#lush star bright

[loveaffirmations]

I am worthy of all the love, abundance, and success that the Universe has to offer.

I let go of limiting beliefs that tell me otherwise and embrace my true worth.

#positive energy #manifestation #shrooms #the law of attraction #detressmonday #aint got nothing #machi gyrau #lush star bright #ace and tate #maehlum

[perlelune]

Cruel Summer | Felix Catton

Your mother's money issues make it hard for you to enjoy your summer at Saltburn. Thankfully your cousin is there to comfort you. But what happens when you realize his interest in you isn't just familial concern?

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Start! Reader, Incest, Secret Relationship, Manipulation, Corruption, Innocent Reader, Drugs, Smoking, Filming

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your eyes round as they absorb the massive castle and the vast, lush gardens surrounding it. As you drag your suitcase behind you, you can’t quell the urge to admire everything. Even the towering, perfectly symmetrical trees lining the path to the iron gates. It’s been years since you visited Saltburn, but you don’t remember it being so big or intimidating. 

Still, you bask in the chirping of birds and the brightness of the sky above you. You’re compelled to admit it. The English countryside is lovely, a haven away from the pollution and noise of the city. A sharp contrast to the familiar chaos you’re used to back home. The uproar of traffic, from the honking to the shouting. The endless stream of people strutting down the streets. The gigantic ads and the skyscrapers that graze the stars.

A city that never rests or stops for anyone.

While this is home, it all can be so overwhelming. There never is time to just…breathe and be. Here, as you look at your surroundings, you figure it’s all there is to do. Breathe and be.

You push the small iron door on the side, astonished to find it ajar. Did they leave it open for you? You doubt it however. From what Mom told you, consideration for others isn’t one of your aunt and uncle’s strong suits. They’re too wrapped up in their “posh little world”. One your mom isn’t a part of anymore. And neither are you, as you’ve been raised overseas.

As for your brother…well he’s another matter. Shipped from school to school thanks to Uncle James’ “bottomless well of generosity”, he is a free spirit. Seas apart from you in every possible way. 

Ever since you were young, the pressure to succeed has gripped you tight and never released you. When others partied and experimented, you were nose deep in your books, stressing over finishing every assignment on time and acing every test. It paid off. You were accepted into your school of choice this summer, with a scholarship no less. 

Slacking off isn’t an option for you.

While your brother has a sort of safety net, you’re not so close with that side of your family. You’re their estranged American niece, one they haven’t seen in over a decade.

In fact, you’ve no idea how you’ll be received.

The long walk to the castle is harrowing but gives you time to comb through your memories. You were so little the last time you visited. Still, foggy remembrance floods your thoughts. You played with your cousins by the pond. Made up stories and ran around the fields. You even faintly recall skinning your knees when one of them dared you to try and climb all the way to the top of the stone stairs beneath the stained glass window. You slipped for a long time and wept on the floor, you think. Auntie Elspeth scolded her children and you for playing dangerous games.

Their cherubic faces flicker in your mind.

There were two of them.

A little boy with dark hair and a gummy smile. A blonde girl who giggled all the time. And of course, your brother.

When you’ve reached the castle’s front door, you suck in a wide breath. Before you can even knock on the tall, black doors, they swing open in front of you.

A surprised exhale spills from your throat. 

Swallowing, you fall back. 

Hands behind his back, a stern man in a suit runs his gaze over you. He is so still, for a minute, you wonder if he’s real.

But then he speaks. “Are you lost, miss?” he asks.

You shift, a surge of inadequacy filling you. Still, you clear your throat and give a tremulous answer.

“Hi. I…I’m here to visit my family.”

The man doesn’t budge, still pinning you with his unflinching stare. Sweat breaks out on your back. Are you at the right place?

“The Cattons,” you offer, an awkward smile stretching your lips. “My brother should already be here.” You start rummaging through your backpack to pull out a map. “This is Saltburn, right? Auntie Elspeth sent me the itinerary but perhaps I-”

He cuts you off, seeming almost annoyed with you.

“Right, you’re…earlier than we expected, Ms. Start.”

“I could come back later-”

“The gates aren’t open. We’d have sent someone to pick you up.”

You glance back, dumbfounded. The gates were definitely open, weren’t they? Or perhaps that little door wasn’t supposed to be crossed. Your cheeks flame. The elaborate rules your wealthy relatives abide by are already eluding you. 

Your shoulders heave and fall.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t that long a walk.”

The man stiffly allows you in. You note the two black men standing by the door. They haven’t uttered a single word, blending into the background. Always seen but never heard. You believe your brother mentioned something like that in his sporadic texts and letters. Your gaze tears from them. The inside of Saltburn is even more majestic, a thing you didn’t think possible. Standing in a museum wouldn’t be much different, you suppose, between the antiques sitting on shelves, paintings hanging on the walls and crystal chandeliers hovering above you. 

So, this is what generational wealth looks like. 

When you were little, you didn’t notice this. You were too busy playing. Now, it’s all you can see. 

“Just leave your bag there. Someone will get it for you,” the man says.

“Someone, as in…”

“Someone,” he repeats, staunchly refusing to elaborate.

The grip on the handle of your suitcase tightens. 

“I really don’t need it. I can carry it myself.”

The man considers you, his face twitching as if you just spat in it. Your insides stir in confusion. All you’ve said is that you don’t mind carrying your own luggage. 

The loud utterance of your name has your head snapping sideways.

Your mouth falls open when a towering, young man in a yellow shirt around your age strides in your direction.

He halts in front of the stern man, chiding him with a playful lilt in his tone.

“Really Duncan? You’re scaring the poor girl. Duncan, stop being so terrifying. She’s family.” 

“Well, I shall try.” 

You note the subtle warmth in the man’s tone as he addresses the newcomer.

He turns to you, beaming. Your stomach flutters. “Cousin, try not to be too terrified of Duncan.”

You’re taken aback when he grabs the hand gripping the suitcase. His large hand completely engulfs yours. 

“I’ll show her to her room. Don’t worry,” he chimes. He pulls you away and you’re forced to keep up with his long, enthusiastic strides. He tosses you a glance, laughing when you sort of hop behind him. “Sorry about that. Duncan’s a bit odd, but he’s alright, you’ll see.”

“And you are…?”

Disappointment creeps on his face at your question. He spreads a hand over his chest.

“Felix, your cousin. Golly, you don’t remember me? Really? That kind of hurts.”

Your eyes grow. The picture in your mind was that of a chubby-cheeked, clumsy little boy. Your cousin definitely isn’t that anymore.

“Oh my god, yes! Felix. You don’t have a lisp anymore and…You’re like a giant now.”

A smug expression lights his features.

“Puberty.”

You laugh in response. “Yeah, I guess we all grew up.”

A strange glint fleets across his gaze as he gives you a quick once over.

“Clearly,” he says, his smile expanding.

He shows you around the estate. You can’t suppress your awe when he mentions Henry VIII, surprised Saltburn’s history stretches that far back. The library also radiates ancient and priceless, countless rare leather-bound books sitting on the shelves. A smile creeps on your face when Felix greets the ghost of your grandmother.

He takes you through a vertiginous amount of hallways until taking you to what will be your room. It’s apparently right next to Venetia’s. You glance around, expecting another long lost cousin to pop up perhaps. But it’s just you and Felix in the vast bedroom.

He leans against the doorjamb while you soak in the room and the massive bed, large enough to welcome three or four people. It’s nothing like your tiny bed at home or the one in your college dorm. This is something you never had, and that is just Felix and Venetia’s normal. It makes you speechless.

You drop your backpack on the floor at the foot of the bed.

The mattress bounces as you plop down on it. You let your fingers skim over the blissfully soft sheets.

Your contemplation is abbreviated by the ringing of your phone. You flip it open. The screen lights up, signaling a new message received. You type on the glowing arrows to find out it’s from Mom. 

Remember to ask your aunt and uncle for what we talked about. 

I really need you, sweetie. 

You unleash a heavy breath. Your mom is the one who pressured you to go on this trip. Ever since her brother’s regular payments have dried up, your mother’s been relentless. She keeps claiming she wants her share of the trust and your uncle argues that she used all of it. First, she recruited Farleigh to speak on her behalf. Your brother’s attempts have met little success however. So your mother enlisted you. 

You don’t know what more you can do that your brother couldn’t, but you can never say no to anything your mother asks. 

“Is something wrong?” Felix inquires, making his way to your bed to sit near you. The scent of his pricey cologne tingles your nose. 

“It's nothing,” you lie. “Just Mom asking if my arrival’s been smooth.”

Your cousin seems like the living embodiment of sunshine, just like you remember. If possible, you want to keep him out of the money issues between your mom and Uncle James.

Felix tilts his head as he studies you.

“It’s kinda funny.”

“What?”

“The way you say ‘mum’”

A laugh peals from your lips. 

“I guess I’m gonna have to get used to my accent being made fun of.”

Felix shrugs. “My mum will think it’s exotic.”

You cringe inside. You never liked that word, how it makes you feel like an animal in a zoo.

Switching topics, you ask, “Is my brother around? I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Ah, Farleigh’s probably skulking about somewhere.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

Felix collects the book poking through the zipper of your backpack. He flips through the stained pages of your copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood prince. You accidentally spilled coffee on it during a late night study session.

“You could talk to him about this,” he offers, waving the book. “We’ve kind of been passing around Venetia’s copy. Although I tend to skip to the most interesting parts, but don’t tell everyone else.”

You smile.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you reply solemnly.

He watches you for a long time, long enough for your gaze to find the floor as your face heats.

“It’s really good having you here with us, cousin. I mean it.”

You fidget in your spot. “Thanks.”

Felix flashes you a mischievous grin.

“But I’ll need to make sure you remember me this time.”

The rest of the day is spent reconnecting with your other relatives. Everyone gathers in the library and you get to meet Venetia, realizing she too has changed a lot since you were kids. 

Oliver, Felix’s friend from Oxford is also there. From your cousin’s broad explanations, it appears he’s grieving the loss of one of his parents, so he invited him to make sure he isn’t alone. It’s unbelievably kind. Besides, you’re guessing from Oliver’s lost puppy dog stares and awkward manners, that he’s as out of place as you are here. Instant sympathy blooms inside you when you’re introduced to him.

A woman named Pamela is also in attendance. She is Aunt Elpseth’s close friend, though it’d be hard to tell, the way she orders her around like a servant and exposes the long list of tragedies her love life has been to the entire room.

A saying about friends and enemies flutters through your mind as you witness their interactions. It’s such a bizarre spectacle, watching this red-haired woman, dead behind the eyes, bend over backwards for your aunt. You don’t remember Aunt Elspeth being this cold-blooded.

And naturally, there is your brother. Farleigh. Aloof in the back, apart from the Cattons, your eyes collide from across the room. He smiles at you. You smile back. Warmth flows through you.

It’ll be a while before you’re comfortable around each other again. It pains you to say, but you don’t know your own brother all that well anymore.

Dinner’s a strangely formal affair. Everyone’s dressed to the nines, giving the family gathering more of a cocktail party vibe than that of a family dinner. Venetia lends you a dress so you aren’t the odd one out. You thank her profusely. All you packed when you left America are jeans and a few pairs of shorts. It never occurred to you that you’d need any kind of formal wear since you figured you would be around family. 

But you failed to take into account said family is also a part of British high society. 

Awkwardness fills you as you hesitate over the utensils, the different kinds of knives and forks making you dizzy. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself on the first day. Seeming to grasp your predicament, Venetia nudges your elbow when you grip the right fork and knife. 

You mutter a quiet ‘thanks’ and she winks at you. 

Several courses are brought on silver platters, one after the other. The entire time, you focus on your plate, swallowing every bland, flavorless bite.

Stiff conversation is exchanged at the table, most of it centering on Aunt Elspeth’s dour-looking friend. Once more, compassion flutters through you.

It’s blatant to everyone at the table that Pamela isn’t wanted at Saltburn anymore.

It’s a relief when dinner concludes and you can return to your bedroom.

You sit by the large window in your room to admire the night sky. Between the skyscrapers and artificial lights, it’s hard finding a spot to look at the stars in New York. Here however, you can make out constellations and various other glittering shapes.

Venetia joins you on the windowsill. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows smoke on the window. She shoots you a cheeky smile.

“So, do you regret coming already?” she teases.

You fiddle with your hands. 

“It’s fine. Everyone’s nice. It’s…kind of unreal being here.”

“Just remember this is your home too.”

You mull it over. It is becoming clear to you how much you don’t fit in with the Cattons, despite sharing blood with them. You wonder if it’s how your brother has felt all these years. Like an outsider amidst his own kin. Although, you have to admit he looked quite comfortable at dinner. Far more than you, definitely.

“I’ll…try to remember that.” You hesitate, gnawing on your lip before speaking again. “Is Pamela gonna be okay, you think?”

Venetia shrugs.

“I think she’ll be alright.”

Your lips purse. Who knows how that haunted woman will fare once she’s on her own in the world again? You’re not too hopeful. But it seems like Aunt Elspeth is done with her, so it cannot be helped you suppose.

“If you say so.” You tilt your head at your cousin, dropping casually. “Do you think Uncle James is still up?”

“At this hour, Daddy will be in his study.”

You nod and get to your feet. Wandering the halls of Saltburn at night is a peculiar experience. The shadows clinging to the walls seem to follow your every step. Dusty slices of moonlight spill from the windows, bringing the stern portraits of your distant relatives to life, the aged hues of the paintings shifting in the dim light.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you're being watched. The back of your neck tingles as the sound of your fearful steps echoes in the vast halls. A breeze of cool air seeps through your clothes. You tug on the cardigan Venetia let you borrow from her closet, hurrying your pace. 

For a long time, you spin in circles, growing desperate to find your uncle’s study. Your spirits sour. You followed Venetia’s instructions to the letter yet you got lost. A left, a right, straight along the green room, then…another right?

You frown. Now you can’t remember. Why does every hallway look the same here?

Astray in your own mind, you carelessly bump into a hard object. 

You lift your gaze. Your jaw drops.

“Felix,” you exclaim, placing a hand over your heaving chest. “You scared me.” 

Mirth glints in his brown orbs.

“Lost, cousin?”

Avoiding his eyes, you scratch your am.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” you mumble.

Felix chuckles and seizes your arm. 

“It’s not. It’s easy to get lost here.” You gasp as he pulls you alongside him. “Just tell me where you need to go and I’ll show you the way.”

Too dumbstruck by his abrupt appearance, you let Felix drag you through the somber hallways. The sharp twists and turns he takes make your head spin. There is no way you’d have found the study on your own. 

He halts in front of two mahogany doors. Your feet bounce as your hand lingers on the brass handles.

Felix knocks on the door and your heart leaps.

“I’ll wait for you here, so you don’t get lost again,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” you squeak.

He leans over you and smiles.

“I insist, cousin. I have to prove to you not all of us are completely horrible…despite what you may have seen.”

Your face warms.

“T-Thank you.”

James’ voice rises from inside the room, giving you permission to enter. You nod at Felix and take shaky steps inside the study. The crackle of logs burning away reaches you. The swaying flames mingle with the shadows, casting a faint orange glow on the room. 

“Uncle James, may I speak to you?” you bashfully inquire.

He lowers his round glasses and puts down the notebook in his hands.

“Of course. Anytime, love. Have a seat.”

“Is something troubling you, child?”

You gulp the lump stuck in your throat, staring at your lap for a while before you meet your uncle’s gaze again. You shift in your seat.

You don’t know how to ask or, more precisely, the appropriate way to ask. A wide lungful enters your lungs. Why delay the inevitable?

You elect to dive right into your reason to be here.

“My mother. Well, she was wondering…” Your nerves buzz as your uncle’s sharp eyes cut into you. You clear your throat before continuing. “We were wondering if there were issues on your side because she hasn’t…” Sweat blooms inside your palms as your voice dwindles to a whisper. “Well, you haven’t sent anything like you usually do and it’s been two months now.”

A heavy coat of silence falls over the study. After a while, your uncle unleashes a deep sigh.

“And she sent you to vouch for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. “Mom, she…She isn’t really good with money.” This is a massive understatement, and from the way Uncle James’ eyes bear into yours, it’s clear that he’s also aware of that fact. As much as you love your mom, she’s never been the most responsible with money, often squandering it on flashy things and pretty clothes. More than once growing up, she fell short on a bill and you couldn’t even shower before going to school. “If you could help this one time, then I’ll figure something out for her. I promise.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, young lady?” your uncle challenges.

“I…I’ll find a way. We always find a way.”

“You’re a very good daughter, which I can appreciate…” Your pulse races as you wait with bated breath. “But I’ve given your mother more than enough for her to get on her feet. Still, she always asks for more.”

Your heart plummets. The finality laced in his tone didn’t elude you. Why did you even think you could sway your uncle’s opinion in any way when your own brother, who has been around the Cattons for years, couldn’t accomplish that feat?

“She has issues…but I promise, uncle, she’ll get herself together this time,” you offer.

“I will give it some thought.”

He flashes you a sympathetic smile. You recognize its meaning right away. It’s strikingly similar to the one Aunt Elspeth gave her “friend” at the dinner table. 

Understanding you are being dismissed, you get up from the chair and bid your uncle good night.

“Thank you for listening,” you say glumly before leaving.

As Felix escorts you back to your bedroom, you can’t help but notice that Uncle James never once referred to your mother as his sister.

You frankly doubt he will give what you said any semblance of thought. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that entire conversation vanished from his head the second you stepped out of his study.

The rest of the week goes smoothly. Lazy summer days with your cousins and brother fly by in a hazy blur. Hanging by the pond beneath the sizzling sun. Displaying your terrible tennis playing skills to the entire group. Scary movie nights with the whole family during which Venetia and Felix laugh at you because you watch most of the film through your fingers and hide your face in a pillow whenever the monster appears.

It’s nice. You start thinking that reuniting with your extended family for the summer wasn’t such a rotten idea.

You nearly forget your mother. Nearly.

Though with the daily messages you receive detailing the squalor she’s living in, it’s impossible to forget. Guilt grows within you each day.

“She’s been texting you too?” Farleigh asks as he sits at the edge of the tennis court next to you. He’s still in his tux while you’re still wearing one of Venetia’s sparkly dresses, as all of you decided to sneak out of Aunt Elspeth’s uptight dinner party to catch the sunset and play a game of tennis. One thing you’ve come to learn about your cousins. They do whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want. Part of you envies that. The carefree knowledge that whatever mess you make, someone will clean up behind you…discreetly and in silence at that.

You flip your phone shut and sigh.

“Nonstop.” You sag in the chair. “I’ve done all I can.”

“Yeah…Me too.”

“I feel awful.”

You’re taken aback when your brother says, “Don’t. This isn’t your fault.”

You tentatively reach over his armchair to squeeze his hand.

“It’s not yours either,” you assure softly. Your brother shocks you when his fingers wrap around yours. You don’t think you held hands like this since you were toddlers. You were always the clingy one, following after your big brother like a lost puppy.

You and your brother remain like this for a while, eyes trailing the downward race of the sun over the horizon. 

When night falls, you’re surprised to find a tall, familiar form slipping through the wall of your bedroom. 

“Felix!” He puts a finger over his lips as a sign to lower your voice. It instantly dips to a whisper. “How did you get here?”

Amusement paints Felix’s features at your flabbergasted expression. He clicks the door shut. 

You blink. Once closed, the secret entrance blends seamlessly into the wall. There is no way you could have known this was here.

“Secret passageway. Old castles like Saltburn have plenty of them,” he explains, crawling over your bed.

“Oh.” 

As your eyes drag over his frame and you note that Felix’s just in his shorts, fire creeps inside your cheeks. Of course, you’ve seen your cousin in trunks but usually, it’s around the entire group. For some reason, a sliver of discomfort pools within you. You look away and clear your throat.

“Is it…okay for you to be here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that…nothing.”

A deep chuckle peals from his chest. The mattress bounces as Felix lets himself fall onto your sheets. He makes himself comfortable on the pillow near you, putting his hands behind his head as a lazy smile spreads on his lips.

“Don’t be silly. We’re family. It’s like when we were little and we’d all sleep in the same bed.”

You can’t help but smile at that. He’s right; you’re overreacting.

“Right. That was so fun.”

He lies on his side, elbow bent as he buries one hand in his tousled brown curls. 

“You used to have nightmares so you’d always sneak into my bed or Farleigh’s.”

“Now that you’re saying it, I think I remember that.”

“You’re still as cute as I remember.” Felix’s brown eyes twinkle as he drinks you in. “No…Even cuter.”

“Thanks.”

He approaches you and starts playing with the hem of your cotton shorts, twiddling the fabric between his forefinger and thumb.

Brown eyes dive right into yours.

“I saw you with Farleigh today. You looked sad.”

You shake your head.

“It’s nothing…just got some stuff on my mind.”

Felix’s smile dies.

“You also looked sad when you left Dad’s office the other day.”

You bristle. “It’s nothing important, really.”

“Your mom?” he inquires. When you don’t reply, Felix’s knuckles sweep over your outer thigh, his deep timbre softening, “You can trust me, cousin.”

You unleash a sharp, audible breath, budding tears tickling your eyelids.

“It’s just a lot. She’s asking things from me that I don’t know if I can do much about.”

Felix collects one of your stray tears with his thumb. He then snatches your hands from your lap and clutches them in his. They completely swallow yours.

“She shouldn’t ask anything of you. It’s not fair. You’re her daughter. She should protect you. Not the other way around.”

You sniffle. “I don’t know. It’s just been me and my mom for so long. Especially after Farleigh decided to stay in England most of the time. So I feel like…I need to take care of her, you know? Because she always took care of me.”

He cups your cheek, wiping more of your tears.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good, cousin.”

Felix then sits up and conjures a lighter and a blunt from the back pocket of his shorts.

You gawk at him as he lights it in front of you, taking a deep drag before blowing smoke in your face.

Your stomach tingles when he offers it to you.

“I don’t know if I should…”

Felix’s timbre lowers seductively as he grabs your hand and slips the roll between your fingers. Even holding it doesn’t feel right.

“Come on, you’ll feel better. It’ll free your mind. No thoughts. No troubles. Just…light and happy.”

“That sounds amazing,” you mumble.

“Then try a puff.”

You bring the blunt to your mouth and immediately cough.

“You gotta go slow,” he chuckles. Once you’ve retrieved your breath, he nudges it against your mouth again.  “Here, another.”

The room begins to swirl around you. You lie back, a heady, cotton-like sensation spreading from your head to your toes.

“Damn…” you whisper as your limbs slacken, the tension in your body slowly melting away.

Felix lies back next to you, his grin growing.

“See? That’s why you should always listen to me, cousin.”

It becomes a habit, Felix sneaking into your room and the two of you smoking in your bed every night. Him slipping through the secret door doesn’t even faze you anymore, and your reservations about getting high evaporate a little more with every puff you inhale. The serene sensation and warm tingles you get afterwards are entirely too pleasant. 

It’s something you’ve never experienced. Letting go. For a few precious minutes, the burdens on your shoulders can vanish.

You don’t tell Venetia, or even Farleigh. You still remember him going full big brother mode that one day when you tried to join the rest of them when they hung out naked in the field. The Cattons siblings laughed as you were escorted away, burning from head to toe at the humiliation.

You don’t want a repeat of that. Always being the good girl is exhausting. Not that your brother would understand. He gets to live life on his own terms. Get kicked out from as many schools as he likes. Charm his way through the world. You don’t. For once, you want to revel in doing something…a little forbidden. Something the nerdy, party-avert, studious girl you forced yourself to be all these years would never do.

So the nightly meetups become you and Felix’s secret.

It’s all casual, harmless fun. Until, one night,  everything changes. As your head lolls back on the pillows, your gaze fixated on the ceiling, your cousin’s fingers dance over your half-exposed belly.

“Feeling better?” he mutters, his voice low and secretive.

“Yeah.”

“I know a way you can feel even better.”

You don’t think much of it. Not even when he slithers across the sheets, finding his way between your legs. He tugs your shorts down, slowly, until you’re down to your panties in front of him. The rush of cool air on your skin makes you tremble.

“Felix, what are you doing?” you chuckle, high enough not to fully register what’s going on.

A playful smile ghosts over your cousin’s lips. He blows on your clothed center and the sensation draws a giggle from you, even as a faint layer of panic is trying to pierce through the haze.

“You seemed so stressed today. It’ll help you relax…” he promises, trailing sluggish kisses up your inner thigh. As his lips travel upward, your stomach clenches. He hooks two fingers inside your panties to push them aside.

Your cousin’s gaze darkens, his smile broadening, as he basks in the sight of your bare, shuddering folds. He licks his lips before kissing the center of you. 

Your limbs tense as Felix starts unraveling you with his tongue. He licks a stripe over your folds, his tongue tarrying over your tender bud. The breath catches in your throat. He traces slow circles over your button, tearing a soft gasp from you everytime he suckles the sensitive spot between his lips.

Felix hums while his head bobs between your thighs.

A tingly, warm feeling starts blooming in your core, scattering to your entire body. Hot and irresistible. A wave of heat that slowly takes over your entire frame.

You clutch the sheets.

Your eyes rise to the heavens as heat pulses through your core.

“No, Felix, this is… this is wrong,” you wheeze out between aching breaths. 

His devious laughter ripples through your core. 

“I’m just trying to make you feel good. How can that be wrong, cousin?” he says innocently, before flicking his tongue over your folds. He spreads you even more, dipping in and out of you as quiet shouts rip from your throat. Your back curves over the sheets. Your lids flutter as you peer at the ceiling unseeingly. 

His sinful baritone nudges you to your undoing.

“Just let go. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You quake, the tense heat growing too much to bear. Your insides coil. Sparks erupt from your center, traveling outward. Your body goes limp as you collapse over the sheets, dazed and breathless. Tears of arousal trickle from your core and your cousin greedily savors every wayward drop. Shame scalds your insides as you feel him lap up your nectar, your wide gaze glued to the ceiling.

The next morning, panic rushes through you as your eyes snap open.

“Hey, hey, you don’t need to freak out,” Felix says lightly, pulling you against him from behind. His hand settles over your rapidly moving chest. 

“Last night…” you say, choking on a sob as you recall bits and pieces. You were so damn high. Still, you’re pretty sure what you think happened…happened. Even in your own head, you can’t put it into words. You rub your thighs. Stickiness lingers there from Felix’s ravenous tongue. Shame burns in your gut.

As you try to climb off the bed, Felix yanks you back. He slams you down on your back. Your heart jumps as he looms over you, his broad body easily caging yours. 

He frames your chin, drawing your attention to him.

“We just had some fun, you and I,” he says, thumb tracing your quivering lip. “That’s all. No one ever has to know.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you keep pulling on your tiny camisole, pathetically attempting to cover your nakedness. Felix chuckles.

“Gosh, you really need to stop being so uptight, pretty cousin.”

He drops a quick peck on your cheek before dragging his lips over your earshell.

“It’s okay. We’ll work on loosening you up.”

For a few days, Felix doesn’t visit your room again. You’re thankful for that. You can barely meet your cousin’s gaze now, the fear of someone finding out what happened eating you alive. You can’t imagine coming back after so many years only to cause havoc and drama.

Your mom would be so disappointed. Your brother would be livid.

So you do as Felix says. You keep your lips firmly sealed. It’s not like it’ll go further than that anyway. The two of you were high, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

None of this would have happened otherwise.

Unfortunately, your meticulously crafted wall of denial explodes when your cousin shows up again one night.

You tremble as your eyes rest on him. Felix smiles at you, pushing the secret door closed. You note the camera dangling from his neck. The entire day was spent snapping pictures to remember the summer. You took so many silly ones with Venetia and your brother. For a while, you let yourself forget. Felix took most of the pictures today, appearing in very few himself. You just didn’t expect him to still be wearing it this late.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply shyly.

“How are you feeling today?”

Your lips clamp shut. Today was awful. Apparently your mom might be getting evicted soon. She hasn’t stopped texting you about it the entire day, and even some of the night because of the time difference. You feel so dauntingly powerless…and awful. You’re staying in a literal castle while your mom might be homeless soon.

“I’m good.”

He takes lithe steps towards you, his handsome face twisting in sympathy as he plops down on your bed. He removes the camera from around his neck and tosses it over your pillows.

“No you’re not. You’re still worried about your mom. You were checking your phone all day today.”

You bring your knees close to your chest.

“It’s fine, Felix.”

Felix sighs, concern swimming in his brown gaze.

“No, it’s not fine.” His fingers roam over your ankle as he lies on his side. “You know…” Felix pauses, eyes holding yours. “I could talk to my dad if you want. He never refuses me anything.” He flashes a sunny grin. “After all, I’m his precious boy. His firstborn son.”

You gape at him. 

“You really would do that for my mom?”

Felix sits up and closes the distance between the two of you. He bends over you, placing his large hands over your feet. You follow the stars tattoos etched atop his hand; his sister has the same ones if you recall.

His knees graze your ankles as he says, “Not for your mom. For you, cousin. So that frown on your face can finally…” He flicks your brow with his thumb and laughs. “...disappear. Like magic.”

You consider Felix, relief and awe storming through you.

Without giving it much thought, you toss your arms around his neck.

“Thank you so much,” you exclaim.

“Of course…” His fingers travel along your spine. “I’d just have a little favor to ask in return.”

“Sure, anything,” you answer easily.

He pulls back, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s not much.”

The heady scent of his cologne washes over you as he leans forward.

“I’ve been aching somewhere lately and I need you to make it better, cousin.”

“Oh, aching…where?”

“I think it’s best if I just show you.”

A foreboding inkling flares in your gut. Still, you don’t move as Felix “shows you”. He tugs on his shorts. He slowly pulls on the fabric, shimmying out of it as you hold your breath. When his length springs free, you unleash a small squeak. Your reaction drags a laugh out of Felix.

Though you don’t really want to, you can’t help but stare. It’s thick and long with veins running alongside the shaft. The tip points upward, glistening and red.

“I don’t know if I can help with…something like that,” you mumble, your voice wavering at the end.

“Sure you can.”

He lifts your chin, diving his eyes into yours.

“I just need somewhere warm, and soft, to slip the tip of my cock so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Shock parts your lips.

“Felix…”

He hooks his thumb inside your open mouth, a lopsided grin stretching on his face.

“Come on, it’ll just be the tip, I promise. Then we never have to talk about it anymore. You won’t even feel it, I swear.”

“Just the…tip?” you say, your throat knotting as your gaze drifts down. You take in Felix’s size, swallowing thickly. It matches the rest of him, you suppose. You don’t even think it could fit, not fully. So just the tip is probably for the best. “Nothing more?”

“Just the tip. And I’ll talk to my dad first thing in the morning.” He strokes your cheek, uttering softly, “I bet your mom will be so happy for what you did for her.”

You heave out a deep, resigned breath. Right, your mom. While you’re not too comfortable with what Felix is asking for, if it means he’ll talk to Uncle James, you don’t have it in you to refuse. A favor for a favor. Then you’ll spend the rest of the summer forgetting it ever happened. You can do that. 

You peer up at Felix. 

“Okay then but don’t…stay too long.”

He beams at you. 

“You’re amazing.” 

Felix leans back. He removes his shorts fully, revealing himself in all his naked glory.

“Just lay back for me, cousin,” he instructs. He slants his head, satisfaction filling his gaze when you do as he says. “Open those perfect legs of yours.” His pupils swell with lust as you part your quivering thighs. 

“Good girl,” he praises. 

Felix crawls over you. You freeze. He grips the waistband of your pajama bottoms to slide them off your legs. He takes his time, agonizingly slow as he soaks in every tiny shift on your face. Horror curls your insides. You wish he’d just get it over with. But it’s clear Felix wishes to enjoy every mortifying second of this. 

Your panties are next. Once again, he drags it out. Warmth blooms in your face as cool air hits your bare folds. It’s worse than last time, because there’s nothing to dull your senses, or pretend it isn’t happening.

“Don’t close your legs. I want to see everything,” he says when you try to hide from him. His throat bobs, hunger lurking in his eyes as he licks his lips. “You have a really pretty pussy, you know that, cousin?”

“Please, don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“B-Because it’s embarrassing.”

He smirks. 

“You’re so fucking cute.”

Your cousin plucks the discarded camera and points it at your face. The blinding light sears your eyelids as he quickly snaps a series of pictures of you in the compromising position.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your pulse soaring.

“W-Why did you just take a picture?”

“Because I want to remember you like this.” 

He chortles as you try to snatch the camera from his hands, keeping it out of your reach with ease with his long arm.

“Delete it, Felix,” you plead. 

He tilts his head, his expression dripping with mischief.

“Sure, if you do everything I say, I’ll delete it.”

Tears brim beneath your lashes. You want to trust Felix. You really do. But he always asks for more. You wonder where it’ll end, if it ever will.

“You promise?”

“Of course. I’d never lie to you, cousin.”

He places the camera on the floor near the bed. If you thought you could get past him, destroy the camera, you would. However you’re beginning to realize something about Felix. He always gets his way. 

He crawls his way to you. You don’t resist as Felix nudges you down, trapping you beneath him. The fitful drumming of your heart fills your ears. 

He bends down, stealing your lips in a heated kiss. His lips sweep over yours, hungry, feverish. He cups the side of your face, moaning as he explores your mouth. His hands start wandering over your body. They feel everywhere at once, kneading and teasing your flesh. Felix pulls your top over your head so you’re in nothing but your bra. 

He deepens the kiss, his tongue stealing your air and sanity. You melt beneath him. 

The air is robbed from your lungs when he starts prodding at your entrance. Your fingers clench around the sheets. His thick tip stretches you so much already. You can barely take it.

His voice comes out hoarse and strained.

“You feel so bloody good.”

He pushes a bit more. You tense, your walls aching at his size. Your tearful gaze rises to the ceiling. Felix seizes your chin, pulling it so your eyes lock with his.

“Look at me,” he instructs.

He piledrives into you, sheathing himself inside you completely. Your vision flickers as he finds the hilt of you. Your lips part in a silent scream. Your chest heaves and falls quickly. 

“Felix, you said…”

He shushes you, pinning both of your wrists above your head as he begins moving inside you. A wicked glow burns in Felix’s brown gaze. “I know what I said…but it feels too good inside you, cousin.”

“But you promised...” you sob. 

He kisses away your tears, his voice mellowing.

“I’m sorry,” he says after thrusting inside you deeply. “I’m so sorry…” Your toes flex, stars creeping in your sight with each of your cousin’s vigorous thrusts. His pace doesn’t relent, even as you weep and plead him with your eyes. He almost seems to pluck joy from your quiet helplessness. His chest brushes over yours as his lips ghost over your earshell. “But I don’t think I can stop.”

Your breathing quickens. As Felix’s cock grazes along your sensitive spots, little whimpers spill from your throat. He drapes one hand over your mouth, still pounding inside you. 

“Shh, be quiet for me, cousin. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, right?”

“I think our uncle likes you better than me.”

You look at your brother through your sunglasses. You’re thankful for them. They’ve done a nice job concealing the puffiness of your eyes. You’ve been crying a lot lately. Too often. It started the night Felix snuck into your room and the flood hasn’t really stopped since. All of it turns your stomach. The lying, the sneaking around…the sick, twisted lies. His sick, twisted lies. It was supposed to just be one time.

Felix deceived you.

Every night since that one, your cousin found his way into your room, coaxing you to do things that make you hate yourself afterwards. It’s even slowly escalated to daily trysts. Felix would conjure excuses to steal you away while your other relatives are blissfully unaware. Having his way with you in a dark corner. Fingering you in the library. Cornering you in the maze to taste the nectar between your legs. Your cousin seems determined to make sure no inch of Saltburn isn’t tainted by his wicked desires.

This is a nightmare.

Your mom was so overjoyed on the phone after receiving Uncle James’ payment. And you’re glad you could help. But the cost…Did your mother’s happiness have to occur at your expense? You’re so exhausted, ashamed. You don’t know how long you can stand to be the vessel for your cousin’s lurid fantasies.

Even proper rest is denied to you now, the fear of someone figuring it out keeping you wide awake for hours every night.

“I doubt that,” you say, your lips curving in a stilted smile.

Farleigh leans back in his lounge chair, pushing his sunglasses over his nose.

“Still, good job, little sis.” A wide grin blooms on his face. “Guess being a goody two-shoes has its perks.”

Your chest clenches at your brother’s remark.

As Felix’s eyes find yours from across the pond, your blood freezes. He smiles at you. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. You shift, your attention returning to your brother.

“I-I don’t know about that.”

You thought the awfulness reached its peak. You were wrong. A new brand of twisted is introduced by Felix during breakfast with the entire family.

He sits next to you, smiling at you. You don’t think much of it. Why would you? He’s done this before. Taunt you. Tease you. Torment you. Even in front of the rest of them.

But what he does today, while Aunt Elspeth sits across from you and your brother is on your other side…it’s just ghastly. Impious.

Felix’s digits roam atop your thigh. You shoot him a glare. He pointedly ignores you, carrying a casual conversation with his mom while playing with the hem of your dress.

You focus on your plate. He caresses the inside of your thigh as you bring the fork to your lips.

He presses two fingers against your clothed center. Pushing, pressing and swirling around your tender bud. Your knees rub, heat gathering at the apex of your thighs.

The metal of the fork damn near shatters your teeth as you choke on a mouthful of eggs.

You apologize swiftly, shakily grabbing the glass of water near your plate. You take a long swig from it and clear your throat. Felix’s digits dip further inside you. Your breath hitches. He stops just shy of letting you come apart, bringing you to the cusp only to retreat at the very last second. A meticulously thought out torture.

It lasts for almost the entirety of breakfast, only reaching an end when Venetia rises from the table. You follow right after her, excusing yourself with a tense smile.

Hollow steps take you through an endless series of hallways. You can hardly even think, the enormity of what your cousin just did in front of his parents, in front of everyone, shocking you into numbness. Where will his depravity end? You long for summer to end so perhaps you can finally be free from your cousin.

You wind up in an empty room brimming with dusty books and antiques. You sit in a corner, knees against your chest, as you revel in a rare moment of respite. You don’t get these as often anymore. Not if your cousin has anything to say about it.

As usual, it doesn’t take long for Felix to find you a little later. Your heart skips a beat when his towering frame darkens the doorway, blocking any chance of an escape.

“Playing hide and seek, cousin?” he teases, amusement laced in his voice.

Tears swim in your eyes as you shoot him an accusing look.

“At breakfast, really? Someone could have seen, Felix. M-My brother, he could have seen.”

Rolling his eyes, he hops towards you to take a seat next to you. His rebuttal is disturbingly nonchalant.

“We’re not gonna get caught.”

“I think we should stop,” you sputter, your mouth wobbling. 

His brows squeeze together, a mix of annoyance and confusion twisting his features.

“Why?”

You fiddle with the bottom of your dress, struggling to meet his irate stare. 

“I’m grateful for everything you did, really, but this doesn’t feel right.”

His cheek pulses, a strange grin dragging his lips upward. Your stomach sinks. 

“We’re just having fun, you and I, cousin.”

Your words warp into a watery croak.

“This isn’t fun, Felix.”

A weary sigh drops from his chest. 

“It’s because you’re overthinking it,” he says, reaching out to cup your cheek. You turn your head. Frustration flickers in your cousin’s eyes. As you try to stand, he grabs you and shoves you on the floor. 

“Felix, no…”

Ignoring your sniveling pleas, Felix hastily unzips his jeans and yanks your underwear down to your ankles. 

A strangled sob flows from your lips as he nestles himself inside your wet heat in a single deep, cruel thrust. 

You’re a whimpering mess on the floor as your cousin pounds into you from behind. 

“Just stop fighting it,” he grunts. He twists his fist in your hair, your scalp singing in pain when he tugs at your roots. Tears stream down your face while your cousin snaps his pelvis into your ass. 

“See? This is good.” His warm, heavy exhales tickle your nape. “Doesn’t my cock inside you feel good, cousin?”

“Yes…” you begrudgingly admit, loathing how every time he sinks into you, your toes curl and your eyes roll back on their own, warm tingles dancing through your core.

“Look outside.” You wince as he angles your chin towards the window, his other hand still tangled in your hair. You’re greeted with a beautiful sight of the lush gardens sprawling before the castle. His hot whisper grazes your temple. “Do you see all this? How beautiful Saltburn is…especially in the summer.” His smile carves into your skin.

“One day, all of this will be mine, cousin.” He plants a soft kiss on your cheek. Shivers course through your spine. “And it could be yours too… if you behave.”

#saltburn #felix catton #saltburn fanfiction #felix catton x reader #dark!felix catton #dark!felix catton x reader #saltburn 2023

[lanasblood]

HOW DO I MAKE YOU LOVE ME | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!omatikaya!reader (no mentions of y/n)

summary: you remember all of your attempts to make Neteyam fall in love with you, using various methods, experiencing numerous failures, and you finally come to a conclusion or the five times you failed to win neteyam’s affection and the one time you succeed.

word count: 10k (!!! damn)

warnings: actually none but let’s say hurt/comfort, reader is a simp, 5+1 prompt, confessing, mutual pining, mention of blood, requited/unrequited love, !!adult neteyam!!, flashbacks to childhood and teenager years

note: inspired by the five love languages and the weeknd’s song mentioned in the title.

* gif‘s not mine.

The soft rustling of the teal leaves falling silently to the ground, as light as an ikran feather, is one of the most soothing sounds heard on the still night. The wind touches them gently, as if caressing them, before whirling them up again in a powerful gust, starting the cycle all over again. The moons stand high in the sky, and the stars sparkle like little gems that can beautify anything. The night is quiet, and the soft breeze seems to calm everything down and lull it into a deep sleep. The bright light of the bioluminescent plants lays gently on the moist meadows, illuminating the darkness. It is like a magical tale, perfect and without blemish. Yet, there is one who can't sleep in this harmonic time: you. With your arms and legs stretched out, you lie on your back, feeling like hours have passed since you started staring at the night sky without moving a muscle. You have even decided to sleep outside your hammock to hear and feel the sound of the wind, hoping to finally sink into the dreamland. But, as you know, this has done little to help. 

All because of him. You sigh in annoyance.

For as long as you can remember you've had this crush on the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, you don't know when you developed it, let alone how it really started. You just know that it might have been cute at first – a nice girl from a small clan who has feelings for the older boy next door, but as time went by, it wasn't cute at all; on the contrary, it robs you of precious sleep and will most likely cause you to age prematurely. 

Despite not knowing how and when exactly this crush thing has started, you know that it has gotten worse the more time has passed, and the more time passes, the more failed attempts to get his attention you have behind you. However, there's one event you categorize as time zero - the starting point of your attempts - that you remember vividly: 

You were a mere child and couldn't take your eyes off Neteyam, who was only slightly older than you. Confidently clutching the stem of the rare flower you had been searching for days, you made your way through the lush forest, searching for Neteyam. As you thought about the plan you had concocted, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You had heard from a reliable source that Neteyam was a lover of rare flora, and you hoped that this gift would make him see you in a different light. 

When you spotted him in the distance, his tall figure was moving gracefully through the trees. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, holding out the flower to him.

"Hey, Neteyam," you said, trying to sound casual. "I found this and I thought you might like it." 

Neteyam stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. You held out the flower a bit higher, hoping to see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the flower from your outstretched hand. Looking at the flower now in his hand, the corner of his lips turned upward, causing your heart to flutter.

You told him happily, "It's a very rare flower," beaming a bright smile at him. 

And the next thing you knew, you were holding your breath as he bent slightly forward to your height and patted your head in praise, "It seems you're already a careful gatherer, baby neighbor. Keep it up!"

You felt your heart sink faster than a prey could run when he turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there alone in the forest. You had hoped that your gesture would be enough to make him see you in a different light, but it seemed that it had made no difference at all, or even worse for he had called you the worst possible nickname to exist in all na'vihood. 

As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration settling in you, the deep frown on your face mirroring your inner world. You had tried so hard to get Neteyam to notice you, but it seemed that he was simply not interested.

How do I make you love me?

After a few cycles and many more failed attempts in between, you realized that your little crush was not so little after all. Especially after Neteyam passed his Iknimaya at such a young age, your admiration for him grew every day. The feeling was almost unbearable as you found yourself constantly near him but not receiving the acknowledgment you wished for.

That was until one day, you decided to change that because your hormonal teenager brain had this glorious idea to spend some alone time with Neteyam. You had observed that he enjoyed hunting during his free time when he wasn't bound by his duties as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn. This is why you eagerly joined him on his next hunt, determined to impress him with your own hunting and tracking skills. Looking back, you now realize that your confidence may have been misplaced for your skills were basically non-existent at that time, but back then you were convinced that you were able to hunt.

So, you followed Neteyam deep into the forest, crouching right beside him in the underbrush, watching the herd of talioang grazing in the distance. Their blue and orange skin glinted in the sunlight, and you could hear the low rumble of their voices as they communicated with each other. 

"Do you thi—" Neteyam's hand swiftly covered your mouth, halting your words before they escaped, his touch gentle yet firm. It was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He motioned for you to be quiet and directed your attention towards the herd. As he removed his hand, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement in your blood. This was your chance to prove yourself.

Neteyam slowly and silently made his way towards the herd, you right on his track, moving from one piece of cover to another. Your eyes followed every movement of the muscles on his toned back, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your palms were slick with sweat. Even though you had never really hunted before, you were determined to succeed but Neteyam's captivating presence proved to be a distraction that made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else. 

As you got closer to the herd, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Neteyam signaled for you to stop, and you froze, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He reached out and brushed a twig aside at your feet.

"Watch your steps," he whispered close to your ear, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced as you realized how close he was to you, and you wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Longing to feel his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but turn your head slightly towards him, but you knew you couldn't let your desire distract you from the hunt.

"I do," you whispered back. Trying to calm your racing heart, you focused on the task at hand, scanning the ground for anything else that might make noise. But when you moved, you felt Neteyam's body shift slightly against yours, sending another jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too.

"No, you constantly step on something," he told you, still whispering, but voice stern. 

Feeling caught because there was a high possibility that he was right for you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings in the last couple of minutes, too busy doting on him, you couldn't find arguments to defend yourself, "I do not." 

Neteyam firmly pressed his finger on his own lips, signaling you to be quiet yet again. Your heart beat faster as you met his intense gaze, and you felt a rush of desire wash over you.

"Too much noise," he mouthed, his voice barely audible, and looked back at the herd. Following his gaze, you saw that the talioang had picked up on something, and they were starting to look nervous. You and Neteyam held your breaths, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Suddenly, Neteyam gave the signal, and sprang into action. You just weren't really ready when he gave the signal, so with the first step you took, you stumbled on something growing on the ground and fell over with a short cry. Neteyam who had darted towards the nearest talioang, already drawing his bow and arrow, stopped right in his track when he heard you fall. You looked up at him when he quickly turned to you and then back at the herd but it was too late, the animals already reared up in surprise, and scattered in all directions. However, you were too shocked by your fatal mistake to pay them any attention. You were frozen in place, lying in the dirt, watching Neteyam looking back at you with a slightly agape mouth. The blood rushed to your head and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. 

You ruined it. 

Neteyam's disappointment was tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he was angry. You would be, too. Struggling to express your remorse, the words got caught in your throat as you attempted to apologize. The weight of disappointment were heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of letting him down.

After a long, awkward silence, Neteyam turned to you with a deep sigh. "You need to be more careful," he said, "When you're hunting, you have to be aware of everything around you. One mistake can ruin the whole hunt."

You nodded, feeling ashamed, you were sure your face was as purple as a yovo fruit. You had wanted to impress Neteyam, but instead you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, had blown any chance to show him that you were capable.

How do I make you fall for me?

Over time, you learned from your previous mistakes. Wanting to impress him proved to be harder than anticipated, but having a conversation with him was easier than expected. You needed to show him how much you appreciated him for who he was. As a result, you began to pay closer attention to the way he interacted with others, especially his younger brother Lo'ak, and you started to incorporate some of those phrases into your conversations with him.

One bright day, you nervously approached Neteyam, hoping to strike up a conversation with him using your newfound knowledge:

"Hey, Neteyam," you greeted tentatively, "Whatcha doin'?"

You left out the bro on purpose, fearing it would be overkill. Even so, the words coming out of your mouth sounded strange to you, and for him apparently too, as he rapidly looked up from his task upon hearing your voice, and his otherwise neutral face looked at you with a slightly frowned forehead and attentive eyes, studying you for a moment before he was quick to collect himself and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Not much. Tuk asked me to repair this old basket for her," he said, motioning with his hands on the basket between his legs, "And I'm trying." 

You nodded, trying not to seem too eager, "That's really kind of you. I bet she'll be thrilled once you finish it," you said with a smile. 

Neteyam simply hummed in response and went back to his task, his concentration returning.

"I mean, I would, too. Tuk is very lucky, it must be nice to have a brother like you," you complimented him.

"But you do have a brother," Neteyam reminded you matter-of-factly, "We used to attend the same training sessions so many times."

"Yeah," you continued, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "But, uh, he is not as skilled as you are." Good save. "And he never did such kind things for me when I was little. The only thing he did was teach me how to fight." 

"That's a valuable skill," Neteyam commented.

"Well, what I mean is, he's an ordinary brother, while you are one of a kind, Neteyam. Your siblings are incredibly lucky to have you," you said, emphasizing your point.

Neteyam smiled to himself, his canines slightly showing, as he went back to working on the basket. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of him noticing your flattery.

"I appreciate that," he said, acknowledging your compliment.

After a few minutes of silence, you took a deep breath and you mustered up the courage to ask him a question, "May I say something?"

He looked up at you again and nodded. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You decided to take the chance, "I just wanted to say that you always seem to know just what to do and say, and that's very impressive. You're responsible, always respectful, and very patient. Not just with me but with everyone in our clan. And I want you to know that I really appreciate it, Neteyam." I appreciate you.

Neteyam's expression softened as he listened to your words. "You have a kind heart to express that," he replied, a hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

You took a deep breath and continued, "I know you don't share much about your personal life, but if you ever feel comfortable talking about it I would love to learn more about you."

Neteyam's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."

You felt a warm glow of happiness in your chest as you realized that your words affected him. You were willing to put in the work to get to know him better.

Encouraged by his response, you asked, "So, do you have any concrete plans after your Uniltaron?"

Neteyam's expression faltered a bit upon hearing you mention his upcoming Dream Hunt, he seemed almost reserved all of a sudden. "I do have a few, but they are personal," he replied, "I prefer to keep them to myself."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "Oh, I understand," you said, trying to hide your dejection, "I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, "But some things are best kept within the family."

"Yeah, I get it," you smiled weakly, feeling like you had hit a wall, "Thanks for talking with me, Neteyam."

He nodded and went back to his task, leaving you feeling deflated and uncertain about how to get closer to him.

How do I make you want me?

The previous attempts to win Neteyam's attention had proven unsuccessful: The gifts you gave him didn't have the desired effect, your attempts to impress him by spending time with him backfired (you want to forget that memory of the hunt so badly), and the conversations you had with him remained superficial, never delving deeper into meaningful topics. It was clear that you needed a new approach, a fresh idea to capture his interest which brought you back to point zero.

You walked through the forest, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of the flowers you had been studying for quite some time – the kind you gifted Neteyam when you were little. It turns out that the rare flower wasn't that rare after all, it only bloomed a short time a cycle, which is what made it so valuable. However, if they were dried and powdered, very useful medicines could be made. At some point you had started collecting this flower, as well as other herbs and plants for Tsahìk, and in return she had taught you how to make rich creams and pastes from them. And you could also consume this flower in meals if you let it cook over the fire for a long time. Pondering if it would evoke nostalgia within Neteyam, while you plucked them carefully from the ground, you wondered if he ever remembered the day you gave him that flower in the first place.

Gathering a variety of edible flowers, aromatic herbs, and other nourishing ingredients from the village, you spent all morning helping the women in your clan prepare a wholesome and delicious meal for the warriors. In anticipation of Neteyam's training session, you decided to take this thoughtful approach to show your support and care.

As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, you volunteered to bring the full basket of handmade food wraps and lovely cut fruits to the training area. 

The warriors were engrossed in their practice, their movements fluid and powerful. You scanned the crowd, searching for Neteyam among them.

Spotting him in the midst of the intense training session, his lean muscles glistening with sweat under the warm sun, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. His movements were powerful and precise, each strike displaying his skill as a warrior. His strength and determination did something to you, feeling a magnetic pull towards him. 

Balancing the basket of food in your hands, you approached the outskirts of the training area, careful not to interrupt the warriors' focus. You set up a blanket and arranged the food on it attractively. Your intention was not only to impress Neteyam but to show your support for the entire group.

"I swear, Eywa send you here," you heard someone say next to you, a bit out of breath, while impatient hands reached into the basket and helped you place the food, "I'm starving!"

"Lo'ak, are you allowed to end your training like this?" You questioned, and turned your head in the direction of the warriors — the training was obviously still in full swing, but it was precisely then that you met Neteyam's gaze who was already looking over at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes. 

"Not really but it smells so good, I'm ready to be skinned for these delici— Oh, I'm taking this one, yeah?" He started unwrapping one of the food wraps and hastily bit into it. 

"Hey, wait for the others!" you admonished him, but his wrap was already half eaten.

"Mm, das bom!" you heard him smack loudly, "S'rusly, yur da best."

"I'm glad," you responded, suppressing a laugh. Lo'ak acted like he hadn't eaten in days. 

Noticing the spread of food, the warriors collectively ended the training session, and the men started approaching the nourishing dishes, including freshly grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, and flavorful herbs.

Sensing an opportunity, you went towards Neteyam, a food wrap in your hand, and a warm smile gracing your lips. "I thought I would spare you the long way, in case you're starving like your brother," you joked, gesturing with your head towards Lo'ak behind you, who was taking two more food wraps and calling dips on the rawp.

Neteyam's gaze shifted from the feast you had prepared to the food in his hands and then at you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"That's thoughtful of you," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "It's been an intense training session, and this is a welcome surprise."

You stepped back, allowing him to enjoy the meal with his fellow warriors. Observing from a distance, you noticed the camaraderie and laughter that emerged as they gathered around the spread of food, indulging in the flavors that were carefully crafted.

Throughout the meal, you found yourself drawn to Neteyam's presence. The way he spoke with passion about his experiences, the way he listened attentively to others, and the way his eyes sparkled with a hidden depth — all of it only fueled your growing attraction.

As the training session continued, you lingered nearby, engaging in conversations with other warriors, offering encouragement and companionship. While your initial intention was to impress Neteyam, you found joy in connecting with the community as a whole, so much you almost didn't realize that the day's training had come to an end.

"Thank you for the meal and your company," Neteyam said softly as he walked next to you back to the village, carrying the basket for you with a genuine smile gracing his face. "It meant a lot to all of us."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, "I didn't do much, the others—"

"You are here, that alone is more than enough."

You nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. "I'm glad I could contribute," your voice was filled with sincerity, "Supporting you and the clan is important to me."

A surge of hope welled up inside you, but as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Despite your efforts, the romantic tension you had hoped for seemed to elude you. The conversation remained pleasant yet distant, and it became clear that Neteyam saw you more as a friend than a potential partner. With a heavy heart, you realized that your attempt to catch his interest had once again fallen short.

And make it last eternally?

For quite some time now, you have firmly believed that you have left those days behind you, imprisoned in childhood memories, overlapped by numerous teenage embarrassments. After all, now you are an adult with serious duties and commitments to attend to, and there's neither time nor room for such childish infatuations. Crushing on the future Olo'eyktan. Please. Plus, once you found out how many other girls in your clan, both older and younger than you, adored him, you figured it is best to move on. You were frustrated at times, but you resolved to carry on, cherishing the friendship you shared with Neteyam while silently letting go of your unrequited feelings. At least, that's what you thought...

… until three eclipses ago.

Mere moments before the eclipse, the all-too-familiar soft light danced in the room,  casting a golden hue that revealed the tiniest pollen floating around inside Tsahìk's crowded tent. It had been a long time since so many people had been injured at once, yet no one was ready to explain or report what had happened.

As two new figures entered the tent, one of them supporting the other, you heard a familiar voice speaking calmly, "Focus on not getting blood all over grandmother's tent rather than worrying about my wounds."

"Nah, I'm just- Ouch! Careful, bro!"

"Sorry, brother, but you have to cooperate with me here," Neteyam uttered while carefully helping Lo'ak onto the mat made of woven grasses that Kiri had prepared for them with blankets. 

"I'm just saying—Ahh," Lo'ak hissed as Neteyam applied pressure to his open wound with his bare hands, while Kiri hastily tied together any available cloths for his wound care. "-it's not very mighty of you, you know."

"What is not very mighty of him?" Kiri wanted to know, now taking over and applying pressure to his wound as well to stop the bleeding. As you shifted to Kiri's side, you handed her more cloths that she could wrap around Lo'ak's leg.

"His wounds, of course," Lo'ak grinned when he saw you and gave his older brother another amused sideways glance, before continuing, "but I'm sure he will be in great hands now. Right, bro?"

Just a quick glance at Lo'ak was enough to see that he was far worse off than Neteyam. While his wounds did not appear to be life-threatening, he was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

Tsahìk had already rushed to the four of you, throwing a disapproving look at Lo'ak, "Oh, my boy, let me have a look." With her expertise, she quickly got the situation under control, ordering Kiri to get more cloths while you stood by her side to assist her.

"My child, attend to his wounds," Tsahìk instructed you, but to your surprise she nodded towards Neteyam instead of Lo'ak as she pushed a bowl of fresh water into your hands. "My granddaughter and I can handle this young clumsy man here." Her stern gaze was once again fixed on Lo'ak, who, in turn, only grinned at her.

"Grandmother," Neteyam began soothingly, ready to protest, "there is no need to—" but her piercing eyes silenced him, causing him to follow you wordlessly to the other side of the tent.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in front of Neteyam, tending to his wounds with the gentle touch of your hands, caring for each cut and bruise.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as you wrung the cloth in the water that had already turned a muddy reddish color.

"I'm content with the present circumstances," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. You gave him a sarcastic look, which he reciprocated with a warm smile.

"Well, I suppose then you'll be content with this as well." Pressing the damp cloth into his hand, you stood up and leisurely made your way to Tsahìk's supplies to fetch some healing ointments, and you took your time doing so.

Upon your return, Neteyam watched you attentively, his eyes tracing your every movement, and you wondered if he had been watching you the whole time. There was a newfound curiosity in his gaze, a glimmer of something more. 

"My words came out wrong," he said when you sat back on the ground in front of him. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions, a subtle tension hanging between you. "You're right, I should be more careful. I always strive to be. It's just that there's little one can do in the face of an ambush."

"An ambush?" you asked with big eyes, "Oh, Great Mother! That's what everyone's been trying to conceal. And I was wondering the whole time what could've possibly happened to cause so many injuries."

"They probably didn't want to cause an uproar." You listened to his words, sensing the weight they carried. The mention of an ambush brought back memories of past dangers and harrowing encounters. The gravity of their lives was never far from their thoughts, and you understood the weight that rested on Neteyam's shoulders.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Neteyam," you said softly, voice carrying reassurance, when you continued cleaning the cut on his chest, noticing that he tried not to wince under your touch, "It's alright to lean on others, to let them care for you." 

A flicker of emotion danced across his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he regained his composure. His hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest above his heart, the contact gentle yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment it felt like the boundaries between healer and wounded blurred, "Thank you for being here, for tending to me." His eyes locked with yours, an unspoken promise passing between you, turning your cheeks in a light purply color.

"Now," you cleared your throat with the intention of changing the subject, fervently hoping that he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, "here comes the actual healing part."

Gently, you dipped your fingers into the jar of ointment, scooping out a generous amount. With deliberate movements, you applied the soothing balm to his wounds, careful not to cause any further discomfort. The ointment glided smoothly, creating a soothing sensation that seemed to envelop him in a healing embrace.

"What I meant before is that I am glad that you are the one taking care of me," you smiled upon hearing those words, feeling his gaze on you as you concentrated on his upper body. A gentle warmth radiated from his wounds as your fingertips grazed his skin, mingling with the tender touch of your hands. The ointment possessed a subtle fragrance, hinting at the natural remedies it held within.

As you continued to apply the ointment, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, exploring the intricate landscape of his injuries, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythm of your ministrations became a quiet conversation, a wordless understanding of care and compassion. With every gentle caress, a subtle shiver passed through him, a reaction that spoke of both vulnerability and an underlying trust in your touch. There was a closeness in this shared moment, a connection forged through the tender act of healing.

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes revealing a depth of gratitude and something more profound. It was as if the vulnerability of his wounds had peeled away a layer, exposing a vulnerability of the heart. The strength he embodied as a warrior was softened in this vulnerable space, allowing a snippet into the depths of his mind and soul.

"It never stings when you patch me up, why?" Neteyam asked, his voice laced with wonder, tilting his head slightly.

"The secret is to mix yalnabark with 'omsyul," you replied, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Care to share this secret with my grandmother? And Kiri, too?" Neteyam's request was teasing but also genuine, and you couldn't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Actually, Kiri is the one who taught me this," you admitted, a fondness in your voice.

Neteyam's forehead furrowed slightly, "Then why does it always burn when she patches me up?"

With a twinkle in your eyes, you playfully suggested, "Sibling love?"

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Or perhaps your touch is blessed by Eywa?" His words hung in the air, filled with a newfound flirtation that took you by surprise. 

"Oh, come on now, exaggerate much, do you?" you responded, attempting to brush off his words with a hint of irony, not fully realizing the impact they had on you.

Undeterred by your sarcastic retort, Neteyam looked deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "The caress of your hand weaves a tapestry of enchantment, casting a spell that captivates my very soul."

His words echoed in your mind, resonating with a blend of tender affection and longing. You wished he had said those words when you were younger and so in love with him, meaning every syllable coming from his kissable lips. What you would have given to hear him say it.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, the tension between you both palpable.

"You said I should exaggerate," Neteyam added, a witty glint in his eyes, as if to remind you of your earlier banter. 

Your younger self would have etched his previous words into a tree to make them eternal — words you longed to hear from your crush, words that felt like a dream.

"Crush?" he asked with interest, and your eyes widened with the realization that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. "On whom?"

"Um," a jumble of thoughts flooded your mind at once, too late for an excuse, "You?" 

Your confession left him momentarily speechless, and your heart pounded in your chest. 

It's in the past, so it's okay to admit it, you told yourself, trying to calm down a bit.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Had," you corrected quickly.

"You had a crush on me?" he asked again, as if needing confirmation. It seemed to sweep him off his feet, a revelation he hadn't expected.

"Everyone did, everyone does," you confessed, trying to downplay the significance.

"Everyone except you?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer, "I guess I'm… over it."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Come on, Neteyam," you sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice, "don't act like you didn't know."

"I swear by Eywa this is news to me… I have never…" he hesitated briefly with his words, "It doesn't even make sense."

Make sense?

"Don't make me regret telling you," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "It's not about making sense, and it's not a big deal either, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but I try to understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"Why would you even crush on me in the first place?"

Oh. 

"You're right," you tightly gripped the cloth, forcing a smile, "why would I."

Even though you reluctantly admitted it, it hurt you and scratched at your ego. You were now more than grateful to have never openly communicated your feelings. As an adult, you could handle it, but you know exactly that this reaction would have devastated your childhood self. You were not accustomed to this insensitivity from Neteyam, considering he always maintained a noble and respectable demeanor. This showed you even more how repulsive the idea of having you by his side was to him.

"Also, I'm sorry," you turned around in a swing, your voice filled with sadness, disappointment, and above all, anger—anger at him for acting like a skxawng and anger at yourself for being a skxawng by confiding in him, "that the thought of me being attracted to you disgusts you so much. It won't happen again, rest your mind."  

He seemed lost for words, blinking once, twice, and opening his mouth only to close it again, processing your words. Part of you yearned for him to say something, to prove you wrong, but nothing came. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, altering between your eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air. 

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. You prepared to turn away, ready to retreat from the turmoil of the moment. But just as you began to pivot, a sudden, gentle grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks. It was Neteyam, his touch both unexpected and tender.

In that instant, conflicting emotions surged within you, caught between the instinct to push him away and the captivating gaze that held your attention. Without uttering a single word, he drew you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace that left you completely defenseless, your body momentarily frozen in surprise against his bare skin.

Your initial response was to resist, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of confusion. Yet, as his arms enveloped you, a scent as enchanting as the forest's vibrant essence and the serenity of sacred woods wafted into your consciousness. It was a harmonious blend that stirred your senses, mingling the fragrant allure of nature with the grounding whispers of sandalwood.

Inhaling deeply, the captivating aroma cast a spell upon you, dissolving the remnants of anger and frustration that had once consumed your thoughts like a distant memory as he held you firmly in his strong arms, the warmth of his body seeping into your very core.

In this suspended moment, time appeared to lose its grip as the only audible sounds were the rhythm of your synchronized breaths and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

"I'm sorry too," you heard him whisper in your hair as he pulled away from you and left the tent, leaving you confused.

It was in that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the soft whispers of the forest outside the tent, that you realized the painful truth: nothing would be the same between you and Neteyam because

no matter what you did, you would never be able to make him love you.

And exactly this is the reason of your sleepless nights, which is why, in the middle of your melancholic nostalgia, you decided to take a little walk to the lake nearby to pass the time until daybreak which leads you to the lake. You currently sit on a mossy tree stump above the shimmering water allowing your feet to hang freely just above the glistening surface of the lake, instead of sleeping safe and sound like the rest of the village. The purples, greens, and yellows of the bioluminescent flora and fauna smile at you but you fail to smile back. Your heart heavy with a mix of emotions and your mind full of questions, you try not to think of more memories, each one feeling like a dagger, piercing your already fragile heart. 

You try to understand, yet it's difficult for you.

After so many failed attempts and moments of acceptance in between, he still manages to confuse you with his mixed signals. The moment, when he hugged you, replays relentlessly in your thoughts as if burned in your mind, a vivid recollection that carries the weight of his proximity, the tempting linger of his scent, and the electric touch that ignited a fierce tension within you. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark, an irresistible dance between desire and restraint, etching itself into the deepest recesses of your longing soul.

You groan into your hands. You want to hate him. So much.

Three eclipses have come and gone since then, way too much time to think between that and the part where you made the decision to distance yourself from Neteyam. This time for real. You wake up earlier than everyone else, dedicating yourself to your work, skipping communal meals and shared gatherings entirely. You complete your tasks and retreat back to your home, like a ghost in the clan, yet living unscathed within your own space, seeking solace in the sanctuary of solitude.

Almost every hour, you find yourself battling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you long to see him, to be in his presence, and to feel that familiar connection. But on the other hand, you remember his last words and the way he looked at you when he learned about your past feelings. Distance will be best for the both of you. The ache in your heart hasn't subsided, but you know the step is necessary for your own well-being, it's a shield you've built to preserve what little strength remains within you.

Yesterday, your changed behavior was noticed by Tsahik, so she confronted you directly, but she neither questioned you nor expected any form of explanation. Her words still echo in your mind, partly because forgetting the moment will be difficult with the way she looked at you with her kind eyes, as if understanding the depths of your heartache.

"My child," she laid her hand gently on your shoulder, her voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "Sometimes the tides do not turn in the way we hope but that does not diminish the beauty of the love within your heart. Always remember that Eywa has woven the threads of affection and devotion. Thus, have trust that the stars will align one day, for love, in all its form, is a gift to cherish."

The words resonate deep within your soul, as you sit by the tranquil water, the soft glow of the plants casting an ethereal light around you, a gentle breeze rustles through the verdant foliage. In these moments of isolation, you reflect on the times you've spent with Neteyam, the moments that sparked the flame of attraction within you. You question whether those were genuine or merely figments of your imagination, the doubts swirling in your mind, clouding your judgment and feeding your insecurities. 

The stars above seem to mirror the twinkle in your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled desire for you can't comprehend why your heart continues to long for him despite your mind trying to move on. Your thoughts are deep in contemplation when—

"Can we talk?" The voice startles you, and you flinch sharply, almost letting out a scream. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, the fright taking hold of you. Quickly, you turn around, only to see that out of everyone, Neteyam approaches you, his figure blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a crooked smile forms on his lips.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression, unsure of what to expect from this encounter. His presence catches you off guard, causing your heart to skip another beat. The sight of him stirs a mix of emotions within you—longing, uncertainty, fear, but also a flicker of hope.

"You didn't," you lie, your voice tinged with coldness.

He nods his head towards the space beside you, "May I?" 

Neteyam's eyes hold a certain earnestness, a silent plea for understanding. You just shrug your shoulders, and he interprets it as a yes. He takes a seat beside you, his movements graceful and measured, his tail gently swaying in the air, your shoulders and thighs nearly touching. 

The silence between you is tense, charged with unspoken words and residual feelings. You let your feet dangle above the water. As you wiggle your toes, you feel a gentle coolness from the air mingling with the refreshing touch of the water below.

He clears his voice, "I've noticed your absence these past few days."

"Oh?" Your ears perk up with curiosity, surprised that he has noticed, "I was busy."

"You were missing from the meal servings as well," he notes, his words carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," you reply, sounding detached.

You aren't sure if you have misheard, but it seems like Neteyam has whispered softly to himself, "Me neither," although it can also be your mind playing tricks on you.

"You see, I, uh..." he pauses, seemingly struggling to find the right words which is so unusual for him, "Can I speak openly with you?"

"Don't you always?" Your voice still laced with a hint of coldness.

"Indeed," you noticed from the corner of your eye a brief tension in his hands that gradually relaxes, "I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you to feel obligated to skip communal gatherings because of me." 

You can't help but scoff at that, however, he remains undeterred by your reaction.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me — I will keep my distance if that is what you want, but, please, don't avoid the clan in an attempt to avoid me. Don't isolate yourself."

"Funny," you say bitterly, your gaze still on the water, "that you think you have that much power over me."

"That's not what I wanted to say, it's—"

"It's fine, Neteyam," you interrupt him, turning your head to him, your jaw clenched, "I get it. If the future Olo'eyktan says so, I'll comply. See you at the morning meal."

You attempt to get up, but he gently grasps your wrist, halting your movement.

"I can sense that something has changed between us, and it weighs heavily on my heart," his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"Things change," you respond as he loosens his grip, but you refrain from attempting to get up again, waiting for the conversation to end, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he shifts, causing your thighs to briefly brush against each other, "I've had time to reflect on our last conversation."

"Actually, let's not—" you try to interrupt him, but this time he doesn't let your words stop him.

"Let me say this one thing and after that you don't have to talk to me again."

You meet his gaze, which is filled with honesty and a touch of guilt. You nod and look at him, noticing how he rubs his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath.

"I was caught off guard," he admits, his voice softer now, "When we talked, I mean; and when I learned that you used to feel an affection for me — I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for the way I reacted and for the pain I may have caused you."

You remain silent for a few seconds remembering the unpleasant conversation from last time, before you speak, "We don't have to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" You notice the tension in his muscles. "You see," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't understand why you would crush on me."

"You made that very clear," you remark.

"I regret my poor choice of words, and for any offense it may have caused. I immediately noticed that my words had an impact on you, but I was too overwhelmed to correct myself in the moment," he admits, a hint of regret in his voice, "Please know that the idea of you being attracted to me never has and never will disgust me," his eyes lock with yours as his voice gets quieter when he adds, "It scares me."

Upon hearing that, your features soften slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing your face, and the question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, "Why?"

Now he's the one shrugging, "Everyone has their own doubts and fears."

You're not satisfied with that response, and you want him to open up to you for which you are willing to meet him halfway. So you begin an attempt to make him elaborate on his statement, "I'm scared of many things." you watch him intently as you speak, "Accidentally plucking poisonous plants instead of the usual herbs, falling down the hallelujah mountains, being eaten alive by nantangs." And most of all, rejection. "I can't help but wonder what fears could reside within a mighty warrior like yourself."

His mouth twitches slightly upwards when you say that, but is quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "The possibility of someone seeing through my façade," Neteyam admits sighing, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and self-reflection, "Of someone truly knowing me," he holds your gaze, a certain vulnerability in them, "That terrifies me."

You are left speechless, completely caught off guard by his answer.

"But," you stammer, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, "you're Neteyam, you're... perfect in everything you do. I never considered the possibility that you might have these thoughts."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, definitely not, I am far off from being perfect. That's why I couldn't understand why you would have feelings for me," he confesses, vulnerability shining in his gaze. "Because I never saw myself the way you did. But maybe, just maybe, this is why I've been blind to the possibility of something more between us."

"If you're only here to make me feel better about myself..." you start, your voice trailing off.

"No," he groans in frustration. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

He chuckles at your reaction, "I get nervous when you look at me that way."

"What do you mean?" You are the one getting nervous because of his statement for he doesn't look nervous at all, on the contrary, he looks very relaxed and almost overconfident. 

"Yeah, can't you tell my hands are all sweaty?" he lets you know with a smirk while he studies your face.

"Neteyam," you blink in confusion, "Are you okay?"

"You're not listening," he sighs, his smile dropping slightly.

"Then talk openly," you urge impatiently.

He takes a deep breath and looks you directly in the eyes. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just a friend."

Your features falter and your eyes widen, as the realization dawns upon you that your feelings have not been unrequited after all. "No."

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispers euphorically, confirming your thoughts.

"No, Neteyam, not now," you shake your head quickly, your mind filled with way too many thoughts and too much confusion. Instantly, you stand up as if stung by an insect, trying to maintain your composure.

"It didn't start now, it was always there," he admits, standing up as well, now towering over you and studying your face and your reaction again. "But I fear that I've missed my chance. And now, it seems like it's too late."

Ignoring his words entirely, you fixate your serious gaze on him, "You can't do this to me."

"What?" he blinks, seeming to comprehend your words, "Why?" his gaze momentarily shifts from one eye to the other with a swift glance, reflecting his confusion.

"Because all my life, I did everything to try to make you notice me. I went beyond my comfort zone, I did everything I could. But from you," You look at him, gesturing towards his entire figure as if the reason were obvious, "there was nothing. Not one single acknowledgment from you. I accepted it. I moved on. I made peace with the thought of just knowing you and supporting what is good for you," You find yourself almost breathless, your words tumbling out rapidly, but each one carries sincere meaning. "You can't come now, years later, and pretend that you have a crush on me. I can't go through that again."

He takes a step forward, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I... I'm not pretending to—"

"And I'm so tired," you interrupt him, your voice faltering, "Now that I've finally let go of you, you can't say things like this."

"Let go?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "Of me?"

"Yes, Neteyam," you persist firmly. "Let go of you. I don't want you anymore."

The night air feels heavy with unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires as the silence underlines the shared acknowledgment of the chasm that has opened between you. Neteyam's expression shifts from disappointment to determination, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "How do I make you love me, then?"

It feels ironic that he's asking you that question, considering you used to be the one who always wondered how you could make him love you whenever you saw him. You groan in frustration, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. 

"I worked so hard to accept things as they are. That is not fair, Neteyam." A mix of sadness and anger can be heard in your voice.

"Please listen," he pleads, reaching out to touch your arm. You close your eyes, turning your head away. "I've been blind to your feelings, consumed by my own worries and obligations, and I didn't see what was right in front of me, hurting you in the process. I'm sorry I caused you pain. If I had known sooner…"

"What then?" you interrupt, your voice filled with bitterness. "Do you think everything would magically change, and we'd be deeply in love with a family of our own by now?"

Neteyam pauses for a moment, processing your words, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. "Yes, that's a possibility."

You groan in exasperation and attempt to push him away, your frustration boiling over. "No, Neteyam. I can't keep living in this cycle of uncertainty." 

As you push him away from you, your heart heavy, you walk away with determined steps, wanting to bring as much distance between him and you as possible.

"I love you!" he shouts after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks and turn around in utter shock. "I love you. And if that's not enough, then so be it. But I would rather be damned than let you go now, heading who knows where in the middle of the night. If you don't want me, I won't approach you, I won't come near. But don't run away from me."

Desperation visible in his voice, his words reach deep into your heart; the intensity echoing in the air, leaving a profound impact on both of you.

"I've been waiting for your love for far too long," you respond bitterly.

Taking cautious steps in your direction, trying to close the physical and emotional distance between you, he asks, "Why waste more time?" It feels as if an invisible force draws you together, intertwining your fates in this pivotal moment but you remain stubborn, too exhausted and clouded from the painful burn in your heart.

"I don't want you," you declare, the words slipping out uncertainly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

"Then look me in the eyes when you say those words," he challenges, his voice stern, gaze unwavering.

"I don't want you," you repeat, louder this time, trying to emphasize your resolve. However, instead of looking into his eyes, your gaze fixates on his face, tracing the patterns of his glowing freckles that your mind has memorized long ago.

The moonlight bathes the scene in a gentle gleam, and you both stare at each other in complete silence, the space between you filled with suffocating tension.

A knowing smile suddenly forms on his lips. "I don't believe you."

"I don't want you, Neteyam!" you exclaim, raising your voice even more, repeating the words over and over, in a desperate attempt to convince him, "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you!"

He studies you intently for another moment, his eyes filled with hope.

"Your tail gives you away," he says triumphantly, his smile growing. And that's when you finally let go of your suppressed emotions. Your lower lip begins to tremble, and before you know it, you find yourself in his warm embrace, his strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"I want you," you confessed against his chest, your voice barely audible and filled with so much vulnerability, "After everything, I still want you." 

"Shh, you have me," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You sob, the weight of your emotions finally breaking free, and he tenderly pats your head, his fingers gliding through your hair. His touch brings a sense of calmness to your racing heart and gently dries your tears.

"I'll make up for all the time lost, I promise," his voice reaches your ear, soft and full of sincerity.

His words continue to soothe you, and at one point, he hums a faint melody that resonates deep within you, gradually bringing an end to your sobs.

"Do you recall the day you asked about my plans after my Dream Hunt, and I hesitated to provide an answer?" He asks after you calm down, his voice carrying an infinite sense of solace.

Your arms still around him, you nod against his chest, every word of that conversation etched into your mind.

"That day," he continues, "I have sworn to myself to admire your eternal beauty from afar, to cherish your body, mind, and soul until the end of my days," he whispers softly in your hair, "with the hope that one day I will hold you close and claim you as my very own."

You take a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your teary eyes meeting his with awe.

"I... I never imagined you felt this way," you whisper, your voice hoarse and fragile from your sobs. "To think that you've carried these feelings for me all this time, it's... I don't know what to say."

"Interesting," he comments, eyes with a gleam, lips playful, "You were just as oblivious to my feelings as I was to yours, so I guess that makes us even." A mischievous bunny-like smile plays across his face, transforming him into the youthful version of himself that you have fallen deeply in love with, no longer the mighty warrior following in the footsteps of the great Toruk Makto, but the young man who has captured your heart long ago.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the intensity of your own emotions. With a shaky breath, you reach to your waist, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

In the warmth of his arms, you find solace for your burning heart. His arms hold you tightly, offering a sense of intimate security that you've always wished for. But then, something shifts. 

The intensity of your emotions begins to wane, and as you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, you see his gaze fixed upon you with unwavering love, trying to read you as he cups your face with his large hands. His thumb gently brushes away a lingering tear on your cheek, his touch delicate against your skin. A soft, affectionate smile graces his lips as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the place where your tear was mere seconds ago. The sweetness of the gesture stirs your heart, a silent affirmation of his loving nature. He continues to kiss away your tears, each touch a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

A powerful desire burns between you then, as his soft lips linger near yours. His eyes meet yours again, seeking permission, and you respond with a silent nod. Right then and there, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the connection you share. With a surge of passion, his lips meet yours in a fervent kiss, the longing coming to an end, hearts intertwined. 

The tender touch of his lips against yours feels like an electric jolt that sends shivers down your spine. You both pull back slowly from the passionate kiss, breathless yet connected. Your eyes meet, gazing into each other with a depth of love that words can never describe.

His eyes hold unwavering sincerity as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "You've captured my heart in ways I can't fully express," he confesses, his voice filled with affection. "And if you'll allow me, I want to show you every day how deeply I love you."

A deep blue blush tints your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to respond. He doesn't seem to mind as a soft smile spreads across his face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, adoring the tranquil moment between two souls.

Enjoying each other's presence and your newfound attraction and happiness, you spend the rest of the night hand in hand wandering around mindlessly, exchanging loving gazes, talking about everything and sweet nothing's at once like two fools in love.

"Do you remember that day?" You hear him ask cheerfully as his free hand wanders to the songcord attached to his loincloth. You follow his movement and your eyes widen as you recognize the dried petals, intricately woven into one of the beads. "It was so unconventional, going against tradition. Who has ever seen a girl giving a flower to a boy? No one. But you didn't care. You were true to yourself, and you gifted me your favorite flower, and it meant so much more than just a little gesture."

Taking aback by his words and the bittersweet memory you can't help but smile widely as you inspect his songcord but confusion grazes your face at the same time.

"Wait—What do you mean? Lo'ak told me it's your favorite flower."

"No, he told me it's your favorite."

"Well, it became my favorite after I learned that it's yours."

A boisterous laugh escapes him as he throws his head back, his chest almost vibrating, and it is so contagious that you can't help but join in, the air filled with heartfelt laughter.

"It's gonna cause quite a scandal, but Lo'ak definitely deserves a good punch when he wakes up." You laughed, knowing that he meant that half-heartedly.

He delicately cradles your hand back in his, your fingers intertwining as he brings them up, his lips softly brushing against your knuckles in a loving kiss. The touch sends a warmth through your body. 

"Speaking of scandals," you say sheepishly as you reluctantly let go of his hand, "maybe it's better not to enter our village hand in hand just yet?"

He chuckles at your suggestion.

"Maybe," he agrees, his eyes filled with adoration, his face leaning slightly forward, "Can I have one last kiss before that?"

You look at him challengingly, he mirrors your expression, a playful glint in his eyes, coming closer to your face. 

Your lips almost touching for the second time this night, you whisper, "Only if you catch me." 

With that, you run off, your heart blooming with excitement, and his laughter follows you through the enchanting forest as the sun rises, casting its warm rays across the sky, and you know that the future holds nothing but love for the both of you.

for anyone asking, neteyam does in fact catch you and gets his kiss(es) <3 thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging 🤍 btw, what is your love language? 💕

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x f!reader #adult neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam sully imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water imagine #lana's writing #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fanfic #neteyam angst #neteyam fluff #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #avatar twow

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | teaser

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 465 for the teaser, overall wordcount tbd ➥ overall warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap (i hc reader to be late 20s but i tried to leave it vague enough), cowgirl position, biting, hair pulling, choking, squirting, teasing, pining, lipstick kink, breast/nipple play, masturbation (m), porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, coop's pov to start - rest of the fic will be in reader's, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | "We really s-shouldn't - oh fuck - be doing this." ➥ notes | here's a teaser for the fic i took a poll on, some people wanted more info 😊 coop is a big dick dilf fite me. feedback is always appreciated ❤️ lmk if you want to be tagged feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

Ugliest thing in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say.

It's not like being a Marine with a gun in hand, being told where to point and shoot, or an actor reading off a script. There's no guidebook, no crash course. These people aren't nameless threats coasts away or co-workers following a cue.

In fact, his 'enemies' aren't enemies at all.

They have names: Barb, so smart it hurts, and sweet little Janey, his very own North star. Sometimes looking at them rips open a hole in his chest that'll never close, edges jagged and sore. The phantoms of family, of happier times, found in the glint of a smile or a peal of laughter.

See, war's something he understands. Something he's good at.

But these domestic battlefields where he's gotta look his ex-wife in the face, and struggle to meet his daughter's eye? Barter this weekend and that holiday? To pay for the privilege of his child's presence (he does, he will, she's worth every goddamn cent he's ever made)?

To look down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman he loves staring back; he doesn't, can't, comprehend that. Because once upon a time, he was happy (with her) and life was sweeter than pie.

Now he's nothing but a washed up actor who struggles to land a call back let alone make his monthly alimonies. His marriage has failed, his reputation is in shambles, and his bank account is dryer than the Mojave.

Barb gets the house. He gets the dog.

And caught in the middle of it all is his little girl; the only thing he’s got left worth while. He wants to protect her, provide for her the way she deserves — only he seems to fall short every goddamn time.

The mistakes and missteps keep stacking up against him; such is his new life in all its raw, unglamorous glory.

Look how far the mighty fall.

Lucky for him — the first bright thing that's come his way in a long, long while — a sweet, young woman moves into the apartment next door. Of course, it isn't long before Janey takes a shine, always so friendly.

Thankfully, you're just as good with her.

It only makes sense you'd watch her when a gig runs late. Rustle up some grub and put her to bed whenever he slinks in through the door, stripped to the bone.

And if he takes himself in hand late at night, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress? Imagines the wide stretch of your lush mouth as you peer up at him from between his thighs when he cums hard?

Well, what you don't know won't hurt you.

After all, he promises to keep his hands to himself.

TBC

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout #fallout fanfic

[emissaire]

weak - jake x reader x neytiri

꒰꒰. WARNINGS/INCLUDES: fem. metkayina! reader, light angst, fluff ig, mutual pining, (assumed) unrequited feelings, hints of infidelity but not really lol, complicated relationships, idk but tension xD (lmk if i missed anything!!)

꒰꒰. SYNOPSIS: jake is weak when it comes to pretty girls. you're a pretty girl and neytiri thinks so too.

Jake Sully is many things: a husband, a father, a leader, a warrior— but most of all, he's a man. He's still just a man weak to pretty girls with pretty eyes and pretty smiles. Just a man who is so very weak when it comes to you. Sometimes, no matter how self-deprecating his thoughts are, shame fills his mind and corrodes his heart when the people proudly call him Toruk Makto, when his wife, his beautiful, beautiful Neytiri, looks at him like he decorated the sky with stars to shine upon the people. He's weak and he knows he doesn't deserve all of it.

The guilt always eats at him, of course it does. He's supposed to be a respectable man, a loyal husband, a good father to guide his children on the path towards Eywa's heart, but when it comes to you, he forgets who he is supposed to be. He loses all inhibitions when you flash him that mesmerizing smile, looking at him like he's on top of everything. 

Yet he can't find it in himself to act upon his urges, at least fully, not when Neytiri's smile reflects your own: beautiful and so full of hope for what may come in the future. It doesn't help that you and Neytiri have become good friends after months of them seeking uturu within the Metkayina clan. You were among the first few people who accepted them wholeheartedly, the Olo'eyktan's younger sister who is as gentle as the waves in the ocean under a calm, soothing breeze.

"Staring off into the distance again, I see." Your voice cuts through the jumbled thoughts in his head, occupying the empty space next to him on the sand like you had occupied his mind.

"Would you rather have me stare at you instead?" Jake tilts his head to the side, a playful smirk sitting upon his lush lips, something he does unconsciously out of habit. Something you've noticed from the many times you've admired him from afar.

You don't say anything, flustered from his straightforward response, but you don't get to bask in the flirty nature of his words when Neytiri's figure comes into view, her long legs striding across the sandy beach with confidence and the allure only she has.

"Neytiri!" You giggle excitedly, moving to sit on your haunches to welcome the beauty in yours and Jake's lonely company of two.

Neytiri returns your eagerness by chuckling, deciding to sit in front of you and her husband. Her hand tucks a stray hair behind your ear before addressing the bright aura illuminating your face. "You seem awfully happy today, syulang."

"Just in a really good mood! Are the kids settling in well?" You ask the couple, eyes not knowing where to look— who to look at. Their demanding presence and piercing gazes make it hard to sit completely still under their watchful eyes. It's like they're looking at you through your skin… like they know what's currently running on your mind… like they know something you don't.

"They're doing great. I just hope the boys would run less into trouble." Jake clicks his tongue to show his disapproval but the way he speaks of them sounds so fatherly, it makes you laugh.

"They take after you, Ma'Jake." Neytiri comments, playfully kicking her husband's leg that somehow made its way in between her crossed legs, ending up in a chaste tangle of limbs.

There's a slight tingle within your belly, a little ache in your chest when you look at them— so domestic and close and in love. And the more you stare, the more the selfish part of you wishes you were with them both, a presence in between them to share their love with. Not wanting to be caught, you quickly avert your eyes somewhere, faraway into the ocean sky.

"I think it's because of Ao'nung constantly riling them up, but I swear, he's a good kid. Sometimes he just can't help but be a skxawng," you smile at them apologetically before continuing, "He's so much like my brother before he became Olo'eyktan."

Neytiri quickly shakes her head, not wanting you to feel guilty for something as shallow as children squabble. Her gentle palm runs along your arm before taking hold of your hand, the feeling so foreign but not unwelcome— something you've always longed for. It makes your heart flutter and for warmth to gush through your lovesick system. The light squeeze you give Neytiri's hand makes her smile at you almost adoringly, and you say almost because how could you assume something like that especially in the presence of her mate? It's mere wishful thinking that she'd return your pining.

Only if you knew how her heart thrums against her ribcage as if it wanted to be laid out and present itself to you. Neytiri had to force herself to let go of your hand because if she didn't, she would forget why you can only be admired from afar. It feels so wrong but so good to indulge in her yearning thoughts of you, let you see glimpses of her deepest feelings through the cracks of her facade.

To her, it doesn't matter if you're aware. As long as she gets to see you, really see you like how she does Jake, it's enough to satiate the constant need of being with you.

And as the water rise and fall along the shore, the sullied thoughts swarming your heads are washed away deep deep into the endless chasm of blue.

#livre: daisy #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #jake x reader x neytiri #neytiri sully x reader #atwow angst #jake sully angst #neytiri angst #jake sully fluff #neytiri fluff

[loveshotzz]

Constellations

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: under the stars, you just want steve to kiss you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ even though there’s no smut. sorry kiddos. just some first kiss fluff inspired by season 3 steve who’s kinda lost his confidence.

authors note: another blurb outta the pile! I’m a sucker for late nights at Lovers Lake with Steve 💗. for @superblysubpar cause I know when I came up with this blurb months ago she was so excited. sorry it took me so long!

The sky was clear above the lake, the stars glimmering extra bright against the water illuminating patches of the trees surrounding you. The reflection hits the green and brown specks that lay nestled inside Steve’s eyes in a battle to steal your attention. You try not to meet his gaze as you search for the constellation he promised to show you when he threw rocks on your bedroom window, careful not to wake your roommate.

He was dressed more casual than your first date a few days ago. A date that didn’t end with the kiss you desperately hoped you’d get at the end of an evening filled with warm palms that covered your lower back whenever he’d get the chance, or stolen glances to the pink gloss that covered your lips just for him. Instead, an awkward hug and red cheeks is what you got as he tripped over his own feet from your doorstep to his car.

The gray shorts he wears stop just above his knees, the hair covering his legs matching the patch that’s always peeking out from the tops of his shirts. His sweater was the same color as the car that took you here, tight around his broad shoulders, and snug in all the spots you wanted to explore with your fingers. His honey colored hair was messier than you’d seen before, like he’d just woken up and had to see you, disguising it as late night stargazing by the lake. The thought of how soft it must feel makes your hands twitch at your sides.

Your shoulders are tucked into his jacket that he always keeps in the back seat of his BMW. It was the end of summer — August bleeding into September. The late nights starting to get that little bit chillier, the days a little bit shorter. The faded spice of his cologne swirls around your senses still embedded deep into the fabric from last year. The blanket he’d laid out on the lush grass that still hadn’t disappeared is soft under your hands that keep you propped up at an angle, your legs extend in front of you, crossed at your ankles and the toes of your sneakers bump into his.

The space he leaves between you is just enough to feel the heat of his body radiate off his bronzed skin, freckled and kissed by the sun, his big hands spread out palm down like a mirror with yours. The tips of his fingers are quiet, ghosting against the side of your hand. Leaning his head back to follow your line of sight, the smell of his shampoo reminds you of the woods around you when the wind catches it. He’s so close, but you want him closer.

It only takes a few minutes before you feel his eyes are on you again and you can’t stop the twist of your lips this time.

“Where are these constellations? Or you just wanna look at me?” Your voice is soft, the faint teasing edge behind it isn’t enough to cover up how he’s making you shy when your eyes finally connect with his.

He clears his throat, cheeks blooming and Adam’s apple bobbing under your grin.

“Shit - yeah, sorry. Just like seeing you in my jacket s’all.” Your stomach flutters at his words, butterflies wreaking havoc when he finally crosses the threshold, a big hand enveloping yours. He brings his attention back to the sky, fingers curling purposefully.

You lean in closer under the guise of getting a better look as he starts to trace along the path of a collection of twinkling stars.

“We’ve got Orion’s Belt right over here.” His shoulder brushes against yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles.

Water laps against the shoreline and the distant coo of an owl drowns out the fading chirp of crickets while he gives you a tour of the night sky. His voice calms your nerves, talking low enough just for you to hear while your bodies inch closer like magnets until there’s no space left, fingers daring to intertwine.

“And this…” he breathes and you know he’s not looking at the stars anymore, spearmint and a little bit of the joint you both shared hitting your nose “Is the big dipper.”

Your eyes dare to leave the wide expanse above you only to confirm your suspicions. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he gets caught for the second time tonight, but this time he doesn’t move to look away. You can see the stubble lining the sharp line of his jaw from this close, a collection of moles you think you could trace into the same patterns he just showed you coming into view. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips when his eyes shift down to yours and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s gonna do it.

“Are you gonna kiss me Steve?” Your impatience comes out in just above a whisper.

There’s a new air of confidence about him now, shifting so he can lean against his elbow, the new position has him looking up at you. The moon shimmers, wrapping around you punching the air out of his lungs. You’re beautiful. He’s gentle when he cups the side of your face, your skin heating up under the softness of his palm. His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone before moving to the silk of your bottom lip, tugging it down gently, watching it pop back into place.

“Is that what you want, baby?” His eyes darken when he sees the pinch of your brows. A pout.

The nickname makes your heart soar and your chest tighten, only letting you offer a nod and the sweetest “please.” It fills the empty spaces in the air around you, an electricity begging to explode around it.

His hold finds its way to the back of your neck, long fingers curving just below your hairline before pulling you down without a fight to meet him. Nudging his nose against yours, you can feel the brush of his lips from this close.

“I should’ve done this the other night.” His breath mingles with yours, teasing you in a way that you like. “You forgive me?”

You match his smile despite trying to fight it and he takes that as his answer, finally putting you out of your misery with the kiss you’ve been waiting for.

He takes it slow at first, his eyes fluttering shut while his hand finds your jaw. He asks you to open up for him gripping your chin while his tongue licks at your top lip. Granting him the kind of access you’d never deny him, a groan vibrates deep from his chest when you meet him in the middle to deepen it.

Your fingers find their way into his hair when he lays back on the blanket taking you with him, and it’s even softer than you imagined. Of course it is. You grab at roots on the nape of his neck when he nips at your bottom lip already addicted to the sound he gets from it.

The kisses get sloppy, all the tension coming to a head when he tugs at your hips. Your leg slots between his so the muscle of his thigh presses to the most sensitive part of you, and it takes everything not to rock against him. His hand moves to squeeze at the curve of your waist, teeth scraping together when you both start to get needy. More, more, more.

A high pitch whistle from the other side of the lake breaks you two apart with a jump, the culprits hidden by distance and darkness. A loud splash of water tells you they are none the wiser to the company they keep. A late night rendezvous like you and Steve.

He huffs out a low chuckle beneath you, with that signature hand running through his hair when his head hits the ground with a low thump. Keeping a hold on your hip to make sure you don’t go anywhere, his eyes are brighter than before when he looks at you with flushed cheeks and that smile that started your crush all those years ago.

“Took you long enough.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

[casualavocados]

Once a garden world nourished by the Bright Star artifact, [Mustafar's] orbit was shifted when Lady Corvax unleashed the energies of the Bright Star in an attempt to return her husband to life. The resulting gravimetric duel between the gas giants Jestefad and Lefrani over Mustafar heated the planet's core, transforming the lush world into an imbalanced volcanic hellscape. […] Legends of Corvax's search for immortality brought the ancient Sith to Mustafar, seeking the same secrets of eternal life. There, they built a temple over a locus in the dark side of the Force, above the buried ruins of Corvax Fortress. [source]

CONTENT CREATOR SECRET SANTA 2023: The History of Mustafar vs The Fall of Anakin Skywalker for @eathotchipandcry

#swedit #starwarsedit #star wars #prequels #anakin skywalker #darth vader #padme amidala #anakinskywalkeredit #darthvaderedit #prequelsedit #ccss2023 #userzhr #usernik #usersansa #userpegs #userjjessi #tuserhanna #*cajedit #*gif #flashing gif #i hope you like this!!! i had a lot of fun with the idea #my sister actually helped me brainstorm lore to work with since that's what you said you liked #and once i fixated on this parallel that was it i had to do it #i hope it looks good too aaah

[loveburrowx]

Massage

Request - Y/N gives Joe a massage but things take a turn

Warnings - Smut (intercourse)

A/N - I hope u like this story! Enjoy!

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, amber glow over the city, Y/N carefully unfurled her yoga mat on the lush, emerald lawn of her suburban backyard. The scent of freshly cut grass and sweet, jasmine flowers filled the air, carrying with it the promise of a balmy summer evening. With her yoga class long behind her, she found herself craving a moment of solace, a chance to unwind and escape from the stress of her hectic life as a personal assistant to the famous football quarterback, Joe. Little did she know, however, that fate had other plans for her this evening.

As she settled into her favorite downward-facing dog pose, she felt a familiar presence behind her, the warmth of another body pressing against hers. Startled, she whipped around, her heart racing, only to find Joe standing there, hands in his pockets, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. "I just wanted to apologize for being such a jerk today. I've been under a lot of pressure lately, and I took it out on you."

Y/N let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "It's okay, Joe," she said, offering him a small smile. "I understand." She paused, considering his apology. "But you know, maybe you should try something different tonight." His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "How about I give you a massage?" she suggested. "It might help you relax."

Joe's eyes lit up at the offer, and he nodded gratefully. Without another word, Y/N led him over to her yoga mat, where she had already set up a portable massage table. As she unfurled a warm, scented towel and slipped it around his shoulders, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm wash over her. This was the first time they'd been alone together since the game, and she found herself enjoying the simple intimacy of the moment.

Her fingers danced over Joe's tense muscles, kneading and coaxing them to release their tension. As she worked, he let out soft moans of pleasure, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the knowledge that she was making him feel better. Soon, the lines of strain and worry on his face began to fade, replaced by a look of pure bliss. It was then that she realized how much she truly cared for him, and with that realization came a powerful desire to express her feelings in a more intimate way.

Without thinking twice, she leaned forward and gently kissed Joe on the lips. His reaction was instantaneous; his hands found their way into her hair, tangling themselves in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his mouth against hers sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel herself growing increasingly aroused. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingertips.

As their kiss broke, they both gasped for air, their eyes locked on each other's. There was an undeniable passion burning bright in those depths, and neither of them could deny the attraction that had been building between them for far too long. Without another word, Y/N rose to her feet, taking Joe's hand in hers and leading him over to the cozy swing they had in the corner of the yard. There, beneath the stars and the glow of a nearby lantern, they made love with a desperate urgency that spoke of months, if not years, of unspoken longing.

As their bodies moved in unison, Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Joe inside her, the smell of him, the taste of his kiss. She reveled in the knowledge that, for this brief moment, they were together, and that nothing else in the world mattered. It was as if they were the only two people in existence, and their love was the only thing that truly mattered. As their passion reached its peak, and they cried out in ecstasy, the weight of the world seemed to lift from their shoulders, if only for a little while.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, they lay curled up together on the swing, hands entwined, breathing heavily. Neither of them spoke for a long time, content to simply bask in the glow of their shared intimacy. Finally, Y/N turned her head to look at Joe, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the leaves in the trees above them. And for the first time, she truly meant it.

Joe smiled down at her, his eyes filled with the same emotion. "I love you too," he said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I've loved you for so long, and I'm so glad we finally... I don't know, found our way to this moment." He paused, searching for the right words. "I want to be with you, Y/N. I want us to be together, no matter what."

She nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. "Me too," she said softly. "I know it won't be easy, with everything going on, but I want us to try. I want us to make it work." They lapsed into silence again, lost in their thoughts and the warmth of each other's bodies.

As the night wore on, they talked, their voices low and intimate. They discussed their fears, their dreams, their hopes for the future. They talked about the game, and the pressure they both felt to perform at such a high level. They talked about their families, their friends, and the people who had shaped them into the individuals they were today. And with each passing moment, their connection grew stronger, their love deeper.

Eventually, they climbed into bed, still intertwined, and fell into a deep, contented sleep. It was the first time in months that either of them had felt truly at peace. The next day, they faced the world together, their newfound bond serving as a source of strength and resilience in the face of adversity. They knew that their relationship wouldn't be easy, but they also knew that they were stronger together than they ever could be apart. And so, they vowed to make it work, no matter what challenges life threw their way.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #nfl #nfl football #nfl imagine #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #explore #like

[romanarose]

Nice Job!

Steven Grant x fem!reader

Join my tag list!

Moon Knight masterlist

Summary: Steven had a praise kink

Warnings: Oral (fem receiving), praise kink, being a silly goose

I mention "the kids" super duper vaguely as a reason to have stickers in a purse. In my head reader is a teacher bc i am XD but this can mean biological kids, nieces or nephews, little cousins, etc whatever you want!

quick smut below the cut

*********

"Feel so fucking good, Steven, my good boy, my Steven" You praise your boyfriend as you spready out for him on the couch, Steven worshiping at your shrine, paying his respects with the sacrifice of his own stimulation for the sake of your pleasure. He could jerk himself off if he wanted to, but he seemed unwilling to remove his fingers from your cunt and clit. Steven was a busy man.

"Steven, need you closer Steven, almost-oh fuck- almost there baby" You tug on his curls, drawing him impossibly closer into you, so much so you were certain he was going to suffocate between your pussy lips, but it didn't matter, not to him. It's how he'd want to go. When you cum you're bucking your cunt against him, fucking yourself on his early awaiting face. As he licked up every drop of your cum, you here him whining, a gentle whimper from his throat as he ate your though your orgasm.

"Good boy, such a good boy, my Steven, oooooh"

Letting go of his hair, you rest back on the couch, panting, only to find he's still licking between your folds, practically humping your leg, so desperate to please. You gentle nudge him back.

"Rest, baby, you did perfect, you deserve to rest."

With a soft smile, Steven rested his head on your thigh, still knelt between your legs, smiling up adoringly at you.

"You sound so beautiful when you cum, love"

You smile right back. "So do you, love" you tease his pet name to you, booping his nose,

"How did you know I came?" He asked with a curious grin and a joyful crinkle in his eyes.

"Laughing, you reply. "You always cum in your pants when you eat me out that intensely, pretty boy."

Steven beamed up at you at the praise. "Can't help it that you're this pretty, darling girl."

You pet Steven's hair, combing through the lush curls as he laid his head on you, massaging his scalp when you get an idea. Reaching into your purse, you pulled out the sticker pack you had gotten for the kids. You pick out a particular one, showing Steven the star that says, "Nice job!" and stick it on his forehead.

Looking up at you quizzically, Steven simply informs you. "You're a bit of an odd one, aren't you?"

But all you can do is smile at your precious boyfriend with his cum-soaked face, a bright yellow sticker on top.

**************

this one is for the girlies in the whorefully yours discord specifically @campingwiththecharmings and @whatthefishh who came up with this idea

I hope y’all liked bc I did this and finished Take Your Time today despite being sick

Don’t let this one flop 😂

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls

#steven grant #steven grant x reader fluff #steven grant smut #moon knight smut #steven grant x you #fem reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight fluff #steven grant fluff #soft steven grant #x reader #moon night smut #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #romana writes #romana writes smut

[hollybell51]

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

Navigation

Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue. 

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?” 

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet. 

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?” 

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?” 

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured. 

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day. 

“Can I see that?” 

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?” 

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.” 

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.” 

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?” 

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back. 

“Is (Y/N) with you?” 

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you. 

“Are you on the ground?” 

“Yes.” 

“You need to get out of there.” 

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…” 

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!” 

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face. 

“What?” 

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.” 

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind. 

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?” 

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…” 

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever. 

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out. 

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.” 

“She ok?” 

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.” 

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help. 

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?” 

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin. 

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?” 

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.” 

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing. 

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–” 

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“Ok.” 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam. 

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.” 

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of. 

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.” 

“I’m– fuck, Adam.” 

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.” 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–” 

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you. 

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent. 

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.” 

“Huh?” 

���The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.” 

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later. 

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.” 

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—” 

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?” 

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…” 

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back. 

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway. 

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.” 

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water. 

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. 

“Hm? 

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.” 

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.” 

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing. 

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–” 

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?” 

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?” 

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?” 

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.” 

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you. 

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!” 

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.” 

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen. 

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?” 

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle. 

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer. 

He frowned. “Is that…?” 

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured. 

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself. 

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down. 

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.” 

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt. 

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead. 

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.” 

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner. 

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him. 

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit. 

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.” 

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you. 

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there? 

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this? 

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair. 

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked. 

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic. 

“Hm?” 

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.” 

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat. 

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick. 

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?” 

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand. 

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.” 

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it. 

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his. 

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his. 

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought. 

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.” 

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–” 

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until– 

“Adam, oh, Adam—!” 

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely. 

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. 

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod. 

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?” 

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?” 

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his. 

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?” 

“Ok.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself. 

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had. 

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer. 

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed. 

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up. 

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower. 

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x you #gotg3 #mcu #fanfiction #fanfic #shameless smut #smut #marvel #gotg vol 3

[weird-an]

Of course Prince Harrington is just another brat. Brought up spoiled rotten and without ever touching the dirt and blood the real world outside of palaces and lush gardens has to offer.

"I don't know why my father thinks you have to protect me," he bitches. "And can we call it a fucking day? It's already pretty dark and we'll reach Hawkins tomorrow."

Billy rolls his eyes. As if the Prince is able to fight what lurks behind the trees. He has probably never seen a spider monster or Demodog. Billy has the scars to prove that reality hurts.

It's not his usual work. Escorting royalty.

Billy is a mercenary. A sword you can buy, a tool to use if you've got enough coin. He knows most people hate him or are scared of him, most people think of him as scum except when they need him.

But apparently a lot of the Kingsguard were killed by the Demogorgon. Desperate times, even for rich people, but at least the pay is good.

"C'mon, it's time for dinner," Harrington says again. It's a luxury to have regular meals, but he doesn't know that. For him it's normal.

Camaro neighs as if to agree. What a traitor.

Billy wishes he'd already have enough coin to leave for California, to finally see the ocean again. But no, he's still stuck in Indiana doing whatever contract he can find, after Neil fucked him over and took most of his money.

Camaro stops at a clearing. Billy hears water running nearby. He sighs. If his horse agrees with the Prince, it's probably time to stop.

He slips Camaro half of the carrot, the last piece of food he has on himself. He's getting paid once they arrive in Hawkins. Times are tough, so Camaro and him eat the same shit. Doesn't matter as long as he gets to leave some day.

He starts to make a fire. Doesn't want Harrington to moan about getting cold next.

When the flames begin to shine bright and orange, eating their way through the wood, the darkness of the night is already surrounding them.

Harrington points at the log of wood he's sitting on.

Billy chews on the carrot and stares at the Prince.

"Do you want some cheese?" Harrington asks. He digs through his bag, pulling out different cheeses, a loaf of bread and a few dried meats.

The few noblemen Billy escorted in the past never asked. Never shared. Didn't even talk to him, if it wasn't necessary.

Billy raises a brow. Maybe this is a joke? Like when he was little and Neil showed him his dinner and fed it to the pigs instead to Billy.

"It's r'ly g'd," Harrington says, cheeks already stuffed full. He holds out a piece of bread.

Billy's stomach growls. Fuck it. He takes the bread and sits down next to Harrington. He's wearing expensive fabrics underneath his masterfully crafted coat. Billy's own armor is covered in scratches and dents.

He groans. The bread is delicious. Harrington shares everything with him. The cheese is strong, melting on his tongue. He hasn't realized how hungry he had been.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"I don't know how you do it," Harrington says. "The whole day on horseback. My ass is so sore! What about yours?"

Billy fights back a laugh. The last time his ass hurt was after a visit to Heather's brothel. She knows his preferences and stayed silent, sending her hottest men to his room whenever he's in town.

"You get used to it." It's not really a lie. The riding Billy got used to. The loneliness? Not really. He's glad he's got Camaro. Better a horse as a friend than none.

"A toast to your firm ass then." Harrington grins at him, eyes twinkling. He hands Billy a wineskin.

He's pretty, Billy thinks. Big brown eyes, fluffy hair. He wonders if it feels as soft as it looks. Probably, with the fancy soap he smells like.

"Cheers." He takes a sip from the wine. It's better not to think about it. This is just a job after all.

Harrington's knee bumps against his. He doesn't move away.

When they lay down on the bedrolls, Billy listens to the cackling fire and watches the stars shining bright above him.

"I'm cold," Harrington groans.

Billy knows he shouldn't. No fucking way the Prince is cold. His blanket must be way better material than Billy's.

"Come over then," he hears himself say.

Harrington doesn't hesitate. Suddenly warm arms are around Billy's chest. The Prince's breath ghosts over his ear.

Billy turns his face around. Harrington's lips are right there, soft and hot against his own.

Maybe it's not the worst job he has ever taken.

#come on guys #prince harrington #i mean #they both know their way around a sword #camaro the horse can you see it #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #tw food issues #tw child abuse

[tragedybunny]

A Merry Little Solstice - Astarion x F!Reader - BG3HolidayFluffle23 - Prompt: Chosen Family

So excited to participate in the Challenge, not sure if I'll get to more than one piece but I love this one I did. Thanks to @rachelle-on-the-run for the Beta!

Summary: Even though you and Astarion have been together a few years, this is the first time you'll be celebrating Solstice together, for a very special reason. The two of you are doing your best to make it a warm and wonderful celebration.

“What do you think?” Astarion is fussing over the distribution of small, glass ornaments and candles on the large pine tree taking up most of your parlor. 

“I think it looks wonderful, Star.” You can already see his tendency for the grandiose creeping in, and don’t want him to worry about overdoing it. At least you’d convinced him to close down the bookshop, the two of you ran out of the building next door for a few days while you celebrate. It was a newer venture that you had taken on lately, as you’d settled down in Baldur’s Gate after a few years of adventuring. 

“I suppose, the tree could be a bit bigger, though,” he mumbles, shifting a few of the baubles around. All the effort, and probably a good amount of nerves, making him prickly. 

“It’s plenty big, and Jaheira didn’t have to grow it for us.” The pine had been a little seedling, given the growth of years in moments by Druid magic. 

“Well, it was Mother’s idea in the first, so we could celebrate Solstice properly.” Mother, he says sarcastically, like he doesn’t grin when she calls him nicknames or get teary-eyed when she hugs him good-bye to go out on Harper business. There wasn’t any grand declaration when Jaheira decided she was adopting Astarion with the rest of her brood, but there was no stopping her from embracing it when she’d made up her mind. Not that it hasn’t done him a world of good, even if he doesn’t always like to admit it. 

“My Love, it was your idea to actually celebrate Solstice this year.” Astarion had, until this year, not been very fond of Holidays. A stance you decided you could live with, as your own experiences hadn’t been very warm and wonderful. This year, though, things were different. “The tree looks wonderful,”  a sudden little squeal followed by soft babbling came from the bassinet behind you, “and Estelle thinks so too.” It was Estelle’s first Solstice, and you both had decided it was time to make some better Holiday memories. 

Astarion hurries to retrieve her before she can demand it. He’s notorious for baby hoarding, and sometimes you have to remind him it’s your turn to hold the child you gave birth too. “You’re hardly qualified to have an opinion, Sweetie.” He wags his finger in front of her nose, and she grabs it quickly in return with a happy little trill, refusing to let go. 

When you’d first been able to lay eyes on her, it was already apparent she was a miniature version of Astarion, his features, pale skin, and wispy white hair that had grown into the beginnings of lush curls. The only thing that looked like you were bright blue eyes, which had relieved him to no end. “Red eyes would mark her as different far too obviously.” It was nice to see one part of yourself in her, though you didn’t mind that she was so much of him. 

Estelle was now suckling on Astarion’s outstretched finger. “Close to feeding time, you’ll have to relinquish her for a little,” you give him a saucy smile and settle on the couch to prep. 

Apparently he didn’t move quick enough for your offspring, as he hisses and gives Estelle the weakest glare you’ve ever seen him make. “Everyone is always telling me biting without permission is rude, I hardly think it’s fair you get away with it, Little Lady.” 

“Think of it as repayment for past misdeed,” you laugh as you begin to open your shirt.

“Are you still holding that night against me, my dearest wife? That’s ruthlessly unfair,” he settles next to you, waiting for you to finish before putting Estelle in your arms. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling husband” you bat your eyes at him and play innocent until you feel the stinging bite of the two tiny teeth she's recently grown.  Estelle is apparently equitably minded about causing pain this evening. “Ouch,” you whisper, not wanting to disturb her evening meal. 

Beside you, Astarion’s mood visibly falters. “What are we going to do when she grows fangs?”

You certainly aren't looking forward to it, but the love of your life was still considerably nervous about what the future would hold for your little Dhampir. “What we always do, get through it.”

“You're very confident.”

“Well, I did save the world once.”

He finally gives you a smile. “We, Darling, I was there too. I suppose you're right, though.” He turns his attention to intently watching his daughter nurse. “We've come this far.” Leaning in, he gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, carefully not to upset her. “Besides the tree, how does everything else look?” 

The parlor, dining room, hallway, and library had all been draped in festive boughs of evergreen with golden ribbon and strands of silvery beads. It was just this side of too much, but it was very Astarion. “Everything looks fantastic, Love. It's going to be a wonderful holiday. Now we’ll just have to keep Scratch and Midnight out of it.” 

“Speak for your own mutt,” Scratch whined where he lay in front of the crackling fire place. “Midnight is a perfectly well-behaved tressym.” 

Midnight, the tressym that had prowled Szarr manor, the Spawn siblings had kept their fondness for the creature from Cazador. They’d decided not to take her into the Underdark, and she’d ended up in your custody along with Scratch. She was, despite Astarion’s protests, not perfect. “Oh, I’m sure, she’s never any trouble.” 

“Hush,” he pretended to pout before sighing. “Odd that I get to walk in the sun again, and now we're celebrating the longest night of the year.” He gave the room one last appraising glance. “Gods, we’re really going to squeeze everyone in here.”

“At least Halsin promised to leave the Owlbear behind.” Estelle had finished eating and Astarion passed you a cloth to burp her with. 

“Gale still insisted on coming early to cook. We could handle it, you know.” The complaints tell you he really is quite nervous. 

“We could, or we could spend more time with Little Lady here,” who punctuated your words with an undignified burp. 

“Point taken Sunlight.” You pass Estelle to his waiting arms so you can close your shirt.

In the soft candlelight of the winter evening, Astarion looks absolutely ethereal. For a precious few moments, you just study him and your daughter. Since the moment she was born, he'd absolutely adored her. Fear still haunted him, fear her life would be too difficult as a Dhampir, fear he would fail as a father, but he tried his best every day. And those days when he did falter, when bad memories surfaced, when his temper was short, you were by his side. Not that you didn't have your share of fears and shadows from your past, but you knew he'd be there for you the way you were for him. Your bond made you both stronger. 

Right now, though, everything felt perfect. It was going to be the happiest Solstice you'd even known. 

A few days later saw you up before dawn on the morning of Solstice. Estelle had decided it was play time at an ungodly hour and now you, Astarion, and Scratch, were all gathered around a blanket spread on your parlor rug entertaining her. Your attention wanders for a moment, and she squeals at you. “Oh, I know, you have to be the center of the universe. You're very much your Father’s daughter,” you reach down and tickle her tummy. 

“Or maybe she knows she's worth it, like her Mother,” he blows you a kiss and your heart flutters like the first time you let him sink his teeth into you. 

“Flattery…” an unexpected knock at the door interrupts you. 

Scratch lets out a quiet bark, careful not to startle Estelle. He learned quickly that a scared baby is a crying baby. “This early? The wizard has finally lost his mind.” 

You both get to your feet, exchanging looks, it is unexpectedly early for Gale. Taking Estelle, you hang back as Astarion opens the door, Scratch at his side, ever vigilant. 

Gale stands in pre-dawn darkness, one magical chest in his hand that contains everything you'll need for today. “You know, it's still dark out? We could've been asleep.” Astarion stares at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Ah, but I see you are all awake and in good spirits,” he smiles awkwardly, and you get the impression that he's working up to something. “Besides, it was entirely necessary to arrive before dawn…”

“Really?” Astarion crosses his arms, waiting for further explanation. 

“Astarion,” you kiss his cheek, “don't be so cross with him.”

“Give it a moment,” Gale mutters, and you both turn to him. “I mean that is…well…” 

“Hells Gale,” a pale figure steps into the doorway with him, one that you recognize. 

“Dal?” Astarion asks, and you can see confusion starting to give way to realization. 

“Hello Astarion.”

“Alright, no use you two standing out in the cold, come in.” You look directly at Dalyria, a little unsure if the invitation needs renewal every so often. “Both of you.” 

The two of them waste no time stepping inside and quickly closing the door behind them, shutting you off from the cold of the early morning.

Estelle coos happily at the company. “And hello to you too, my sweet little niece. She's getting so big.” Some of the siblings had made the trek up from the Underdark when Estelle was born, Dalyria among them. It was a strange dynamic of almost family that years after Cazador’s death they were still working out.

“Yes, yes, she's endlessly adorable. She is mine, after all. Now, what the bloody hell are the two of you doing here together?” His voice pitches up at the end, a sign he's exasperated. You almost lose your composure and giggle at his inability to see the obvious. 

“Well, as it happens…” Gale inhales like he's about to launch into a very long-winded explanation. 

“We've been seeing each other since your wedding. It felt like it was time to tell you.” To emphasize her point, she hooks her arm in Gale's.

“I see.” Astarion shoots you a look to see if you knew about this, and is evidently satisfied by your shrug. 

“Don't be cross brother,” Dalyria lets go of Gale to pull him into a sudden hug, that he returns after a moment. “We just wanted to wait until we were sure of things”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically. “I suppose you're forgiven.”

She kisses his cheek and releases him. “Thank you. Now, to not take away from the little daylight you'll get today, is there a place I can wait it out?”

“Estelle and I can show you up to the guest room,” you motion for her to follow. All the rooms in your house had shutters thick enough to block out the sun, remnants of Astarion’s recently relieved nocturnal life. 

The guest room is a cozy little room tucked under the eves of the house, the last bedroom remaining after Estelle’s nursery was created out of the previous guest room. “Sorry, it’s a bit small.” 

“Still better than a night in the Kennels, I’d wager,” she laughs.

Her words make you wince, sometimes you forget they all shared in the same torment, maybe not as often as Astarion, but still. “I imagine. I’m-” 

“Don’t, I’m just making light of it.” You’ve never quite gotten to know her and the others all that well, your trips to the Underdark being sporadic at best, but now you glimpse that unbroken will that led her to look for a cure to her condition. “This is very nice of you, Gale and I will be perfectly comfortable.” 

“We’ll come back up and check in once I’ve turned Gale loose in the kitchen,” Estelle shouts her agreement. 

“Send my brother up if he needs a time-out from Gale.” The two of you laugh, and you head back downstairs, worried about that exact thing. 

Astarion doesn’t disappoint as you find him in the kitchen, the first pink light of dawn peeping  through the window, lending a flush to his skin as he pins Gale against a wall, dagger drawn. “And another thing, if ever even think of trying to compare her to Mystra...”

To his credit, Gale stands calmly, hands raised, and look imploringly at you. “I think you've gotten your point across, Love.”

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically and releases your wizard friend. The dagger quickly disappears, you've learned over time that he never really got out of the habit of keeping one hidden on himself. “And you owe me at least two books back, my shop is not a library.” 

“Right,” Gale straightens his clothing. “Now that's all settled, let's get started.” He hefts the small chest onto the kitchen table, and opens it. A space larger than the outside is contained within, a larder to do even the Grand Duke's shame. “I hope I remembered everything.”

The next several hours see the three of you prepping, roasting, sautéing, simmering, and baking. Although Gale truthfully does most of the heavy lifting, you and Astarion are both very much middling still when it comes to the kitchen. You take turns playing assistant, passing Estelle between the two of you, and Astarion pops up to visit Dal. 

The sun is just on its way down when there's another knock at the door. The first of the evening's guests, Astarion goes to answer it while you continue to stir the sauce Gale had declared a “flavor near divine”. 

“Bat pup!” The unmistakable voice of Jaheira fill the house.

“Hello Mother,” Astarion replies warmly. 

The Mother thing had actually begun as a joke. During the time trying to defeat the Absolute, one of Astarion’s petulant comments had prompted Jaheira to tell him if he was going to act like a child, she would put him over her knee like one. He’d responded with a sarcastic, “yes Mother”, and an eye roll. 

“Better, Cub,” Jaheira had laughed, unfazed by his antics. When he insisted she not call him Cub she looked at him and smiled. “You’re right, Bat Pup is much more suitable.” They’d been that way since, the tone of it softening over time. Despite his age, all the time spent as Cazador’s slave and not really living had left Astarion closer mentally to who he was at his time of death, where Jaheira was very much the sum total of her life experience. 

“And there’s my favorite little troublemaker.” You can hear Estelle’s excited trill for her “grandmother”. You’ll give them a few minutes to catch up.  

Involuntarily, you smile as you keep a close watch on the sauce. “A wonderful sound, isn’t it?” You turn to Gale, giving him a puzzled look at his words. “The sound of happiness,” his eyes twinkle at the words. “If you had told me years ago that Astarion would be happy and content as a family man with a bookshop, I would have laughed. But here we are.” 

“So would I, if we’re being honest.” A part of you remembers a clandestine confession from him, intentionally far away from Astarion’s hearing. Feelings you couldn’t return. “I’m glad you found someone too, Gale.” 

“Indeed. Sometimes the things we think we want most aren’t the things we need. A lesson I’ve learned more than a few times. Although it didn’t take me nearly as long to learn that as much as it seemed Astarion needed you, you needed him too.” For a moment, the two of you are lost in memories of that harrowing time. “Ah, but let me save myself from distraction and monitor this roast. The others will be arriving soon. And you should go visit with Jaheira before she has to go back to the other children.” He gives you a warm smile and shoos you away. 

“Helps with the pain of those little teeth coming in. I’ve got a few growing, I should be able to keep you stocked.” 

Reaching the parlor, you find Estelle, happily chewing on some plant leaf in Jaheira’s lap and Astarion looking like he’s fighting the urge to snatch her back. The two of you had a serious talk about this holiday celebration and letting other people hold her for more than a few seconds. “There’s my Cub, the famous hero.”

“Hello Crow,” you’d never been able to think of her in the same maternal sense as Astarion, your own motherly relationship was so messy it bled into any others. Truthfully it had made you nervous as to what it would be like to be a mother, but the sound of Estelle’s first cries had soothed away any lingering doubts, you may not be perfect at it, but you would fight for her happiness every day. “She looks like she’s having a good time,” you gesture to Estelle and the leaf. 

“That’s the best Solstice gift so far. It was a nightmare when the first two came through, and I know others will be starting soon. I see you’re managing to behave yourself, Love,” you kiss Astarion’s cheek to emphasize your approval as you sit next to him.

“As if she wouldn’t entangle me or some nonsense if I didn’t let her hold the grandchild. But then again, she is getting a bit old, maybe she’s slowed down.” 

“Watch yourself Astarion or you will find out what I’m still capable of.” 

The sun is sinking behind the horizon as the last of the shortest day of the year comes to a close. Dalyria descends to join you all, Midnight nestled in her arms, the tressym deigning to leave her attic kingdom for once. Astarion stokes the fireplace, leaving the room in a warm glow. Scratch immediately gives up on the vigil he’s been keeping at the kitchen door to lay in front of the fire. 

Underneath the tree, brightly colored presents wait for unwrapping. There’s a knock on the door as the next of your friends arrive. Over the next hour, they all show up. Lae’zel and Shadowheart, newly engaged and figuring out just what sort of wedding a Gith and Half-Elf should have. Wyll and Karlch, lovers and heroes of the Sword Coast now that they’ve returned permanently from Avernus. Minsc and Boo, very much in Holiday Spirit. And finally Halsin, unexpectedly with a shy looking Drow man on his arm. “I hope one more isn’t imposing,” he says with a nervous yet excited smile. “This is Veltris.” 

“We can make work,” truthfully you’re terribly intrigued by the man who has Halsin so clearly smitten and you lead them inside to join the others.

Someone has passed a wine bottle around the parlor now heating up with all the bodies gathered there. Astarion has a dosing Estelle back in his arms, who somehow is undisturbed by the chatter all around. “Try this,” Dalyria passes him a glass poured from a distinct blue bottle, “I’m preserving blood for long term storage.” 

He makes a face but keeps drinking. “I suppose it is better than nothing.” 

You settle back down next to him, taking a glass Wyll has passed you. “Always the gentleman,” you smile at him. 

“Does he do more than kiss your hand behind close doors?” You’ll never get over Lae’zel’s sense of humor. 

“Well, not always,” Karlach gives you a wink.

“Do tell?” Shadowheart teases.

“I’ll have you know…” Wyll tries to defend himself.

‘My daughter is right here!” Astarion huffs. “Gods, Gale had better finish dinner soon before you all get any more wine in you.” 

“As it just so happens,” the Wizard appears in the doorway of your dining room. 

“Finally,” Astarion huffs. 

The others get up and start making their toward the wafting scent of a mouthwatering feast. “Minsc hopes you have made enough for Boo’s tremendous appetite!”

“I had better go before the young ones burn the house down,” Jaheira leans over to give Astarion a hug. “Behave yourself Bat Pup, and you too Cub,” she gives you a last wave and heads to the door. 

You start to get up to follow the others, and Astarion grips your hand. “What is it?” For a moment, you worry something has gone wrong.

His head leans on your shoulder. “Nothing, it’s just…” The silence leaves your heart heavy with worry. “Everything is so perfect, more than I ever thought possible.” You can hear the tears in his voice, but don’t say anything, he doesn’t always like to draw attention to large emotions. “A holiday with you, and Estelle, and all of them, a family.” 

“Our family, Starry Sky, and this is the first of many to come.” 

The two of you take a quick moment for yourselves, basking in the glow of the fire, and the perfect Solstice evening with the ones you love. 

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

Tag list, DM to be added:

 @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx

@lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby

@satanicspinosaurus

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #my fanfic #my writing #BG3HolidayFluffle23 #x reader #chosen family

[soaricarus]

there's so much to life you don't notice until it's gone unless you actively make a choice to

the cascading hues of at dawn and dusk of not only the sky itself, but also the clouds above and ground below catching the colors, a rainbow as it appears and disappears in the sky, the vibrant and lush greens of the plantlife, the bright and pretty colors each flower has and snow glittering below the night sky so full of stars. it's almost alien to think we used to be able to see the milky way in the night sky but now we only see so few stars compared to what we used to be able to see.

the sounds of a stream or river running along its path and water foaming, your foot kicking up small rocks that clack together as you walk through a gravel road, the bristling of leaves from a tree canopy, leaves being dragged along the ground by the wind, dry branches cracking under you as you step on them, the soft crunching of snow as something walks through it, the chirping of birds at dawn and throughout the day. i always think about how many birds we're losing where i live. it's estimated corvids will go extinct in the next few decades, and the songbird population has drastically decreased already.

the feeling of gliding your hands through snow, grass, a bush, or against a tree tree trunk, turning a rock around in your palm to look at how it glitters in the light, sitting in a grass field or gravel road, a flower's petals, holding a flower in the palm of your hand, the feathers of a bird, a cold summer breeze, letting your hand float in the water of a lake just down the road from your house and running your hand along fur of a cat. one day they'll be gone, and you'll expect to hear them scratching at your door or meowing in the middle of the day, but when you check for them, you'll remember they aren't there anymore.

#words on the wind

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

meeting Foul Legacy during an expedition to the Chasm.

you're an experienced adventurer in your own right, having gone through many trials and tribulations to become as strong as you are today, so your journey was mostly done alone. of course, you needed a little help getting permission to access the vast mine and acquiring a Lumenstone- no matter how good of an adventurer you are, you cannot see in the dark. but from that point forward you were on your own, exploring every nook and cranny of the cavernous underground with sharp eyes and ears. it was fascinating to see the wonders of Teyvat, from lush underground gardens to caves full of clear, fresh water to a simply enormous mushroom, glowing as bright as a star.

you're investigating a set of crumbling ruins when you first see it- a gleaming eye, watching you from the darkness. unlike some of your more weak-hearted colleagues, you aren't scared at all, merely holding your Lumenstone higher to get a better look at whatever- or whoever- was staring at you. the eye approaches at the same time, your light falling on a creature almost twice your height, mask a bloody crimson red with twin horns curving upwards. you take an instinctive step back- many species in the Chasm are attracted to light-carrying humans as prey- but the monster shocks you by crouching to your level, gaze flitting from your Lumenstone to you and back again. a soft, gentle sound comes from the beast, which you can only describe as a croon, its claws open like it's trying to catch the light from the crystal in your hand

a small smile forms on your face as you step forward and carefully place the Lumenstone in the creature's hand for it to examine. it chirps in delight, turning the stone over and admiring the light that emanates from it. then the monster's gaze softens, its eye a faceted sapphire blue; talons extend and gently wrap around your hand, treating you as if you're made of fine porcelain.

you squeeze your new friend's hand and are met with a joyful trill.

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin x reader #childe x reader #and then later you make him a lil necklace or bracelet out of lumenstone just for him #so he can carry a little bit of light with him at all times #and he gets worried if you get sick from the mud in the Chasm #him taking you back to the surface when you're sick..... #nudging you on and encouraging you when you feel like you can't walk anymore aaaaa #short scenario #wifi's brainrot #good evening :)

[eldritch-spouse]

Livius slipping into the body of an actress with a catty attitude at a red carpet/awards ceremony, fully intending to cause a scene. He gets obsessed not with the actress but with her stressed out assistant.

She is fretting, readjusting the actress's dress and putting on some last minute adjustments to her look before she's on the carpet, and begging her not to stir any shit up at the event.

I know you and an the other two nominees for best actress don't get along but please be civil ma'am.

TW: Gore; Non-consensual demonic possession.

His plan was simple.

Cause a scandal.

Sometimes he does this kind of thing for fun, other times, he has the pleasure of doing it as a service from a formal agreement. You'd be surprised how many celebrities fish contacts to reach his Ring, to reach Lavineum the Envious. Really, him and Rinx have crossed paths on the surface more than once. Sometimes even Cero is looming by.

People just can't resist a bit of a hellish push to success, can they?

Every week, there's a new pretty face around the corner, some halfwit thinking they're going to make it big, a loser, a pawn, a dolly- People who let it all get to their heads and then, suddenly, one day, making a deal with an unfathomable force seems acceptable.

It just so happened that Livius' current patron is one rival of the gorgeous 32 year old whose body he's currently snug inside, wearing Ms Isabella like a glove. She wasn't particularly hard to get a hold of, most of these movie stars are pretty air-headed. He had her silent and dormant in less than a full minute.

He looks at himself in the mirror, combing over her extravagant dress that's honestly bright enough to kind of bother his sight. The woman's raven locks flow from her shoulders, and he twirls a lock the exact same way she does when in deep though. A practiced smile falls on that screen-friendly face as he switches through a few of her usual expressions.

Piece of cake. She's not very nuanced to Livius, as insulting as it may sound.

When the click of someone entering the room is heard, Livius straightens, then adopts Isabella's usual impatient stance, arm on her left hip, an intense gaze cast to you, the woman assisting this actress. Honestly, he doesn't know how well you get paid, but it can't be enough to justify dealing with Miss "I'm fluent in three languages and so much better than you-" on a regular basis.

" ... Ma'am? " You squint.

" Yes, what is it? " He snaps back the same tone you're probably used to hearing by now. The woman's slight Italian accent flows easily on the tongue.

" I asked you to sit down please, we still need some last minute adjustments. "

Livius glances at you once more before doing as told.

You're very pretty. It's almost odd that he's possessing the celebrity here, yet you have such a sweet little smile and eyes so full of hope that you could easily make it out there in the same areas as the woman you're working under. Maybe that's why she's so rude to you at times. Livius sits in the lush little chair in front of several mirrors and forgets that perhaps he's been staring at you for a little too long, because you shiver eventually.

He needs to be cautious, his gaze isn't like the vacuous glare this woman spares most people, it's something a lot more invasive and whole. When Livius stares, he sees.

Before you can ask if everything is alright, he diverts. " Go on, we don't have all day. "

And the way you jump has him muffling a smile. " Y- Yes, of course! "

As you get closer, the demonlord gets to sense your smell, your perfume rather, but there's a hint beneath that can only be yours alone. He'd be able to gouge it better if not for his host's own disgustingly overpowering, acidic crime of a perfume. Nevertheless, he's much too still while you work, observing every little thing you do. How your fingers twitch, where you lean to, which way your head tends to tilt, the expression you make when you're concentrated.

In fact, he likes that frowning puckered lip look so much that he subconsciously puts it on himself. And you notice, of course.

" Hahah... " You pause, heat rising on your cheeks. " I know, it's silly. You got me. "

Livius is very glad you took it as a joke rather than the amateur slip up it actually was.

When you continue, he schools himself a bit better, forcing himself to relax a little so he's not hyper-focused on studying you. He ponders on the steps he'll take to complete his deal, the most amount of damage he can make to this woman involves flickering through some of her insecurities, her lowest moments and most repugnant thoughts. The core of what makes her human, her disgusting sinuous vein.

Unfortunately, it's more than a little difficult to remain focused with you so close to him. As you shift the woman's luxurious necklace, he feels your small fingers brush against the expanse of her neck, a pleasant tingle up her scalp, the scent of you largely demanding of his attention. You're the type of person he could hold onto forever. It's a shame he's in the middle of a task, because Livius would much rather dwell inside of you at this moment.

This increasingly loud hum begins rocking his chest as the demonlord sways, enjoying the care and sighing while digits adjust earrings. And everything is right in the world, no thought spared to what time and day it is. Until...

The touch vanishes, the extra warmth recedes, Livius is bereft and irritated.

" E- Excuse me, ma'am? "

His eyes snap open.

Livius had been rumbling for a while. Oopsie.

He gets to see your eyes flicker from him, so full of confusion and doubt, to the wide mirror directly behind Isabella. And what you see there makes the color drain from your whole body. Your fear is palpable and thick, like the lump in your throat as you struggle to get in enough air to scream.

Scream like a wild animal, at the top of those itty bitty lungs.

What a wonderful melody. There are other ways he'd like to make you scream, now that he thinks about it. You're just a lot of fun, for some reason.

" Is something wrong? " He mirrors some of your own terror.

All you do is point at the mirror, taking a step back and trying -Failing- To steady your breathing.

He doesn't need to look back to know what's happened. You're seeing him. The actual him.

Instead, said mirror just bursts into a million shards, the force with which it's broken sends pieces flying through the room, your pitiful self cowering and shielding your face as you gasp and sob in shock.

" Oh my... " He starts, knowing damn well that more than a few of those shards have embedded themselves in Isabella's back. She must look like a porcupine, hah.

Livius turns around and pretends to care about the situation, thumbing over the mess he made, watching her bleed just a bit more from the brand new razor-thin blades that cut their way into her digits.

He hears you gasp tremulously somewhere behind him.

Livius allows her visage to distort, senses his sharp grin crawl up cheeks that straighten and elongate to accommodate it, his eyes force her skin to stretch with unpleasant zips of flesh as her eyelids fail to transform in time. He's getting a touch too excited.

" I don't think they'll mind too much, right? " He mocks, Isabella's attractive accent melting into his standard ragged demonic tenor.

The first thing that spins back is her neck, then her body, Livius stretching within the human's physical limits. When her arms and legs elongate, her form expanding into something strained and twisted, Livius sighs in momentary relief.

" Oh God... " You sniffle, legs unsteady, held up only by the opposite wall's support.

" Oh God... " Livius mimics fondly, loving the sound of it.

A click echoes, the room is now locked firmly. You seem to be silently making peace with certain death.

" You know- " The demonlord begins, swatting locks of bothersome curly hair away as he leisurely walks towards you. " In all these years you've worked for me, I realize I haven't gotten to know you all that well. "

You only shake and brokenly gasp when Isabella's bloated, clawed fingers make contact with your shoulder.

" Isn't that a shame? "

Livius chuckles at the small whimper you let out when he pulls your figure closer to his, swaying both of your forms calmly.

" But we still have a bit of time, I reckon. So why not tell me a bit about yourself, hm? "

It's not as if you're leaving the room until you humor him anyway.

#Livius oc

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: The moon is beautiful, isn't it?

G/N. A confession. Sorta follow up to this. (@razypie 🌝)

"Shall we bang?"

SMACK!

Finally, the errant bug stops buzzing. Squashed beneath your palm as payback for trying to bite you for the last minute.

Turning to Ryuhei with a glare and wiping the residue on his white coat, "I swear to god if you brought me out here to fuck, no one will ever find your body again."

"Can't blame me for trying," he says with a shrug and shit-eating grin.

Ignoring the stray insects and their valiant attempts to bite you now and then... and also ignoring your boyfriend's mood-killing question, you have to admit that this is pretty romantic.

A night time surprise, he had suggested. And you were definitely curious.

(The last night time surprise he sprang on you only a few days ago in bed, you thoroughly enjoyed. So why not, he's got a decent track record so far.)

What you didn't expect was for him to whip out a second motorcycle helmet, navigate quiet roads out of the city with you pressed against his back and arms holding him tight around the waist, until finally arriving at a lookout point.

Seoul shines in the distance, glowing and glimmering. Even from so far away you can feel the thrum of the city. The buzz and the beat of the capital.

But this here, where the cicadas are loudest, and the trees grown lush, sways and rustles with the breeze-

You begin to understand why when darkness falls and covers the earth in shadow, it is considered magical.

Air cool and skies clear. Stars sparkling in the inky sky that the light pollution of Seoul can only gently graze.

And then the moon. If you were a more sentimental person you would have gasped.

Full and bright and impossibly close. Overshadowing everything else with its lunar luminosity.

You didn't think Ryuhei had it in him for this type of romance.

(Truthfully, he was only half joking with his first question. Trying his luck. But if you agreed then you would both be doing something very different right this second.)

Ryuhei looks at you, everything else blurring into the background. There could be shooting stars and he wouldn't be able to catch one. The moon could be blue and he wouldn't notice.

What he does notice is you shivering when the breeze picks up. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, tucking you into his side, protecting you from the elements without complaint.

You rest your head on his shoulder.

The scent of grass and earth, the oil and petrol of his motorbike, citrus notes from his aftershave mingles together, carried by the wind until it's all around you.

Providing a deep comfort, a sense of ease and contentment.

Ryuhei, unusually quiet and in his native tongue, whispers into the night, "Tsuki ga kirei desu ne,"

You turn towards him, ready to ask for a translation but he's already looking at you.

"Tsuki ga kirei desu ne," he repeats again and you think he can see into your soul. Smiling softly, softer than you have ever seen, "It means the moon is beautiful, isn't it."

You nod. You think tonight is the most beautiful you've ever seen it.

Ryuhei smiles once more before pressing a kiss to your cheek, lips barely grazing your skin and then confesses.

Leans in close to your ear, voice hushed, "It also means I love you."

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #ryuhei kuroda #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #wannaeatramyeon #razypie i cant believe you've done this to me