elaborate further.

...

Actually yes, I will elaborate further. Much further.

If you take a closer look, all of the units represent rebirth, even if their portrait of it varies: Leoneed broke apart but came back together because whatever sets them apart isn't as crucial as what brings the together, More more jump almost gave up on their dreams but came back and came back stronger with newfound passion and Vivid Bad Squad are literally the ashes left behind by the dying phoenix that was Rad Weekend. They're bringing new fire to good old Vivid Street. If that's not life and rebirth I don't know what is.

And Niigo... Gosh. Niigo is about love. Niigo is about care, about healing, about despair and rage and joy but most of all it's all about love. Mizuki and their journey towards self-love and trust, Ena's fight and frustration to recover her love for art, Mafuyu's path through self-discovery, freedom and the cage of conditional love that keeps her locked away from it, and it all spins around a lone composer who carries around the rags of past love and comfort just as closely as her neverending guilt.

Just... Look at what they were during the main story and look at them now. They've grown so much stronger and so much healthier and it's all thanks to love.

It's also important to point out that none of these alliances have a reason to end. Niigo will keep composing for a brighter future even after 25:00 disappears from the clock, Vivid Bad Squad are on their way to not only surpass the ultimate legend but also expand outside of that (and potentially take over the world), More More Jump are doing better than ever even after they switched to the credit based course and Leoneed has a whole promise about never disbanding again!

It's devastating to know that Wonderlands X Showtime... Don't have that.

The disbandment arc has been teased for years and it will continue to be part of their story whether we like it or not. They have different objectives and different paths to cross. In other units characters fight to hold onto one another time and time again because of their love, but wxs love each other enough as to let each other go in order to secure a better end for everyone.

Wxs' themes and happiness and dreams, and obviously neither of those can last forever, but you can hold them close and relish in them while they're here. Isn't that what life is all about?

The thing is, feelings and people are ever changing, perhaps that’s what makes them so beautiful. And never and forever are a long time. But they don't exist. Not for you, not for me, not even for the sun and the stars. One day the music will stop and we'll know it's time for the curtain call to fall one last time. And then we'll begin again

[gtgbabie0]

Hello!! I've been reading your stories for a while and get so excited whenever I see that you post <3 You're writing style is so soft to me and it makes me giggle all girly too

Im not sure if you've done this already but was wondering if you would write about Leon and reader's first kiss together? Like how he would get all flustered and try to hide his grin from them :')

Feel free to change the premise to whatever you think will fit! Have a good day/night ♡♡♡

First kiss

{You and Leon share your first kiss}

I’m sobbing! Please I love him so very much!! He’s so boyfriend!! 💕

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“Here let me,” Leon says, taking one of the shopping bags from your hands with a smirk, you’d spent the day helping him get groceries and it was honestly more fun than you’d originally thought. You thank him watching as he sets the bags on the kitchen counter.

You help him unpack the bags, “You staying for dinner tonight sweetheart?” He asks leaning against the countertops, arms crossed over his chest.

He wants you to say yes, he wants you to stay tonight and forever because he knows he sleeps better when you’re here, he doesn’t have to worry about you if you’re right here with him.

He watches you contemplate your decision with a hopeful look in his eyes, “Yeah if you want me to” you smile lifting yourself up with your hands to sit on the marble countertop.

He looks over at you, of course, I want you to stay, he thinks watching as you kick your socked feet, “I always want you here” He smiles, and you can’t help the butterflies that flutter around in your belly.

He’s such a sweetheart, with his soft words that leave you love-sick and craving more.

Leon walks over to you where you’re sitting and he taps your knee, a silent way of asking you to lift your legs so can get into the cupboard and you do, watching him take out two glasses.

“If you change your mind let me know okay? I’ll drop you home” he tells you, and he knows you probably won't but he gives you the option anyway because the last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable around him.

You nod your head watching as he pours himself a glass of water before walking over to the fridge and pulling out a small carton, “Apple juice for my girl” He smiles as you nod happily, watching as he pours the drink before handing the glass to you.

“Thank you for today,” he says with a grateful smile.

“It was actually quite fun,” you tell him, taking a sip of the juice before putting the glass down on the counter beside you.

Leon looks over at you, and there’s a part of him that can’t quite believe you’re his, someone so sweet and perfect, how you’ve healed his heart without even knowing and he thinks about all the ways he wants to thank you.

You must’ve noticed the way the mood changed as you hold your arms out for him and he gladly takes the offer, standing between your legs as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your loving warmth envelopes him and he swears that you have the ability to make everything in his life seem perfect.

He pulls back slightly looking down at your face, his thumb gently ghosting over your cheek, and you smile at the feeling, such a small loving gesture it makes your heart stammer in your chest at the sudden closeness.

Close enough to kiss, you think and the thought makes you feel giddy with excitement, and you start to think of how his lips might feel against yours, his taste and his warmth.

The thought crosses Leon’s mind too and there’s nothing he wants more than to kiss you, but he’s terrified of overstepping boundaries, he just wants to bring you the happiness you do for him.

So he simply asks, “Can I kiss you?” His tone is so quiet, gentle and caring that it leaves you breathless.

“Yes, you can,” you say, and he leans in closer, you can feel his breath fanning against your skin, and your eyes flutter close as his lips finally press against yours, he’s so careful almost as if he’s scared of hurting you.

Your heart feels like it’s running laps around your chest, and it’s so exciting it sends tingles through your skin and you can’t help but move closer to him, chasing after his warmth.

He brings a hand to gently cup your cheek, thumb grazing against the warm skin and another sits against your hip, his heart blooms with love at how you seem to fit against him so perfectly, just like puzzle pieces.

Leon loses himself completely, and he forgets everything outside this small moment as he tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss, his tongue against yours, and the soft noises that escape you send his heart squeezing with devotion, because god, you just make the cutest noises.

It’s a hopeful feeling that grows within you both, a kiss so sweet and exciting just like turning the page of a really good book, and you know that from this kiss will come many more just like beginning a new chapter, and you can’t wait.

He pulls back, forehead pressed against yours as both of you catch your breath, “I love you” The words flow so easily from his mouth as if they came naturally and they linger just like the kiss.

“I love you too” you smile, noticing the way he looks away from you with a bashful smirk, the type you have no control over.

He can’t bring himself to look at you, he feels like a schoolboy who’s head over heels and he doesn’t know why you leave him so dizzy, maybe it’s because he’s so enchanted by you, he could honestly name thousands of different things about you that he’s completely obsessed with.

“You can’t kiss me like that then go all shy on me Kennedy” You giggle as he hides his head in the crook of your neck, your fingers threading through his hair.

He groans against your skin, “You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to be fine” he mumbles and you can’t stop the giggles that bubble out of you.

You give him a moment before he finally looks at you again and you notice the way his cheeks are tinted with the slightest hint of red and you take pride in the sight.

“Kiss me again?” You smile, and he swears his heart stops for a moment.

“Alright” and before he can even make a move you’re already pulling him in, and you both giggle into the soft kiss, and it’s better than you could ever imagine.

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[hyukalyptus]

anything for you — beomgyu x reader w pierced nipples | established relationship. NSFW/MDNI!!!

cw. afab!chubby!reader has pierced nipples obvi, mentions of sexting/sending nudes, lots of nipple play, reader wears lingerie, unprotected sex, cumming on the tummy, a teeny bit of a voice kink for both, not proof-read too well. notes. happy kinktober! apparently i've been in a beomgyu mood recently?? i blame @agustdiv1ne for clouding my brain w beomgyu thoughts ever since telepathy tbh. honestly i don't rly love this, but lmk what y'all think <3 smut under cut. wc. 2.3K

“You look so sexy in all those pictures you’ve been sending me,” he says, his voice low and smokey, you can practically feel his breath on your neck. Not seeing each other in a few weeks often leads to desperate, longing texts to each other and the frequent nude photo from you. 

“I knew you’d like them,” you giggle. “I know you miss me.”

“I do.” Plopping down in his hotel chair, he sighs, exhausted from the day he’s had. “I miss you so fucking much, babe.” Oh, what would he be doing to you if you were there? Not just sitting in this stupid chair, that’s for sure. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m at work, babe,” you say matter-of-factly. Damn. God, he’s been dreaming of having phone sex with you for weeks. Your voice in real life gets him going enough on its own, but the thought of getting off to just your voice…sounds magical. But between rehearsals, your job, and interviews, there’s never been a good time. “I was actually about to say I gotta go. I’m sorry.” You slouch over in your hand, longing for his touch just as much as him. “I did wanna tell you,” you start. “I have a  surprise for you when you get home.”

-

“You’re here.” Finally, after weeks apart, he’s standing in your doorway—it’s surreal. The way he smiles down at you, eyes already mentally undressing you while he kicks his shoes off, letting you grab his hand to drag him to your living room. 

Pushing him to the couch, you hover between his legs, knees pressed into the couch cushions as his hands rest on the small of your waist. 

“Ready for your surprise?” A smile appears on his lips. It’s all he’s been thinking about. 

“I dunno…am I?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Tilting your chin down, you look at his eyes sensually, like you’re about to scream. Reaching for his hands, you ask, “Why don’t you unbutton my shirt for me?” You wore that shirt just for this, just to watch him slowly undress you so you can see the absolutely delicious expression on his face. Nodding gently, he takes forever. You think you may burst. 

As your shirt falls to the floor, he looks over your body—every beautiful inch of it—your full tits spilling over the top of your bra, your tummy rolls looking so delicious and warm, your waist that holds his hands so perfectly. 

His expression drops, “Wait…what’s the surprise? I mean, your body’s enough of a surprise, but am I missing something?”

Shooting him a knowing look, you suggest, “Maybe you should take my bra off.” Reaching behind you, your heart pounds waiting for the snap. It always feels so good to take your bra off, but the look on his face when he sees—

“Oh my god…” he exhales, his eyes darting between both of your nipples with new barbell piercings through them. Your chest heaves with nervousness as you wait for his reaction. You expected an attack of lips and tongue, to be picked up and dragged to bed, maybe even to be fucked right on the couch.

But none of that happens. His eyes are wide, just staring at your tits. 

“D-do you like them?” You ask, eyes awkwardly diverting to the couch. 

“Are you kidding?” He sighs, sitting up straight, reaching for one of your tits, opening his mouth.

“Nope,” you giggle, pulling away from him. “You can’t lick them until they heal.”

“When will that be?”

“I got it done a few days ago…” you look up, biting the inside of your cheek. “So about a month left.”

“A month?” Collapsing back on the couch, his eyebrows stitch together, rubbing his temple before he whines, “But babe…”

“You’ll be alright,” you say, tussling his hair. 

SIghing, he says, “I guess so…” Eyes floating across your body, he can’t take them off you, god this is gonna be hard. “Stand back a second? I just wanna look at you.” How can he not put your nipples in his mouth for a whole month? Can he even touch you? How is he gonna get through a whole month without squeezing your gorgeous tits? You can tell some kind of internal conflict—almost existential crisis level—is going through his head. 

“Babe, calm down,” you giggle. “You can still squeeze my tits. You just can’t—” Yanking you forward by your fingertips, he hands urgently squeeze you. “Babe, babe,” you giggle. “Just avoid the nipples, okay?” Nodding rapidly, he buries his face between your cleavage, kneading them gently. “You really like them though, right?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Coming up for some air, he looks up at you through his lashes, breath heavy. “They’re sexy and…really pretty if I’m honest,” he says. Returning his mouth to you, he sucks and licks everywhere but your nipples and frankly, this might be tough for you too. 

-

A month later, you’d planned a dinner date and with your piercing finally healed, you can’t wait to get through it to get home. It’s been just as hard on you…make out sessions that would naturally move to his lips wrapped around your nipples ending in groans of realization, gasps at the sting of a squeeze that was a little too rough, you’re ready for them to be healed already.

It’ll all be worth it, though, you keep telling yourself. A month of suffering in order to look super fucking cool and hot the rest of your life? Definitely worth it. 

Sitting on the same side of the booth, you show enough PDA to make the whole restaurant cringe if you weren’t in a private dining room. Whispers of what he wants to do to you later make it more and more difficult to keep the fact your piercings are healed a secret. 

Back at your apartment door, your heartbeat races faster and faster as you unlock your door. Both of you know where this is going—it’s where almost all dates lead to—but only you know his lips will once again be on your—pierced—nipples.

As soon as your shoes are kicked off, he slyly leads you to your bed, hands already following the curves of your body as he rips clothes off your body until there’s nothing left but your cute lingerie. 

Reaching behind you, he unclasps your bra as he lets out a sigh, eyebrows stitching together at the sight of you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body. 

“Babe…your body,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “It’s just,” he exhales, running his hands all over you. “Perfect.”

“I know,” you giggle to yourself proudly, loving when he’s so desperate to touch you. Lips attached to your neck, fingertips trace random shapes on your thigh. He’s wanting to take his time tonight, you think to yourself. 

“You know…” you sing and he hums in response, still covering your body with kisses. “It’s been about a month since I got my piercings.” 

Backing off quickly, he asks, “Are you saying…?” Eyes wide with anticipation, you bite your lip and nod. Practically giddy, he sits up to ask, “They’re healed?”

“Not completely, so you still need to be careful.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so excited to lick you—almost in a pant as he squeezes you experimentally. He’s so cute. 

“Are you sure? It’s not gonna hurt?”

“I’m sure.” You nod. “Go ahead.” Kissing around your nipple, his lips barely miss the most sensitive part of you. Blowing it gently, he watches it pucker even more than it was with the jewelry through it, a gleam in his eye at your body reacting without him even touching you. Finally pressing his lips to it, you flinch at the tenderness. 

“Good?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “They’re still a little sensitive, but I’m okay,” you say, your chest heaving. Flicking his tongue over it, he groans in relief, eyes snapping shut. Feeling you relax, he’s not playing around anymore. Squeezing you harder, licking you more furiously, he gently sucks you into his mouth, experimenting a bit, carefully listening for your moans of approval. 

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you shove his face down just to have a little bit more. You’d forgotten just how fucking good it felt to have his mouth on your nipples. It’s magical. You’re flooded with anticipation. You need him. Bad. But you want him to take his time too. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says, repositioning to straddle your hips. After sucking enough to leave marks that’ll show up tomorrow morning, you pull him closer by the nape of his neck to press your lips to his. “Get on top of me for a bit.”

Flipping on his back, he pulls you over his hips, forcing you to lean against the headboard with your forearms, giving him easy access to your tits that fall right in front of his face. You're losing patience. His tongue feels so good, but your nipples are tired. It’s starting to get a bit overwhelming. You need him somewhere else.

“Babe, babe,” you say breathlessly. “I think that’s enough—” Shaking his head, he mumbles a nuh-uh into your chest. “Yeah-huh.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. Gliding his hands down your back, he squeezes your ass harshly before gliding across your clit with his thumb. Gasping, your patience starts to run thinner and thinner. 

Lifting your body up, you say, “Sit criss-cross. Following your instructions, your legs wrap around his hips and you kiss him again, his hands exploring your body. Fuck, you need him. 

“Baby,” you sigh between kisses. “Please. I need your cock so bad.”

“Already?”

“You’ve been licking my nipples for an hour,” you giggle. “I’m getting impatient.” Grinding down on him, he’s painfully hard underneath you and god, you just want him inside already. Reaching for his cock, your eyebrows raise, silently asking permission. After earning a nod from him, you slowly sink down, a groan leaving your throat. 

Arching your back, his mouth finds your tits again while his hips thrust into you as if they have a mind of their own. Almost instantaneously, he finds a sensitive spot inside you. 

“You look so sexy in my lap like this,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your chest. Moaning, your head falls back while he grabs your thighs, giving you a good spank. “Your tits are gorgeous,” he says, making you chuckle. “What a great fucking view.” 

The sudden feeling of his mouth on your nipple makes you yelp—you’re still so sensitive. He halts, looking up at you worriedly, asking if you’re alright. . 

“Yes, yes—” you say breathlessly. “It just feels amazing.” He smirks, returning his mouth to you, his tongue never leaving your skin. Stretching his hand over your tummy, his thumb rubs circles over your clit, adding even more sensitivity. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so fast.” You gasp. You’re so fucking close. 

“That’s it, baby.” That fucking sentence. That sentence on it’s own is enough to send shivers down your spine, but the way he says it with that deep fucking voice is incredible. It makes your stomach tie itself in knots, it turns your cheeks red, and makes your head light. “Cum on me,” he says, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips. “Cum all over my fucking cock, babe.” 

With a few final bounces, you let yourself go, cumming hard around him. The feeling you’ve been waiting for crashes over you. Sure, you’d had sex while your piercings were healing, but not having his tongue on your nipples simply wasn’t the same. This new heightened sensitivity has your head reeling. Your shuddering legs can hardly hold your own body up. You’re damp with sweat. 

And fuck does he look good, smirking up at you with that cocky smile, watching you ride out your high. He loves having you cum like this. You look so helpless trying to hold yourself up. 

He doesn’t waste much more time though. Once you catch your breath, he flips you on your back, pinning your hands over your head to kiss you harshly. Thrusting into you again, he stares down at your bouncing tits, gripping one with his left hand, his thumb carefully pressing into your nipple. 

As you moan through gritted teeth, he digs into you, beads of sweat forming at his forehead as he focuses on his movements and making himself feel you. You already had your turn. 

And fuck do you feel good. He’s simply using you as a cocksleeve at this point and you can’t get enough of it. Neither can he. The image of your bouncing tits with pierced nipples is too fucking good. But combine that with your absolutely soaking pussy, he’s in heaven. 

As his thrusts get uneven, he groans, pulling out to pump himself a few times to finish on your tummy. He’s never done this before. He’s always finished inside you or he’s finished on your back and you’ve never seen him touch himself like this. It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You’d be happy if that was the last image you ever saw. 

Leaving a sloppy kiss on your forehead, he sluggishly stands, leaving you and your heaving chest on your back with your tummy covered in his cum. You’d recovered from your own orgasm, but you’re still short circuiting over seeing him jerk off in front of you. 

“What?” He chuckles at your blank face as he returns with a damp towel. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he snaps you out of your trance. “I gotta say,” you start. “I really liked watching you touch yourself there at the end. I don’t think you’ve ever done that in front of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…will you do that more often for me?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you, babe.”

[unconventional-lawnchair]

We'll heal together: Prologue

Harry Potter x Reader (Platonic)

Masterlist

Summary: Harry Potter grew up without the warmth of a family he should have known. A father in James Potter, a mother in Lily Potter, a God Father in Sirius Black, and an Uncle in Remus Lupin. Oh, and let's not forget, an aunt in {Y/N} {L/N}.

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, thoughts of self pity and mourning, {please reach out if I missed something}

Wc-526

Harry felt lost, he felt cold.

He found himself at the astronomy tower late at night, wrapped in the invisibility cloak up to his neck and leaning forward on the banister rail. His eyes were hazy, glossy and warm, fogging his glasses. With a huff he pulled them off and cleaned them with a corner of the cloak, sliding them back up his face as the hot tears that threatened to spill just made him repeat the process.

He had been wandering late at night, really anything to keep his mind off of everything that had happened so far. He felt guilty, this year had started off so well, all of his friends seemed to be happy, but here he was, Harry Potter, moping over a love he truly never knew.

He found his eyes drifting up to the stars. He had never seen so many before Hogwarts, in the city he grew up in, even the skies seemed dark in the clearest of nights. His mind attempted to wander, back to the Dudley's and the cupboard he slept in. The life he was denied and the truths they kept. But he pulled himself from those thoughts as soon as he could, focusing instead on the lights.

He squinted, as if the constellations he learned of in class would suddenly take shape. That they would morphe into creatures and instruments, the ones that matched the stories he heard. That Leo would suddenly come to life and the two lions he heard so much about would return to him, back home to his heart. He found it fitting, being born to those clusters of stars. He himself had put them up there, in protecting him, and now they were forever what he would think of. The two lions who fought so fiercely just to meet him. Just to have him. But he sat here, weeping their names, as if he had even known them.

He shook the thought away. He would not sit here moping about his dead parents. Even with his mini pep talk, he found his eyes dragging up to the sky once more. His eyes caught by the brightest star in the sky. He frowned, slowly sitting up straight as he witnessed it, a pout growing harder. Before he could ponder what the longing in his heart was, he heard it. The foot falls of the Prefects on their rounds.

Harry huffed and shook his head. He needed to go back to bed.

The moon provided a strange warmth in his stomach that he had never known before, as its light flickered in the halls everytime he passed a window. He let his eyes trail back to the window, pausing for only a moment as he saw what seemed to be a small fox scurry its way between the courtyard walls and a small burrow it seemed to have made for itself. He found himself smiling despite it all, tonight was.. wasn't all bad. Summer was soon, and next year, there would be no Tom Riddle, no basilisks to fight, no Lockheart. After this summer, it would be okay.

Year 3 would be his year.