#that I've always attributed to him

[luniviravosshipper]

So what if I said season 1 and season 7 of TDP are my favorites. Can you blame me?

And I'm tired of having to pretend those are some of the worst seasons of their retrospective arcs.

[hidendumbassvillage]

.

[bitckupa]

Ik I only come on here to talk abt my next new coworker crush but like

There's this one guy who I found attractive from the start but who I was a bit intimidated by bc he's very straight forward and even when he tried to be helpful it could come off as a bit rude.

I've pretty much been avoiding him for a year straight unless I had to interact with him for work reasons. But we started talking more this summer bc most ppl who we regularly talk to were on holidays the weeks we were working, and ever since then we've been friendly. And since I got my new position in another department, we've been hanging out during breaks instead.

Anyway... smth is going on

[kermdoeswriting]

Don't Call Me That

Dick isn't entirely sure what it is about their newest teenaged recruit Phantom, but the guy absolutely gives him the creeps.

He knows it isn't the implication of a realm of ghosts being a real thing, no matter how much that implication has rattled his brain. But it is something, something else.

There was just some kind of certain air surrounding Phantom that tended to put Dick on edge whenever they're near each other.

It also doesn't help that the guy has the tendency to do things normal people wouldn't really do. Things like talking to the empty air like he's having a genuine conversation or staring off into one spot of the room like a cat watching a corner of the wall while hunting.

Things like bringing sudden chills to Dicks skin whenever he passes by or the way he seems to constantly breathe out cold air like a dragon for the fun of it.

Dick has caught him doing all of these things multiple times and most times, despite scaring him slightly, they were just harmless things about his newest team-mate.

But right now it wasn't really about that at all. Right now he's more annoyed than afraid of him.

For some reason recently, Phantom has been greeting him by his old hero persona rather than his new one. And its been eating at Dick every single time it happens, being reminded of the time he had first switched costumes and names to distance himself from Batman as a whole.

Except this time the person saying it had never even MET him in his original suit, so having Phantom calling him Robin was aggravating him faster than any of the other more important issues he should be dealing with were.

Dick originally attributed to it possibly being some sort of hero worship that he was going through, an attempt to impress him with his past history as knowledge. God knows, Tim wasn't any better when he had first met the poor kid at his doorway all those years ago.

But then Phantom had revealed that he hadn't even known Gotham was a real city nor did he know who Batman was up until a few months ago. That had set Dicks mental alarm bells off all over again.

It was weird all over and since it was just outright weird, Dick had decided to pull him aside to talk to the younger teen about it.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't call me by that name, Phantom" He had started off, watching as Phantom went through confused faces to figure out what this conversation was about. Dick just continued on.

"The name, Robin, is just really special to me and my family. And I stopped going by that name years ago, it would feel wrong to be called that again when I've outgrown it."

Phantom looked less confused now as it seemed to click altogether about what he had been talking about. The teen tilted his head at him, looking over him for a second before doing another one of his cat stares at the dead air behind him.

Dick just sighed for a moment but watched as Phantom came back into focus and genuinely looked somewhat apologetic.

"I'm sorry," Phantom started off sheepishly, eyes looking towards the floor for a second before looking back at his. "I didn't know you both went by that name at some point. I had mostly been greeting the little ghost attached to your side, not you, sir"

Dick froze at the wording, looking at Phantom with wide eyes. Phantom just continued without even looking at him.

"He always seems to be around you a lot and he was excited when he realized I could see him so I started greeting him whenever he was with you. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfy doing so."

Dicks breath hitched a bit before eventually choking out all the questions he had trapped in his throat. The suddenness made Phantoms eyes land back on his face again.

"What... What little boy? Did he say his name? What was he wearing?"

Phantom tilted his head again at Dick, looking more confused at Dicks confusion.

"What do you mean? It's Robin wearing the Robin costume?"

Phantom suddenly looked over to the dead air behind him again for a second, nodding his head and humming a bit before turning his attention back to Dick.

"He told me to say 'Big Bird you're such a dolt' to you. I don't know what that means but-"

Dick couldn't hear anything else Phantom was even saying to him. His breathing stopped and all he could feel was a small chill behind him, seemingly surrounding him in a small way that reminded him of a certain boys hug.

"Jason?"

[dailynnt]

TRUTH OR DARE: KISS A FRIEND

✘ Summary: During the game of Truth or Dare, Jungkook kisses you so hard that you can't think of anyone else but him. But it doesn't seem to mean anything to him. To forget about him, you start talking to someone else, but Jungkook won't let anyone take his place.

✘ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

✘ Age restrictions: 18+

✘ Size: one shot

✘ Tags: friends to lovers, possessive!jungkook, truth or dare, jealousy, heated moments, intense attraction, slowburn but not really, confused feelings, denial but not for long, unspoken desires, spicy tension, one kiss changes everything, unprotected sex.

✘ From author: Hello, guys, everyone. I've written something new for you here 🥹 But I'll start writing "Captive to His Attention" soon. Imagine, I had three short stories in my head at the same time and I had to choose one of them and of course I couldn't help but write about my favourite friends to lover. Let's just admit that this will be my signature theme! 🤭😂 I hope you like it because I really enjoyed writing it 🔥🥰

✘ Dedication: I can't choose one person. That seems like a crime if I did it. I dedicate this work and every next one to my most beloved army in the world: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @mskookie, @kooko009, @myjungkookthighs, @medstudentlifestyle, @someoneelse0109, @minimoninini, @byeolluvher 💜 I love you girls so much 🥹 Thank you for your endless support and love, so this is my humble gift to you to make you feel good ❤️‍🔥💜

✘ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

"One minute?" you laughed, your voice breaking into a slight hysteria.

"Just one minute. It's just a prank," Taehyung said. 

"Are you nervous?" You heard your friend's voice from the side. You turned to her and met her sly eyes. 

"I’m? Nervous? No, why would I be?" You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your cocktail. The ice in the glass clinked against the walls as you set it down on the table. The alcohol made you a little dizzy, but not enough to not realize what you had just gotten yourself into.

Everyone at the table was cheering you and Jungkook on. It was just a game. It's just a stupid game of truth or dare. You kept choosing truth because it wasn't hard and you had nothing to hide, and doing the dare was boring or just lazy.

But Taehyung got tired of you always choosing "truth", so he insisted on choosing "dare". And you got it! ‘Kiss a friend during a minute’. You could have chosen anyone. But when you heard what you had to do, for some reason your eyes reflexively looked at Jungkook, who was already looking at you. It could be attributed to the fact that you have been friends for a long time, because in any difficult situation, you sought support from him first. You and Jungkook have been best friends for... how long? Five years? 

This did not go unnoticed by your another friends, and so they insisted that you kiss Jungkook. You both refused, and you said you wouldn't do it, not with Jungkook, not with anyone from the company.

"No, that's not the way it works," Jimin interjected, "Either you kiss Jungkook or you drink 0.5 litres soju in one gulp."

You're left with no choice. It's better to kiss Jungkook than to suffer from a terrible drunkenness and then an even worse hangover in the morning. 

"You two are just stalling," your friend, Su Ah, teased, setting down her empty glass. "You’ve been together for so many years that it’s obvious to everyone that you’re either finally kissing or planning a wedding."

You snorted. Jungkook laughed.

"Su Ah, your logic is impeccable," Jungkook replied sarcastically, twirling his half-empty whiskey glass in his fingers. "But unfortunately, Y/N and I haven’t discussed a wedding date yet."

"Not yet?" your friend asked with a sly smile.

"Jungkook, come on!" you snapped at him, trying not to show your embarrassment.

He just huffed, and your friends started talking again, urging you on. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and someone was about to push you down. But... you couldn't just run away, could you?

You looked at Jungkook again. The eyes you knew so well looked at you with a slight challenge. He wasn't going to dodge, he wasn't going to joke. He was just waiting.

"God," you muttered, picked up your glass and took the last sip, as if it could give you courage.

"Well?" Jimin tapped his fingers on the table, holding you with a long look.

"Okay," you sighed, feeling your heart start to beat faster.

You turned to Jungkook, and he smiled slightly. You had joked about this kind of thing hundreds of times. Teased each other, played with flirting that never turned into anything serious. But now... now it all seemed too real. 

You walked over to him because you were sitting across from him, and he walked over to you as well. Everyone was watching with interest. 

"Close your eyes right away so it won't be so embarrassing," you muttered, trying to smooth things over. 

"Yeah, and you're going to kiss me on the forehead? You know that won't work," he chuckled.

"I'll punch you in the forehead right now!" You lifted your chin as if you were really offended, although you realized that your authority could not be saved.

"Don't even think about it," Jungkook leaned closer.

The friends froze, waiting. The room became quiet, too quiet for such a noisy company.

And then you stepped forward and finally touched his lips.

Warmth.

Softness.

A strange heat somewhere in your chest.

You kissed him quickly, almost afraid to stay longer, but before you could pull away, he put his hand on your back, holding you closer.

There were muffled whispers around, someone giggled, someone whistled encouragingly. But it all disappeared the moment he entered his tongue in your mouth. And you let your tongues dance together. You felt the throbbing between your thighs as Jungkook deepened the kiss. 

You heard someone counting seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

His fingers tightened around your waist, and you suddenly realized that you didn't want to pull back. You never thought your best friend was such a great kisser. God, you could have admitted that no one had ever kissed you that well. 

Fifty.

When Jungkook tilts his head a little, changing the angle, you're hit with a wave of something hot, dangerous. His tongue touches yours, making you almost moan. 

"Hey, are you guys ever going to stop?" Taehyung teased.

Jungkook slowly pulled away, leaving a warm aftertaste on your lips as you both heard the sound of the timer beeping. You stared at each other in silence. 

Su Ah slammed her hands on the table.

"Well, congratulations, now either date or continue to pretend that you're just friends."

Jungkook just huffed, looking away from you.

"We're just friends, and it was just a game." You gave him a small smile and went back to the table. You continued playing and drinking at the bar. 

Jungkook's words upset you, but you didn't show it. You gave him a fast glance. He was talking to Jimin and acted as if you hadn't just kissed. 

For a moment, you remember the sensation of his lips and tongue, and it's like being shoved into an oven. It immediately becomes hot. Friends don't kiss like that! But maybe it's just normal for Jungkook to kiss so passionately and it doesn't matter if you're a friend or his girlfriend. 

You grabbed your glass and took a big gulp, as if trying to drown out all the thoughts that were spinning in your head. The alcohol burned your throat, but it didn't help. Your heart was still beating faster than usual, and your lips felt too sensitive after Jungkook's kiss.

You tried to join in with your friends' conversation, laughing at the jokes, but your thoughts kept coming back to the kiss. You could feel Jungkook's eyes on you, even though you never caught him in the act. He acted as if nothing had happened, and that pissed you off the most.

When you got up to go to the bar for a new cocktail, Jungkook did the same. You were at the bar almost simultaneously, and while the bartender took the order, silence hung between you.

"I didn't realize you were such a good kisser," he suddenly said, leaning in slightly. His voice was low and playful, but there was something more sparkling in his eyes.

You turned to him, frowning.

"What does this mean?"

Jungkook smiled, propping his chin up with his hand.

"I was just wondering, you were so nervous at the beginning, and then..." he paused, slowly measuring you with his eyes, which made your skin tingle. "And then you answered with such fervor."

You almost choked on the air.

"What about you?" you challenged back, though your voice barely trembled. "Is it common for you to kiss like that? Or did you just decide to practice with me?"

Jungkook smiled. 

"I wanted to know if you knew how to use your tongue. We've been friends for so long, but I don't know anything about your sex life." He explained. You felt your face start to burn.

"You used this situation to just test me?" you pressed your lips together, staring at him with a challenge.

Jungkook hummed, not taking his eyes off you.

"Maybe." He tilted his head slightly, his voice quiet, but every word hit the mark.

You barely stopped yourself from throwing your cocktail in his face.

"You... you're just unbearable!" you hissed, feeling anger begin to boil inside, mixed with something much more dangerous.

Jungkook just smiled as he took his drink.

"But Y/N this was just a game." Jungkook said casually, but you could feel the tension in his tone. He turned around and walked away. You stood there, completely confused and disappointed. 

The next morning you woke up with a terrible hangover. Your head hurt so badly that every sound hurt. You were terribly nauseous and dreamed of water.

You barely crawled out of bed and went to the kitchen. You poured yourself a whole glass of water and drank it in one shot. Anyone who hasn't drunk alcohol doesn't know the value of water! You drank another in the glass of water and went back to the bedroom. You lay down feeling a pounding in your head. 

You picked up your phone and checked your texts. There were a lot of messages in the group chat. Everyone was discussing your kiss with Jungkook last night. 

You frowned as you waded through the dozens of messages in the group chat.

📲 Su Ah: "Well, newlyweds, how did you sleep after such a passionate kiss?😏"

📲 Jimin: "I'm still waiting for the wedding invitation. Or at least an official announcement that you are no longer "just friends 🤭"

📲 Taehyung: "Jungkook, honestly, you looked like you were never to let her go. Were you sure you were in control?"

📲 Su Ah: "And you, Y/N, were keeping up too. A game? Pfft, is this what a game looks like?"

You felt your face flush.

"God..." you groaned, burying your face in the pillow.

It was wildly embarrassing that everyone was talking about it, as if you and Jungkook had actually done something forbidden. But then you noticed Jungkook's response.

📲 Jungkook: "Shut up."

And that was it.

No jokes back. No emoticons. No attempt to brush it off or pretend it wasn't serious.

Something about it made you stare at his message longer than you should have.

Did you even think that those six letters sounded... irritated? Or maybe he was really unhappy that everyone was talking about it?

You bit your lip thoughtfully.

Jungkook was usually the butt of many jokes, and if he thought this was just another prank, he would have responded in the same tone. But he just wrote it down. Briefly. Coldly.

You opened a private chat with him and quickly typed:

📲 You: "Are you alive there?"

No response.

Five minutes have passed. Ten. Twenty.

📲 You:  "Kook?"

He's deaf.

📲 You: "Jungkook?"

📲 You: "Are you okay?"

📲 You: "Kook, are you seriously ignoring me?"

He didn't even read the message.

You felt your chest tighten with anxiety. He didn't usually act like this. Even when he was angry or offended, he might joke or brush you off, but not ignore you.

Sighing, you threw back the covers and went to the shower. You washed quickly. You used dry shampoo to avoid washing your hair. You put on light makeup and tied your hair up in a high bun. You quickly pulled on a hoodie and sneakers and left the apartment. 

"If he's really sitting there pissed off about something stupid, I'm going to kill him," you muttered as you zipped up your bomber.

It took no more than fifteen minutes to get to his house. You knocked on the door. There was no response.

"Jungkook?"

Silence again. You pressed the bell, waited a few seconds, knocked louder.

"Kook, I'm serious! Open up!"

Again, nothing.

Panicking, you pressed your hand against the door. What if something happened to him? Or is he really so offended that he doesn't even want to see you?

"JUNGKOOK!" you almost screamed, slamming your fist into the door.

And then it finally opened sharply.

There stood a sleepy Jungkook, disheveled, wearing only sweatpants, with a naked torso and squinting eyes.

"What are you yelling about?" he muttered in a hoarse, sleepy voice, rubbing his face.

You froze for a moment. He looked so... relaxed, defenseless, not at all like the self-confident Jungkook who had teased you yesterday.

But then you remembered why you were here in the first place.

"You... You're serious? I texted you a bunch, called you, knocked on your door, thinking you were offended or something, and you're asleep?"

He blinked, still clearly not fully awake.

"Well... yeah."

"Jungkook, it's two in the afternoon!"

He yawned and stretched, showing off his well-defined abs.

"I went to bed at seven in the morning."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Then you opened it again.

"What did you do until seven in the morning? We got home at 2 a.m.!"

"I played."

"You played?!"

"Yes, in ‘Overwatch’, there was an important team outing. I couldn't miss it."

"God..." You rolled your eyes. You rubbed your temples, feeling your head start to hurt again. 

He yawned, ran his hand through his hair, and seemed to realize that you were standing in front of him in the hallway.

"Wait, what are you doing here?"

You sighed nervously, looking away.

"Well... I thought you were offended by our friends' jokes... on... well, yesterday..."

Jungkook snorted and shook his head.

"I don't care about their jokes." He answered casually. You felt something unpleasant squeeze your chest.

"Oh... Okay. Then I'll go." You turned around, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed your sleeve lightly.

"Don't be so dramatic." He yawned again. "Come in for now, I'm going to take a quick shower. Then we'll go downstairs to the restaurant and have some hangover soup. It will definitely bring you back to your senses. You obviously haven't eaten yet, because you look just as dead as I do."

You came in and slammed the door behind you. You wanted to argue, but he had already turned around and gone to the bathroom.

You walked into a small hanchib, a traditional Korean restaurant located in a cozy alley near Jungkook's house. The place smelled like broth, roasted sesame seeds, and fresh vegetables. You sat down at a low wooden table by the window.

Jungkook quickly placed your order without even asking you what you wanted - he already knew. Soon, the waiter brought hyeangguk, a traditional hangover soup that was supposed to help you recover from last night. Along with it, kimchi, scrambled eggs with rice, pickled vegetables, and warm ginger tea were placed on the table.

Your stomach was uncomfortably tight, and the tension between you was almost physical. You were sitting across from each other, and although Jungkook looked completely relaxed-slightly disheveled from his shower, wearing a white T-shirt and sweatpants-you could sense that something was... off.

When the food came, he started eating, and you just mechanically stirred the soup with a spoon, licking your lips as if you were going to say something. Then you couldn't stand it any longer.

"It's strange, isn't it?" you began from a distance, not looking up. "We've been friends for years, and then one kiss and everyone decided that there was something between us."

Jungkook didn't even look up, just smiled and put his spoon to his lips.

"Why are you think, that everyone thought like that?"

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to continue:

"It's just... they keep saying it.  You've seen their chat room jokes..."

Jungkook put down his spoon, sighed, and finally looked up at you. His eyes were calm, even a little indifferent.

"Why are you worried? They always have stupid jokes about us. And this kiss is just a game."

You felt something inside you clench.

"Just a game," you repeated, looking down at your plate. 

Why did those words hurt so much?

"All is right," Jungkook picked up his spoon again and continued eating as if nothing had happened. "We're still friends, and we'll continue to be friends."

He said it so lightly, so carefree, as if your kiss really meant nothing to him. As if you only imagined the warmth, the frantic rhythm of your heart that you felt when his lips touched yours. 

You fool! You were the only one who thought it was special. Of course it means nothing to him. 

You felt something shrink inside you. These were words you probably needed to hear. But for some reason, they were not what you wanted. You suddenly felt dizzy. Your appetite disappeared completely.

"I see," you whispered, putting down your spoon, "Kook, I'm going to go. I have to go to my sister's house. 

You stood up and took out your wallet to pay for the food you hadn't even touched. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, leaning forward slightly.

"Why are you taking out money...? You haven't eaten? he pointed out. 

"I'm still sick from the alcohol," you said, half-truthfully. 

You took out the money and put it on the table. There was no point in staying here, no point in discussing anything.

Jungkook said something else, but you didn't listen, you just turned around and walked out, feeling a strange warmth spreading in your chest. Was it anger? Or perhaps something much worse.

Two weeks have passed.

You tried to live as if nothing had happened. You worked, went out with friends, even started going to parties more often. You also avoided Jungkook. Very carefully. After you kissed him, you couldn't stop thinking about him. But you had to. Because he didn't care and that kiss meant nothing to him. 

He could see that. And even though he was acting as casual as usual, you noticed that his eyes were staying on you longer, that he seemed to want to say something, but didn't.

And then there was that weekend when you all got together again at the club.

You carefully avoided Jungkook, talked to everyone, and gave him only a limited amount of attention. And when you realized that his eyes were following you, you were annoyed. You decided you had to meet someone tonight to shift your focus to someone else. 

You met a guy while dancing. His name was Minho. He was cute, funny, and a little bit cocky - just what you needed right now.

You laughed at his jokes, touched his arm, looked him in the eye as if he were the most interesting person in the club. And then you invited him to your table.

Everyone warmly welcomed him. A few of his friends joined your company and you had a great time. Jungkook was the only one who was unhappy with the company that night. He watched all of this without changing his expression. He was angry, but he carefully hid it behind a completely indifferent expression. But Jimin noticed.

"Don't be so angry," he said as they stood outside for a smoke break.

"I'm not angry," Jungkook said, taking a deep breath. Jimin hummed.

"Yeah, and that look you're giving Minho is just friendly interest, right?"

Jungkook didn't answer.

But every day you were getting more and more distant. You stopped writing to him first. And when he did write to you, your answers were short.

📲 Jungkook: "What are you doing?"

📲 You: "Walking with Minho."

📲 Jungkook: "Do you want to go to a café?"

📲 You: "I can't, I'm with Minho, we're eating samgyopsal."

He was angry that you were always with that "new friend" now. He was annoyed that this Minho touched you, made you laugh. What if you start dating? What if he told you that you and Jungkook shouldn't talk to each other?

But when he texted you the next day, you just ignored his message.

You didn't reply for a whole day.

And then in the evening, he saw in your stories that you were going on a trip with Minho. For a few days.

Jungkook's mind was blown. He came to see you. You were surprised to see him at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Are you going on a trip? With him?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yes, I am. What's the big deal?" you asked, irritated.

"Are you serious? What's the big deal?" he walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. 

"Jungkook, I don't understand what your problem is... This is my personal business," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"What's wrong with you, Y/N? You ignore me, you don't answer my texts, and then I see you going to the middle of nowhere with some Minho"

"Some Minho?" you flashed your eyes angrily. "Do you really care? You pushed me away first!"

"What?"

"After that kiss..." you gasped in anger, "I couldn't sleep properly, I couldn't see you properly, I was torn! And you... You just didn't care! And now you come here and protest about Minho?"

"You're not going with him!" Jungkook said firmly. You stared at him. 

"What?! Are you out of your mind?! What gives you the right to make decisions for me? You're just my friend, and you've been fine with that until now!" Jungkook was silent. He just looked at you. 

"I won't let you go with him." You clenched your fists angrily, feeling everything boiling inside.

"This is too much, Jungkook!" You took a step toward him, your eyes flashing lightning. "This is definitely not your concern! You are not my brother or boyfri…" You stopped talking, realizing that you didn't know what he was to you.

"Just get out!" you pushed him in the chest.

But he didn't leave. He abruptly grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him.

"Jungkook, I said..."

His lips covered yours.

This kiss was not like the one in the club. That wasn’t a game. This was an explosion.

He kissed you greedily, as if he was afraid you would disappear. His arms were tight around your waist, and his heart was pounding so hard you could feel it. You should have pushed him away. But instead, you responded. Your hand clutched his T-shirt, and then your arms reached for his neck and you wrapped them around it. 

Jungkook exhaled hotly against your lips before biting into them again, this time even more insistently. It was as if he was testing how far he could go. His fingers squeezed your hips, forcing you to cling to him even harder.

"Jungkook..." you tried to protest, but his tongue penetrated your mouth, and all words dissolved in a hot kiss.

He took a step forward, forcing you to back away until your back was against the wall.

"Tell me to stop," his voice was husky, his breath hot on your skin.

You swallowed. But you didn't say anything.

Jungkook looked at your face, his lips barely touching yours again, but this time the kiss was slow, almost gentle.

His hands, which had just been greedy, were now gentle. He ran his fingers down your cheek, along your jawline, then to your neck.

"Answer me," he leaned closer, his lips sliding down to your ear and then down to the sensitive spot on your neck.

You barely held back a moan as he left a hot, wet trail there.

"Jungkook..." your hands tightened around his shoulders.

"Is that a ‘yes’?" he smiled, his voice dark and husky.

You didn't answer again, but pulled him even closer to you.

His laughter vibrated against your skin before he captured your lips again in a deep, hungry kiss.

Jungkook moaned out loud as your fingers slid over his bare skin beneath his T-shirt. His muscles tensed, and his lips became even more insistent, opening you deeper, more greedily.

He dug his hands into your hips and lifted you up sharply, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. Your back hit the door, but you hardly felt it because his lips were already leaving hot marks on your neck.

"Do you still want me to leave?" his voice merged with your heavy breathing.

You ran your fingers through his dark hair, pulling him closer.

"Shut up."

Jungkook smiled and abruptly picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed and hovered over you, holding your wrist above your head. His eyes were dark, almost black, and something dangerous was burning in them.

"You drove me crazy, you know?" he whispered, letting his lips slide down over your collarbone and then down even further. His hands finally got rid of your T-shirt, causing the air to burn your bare skin. Following the T-shirt, he removed your bra in one motion. Your naked breasts made him even more excited. They are perfect. The size is exactly what he likes, they fit perfectly in his palm. Your nipples are excited and he want to taste them. 

You felt him smile as his lips left a wet trail on one of your buds. Jungkook lingered on your breast with his lips, tracing the sensitive nipple with his tongue, and then caught it with his lips, gently but challengingly. He knew what he was doing, and he enjoyed your reactions-you shivered, clutched his hair, dug your nails into his skin.

"So sensitive," he murmured, biting one of your breasts reassuringly, while massaging the other with his other hand, "If you could only see how much you turn me on right now..."

"Kook..." you arched your back as his fingers, so strong, so sure, slid over your body, making you tremble with every touch.

"Shhhh," he covered your mouth with his lips, muffling all your words, but not changing what you both already realized.

This is not just a game anymore. This is something else entirely.

His fingers slowly slid down, causing an uncontrollable wave of desire to rise in you. He watched your every reaction, as if he were studying you anew-with the same rapt obsession he'd been trying to hide all these weeks.

"You made me angry," his hot whisper burned your skin, "I couldn't bear the thought of you with anyone else..."

Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips brushing over your ear, making you shiver.

"I wish I could say I don't care, but..." he pressed his body against you, and you felt how true that was.

His hands no longer hesitated. He studied you eagerly, making your breath catch with each new touch.

"Jungkook..." you squeezed his shoulders as if trying to keep control, but he just laughed in a low, raspy voice.

"What, baby? Do you have something to say now?"

Your body flexed under his touch, every movement a response to what he was doing to you.

"Tell me just one thing..." his lips stopped at your neck, leaving a hot trail. "Do you want me to stop?"

His eyes were full of expectation, desire, but he was really waiting for your permission.

You caught his gaze, and in that moment something clicked inside you.

"No. Don't stop."

Jungkook didn't see any point in delaying what he was already going to do. He towered over you and pulled off his shirt. You eagerly studied his body. It was so perfect. Too good to be real. 

He threw you a playful smile and reached for your sweatpants. He gently lifted your hips, pulling them down. You were left with only your underwear. You were wearing black ones fishnet thong. Jungkook raised an eyebrow. Too hot underwear to be alone at home. He grabbed the edge and played with it without pulling it down. 

"Were you expecting someone with such underwear?"

You could barely swallow, your heart beating furiously in your chest. Jungkook took his time. His fingers played with the thin fabric of your thong, gently running along the edge and then letting go, making the fabric click lightly against your skin. He smiled as he watched you tense up under his touch.

"Maybe I shouldn't take them off," he whispered, leaning closer, licking your lower lip before biting it lightly.

His hand slowly moved down between your legs, deliberately touching you as if to tease you. His fingers slid lightly over the thin fabric, assessing how wet you were already.

"Fuck... You feel that?" his voice was deep, almost hoarse with desire, "You're shaking... I make you so leak?"

You didn't have time to answer, because he abruptly pulled off your underwear, leaving you completely naked in front of him. His gaze darkened even more when he finally saw you without any obstacles.

"There's really no point in hiding now, baby," he slid his hands down your parted thighs, licking his lips, "I want to fuck you. I want fucking you right now."

But suddenly, somewhere in the living room, you heard the sharp sound of an incoming call. Your phone. 

Jungkook grimaced as he pulled away from you, his fingers still clutching your skin as if he wasn't going to let go.

"Do you want to take it?" his voice sounded hoarse, slightly irritated.

You glanced at the door to the room and then lay back down. 

"It's probably Minho... We were supposed to talk today..." You said awkwardly. 

Those words seemed to be the trigger. Before you could even say anything else, Jungkook abruptly pulled your attention back to him. His grip on your hips tightened, and a shadow of dangerous determination appeared in his eyes.

"Minho?" He smiled, but it wasn't a good smile.

His hands went lower, making you inhale sharply, and then, without giving you a chance to answer, he covered your lips with his. The kiss was harder, more dominant, as if he was trying to erase even the memory of the other man.

The phone continued to ring in the living room, but now you didn't care.

Jungkook pulled away for a second, his fingers sliding down your stomach, right down.

"Answer the phone if it's so important," he whispered, touching your pussy. You just squeezed him by the shoulders, realizing that you just couldn't talk now. Jungkook smiled again, victoriously. "I thought so." He pulled away from you, sitting comfortably between your legs. The phone was ringing, but neither of you cared. 

Jungkook touched his tongue to the most sensitive point between your legs... Your body twitched as his proficient tongue slid over you, wet and demanding. Jungkook inhaled your scent with pleasure, and then ran his tongue over your most sensitive spot again, leaving hot, sweet torment on your skin.

"You have no idea how much your taste drives me crazy..." he moaned, wrapping his strong hands around your hips so you couldn't move away, "So sweet..."

He dug his tongue into you, gently biting and sucking, making you shudder with every movement. You were breathing heavily, feeling electric waves running through your body. Your back arched as he slipped a finger into you, and then another, moving slowly inside, stretching you out beneath to him.

"That's it... You feel that, baby?" his voice was so low and excited that you could barely contain your moan.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging, making him press his lips harder against yours.

"Jungkook... please..."

He lifted his head, licked his lips, looking at you with a smug smile.

"Please what, baby?" his voice was mocking, but his eyes were dark with desire.

You couldn't get a word out because he bent down again, pushing you to the edge with his skillful movements. 

Jungkook didn't give you a second to breathe. His hands easily flipped you over onto your stomach, and you barely had time to prop yourself up on your elbows before he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer. His hot breath burned your back, and his lips left a wet trail from your shoulder to the base of your spine.

"You don't even know how much I want you right now..." he whispered, and then lightly bit your shoulder, making you flinch.

He ran his hand down your back, sliding it down until it rested on your hips. His fingers squeezed your skin hard and then pulled sharply on you, making you sag even more.

"Now I can fully see how beautiful you are..." his voice sounded so low and hoarse that you felt yourself shivering again.

He touched you again with his tongue, but this time from behind, making you moan louder than you wanted. His hands pulled you even wider, giving you no chance to hide from him.

"Kook..." you moaned, pressing your forehead against the pillow, trying to get a little bit of control.

But he had no intention of stopping. He took you by the hips and forced you to kneel down, leaning on your hands. His lips, tongue, fingers - everything worked together to drive you crazy.

And you had an orgasm. A wave of pleasant sensation went through your body. Your clitoris twitched, signaling that you had enjoyed yourself. Jungkook pulled away from you, but you were lying on your stomach breathing heavily into the pillow. 

You were still in the throes of orgasm when you felt Jungkook lie on top of you, his bulge pressing against your naked buttocks. He touched his lips to your ear, biting it lightly. He gave a thrust and you felt how hard he was. 

"Do you think I'm done?" his voice sounded dull, but there was a predatory undertone to it. 

Before you could answer, you felt him push into you again, not giving you time to breathe. 

"Just lie there." He ordered. You felt yourself getting wet again. The mattress under Jungkook's body bent. He got out of bed. He was gone for less than half a minute, but it felt like you had been waiting for him forever. You raised your head to see where he was, but he had already climbed back on the bed. 

You wanted to look at him, but Jungkook was behind you. You felt his legs move to the sides of your hips. You felt his cock rest on your buttocks. You squeezed the blanket in anticipation of him filling you with his length. 

Jungkook found your hole and put two fingers in it again. He stretched you so that you could accept him. He smeared the moisture on your clit and folds and then grabbed your hips, lifting them slightly. You could feel him pushing the head of his cock against your entrance and then pressing in. 

He went slowly, stretching your walls. It hurt. He was too big for you. When Jungkook heard your painful sound, he stopped. He came out, then plunged in again. You could feel him twitching. His hand stroked your thighs, as if to soothe you. 

Jungkook went on and hurt you again. But he didn't stop until he was completely inside you. He let out a low moan behind you. You tried to get used to his length. The pain quickly passed, giving way to bliss. 

Jungkook froze, breathing heavily. His hot fingers held your hips tightly, and your body barely restrained itself from moving.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." he groaned again as he felt you clench around him.

He ran his palms along your back, stroking gently, letting you get used to him. His warm breath burned your skin, and you felt his lips leave a hot kiss between your shoulder blades.

"Now... can you take me completely?" his voice was low and strained, as if he was struggling to contain himself.

You barely managed to squeeze out a 'yes', and that was enough. Jungkook began to move, slowly at first, as if stretching out the pleasure, and then his thrusts became deeper, more confident. He held you tight, making you feel every inch of his body.

"God, you're perfect..." he groaned, picking up his pace.

You couldn't hold longer. He sensed this and couldn't help but smile smugly. And then he lay down on top of you. He pressed his strong body against yours and you felt how hot you were together. The room became hot. From your sounds, from your passion. 

Jungkook suddenly slowed down. His movements became smooth but confident, he was enjoying every second of it, making you press your buttocks against him tighter. 

"Damn..." you moaned as he clasped your fingers and linked your hands above your head, completely subduing you.

He smiled as he leaned down to your neck, leaving hot kisses as his hips continued their rhythmic thrusts. His wet lips moved lower until they rested on your shoulders. He adored this moment - when you completely dissolved in his touch.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you submit to me..." he groaned, picking up his pace again, making you squeal with pleasure once more.

His hands went down to your thighs, pulling them up like this, giving him the opportunity to enter even deeper. You couldn't stop your moans, your body was on fire with pleasure, and he wasn't going to stop.

"You know this isn't over, right?" he slapped your ass lightly, making your body shudder with mixed emotions - shame, passion, desire.

Jungkook slapped your ass again, harder this time, making your body shudder. You felt him pulling out of you and were about to groan in frustration, but he quickly grabbed you by the waist and flipped you onto your back. His dark, aroused eyes caught your gaze.

"I want to see your face when you cum again..." he whispered hotly, running his tongue over your lips. 

Now you were lying on your back, your tangled hair scattered across the pillow, and he was hovering over you, gazing into your face.

His hands confidently spread your legs again. You finally saw him completely naked. His cock was hard and straight. It was big. No wonder you were in pain. The head of his cock was purple and dripping with semen. Jungkook took his length in his hands, and then he entered you in one quick motion. You threw your head back, breathing out his name, and he just smiled smugly.

Jungkook pinned your arms to the bed, not allowing you to move. He set a new pace, slow but deep, making you feel him completely. His eyes were fixed on your face, studying your every reaction, catching every sound that escaped your lips.

"So good..." he whispered, leaning down to kiss you.

His lips were greedy, demanding, as if he wanted to taste you completely. His hands went down to your hips again, to lifting them a little higher, changing the angle.

You felt him go even deeper, making you arch with pleasure.

"Do you feel how well you accept me?" he looked directly into your eyes, and this look made you feel even more overwhelmed.

His hands went under your knees, spreading them wider, allowing him to penetrate even deeper. Every thrust he made drove you into ecstasy, making you feel him with every fiber of your being.

"That's it, baby... Can you feel me? Can you feel me filling you up?" his words drove you even more crazy.

You could only moan, because you had no more strength to speak.

Jungkook leaned in, catching your lips in a deep kiss as his movements became even more rigid.

"I want you to cum with me..." he groaned, squeezing your waist as if he was afraid you might run away.

His hands held you tightly, he moved faster, deeper, continuously igniting a new wave of pleasure in you.

"Cum for me, baby..." he whispered against your lips, speeding up his pace.

Your body trembled, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You squeezed his cock and let out a loud moan, unable to hold back the pleasure in your middle.And that's when he came too, letting himself lose control, leaving traces of his cum on your stomach.

Jungkook and you were breathing heavily. He rested his head on your shoulderbone, still lying on top of you. His hot breath burned your skin. You felt both you and Jungkook sweating. 

Jungkook didn't move, just lay on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You could feel his heartbeat - fast, powerful, as frantic as your own.

He slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes gazing into yours, still a little blurred with passion.

"Are you... are you okay?" his voice was hoarse, with a slight smile, but his eyes shone with concern.

You ran your fingers down his back, scratching it a little, and felt him flinch.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to walk after this," you exhaled mockingly.

Jungkook laughed softly and finally raised his head to look you in the eye. His hair was tousled, his lips were swollen, and his gaze... that gaze could drive you crazy.

"Then we'll have to stay in bed," his fingers gently brushed your cheek.

He slowly pulled out of you, making you tremble with hypersensitivity. He insisted that you go and shower and wash off the remnants of his sperm. And you did. You struggled to get up and went to the bathroom. You went to the toilet and then took a quick shower. When you came out, Jungkook was lying on your bed, with the blanket only covering his thighs. He smiled at you and called you to lie down next to him. And when lay down next to you, he pulling you closer to him.

For several minutes you just lay there in silence. Jungkook holds you, his fingers lazily drawing circles on your stomach. 

"It was..." he paused, as if searching for words, "It was more than just sex. You realize that, right?"

You didn't know what to say. It was more than that? Yes, it was. But what do you call it?

"Jungkook..." you tried to say something, but he only held you tighter, not letting you escape from this conversation.

"I'm serious," his voice was quiet but firm, "You felt the same way, right?"

You looked away. Your heart was pounding, and you didn't know if you were ready to admit it.

"This changed everything," he continued, leaning down to place a light kiss on your shoulder, "and you know it.”

You tightened your fingers on the sheets.

"But... what if we just..." you trailed off.

"Just what?" his eyes flashed and his jaw tensed.

"If it's just a physical..." you barely finished before he abruptly turned you on your back and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Do you really think so?" he leaned closer, and his gaze became dangerous.

You couldn't answer. Because you knew the truth. It was more than just a physical connection. It was much deeper than that.

"Shit..." he pressed his lips together as if trying not to say too much, and then he kissed you hard, making you forget all your doubts.

His lips demanded an answer, and you couldn't resist.

"I can't treat you the way I used to," he murmured between kisses, "and I don't want to."

"Okay, then let's try," you asked cautiously. Jungkook smiled. His eyes lit up with something dangerous, and he squinted slyly.

"Let's try?" he repeated, as if savoring the word on his tongue. "Baby, this has long been planned"

You wanted to argue, but Jungkook leaned closer, forcing you to lean back against the pillows.

"You do realize that you'll have to text your new friend and cancel the trip with him," his fingers slid gently over your cheek, "and then you'll have to stop talking to him altogether..."

You blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"You heard me perfectly," Jungkook tilted his head to the side, watching your reaction.

You snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Why is that?"

"Because I told you to," he shrugged, as if it were obvious.

"Kook..." you rolled your eyes, but before you could add anything, he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled you sharply against him.

"Don't roll your eyes, baby," his voice lowered and his fingers dug deeper into your skin, "I could see exactly what this Minho wants from you and why he asked you to go with him!"

You sighed.

"Oh, God..."

"Yes, that's him," Jungkook smiled smugly, ignoring your irony, "and he's clearly not averse to taking my place."

"Kook, there's nothing between us!" you tried to pull away, but he only squeezed you tighter in his arms.

"And there won't be," he replied calmly, running his fingers down your back, "because you have me now."

"You're acting like a real owner," you muttered, feeling your heart pounding faster and faster.

"Because I am," Jungkook smiled cheekily, making you blush, "and I own you too."

You sighed, burying your face in his neck.

"You're unbearable."

"And you're insanely sexy when you try to argue with me," he playfully bit your ear, "but don't try because I always win."

Jungkook suddenly flipped you onto your back, hovering over you so that your breath was mixed. His dark eyes glittered with something dangerous, and his lips barely touched yours, making your heart clench in anticipation.

"Let's get one thing straight," his voice was low, with the same confident tone that always made you tremble, "I'm not jealous..."

You could barely contain an ironic smile, not wanting to go along with him so quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," your voice sounded just as sarcastic, but it only made him squint predatory.

"...I'm just absolutely against any Minho hanging around my girlfriend."

You felt a warmth spread somewhere in your stomach, but Jungkook didn't even give you time to process his words.

"Your... girlfriend?"

He leaned in closer, his warm breath sliding across your lips, making you forget what you were about to say.

"Oh, do you hear what that sounds like?" his fingers slid lightly along your waist.

You might have said something witty if it weren't for the heat that began to rise in waves from his touch.

"But I haven't heard a formal offer to be your girlfriend!"

His lips stretched into a familiar, cocky smile.

"Do I need to say it? We just had sex, you screamed my name, and now you're lying under my hot, satisfied body. What needs to offered?"

Your face instantly flashed, and you instinctively punched him in the chest, although it didn't do much good-he didn't even flinch.

"Jungkook."

"I'm just stating the facts, baby," his eyes sparkled with dangerous sparks.

"It doesn't work that way!"

"Okay, then I'm officially asking you: are you mine?" He looked confidently directly into your eyes, and you felt your heart rise to your throat.

"What if I say no?"

This answer was a pure challenge, and Jungkook seemed to be waiting for it.

"Oh, then I'll have to convince you..." his hands closed confidently on your hips, forcing you to move a little closer to him.

His eyes flashed with excitement, and his fingers gripped you as if he had no plans to let go.

"Very, very convincing." You smiled slyly, deliberately resting your hands on his chest. "Give me a minute to think..."

"Think fast, because I'm already determined to prove my point in practice." His voice dropped a tone lower, and his fingers began to descend dangerously slowly down your sides.

You sighed, as if thinking, and then spoke slyly.

"What if I told you that Minho is really cute..."

Jungkook's face changed dramatically, as if you had just said something disgusting.

"Cute?"

"And he has such kind eyes..."

"Kind?" He almost spat the word, and his grip on your hips tightened.

"And he's always so polite..."

"Okay, that's enough," his voice became dangerously calm, and his eyes went dark.

Before you could even squeak, you suddenly found yourself under him. Jungkook climbed on top of you, sitting comfortably between your legs. You felt his cock pressing against your pussy.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking away your thoughts of all the other men," his lips moved to your neck, leaving hot, possessive kisses.

"Oh, God..."

"Yeah, and this time you won't be able to think about that what's-his-name anymore..."

"Minho?"

His fingers digging into your thighs.

"Don't say that name in front of me!"

His lips burned your skin, and his breathing became even more labored. Jungkook seemed to be throwing lightning bolts, his hands gripping your hips with a clear claim of ownership.

"I'll make you forget his name," his voice was low, husky, full of jealousy and desire.

He leaned down, sliding his lips down, leaving hot traces of his kisses on you. His fingers traced a line along your stomach, making you shudder with anticipation.

"Say my name," he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn't help but moan.

"Jungkook..."

"Again." His movements became more determined, more demanding, and you could only obey.

"Jungkook!" Your body arched under him, and he exhaled in satisfaction, finally convinced that there was only one person in your head.

"That's it, baby," he raised his head and looked directly into your eyes, "Now be a good girl and never make me jealous again.

His lips found yours again, erasing all doubts, all thoughts, everything but him.

[morlock-holmes]

The Conspiratorial Mindset

So, I've always had a bit of an interest in scams and hokum, and what people call "Cults".

One of the common refrains when you talk about religious Cults is, "If you think about it all religions have beliefs that seem odd to outsiders" and this is true, but as I read more about cults I started to think,

"Wait, a lot of these groups aren't united just by having unusual religious or supernatural views; a lot of them also seem to have matching patterns of behaviors that have nothing to do with belief in psychic space aliens"

I'm talking about things like,

Having a leadership structure which is absolute, where the top leaders cannot be disciplined or even openly criticized by lower members;

Exerting tremendous control over the dress and behavior of adherents;

Telling adherents that outsiders are untrustworthy and that contact with outsiders should be strictly limited and heavily monitored by organizational leadership;

The extensive and common use of shunning and reprogramming in response to violation of any of the above rules.

In some groups, failing to adhere to the dress code and spending a lot of time with outsiders is, at worst, the subject of a few little jabs at family gatherings. In other groups, those same behaviors are treated as Defcon one crises and become the central issue of the adherent's relationship with everybody else in the organization until they can be bullied back into doing the organization's bidding.

It was gratifying to learn that other people have noticed these patterns (Some people prefer the term "High Control Group" to "Cult" because it highlights what the actual problem is)

I am starting to notice similar dynamics in what are commonly called "Conspiracy theories".

The thing about conspiracy theories is... Well, conspiracies exist, and sometimes groups of powerful people get together to do something in secret which would get them in big trouble if they were to do it openly.

But I am starting to notice a particular, I don't know, a particular way of conceptualizing the organization and purpose of conspiracies which is unique to some people and which characterizes the kind of conspiracy theorist who takes Alex Jones seriously.

I kind of think of it as a "Witch-Hunting mentality".

For certain people in more primitive times and places, if they, say, slipped off a ladder and hurt themselves, their first thought would be, "That must have happened because a witch cursed me. We need to find and punish the witch who cursed me."

And this isn't just the attribution of malice that characterizes this idea:

One malicious conspiracy that might make you fall off a ladder is a manufacturer who doesn't care about safety ratings. Imagine that the manufacturer is really deliberately malicious here. A subordinate comes to him and says, "Our ladders can't reliably hold the weight of a person and a lot of them will probably break and cause people to fall and hurt themselves." and he says, "I know that but who cares, by the time people figure it out it'll be too late to get their money back."

That's a malicious conspiracy, but, importantly, if Bob buys a faulty ladder and falls off, the conspiracy wasn't trying to hurt Bob; it merely didn't care whether Bob got hurt.

Now, this distinction doesn't take away the malice and hostility towards Bob, but if you go to the ladder manufacturer and say, "Hey boss, Bob bought one of our faulty ladders, but he's really skinny so the ladder didn't break" the manufacturer will go, "Who the fuck is Bob? And good, that's one less angry person."

Whereas imagine Bob's ladder has been cursed to break by a witch. The witch did it because she hates Bob, and wants him to fall, and if she finds out he didn't fall, she'll go, "Curses, I'll have to find some other way to hurt Bob."

Conspiracy theorists, it seems to me, are far more inclined to conceptualize conspiracies as acts of deliberate malice aimed at them rather than acts of negligent malice.

@loving-n0t-heyting posted this article from the New York Post which contains a good example of what I mean:

“I thought I was on the cutting edge of promoting rights for gay people,” Yang said. “But then I started looking deeper into where this was coming from and who was paying for it, and I started to get very disillusioned...

I assume the people paying for it are LGBT advocacy groups? Did you, uh, not know that the people you were working for were paying you to work for them?

“When you really dig down you can see how much of this comes from documents and plans at the United Nations,” Yang said, referring in part to the UN’s “Gender Equality” initiative. “It’s part of a global agenda to restructure society, re-structure our social norms and the economy,” Yang claimed. “They are undermining the sexually dimorphic nature of reality and breaking down the differences between the sexes to break down our identity. They are constructing identities for us and they want us to adopt them.”

Oh, I see.

This is exactly what I mean. LGBT rights efforts make Yang and others feel disoriented, like society is being restructured and that they are being left behind, like they aren't quite in control of social norms and that stable identity categories can't be relied on anymore.

Now, one kind of conservative might look at that and say, "These are bad second order effects of LGBT people trying to assert their lifestyle in public and that's why we should oppose them."

But another kind says, "These changes make me feel unstable. Therefore, the main purpose of the changes is to make me feel unstable. In order to understand these changes, I need to figure out who wants me to feel unstable and what they would gain from making me feel unstable."

The idea that Yang's feeling of instability is simply a side effect of a series of efforts mainly focused on LGBT rights is incomprehensible. Instead, she believes that there is a series of efforts focused mainly on making her feel unstable, with LGBT rights as a kind of side effect to the main goal of making her feel unstable.

This kind of thing is, to me, a big red flag that indicates that we are starting to float away from reasonable conspiracy thinking into crazy town.

I am particularly curious if folks can recommend any writers or researchers who have noticed this dynamic.

[adore-laur]

in one of your pieces it’s briefly mentioned that the first time they had sex after she gives birth it was really uncomfortable and not good and i was wondering if you’d ever write that ? i love the idea of sex not always being perfect especially after going weeks without it

PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

——

There was a sexual suggestiveness about the toothpick poking from Harry's mouth, and its effect on you could only be attributed to your severe case of sleep deprivation. It was a stupid piece of wood, and yet how it was framed between his plush lips sent prickles of heat surging down your neck and spine. On second thought, perhaps it was the apron tied around his waist as he dipped ripe strawberries in melted chocolate for a Valentine's Day dessert—his long fingers working with skillful precision, the sleeves of his tight long-sleeve shirt rolled up, the romantic gesture of it all. No, maybe it was the baby sling wrapped around his shoulder that held your four-month-old daughter, who was watching his every move. God, and the way he was murmuring to her each step of what he was doing definitely contributed to your rising libido. It was a sight you were still getting used to. More remarkably, it validated your years-long yearning to have children with him.

If humble swagger existed, it came in the form of how Harry carried himself as a father. The casual way he interacted with your baby was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Walking around the house with her on his hip, going about his daily routine. Always willing to step in to give you a moment to relax. He was dependable, and you cursed your hormones for reacting so rabidly to it.

Maybe the changes your mind and body had gone through were catching up. After months, you finally felt healed from the physical wounds of giving birth. No more stitches or soreness down below. No more bleeding.

Your desire for sex was... almost normal again. You were being a bit sheepish about initiating anything, so you sincerely hoped the hunger in your eyes was communicating to Harry what you couldn't say verbally. The problem, however, was that Harry was too enamored with your little girl to notice your longing gaze. She was the center of his universe now, and you couldn't blame him for orbiting her radiance. She brought a certain euphoria to each day.

You rested your chin on the back of the couch where you observed them and inhaled the sweet scent of chocolate. It was quiet moments like these, where baby cries paused, that warmed your soul. You took time to appreciate the beauty of home, with its familiar waves and friendly birds. The creak of the floorboards and the color of the walls. The rumble of your husband's voice and his gentle presence. And most lovely of all, the adorable coos coming from the life you created.

Your eyes shifted over to the kitchen table, where a tall glass vase with flowers sat. You had woken up this morning to Harry helping your daughter hold a pretty bouquet of peonies to present to you. It came with a note that read, You make our hearts bloom. We love you.

Life was chaotic lately, yet so very blissful.

Harry was humming now as he threw the toothpick away and set the dipped strawberries in the fridge to harden. The plump red flesh encased in delectable chocolate made your mouth water. Such a simple recipe, yet somehow Harry made them taste better than a gourmet baker ever could.

He shut the fridge and moved to the sink to wash his hands. He must have sensed your gaze because he looked over his shoulder and smiled. Just the sight of him in this new role caused a swell of emotion to crash against your chest and crack your heart open.

"I've got an audience," he remarked.

You just stared at his hands supporting your daughter's small body—beautiful, sculpted, and what you had been missing desperately on your skin. It was embarrassing to admit that ever since giving birth, the closest you and Harry had gotten to any sexual intimacy was dry humping. Even then, your stitches had still been healing, so the experience was never quite satisfactory. It was no surprise that you were growing impatient.

"What?" Harry asked, noticing your strange silence.

"Nothing," you murmured, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckled and walked over to you. "You're blushing."

Your palms flew to your cheeks. "I am?"

"Big time. Are you feeling okay?"

"I... yes, I'm just"—you fanned your overheated face—"feeling a lot of things right now."

His brows scrunched together. Men were so lucky not to experience the rollercoaster of female hormones. You would sound asinine if you attempted to explain why your body was responding to him doing nothing but being a good father.

"I'm stressing you out," Harry stated as a guess.

"No, not at all."

"You're having a hot flash," he guessed again.

Groaning, you dropped your head face-first onto the couch and mumbled, "I need sex."

"Say it again, please?"

You lifted your head and avoided contact as you repeated, "I need sex. I'm healed, and I want to take advantage of this urge before it goes away." Because it would. Your hormones were still regularizing post-birth, so you weren't going to count on getting your libido back to complete normalcy. Instead, you would pounce on the open opportunities.

Harry contemplated your confession for a while, making no show of judgment. "Any blood?" he asked.

"Nope."

"And the stitches?"

"They're dissolved. Can't even tell I pushed a nearly ten-pound baby out."

He smiled, albeit cautiously. "But how do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Harry," you assured. "If you're not feeling it, we don't have to do anything. Just, you know, giving you the green light."

A shadow of sincerity passed over his face. "Who said I'm not feeling it?" You shrugged, and he gently grabbed your chin to raise it. "Look at me." His green eyes held your gaze steadily. "You wanna try?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I miss you."

"You have me," he said resolutely. "All of me, tonight."

"Oh," you said, not expecting him to jump on board so eagerly.

"Let's shoot for eight o'clock. When the little one goes to bed."

You broke out into a giggle. "So... a sex appointment."

Now it was his turn to blush. "I heard scheduling sex is supposed to help new parents reconnect."

A rush of heat spread to the tips of your fingers. You thought of the multiple instances when you and Harry consolidated spontaneity and sex. It often sprung upon you without warning, like a carnal beast clawing at your skin. And it always involved mutual desire, like a burning ball of tension the size of the sun. The house was memory-stained with reminders of all the ways your body had been worshiped. Over by the kitchen island, Harry had held you captive with his hips pressed flush against yours. The bay window in the living room had sometimes been blemished with handprints. But the bed in which you sleep and wake up to him every morning was where long, intense sessions happened. Harry slowly sliding into you during weekend sleep-ins, providing a warmth and fullness so heavenly. Late-night quickies after being away from each other all day, a little messy yet perfect all the same. Hell, you had even done it in the ocean under the moon. You wanted nothing more than to find that natural groove again.

"Okay." You reached out to squeeze his bicep. "I believe you."

"All right," he replied in the deep, sensual tone he reserved for intimate conversations like these. You looked downward, feeling giddy. Within milliseconds, Harry planted a hot, heavy kiss on your lips before walking away.

With the way your heart fluttered, one would think you had just met him. But you knew his body exclusively, as he knew yours, and tonight would be a test.

——

You stood in the doorway of your closet, sifting through the three pairs of lingerie you owned. They were lacy little one-pieces in off-white, powder blue, and red. It was doubtful they would fit like they used to, but you craved wearing something other than baggy sweats and Harry's shirts. While it gave you pride that you grew life, an insecurity still planted its pesky seed inside. You hadn't looked at your bare body in the mirror since, honestly, you didn't have a clue. It would never look the same again, especially considering you didn't plan to only have one child.

There was a nervous tremor in your hands as you took the red lingerie off its hanger—a slimming color to hide the loose, extra skin that still remained postpartum. You thought about Harry and how he liked to strip away every last piece of fabric blocking him from his touch. Even before pregnancy, during sex, you had never felt the need to accentuate your physicality with frilly, feminine garments. Harry took you in just about anything. Unfortunately, as new parents, there was simply not enough time or energy to initiate anything more than mediocre makeouts. You felt foolish for even bringing up the prospect of sex earlier. Now there was an expectation, and you couldn't guarantee you wouldn't chicken out.

Why were you so jittery? He was your husband, for crying out loud. There was no one you felt more comfortable around.

With a huff, you started undressing yourself just as the sound of the blow dryer stopped. Harry would be ready any minute for this supposed sex appointment. Meanwhile, you were out of practice, self-conscious, and hopelessly horny—he was going to regret agreeing to this.

You tugged the lingerie on, feeling it cinch your torso and breasts. It was tight, the flimsy fabric holding on for dear life. The V-shaped cut revealed the stretch marks lining your hips. The lace was itchy and dug into your skin suffocatingly. Fuck, this was quickly turning into a self-enforced humiliation ritual.

The bathroom door slid open, and Harry emerged in just a pair of white boxers, his hair dry and fluffy. The leftover shower steam made his skin glow, as did the dim lighting. He was effortlessly handsome, while you stood there in too-tight lingerie wondering if you looked desirable enough to stimulate his sex drive. From your perspective, all signs pointed to not likely.

Harry slowly walked toward you, his eyes exploring every inch of your body, and you leaned against the wall while fidgeting with the lingerie's shoulder straps. In the silence of his appraisal, you awkwardly shuffled your feet—it was futile to fake confidence right now.

"My forever Valentine," Harry said quietly, immediately attaching his hands to your waist.

You practically whined, then muttered, "I look ridiculous."

"You're joking, right?" He bent his knees to be eye level with you, a near-crazed look on his face. "Right?"

"It barely fits, Harry."

A slow smirk stretched his lips. "That better not be the only time you say that tonight."

You glared at him for his crude joke and said, "This is silly."

"What is?"

"This whole... rendezvous."

"I think it's fun," Harry said with a carefree shrug.

"But it's different from other times," you admitted.

"How so?" He kissed your neck, his affection warm and a welcome distraction to your disoriented thoughts. He smelled ravishing, the subtle hints of his spice and black vanilla shower cleanser putting you under a spell. A pulse of appetency made you press against him.

"My body," you said.

His hands traveled to your backside, squeezing the flesh there. "This body? The one I'd get down on my knees for?"

In one fell swoop, all your internal heat returned with a rush. "It's kind of a mess," you replied. "I haven't shaved. And my stomach looks like a wrinkly prune, so there's that."

Harry traced his thumb under the lacy hem hugging your hips. "Doesn't bother me. Prunes are delicious."

Deep down, you knew he wouldn't care. He had loved every part of you through pregnancy, with all its mind-bending changes and symptoms. If he had found you sexy then, he would appreciate your appearance now. Though it would take time for you to truly believe it.

"I just want this to be good," you murmured, resting your forehead on his firm chest.

"Hey." He lifted your head and cradled it. "We'll find a way to make this work. Let's take it slow." You nodded, and he leaned closer to whisper, "I know how to get you wet. Don't think I've forgotten."

Truthfully, you were already wet, but you didn't say anything as Harry grabbed your hand and squeezed it before guiding you to the bed. While he had been taking a shower, you had fluffed the pillows and straightened the sheets. You had even sat there and mentally filtered through what positions would be most reasonable. Sex was to be careful tonight. No need for anything crazy.

You climbed into bed, and Harry remained standing. The outline of his hardened cock pushed against his boxers. A flame ignited low in your belly—to get to have him inside you after so long was exhilarating.

When he didn't move to join you, you asked, "What are you doing?"

"Following your lead," he said. "Where do you want me?"

"Um... on your side, I guess. Next to me."

Harry didn't waste any time and got into position, his hand propping his head up. There was an expectant openness in his eyes, and you almost laughed. This was out of the ordinary, but it somehow eased your nerves.

"I want to face each other," you added. "And I... I want you to do that thing where you hold my leg up against your hip."

He hummed, his eyes flashing with something lustful. "Understood. But you're going to have to take your lingerie off."

"Right." You swallowed nervously. "I'll do that."

You stripped while Harry removed his boxers and rolled on a condom. He watched your breasts bounce free, watched the lace slide down your torso and legs. It was your armor against the reality that your body wasn't the same as the one Harry had touched for the first time. But you trusted him and his admiration for the life you brought into the world. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

You lie bare beside Harry now. His gaze turned fond, taking in all of you—no judgment, no confusion, no surprise. But why would there be? He'd been there when your pants stopped fitting during pregnancy. When you hadn't been able to shave anything below your bump. When you had needed help getting off the couch. Christ, he had seen you give birth. It didn't get much more intimate than that.

"Come here," Harry said softly. You scooted down to lie on the mattress facing him. "You're beautiful. This version of your body isn't something to dwell on. Every stretch mark, every wrinkle, every curve is a testament to your amazing ability to grow life."

You were speechless, so you just sprung forward and kissed him

"Ready?" He smiled against your mouth, and you returned it.

"Ready."

"I'm going to go slow. Tell me if it hurts." Harry grabbed his cock, holding the tip against your entrance. Without you needing to remind him, he bent your leg to rest against his hip, opening you further. He slid himself in, only an inch or two, keeping his eyes locked on yours. It was slow, like he promised, but there was a slight burning sensation. You inhaled sharply and gripped his wrist.

"Too fast?"

You moaned, half in pleasure and half in discomfort. "No, it just... feels rough. Even with the condom on."

"Okay. I won't go further."

"Maybe go deeper and it'll stop."

"No," Harry said, pulling out. "I'm not about to risk making you bleed or delaying your healing. Absolutely not."

"But—”

"But nothing. Your body's obviously not ready yet, and that's okay."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly.

"Don't be," he said, stroking your hair. "You thought you were healed, but it's hard to know for sure without actually having sex."

You let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, this was a bust. Back to dry humping for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not complaining." Harry rolled onto his back, then yanked the sheets over his boner. 

"You're serious?"

He patted his lap. "Hop on, baby."

Laughing, you straddled him for yet another clumsy experience. But with his determination to make it enjoyable, it would be perfectly imperfect.

——

[bo0tleg]

One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt. 5 - january 8 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 wordcount: 1850

The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled you into the kitchen, your oversized sweater and thick socks your only defense against the chilly air. Dylan was leaning against the counter, his hair messy but his grin charmingly intact, a steaming mug in his hand.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing. “Missed me already?” Your cheeks flushed involuntarily at the images flashing through your mind of you together in bed just earlier.

“Morning,” you replied, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “Last day together,” you added with a pout. The trip was winding down. Magui had left early this morning, and tomorrow morning, Dylan would be gone too, leaving with the rest of the family. Your flight wasn’t until the day after, giving you one last evening with Max and Lando—like old times. 

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let’s make the most of it, I’ll go easy on you today.”

Your eyes widened in excitement at an idea. “Easy? I’d rather prefer hard. There’s some tricks you haven’t taught me on the slopes yet” you smirked. Dylan looked at you puzzled. 

“Remind me?” You pulled him closer in a response, kissing him. “Ooh, those kind of tricks” he chuckled.

Lando scoffed. 

You looked up, you hadn’t noticed he was there. He sat at the table, slouched with his coffee, his expression a mix of irritation and exhaustion. “Morning to you too,” you said curtly, your irritation flaring up from the unresolved tension between you two after the conversation about Japan.

Lando didn’t look up, swirling his coffee as he scoffed. “Morning. Just enjoying the show.”

You shot him a glare, but before the tension could escalate further, Max appeared in the doorway, yawning and stretching dramatically.

“Alright, easy on the cute couple stuff” he grumbled, his eyes darting between you and Dylan before landing on Lando. “Lando will get jealous, he’s already sulking about Magui leaving this morning”

Dylan burst out laughing, completely unbothered, while you groaned. Lando’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, instead standing abruptly and leaving the room. His coffee cup clinked sharply against the counter on his way out.

“Good talk,” Max said, grabbing the pot to pour himself a cup. He glanced at you and Dylan, a smirk playing on his lips. “Carry on. Just don’t traumatize me this early, yeah?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Why are you like this?”

Max just grinned. “Because someone has to keep it interesting.” - Later that afternoon, after a long day on the slopes, Dylan was packing his stuff, you slipped into the hot tub outside the lodge. The warm water was a welcome relief against the crisp mountain air. Max was already there, lounging with a beer in hand.

“Finally,” he said, raising his bottle. “Thought you’d never show up.”

You eased into the water with a sigh. “Needed this after trying to keep up with Dylan all day. He’s annoyingly good.”

Max smirked. “Sounds like someone’s got a little crush.”

You splashed water at him. “Don’t start.”

You relaxed at the hot water, settling into comfortable silence with your brother. Then Max broke it. “It was great having Dylan around this trip, eventhough I'm surprised Lando hasn’t gone full overprotective older brother on him yet.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No need, I've got good taste. You said it yourself—he’s the most laid-back guy ever.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Max said, smirking. “Laid-back and Lando don’t exactly mix. He’s all adrenaline and proving he’s the best at everything.”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “They get along, though. Don’t they?” You hadn’t specifically noticed, Lando always took some time to warm up to people and you had attributed most of his behavior with Dylan to his extreme competitiveness. It was the same story with every teammate he'd had.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Do they? Or are you just convincing yourself they do? Dylan’s easygoing, so he’s not gonna make a big deal of it. But you know Lando. He can’t handle not being the center of attention—especially not with you.”

“That’s not fair,” you said quickly, though the words felt defensive even to you. “Lando’s competitive, sure, but it’s not personal. He’s always been like that. It’s just how he’s wired.”

Max gave you a knowing look. “Yeah, the competitiveness of the most important man in your life. He can’t handle not being second anymore. Always behind me, of course,” he added with a smug grin. “Now third, behind Dylan.”

You splashed water at him, laughing despite yourself. “You’re so full of it.”

Max wiped his face, still grinning. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. Don’t get me wrong—I think Dylan’s great. And I think Lando knows that too.'' - Dylan was already in bed for his early departure the next morning, as you padded into the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. You’d stayed up later than usual, nursing the remnants of a bottle of wine with Max.

As you stood at the sink, brushing lazily, the door creaked open, and Lando stepped inside, toothbrush dangling from his fingers.

“Seriously?” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “There are three other bathrooms.”

He shrugged, already squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. “This one’s closest. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.”

Rolling your eyes, you returned your focus to the mirror, but the small space seemed to shrink with both of you in it. You could feel his presence, the casual way he moved like he belonged there, even in the quiet intimacy of brushing teeth side by side.

Lando started brushing, his reflection meeting yours briefly in the mirror. “You’re still mad,” he said around the toothbrush, his words muffled. 

You realized he came to make amends after the Japan fight yesterday, having not really talked today.  

“What gave it away?” you replied flatly, spitting into the sink.

He leaned forward to do the same, his expression unreadable as he straightened. “C’mon, I said I’m sorry” But you weren’t fully ready to let it go yet.

He came closer, resting his head lightly on your shoulder,  looking at you in the mirror.  “Remember when we used to share this kind of thing all the time-” He continued, being vaguely sentimental in an attempt to make you forgive him. “Guess those days are over now that everyone’s got someone in their bed.” 

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What, missing the sleepovers? I thought you were glad to be rid of me taking over your apartment in Monaco.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, quieter now. “I liked it when things were simple.”

You turned to face him fully. “Things change, Lando. We’re not kids anymore.”

He stepped closer, the tension between you crackling. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes I wish we still were.”

His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it felt like he might step even closer.  “Goodnight,” he said, turning to leave, giving you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes

— Monaco, May 16 2021

You remembered one of those nights years ago, staying up late in his new sparsely decorated apartment in Monaco. The three of you had eaten takeout on the floor, talking about his upcoming race and playing games. 

“I swear, you two bring out the worst in me,” Max groaned, sprawled on the couch as Lando rifled through a pile of controllers.

“Don’t blame us because you suck at Mario Kart,” you said, smirking as you leaned against the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“Me?” Max shot back, sitting up. “The only reason you win is because Lando cheats. And don’t deny it!”

Lando turned with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. “Cheat? I’m offended. I’m just naturally gifted.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you threw a piece of popcorn at him. It missed, landing on the floor, and he scooped it up to toss back at you, grinning like a child.

Later, as the game devolved into chaos and Max declared himself out, he collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’m done. Wake me when it’s breakfast.”

“Lightweight,” Lando teased, watching as Max buried himself in the blankets and promptly started snoring.

“Max don’t be a baby” you said, picking up the scattered controllers and snacks.

Lando joined you, stacking empty cans on the counter. “Think he’ll survive out here?”

You glanced at Max, snoring softly. “He’s fine. He could sleep through an earthquake.”

As you came back from the bedroom to grab Max a blanket, Lando suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly. “Uh... you might want to rethink that.”

You looked down and realized that out of habit, you’d stripped down to your tank top and underwear, your usual sleep attire. Your face flushed. 

“Oh, come on,” you said, trying to brush it off. “You’ve seen worse.”

“Not the point,” he mumbled, his cheeks pink as he averted his gaze.

Max stirred on the couch, half-opening one eye. “Ew. Gross. Put on some pants or something. This isn’t Love Island. You'll give me nightmares.”

You grabbed the blanket and threw it at him, laughing despite your embarrassment. “Shut up, Max, you were literally naked in the womb with me. A woman's body gives you nightmares?!”

Lando chuckled, though he still looked a little flustered. Max groaned and turned over on the couch.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a t-shirt from your bag and tugged it over your head. “Better?”

“Marginally,” Lando teased, his grin returning.

With Max out cold, the night grew quieter. You and Lando eventually found yourselves in his room, lying side by side on his bed while quickly falling asleep.

—

With everyone gone, the lodge was left for a final night to just you, Max, and Lando—like old times. It felt oddly comforting to fall back into familiar patterns without the added complexities of relationships or new dynamics. After a last day of skiing, you were drinking and playing games at the lodge, Lando had brought out a vintage bottle of champagne he'd been saving for “a special occasion.”

“You can thank me later,” he said with a grin, pouring everyone a generous glass.

“I guess this counts as special,” you teased, holding your glass up. “To us—still standing after all these years.” You were drunk, feeling nostalgic, and had finally fully forgiven Lando about the fight.  

“To us,” Max and Lando echoed, clinking their glasses against yours.

As the night wore on, the three of you grew progressively more tipsy, laughing so hard your sides hurt, as Max was losing every game against Lando and you. 

It was well past midnight when Max declared he was too drunk to move and collapsed onto one of the couches. You groaned in protest when Lando grabbed your arm and pulled you upstairs. “Come on,” he said, smirking. “You’re not sleeping in the living room with Max snoring like that.” He guided you to one of the spare bedrooms—the same room the two of you had shared for years during other ski trips. The familiarity made your chest tighten as you dropped onto the bed.

“You know,” you said, your words slurred from the alcohol, “you always get what you want, Lando. It’s so unfair.”

He paused, pulling a blanket over you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always do,” you mumbled, turning to face the wall. “You wanted this—just us three. You always get your way.”

Lando didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slid under the covers beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist in a gesture so natural, it didn’t even register as strange. You were too tipsy to care, and Max was too far gone downstairs to notice.

“I don’t always get what I want,” Lando said softly, his voice barely audible. “Not everything.”

-

WN: last chapter at the ski lodge im crying 😭😭 i will miss it. But don’t worry, they’ll come back next year like every year (spoiler!!!!) Let me know what you think! Also btw what’s that outfit Lando's wearing in the new vid in Monaco???? I hate and love it at the same time….

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05@lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles @chaoswithus

[bunny-jpeg]

carnations

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, romantic, babies & kids, wife!reader, age gap (20s/50s), gentle sex, missionary, pregnancy, body worship

this bunny eats comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

tulips (max verstappen) - roses (charles leclerc) (nov. 3) - sunflowers (lando norris) (nov. 3)

exhaustion was normal after having a baby, babies were fussy little creatures who were learning every day about the big wide world. you understood, but that didn't mean that you weren't tired.

thankfully for the off season, you had your husband at home most nights and he was more than happy to look after your son, tano. he felt like he missed enough after only being with you for a week after you had him. toto felt like he needed to make up for lost time.

you woke up to the sound of the baby monitor going off, your son getting fussy in the early hours. he had been up a few hours earlier, but before you could even raise your head from the pillow you felt toto's hand on you.

"i've got it." he said softly before you put head back down on the pillow.

being in bed felt wrong knowing that toto was up with your son. you knew he was capable of taking care of him, but you didn't want to feel useless. so, you got yourself up and headed towards the kitchen. and the sight of your husband almost made your throat grow dry. he was standing there, with tano in the crook of his arm while he got used warm water to heat up the breast milk that was in the fridge in a bottle.

"Ich weiß, ich weiß. Du wirst bald essen." he said softly, your son was getting impatient with no being able to eat asap. toto looked down at tano and then to the bottle under the water.

you could see your husband's strong back with his sweatpants low on his hips. he was much older than you, but he was doting. he was a caring man who made sure that his wife and son had everything they needed. that meant getting up in the wee hours to take care of tano. you were his family and he loved you both dearly.

it also didn't hurt that he looked very handsome. even now with greying hair, he was perfect. it made something swim in your gut, the same lingering feeling that got you pregnant. your husband was very handsome.

you leaned up against the door way with your arms crossed. you yawned loudly which got your husband's attention. he looked over and gestured quietly for you to come closer. you helped him by finishing up warming the bottle before handing it to toto to feed your son. at the dining table near the kitchen, toto fed tano gently. you yawned into your fist.

"you should go back to bed, my love. i can handle it."

you shook your head, "no, no. we spent too much apart. the bedroom feels like miles away." you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

toto shifted himself on the wooden chair and carefully watched his son. tano was a lot like toto already. even at a little over seven months old. you could see it when the baby scrunched his little face and how clingy he was with you already. he was a real wolff already. matched with the dark hair of his father and his nose. it was cute.

"i love you." toto said.

"i love you too. even though your stupid tall genes made me carry a huge baby." you pointed a finger at him recalling your pregnancy with tano.

99th percentile and sympathy glances from the nurses when you went into labor. didn't help that tano was stubborn like his father too and i took longer than you hoped.

toto smiled as he took the bottle away from his son's lips, "and you did it so beautifully. look at our son."

you smiled at him. damn you, toto wolff, for making you feel something warm in your gut. to see him across from you with your son in his arms. shirtless with his chest hair on display. he held love in his eyes for you. your wild wolf.

"he looks a lot like you."

he smiled, "he has you smile, those knowing eyes. he always looks so curious. but, what he lacks in physical attributes from you. he will make up in personality. your kindness, your smarts, the beauty of your heart. i bet he will take in strays just like you."

you chuckled a little. you didn't know if he meant the two cats your brought home once or himself. regardless you blushed under his comments.

with tano eventually back in his crib, you got back into bed with toto. but something pooled in your gut under the exhaustion. your leg hooked over toto's middle and his face in your hands.

he smiled a little into the kiss before he pulled away and looked at you, "i think it's a little late for that, schatzi."

you shrugged, "it's been a while since we... ya know. with everything going on." you wrapped an arm around him. with formula one, tano, and everything else going on, you had little time to be intimate with your husband.

he kissed the apple of your cheek, your skin was warmed under his lips. he then started to pull at the shirt you wore to bed. he was greeted to the sight of your soft body. his breath was caught in his throat for a moment.

curves like aphrodite yet the strength of artemis to carry his son for nine months. you had a slight softness in your middle and it made him lick his lips. he had seen you naked since you had tano. but, to see it so close up. to feel your warmth on your skin.

you tried to cover up yourself with your hands but toto pinned your wrists to the bed over your head. his gaze was heated and it made you squirm. you said, "toto, don't stare."

he replied, "how can i not? not when i am looking at the most beautiful woman in the world."

"i still need to lose the baby weight."

he got closer to you, his chest against yours. his cock straining in his sweatpants. he then held your hips with both hands, "no, no. you look perfect like this." he then kissed you on the lips for a moment before he pulled away and got between your legs with his sweatpants kicked off to the end of the bed. his leaky cock stood at full attention.

"please, honey."

he rubbed his cock up against your achy slit. it had been so long since you two were intimate. while he worshiped your body at every moment during your pregnancy, it was nothing like feeling the closeness to your husband.

"you're beautiful." he said as he slipped his cock into you. so soft and perfect for him. it made a shiver run through his body as he took you by the hips and started to move against you.

"you're making me blush, toto."

"good, i want to have you blushing for the rest of my days. you always feel so nice when you have heat in your cheeks. you are the most beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on. from the day we got married until now. and forever more." thrusting against you was euphoria for him.

he remembered your wedding day, he remembered how beautiful you looked for him. he felt like he didn't need to say any vows, it was plainly obvious that he wanted to marry you. his almost missed his cue to kiss you at the end because how entranced he was by you. he remembered when you gave birth to tano. and he did anything he could for you, even at the your grumpiest (which he understood). you had been everything for him. you had given him something he never thought he could have.

and as he palmed your breasts and kissed across your skin, he promised that he'd be the perfect husband for you. you deserve it. you and tano deserve the best toto wolff could offer. and sometimes that meant making gentle love to his beloved wife. his personal heaven.

you two kissed, pressed chest to chest now. your legs around his waist as you moved together. it felt good being with him. the pleasure was a throb in his chest and a cloud in your head.

you both needed to feel close to one another. to be in each other's embrace. after so long, to be next to your husband in such an intimate state felt so good. his kisses trailed across your skin.

his words were loose and with such affection. his phrases in german held the same affection as the ones in english. he tried to come up with every word he could think of to tell you that he loved you.

you kissed him once more and you met his pace. the two of you moved together on the bed. you held onto him, feeling the closeness to your beloved husband.

"i am lucky." he said, "most men would kill for the chance to be with you. you've only become more beautiful." he said which made you blush a little more.

you tried to look away but he pulled you with a searing kiss once more. there was an inferno in your gut. you were lucky to have him too, someone who treated you with such kindness and respect. who loved you very deeply.

"i love you."

"i love you too." he said as he cupped your face with a sweet devotion.

he continued to rut against you. you clenched your legs around his waist as he moved. his pace was gentle or at least more gentle than what you usually got involved with prior to pregnancy. you had firm memories of toto going to town on you in the back of his car. he groaned when you gripped onto his shoulders, your pretty short nails dug into his skin as you felt orgasm come over you.

you let out a pretty moan and your husband sealed it with a kiss as he lifted your hips a little higher to get at the best ankle. he kissed your lips tightly and gave it a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. his tip kissed the back of your pussy before he spilled his seed into you.

when the kiss was broken, he slowed to a still and panted heavily. he made a bit of a face and rubbed his hip. you gave a small chuckle and said, "old man." but then yelped when he gave your pussy and tender slap.

"i can still keep up with you, schatzi."

you raised an eyebrow as you continued to breathe heavily. you raked your nails down the hair on his chest. you asked curiously.

"then i'll find a million ways to keep that hungry cunt of yours busy." as he looked down at you. your husband may be the sweetest father, and a doting husband. but when it was you two alone in the bedroom, you remembered why you once called him the vienna stallion.

you were firmly reminded of it come morning, when toto's cum was plastered to your pussy lips.

-

a month later you got the ire of your doctor when you sat in her office and she looked at your blood work. you were only pregnant eight months ago, and now you were pregnant again.

"I suggest after this mrs. wolff that you go on a form of birth control." the doctor looked at your charts, "accidents this close together can cause problems long term. i suggest forms of family planning. having your husband working overseas most of the year doesn't seem to working." her words made you ears burn.

toto held tano in his arms and looked away to chuckle slightly, but it was cut off by the doctor's voice.

"either that or your husband should look into options as well. there's a clinic in the west end that'll happily give him a vasectomy." she said which made toto grimace.

you both looked a little ashamed. you were two for two in accidentally having children. most usually got more careful after the first, but now you were expecting another child right after tano. the baby squirmed a little bit in his father's arms and you felt embarrassed as your doctor talked about options for family planning after your second child. you were married! but, the heat still flooded your cheeks. you thought about the night with your husband. and what started out as a reintroduction to each other's bodies after months apart had become an expansion to your little family. <3

[22ayla21]

I've read your ifa post (seriously how handsome he is) x reader, and I have to say that I loved it. What's more, I would very much like to see more scenes with this couple. When you can, there's no rush. My proposal for the future is related to the fact that the girl has that gift with both children and saurians/animals and that ifa dropped the issue of starting making a family... (I need to see this man as a dad so bad)

It is related to this last issue, that is to say that for example the girl is pregnant but does not yet have symptoms of it (the only thing is that the period does not come like every month), and both have noticed that the saurians and animals are more fond of the young woman (so by their heightened senses)

Whisper of Hearts and Paws

When the saurians start to stick to his beloved more than usual, Ifa notices something in their behavior that can change his life forever.

A few days passed. The tent was again filled with soft light, the smells of herbs and medicines, but something in the atmosphere had changed. Ifa noticed it in the morning.

The saurians began to behave strangely. More precisely, not aggressively or excitedly - on the contrary. They began to literally stick to his girl. Before, they were drawn to her - this was understandable: she was warm, affectionate, did not scare them. But now they followed her everywhere, lay down at her feet, purred, rubbed their cheeks against her palms, even argued among themselves about who would lie closer. One particularly persistent baby saurian hid in the folds of her clothes and did not want to come out.

At first, Ifa was amused. Then - it alarmed her. She laughed herself:

"What's wrong with them today? Am I covered in honey?"

He grinned, but inside he felt a memory from the past surface. His friend once told him about his saurians - a faithful female named Lely. She suddenly began to behave strangely - she did not leave her mistress, circled around, meowed (?) anxiously and tried to drag her mistress into the nest. It turned out later that the woman was in the early stages of pregnancy. Lely sensed this long before her mistress realized it.

Ifa straightened up abruptly. His gaze slid to the girl, who was just treating one of the little ones to cookies and laughing. Her face was shining, her movements were light. At first glance, everything was as usual.

But... she had complained of fatigue a couple of times recently. She also said that her period was a little "late", although she attributed it to stress and the change in climate. He did not attach any importance to it then.

But the saurians... they feel. Their sense is sharper than that of many other animals. They sense life, new life. Quiet, barely breaking through, but already real.

Ifa caught her breath for a moment.

He leaned on the table, watching his girlfriend deftly hug the saurian and laugh when he licked her cheek. Her hands were so caring. Her voice was warm. Without knowing it, she was already weaving life into the world that no one else knew about.

He felt his heart beat faster. He would not tell her now – it was too early. He was not a doctor of people, but he was not a fool either. He would give her time, give himself time. Perhaps she would soon understand. Perhaps she should quietly prompt, ask, support.

But for now… he would be there.

He would come up to her, put his arm around her waist and, as always, in a slightly playful tone, whisper in her ear:

"The saurians know something that we don’t know yet…"

She would look at him questioningly, not immediately catching the hint, and he would simply grin and add:

"It seems that my prediction about you as an ideal mother may come true sooner than you think."

This time she would not pat him on the shoulder. She would freeze. Ifa would feel how she slowly turned her gaze to the saurians sleeping at her feet. Then – to her stomach. Her lips would slightly part in silent surprise.

And he'll be there to catch her if the excitement hits. To hold her and whisper:

"It's okay. We'll get through this. You're not alone."

[hoshifighting]

Okay... But what if Y/n tells his best friend, Wonwoo, since highschool that she wants to join as a stripper as a joke. But then Wonwoo asks her to do a sexy dance in front of him, and Y/n played along, dancing, stripping naked in front of him and rode his lap with him still wearing shorts, until Wonwoo couldn’t hold back and fucked her hard.

— Warnings: Smut, lap dance, reader jokes ab being a stripper (all respect to the profession), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, best friends, stripping. — WC: 2k

It was a typical Friday evening, and you found yourself lounging on the couch with your best friend, Wonwoo. The two of you had been inseparable since high school, forming an unlikely but unbreakable bond. Wonwoo, with his quiet demeanor, was the yin to your yang. While he navigated life with a calm and collected approach, you were the unabashed extrovert, always seeking excitement.

As the evening progressed, you couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot a bit. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Wonwoo and blurted out, "Hey, Wonwoo, you know what I've been thinking lately?"

"What's on your mind, Y/n?" Wonwoo replied, his eyes reflecting curiosity.

"I was thinking of becoming a stripper."

Wonwoo's face immediately furrowed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He blinked a few times, processing the unexpected revelation. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to comprehend your words.

"Wait, what? A stripper?" Wonwoo finally managed to articulate, his voice laced with bewilderment.

You chuckled at his reaction, fully aware of the stark contrast between your outgoing nature and Wonwoo's reserved personality. "Nah, Wonwoo, it's just a joke! Can you imagine me on a stage, dancing in front of strangers?"

His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to process the information. "You...want to be a stripper as a joke?"

"Yeah!"

Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, his furrowed brow relaxing. "You scared me there for a moment. I couldn't picture you doing something like that."

The truth is, Wonwoo was a fucking liar.

However, deep down, Wonwoo couldn't deny the vivid image that flashed in his mind at your mention of becoming a stripper. The mental image of you dancing around a pole in skimpy clothing lingered, creating an unexpected tension in the room. He quickly brushed aside the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the conversation.

You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but tease him. "Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Are you sure you can't picture it? I bet I'd be the star of the show!"

Wonwoo's cheeks flushed slightly as he awkwardly coughed, attempting to dispel the lingering mental image. "No, Y/n. Let's not even entertain that idea. It's just not you."

With a sly grin, you turned to him and asked, "Wait, are you saying I'm not hot enough for that kind of job, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all!"

But his reddening cheeks and ears told a different story. You couldn't help but revel in the mischief, adopting a mischievous expression. "Oh, I see. So, you do think I'm hot?"

Wonwoo stammered, trying to backtrack, "I-I didn't say that. I just meant, um, it's not something I could imagine you doing. Not because of how you look!" His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "Well, I mean, you're... You're pretty, very pretty."

He couldn't help but attribute his discomfort to more than just the thought of you pole dancing—it was the unspoken crush he harbored on you. Each playful comment seemed to amplify his self-consciousness, making him acutely aware of the feelings he kept under wraps.

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the provocative topic, you chimed in, "You know, it's not like I genuinely want to be a stripper. But I've always thought it would be fun to dance for someone, you know? Just to let loose and have a good time."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at your revelation. The notion of you wanting to dance for someone, while not necessarily in a provocative way, fueled his imagination, igniting a subtle curiosity.

"Oh, really?" he responded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "Dance for someone, like, just casually?"

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah! I mean, not in a professional setting, but just dancing for someone special. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun, don't you think?"

Wonwoo's mind raced, grappling with the newfound information. His gaze focused on you, and with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you mentioned wanting to dance for someone. Would you... uh, would you mind dancing for me?"

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and a playful grin formed on your lips. "Oh, really? Wonwoo, are you asking me for a dance?"

"Well, you know, you mentioned it, and I thought it might be... nice. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

You couldn't help but find his shy request endearing. "Sure, Wonwoo. But you have to promise not to laugh at my moves. I can't promise they'll be any good."

Wonwoo chuckled nervously, "I'm sure you'll be great."

Your hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a playful grin, you tossed your clothing aside, letting it land somewhere in the living room. Wonwoo's eyes widened behind his glasses, focusing on your exposed tits, his usually composed demeanor giving way to a hint of surprise and curiosity.

His voice came out as a soft whisper, "Does this... does this make part of the dance too?"

You simply nodded, your own confidence shining through. "Of course!"

The room was filled with the sultry beat of the music as you continued to move, your hands gracefully making contact with your body. Wonwoo couldn't tear his eyes away, the subtle allure of the moment captivating his senses. The dancing became a mesmerizing display, the connection between you and Wonwoo growing hotter with each passing moment.

As the music's tempo intensified, you decided to take it a step further. With a bold move, you gracefully moved to sit on Wonwoo's lap, your dance becoming more provocative. His breath caught in his throat as your movements became a sensuous exploration, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your hips moved up and down, back and forth, and of course the bulge inside of his pants grew harder. Wonwoo, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, let his hands find your hips. He tried to disguise the effect your movements were having on him, not wanting to make it obvious how affected he was. Your hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm against his, and Wonwoo felt a surge of lust that he struggled to conceal.

Unexpectedly, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, hanging in the air like a shared secret. Wonwoo's ears caught the sound, and a jolt of awareness ran through him. Did he hear that right?

His hands instinctively pushed your hips down, a silent plea for you to continue. The dance resumed, and your hips moved deliciously against his. Wonwoo bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the desire that surged through him.

"Hm… Wonwoo…"

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n."

In the blink of an eye, the delicate balance of composure that Wonwoo had been struggling to maintain shattered. His hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a hungry, passionate kiss. The air crackled as your lips met, the tension between you finally finding release.

Wonwoo's free hand moved with a sense of urgency, grabbing your ass through the material of your shorts that still clung to your body. The touch was both possessive and hungry, his tongue fought yours, and your hips continued to grind on his dick.

Your hardened nipples were pressed on his chest, and he felt that, also, he felt your wetness soaking his pants through your shorts. His mouth found its way to your neck, leaving a trail of eager kisses. The soft touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp as his kisses ventured down towards your bust. His hands, now firmly gripping your tits.

He slowly guided you to lie on the couch. The air was thick with anticipation as his hands skillfully worked on the buttons of your shorts, his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid the clothing down your legs along with your panties. In the charged atmosphere of the room, as Wonwoo lowered his head closer to your thighs, you felt a sudden surge of impatience and need. Your hands gently pressed against his shoulders, halting his descent, and you looked into his eyes with a sense of urgency.

"Please, Wonwoo," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper. "Hurry, I need you."

His dark eyes met yours, the intensity of the moment reflected in the depths of his gaze. Understanding the urgency in your plea, Wonwoo's movements became more purposeful. With a swift motion, he aligned himself with your pussy, his pants and underwear also thrown around. 

The hot head of his cock rubbed against your entrance. He entered slowly so he didn't hurt you, since you didn't even want to wait for him to prepare you.  "How did you get so wet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and desire.

Rolling your eyes in response, you could only manage a breathless murmur, "You," the single word encapsulating the effect he had on you. 

His cock stretched your walls perfectly, loving the fullness of Wonwoo, the initial discomfort giving way to a wave of pleasure. As Wonwoo's breath danced across your skin, his nose taking in the scent of your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. 

The throbbing length of his cock being squeezed by your wet walls, until his pelvis hits yours, a relief moan leaves your lips, as Wonwoo kisses your cheeks, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you. 

Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder, making your body squirm under him. Meanwhile, Wonwoo admired the scene. How can a simple dance take him to paradise? He felt like he was seeing a work of art that some divine being had forbidden him from for so long.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your pussy making him wetter by the second, and your moans were driving him to the brink of an orgasm. "F-fuck Wonwoo yes! Right here!"

The explicit encouragement fueled a surge of energy within him, and Wonwoo, driven crazy by you, found the strength to respond. His movements became more purposeful, with a renewed vigor, he shifted your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest, deepening his cock inside of your pussy abusing the g'spot.

As you drooled from the corners of your mouth, the sheer pleasure and desire took over. In a breathless symphony, you cried out his name, as the climax overtook you, you felt yourself clenching uncontrollably around his cock, making him moan the loudest. 

Leaving an indelible mark on the couch beneath you, his cock throbbed inside of your pussy, the white hot spurts, being spilled inside of you, while you could only mumble his name softly enough to make him melt over you.

The air hung with a sense of ease and contentment as you found yourself still catching your breath, your voice reduced to a soft murmur of his name. Wonwoo, lying atop you, he couldn't help but savor the tender sound.

"Mmm, Wonwoo," you whispered, the quiet intimacy in your voice reflecting the connection between you two.

He stayed nestled on top of you, his weight providing a comforting support as you both recovered. Wonwoo looked into your eyes, a gentleness in his expression that hadn't surfaced before. "You know," he started, a playful glint in his eyes, "I think I want you to dance for me more often."

A genuine laugh escaped your lips, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected comment. "Oh, really? You enjoyed the show that much, Wonwoo?"

He nodded, his cheeks sporting a subtle blush. "Yeah, it was...unexpected, but I liked it. A lot."

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, you reveled in the sight of a more playful and confident Wonwoo. "So, you're saying you want a private dance performance on demand?"

Wonwoo's shy demeanor returned, but this time, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe...just a little. It was...nice."

[creantzy]

Defying God - a parallel between Fyolai and Stavrovensky

The Demons brainrot is taking over, and you know what happens when I acquire a new interest: my brain WILL find a way to connect it to my other interests, whether I like it or not!! And this is essentially what it's about xD I've come here to present a parallel I found between Fyolai (Fyodor & Nikolai from BSD) and Stavrovensky (Verkhovensky & Stavrogin from "Demons" by Dostoevsky). Before I start I want to clarify a few things:

• I don't think these two pairings are similar, I just love picking up any crumbs of connections I can find between my interests, even if it'd count as reaching.

• This interpretation (in either character's case) is in no way "the only true way of looking at it". It's merely one interpretation out of many and I chose to focus on just a few aspects out of the many others there are to explore in these complex characters. 

• Feel free to add onto or disagree with anything I say! I'm interested in your thoughts :D

WARNING: There will be spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs and Demons.

The reason Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor is because he feels affection for him. Emotions are a prison to him, and he basically seeks the opposite of what his emotions make him want to do. Thus, in the face of affection, which makes you want to be closer and wish the best for your friend, he does the opposite and decides to kill said friend, going directly against his feelings in an attempt to prove free will. But here I want to focus more on the "You want to defy God in order to lose sight of yourself" part, specifically the bit about God.

One part of my interpretation is that Nikolai associates God with control. If there is a God who controls all, how can there be a free will? He wants to go against Him and His creations (the human mind, morality, etc.) to prove that it's possible. But God is very abstract - the idea of God is influential but varies depending on cultures, etc. For this point, I'll use the example of the biblical God, or, more specifically, some attributes commonly assigned to the idea of God:

• omnipotence (all-powerful)

• omnipresence (all-present)

• omniscience (all-knowing)

What I am leading up to is the fact that these traits can, in one way or another, be applied to Fyodor. Fyodor's character represents everything Nikolai wants to defy. Nikolai hates control; he wants to fight the idea of God and prove the possibility of complete independence. Fyodor (though not in a "direct" way) could be seen as a symbol for God. He knows everything, he is always present (metaphorically and sometimes literally, the way he spawns sometimes I swear-), and he seems to control everything. Only few people actually see him, but he pulls the strings behind the scenes, and his power is felt everywhere. For Nikolai, to kill Fyodor is not just a protest against his feelings of affection, but can also be a symbolic act of defying "God", of killing "God", by killing Fyodor.

This is supposed to be very symbolic and not taken literally. I feel the need to repeat this because I personally dislike the notion of Fyodor as a literal God (and disagree with the idea of him having a God-complex), so this is merely about the God-like traits he possesses, like a "substitute" for the idea of God, and how it interacts with Nikolai's philosophy. (I've also exaggerated some points for the sake of simplification - for example, I don't actually believe Fyodor is in control of absolutely everything, etc.)

Moving onto Demons:

Pyotr Verkhovensky grew up religious and (assuming based on Stepan's description) with a fear of God.

Now he's an atheist and very anti-religious. He plans to overthrow society, and destroying religion + everything it preaches is part of that plan. But interestingly enough, he picks not himself as the official future "ruler", but someone else: Nikolai Stavrogin. He chooses Stavrogin to be the role of the leader in Verkhovensky's ideal society. But not exactly the "leader" in the traditional sense, because he wouldn't necessarily give Stavrogin all the power. He would simply use him as a "pawn" (for lack of a better word) while himself pulling the strings behind said society. With that, Verkhovensky puts someone else above himself, in a God-like position, but he wants to do it while still keeping full control over Stavrogin. By doing so, he would overcome his childhood fear of God because instead of being controlled by God, *he* will control God.

(Same case here, not the literal God, but the character who he assigns God-like traits to.)

I am undecided (with both Nikolai's and Verkhovensky's character) whether this could be read as a solely subconscious intention or if it would make sense as a conscious one as well. Given that both have a different "main" goal (Nikolai focuses on emotions and Verkhovensky on the revolution) I lean more towards thinking it's subconscious (if present at all - like I said, just interpretations!)

It doesn't help that Verkhovensky describes his vision of Stavrogin's leadership as "hidden": Everyone believes in him and his power, but only very few people are said to actually have laid their eyes upon him. When I first read this part, I was honestly reminded of Big Brother from Orwell's 1984, but eventually realised that similar things can be said about God as well.

While these are parallels, they don't come without differences. Nikolai needs Fyodor dead, Verkhovensky needs Stavrogin alive. Nikolai wants to kill Fyodor for a sense of freedom, Verkhovensky wants to keep Stavrogin for a sense of control. Yet both symbolic goals are bound to fail:

Fyodor turns out to be unkillable, and Stavrogin ends up dead.

At the end, "God" stays untouchable.

[irisintheafterglow]

just too soft for all of it

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "sweet nothing"

summary: you only call bakugo when you need his body. what happens when you need him for a different reason? (prohero!bakugo x reader)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: fwb to lovers, no explicit smut (just implications and allusions but mdni just in case), descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack, angst/comfort with happy ending, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, babe), broken glass, stubborn reader and even more stubborn katsuki

note: is this my coping mechanism for all the 'casual' inspired fics i've seen lately? possibly. will i continue to keep reading said 'casual' inspired fics? definitely. haven't written kats in a hot minute, hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"I need you." 

"I'm busy. This new report shit is going to be the death of me, I swear–"

"I need you right now. Please." Your voice shakes and he mistakes it for horny desperation.

"Aww, you need me that bad? Need me to come and make you feel good, is that it?" He smirks patronizingly and you hear it through the phone, despite your vision going in and out of clarity.

"Katsuki," you breathe, and his hand goes deathly still over his paper. You never said his name like that; you always addressed him outside of the covers as 'Bakugo' or 'shithead' or 'asshole.' He hears you swallow, his senses finally returning and realizing just how exhausted you sound. "I can’t breathe–I think I'm...I think I'm having a panic attack and-and I can't calm down and it's–it's too much and–"

"Breathe, sweetheart," he says before you can continue, his hand flinging open his front door and blasting himself into the darkness. "Just hold on, I'm on my way." 

By the time he’s let himself into your apartment, it’s nearly midnight. He considers toeing off his shoes at the door but quickly decides against it when he spots the broken glass scattered across your dining room floor. You’re hugging your knees close to your chest, so backed up against the floor cabinets that he almost missed you when he looked for you in the kitchen. The glass crunches beneath his shoes as he crouches down to look at you, relief flooding him as he realizes the glass didn’t injure you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trembling even as he peels your arms away from your sides. “It just–I was making late dinner and one of my glasses broke and everything just came crumbling down…” He’d never seen you like this; you were always the collected one, the one who was always teasing him for being stressed when, in reality, you were just better about hiding all the weight on your shoulders. Your breath comes in short inhales and pained exhales and it’s like Katsuki’s body instinctually knows what to do. Taking your hands in his, he presses them against his chest at the exact spot where you can feel his heartbeat. It’s steady as a steam engine, thumping below your fingertips. In through the nose. Without breaking eye contact, he exhales a deep breath, nodding encouragingly when you copy him. Out through the mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he murmurs, breathing deeply again and again and again until your body ceases its fight or flight response. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing.” 

“Katsuki…” 

“We’ll talk after, I promise,” he gently reassures you, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. “For now, I need to make sure you’re okay.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. Even when he knows the situation is de-escalated, he doesn’t dare move his hands, nor stop modeling deep breathing. He waits for you to say that you’re done, to yank your hands away and mock him for being so caring and thoughtful, attributes that didn’t come with your strictly physical relationship. You don’t; you stay there on the floor with him until the tension in your body completely releases, leaving you slumped against your cabinets. You move to position your knees under you, but his hands catch your wrists a split second before your palms hit the floor. You glance at him with a confused expression. “The glass, babe. Lemme put you on the couch and I’ll clean it up.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can clean it when I’m–” You’re cut off by the sensation of being lifted off the ground, his arms effortlessly bringing you against his chest and laying you on your living room couch. “Wait, I can just clean once you leave."

“Stop,” he grumbles with a burst of intensity that takes you aback. “I’m gonna take care of you, so sit and wait until I’m done. Got it?” You blink at him but he doesn’t relent, and you’re forced to nod and wait as he meticulously sweeps and vacuums every single particle of glass until sleep is nudging at your eyelids. He’s just stuck your vacuum back in the closet as you muster up the energy to stand, stumbling in the direction of your room. “Fucking hell, you don’t know when to quit,” he mutters, sweeping your legs out from under you again and carrying you the rest of the way to your bed. 

“Who knew you could be so doting?” 

“You’re mocking me when I’m literally carting you around your own place. Unbelievable,” he scoffs, carefully settling you on the covers and taking a seat at the edge. 

“I’m not being sarcastic,” you reply, your eyelids sleepily opening and closing. “I really am surprised that you’re taking care of me like this.” 

“Of course I’m taking care of you, dumbass,” he grunts. “I know we said no attachment, but you’re more than a body to me.” His voice quiets but you hear it anyway, smiling against the pillow. 

“When were you gonna tell me that, idiot?”

“Not sure. Was waiting for the perfect moment.” He shrugs, reaching over to run his hand up and down the side of your thigh. 

“And you think this is it?” 

“It’s definitely not, but it felt like the right thing to say.” You hum in contentment and he slyly rubs his hand backward just to see what happens. 

“Easy there, cowboy,” you chuckle, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Even when I’m broken, you can’t resist grabbing my ass.” 

“You’re not broken. Don’t say that about yourself. And even if you were,” he scolds, though you know there’s no venom behind it. “Guess who’s gonna be the one to put you back together?” You hum again and he can feel your consciousness slipping. “You gonna let me stay the night, sweetheart?” 

“Is the sky blue, dumbass?”

“Just checking,” he grins, positioning himself beside you and flipping you over to face him. You groan in protest but still mold yourself into Katsuki’s chest, his arm securing you against his body. “G’night.”

“Night, Katsuki. Don’t let your alarm wake me up early or I’ll kick you in the dick,” you warn, your body further relaxing in his warm safety. 

“After everything I’ve done for you tonight? So ungrateful.” You snort, drifting off with a smile on your face that makes his heart stutter. He double checks that all his alarms are off and, for good measure, turns off his phone entirely. No one’s reaching him tonight, not when you’re his first priority. When he’s sure you’re out, he whispers the real reason why, even when it wasn’t a booty call, he rushed to you in the middle of the night. 

“Mmm,” you hum and he freezes, having no idea whether you were responding or just making that noise in your sleep. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[noxiousgrace]

I'm not sure who said it first, but the theory that krs is the red dragon has been on my mind for days now

And it would make so much sense if that was the case

Like what's a better twist than finding out the man who ended the white stars bullshit is also the same being who was used to start it all?

And the fact that krs was able to be affected by white stars curse is so much worse now

Imagine sherrit finding out her child was hurt by the same thing she created to protect him 😭

This also places immense suspicion on the god of death, i mean it never made sense to me that the white star was just able to "pass his curse around" like a sickly virus just because he stole someones body. It sounds more plausible to me that the god of death never added the rule "this curse cannot affect anybody else" and then used it as a loophole to curse KRS.

The curse was a punishment for an oath only dragon slayers have made, what the hell could be more targeted and specific than that??? And now you're telling me this random guy from raon has to live with it in korea cuz the white star took his body before that soul got to inhabit it??

The only person who can break a curse is the one who made the curse and the person who wanted it to be made (in this case the GoD and Sherrit)

And in the sealed test choi jung gun says "the god of death is trying to hold the curse back from affecting you"

Excuse me??? He can't dispel his own curse?? I don't believe that at all. Also krs had nothing to do with the white star since he was born, so why is it impossible to remove him from the effects of it?? The god of death had about 36 years to figure out how to make it go away, and he just couldn't?? I smell bullshit

Sherrit also said that the red egg was affecting it's surroundings before it was born, the dragon inside would've been powerful to extents she probably couldn't even comprehend

It makes more sense to me if the GoD just wanted to get rid of any competition/ "wrench in his plans" and used the excuse of protecting sherrits children to create the perfect scenario to take out 2 birds with one stone

GoD does seem kinda stupid when we see him but it's always the mfs with that kind of act that are the most suspicious, also he literally became a god?? If he can do that, then he's more than capable of setting up some kind of intricate plan to get what he wants

Anywho, there's also other things I've noticed:

1) never accepting park jin tae as king until he proved himself, krs has never submitted to anyone without a valid reason for doing so. Which would seem kinda weird cuz he spent 90% of his upbringing being beaten into submission. I've only ever seen an attitude like that in dragons or just stronger creatures in general (coincidence? I think not)

2) this has been stated before but his affinity with dragons is crazy + he's constantly being mistaken for one 😭

3) the GoD called krs a mutant, we don't know why yet but being a human with the soul of a dragon is a pretty valid reason to call someone a mutant. (Especially if that mutant was able to activate a small % of its attribute)

4) i don't have anything to back this up with, but instant being his attribute instead of a power he got on earth would be pretty cool, just using it for a little bit is enough to injure him because it's meant to be used by a dragon as powerful as the Red one.

----

Imagine eden finding out that the heart he ate to become a chimera belonged to the person who saved him 😭

Imagine the rest of the dragons finding out cale henituse is a "dragon" that will literally die from using his attribute because he's living in the wrong body 😭😭

---

Cales honest reaction to that information:

[jeanbie]

BABY (YOU'RE MY LULLABY) PT.1 ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: na'vi!fem!reader, pregnancy, domestic fluff/bliss, tsu'tey lives because i said so, "jakesully" for a while, pre!atwow | wc: 7.4k | ♬

note: inspired by @fluloa's post on jake being the baby daddy with his unmated partner, and i kinda took a spin on that and created this -- not exactly the same as fluloa's post, but definitely inspired by it! i recommend <33 and i've felt super uninspired with smut lately, but i do plan for nsfw jake with this story, depending on overall reception :) lmk what u all think ^__^

⏤ part one | part two

⏤ One thing you love about Jakesully now that he's a part of your clan is that he does not ask difficult questions. He doesn't pry about who the hell knocked you up - he's just more than happy to step up and be the baby's father if it means making you happy.

When the Sky People left Pandora and Jakesully became one of the People, it was a while before you understood what everybody loved about him. 

The cost of the war between the Na’vi and the colonisers had been great, and as far as you were aware, he had been part of that problem once, part of the infection of humans spreading across the lands you called home. 

But Jakesully’s place among the People was not misguided — Eywa had made her call, and you had heard it. Eventually, the things she saw in him came to light, in ways you never imagined or ever expected, but manifesting into reality all the same.

In actual fact, you realised after many months of Jakesully being part of the clan, that you, too, loved many things about him. 

For one, he pulled his weight. He avoided being useless like the plague, taking on roles that other clan members turned their noses up at, and completed them all with no complaints. He was also a man of all trades, from fishing, to hunting, to building. Word had it that Jakesully was particularly talented with his fingers in the beading department, and even nimbler when crafting. 

But, one of Jakesully’s more loveable attributes was his kindness, his compassion. It was a tremendous compliment to be a ‘good’ man or woman, and Jakesully fit the bill with perfect accuracy. It had amazed you how loving he was, how genuine and thoughtful and loyal an outsider could be. His efforts in the war had earned him his place as an Omatikaya, but his strong heart was what won everyone’s favour, including your own.

One of the things you really loved about Jakesully in particular was that he did not always ask unnecessary questions. His days of clumsiness felt worlds apart from the man he had become after the war, and you found it suited him, that maturity, the self-awareness to know when to speak and when to be silent.

If Jakesully knew that asking a question would lead him to no answers, he simply did not ask. And today was one of those days.

For four weeks now, you have been filled with an uneasy weight of dread. There is no doubt in your mind, no degree of uncertainty: you know that you are pregnant. And you cannot believe how stupid you feel.

It is one thing to be unmated and pregnant; it happened occasionally in the village, but was never met with hostility. When the Omatikaya were so used to functioning as a family, the question of parents never felt like a problem, so long as the child was raised with love. A mated pair was not necessary for this, although encouraged. 

But it is another thing to be unmated and pregnant with the child of a much older clan member, a clan member who was well respected, held no interest in you, and had just mated without your knowledge with somebody else.

Glaring into the wading river, you sift your fingers through the current and work in silence, hoping that the monotonous routine of washing bowls will force your thoughts elsewhere. But they keep pulling back to the same pressing concern, the same overwhelming fear of what is growing inside of you. How are you ever going to explain this to the Tsahìk?

There was no option of telling the father. It would be a challenge in itself trying to convince him to even look at you — he hadn’t done so since the night you conceived the wonder inside your stomach, not since he stood up for the clan to hear a few days later and announced his union with a much prettier, much more suited clan member, Tsu’sley. 

And the Tsahìk is no idiot — the child has come from somewhere, so from where and whom?

The soft tread of footsteps behind you barely registers until they are directly behind, your tail whipping the ankles of the approaching Na’vi. You turn, startled, and see Jakesully drop into view on his haunches, a smile on his face.

He knows to find you here in the mornings, after months of figuring out where you’ll be. At first, you had been somewhat of an enigma to him. He hadn’t even known your name until Neytiri told him. 

From what Neytiri had said, you were a gentle thing, very loveable. Although he’d never personally met your family, Jakesully had heard through the grapevine that your father died when Kelutral, your Hometree, came down, and since then, your face became a stolen wonder in the village, your light extinguished and presence muted. 

His friendship had come as a surprise to you, considering there was nothing in his life gravitating him towards where you chose to work or lounge. But after showing his face once, you found it impossible to avoid him again. 

“Hey, you.” 

Like always, his foreign drawl makes you blink in surprise. Though Jakesully has become incredibly adept with speaking Na’vi, you supposed that what he liked about spending time with you was that he seldom needed to use it. You had been one of Grace’s more advanced students when her school was up and running — just another surprise for him to discover whilst trying to get to know you.

“Hello,” you mutter in reply, and almost immediately, Jakesully’s smile falls and his tail flicks from side to side uncertainly. Your eyes shift back to the water.

For a moment, he looks at you funny, his eyebrows pinched together. Then, he nudges his elbow against yours gently, the frown making his entire mouth slide down into a sad curve. 

“What’s up, sweet?” he asks. 

“I am fine,” you reply, voice low, hands tense beneath the water. Jakesully shifts on his feet slightly, as though trying to get a good look at your face, but you remain earnest in glaring at the river, hoping one of your problems might wash away with the grime on the bowls. “Do not stare at me.”

“…You’re being weird,” Jakesully observes, his voice seriously low and confused. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I am fine.”

“You sure?” He gently shifts his arm to yours and takes a hold of you. His grip is nowhere near firm enough to pull you away, but you look at him all the same, feeling your heart tug two ways.

The village loved Jakesully to no end — he was honest, he was kind, and he was a friend to many. And he was also your friend, and part of you knew that there was no way he would ever betray your trust. 

As you stare at him quietly, your eyes shift across his face, finding only his drawn expression of concern. His eyes are round and warm, all of his features noticeably upturned while he waits for your answer.

Jakesully is not an untrustworthy man. And more than anything, you want a friend you can rely on right now.

Still, you can’t will yourself to speak. Once you speak what you know into the world, it becomes real, and although you are fairly certain that you are pregnant, there is a small part of your heart that longs for it to not be true.

The wiry, thin lines of hair on Jakesully’s forehead rise to his hairline as you shift from his hands, glancing back at the current of the river. No part of you actually believes that he would tell people with malicious intent. You are confident that Jakesully has no malicious bones in his body, and yet, you just can’t take the risk.

First, before you tell anybody at all, you need to figure out what you’re going to do.

“I have much to do today,” you tell him, as his eyes run a risk assessment on your body as though he doesn’t believe you one bit. “I heard you are joining the tarpongu on a hunt today.” For a brief moment, you glance sideways to where Jakesully is still haunched, his expression pulled inwards with a thoughtful grimace. “You should not be late.”

“I’ve got time,” he replies.

It wasn’t the answer you were looking for, and the expectant widening of his eyes tells you that he knows it once you rise to your feet while scooping up the bowls.

“No time,” you tell him. He’s not stupid — you know that you should be trying harder to convince him that you’re fine, but even being near Jakesully right now, plagued by the overwhelming urge to confide in him, feels impossible. 

You slip past his arm as he stands to follow you, quick on your heels. “Go.”

“Look, I just wanna know that you’re okay—”

“Yes,” you hiss, turning to him sharply. He doesn’t blanch or flinch. He keeps his eyes firm on yours, desperately trying to figure you out before you vanish into the village. “Please. Go.”

Anything Jakesully might want to say to you is cut short with your quick strides out of the riverbank and back into the village. It is particularly buzzed today, flush full with villagers tending to their daily chores or readying for the upcoming hunt. Not only will the Olo’eyktan’s hunt grant you peace and quiet from Jakesully’s pestering concern, but it will also eliminate the possibility of Tsu’tey or Neytiri coaxing the truth out of you first. 

Your heart is hammering inside of your chest as you scurry past the growing party, their pa’li kicking their hooves across the dirt impatiently whilst the hunters prepare their gear. Passing by them without catching someone’s eye is the hardest part, but luckily, you evade notice and make your way back to your kelku, trying to keep your breathing in check as you go.

Then, as soon as the thick, waxy leaves surrounding your kelku from the clan fall into place and the chatter of outside muffles, you sink to the woven floor and bring your knees to your chest. Now, the panic can really begin to sink in.

Eywa has given you a gift, although it does not feel like it. Since the war, since so many lives were lost to the tawtute’s and their metal monsters, you are well aware of how valued a child is to the clan, how important it is to repopulate the Omatikaya. If it had been with anybody else, the child inside of your stomach would be cherished and loved without conditions, without fear. 

But to endure a nine month long suffering with a child you did not prepare for, alone, with no father to speak for them? Stupid is the only word to define how you feel. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The tarpongu come and go before night has settled, and beyond your kelku, the dazzling fire from dinner crackles with life, the ceremonious laughter of the villagers a wonderful tune to hear. And yet you remain camped in your kelku like a prisoner, feeling your stomach churning at the mere smell of meat over the flames. 

You can no longer bear it — this secret is consuming you. Just thinking about having to tell the Tsahìk and your Olo’eyktan fills you with a sizzling dread, and before you can even sit and think of a reasonable course of action, your feet are moving on their own outside of your kelku and out towards the tree line, whatever you have to throw up making its way from your stomach to your throat and to the floor.

It feels like the world is caving in on you as you empty your stomach, a high ringing in your ears dulling your senses. There is an ache rippling through your back as you hunch over on your knees, forced to stare down at the regret that has presented itself as a pile of bile-ish puke. 

How could you have let this happen? You’re nowhere near comfortable with finding your way in the village, have no idea where to put yourself and with who. As if it wasn’t humiliating enough, falling into bed with a much older, well respected, incredibly handsome clan member and being dumped indirectly; you just had to go and make it ten times worse by having his baby.

Thinking of him makes the tingling reemerge under your jaw and out you heave more pools of vomit. It’s a wonder that there’s anything to even bring up, considering you passed up on showing your face at dinner tonight.

By not doing so, you should have realistically expected somebody to come looking for you, but for some reason, it had been the very last thing on your mind. It is still of little significance even when you feel a hand settling down between your shoulder blades, another brushing back the braids of hair falling across your face as you bow your chest over the floor, coughing up the last chunks of bile and breakfast. 

“Uh-oh, there we go.”

Shuddering out a breath, you heave in a lungful of air and look to the right, catching sight of Jakesully’s eyes sweeping over your face and body, a look of sincerity like a mask over his features. Of course it’s him — who else would come looking for you?

“It’s okay, get it out,” Jakesully says, practically coos, as he rubs his hand down your spine like you’re a fragile thing. 

You’d be embarrassed to be throwing up in front of him if you weren’t by all miracles relieved that it’s him and nobody else. There’s no way anybody else would still be hunched by your side in a silence of solidarity. 

You go to say something to him, the words catching in your throat suddenly and coming out an incoherent babble. Jakesully’s eyebrows pinch together with worry.

“Hey, hey. Take it easy,” he murmurs, brushing his hand across your forehead while the other settles on your lower back. “Just breathe, alright?”

Everything inside of you wants to protest, but instead, you nod your head with a pitiful blubber. Jakesully has never seen you like this before, and you hate it. Showing him a moment of weakness is nothing short of humiliating, another thing to berate yourself over. 

Though, he looks far from put off. If anything, Jakesully looks frantic and anxious, which somehow makes you feel worse.

“Alright,” Jakesully says quietly, once you’ve managed to gather yourself again and are breathing normally. You fall back on your behind with a shaky sob, tail curled low on the floor, meanwhile Jakesully fidgets until he’s managed to successfully angle your body away from the vomit and towards him. 

He dips his head to find your eyes, locked firmly on the weedy grass between your bodies, and once he’s found you, he smooths his hands around your face in a cradle and frowns. 

“You sick, or somethin’?”

It would be a great lie. A natural lie, perfectly timed. But you shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you desperately try to keep a cry stored in there. It’s bad enough that Jakesully has seen all that he has — the very least your body could do is grant you a second of grace.

“Maybe you ate something bad,” he suggests, mostly thinking out loud. “You okay, honey?”

Your head continues to shake, so much so that Jakesully assumes you’re tapping out of the conversation to cry again, but his ears prick as you sniffle and dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, shutting the image of him out entirely.

“I am scared, Jakesully,” you confess. Once the words leave your mouth, a weight eases off your shoulders.

He cocks his head questioningly, hands falling to your wrists to free your eyes. 

“Why?” he asks, voice so quiet it tells you he’s doing his best to keep this private. Dinner should be ending soon with the way the noise has become more scattered, and you’re grateful of Jakesully’s loyalty more than ever in that moment.

You steady your breathing and peer at him. Telling him would be so easy, so freeing. His face has hardened into a look of intense worry — you haven’t seen him look so on edge since Tsu’tey’s awakening after the war. 

Dropping your gaze to his hands, you take a breath and take the risk. Sooner or later, someone will have to know. Why not tell someone you like and trust first?

“I am with child, Jakesully,” you tell him very slowly. “It is very bad.”

His thumbs cease in their little circular movements on your wrists and you watch his body stiffen immediately. 

Well. At least it’s out.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispers, shocked in a way you did not expect. For some reason, perhaps morbid curiosity, you look up at his face and refrain from sobbing at the look you see on it — a look of pure, blatant surprise. 

Of course he’s surprised. Who wouldn’t be? You are an unmated, single woman in the clan, and Jakesully spends a more than fair chunk of his time following your shadow around. It had been a literal miracle that you had even found the time to be alone with someone without Jakesully finding out about it.

Until now, in the wake of his confusion, it hadn’t felt personal. The look on his eyes, however, tells you that he might be thinking differently.

For a while, Jakesully says nothing, and neither do you. The intensity of his gaze eventually becomes too much and you look away, feeling the tears lining your eyes with a belittling sting, but just as you try to pull your hands free from his, Jakesully’s hands tighten around yours and all at once, you’re looking back into his eyes.

“…Are you seeing someone?” is what he decides to ask. He frowns when you shake your head. “Did somebody hurt you?” His hands tighten, and you wince slightly.

“No, Jakesully.”

He deflates with a sigh of relief. “Okay.” 

You wonder what he might be thinking as he assesses you, his eyes helplessly flicking down to your stomach. To any ordinary person, you look fine. Healthy, if he had to be extremely analytical about it. Of course, the first person to notice any real difference was you, the curve of your tummy barely visible, but noticeable all the same.

“Well…” Jakesully starts cautiously, thinking, and you grimace back with shock when he smiles genuinely and says in a breathlessly affectionate tone, “well, that’s great news, sweetheart.”

“No, Jakesully,” you tell him, shaking your head so violently he’s worried you might end up puking again. “This child has no father to speak for them. This is terrible news.”

Suddenly, his eyes narrow into slits. “The father has refused you both?”

“He does not know,” you breathe, feeling your lungs tighten, “and he never will.”

To be honest, you were expecting Jakesully to say something regarding that, but nothing comes. Instead, he opts for staring at you thoughtfully, his grip loosening around your wrists once he remembers how hard he’s holding onto you. 

Giving it some thought, you have to suspect that Jakesully probably doesn’t know what to say. As far as you’re aware, he’s never had children of his own, never made plans for a family. He probably doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better, which is why he’s so silent.

“Have you told anyone?” Jakesully asks after a while.

“No. Only you, Jakesully.”

He frowns. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Jake is fine.”

“...You cannot tell anyone about this,” you blurt, frantic now what he’s asked has sunk in. 

He moves, bristles slightly as he weighs his options. His eyes flicker as you reach for him by his forearms.

“Please, Jake!”

“Well, we gotta make sure you’re all good in there,” he explains. He seems to have perked from the graduation from Jakesully to Jake in your vocabulary, but there’s little time to broach the subject, not when he can think of so many other things that take precedence. “Mo’at will need to check you over. And your chores have gotta change, too, eventually, and you’ll need—”

“It is my choice, Jake,” you urge, so frantic your fingers are pressing deeply into his arms, the dark shade of his blue skin going milky white. His frown deepens. “Please. Please, say nothing. I need to think.”

It is painfully obvious how difficult Jake finds agreeing to what you’re asking of him. His brows curve inwards as he stares at you, and you feel your heart clenching with fear when he bows his head and sighs, mostly to himself, and gently squeezes his hands around your arms.

“Okay,” he mutters, with reluctance. You know his reluctance comes from a place of concern rather than spite, but the fact that he’s promised his silence is all that matters, and you instantly relax. 

Jake was right, in a way. Eventually, there would be no question of having to tell people. The bump would give it away before you did, and accommodations would need to be made. But, before any of that can happen, you at least want to feel prepared for it.

You send Jake off to his own kelku before it gets too late, and miraculously, what worries you as he trudges away is not the possibility of him sharing your secret. Instead, it is the fear of Jake changing how he feels about it. 

He has seen you so openly, so transparently, and for the first time since you met him, you feel the panicked rush of fear for losing him. Your only true friend, your single ally.

A few days pass from that moment spent hurling up your worries into the mud, and your run-ins with your People have become sparing.

The village moves on with a pulse of energy, the villagers preparing for the upcoming Weytelempongu of this eclipse cycle in a few weeks time; the hunters gather and gallop across the forests every other day, and the weavers and crafters sit on their mats making beaded wraps and necklaces, trinkets for the festivities — all while you remain at home, trying to come up with a plan.

Across your four days of self-imposed exile, there have been curious visitors. First, your mother, anxious in your absence and overbearingly fussy. Then, Neytiri, frowning for your uselessness as of late, though those weren’t her exact words. Then, your close friends from the water banks, the elderly healer who shadowed Mo’at assessing your paled form with beady eyes, before finally, the person you’ve been most anxious and desperate to see stumbles through your kelku with an armful of cloths, and an arrangement of moss and vines tangled over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Jake says quietly, dropping the gifts he’s brought with him to the floor with an ungracious thud. You curl your legs up to your chest as the moss untangles by your feet, and Jake crouches to pile it all together as he continues with, “how’re you feeling today?”

Since making Jake promise not to tell anybody about your recent…affliction, he has met your face with a strain. You almost felt guilty about it at one point, the drawn look of worry on his face so deep and strong that it had been the single cause of another cough of vomit. He’d schooled his features into relaxing, muttering something about straining your stomach with retching, before he patted your shoulders and sighed. 

What’s important, though, is that he has kept his promise. Courageously, too, because you know that after being accepted by the village for the second time after the war, lying became a rejected habit of Jake’s. 

“Better,” you tell him honestly. “I have not had sickness today.”

“That’s good,” Jake replies, smiling instantly. “Real good. I brought you some stuff — we gotta baby-proof this place.”

“Baby-proof?” you frown.

Jake unravels the cloths and steps around you, setting them down on the small ditch you’ve made your bed. It is already comfortable for you, smothered in woven blankets and carpets of moss, but you have to admit that once Jake has arranged the new cloths and moss around your mattress of comforts, it does look more inviting.

“I see,” you say, admiring his handiwork, “thank you, Jake.”

Jake’s smile widens. “No problem.” Then, he begins to fidget. It is so oddly reminiscent of the first time you met Jake that you have to blink back the fond memories just to make sense of it. He looks suddenly awkward. 

“Listen,” he begins, falling to his knees before your curled body, “I won’t ask you any questions. I don’t wanna cause you any stress or discomfort. But I wanna help you through this. You don’t need to ask for anything in return, and I’m not doing it to offend you or upset you.” 

Jake’s hands twitch until he finds the confidence to grab your hands. He’s done this before many times, but now, the touch of his skin sends a jolt through your body like a fork of lightning. On his face is the most serious expression you’ve seen him wear since he stood in front of the Vitraya Ramunong and declared war. 

“You’re my strongest friend,” Jake says, his eyes boring into yours. You fight the urge to squirm from the intensity of it. “My best friend. And watching you suffer is literally so painful for me. I don’t care what you need or what you ask, I’ll do anything. Just, please, don’t shut me out. Let me help you.”

You’re not quite sure if the tears springing to your eyes are because of Jake or the pent-up feelings brewing inside of you, but regardless, the pearls of tears tumble from your eyes without warning, and before Jake can even try to reach to wipe them away, you surge forward and throw your arms around his neck, pressing your face deep. 

Jake smells like the forest — an almost sickening concoction of ferns and berries and salted butter from his morning bathe. The powders on his skin are chalky against your cheek, but you inhale his scent, his assurance of safety, and warm when he slides his arms around your waist and holds you tight against his body. 

“Are you—are you crying?” he asks, bewildered.

You sniffle, “No.”

Beneath your chest, you feel his body bouncing with quiet laughter, but you can’t will yourself to chide his teasing. After all, you’re so hopelessly happy that Jake is here, that he’s so kind and caring and open to guiding you through what you think might be the worst thing to happen to you since your father died.

“I am happy,” you mutter against him, hoping to reassure him. 

“That’s what I was hoping,” he replies, his lips brushing over your shoulder sweetly. 

Jake holds you there for as long as you want him to, which happens to be a while. The village vibrates with noise outside of your kelku; the Weytelempongu is weeks away, but there is still much to be done in preparation for it. 

When Jake finally feels you stirring and loosens his hold to look at your face, he keeps his smile level as he watches every twitch or fall on your face.

“Jake,” you start, and his attention piques. “I would like to ask you something.”

His eyes widen in acknowledgment, his smile lifting. “Anything you want.”

Asking feels so frightening — it means putting your reality into motion, letting the world know your hardest secret to keep. You look at Jake thoughtfully for a second, heart hammering so loudly in your chest you have to glance down to see that it’s not pressing against your body, trying to break free.

“I would like to visit the Tsahìk,” you tell him. He relaxes. It’s not such a hard request, he’d barely have to do anything to make it happen, either. Then you add, “And I would like it if you came with me to see her, Jake.”

You can’t speak on his behalf, but the air around you goes so still that you hold your breath anxiously. 

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Jake going with you to see the Tsahìk; for one, it would put you at ease knowing you are not alone, that a friend isn’t far away. But on top of that, he can be someone to come to your defence, should the Tsahìk feel a certain way about your unexpected pregnancy. Which you’re honestly expecting.

Fortunately, Jake barely flinches. He blinks, as if processing your request, before curling his lip in that boyish way he does and says, “Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna go now, or later?”

You catch your jaw before it can fall to the ground. His reply came so easily that it surprises you. Even more surprising is the eagerness in his eyes — you might’ve once thought of Jake’s strange interest in your pregnancy to be bothersome. You certainly didn’t feel eager to watch your stomach bulge and ankles swell. But now, it’s as if a foggy haze has cleared and you can see him clearer than you ever have before.

Jake is worried for you. Worried for his friend — and another wave of guilt hits you. Before you is a man who wants the best for you, and you’ve been busy trying to pick apart his concern and twist it into something awful.

“Now,” you suggest meekly. “Only if you are not busy.”

Jake’s already pulling at your hands to stand. “This is way more important than anything else I could be doing, trust me.”

You ought to remind Jake that his daily routine as of late has been built according to the urgency of each task, but you keep your lips sealed tight as he pretty much pulls you from your kelku and, with grace and care, leads you like a bodyguard across the village and towards the Tsahìk’s Hut.

Fragrant oils fill the air warding the Tsahìk’s Hut from the main pavilion of the village; aromas heavy with salt and spices, cinnamon and burnt barks fill your nose, and squeezing Jake’s hand is the only thing keeping you from reeling with nausea. Jake’s fingers tighten around yours slightly, his voice tight yet kind as he greets passing villagers.

Eyes are pointed on you from every direction. Most likely because Jakesully is leading the village’s enigma to the Tsahìk’s Hut by her hand. The grass flattens with a yellow tinge the closer you get to the hut, and a grey billow of smoke pours from the doorway menacingly.

You’ve never enjoyed coming here, even when you were a child. Mo’at’s tent was a dark wonder of smells and sights, scary incantations and prayers that felt nightmarish at a time. Even now, Mo’at’s incoherent mumbling sends chills up your arms as the doorway widens into view.

Jake stands in the middle, his gaze fixing inside the hut, where more than Mo’at can be seen. Framing the Tsahìk is her daughter, Neytiri, her gaze low on a bowl of red powder, and, perhaps the biggest surprise of all, Tsu’tey. His head is between his shoulders, lulled back, while Mo’at mutters and presses into his muscles with her long fingers. He hisses in pain, the muscles swollen and hard, and Jake gives you a silent glance over your shoulder.

Before you can even do anything, Neytiri’s eyes flicker up to where Jake is standing and her hands pause. The Tsahìk stops, her eyes shifting to her daughter before swiftly sweeping to the door. She bristles, looks at Jake in confusion, and silently stares as you shuffle behind his wide back and into view, a cautious hand on his waist.

“Jakesully,” she calls. She looks at you closely, says your name like a prophecy, and moves her hands from Tsu’tey’s sore joints. The Olo’eyktan looks up, too, his gaze drawn to your name. “What brings you to me?”

Jake drops your hand quietly. “Tsahìk. Olo’eyktan. Neytiri. Forgive us, I didn’t know you had company.”

Mo’at raises her hand weakly, “It is forgiven, Jakesully. Now tell me.”

The party make room for you and Jake to usher inside; Tsu’tey clears the floor by standing, his body tense as he looms over his place, meanwhile Neytiri shifts the bowls and stands by his side, gently touching his back with her hand.

Jake offers you an encouraging glance and says, in Na’vi as if to please Mo’at further, “I am not here for me, Tsahìk.” Once Mo’at is made clear that you are her intended patient, her eyes turn scrutinising as she looks you up and down, “She is…sick, Tsahìk.”

“Yes,” she replies bluntly, beckoning you forward. “Come to me, child. Come.” Her waving becomes bossy, and you silently step in front of her and feel Jake’s hand brush past your kuru warmly.

Mo’at has been a friend of your family since before you were even born, a fact known by all in the village. There is nothing she hasn’t seen with you, no grievance or illness uncured.

You had almost died once when the unknown illness spread and ravaged the villagers, and Mo’at had gone to great lengths to nurse you back to health. So, it is safe to say that she misses nothing when you appear before her in the sunlight beaming down from the roof.

Her gaze is so heavy and probing that you know with complete certainty that she already knows. Still, Mo’at looks at you with her typical unimpressed expression and demands to know what is wrong.

You glance nervously to the left. Both your Olo’eyktan and his wife are standing close by. You’ve been dreading telling each person in this tent other than Jake about your pregnancy — having all three present at once feels like both a blessing and a curse.

“…I am…” you start, feeling your chest constrict nervously. The nerves are powerfully overwhelming, and you stumble, lightheaded, and catch yourself on your knees before your Tsahìk. She drops, too, to meet your gaze, and out the corner of your eye you see Neytiri and Tsu’tey creeping closer in worry on their haunches.

“It is okay, child. Speak with me.”

You inhale. Feel your lungs fill with air tightly. Think about Jake standing behind you so loyally, so fiercely. Exhale, and then tell her in the simplest way you can, “I am with child, Tsahìk.”

There is a beat of silence before Neytiri gasps in shock. Tsu’tey’s head jerks back with surprise, his eyes wide and braids clinking together, but your gaze is held low on the space between you and Mo’at. She simply hums in a low tone.

“I thought so,” she says after a moment, sounding incredibly unaffected. 

There is a lump so big in your throat that it’s difficult to swallow back your tears. The mat beneath your feet turns blurry as your eyes fill, though they only fall once you feel Jake’s hand falling on the space between your shoulder blades, his body crouching next to you.

“Tsmuke…” Neytiri starts, but the words trail off. 

“Yes. It is true,” Mo’at affirms after a few seconds of examining your stomach and fondling the slight swell of your breasts. After a minute, however, she sighs. “Oh, ‘itesyìp... Who is the father?”

That’s when you pause. The noise in the tent rushes out like the ocean calling back the waves, a silence ringing loudly in your ears. They might be talking around you, but you can’t be sure. All you can focus on is how the world feels like it’s rolling over, and you’re about to slide off into the endless void around it.

The image of him conjures in your mind. A man so strong, so commanding, so respected; a man who did nothing but disrespect you, a man who has ruined your life and broken your heart.

The lump worsens in your throat, and like breaking free from the waves, the noise rises into recognition around you in time for you to hear Jake say three words that will change your life:

“I am, Tsahìk.”

Your head whirls to stare at him in shock. As does Moat’s, Neytiri’s, and Tsu’tey’s, each with varying degrees of expression. 

“You are?” Mo’at repeats, looking at you imploringly. “Is it true?”

Saying yes will ruin Jake’s life — you know it. To claim a child that is not yours for a woman you do not love? To condemn yourself to a life you never intended to live? All for what, the sake of a friend in need? Your heart squeezes painfully.

On the other hand, saying no will lead to even more chaos, even more unnecessary agony. It would mean being honest; exposing the man who lay you down by the lake, exposing Jake as a liar…

Jake’s face is hard and sure when you look at him, hoping he might do something to spare you the decision. When he looks at you and says nothing, you fear your heart might speed up too fast and simply give up beating.

“…Yes, Tsahìk,” you manage out eventually. “It is true.”

She barely misses a beat, “And so, this union has been made before Eywa herself?”

You suck in a deep breath at that. She’s gone and done it — mentioned Eywa knowing you are forbidden from lying about her or to her.

“It has not, Tsahìk,” Jake says quietly. His eyes shift to Mo’at’s face for a second, and when you join him, you immediately wish you hadn’t.

You’ve never seen Mo’at look so affronted, so lost for words. You wonder what is shocking her more: the fact that you are pregnant or that Jakesully is saying he is the father. 

Jakesully, once an outsider, a Dreamwalker, an enemy, going around and knocking up the daughter of a loved and missed clan member without Eywa’s blessing. If she weren’t Tsahìk, she’d need a seat to process the information.

Across the hut, Neytiri’s face twists angrily. Her whole body drops to a crouch, surging forward to hiss in Jake’s face, her arm in front of you protectively. The whole ordeal is simply astonishing, but Jake barely flinches, just blinks and looks at her blankly.

“You skxawng!” she practically screams, her eyes full of golden fire. “Stupid, stupid! I told you to leave her alone! You…” Neytiri trails off, breathless and infuriated. 

Tsu’tey reaches for her shoulder and reigns her back in with a gentle grunt. Though she looks far from finished; her chest rises and falls with a degree of rage you’ve never seen on her before, not even when you watched the village strap Jake and Grace to a pole before Hometree came crashing down.

Helplessly, you look at Jake. He looks completely normal, unbothered, taking Neytiri’s words with stride. You feel endlessly guilty. None of this is his fault, all of it is yours. 

Without thinking, you reach for Jake’s hand and clamp yours around it, gaze sliding away when his eyes jump towards you.

He has sacrificed his life to be here with you, for you. The very least you could do is show him just how grateful you are for it.

“It is done,” you say quietly. “Jakesully is not at fault, tsmuke. He is a good man. He will be a great father. I know this.”

She growls again, like an angry animal. Mo’at raises her hand flatly to silence her.

“Lucky, your Olo’eyktan is here,” Mo’at says after a tense pause. “You may ask his blessing.”

Yes — blessings. In your mind, there have been a lack of them as of late, though, your chest tightens with another bout of anxiety when you peer over in Tsu’tey’s direction. 

Like always, his expression is unreadable, tight and flat. After Jake’s selfless efforts in the war, Tsu’tey has learned to love Jake like any other villager, but even he turns to Jake with a soured look of disappointment over his features. 

Tsu’tey sighs heavily. “Jakesully, you are a strong warrior. And you led the People to a great victory against the Sky People. This, I cannot ignore.” His eyes study Jake intently, occasionally bouncing in your direction as a frown deepens over his lips. “There are no rules in this clan against unmated families. But, your chosen woman is special to these People.”

Though you’re inclined to believe that Tsu’tey might be overselling you, you have to wince and admit that he’s right, in a way. The wound created by losing your father in the fall of Hometree has festered and become an ugly sore, a grief that Neytiri and Mo’at feel like their own. Many innocent lives were lost — losing so many elders, so many leaders… 

Your family have been one of the hands holding up the Omatikaya for years. Though reluctant to admit it, Tsu’tey is far from wrong — the Omatikaya people look to you for an example. And what a poor job you’re currently doing.

Jake doesn’t even falter; he blinks at Tsu’tey and nods firmly. “I understand, brother. And I agree.”

“Then you must understand to treat her well,” Tsu’tey finishes without missing a beat, looking so serious that if it weren’t for the heavy tension in the hut, you might’ve laughed. “Better than any other woman. And…your family becomes your fortress. I do not understand Sky People’s indifference to family—” This he delivers with a bristle; the story he heard from Jake about families torn apart, mothers and fathers separated, children without parents, they were unfathomable and simply unheard of for the Omatikaya, “—and it is not our way. Do not forget this. Jakesully, tsmuke…” 

Tsu’tey sighs again,  “You have my blessing.”

It takes everything not to go limp at Tsu’tey’s feet and sob; you keep your eyes firmly pinned to Tsu’tey’s feet, trying to keep your tears from surfacing, your hand tightening around Jake’s like a vice. His thumb brushes over your knuckles softly, but he remains looking at Tsu’tey determinedly. 

After a while of fussing from Mo’at and conspiratory whispering from Neytiri, you shuffle to your feet with Jake in tow — Neytiri’s heart is in the right place, of course; although she trusts Jake, you know that her protectiveness comes from a good place. After Sylwanin’s death, you suppose you fell into place in Neytiri’s family, becoming the sister she missed, becoming the person she needed to pretend was her older sister, her rock.

The air clears immediately once you step free from Mo’at’s hut, and after a few steps down the trodden path and towards the village, you let out a ginormous breath and let your eyes flutter closed. The world is spinning beneath your feet rapidly, the surrounding forest spiralling. Your hand immediately grabs Jake’s arm for support, and he stops, his gaze heavy on your face.

When you open your eyes and the world shifts back into focus, you find his look of concern and feel your bottom lip curl into a pout. In a way, you cannot believe it took getting pregnant to realise just how insanely perfect Jake really is. The memory of him coming to your side, holding your body whilst claiming the child you thought would be born unwanted is enough to make your eyes water again. You’re content in blaming your hormones for the amount of times you’ve cried in front of Jake lately, too.

Stepping into his arms is the easiest thing in the world, and he welcomes you instantly, curling his hands around your back and letting you rest your forehead against his shoulder. His heart is thumping out of place in his chest — you can feel it pulsing through his entire body in a rush.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I owe you a great—”

“You owe me nothing,” Jake interrupts firmly, his voice still low and deep above the shell of your ear. “Nothing at all. M’kay?”

“But… What you have done for me today, I—”

Jake pushes you away slightly, creating a gap wide enough for him to look at you with a disapproving frown. “Hey. I’d do anything if it would make your life easier. You’re not gonna do this alone, I swear.”

Nodding, you stare at his face, half-expecting him to crack into a smile and claim it all a huge hoax. But he doesn’t, of course. All Jake does is smile and brush a thumb over your cheek as a tear slips from your eye.

“What now?” Jake asks quietly. You pause — what now, indeed?

Mulling the question over in your head, you stand in front of him for a second and think. Then, it’s as if someone is setting stones down in your stomach, a new wave of nausea rising.

“Now…” you start. Shudder. Grimace. Jake’s head leans back in alarm when you toss Jake a very unhappy look and say, “We must prepare to have a baby.”

Oh. Yes.

Jake blinks. Nods. Blinks.

Shit.