#what i want is to just see what the previous person said in the tags and i don't want to have to fuckin' scroll to find itf

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

The First Meeting

Alright so finally, it appears my tablet is letting me upload. Chapter 7 of Dating App is ready. This chapter just didn't want to write itself and I am still not 100% happy with it. But it is here.

Warnings: None really, just gooey fluff

Prompt List

Master List

Tag List: @pear-1206

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

It had been three weeks since the two of you shared your first night together, and the following morning had been one of the best in your life. Rafael had made good on his promise to mark you up and then took you out for brunch. In the following weeks you had thankfully managed to see each other more than the previous few weeks, which both sets of coworkers were happy about. Lily especially as you had stopped getting so cranky at people in the library. And you had finally been able to make good on your promise to read to him after he cooks dinner at your apartment. Which the two of you had thoroughly enjoyed, plus the time in bed afterwards was just amazing. The two of you had explored so much getting to know each other’s bodies, and different things the two of you liked and didn’t like. You had both deleted the dating app together the morning after your first time. Each of you privately knowing that you didn’t want anyone else.

“Rafael, I must meet Liv,” you called out to him. Rafael walked out of the home office he had in his apartment to lean against the counter watching you cook dinner.

“Must you now, Chica?” he asked. You turned around from where you were stirring some sauce at the stove.

“Yes I must,” you nodded. “You talk about her a lot, and I know how much she has done to make sure we can spend time together. And I would like to personally thank her. Plus she is your best friend- don’t you dare try to deny that – and I would like to get to know my boyfriends best friend.”

“Boyfriend?” Rafael raised an eyebrow. You froze, spoon raised half way to your mouth when you realised what you said. Neither of you had spoken about terminology or if this relationship was serious, but you had been thinking about it since the first night you spent together. You wanted him to be your boyfriend, you wanted this it be serious. And if you were being really honest, you didn’t want anyone else.

“Oh, um, I mean-” you became flustered. “We haven’t talked about it but…I mean I don’t have to call you that. And I mean if you don’t want this to be serious, or-or if you are not ready to call it serious, we can just pretend I didn’t say that.”

Rafael grinned at you as he walked slowly towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist tugging you to him. He placed a kiss on your nose.

“Of course my girlfriend can call me her boyfriend,” he grinned. “I won’t lie I was putting off this conversation but not because I wasn’t ready for this particular talk but because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Then I guess this can be considered that particular conversation,” you perked up bouncing a little as you wrapped your arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips. “Boyfriend.”

Rafael smiled endearingly at you before letting you go, you turned back to the stove to continue cooking. He stepped up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned against your back watching you cook.

“So, meeting Liv,” you pressed. “Please?”

“Of course I want you two to meet,” Rafael smiled. “I’ll see if I can organise something with her for the weekend.”

“Maybe I could cook something?” you suggested. “Or do you think it would be better if we went out?”

“I think something here could be nice, and we can cook something,” Rafael smiled pressing kisses into your neck.

“Sounds good, now get gone before you distract me and I burn our dinner,” you giggled pressing back into him.

 “Keep that up and I’ll be all too happy for dinner to burn and we can buy take out,” Rafael growled.

“I have spent too much time on this!” you pouted. “And we are going to eat this.”

“Alright, alright,” Rafael backed away a cheeky smile on his face with his hands held up in surrender.

“Good man,” you wagged a finger at him. “Besides I know you have a case file to go through, dinner will be another…thirty minutes maybe.”

“Thank you sweetheart,” Rafael sent one wink your way before disappearing back into his home office.

--

“Oh, by the way you’re coming to my place for lunch on Saturday, Chica wants to meet you and wants to cook for you,” Rafael said just as Liv was about to leave his office. She paused, turned around with an eyebrow raised and crossed her arms.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Liv asked. “I could have had plans.”

“But you don’t,” Rafael shrugged. “Otherwise you would have mentioned them by now.”

“They could have been made last night or this morning,”

“Is this you trying to get out of meeting my girlfriend? I’m a little offended by that,”

“Girlfriend? So, it’s official?” Liv grinned walking back to the desk. “And no, I have been dying to meet her for ages, this is me being offended that you just assumed I was free.”

“Yes, we made it official last night,” Rafael’s tone briefly switched from the teasing scorn he had been using moments before to the normal soft, sweet tone he tended to use when talking about you. “Well, then you shouldn’t have an issue with coming to mine on Saturday for lunch.”

“I hate you,” Liv muttered. “Fine, Saturday, I’ll get there at 11:30. No complaints, and I’ll bring wine, does she prefer red or white.”

“No you don’t,” Rafael looked back at the paperwork on his desk. “She prefers red, I believe she is making a chicken dish.”

“Sounds delicious,” Liv grinned walking out of his office without any further conversation.

--

You were busy running around Rafael’s apartment, he had spent the morning cleaning it while you cooked lunch and prepared the dessert. You were putting the finishing touches on the table he had, as well as placing a few reed diffusers around the place, to make it more relaxing.

“Babe, she has been to my apartment before you know,” Rafael smiled watching as you nervously fluffed the cushions on the couch, rearranged the fake flowers on the coffee table before checking on the chicken again. He trailed behind you.

“Yes but never to meet me,” you said over your shoulder. “What if she doesn’t like me? What if the food isn’t good?”

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Rafael tugged you to him, cupping your cheeks. “Liv already likes you, the food you make is always amazing and she will love it.”

You opened you mouth to say something else but he cut you off with his lips, pressing against yours softly. He continued to kiss along your cheeks drawing a smile from you and helping to calm you down. Your arms wrapped his waist, as you leaned forward to kiss him back.

“Better?” he asked as he stroked along your cheeks.

“A little,” you nodded, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You were about to say something else when Rafael’s buzzer went off, you looked towards the clock on the oven you saw that it was just past 11:30, the time Liv told Rafael she would arrive. “Quick, go let her in!” you started pushing Rafael towards his front door.

“Alright, alright Chica,” he laughed, ducking to give you one last kiss before he went to allow Liv access to the building. “Are you going to answer the door with me?”

“I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?” you murmured, looking down as Rafael offered you his hand. You grinned, taking it and linked your fingers together as you waited by the door to let Liv in.

“I’ll do the introductions,” Rafael promised kissing the hand holding his. Not a moment later there was a knock at his door.

You felt your stomach knot in nerves at the sound, Rafael squeezed your hand once before letting it go to open the door. You had seen a picture of Liv on Rafael’s phone once or twice but those photos did not do the woman on the other side of the door any justice. She was stunning and had such a presence about her. You instantly felt safe in her presence.

“Liv,” Rafael smiled reaching forward to hug her before stepping aside and inviting her in. He shut the door behind her before stepping back to your side. “Liv this is y/n, chica this is Olivia Bensen.”

“It is so good to finally meet you,” Liv smiled, her eyes lighting up as she looked you. She held a bottle of wine that she quickly passed to Rafael. “Are you a hugger?”

“Same here, Rafi, talks about you a lot,” you grinned, the nerves slowly leaving your stomach. “And yes, I very much so am a hugger.”

Liv’s grin widened as she stepped closer to you and wrapped you up in a hug, squeezing you gently. Her hug had you feeling like you were wrapped up in warmth, you felt incredibly safe and secure in the older woman’s hold. You squeezed her back before letting her go, looking over at Rafael to see that soft little smile he has whenever he is happy and content, on his face as he looked at two of his favourite people. You had mostly been nervous about what happen if you meet Liv and she didn’t like you, she was such an important person in Rafael’s life, the only person who was more important would be his mother. And the thought of meeting her made you feel like nearly fainting.

“Right, lunch is just about ready, why don’t you two take a seat at the table, Rafael could you pour the wine?” you asked. “That should give it time to breathe.” You quickly hustled into the kitchen leaving the other two to make their way to the kitchen table.

“She is adorable,” Liv gushed quietly watching you check on the chicken dish and finishing up a few other things to have with the dish, she could just hear you quietly humming. “And that food smells delicious, can’t believe I finally get to taste her cooking. The others will be so jealous.”

Rafael grinned as he opened the bottle of wine and placing it in the middle of the table to let it breathe.

“Well, Chica was rather insistent that I introduce the two of you,” Rafael grinned. “I wanted to keep her to myself for a little bit longer but…I’ve recently discovered that I can’t say no to her.”

“I can see why,” Liv smiled at her best friend, while yes she was incredibly smug about being right about going on the dating app, mostly she was just glad that Rafael was happy. And probably the happiest she has ever seen him. “You know the others will want to meet her even more once they find out that I have.”

“Yes, well, they can wait longer,” Rafael huffed, though Liv could see that he loved the fact that the team was excited to meet his woman and he enjoyed the teasing the team gave him. He once told her that it made him feel like he was really part of the team and that the others genuinely did enjoy spending time with him, as he had seen them teasing each other for a while before they started doing the same to him.

“I’m going to help her,” Liv declared. She wanted to talk with you without Rafael around.

“I wouldn’t, she has this thing about guests helping,” Rafael told her but let her wonder into the kitchen regardless.

“Y/n, is there anything I can do?” Liv asked standing out of your way as you pulled some plates out of the microwave.

“Oh, no, don’t be silly,” you waved her away. “You are a guest, and it is nearly done.”

“I can at least help you carry the plates out,” Liv insisted.

“Rafael did mention that you were stubborn,” you laughed giving in, you watched her out of the corner at your eyes, checking to see if Rafael was anywhere near. “I actually did want to thank you, for getting Rafael on that dating app, and running interference for the first few dates we had.”

“Of course,” Liv said. “Rafael is a very important person to me, and I want him to be happy.”

“…I want him to be happy as well,” you whispered, eyes down at the plates you were currently serving the food onto.

“Well, I haven’t seen him this happy, ever,” Liv told you coming to stand beside you, grinning when you flushed at her statement.

“I was a little worried meeting you,” you confessed. “You’re his best friend, even if he won’t ever admit it.”

“I was a little nervous as well,” Liv assured you.

“Well, you needn’t worry, I liked you before even meeting you,” you giggled. “It was the moment he said you would be smug about the fact that he met someone on the dating app he didn’t want to go on.”

Liv smiled at you about to open her mouth when Rafael’s voice called out.

“How long are you two going to gossip about me?”

“Not much longer!”

“As long as we want to, love!”

“I never should have allowed you two to meet,” you could hear him muttering to himself.

You and Liv were still giggling as you brought in the plates, along with another plate that had nicely warmed bread rolls. You both rolled your eyes when you saw him pouting in his seat, as you placed his plate down in-front of him you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Oh stop pouting, Mr Lawyer,” you scolded him, dropping enough to whisper in his ear. “Or no dessert later.”

Rafael grinned up at you, his eyes darkened promising that dessert would be happening. Liv pretended not to witness the moment between the two of you. Her heart swelled to witness it, and it made her miss Tucker a little. The three of you picked up the wine that Rafael had poured while you and Liv were in the kitchen and clicked them together before taking a sip.

“Oh, that is a nice wine, Olivia,” you hummed. “I’ll have to take a picture of the label.”

“It was one that I got in Paris with Ed,” Liv smiled. “And please call me Liv.”

“You went to Paris?” you asked eyes wide. “Oh, I never did get to travel much out of England when I was over there.”

“Paris was amazing,” Liv said. “Have you wanted to go?”

“Always, it looks so romantic,” you sighed. “I always dreamed about waking up and walking to a café to have breakfast with the Eiffel Tower visible and then go to a park and just read in the shade of a tree.”

Liv threw a look at Rafael raising her eyebrows in a little wiggle before focusing on you again. Noting the far away look in your eyes and how they would slightly shift to Rafael before looking away, cheeks heating a little under the beautiful light make up you wore.

“Well, I hope you get go one day,” Liv picked up her knife and fork trying a piece of the beautiful cooked chicken. “Oh my god, this is delicious. Rafael how dare you keep her cooking from us every time you bring it to the station.”

“Rafi, how rude,” you teased winking at Liv. “Thank you, I’m very glad you like it. You’ll have to take some left overs.” Rafael didn’t even bother responding just stuffed some more food in his mouth, rolling his eyes but he still sent you tender looks, as his foot reached out to touch yours.

“Don’t have to offer twice,” Liv tucked back into the meal.

Rafael was watching you as he ate, plans and thoughts running through his head a million miles an hour. He however wasn’t sure if his plans were too soon to be thinking about, if asking you to go on a holiday with him should wait until maybe the 6 month mark. You had only been seeing each other for just under two months, but he could see the two of you in Paris together, having breakfast, reading a book in a park, going to museums and palaces, he would take you to all the wineries and buy you as many bottles as you wanted.

“So, Y/n,” Liv started interrupting Rafael’s train of thought. “How has Rafael been treating you?”

“Really Liv?” Rafael asked taking a sip of his wine. “With me in the room?”

“Aw, what’s the matter, worried what she may say?” Liv asked.

“No,” Rafael reached out and took your hand bringing it to his lips to kiss the knuckles, enjoying that that action can still make you flush.

“He’s been absolutely amazing,” you gushed. “Of course he teases and taunts but I give as good.”

“I don’t tease, Chica,” Rafael huffs.

“Darling, don’t lie, that’s a horrible habit for a prosecutor,” you stroked your fingers across his wrist and up his palm. “But in all seriousness, Rafael has treated me with nothing but respect, he is the sweetest man I have met. Always making me feel comfortable and adored. He has made me the happiest I have ever been.”

Rafael felt his heart stutter in his chest at your words, he knew that you were happy with him but didn’t realise the extent that he made you happy. He couldn’t look away from you, not even caring that Liv was witness to this little moment the two of you were having. He loved how you were never afraid to say what you were thinking and that you never hid your feelings.

“How cute,” Liv cooed a little, thoroughly enjoying this moment. “I was hoping for more to tease Rafi on but I will take this adorable little moment.”

“That’ll come when he isn’t here,” you promised. “Maybe we could grab coffee or cocktails?”

“That sounds fantastic, would you like to meet Amanda?”

“Yes I would! Rafi doesn’t talk as much about Amanda but I would love to meet the rest of the team,” you grinned sitting up, ignoring Rafael’s whine of complaint.

“There goes keeping you to myself for longer,” Rafael muttered, though his eyes showed that he was happy that you were excited to meet his friends and colleagues, he had lent towards you his hand taking yours again. You grinned at him, rolling your eyes at the childish behaviour from him. “I still get all of your food first though.”

“Fine I promise,” you sighed sending a grin towards Olivia as he raised your hand to his lips again, you thought you saw her phone pointed at the two of you but couldn’t be sure so you let it go.

[jackienautism]

“How did this all get so fucked up?”

[sharkneto]

hey can someone quick tell me how the fuck you're supposed to click to the previous reblog of a post now? i know staff explained they made this change that Clicking The Name Of The Blog Takes You To The Blog Now because it's "more intuitive" but I can't figure out where the new click spot is to just see the goddamn prev tags

[thecherrygod]

thinking about hdb while holding my head in my hands and suffering

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 1

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

tags: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, miscarriage, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: y'all, im back after ghosting this page for way too lonh cuz im on my process of taking psychology. yep! this random bitch is up for being a psychologist despite her mental health place amidst the fluctuating status. and you know what's crazy? my sanity is slowly decomposing! all thanks to that one mf and one chapter in which im not going to name about (gege and jjk chapter 261)

previous / masterlist / next

it all started when he started caring for you.

after being inside an arranged marriage for like five years, satoru was confident with himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is perfectly capable all by himself.

to say the least, the start of your marriage was a definition of an absolute disaster. clearly, you and satoru were like a magnet in the same pole, it can never collide despite how many efforts you push on both magnets.

from fights, misunderstanding, up to almost divorce after you caught him kissing another girl when you decided to give him a visit during his mission.

you were hurt, yes. but you would always tell yourself that neither of you want this marriage, so being hurt when there's no even love is called invalid. yet, you can't still help it but to feel somewhat jealous because he was supposed to be your husband—but oh well.

your family begged you to stay as it was for the peace of mind and safety of your clan. you snorted sarcastically as you wondered if they ever cared for your personal peace of mind and safety also.

nevertheless, you still stay inside this loveless marriage and maintain the gojo surname. you forgive him even though he's not explaining himself nor asking for your forgiveness.

as for satoru, he's aware that he's being a dick to you. his reason is that this marriage was his least priority as it was a hindrance for him. so basically and truth may hurt, he thinks you're only a hindrance and a distraction from the higher ups.

there were times where he would bury himself with work so he doesn't have to go to his original home and breathe the same air as you.

there were also times where he spent almost two months without seeing you or even communicating with you. it was like you didn't exist in his life nor he doesn't have a wife!

although, he is not that cruel to the point that he would slam the fact in your face. no, he's just leaving his presence until you feel it yourself that he doesn't want you.

his shenanigans would continue for almost a year until that night occurred.

that night when it was your wedding anniversary and he came home very late after fighting some annoying curse. he took a swearing underneath his breath when the stinky smell of curse blood hit his nose.

scrunching up as he was about to proceed to his own room (despite being married, you two sleep in a separate room) to clean up when he saw you up by the garden. you are currently watching how your little seedlings grow into beautiful flowers swaying along the air with a calm look on your face.

your husband broke the silence by asking you what are you doing this late. in which you replied that you couldn't sleep as you slowly looked at him.

satoru watched your face, it did not even flinch with any kind of emotion—nothing, just nothing. you're basically acting like a robot to him, and he hates it.

"i'll prepare a warm bath for you." you mumbled, standing on your feet and was about to leave when he grabbed your arm.

"i heard what happened earlier." satoru said slowly, as if he's being careful on his words which was very out of character for him.

"really? great." detaching from his hold, you left him no chance and instantly left.

"y/n." the man followed you until both of you reached the bathroom. you paid him no attention and just did the usual things you do, prepare him a bath.

"talk to me, please." his tone becomes soft, pleading. turning the water on, you refused to turn around, you refused to make physical contact with him, you refused to let him see the tears brimming in your eyes.

"go on. say what you want to say. i'm listening." you mentally curse yourself for almost stuttering. satoru looked at you, eyes finally unveiling an emotion. he aches to hold you for some reason but to think that he doesn't want to upset you even further, he stops. all he can do is watch you serve him.

"do you want to keep it?" he asked quietly, his ocean blue eyes dropping on your stomach. getting uncomfortable, you tried to hide it.

splash, splash, splash, you did not answer him.

"i said, do you want to keep it?" satoru asked once again. this time, his voice was a bit louder than before.

"i don't know. do you want to?" you asked him back the question, quietly.

your husband went quiet. having a child is not part of your plan but you have to because that's your purpose of marrying him, to bear an heir. now, satoru was asking you nicely if you want to keep it when in the first place, it should happen this way.

"how many months?"

"two."

"and you didn't tell me?"

"do you want to know?"

"of course i want to know. that's literally my child in there." he pointed to your belly with a slight frustration on his face.

you did not say anything back, just continuing your duties as his wife—wife on papers. satoru was growing upset, tired, even angry at you. where was the talkative and fierce look that you have? where's the harshness in your voice? why do you look so vulnerable now?

"you can take a bath now. i'll be downstairs to prepare you dinner."

"y/n, wait—"

*slam*

before satoru could even stop you, you already left, leaving him in all silence. the husband heaves a deep sigh within him as he recollects the events prior to this day. he remembers how he acted when he discovered to ijichi that you went to the hospital and went back home with a pregnancy result in your pocket.

satoru remembers almost getting killed by the special curse when the news caught him totally off guard. you two only have intercourse when both are drunk after coming home from shoko's birthday and that's it. you also told him that you were on pills so he's relieved. but how?

what if—

no, no, no. you wouldn't. you wouldn't do that to him. you are his little loyal wife and even though both of you aren't on good terms, he trusted your loyalty…or was he? were you?

everything was so messed up that he couldn't think of anything even after taking a shower and now he's on his way downstairs to eat dinner. once he was in the kitchen, he saw you almost absentmindedly cutting the vegetables.

satoru took a seat, quietly. he was watching you as your back was facing him. his six eyes weren't dumb to notice how much weight you are slowly losing. unconsciously, satoru was clutching his fists tightly.

"i bought you your favorite milk tea. it's in the fridge, you can drink it later." your voice seemingly dropped him from his daze. satoru looked at you once more, only to find out that you're still not facing him back.

"o…okay, thanks."

minutes later, you place a plate of curry in front of him. satoru noticed that there's only one plate on the table, which was his.

"where's your meal?"

"i already ate." oh right, it was literally midnight now. you should be asleep by now, yet here you are, serving your husband. also, why does it seem like satoru was hoping to eat dinner with you? it is unusual, to be honest.

for your five years of marriage, you two would only eat together for formal matters. but with a simple domestic setting like this, there's no way a peace would occur if the two of you shared a table and a meal.

while he is eating, satoru watches you grab the said milk tea from the fridge and place it in front of him. "just leave the dishes on the sink. i'll wash them later." and with that, you left the dining room.

the food was great, it was very delicious. satoru can't deny that you're great at cooking, and you really have a specialty when it comes to curry like this. but why does this meal taste bitter? perhaps, was it because of the taste of his conscience? he doesn't know.

the six eyes ate in silence. he was planning to talk to you later about everything. but anyway, satoru has been eyeing the milk tea you bought for him. now this wasn't unusual. everytime you would go out, you would always buy him some of his favorites, mostly food.

like there's a time where you bought him his favorite mochi, crepe cakes, churros, ice creams—basically every dessert or food stalls you happened to pass by. it warms his heart, though. there's also a time where he anticipated what kind of sweet delicacy you would give him next.

anyway, satoru finished eating his meal. he was drinking the milk tea you gave to him while searching for you. he saw you sitting on the same spot when he first saw you this evening, by the patio of your garden. silently, satoru took a seat beside you with a mindful distance between you two.

"can we talk?" he started. in which you reply with a soft hum. satoru finds himself gulping, he sets aside his drink first before mimicking your posture—wrapping his arms on his folded legs.

"so um, since there's a baby now…i'd like to discuss this matter with you, properly. i was thinking about…moving you in one of the jujustu high's dorms." satoru nibbles the straw of the sugary drink, absentmindedly.

"it's for safety measures, since i'm not always at home and the risk will be doubled by now. but if you're inside the campus, a lot of sorcerers would be able to protect you." he added.

"okay." you did not even question him or even argue with him, you just simply agree without a second thought.

the man could feel himself gulping, the bitterness increasing despite the sweet liquid he was drinking. he's starting to get uncomfortable the way you are currently acting.

also, come to think of it, you agreed to temporarily live in jujustu high—does that mean you are keeping the baby? satoru couldn't help but to finally ask you.

"d…does that mean—"

"the baby has nothing to do with us. i'm not that cruel to take its life." before satoru could beat you, you already beat him.

"when will i be moving out?"

satoru gulped the growing rare anxiousness down to his throat. "probably next week. give me some time to deliver this news to the higher ups." you just mumbled an okay as your response.

"y/n, are you really sure about this?" the man couldn't really pinpoint your decision. although you made it explicit, he still couldn't comprehend you.

"i'm okay with anything. it's just you who didn't. also, if you are planning to ask me about keeping the child once again, go ask yourself instead. your decision is my decision." you replied.

satoru made a mental note that your voice sounds more tired than before. it kinda ignited something that he was not used to feeling before as literally a man-god himself who's full of pride.

"i'll be resting now. have a good night." he did not stop you, in fact, he thinks it's for the better. satoru could only follow you by his gaze as you enter your own room.

yes, your own room. the two of you did not share the same room. you two couldn't even bear to eat together, what more on sleeping together. this is not what satoru meant when he asked you to talk. but oh well, guess he should also call this a night. with that, satoru retreated to his own room and slept.

fast forward, you moved to jujutsu high and started teaching as a history teacher in a world full of related curses(suggested by satoru) since you're an alumni at this school like your husband. you like that idea too since it's a great way to distract yourself from everything.

currently, you are watching your third year students train themselves along with the second years and the first years. it was quite a good sight since all of them have a nice and strong potential as a sorcerer.

suddenly, one of your husband's students came to you with a big smile on his face. that must be yuuji, the vessel for the infamous king of curses. you always adored him, he's a good kid. but you couldn't help but to be saddened by the fact that he was literally carrying a big burden over his life.

"y/n sensei, good afternoon!" he waved at you before taking a seat nearby you. behind him, you saw his two other friends—your husband's students too.

"oi, you're being too loud." megumi scolded his friend. he was worried that yuuji's loudness was too much for your situation, your pregnancy.

"it's fine, megumi." you just chuckled. "i have some extra chocolate bars here, you three can have it." the trio thanked you happily, while you just smiled in return.

"by the way, we have a question for you, y/n sensei." yuuji said, munching on the chocolate. you asked him to shoot the question but he suddenly hesitated, looking at his two friends for support.

when he received the support he needed, he took a deep breath. "y/n sensei, we were wondering about your husband a-and…" yuuji trailed off. you already know what he meant, so you didn't wait for him any further.

"oh, i suppose you are curious because you haven't seen my husband even though i technically lived here?" the smile still lingers on your face as you watch them nod their heads.

there's something that you forgot to mention to them, they don't know that their teacher is your husband and the father of your child. you were prepared for a situation like this, though.

megumi on the other hand, could've known this beforehand since satoru took care of him during his childhood. then your marriage came through and your husband was already taking care of megumi, but it was kept a secret to everyone—including him.

stroking your six months belly, a recent hobby of yours when you want to seek some comfort. "he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower me with love by making sure that we still communicate despite his busy schedule."

"lately, we've barely talked. yet, he promised me that he will finish all of his jobs and tasks before going home to me. probably that's when our child is about to be born." you sigh just to justify this facade.

the students seem to believe your story. although you're quite worried that they might tell this to gojo and your cover will be blown. you planned to talk about this to him, anyway.

"that must've been hard, y/n sensei." nobara mumbles out of sympathy. she was worried for you and your child due to the absence of your husband.

if only they knew that your experience was much harder.

"you could always come to us, y/n sensei. we will not hesitate to help you and your child." beaming brightly as the other two agreed, you really adore yuuji. the amount of softness he gave to you is something that your future child would like to possess.

"thank you, you three. now, you all better go back to training. i will be heading to shoko since i promised to visit her." watching as the three wave their good-byes to you, you couldn't help but to feel an urge to protect them at all cost. probably due to your maternal instinct but whatever, you just hoped they would stay safe.

another fast forward, you are on your way towards shoko's office to spend your free time. knocking softly on her wooden door, shoko opens the door with a smile on her face.

"how's my little mama doing?" she engulfed you with a hug, which you returned warmly.

"good. the morning sickness did not attack me today, thank goodness." you said as you took a seat on her sofa.

shoko also commented that she was happy too. as mentioned before, stroking your six month old baby bump is a must on a daily basis. you are now used with a thought and feeling of a growing child inside you.

"and how're you and dickhead gojo?" shoko changes the topic.

"we were just fine like i have said before."

your friend heave the deepest sigh you've ever known. "just fine? y/n, do you want me to say the like i have said before too?"

"sho, ever since we knew that we're having a baby, we really tried our best to be compatible with each other. but we just couldn't." it's true, on the exact tomorrow of that eventful night wherein gojo discovers your pregnancy, he tried to make it up to you by lessening the sparkling arguments, making sure you are well feeded, and even showering you with things your eyes would have landed on.

you are delighted, of course. even though he absolutely fails his duty as your husband, at least he's trying his best to be a good father for your child. you appreciate him for that and also start to open your heart and pour a little more trust to him.

however, you are not dumb to notice the faint smell of a female's perfume and lipstick stain on his neck whenever he's with you. your heart slowly closes once again and your little more trust shatters.

once you saw yourself crying silently—feeling betrayed and angry for yourself on trusting him shortly after that. guess old habits never die, you are crying about something you've already expected. self-blaming is an understatement for letting your guard absolutely down.

gojo's still a jerk even though you had his baby. i should've expected this. having a baby doesn't mean he's going to change for me.

"we both tried, sho—we both tried. but we just couldn't." your voice dropped its tone once more. you still felt bitter even if it happened way back like two months ago.

"or he just couldn't." she snorted sarcastically.

you both knew she's right, gojo just couldn't. for years of being married, you unfortunately learned how to love a man like him who doesn't even give a one shit about you. tragic. very fucking tragic. if only you could see yourself directly, you would laugh at her nonstop.

"maybe this marriage is meant to be loveless—"

*slam!*

"yo shoko, i need—oh…" the door suddenly bursts open as it reveals your hot issue for today and probably for the rest, your husband gojo. you could tell that he was also surprised (but he shouldn't be) to see you here in shoko's infirmary.

"learn to fucking knock, gojo." shoko hissed at the white haired male.

"oh sorry. am i interrupting something?" he asked, looking at everything but you. he refused to spare you even a small glance, which you kinda do the same.

"you're not. now what do you need?" shoko was the one who answered him.

before gojo could even open his mouth , you already excused yourself. "i'll be taking my leave now. thanks for the check up, shoko." and then you left, leaving shoko and gojo with an awkward silence.

"aren't you going to talk about your business or maybe you want me to kick you out?" shoko sarcastically made a comment.

"right…" satoru cleared up his throat. for some reason, he doesn't know why he's suddenly getting iffy.

"ho…how's the child doing?"

"you have to be fucking kidding me." shoko groaned loudly. somehow, she expected this, but she couldn't believe that she would actually encounter this.

"y/n was just right there moments ago and you didn't even bother to ask her that yourself?!" the doctor could feel herself getting really annoyed. the truth may hurt but she's getting annoyed by the two of you.

fight here, ignore there—ignore there, fight here.

"bet she told you that we're not on good terms even though we really tried to work it out. yet, you're seemingly acting clueless." satoru snorted sarcastically. he's not dumb that you're telling stories to your friend, shoko.

the doctor rolled her eyes. she was this close from smashing his old friend's face to the wall to wake him up and stop being an idiot. "every fucking time, gojo. but that should not be an excuse to not talk to her. you two are still married for god's sake, and now, there's even a child along the way. i can see how much effort y/n has put in your marriage, you must do the same."

"don't you dare to compare her efforts to mine, you know nothing." he growls.

"but i sure know how shitty you are."

something inside satoru snaps. "why are you being angry at me?! you've been like this since we got married. always defending y/n, but what about me?! i have been your friend since highschool and you just met that girl! wouldn't it be unfair to side with someone whom you just met?!"

"you're asking me that when you have six eyes and yet, you can't see how much she suffers from you?!”

“but what about me? am i not suffering too?!”

how did we get here? things are getting pretty out of hand. two friends getting fired up because of a marriage that was about to fall apart. one being inside the marriage while the other one has the eye inside the marriage.

both shoko and gojo have their own sides but it all leads back to one thing, you are involved.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage. everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“just want, what? end your marriage by divorcing her?”

the moment the last syllables escaped her lips, she already knew the answer.

“fucking gojo.” shoko mumbles under her breath. “if you want to fix your life, you better not act dumb.”

satoru was still caught silent. his wide eyes trailed on the floor and unable to move. shoko saw how she hit the point. sighing over herself, she motioned the door. “get out, gojo. if you're gonna rethink your life choices, do it in your home with your wife.”

and with that, without a word, satoru left her clinic feeling heavy and defeated.

along the hallway, he saw you. satoru saw you looking at him with horror in your eyes—for the first time in one month, you finally looked him in the eyes, but it's filled with fear and tears.

“y/n, i—” just like what he had done before he left shoko's clinic, you left without saying a word.

satoru felt everything become hazy, his knees were trembling, his six eyes were stinging, his lips were turning white on how hard he bites them. the man shuddered in disappointment, you must have heard everything.

his feet act on their own and chases you, holding you by the wrist. but it was torn away immediately after you forcefully snatched it back. while doing so, satoru didn't fail to notice the hot tears streaming on your pale face, in which you immediately wiped it out.

“y/n, i-it’s not what you think. i…” as much as satoru would like you to hear himself, he hasn't gotten the words. he was left stuck by his own thoughts and self-doubt that he puts himself into shame.

meanwhile, you thought you could've just walked away from the scene. but from the moment you hear shoko and satoru exchange heated words, it gets you glued to the floor and unable to move. despite her clinic being semi-soundproof, you hear everything. even if you're not there in the room physically, you seemingly know everything.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

“y/n,” satoru called your name. his tone was very far from you used to. you grow accustomed to him saying your name venomously, but now it seems like he's saying your name delicately and vulnerable…and satoru hates being vulnerable.

“i know what you're thinking. i accidentally eavesdropped but i didn't t hear everything.” you internally praise yourself for being a great actress. you thank yourself for not stuttering and not sounding so dejected.

but you lied. you're a terrible liar. you heard everything. you heard every single thing that escaped his lips during his argument inside your friend's office. and you feel like dying, his words hurt you so much more than any deadly curses.

“have you eaten already? do you want me to prepare you for a bath?” satoru couldn't understand why the heck you still care for your wife duties when your husband, him, just broke your heart not so long ago?

you're acting absolutely strange in his eyes and he hates it. he hates how you would just bury or bottle your emotions. you're creating a facade and a labyrinth where you keep it by yourself.

“y/n, it's not time for anything. let's just talk please.” you hate it how he sounds like he's begging, but satoru never begs.

“let’s go to my room. let's talk this out—”

“gojo sensei! yaga sensei was looking for y—oh…” yuuji trailed his tracks when he saw you and satoru together.

“dummy! why do you just yell like that?!” megumi bonked his friend's head for interrupting your talk.

wearing your mask again, you smiled at the duo then brushed yourself away from the scene. satoru couldn't stop you any further, you're already away from him.

either way, satoru does the same, he wore his mask just like you. smiling at his students, he let them navigate the way towards yaga and deal with all of his shits so he would have time and talk to you properly this time.

meanwhile, yuuji and megumi were dismissed after they had done their task. nudging his black haired friend, yuuji pointed out things earlier.

“hey, fushiguro. is it just me or did i just see y/n sensei…crying?” he questioned. megumi remained silent because even saw that you were crying—they’re also not dumb to notice the burst energy somewhere inside your body.

“whether she is or not, it's none of our business.” megumi replied.

“i know. but i couldn't help but to feel really worried about her. you know crying can be bad, especially when you're pregnant, that could stress her out.” yuuji surprisingly knows how pregnancy somehow works. but they both know he's right again. they're worried about you and your baby, so they both take a mental note to visit you later.

as you slam the door behind you, a silent sob escapes your lips as you slide your back behind the wooden frame. along with the sound of your cries, was also the sound of your heart breaking.

for some reason, the facade you just put up there early makes you suffocate. it burns your eyes and it makes you shudder in pain. the hyperventilating noise escapes from your lips while you clutch the handful of fabrics of your blouse.

“you don't know how much pressure i take just because of that fucking marriage.”

“everyday that i woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups. i'm getting so, so tired and i just want to…”

god, that feeling burns! his words keep on burning in your head, engraving the letters piece by piece. those words are not too cruel, it's a little far from what you had heard before. but it came out directly from your husband's mouth, the father of your baby.

maybe, you think you acted this way because of your hormones. but nonetheless, he's like blaming you for all of his misfortunes and that made you recall your past arguments with him before.

it was like a collection of puzzles coming up together, picturing a clear image; you were just a distraction, he wanted nothing to do with you, you were just a burden, he wanted to dissolve this marriage, you would never be his, he wanted to be free from you.

you put your hand on your baby bump, stroking it ever so gently. you swore to yourself that you would never let anyone harm your baby, you would never let this marriage harm your baby, you would never let satoru harm your baby, you never let yourself harm your baby. that's for sure.

because as the clock ticks, time passes. and as the time passes, more tears flow to your cheeks along with blood on your legs.

[part 2 is out now — ©luvvixu2024]

[tayytayy12]

𝗦𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 | 𝗟𝗻𝟰 𝘅 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Summary | After a bad brake up, reader soft launches her relationship which her exes friend along with a special song

Warnings | Swearing, previous bad brake up

Faceclaim | Gracie Abrams

Requested | Yes - No

Type | SMAU

Yourusername

Liked by, Sabrina Carpenter, ChappellRoan and 1,008,007 others

Tagged | @/Kika.cgomez

Yourusername - I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back and here to stay thanks to my favourite girl for making me stop being sad in bed. Love you Kika 💕💕

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User1 - How did Carlos fumble THIS hard?

User2 - She’s literally so beautiful

Kika.cgomez - MY FAVOURITE BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL SWEET-HEARTED GIRLFRIEND !!!

Yourusername - I LOVE YOUUIOUII

ChappellRoan - Hottie

Yourusername - all you gorgeous

User3 - Chapell would treat her better than Carlos ever would I’ll say it now

Comment liked by Chapell Roan

User4 - LMAO THIS IS WHY I LOVE HER

Lilymhe - Good to see you back beautiful 🫡

Liked by author

User5 - Okay now that you’re back, MUSIC WHEN BBY?

User6 - Carlos cowering in a corner knowing his time is coming

User7 - he shouldn’t have cheated on her then

User8 - real like hold him accountable

Yourusername

Liked by, LandoNorris, OliviaRodrigo and 3,998,096 others

Yourusername - You ask, I’ll always deliver 🤍 While I was away I was hard at work, but just for you, but for me. This has been a rough time for me these past few months, so as always I’ve channeled all the emotions I’ve been feeling into writing music, and this is the result of that. My brand new album, ‘Good Riddance’ is out on April 22, and I can’t wait for you to hear her, she’s a work I’m so incredibly proud of. But I will be honest with you, get your tissues ready 🫡 (well except for one song about a very special somebody, I’m not that cruel) I love you 🤍🤍🤍

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User9 - NEW Y/N ERA

User10 - I can feel the sadness through the phone

User11 - ARE WE GOING TO IGNORE THE LAST PART? WHO IS THE SPECIAL PERSON?

User12 - It might now even be a guy, it’s probably Kika or Chappel or something

User13 - Real people are so delulu

SabrinaCarpenter - I can’t tell that you devoured

Liked by author

User13 - All these sad ass sing titles then a random ‘so high school’, you can’t tell me that doesn’t sound like a love song

User14 - so soon after Carlos is icky

LandoNorris - Can’t wait!!

User14 - ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?!?

User15 - Is it April 22nd yet?

LandoNorris

Liked by Yourusername, MaxFewtrell and 1,008,291 others

LandoNorris - Back on the podium !!!! All thanks to a certain good luck charm 🤍

User16 - UM HELLO LANDO??

User17 - That’s me guys

User18 - The fact that he and mystery girl are in an orangey papaya light is so cute

User19 - Y/N IN THE LIKES HELLO?

User20 - A podium with Carlos, and no Carlando pics for the first time ever? What happened 🤍

User21 - THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED

User22 - My man Carlos was glaring DAGGERS into LN 😭😭

User23 - ‘good luck charm’ brb sobbing

Twitter

User24 - HELLO SO HIGH SCHOOL? SCREAMIN?!?!!?

User25 - I WAS SOBBING THE WHOLE ALBUM THEN THIS CUTE HORNY ASS SONG COMES ON

User26 - I need to know who it’s about like right now

User27 - ‘And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined’ I want a relationship written by THE Y/n Y/l/n

User28 - We all do

Text messages

Yourusername

Liked by, LandoNorris, Kika.cgomez and 2,082,292 others

Tagged | LandoNorris

Yourusername - My one and only, Mr. So high school 🤍

LandoNorris - Cutie

LandoNorris - I love you baby

Yourusername - Squealing

User29 - UM HELLO?

User30 - WHAT WHEN WHERE AND HOW?

Kika.cgomez - Couple goals fr 🫠

LandoNorris - Thanks Kika (first nice thing she said to me btw)

Kika.cgomez - Was talking about me and Y/n but okay

PierreGasly - Um okay?

Yourusername - Sorry guys, me nd Kika forever

User31 - Carlos’ best friend is moving dirty

User32 - She’s in her revenge era and I’m so here for it

LandoNorris

Liked by, Yourusername, MaxFewtrell and 1,998,997 others

Tagged | Yourusername

LandoNorris - My favourite, most beautiful girl

Yourusername - Crying I love you so much

Kika.cgomez - She is actually shedding tears

LandoNorris- Cutie

MaxFewtrell - Just listened to Y/ns new song, do me a favour mate, never play GTA with me again?

Liked by Yourusername and LandoNorris

//////

[neteyamsilly]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So dada started making you little trinkets. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re mistaken.” 

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

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

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

“Baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, it’s on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A rustle from above. 

“Attack him!” 

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

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

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

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

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word. 

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

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

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did. 

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

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

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

But she was wrong. 

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

Losing. It was all about losing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had gone slack in his arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had died in his arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought you weren’t loved.

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

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

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

His daughter’s blood, on his hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!” 

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

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

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate. 

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

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

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

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

“Neteyam—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

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

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

It would never fly again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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[miserycanary]

PERSISTS IN DELUSION ᡣ𐭩 previous ⤶

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader 

synopsis: you've left and what was left of Ghost (pt.2)

tags: I really don't know whether to tag this as fluff or angst 

The clock hanging by the wall ticks persistently like a bomb waiting to break Ghost’s delusion that you’ll come back. Ever since that night, he has spent his time like a literal ghost. Barely eating, barely moving, barely living without you. 

With each heavy step that he takes toward your shared bedroom—now bare—the pain in his chest drags him. “I’m home, baby..” he gruffs at the presence he tricked himself to think was still there. Dropping his things by the door, he moves so slowly and plops himself at the mattress that is now cold.. Like how it always was before you came into his life and warmed his whole body and soul. 

Ghost isn’t a crier. Never was. He took all the beatings from his father without letting a single tear fall. He didn’t shed shit when he had to force himself out of the grave he was put in alive. Not even when he left with no family and had to witness that moment with his own eyes. Ever since then, he has swore to heaven and earth that they will never take anything from him again. Depriving himself of anything that could tie him down emotionally.

Then suddenly there was you in all your glory.

Face painted similarly to his as you hand the kids celebrating Día de Muertos candies. Ghost never thought he’d take a step back in this country but as if tugged by fate, he found himself surrounded with the similar decorations that started his nightmare. Yet all he could zero out on was you. And that moment, Ghost knew that heaven and earth were snickering at him, mocking him for what he swore long before was now forgotten. 

As the crown dissipates, he takes all the scuffed pieces of his heart. “That’s a pretty flower,” he grumbles. He sees the way you flinch at the sudden person, turning around to see his towering self. Simon wasn’t stupid and he knew how intimidating he looked and expected you to be scared. His apology is already at the tip of his tongue. 

“Thank you! Do you want it?” He stills, blinking at the unexpected reaction. “O-oh, yeah, thank you.” You, on the other hand, expected the giant of a man to take the delicate flower with roughness, even expecting some petals to fall yet he took it so gently. Simon plucked the stem from your hand, placing it on the wide expanse of his palm and leaning lower to expect it. “Pretty..” he mutters, and you almost agreed if not for the way he said it with his eyes on you. 

Time passed and you guys were intertwined, lives and love exchanged throughout the two years he was with you. 

Ghost fully expected you to run when he first told you about himself, but you stayed. You tore down his walls with patience and care, showing empathy for what he has gone through but never pity and that made him fall deeper. Now Ghost would be lying if he said he has relationship experiences but he knew that if he doesn’t take this opportunity, then he’d lose you before he even had you (he lost you either way). 

But what could he do now? What’s done has been done. He could learn about a relationship all he wants but who matters the most to him is gone. With a new profound energy, he pulled himself up, opening the drawer beside him. He shuffles through the pile of things before pulling out what he was looking for. Sighing, he opens the box and stares at the engagement ring. 

Taking you for granted was not his intention. When you started to cook him meals, take care of the dishes, and everything else, he thought this was the norm. His duty was just to spoil his pretty girl. He never found anything wrong with the dread and exhaust that paints your face everyday because he was used to the heavy weight and assumed everyone was like that. You never complained, so he thought everything was fine. 

And he never wanted to snap back at you. He knew all about the sacrifice you did and gave for him, and how much you went through just to stay with him. He watches your eyes dim each time he tells you that you guys have to move once again or how broken you were when he found you at the hands of someone who wanted him dead. Loving him and being loved wasn’t easy but you did it with no complaints. 

Now he had to go out and be stupid, letting you slip from his fingers just because he couldn’t carry his weight for some measly housework. The very next day that you left the house, staying somewhere who knows where, he bought a dishwasher and hired a cleaner. Try as he might to do the housework just to please you, he knows that his time won’t allow it. So, he tried his best to work around it with the hopes that you’ll come back, but where were you? 

He has called your number multiple times after giving you enough space but no calls were returned. You were coming back to him, right? You won’t leave him, right?

You’ll still love him, right? You will. Ghost smiles softly to himself, kissing the ring while a shy tear slips. “You’ll look so pretty with this ring, darling…” he whispers to the presence that he tricked himself was still there.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: this is so long overdue. Sorry for the person who requested this because it took me this long!! 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open! 

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[okay-babe]

Headcannons ~ Alastor with a reader who has a contract with Valentino...

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship (in the final third of the post), cam star! reader, possessive! alastor, valentino sucks (as usual), mild angst, mild nsfw note: okay so I got an ask wanting to know my thoughts on Alastor with a reader who used to be in a contract with Valentino and has to interact with him, but I misread it as Alastor with a reader who is currently in a contract with Valentino and has to interact with him lol, so here's this! (The actual request should be fulfilled soon, my bad anon!).

♱. At first, Alastor definitely thought you were more than just a little foolish for having made a deal with an overlord like Valentino (bro does not understand the concept of victim blaming).

♱. In his mind, the moth is so blatantly rancid that it just doesn't make any sense for anyone to ever think otherwise, even for a moment.

♱. But then, as he gets to know you better, he starts to see things a little bit differently.

♱. "This is gonna sound stupid..."

♱. You told him one day while speaking on the topic of the overlord who owned your soul, a rare occurrence indeed due to the stigma your contract seemed to carry.

♱. "But honestly, Val was the first person down here to actually make me feel like I was... I dunno... attractive?"

♱. You groaned at the end of your sentence, burying your head in your hands,

♱. "I just... I didn't recognize myself anymore, the person in the mirror wasn't me, y'know? It's like one second I was a human, and the next I was, well, this!"

♱. You exclaimed, gesturing to yourself all the while.

♱. "In a way, his absolutely ridiculous insistence that he could make me into a star made me realize that just because I looked a little different didn't mean I looked bad..."

♱. You trailed off, hands stuffed into your pockets as you looked into the distance,

♱. "And then when I learned about everything he had to offer? I mean how could I have possibly said no? It felt like a win-win back then, or at least something close to it. He promised that no one would touch me, that all he needed was my pretty face and a camera."

♱. You looked toward your then friend with a sigh, a tired smile plastered upon your face,

♱. "I guess he kept that part of the bargain, huh? I just never really thought he would end up being so... awful."

♱. You cringed at the end of your statement, eyes going glassy for a few moments before you suddenly clapped your hands together, standing up abruptly immediately afterward.

♱. "Haha, anyways, you have to have like a thousand contracts right? There's gotta be some good stories there."

♱. As you urged him to speak further on his own experiences, Alastor couldn't help but reconsider his previous thoughts regarding your deal.

♱. Perhaps you weren't as foolish as he had initially thought.

♱. Honestly though, as time goes on and your friendship develops even further, Valentino's contract with you really doesn't end up being that pressing of a topic.

♱. Most of the time, any thoughts regarding the overlord go unsaid, and your business with him is considered yours and yours alone.

♱. That is, until you miss a photo shoot for Slayboy magazine (sorry) and the moth turns up at the hotel, clearly pissed off.

♱. So pissed off in fact, that he had neglected to consider the fact that it wouldn't necessarily be you who responded to his incessant banging...

♱. With a wide grin and an almost obnoxious flourish, the radio demon opened the door, leaning slightly on his staff as he regarded the moth with an amused hum.

♱. "Oh my, the vice demon himself here to visit our humble hotel? Why, to what do I owe the displeasure?!"

♱. He exclaimed, watching as the man's eye twitched slightly in response.

♱. "Where is she?!"

♱. He growled, moving to stalk past Alastor only to be stopped at the pressure of the overlord's microphone against his chest,

♱. "Ah ah ah,"

♱. He tutted,

♱. "You most certainly do not want to do that."

♱. His voice held a hint of warning to it, and a great deal of amusement, his eyes full of malice as he spoke.

♱. Valentino glared,

♱. "Fuck off you corny old bitch, this doesn't concern you."

♱. In response, Alastor simply chuckled, his bones popping and muscles splitting as he slowly began to grow in size, in no mood for the other demon's antics.

♱. "Oh but that's where you're wrong, you insufferable wretch."

♱. He said with an earsplitting grin,

♱. "Anything that involves my most esteemed employee very much does concern me."

♱. In reaction to the sight before him, Valentino snarled, but took a step backward nonetheless, not quite stupid enough to pick a fight with the radio demon on his own.

♱. "Ugh, fine!"

♱. He shouted,

♱. "But you tell that fucking whore to be on site in thirty or I'll find a way to kill her twice!"

♱. And with that, he was turning back toward his limo, ignoring the loud radio static that sounded from behind as he did so.

♱. Of course though, that was just about the only time that Valentino ever got away with ordering you around in front of Alastor, because soon enough, your friendship began to bloom into an extremely unexpected romance.

♱. And after that?

♱. Well, Alastor became a lot less tolerant of the idea that something like your soul belonged to someone else.

♱. He was constantly glaring daggers at the moth demon nearly every time he saw him, be it at an overlord meeting, or even the photo shoots you had in studios outside of the V's gaudy looking headquarters (he might love you, but starting a war with Vox by hanging around in that tower definitely wouldn't be a very smart move).

♱. Makes a show of helping you undress at each and every shoot that he does go to though, neatly folding your clothing for you before pressing a gentle kiss to your head.

♱. "Go on then, my dear."

♱. He would purr,

♱. "I'll just be here enjoying the view if you need me." (He's so corny).

♱. Absolutely despises the fact that your deal forces you to show your body the way that you do in front of a camera. Like not a fan at all.

♱. He doesn't really judge you for it knowing why you ended up making your deal in the first place, but he has absolutely killed an obscene number of sinners and hellborn fools that he witnessed viewing your content in public.

♱. "Al, they're not doing any harm!"

♱. You commented one day after the particularly gruesome murder of a random sinner, arms crossed.

♱. "Oh, on the contrary, darling,"

♱. He'd purred with a wide and unsettling grin,

♱. "I'm afraid they were looking a bit too intently at what's mine."

♱. Yeah you didn't argue too much after that.

♱. (Not like it would ever do you any good to anyway).

♱. Whether or not he actually tries to find you a way out of your contract though, is really entirely up to you in the grand scheme of things.

♱. He certainly isn't fond of it, the idea of another man owning you and all...

♱. But in the end he'll get over it if you really want him to... Just give him a few hundred years or so...

♱. (Yeah unless you can give him like a thousand spectacular reasons not to, he's going to try to find a way to get you out of that deal with Valentino).

♱. Still, in the meantime, he definitely makes your shoots feel a little bit less daunting (although if Val makes one more comment about how lucrative a photo set with you and the radio demon would be, you're worried Al might actually kill the guy).

[pathsofoak]

I've discovered the reason I've written so much comfort recently is because subconsciously I already knew just how fucking intense Minho's next few chapters will be holy fuck

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Pet Play

Male Reader x Choi Yena

Length: 3966 words

Tags: pet play, you knew that, pet/master dynamic, blowjob, bad table manners, indulging in the pet kink, collar and leash, spankingas punishment, undressing, doggy, creampie, sex toys, overstimulation, kitten!Yena

TW: I guess if you don't like kitten Yena...

Inspiration: The great works of @writerpeach and @worldsover. Go check out their work on this specific... let's call it topic.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being my awesome co-writer and instigator of many BFH-sessions

(A/N: Looks like someone else is added to the family-harem, this time with a bit of an set up. Check out the previous story with the teaser for this one! Oh, and here are all the other chapters. Enjoy!)

"Sho tashty~"

Minju has no table manners, talking with food in her mouth. Well, the 'food' in question is your cock she is feverishly sucking from underneath the table while you and Yujin enjoy a nice, quick breakfast before Yujin has to leave for a group schedule. That's also why Minju is the only one naked, something she is perfectly accustomed to ever since you found the right room temperature for her.

"Before you go, I'll let you know that we have to move into a hotel for a week," you say as Yujin takes her final sip of coffee. 

"Why is that?"

"I bought the penthouse below and above us and want to connect them via some automated staircase. I promised the construction company a huge bonus if they finish in a week, so it shouldn't be longer than this. Damn Mr. Kim, I’d love to buy the entire building, but he is too greedy."

"Daddy," Minju asks from below, her soft fingers massaging your balls while she twirls your cockhead. "Why do we need so much space, so many rooms? Isn't this big enough?"

You take a quick glance at Yujin who shakes her head. This is not the right time, don't introduce Minju to the full family plan yet. Especially not when she is busy playing with cock, the only thing on her mind, on her tongue.

"I'll tell you later, Minmin."

"And I'll see you two later," Yujin says and gives you a quick tongue kiss while cupping your cheek. Too bad you can't cup hers because you are busy playing with Minju's hair. That’s not even a first world problem, so you’ll live with it. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too.

"Hey, Minmin, did you drop the bowl on purpose earlier?" you ask with Yujin out the door. Minju looks utterly confused, which is heart-meltingly cute.

"Why would Minmin do that, Daddy?"

"So I'd punish you and make you suck my dick?"

"B-but Minmin can suck your dick just by crawling in your office and opening my mouth. Why would she break Daddy's bowl?"

You laugh a little. This girl is too pure and impure at the same time.

#

Going on a date without Yujin feels quite odd, you must admit. What's even weirder is that you won't need to do it in secrecy, hidden from literally everyone. Today you just walk into the cafe, a gift underneath your arm and look for your date, a girl with colorful hair. At least she was last seen with light pink strands during a meet and greet. 

In the corner of the cafe is a table, in full light of the sunshine, falling in through crystal windows, and at said table is a small person, covered in a bucket hat, sunglasses and a large, black overcoat. Someone who likes to hide their identity to the world, but not you, because a flock of pink hair she flaunts from underneath the hat confirms your suspicion. It is your date.

"Do you mind if I just—"

"Oh, no, please, sit down~"

As you pull back the chair to have a seat, you intently watch the young woman remove her glasses and reveal her face to you. This is your first time seeing the Choi Yena up close in person, and with her gleeful smile, she really looks like a duck or cat or something adorable that you want to cuddle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," you tell her and raise your hand to get the waitress's attention. "Can I invite you for a treat or a beverage?"

"Oh, I'd love to," Yena says, mocking your formal, almost posh way of speaking, before she has a light bulb moment. "Wait, you're very—let’s say well off, right? Can I order whatever I want?"

Now the ducky cat has puppy eyes, for no reason, really. You're here on this friendly date and she seems to have some sort of issue that only a wise person can resolve—of course you'll treat her.

"Get yourself whatever you want, but please." You lean forward and whisper. "Don't order too much. I find it embarrassing if they have to throw good food away."

Yena grins widely and nods, before going on a spree to order all kinds of cupcakes, pastries and milkshakes. You raise an eyebrow and calmly sip your coffee as she digs down sweet treat after sweet treat after sweet treat. To your surprise, she is not only fully capable of eating all of it, but also willing to talk about the most random shit while stuffing her face with sugary goods. 

Yena lacks table manners, just like Minju did this morning.

You sit there and listen. Yena mostly talks about her daily life, mixed in with complaints about her company and sudden outbursts of adoration for IVE and their super star Yujin and how happy she is for you two. 

Then she goes on tangents about IZ*ONE and what the girls have been up to. She is sad about Wonyoung, who apparently decided to pursue some rich people stuff, just like Hyewon, but when you tell her that you and Hyewon are rather close (yeah, that's all you will tell her for now), she lights up once more.

"Really? I only heard rumors about her new, joined company buying huge shares in Starship. Do you like working for Hyewon-unnie?"

You put your cup of tea down and smile. "Something like that, yeah. But now, Yena, I'm pretty sure you're avoiding something."

"Wha-what do you mean?" Yena sweats profusely, not because the overcoat is too thick, though it is, but because you finally want to get to the point. Why were you here again?

"You know what I mean. The reason you wrote the letter, Yena. You have to tell me why, all I can do is make assumptions."

Yena wraps her lips around the straw of her milkshake and quickly drinks the remaining droplets until she makes this annoying slurping sound that has your temple in scrunches. Before you can complain however, Yena finally speaks up.

"I'll tell you, bu-but can you at least guess what it's about first."

"I can, but I have to warn you, I'm very honest and upfront, no nonsense, I might trample over your feelings or say something absurd, rude even."

Yena blushes and gulps. She is all ears to what you're about to say, which has you confident that your guess is spot on.

"I believe that you are very unsatisfied with your sex life and unsure how to act out the stuff you like, so you try to look for someone with experience who you can trust but is also not in your closessed circle."

"Is it that obvious!?” Yena quickly responds as not to let awkward silence fill a possible void in this conversation.

You nod and Yena throws her hands dramatically into the air. She looks embarrassed and a bit distraught that you were able to look right through her, without shame or hesitation. 

However, to your pleasant surprise, she is able to gather herself and speak like a proper grown up about her sexual frustration:

"Yeah, you were spot on. I have a lot of free time in between comebacks and schedules, which is nice and all, but I-I'm unsure about hook ups and scared that someone will... leak stuff. So I wanted to try normal dating, but even among other stars that is so ha-ard. I just want to fu-uck."

"That is very understandable," you say and lean back into the chair, feeling a bit like a therapist with an immorally large bulge in your pants. "But don't you think you could find a very loyal fan, who'd do anything for you, have an NDA ready and go for it? Or maybe you could go out of country, where they don't know you? I bet you still have a lot of options, and with a pretty face like yours, you're bound to find more than enough people to fu-uck."

Yena pouts at you mocking her pronunciation.

"But that's a lot of effort and little guarantee. I want something reliable, in this country and I can’t wait any longer.”

"You want a relationship where you can trust the other person," you summarize. "So... what was your goal with all this? We don't know each other and I'm in a relationship with Yujin. I don't get this from you point of view."

"I-I, it's just that I—I need someone with experience to guide me through this. And I have seen Yujin, her happiness, her smile, the glow around her. That's a woman that has good sex all the time, so please, tell me your secret." 

"I'm the secret, Yena. Do you want to take me from Yujin?" You stand up straight, face stern as Yena looks up at you, helpless and needy. "Finish up your milkshake, we'll take this somewhere else. Don't forget your present."

#

You picked out a nearby hotel, actually the first one that crossed your eyesight. As is often the case, you underestimated how high end these places can actually be. You already consider making this your home for the week your flat becomes unlivable. Minju won’t say anything against it, Yujin though might want something even more posh and polished. 

Good thing that you decided to wear that brown thousand dollar suit that makes you look like a mixture between gangster and manager, otherwise bringing a fully costumed stranger with you would have been an eye raiser. Now you're just some less important person bringing a celebrity to their room.

But it's your room, your money, your decision what’s about to happen. Yena walks in after you and stands in the middle of the vast, cozy room, adorned with all kinds of paintings, a carpet on a wooden floor, an impeccable color scheme from the darkest of brown to a soft beige. You sit down on the bed and look at the still dressed idol expectantly.

"Hm, which present do you want to open first: mine or yours?" you ask her, voice in deep thought as Yena removes her glasses once more.

"I-I don't know what you mean by your present but I think I'll open this."

Yena taps the wrapped box nervously, hoping for some kind of reaction from your part, but you leave her hanging and after agonizing seconds she begins to rip into the colorful wrapping paper. Yena opens the lid beneath and her eyes open wide.

"I know what you want, Yena. Don't underestimate me. Be blunt, be honest, most importantly,

"Be my good little pet, hm?"

Yena takes deep breaths when she pulls out a long, silver chain with a leather handle on one end and her favorite collar on the other. There is more inside it though: a pink feeding bowl with a cute kitten on it as well as a bullet vibrator, its cord and remote and a thigh strap. 

Yena drops the box and most items on the creme carpet when you put her chin between two of your fingers and tilt it up. She looks dreamy, you must have hit the spot to activate endless sexual possibilities and the urge to succumb to them right now. Honestly, you too have always wondered what it would be like to have a pet cat and now she is right here, ready to purr for you.

"What are you?" you ask, quietly, firmly, unmistakable power in your eyes. Yena melts in your fingers.

"Masters... good pet."

"Very good. After I have opened up my present, I expect my kitten to get into character. Because that is what good kittens do."

Without ever breaking eye contact, you begin to pop open the buttons of Yena's overcoat until it's time for the zipper to open up the curtains. In the meantime Yena loses her hat—maybe her mind along with it. You are in no rush to have her bare before you, after all, you left the world of haste and constant work behind. It's time to indulge in this thrilling moment, feel every second of this new life.

"Wow, what a beautiful kitten I have," you coo when you look at the skimpy stage outfit on Yena's body, a radical contrast to the all covering black of her overcoat which is thrown behind the bed.  The shortest of white shorts and a crop top that barely fits her are all that's left to hide Yena's private parts. 

"Now, how about I give my kitten the proper accessories, hm? C'mon, get the collar."

She is in a bit of a daze, your kitten, clumsily bowing down and reaching for the chain. Before she can straighten her back, you kick it out of her hand, and sigh deeply in disappointment.

"No, no, no, not like that. Get it like the little kitten you are."

The kick had her stunned, hurt a bit even, but now she knows what to do. Teaching your pet how to behave properly comes first, before any fun tricks can be trained. Yena begins to kneel and crawls to the collar. She picks the leather handle up with her teeth and carries it to you. 

"Good girl, you've done very well." Your praise comes with another reward. The tips of your fingers begin to scratch and tickle Yena's chin and she calmly purrs, lays her cheek into your hand, fuck, she isn't even cat coded anymore—

—she is living this.

"Kitten, I have many obligations, you know? Caring for Yujin is a handful too. But you, you'll be a good kitten for your Master, won't you? You'll never cause me any trouble, right?”

Yena responds with rapid nods. From her point of view, you are doing her a huge favor, with or without the approval of Yujin. She thinks you are taking risks and loves you for it. Her devotion is only natural, so you happily offer her a couple of fingers to suck on. 

While Yena indulges in getting her drool all over your fingers, you get the tight collar around her throat. It's a good thing that she already sent you this one, a different kind might not have been such a perfect fit. This one looks so natural on her and the thin chain is a great addition. 

"My kitten has fine taste. I think she deserves some belly rubs."

If she had a tail, Yena would probably swing it around in excitement. She won't go long without one, you already have plans of buying hundreds of toys for her—well, okay, these "plans" are just now forming, you’ll have to adjust the shopping list later—and a tail is at the top of that list. 

Purrs when Yena rolls over playfully, her arms and feet stretched away from her like paws and thanks to that crop top, you have perfect access to her midriff. The moment you touch her navel, she unexpectedly kicks upwards, right into your chest. A stinging pain, one you have to swallow down with a heavy gulp. That's how they are, wild, young, untrained pets. 

Nevertheless, they have to be taught properly. A good punishment is an essential part of their training.

"Some lying pet you are!” you snap at her. “How fucking dare you kick your Master!" 

Yena wanted to make a deal with the devil, a deal to be your pet. Unlike Minju or even Hyewon, she wants to be your literal property, not your girl, property and not a human. The treatment has to match the deal.

You easily lift the petrified idol-turned-kitten off the ground and place her bend over on your lap. Yena's cute, firm little butt is in your striking zone, while she desperately turns to face you. You hook a finger into her waistband and pull her shorts down to the folds of her asscheeks.

"Are you sorry, Kitten, for kicking your Master?" you ask Yena with a deeply judging tone. She nods with a deeply sorry expression. "Say that you're sorry!"

"I-I'm sorry, Master. I was a dumb kitten." Not enough meows in that sentence, but you will work on that later.

"What do you think you deserve now, kitten?"

"I de-deserve to be punished by Master.”

"That is right, kitten." You barely touch Yena's butt with the tips of your fingers, and she is already stiffening, readying for impact. To her surprise, your digits rather gently dig into her small cheeks and massage them in preparation. "But are you really sorry?"

"Yes, Master, yes I am—ah!"

The first hit always stings the most, to the point where involuntary tears stream down one's face and lips quiver uncontrollably. You don't let your hand rest on the red spot, instead lifting it up and striking again to make Yena's butt sore all over.

"You don't mean these words. I will have to hit you more."

"N-no, please!" Yena tries to push her upper body up but you make sure to keep her down, pinned to your thighs. "Master, I really, really am sorry!"

Another slap, straight on the same spot, enough to make Yena squirm out a pained meow. In the ensuing set of a dozen hits, six on each beautiful ass cheek, your kitten winces more and more, like a cat hurt in the wild. It tugs at your heart strings, surprisingly, but you continue regardless. When the set is finished, your fingers travel down Yena’s creek to her pussy.

"Do you like to be hit, kitten?" you ask calmly, two fingers gliding across Yena's labia, finding her clit. Yena purrs and shakes her head. "Do you think you need more punishment?"

"No, Master. Please, stop. I'll be a good kitten for you. I’m sorry."

Those dreamy, teary, glassy eyes—could they ever lie?

"I believe you.” A small pat on her head. “God, you are very cute, your hair is so silky and your little entrance is already getting wet." You remove your digits and show the tiny strings of arousal that remain in between when you spread them before her eyes. 

You take your time, again, no reason to rush. Climb on the bed, watch Yena rest on her knees before it. A light tug at the chain and Yena gets it. Today, she'll be allowed on the bed, just for this special occasion.

"Thank you, Master," she purrs and you comb through the pink, smooth hair. You give her a final smile before getting behind her. Belts and pants have never stopped you from getting what you need, to the point you'll probably disregard them entirely in the future.

This future in your home, with all these girls; Yujin and Minju already live there, Eunbi and Hyewon will surely follow. Chaewon is a wild card, probably a couple of sessions away from any commitment. And then there is Yena. 

Will she commit to being your pet full time? Or is this a one off thing for her, to get rid of all the sexual tension you feel on her soaked and hot pussy lips that graze your tip? The extent of her kink is still a mystery to you.

"Relax, my little kitten, here comes your favorite cock.”

How can she know if this is her favorite? It's been ages since something this big and girthy has spread her open, pushed past any tension and made her feel full. Comparing this to those she had in the past is impossible—but not because of the difference in time or position or foreplay. 

The comparison fails because your massiveness makes Yena's brain short circuit. All stages of humanity and human behavior are shut off; when your tip presses against her cervix, she goes straight to purring, meowing more than moaning.

Yena is incredibly tight, mostly because this is the first time she has something so big inside her, you assume, so you give her time for adjustments, slow movements, even slower rubs on her back, then her belly. 

"Let's get rid of this." And you do get rid of her top, see her small breasts jiggle, the tiny, hard nipples too, when Yena is ready to move on her own.

Her kitten butt moves in a mesmerizing dance, not only a linear back and forth, but a subtle shimmy from side to side. You get to see your cock glazed in her sweet juice, then it disappears in that cavern again. Up to this point, you're just kneeling behind your kitten, undressing further and further, sometime pulling the chain to get her back into that doggy position—it seems that she likes the slow fuck.

"You are such a good kitten," you groan and lean towards Yena's ear until she can't push backwards anymore. "What do you say, next time we're alone, you get some ears and a tail?"

"Bu-but Master," Yena murmurs, face now in the mattress because you start pushing yourself into her. "What about Yujinnie, your girlfriend?"

"Don't you want to stay with us? Get head pats from my good baby girl too?" 

Don't give her time to think about it. This revelation of your open and rather complex relationship might have been too early. So thrust harder into her and make the entire bed shake, her brain a useless mush. Yena's toes curl as she bites the sheets below her and lifts her ass a bit higher for easier access. She gets wetter and tighter, a clear sign of enjoyment, of thrill that is soon to be bliss.

Without warning you yank at the chain. Yena chokes hard, quickly getting back into the doggy position which you immediately use to fuck her roughly against the backboard of the bed. 

The chain in your hand, the thought of a personal pet and its snug cunt make you greedy for your own orgasm which always comes before hers, however only in terms of relevance. Yena has finally adjusted to your width, length and the harsh grip you exert on her collar. She drools and purrs, until an ultimate, mindless scream leaves her mouth. Her knees begin to buckle as she cums on your length, that pistoning length, in and out of her cunt, completely disregarding her sensitivity.

"Oh, looks like my kitten is wetting herself. Look, you're ruining the sheets! Such a dumb little pet."

Yena doesn't even hear the taunting. She holds onto some pillows, then the backboards, as you applaude her for the resilience by fucking faster and making the pelvis on ass sounds louder and louder.

"Me-me-meow~" Yena's irises disappear in her head. The idol has fully become your kitten; in due time to you surrendering to the tight grip of her cunt by cumming. A day's worth of semen, directly into her womb, and you tell yourself that she is safe today. She has to be, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to your dick inside her.

"Ma-Master, so much," Yena breathes and her paws try to remove all the sticky hair from her sweaty face.

"You better not spill it on the sheets, kitty. Keep it inside your pussy, all of it." You pull out and immediately get up close with the pink snatch. Yena clenches her muscle, trying to force her pussy to stay shut.

"So, so much—I can't ho-old it!"

With that said, Yena loses some of your precious cream. She just lets it fall out of her in an incredibly lewd display that has you smiling at her embarrassed expression. In a scramble of genius and horniness, you find the bullet vibrator and shove it inside Yena’s cunt before she can ruin more of the bed. Her ensuing moan is music to your ears.

"I guess my kitten is not yet potty trained. We need to change that as soon as we can.

"Wouldn’t you agree?"

[multifandomgirl08]

Race Day [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fiancée!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Nico tags along with Max during a race day in Monza, well as much as he can.

Warning(s): Fluff

A/N: Request sent in by @mbappebby. I got to sit on YouTube and just watch a whole bunch of interviews on Max for this. Posting this on Max's birthday today. I will be publishing the last request that I got on Sunday instead.

Words: 2.1k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Max had wanted Nico to spend every minute of the race that he could with him today. He wanted Nico to experience everything that he could. Walking through the paddock with him and even seeing Max talk to the fans and take pictures with them. Nico never asked why people wanted pictures of him. He had just accepted it, even thanking someone for supporting his Papa during the race today.

As they got closer to hospitality before the drivers' parade started Nico waved at Charles and Lando from Y/N’s arms, both drivers waved back. Y/N and Nico slipped into the McLaren garage to say hi to Oscar before meeting Max back in front of the Red Bull garage.

Nico would be with Max during the driver's parade wanting to take him around the track with the other drivers, before you and Nico would both be sitting in your normal seats while the race was going on.

"You sure you want to take him with you?" You asked Max as he was holding Nico getting ready for the driver's parade.

"He'll be fine, mijn leeuwin." Max said to Y/N. “Right?” Max turned his head to Nico seeing the little boy nod enthusiastically.

“Okay. Be good for Papa.” Max kissed Y/N’s forehead before Max and Nico made their way out to the bus that would take the drivers around the track.

Max knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold Nico the whole time they were making their way around the track. Max sat down towards the back, Nico in his lap pointing out little things in the distance, from the other people to the turquoise Aston Martin safety cars that were at the race.

They would be playing musical chairs for the first part of the drive around the track but he hadn’t been called up yet to talk to the reporter.

He enjoyed holding Nico before he was called over to answer a few questions. Nico wouldn’t let go of his hand when he sat down at the front of the car, “Max 14th consecutive pole of the year, congratulations. So what’s the plan for you and the team today?”

“Have fun, the car has been good all weekend. So, hopefully, we can show that again today.”

“Who is this little boy that you have with you?” She asked.

“This is my son, Nico. Wave hi to Mama?” Max asked before Nico waved to the camera and then quickly buried his head in Max’s shoulder.

“He’s quite cute. I’m sure your fiancée feels the same way as well.” Max gave a slight nod at her statement.

“And just a few words in Dutch.” Max was quick to respond rattling off something about having a productive race day and getting a good result out of the car.

“Well, I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your day together, and good luck with the race.” Max gave a final nod, and then moved to the back of the car to sit next to Daniel and Checo.

“So, decided to take Mini Max with you before the race?” Daniel asked.

Max had never minded Daniel’s nickname for Nico, ever since the moment that Daniel met Nico, he had been Mini Max. He was the first person on the grid, not including himself, to hold his son.

“I don’t know. I guess I just want him with me.” This was the first time that Max had really spent a race day with Nico. Normally on race days, Nico would be with Y/N. They had their little routine of walking around the paddock before getting lunch and then watching the race when the time came.

“Maybe you’re now realizing that he’s getting older. He won’t be a little boy forever.”

Maybe Daniel was right. Nico was getting older, he had already started go-karting this year, almost the same age as when he started.

“Possibly.” He said before he started to wave out into the crowd.

“Does that mean when the time comes, you and Y/N are gonna have another?” Checo had asked.

“Another, what?” He said dropping his hand for a moment.

“Another one of these.” Daniel was quick to gesture to Nico.

It wasn’t that Max hadn’t thought about it. Sure, one day he could see himself and Y/N having kids but he liked that it was just the three of them. She was already an amazing mother to Nico, she would be an amazing mother to any children that they had.

“I don’t know. But not right now. Wedding planning and dealing with the house. It’s too much.”

“One day, right?”

“Yeah, one day,” Max said with sincerity. Y/N deserved to have her own children, even though she considered Nico her own.

Once they had gotten out of the car, Max was quick to find Y/N in the garage talking to GP while Christain stood by them.

“He’s starting from pole, I’m sure he’ll do fine.” He heard GP say.

"Max always does well under pressure Christian, you know that." He heard you say. Max couldn’t help but smile. You talking Christian down from whatever he was concerned about.

“I know. It’s just another record that could be broken today.”

“He’ll do great, and if he starts to get bored he’ll make jokes about wanting to test the pit crew or something.”

Max couldn’t help but beam. You had that much confidence in his win today even after the issues that they had earlier in the weekend.

Nico was quick to slip out of Max’s arms before running up to Christian, yelling “Grandpa!” capturing the team principal's attention. Christian welcomed Nico with a hug and an exaggerated, “When did you get so big?”

Max couldn’t help but think that Christian was the only grandfather that Nico would have as he grew up.

“I’m not that big,” Nico said, before reaching for Y/N’s hand.

“Not that big?” Christian asked back. “You’re up to here.” Christian gestured up to his hip to demonstrate how tall Nico had gotten since he had last seen him. Nico couldn’t help but laugh before pressing his face into the shorts that Max was wearing.

The small group stayed talking for a bit longer until Max had to go change into his race suit. Nico didn’t want to leave Max until he had to get into the car for the formation lap.

Y/N had been outside while Max was doing his post-race press conference after his P1 finish. She had been so occupied with talking to Alex's girlfriend Lily that she didn't see Nico slip away into the media tent where Max sat between Lewis and Charles.

Max had seen Nico walk into the tent, he knew he shouldn't be around the cameras. Max was able to look past the crowd of people to see Y/N just outside of the tent talking with someone.

The interview hadn't started yet so Max opened his arms for Nico to walk to him. Nico struggled to get on the couch before Max lifted him up and sat him down next to him.

Once the interview had started, Max waited until there was a question to be answered.

"In third place Charles Leclerc, in second Lewis Hamilton, and our winner Max Verstappen. And it seems like we have a guest with us today in Nico Verstappen. To the drivers, if you wouldn't mind telling us about some of the challenges that you faced today." He heard from Tom and fixed his posture toward the cameras.

"Yeah, my first lap was pretty good, was able to avoid a collision after turn 1. Luckily I was able to go wide as to not cause any damage to the car. Things finally looked like they were turning around after I changed to the medium tires given the issues that we had in qualifying. You know, every race is a challenge in their own right. One wrong move and it can change the race at any moment." He rattled off without having to think about the question.

Max saw Nico had tried to get Lewis' attention who was sitting to the right of him.

The question had gone in a semicircle, from him to Lewis and then to Charles before the reporter moved on asking how the car was today.

“Max, 14th consecutive pole this weekend and with a record-breaking 12 wins in a row. How does it feel?”

“It feels good. I never set out to break records. The achievement is something to appreciate and be happy with.” Max rattled off quickly before he thought the reporter would go to Lewis next.

"How do you think your dad did during the race today, Nico?" Max's attention was immediately drawn to the reporter. He never thought that any of the reporters would ask Nico a question.

Nico looked up at him from aimlessly playing with the zipper of Max's suit. Silently asking if it was okay to answer the voice coming from the small crowd of reporters. Max gave a slight nod, encouraging him to speak.

"Papa did well, even if he wouldn't have started from P1." Nico muttered into the mic that Max placed in front of him.

There were chuckles from the reporters.

Max couldn't help but pull Nico in a little closer giving him a proud smile. He loved that Nico didn't care where he was starting the race from, Nico though he did well regardless.

"Would you have changed anything during the race if it was you behind the wheel?" Nico looked back up at Max again.

He would need to ask Christian if he could start bringing Nico to interviews.

"Trying to overtake Uncle Lewis at lap 15. Small gap," Nico said with a shrug of his shoulders. Lewis reached over and gave Nico a little fist bump while Max smiled.

"Smart kid you've got there, Max." Lewis said just loud enough for the mics to pick it up. Max slightly nodded before laughing.

Nico revealing how close he was to the other drivers on the grid wasn't news. He was seen at races much more often now that Max wasn’t hiding his son from the media. It had taken Nico no time whatsoever to start thinking of the other guys on the grid as his family.

"Max, do you agree with that? Would you have tried to overtake Lewis at turn 3 during that lap?" Max couldn't help but laugh. Of course, that's what they'd ask him.

"It's just like Nico said, there was a small gap. But then you have to wonder if it's worth it to overtake or risk damaging the car. I knew that I would get another opportunity so I wasn't worried about overtaking him then."

"Okay, thank you, Max, Nico." Max gave a small nod before looking over the brim of his hat to see Y/N standing in the back behind the reporters with a wide smile on her face.

The reporters asked Charles and Lewis a few more questions. "Last few questions." He had heard.

"My question is for Max." Max moved to sit up a little taller.

"With your son here, do you think he'll follow in your footsteps driving in F1 for Red Bull?"

They were trying to dig deep, huh?

"That's the dream, right." He started before pausing. "No, I mean. If that's what Nico wants, I will support him, even if he decides that he doesn't want to drive in F1. I'll still support him. As for driving for Red Bull, that I don’t know."

Nico tapped Max on the shoulder before he started talking into the mic. "Ask Grandpa Christian." Nico said.

More laughter broke out from the reporters.

Max reached over and tickled Nico’s right side. He broke out in laughter curling up at Max’s side. He loved having his family here.

ynlnusername 📍Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Liked by yourbestfriend and 475,123 others

ynlnusername Second race back after the break. Congratulations to my better half on another record breaking win! You work every day to achieve your dream and I hope that our son is lucky enough to do the same one day.

charles_leclerc Lovely seeing you and Nico around the paddock today!

landonorris The only Verstappen's allowed in the McLaren garage. Don't tell Max.

View all 629 comments

fan76 Y/N calling Max her better half. Babe, you are the better half.

fan46 Was at Monza today. Loved seeing Max spend time with Nico before the race. He's such a cute kid.

fan27 Nico in his Red Bull headphones in the team garage!

wagsoff1

3,472 likes

wagsoff1 Max and Y/N see out in Milano, Italy celebrating after his 12th consecutive win in Monza.

View all 120 comments

fan56 What is this look that Max is giving Y/N? Love?? Respect?? Devotion?? Can I get a man to look at me like that?

fan86 Wondering when the wedding is going to be.

fan29 Probably during the mid-season break next year. Makes the most sense given when Max proposed.

October 20, 2024

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay

[peachsukii]

Burn Out

『♡』  pro-hero fem!reader  x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | engaged | aged to 23 | bakugo POV! ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: Japan’s #4 Hero, Dynamight, is holding (forced by his agency) a meet and greet with fans - for the fifth time this year - by popular demand. The only difference? It’s three hours longer than the previous four. tags & warnings: fluff, soft bakugo, pro-hero bakugo, reader has a quirk & is also a pro hero, reader & bakugo are engaged! a/n: i thought the idea of reader waiting in line every time he has a meet and greet was such a cute gesture and relaxes him when he’s overwhelmed by fans :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,300 ꒱

“I really gotta do this shit for 4 hours?!”

“Sorry, Dynamight. It’s standard hours for meet and greets, plus you get the exposure to retain popularity amongst the public.”

God, what a fuckin’ joke.

How the hell does Deku do this all the time? I’m not a people person, end of story. I’ll sign shit and let them sell it, but actually meeting people? My goddamn nightmare. Especially the damn fan girls, they’re rabid fuckin’ animals. I hate when people only see me a piece of goddamn meat and not a top rated hero.

“Why are you still here?” This agency lady is really pissin’ me off. What the hell else does she want from me?

“Just going over the logistics. You’ll be hosting at a store in Shibuya Crossing from 1PM to 5PM tomorrow. You’ll be doing signatures on pre-approved official photos. We’ll meet at the agency at noon and you’ll get suited up.”

I hate these stupid publicity pricks.

“Can’t I just sign ‘em and you sell ‘em? I really gotta do it in person?”

“No can do, you know the process by now. The hours are just extended to allow as many fans access as we can.”

Why the fuck do fans need “access” to me? They don’t. I’ve got better shit to do.

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow.”

───

It’s almost 1PM and I’m already fuckin’ over being here. Nonstop “do this, not that,” “don’t take too long,” “don’t accept large gifts,” blah blah blah. It’s a damn signing, not a conference, I shouldn’t need to follow some stupid rule book.

“Before settling in for a grueling four goddamn hours, I gotta call my fiancé.”

“Make it fast, you’re set to start in 15.”

Was it an excuse to talk to her? Hell yeah it was. I didn’t need to call her for shit, I needed to get the hell away from that agency lady before I said shit I can’t take back.

Really wish she could sit here with me instead of with the agent with stick up her ass.

───

[y/n] Hey babe, what’s up? I thought your meet and greet was happening now? [Bakugo] Yeah, in 15 minutes. I needed to step out before I sit here for four fuckin’ hours. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside or somethin’. [y/n] Nothing really, grocery shopping and boring stuff. Are you nervous? [Bakugo] Me, nervous? Fuck no. I just don’t wanna be here for that long. It’s exhausting. [y/n] I don’t blame you, the last few were much shorter. Do you need me to bring you anything? [Bakugo] Even if you did, I don’t think they’d let me take it from ya. [y/n] That’s so annoying. It’s not like I’m a stranger. [Bakugo] Y’would think so. Fu-dammit, sorry baby, but I gotta cut ya short. This agency bitch has been breathin’ down my neck all week. [y/n] It’s alright. Make sure those fan girls don’t take all of you, I still want my share of the number 4 hero! [Bakugo] Hah, y’know you’re the only one who gets that. I’ll talk to you later baby, love you. [y/n] Love you too, good luck!

───

I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired.

If I hear another person screech over me just looking at them? I’m gonna lose my damn mind - and it’s only 2:30PM.

“Dynamight! You’re my favorite hero, thank you for signing this!”

At least most of the kids that showed up weren’t loud and annoyin’ brats.

“Thanks, appreciate th’ support.”

I’ve signed my name so many damn times that it’s starting to look like gibberish. They wouldn’t even let me use a stamp or some shit like that. Y’think that would appeal to their “access” plan if more people could come and go if it meant signing this shit faster.

───

3:45PM.

Fifteen. More. Minutes.

Exhausted is a goddamn understatement. I don’t wanna talk to anyone for the next 24 hours when this is over.

I’m grabbing the next poster from the agent, tunnel visioned on gettin’ the fuck outta here, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“Hiya Dynamight!”

I can’t help but laugh. Did she really stand in line this whole time?

“The hell you doin’ here?”

She’s dressed head to toe in my merch - sweatshirt from the winter line, joggers from the athletic set, even her damn shoes are the limited release sneakers from the crossover line with Deku.

“Just supporting my favorite hero. I’d love if you could personalize my poster.”

God, I love this woman.

“Hah, y’got it.”

To my favorite hero, y/h/n, my shining star - love, dynamight

I slide it over the table to her and the look on her face is priceless. Her smile never fails to brighten my day, no matter how shitty it is. Really feels like no one else is here but her in the moment.

“This’ll be worth at least $50 online. Thanks!”

“Hey! That’s special, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, Ka-Dynamight.”

“Did ya wait in line this whole time?”

“I did! I wasn’t shopping earlier, I was in line for you. I wanted to support my soon-to-be husband.”

The high school girl behind her makes a face when she says “husband.” It’s not like our engagement is a damn secret. Can’t help but shoot her a dirty look, hoping she gets the “fuck off” memo.

“Dynamight, 5 minutes until we wrap.”

“Back off! It’s my damn fiancé. I’ll take as long as I want.”

All I wanna do is jump over this table, throw her over my shoulder and blast our way home. Dive onto the couch, crammed together against the cushions and pass the fuck out to the sound of TV static.

“It’s okay, I’ll let you go.”

She leans over the table to whisper, “I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you!”

I don’t really care who hears. I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ whisper to my soon-to-be wife in public.

“Love you too. Thanks, sweets. You’re the best.”

Fuck, her ass looks damn good in those joggers. I’ll never get tired of watching her walk away. The way she sways her hips when she walks is dangerous game for me.

“Alright, Dynamight. Last one.”

Thank fucking god.

“Hey, thanks for-”

“Was that your fiancé?”

These damn high school girls are such a pain in the ass.

“…yes. What of it?”

“Isn’t she, like, number 42 or something super low ranked?”

Not fallin’ for whatever shit she’s trying to pull. I sign the poster and slide it over to her, hoping she shuts the hell up and leaves.

“What, I can’t get a personalized photo like her?”

Well, she asked for it.

“Fine, give it back.”

number 42 and still better than you. fuck you - dynamight

I shove the poster back to her roughly on purpose, crinkling the edge against her stupid long claws-for-nails that were tapping impatiently on the table.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Learn some damn manners.”

I don't feel any remorse as the stupid agent starts scolding me for "mistreating fans." The brat had it comin', what can I say?

"I'm outta here. Later."

"Wait, Dynamight, you need to -"

"No, I don't. Not my problem. I'm done."

───

Finally, home sweet home. "Hey baby, I'm home."

"Hey Kats! Made you some early dinner on the stove and the blanket is nice and toasty for you."

When did she even have time to do that? It's only been 45 minutes.

"Damn, what are ya, superwoman?"

"Hah, I wish. Have you checked your phone yet?"

"...No, why?"

She laughs. "#dynamight is trending again. Somethin' about you signing 'fuck off' on a fan's poster?"

Oops.

"Yeah, well I -"

"Fuck her, she's lucky I didn't smack her upside the head."

And that's why I'm marrying her.

Just a cute little "Bakugo hates people" fluff lol

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Was I an ahole for warning mutual's friend about his past? 🫶

I had a mutual in a big fandom circa 2017-2018. She was kinda sweet but shy, sometimes really bitter at people so I didn't get too close but we chatted often. Now my fandom had a big incest/ pedo shipping problems and she was one of the few people on my tl who were loudly opposed to it. I don't think she sent hatemails but she ranted in tags or her own posts often. Saying this because we had a few older fandom friends who were much more vocal and she followed their words like gospel. So the conclusion was like a betrayal.

Some years later I felt her slowly ghosting me before she finally left fandom and deleted her account. Then she came back after a few months in a new persona, totally new fandom, going by they/them, no attachment to their previous fandoms, like a new person. I don't know if they meant to hide their past or not. They contacted me and we became moots again.

Then after maybe a year I noticed that we were no longer mutual, we sort of ghosted each other as our interests diverged more so no big deal.

About 4 years since then I found myself getting into the thing they were last into. I accidentally stumbled upon their popular posts and decided to reconnect. They were going by he/him now so he was very nice and welcoming. He told me to chat with him and ask anything I needed to know, recced good blogs etc. We chatted frequently as it seemed like he was a completely different person, no longer shy or bitter, very openly into shipping and smut, happily engaging with dead dove content in the new fandom. This one also has canon incest, so I asked how he coped, he said he lost his mind in the old fandom he just filters the unwanted things out.

Now I don't know, how he changed that much or became friends with incest shippers, how he could be so casually okay with this when he was vocal about supporting survivors before. Then I saw him reblog posts shitting on sex repulsed people and some about BPD too. It wasn't hard to figure out why he changed so drastically.

I got really angry that day and accidentally sent a message to one of his "proship" mutuals how he really used to be. That guy saw my message, then blocked me, then my moot also blocked me without a word. I have regrets but I don't know what to do. Am I wrong for wanting him to not be friends with incest shippers? I miss him and I don't think he shipped them but he still joked about shipping them and being annoying. The last fandom harassed me a lot over not liking brother brother incest so I only have bad feelings. I don't think incrst shipping should be banned or anything extreme I just think they should have a separate platform so only they can see it.

[iknityounot]

Ok, so my last post about the issues of plus sized patterns popped off in a way I did not expect??

I just want to come back and say: making patterns is hard work and especially those who make their patterns free online, it is a LOT of hard work that the designer gets nothing back for. I didn't mean for it to sound like I thought that was an easy thing to do.

But, like a lot of people pointed out in the tags and comments, fashion world has already done the leg work for us. There are size charts and mathematical equations you can do to scale your pieces in such a way that at least matches what you would see in stores. I think, honestly, that this is where the break down is. I think pattern makers take bust/chest measurements, and scale all of their numbers from there, without thinking about their piece as clothing (instead of just a knitting project, if that makes sense).

And I think that's where fat people get left behind. Because our bodies don't scale the way you would scale up a hat or mittens or something. It takes added work and added care to think about fat people and how our bodies look and work (hence why my previous post said "please talk to a fat person"--it's not that we know how to make patterns, but that we can advise what works for our bodies!)

I want to end on a helpful note, if I can:

My favorite pattern maker for plus sized projects is Jacqueline Cieslak!

I have bought a couple of patterns from them, and I have never had the not-for-fat-bodies problems I have had before. They have a handful of different styles, many of which are very customizable. Not to mention that the patterns themselves are VERY thorough. They link to tutorial videos they have made for anything more complicated than a stockinette stitch, and have lots of detailed diagrams showing different measurements for different parts of the project.

Anytime I am making a piece for myself or my other plus sized love ones, I go to Jacqueline first! Hopefully their patterns will help anyone who identified with my previous post find some patterns that work for them!

[kimdokjas]

wait wait, what’s the change tumblr did to the reblog chains ? 🥲🥲🥲 I’m so lost

okay so basically, let's say you see a post on your dash

before the update, if you clicked on a url, you could do 3 things:

view that specific reblog on the blog you follow (A)

view the previous reblog on the blog A reblogged it from (B)

view the original post on op's blog (C)

however, staff recently implemented an update where clicking on a url no longer takes you to that specific post. now, clicking on a url just takes you to the blog itself.

this means that you now get 5 things:

view ONLY that specific reblog on the blog you follow (A) -> changed location near header. also, you will now ONLY see that post and nothing else

view ONLY the original post on op's blog (C) -> changed location near header. you will only see that post and nothing else. and ONLY if the op hasn't deleted it, otherwise it just shows an error

view the blog of the person you follow (D)

view the blog of the person D reblogged it from (F) -> option B no longer exists

view the blog of the op (E)

you might be thinking: "cool! i get more options so that's good, right?" well, no.

there are SEVERAL things wrong with this and it goes beyond the prev tags issue

1) first of all, it's counterintuitive that A and C changed locations to the area near the header, especially if your userbase was already used to the previous functions. it just seems like horrible UX design to me but let's put that aside for now.

2) as you can see, option B which allowed you to see the previous reblog of a post no longer exists.

now, if you click on the previous url, you will just be taken to their entire blog. you can no longer view the post itself.

someone asked staff about this, and they replied in this post that the change was INTENTIONAL and if you want to view the previous reblog you would have to "go through the notes view".

to borrow what someone else said:

basically, this update just killed the prev tags culture in one fell swoop.

(sure, you can still use it to reply directly to the person you're reblogging from, but it's now literally useless to use "prev tags" for everyone else involved. sure, you can choose to copy tags or peer review them, but again, if people will have to copy them then the less people are likely to use them, and not every prev lends itself to peer-reviewing imo)

now, listen. i know not everyone likes the prev tags culture, but it just seems like such a poorly-thought decision to kill a culture that like... half of your entire userbase uses (see this poll as a quick reference) and that's UNIQUE to your site and sets you apart from other social media.

but it's also not even just prev tags. let's say you want to remove an annoying addition on a post's reblog chain? you can no longer do that.

however, i feel like this is the most important point:

regardless of how you may feel about the prev tags culture, the pure UI aspect of it should remain

what i mean by this is: even if you don't like prev tags, simply 1) being able to access the reblog chain, and 2) clicking on a post and actually have it take you to their BLOG (and not just a page with that one single post) is literally essential navigation.

this update threatens to drive down user engagement (which is already critically low) by making it harder to navigate. which is actually another point:

3) even if you click on A and C now to view those specific posts, it's NOT the same as it used to be.

before, you could view the reblog directly on the blog. so you could just scroll down and see the other posts leading up to it. now, you will be taken to a page where you will ONLY see that post and nothing else.

but also, you can no longer easily navigate other people's blogs.

you know how sometimes you would see like 50 notifications of someone going through an entire tag on your blog? that's going to happen a lot less, i'm afraid.

let's suppose you want to go to op's blog because they're an artist and you want to see more of their art. so you click on C and see that the tag they use for posts with their art is "#my art"

cool! before, you could just click on that tag and immediately view ALL of their art as long as the posts have that tag.

but now, if you click on that tag, it will take you to the ENTIRE tumblr tag with literally all the posts that everyone in the history of time has tagged with that specific tag.

now, to do the same thing that just took 2 clicks before, you would have to: click on C to view the post -> look for the tag you want to navigate -> click E to view their whole blog -> scroll and look for a post that just so happens to have that tag (the search function is literally useless) and hope to god that there's a recent one or you'll have to scroll for ages or simply give up -> if you happen to find it, click on that tag to navigate their posts.

you see how this is counterproductive, right? you see how this can literally drive down engagement with content creators, right?

if you make people's blogs harder to navigate, you will literally drive down the number of likes and reblogs on their posts, which have already been steadily declining for years now.

4) options D and E to view the blogs and not the posts are literally useless because you could already access other people's blogs before. you just had to click on their url to view their blogs starting from that specific post AND you could choose to just refresh it to view their newest posts.

either way, the change just seems completely unnecessary. and again, it's not just about the prev tags culture but about basic UI.

so what can we do about it?

i normally don't advocate for flooding staff with messages but i do feel like this is one of the worst updates staff has ever done (and that's saying something) and something needs to change.

even if they don't retcon the entire update, that's fine, but staff could at least add the option to view the reblog chain as a different feature (maybe even opt-in) for example. there are better ways to go about this than just axing an entire existing feature.

also, this same issue that makes it harder to navigate blogs needs to change. i feel like content creators will be especially affected by this unless this changes because you can no longer easily navigate their tags, so it will inevitably drive down engagement.

so please, contact staff and let them know we want a change.

you can contact support here!

here's a template for a possible message you could send, but feel free to edit it. (under category you can choose "Feedback")

Hi, I would like to politely request a change to the recent update that affects the reblog chain of posts. Regardless of the "prev tags" culture itself, the UI aspect of being able to view the reblog chain of a post is essential for navigation on this website. Even adding it as a separate, opt-in feature would be a huge help. Additionally, clicking on a post and then on one of the tags now takes you to the entire tumblr tag instead of the tag on that blog, which makes it harder to navigate blogs. Both of these issues have the potential to drive down user engagement by actively making it harder to navigate Tumblr, but especially for content creators. I hope you can do something to address these issues as soon as possible. Thanks in advance and have a nice day.

also, if you can and/or want, reblogs are appreciated to help spread the word!

that's pretty much the gist of the issue from what i've seen, but if anyone else has anything to add or a different way we could contact staff to make ourselves heard, please feel free to let me know!

TLDR: it's not just about prev tags, this update affects basic functionality and content creators as well