#this is both so much easier and so much harder than doing it on ao3

[cloudedgalaxies]

Three Nights Remain

Leona Kingscholar loves sleep more than anything else in Twisted Wonderland. So he is determined to continue sleeping all through the night when he has to host two freshmen crashing in his dorm for taking a rather stupid deal he had nothing to do with. It wasn't his problem.

Yet for some absurd reason, the three nights that the prefect stays in Savanaclaw, he doesn't get a wink.

Second Choice, Last Place

(part one) (part two) (part three) (read on AO3)

Word count: 4.5k

The moment Leona saw one of his freshmen bringing the herbivore and the weasel into his dorm, he knew that it was going to be trouble for him. He tried to avoid it as much as he could. Anything that didn’t involve him wasn’t his business, and wasn’t about to become his when it meant more work added to his plate he kept purposefully empty.

But here he was, watching his dorm get humbled by that very same freshman and strange package deal, where one wasn’t anything more than a pipsqueak and the other didn’t have a drop of magic in him. Here he was, finding that strangely enough, the person he thought would be dead last in a fight seemed oddly good at throwing down when the need arose.

Here he was, in his room, with two extra freeloaders on his couch that were much too loud and much too foolish for his taste, if they had gotten into a situation dire enough that forced them to stay here of all places. “Thank you again for letting us stay here,” the prefect said, as he made sure for the umpteenth time that his and Grim’s bags weren’t taking up any more space than they had to like a good little student.

Leona just hummed, making himself comfortable on his bed. “Don’t make me regret it.” Out of all the reactions that could have gotten out of him, the herbivore laughed. It made Leona crack open an eye to peer at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Yuu sighed as he shrugged out of his uniform jacket, still trying to be as unimposing as possible as he draped it over his bag. “Usually I’m the one regretting things. Like this deal, for example.”

“Getting cold feet now?” Leona taunted, almost more a leer than a real question. He couldn’t help but smirk just a little. “You made your bed, herbivore. Now you gotta lay in it.”

Yuu huffed lightheartedly, the faintest hint of a smile etched on his lips. “Grim’s already taken care of that, I’m afraid.” He looked down at where the thing was already conked out, spread out on enough of the couch that it’d be a pain for the freshman to fit, too. Maybe that was the reason why he sighed, glancing down at bare wrists revealed by scrunched-up sleeves. “You wouldn’t happen to have a first-aid kit, would you?” he asked, that smile turning into something of a frown.

Another hum, as Leona eyed him through the slit he had to see through. “Didn’t know the herbivore was so easy to knock around.” He didn’t look all that beat up, but Leona could smell the tang of metallic blood in the air. Somewhere, skin had been broken. Wherever it was, he did a good job of hiding it, he’d give him that.

Maybe Leona was being a little mean. Something in him paused when the prefect’s eyes flickered, a dimmer thing flashing in them. “Didn’t know the lion took such pride in playing with his prey,” he shot back, making Leona’s second eye open as his eyebrow raised. “What a catch I am. ‘Doe-eyed and dimwitted,’ I think you put it. You must be flaunting me to everyone who’d listen as your best hunt.”

So the herbivore still had guts, even after facing beastmen full of snarling teeth and crackling spells. Leona smirked this time, tail flicking from where it was next to him. “Finally decided to drop that little act of respect, huh?”

Yuu grinned back, something twisted and dark and just evil enough to make Leona wonder if this frosh was really as out of place in this school as he originally thought. “Not at all.”

Doe-eyed, dimwitted and cheeky, he mentally added, a little more amused than he should’ve been to find out that the prefect had claws beyond just physical fights. “If I got anything, it’d be in the bathroom,” Leona finally said, trusting he wasn’t blind enough not to miss the door.

“Thank you very much, Housewarden Kingscholar.” He almost didn’t let the laugh that got out of him be anything more than another hum, but it did when Yuu somehow schooled his features to look as prim and proper as physically possible. He didn’t know how to feel about it. He could be asleep and yet here he was, laughing at some forgettable freshman’s joke.

Leona decided he’d sleep now, letting his eyes shut again. It wasn’t his problem that he had been foolish enough to make a contract with the cephalo-punk, and it wasn’t going to be. The only thing that he would contribute and take from this was a temporary lodging and a new, equally temporary servant. 

But then little noises kept coming from beyond the wall—clinking and ripping and the shuffling of clothes—and he found that it was enough of a distraction to keep him awake. “Knock it off,” he called with a lazy snarl, turning onto his side. There were days that he didn’t mind his heightened senses, and then there were nights like now, when he almost wished he was as deaf as a human so that he could get to rest.

“Sorry. I’m almost done.” Leona’s ear swerved as he picked up something else. A faint gasp, the sharp inhale of a hiss. He felt a growl rising in his throat when he heard it, though he didn’t know quite what it was directed at. Irritation that he was still awake, he decided on, when another of those breaths were sucked in.

Leona dragged himself off his bed, stalking over to the doorframe. Yuu almost jumped when he saw him, making a little flash of predatory satisfaction run through the housewarden. It was accented with the smell of blood, sharper now, since the wound was exposed to the fresh air instead of covered like before. It was a gash on his arm, still weeping a thin stream of scarlet.

It wasn’t just that one place, he realized, when his eyes slid to the hand gingerly letting his bunched-up shirt fall again. There was a bandage already on his abdomen and a bruise budding on his hip, only the very edge visible from where it dipped below his pantline. Leona supposed if he looked closer, took in a deeper breath, he’d find hints of even more blood and blue on his body.

That growl returned. “You really are easy to rough up,” he scowled, eyes smoldering as he looked at the prefect. Yuu averted his for a moment, but then thought better of it, staring right back with a face that said how unafraid he was. Leona’s glower grew. He was too bold for his own good.

“I’ve managed just fine until now,” the herbivore reminded, going back to his wounds as though Leona was nothing but a shadow on the wall. He didn’t make a sound when he dabbed some sort of ointment on the cut, biting the inside of his cheek to muffle it. But Leona still caught the faint scent of pain, something just as sharp and thick as though he was feeling it himself. If he looked close enough, he could see the way the herbivore’s eyes squinted, in annoyance and exhaustion and a list of other things Leona didn’t want to list, because he shouldn’t be thinking about it anyways.

What a pain. 

Yuu opened his mouth as Leona stepped closer, undoubtedly about to shoot another quip at him, but he stopped when he noticed that the housewarden had swiped a roll of bandages, ripping off just enough to wrap around his injury. His wrist was thin, Leona found himself musing when he felt the way Yuu’s heart skipped and thudded from his vein. It was almost impossible to see what he really looked like, thanks to the uniform that was at least three sizes too big for him, but even then, he wasn’t nearly as brawny as he’d imagined, to be able to take on the number of his dorm members he had and win. Then again, he would have to be small, to avoid the spells that seemed to follow him like fire streaking through dried grass.

He didn’t say anything, even as Leona tied the bandage ends together, keeping it there to cover the slice on his skin. “Thank you,” Yuu finally murmured, when Leona dropped his hands and leaned back, eyeing him a bit more. He really was puny. He couldn’t imagine that he’d be close to a filling snack to the menaces that were the Leech twins, let alone himself.

“Just stop making noise.” Yuu sighed, but the hints of a smile were on his face. Leona almost scoffed at it. The prefect started to put back together the supplies, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into his face back again. That was when he saw it, able to look at it without distractions like other people or fights that he’d started. 

Leona had known that Yuu got hurt from when he’d overblotted, but he had never been able to see just exactly what he’d done. It was the first time he was seeing it from so close up—taking in the claw marks that spread from the side of his head to the corner of his jaw, still red and still fresh, even though the tournament had been some time ago now. With how big and long the four scratches were, Leona was almost surprised that the herbivore still had an ear on that side. But miraculously, it was still there, only with a few nicks and tears to speak of. 

It was healing as nicely as it could, but even so, it would no doubt hurt like no one’s business if it was put in saltwater—like the very sea he was going to dive into. That silent growl returned, but now Leona knew what it was directed at. 

“You’re staring,” the prefect mused, not looking over at him as he crouched to put the kit away. “I’m done now, I promise. You can go back to sleep.”

He felt something whisper inside him, like mounds of sand were forming to weigh him down. “Change into something else,” Leona grumbled, despite the way something putrid covered his tongue like rotten meat. “Your shirt’s bloody.”

The prefect blinked, and it almost looked like he was noticing that for the first time when he caught sight of the crimson stain on its front. Leona fought the urge to make that growl audible. “I don’t really have anything else,” he admitted, looking a little embarrassed as he did.

Of course he didn’t. Whether that was because the eels didn’t give him enough time to pack, or he just never had enough clothes in the first place, Leona didn’t know. He sighed either way, feeling the telltale drag of drowsiness start to pull him back to his bed. If he didn’t get to go back to it within a few minutes, he’d be angry. “Take something of mine then,” he ended up saying, trying to make this go faster so that he could get to sleep earlier.

“Are you sure?”

Leona just eyed him in return. “Anyone with half a sense of smell in this dorm would catch a whiff of it. They’d be on you in seconds if they knew it was from you.” 

It wasn’t a lie. The members of Savanaclaw were more feral than they should be some days, and it ended badly for anyone who was foolish enough to show their weakness off for others to exploit. If they knew that Leona was housing a wounded defect instead of just a defect, things would get bad for the both of them.

Only, he wasn’t either of those things. Leona didn’t know what to think as he watched Yuu tentatively open his closet while he stalked back to his bed, taking out the first shirt he thought Leona wouldn’t mind him wearing. This was a person—a herbivore—that had somehow taken him on at his stupidest, weakest, but still most powerful moment, something that he still didn’t know all the details of and didn’t want to, and won. Out of everyone in this school, Leona could count the people who were capable of that on one hand.

And yet, he still got pushed around like he was the weakest in the pride, beaten and used like a chew toy. Every time Leona had seen it, when those little spats had taken place in the botanical gardens for whatever reason, he had seen how the prefect had never fought back. He just defended himself with a look of set grimness on his face, and once his assailants were satisfied, he just went back to his day like they did. Maybe it was because he didn’t have magic. Maybe it was for some other reason, but all Leona knew and cared to know was that that was the way of the world. Those not favored were always second choice, and those not gifted were always last place.

Leona’s eyes narrowed as the prefect reappeared again, gently scooting Grim away for him to have enough space to curl up. Except, he didn’t. He reached down for his bag, pulling out a stack of documents thick as Leona’s wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, a snarl in his voice. It was too far past when he should have been asleep. It was too far past when the prefect should have been asleep, if Leona cared, but now he was starting yet another thing to keep them awake.

Yuu gave him a smile. Even in the dim light, Leona could see how it was strained, speaking of how desperately he wanted to drift off, too. “You can turn off the light. I won't disturb you.”

“That’s what your words are sayin’, but that’s telling a different story,” Leona countered, shooting an icy look at the papers. There was no reasonable way that a freshman should have that much of anything, homework or dorm responsibilities or anything else. 

He didn’t put them away, much to Leona’s annoyance. He couldn’t read the text on it from his position, so he couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion about it when Yuu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “They have to get done by the end of the week,” was all he told Leona, an apologetic tone woven into his voice. Leona met it with an unimpressed stare. “Pretend I’m not here. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

Leona’s eyes narrowed. Yuu tried to give him a sheepish smile, and that was finally the thing that made Leona relent, rolling his eyes as he let his head fall on his pillows. “You’d better be.” The last thing the prefect did before Leona made the light go out with a wave of his hand was put a finger to his lips, already displaying how silent he could be.

It wasn’t his problem, and it wasn’t his mess to clean up. So Leona let his eyes close, nestling just a little further into his bed to get comfortable. But he found himself keeping his ears alert, pricked and swerved just the right way to pin down the herbivore’s every noise. He really was quiet, Leona would give him that—the only thing he could pick up for the most part, even with his inhuman hearing, was the faint scribble of a pen and the occasional louder exhale of a weak sigh. 

At one point, there was something a little off. The air changed in a way Leona couldn’t quite place, making everything smell and sound and feel different. Then there was the sound of a cork uncapping a bottle, a whispered swallow, the rustling of a jacket as something was taken out or put back into his bag. Everything changed to normal a few seconds later, as though the strange abnormality had never happened. Leona chalked it up to his half-asleep state playing tricks on him, when he wasn’t quite sure what was real and what wasn’t.

But the sounds continued. Every time Leona thought that he was finally done, as a silence dragged out for long enough that he felt himself slipping into complete sleep, something would always break it. The resuming of writing on paper, or a little murmur so breathy Leona couldn’t even call it a whisper.

Finally at his wit’s end, Leona let his scarred eye open, peering through the night to catch a glimpse of the herbivore. He doubted that the prefect had moved from his position in all the time they’d spent in darkness. If he had, Leona couldn’t tell—he still was hunched over his papers, pen moving as though it were the last thing keeping the world from ending. He’d gotten through a good portion of it, at the very least. The stack at his feet that Leona assumed were the finished ones was thicker than he’d expected it would be, especially when he could hardly see in the dark as well as Leona could. Efficiency seemed to be one of his strong suits, if nothing else.

Yuu stopped as he finished the sheet he’d been working on, staring down at the ones on the ground with a dull look in the eyes that otherwise glowed like two ghostly blue stars. Leona could practically hear the gears turning in the herbivore’s head, screaming and clicking from the lack of oil rest would give them. And then he stopped, listening to his mind's pleas by joining the two stacks together before storing them back in his bag. Leona breathed a sigh. 

Only for the prefect to pull out another stack of papers. 

Enough was enough. “What,” Leona hissed, making Yuu jump at how a single emerald fire was aimed at him from the dark, “are you doing.”

“My homework,” he answered, too surprised to lie. It took another snarl from Leona to finally make Yuu come to his senses, albeit if he had any. “I thought you were asleep.”

“You can see just how right you are, can’t you?” Leona could hear the way Yuu’s breath hitched when he lifted his head, raising up to glare at the freshman. “Wasn’t that other stack it?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No. That was— that wasn’t.” Yuu seemed scared. Good. It reflected in his eyes as Leona sat up further, silently demanding a better answer out of him. “They’re from the headmage,” he admitted, fidgeting with his hands under the housewarden’s smoldering gaze.

“‘Course they are.” It almost sounded like Leona wasn’t convinced, with the venom starting to seep into his voice. He was more surprised that the birdbrain would trust a job like that to a freshman with no place in the world and no magic to his name. Maybe that was exactly why, he realized, as he remembered that Crowley was the reason why the herbivore had even been investigating him in the first place.

It clicked then, what Yuu's role was in everything. Of course—he was someone unnoticeable and disposable. And Leona’s anger surprisingly changed to a new target, as he recognized just how little say the student in front of him had in anything. But no one in the room had to know about that. “Put them away,” he ordered, giving the papers such a heated look it wouldn’t be surprising if they spontaneously combusted. Yuu opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt argue with him, but Leona stopped it with another hair-raising snarl. “Now.”

Yuu gave him a look that only seemed half-annoyed, with how worry and fear was taking up the rest of his brainpower. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop talking.” Yuu immediately listened, closing his mouth without another word. So now he had some common sense. “Lay down ‘n sleep,” Leona told him, narrowing his eyes more for every second that passed where he didn’t. “I’m not askin’, and I’m not saying it again.”

Leona watched with eyes that didn’t miss a thing as Yuu did as he said, making sure there was no way for him to worm his way out of it again. Maybe he should start calling the herbivore the weasel instead of the pipsqueak, he thought with an almost sarcastic tone. He was small and slippery enough to be one.

Finally, the freshman seemed like he was done. So Leona laid back down again, hoping for sleep at last. “Sorry,” the herbivore mumbled, not-quite-quiet enough for Leona to miss. 

His eyes opened again from where they had almost closed shut, feeling those sand dunes press down on his chest again.  “Go to bed,” he answered, in a voice that was not quite as harsh as before. 

The prefect shifted one more time, readjusting the blanket draped over his body for one final last noise of the evening. “Good night.” 

Leona sighed, forcing himself to stop staring at the ceiling and listening to the prefect. Some sleep he was getting.

Once Yuu and his gang of freshmen disappeared from campus, Leona returned to his room instead of his regular spot in the botanical gardens. He’d been tipped off by the herbivore’s frantic studying to know that there were going to be one too many classes there for him to stomach, so he returned to his room instead, peacefully and blissfully quiet without his two extra roommates.

And yet, he did not sleep. For some strange reason, Leona dug through his possessions, without rhyme or reason, trying to remember where it was that Ruggie told him he’d stored a particular group of stuff. Of course, he’d been falling asleep, so he hardly remembered what the sophomore had said to him. At the time, Leona hadn’t cared in the slightest, but he supposed he was a little ticked off at his past self now, when he’d rummaged through enough places and thrown enough things around that he wanted to just stop and get in his afternoon nap.

Then, finally, in the last few seconds Leona had grumbled to himself he’d spend doing this, he found it, left to gather dust in a box in an unused room. Anyone without magic or muscle would have been doomed to get buried in all the discarded things, which was why Leona had held off looking in there until he was completely sure that was the only place it could be. It really was for the best that Yuu and Grim roomed with him, Leona found himself thinking, before he threw the thought out of his head.

He’d done more than enough for today, Leona decided. So he haphazardly threw it onto one of the many piles of things scattered amongst his floor and slunk back to his bed, hoping to catch a few winks before Ruggie came looking for him for lunch.

No one at this school pulled any punches, Yuu found, even for those younger and weaker than them. Any other day, under any other circumstances, she would have respected that. But now, when she was tired and cold and sore, Yuu just wanted to go back to her moth-eaten bed and let the world crumble around her.

“You’re not done yet,” Ruggie chimed, noticing how Yuu and Grim were about to fall back onto Leona’s couch and pass out, even though it was littered with mess. “We gotta clean, then you can conk out.”

Of course. Yuu sighed, grabbing Grim by the scruff to pick him up again and set him on the ground, too tired to speak. “This feels messier than last night,” she mused despite herself, knowing it was probably a little rude, but exhaustion removing her filter.

“It always seems that way when it’s your job to clean up.” Yuu hummed, grabbing any and all laundry nearby to throw in the hamper. If nothing else, she could try to be quick. Then she could get to the mountain of paperwork she still needed to do, between her homework and the papers Crowley had assigned to her.

The last few rays of sun trickled in through his balcony, and Yuu couldn’t help but pause for a second, watching the great ball of fire descend to the horizon. She only had two more days to achieve the impossible. It would have been difficult enough with a month, but with only three sunsets given to her, Yuu had half the mind to just curl into a ball and let herself give up.

But she couldn’t. Yuu wasn’t the only one standing to lose something now. It was the mess she’d told her friends she’d help them get out of, so it was her burden to bear. Yuu sighed, rolling her shoulders to hopefully shake some of the aching soreness in them from swimming the entire day, and got back to work. Leona did nothing but watch with half-lidded eyes, lazily following their movements as the two of them cleaned while Ruggie oversaw.

Once the rest of the room was devoid of things haphazardly tossed around, Yuu moved onto Leona’s desk, seeing that there was clutter still near its surroundings. She hadn’t meant to pry, but when she carefully took the blanket that was draped over the table into her hands, folding it absentmindedly, her eyes dragged across the words of the opened book below.

And then they widened. “Leona,” she called, feeling a spark of hope ignite in her for the first time in weeks, “are these your textbooks?”

His eyes had closed, and they did not reopen at her query. “What’s it matter?”

It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no, either. “Could I borrow them for tonight?” Yuu asked, glancing down at Grim when he made his way over. Hopefully he didn’t miss the silent plea she’d given him to start reading, just in case Leona suddenly got up and snatched them away.

Not that he'd do that. Or maybe he would. After last night, Yuu wasn’t really sure where his boundaries were in what did and didn’t make him mad. But the housewarden just hummed, not bothered enough to give her a proper answer. It wasn’t a no. “Thank you,” she breathed, taking them in her hands as though they were the most fragile glass and bringing them back to her makeshift bed.

“You’re still doin’ homework?” Grim exclaimed, the hint of disapproval in his voice. “We’re not even goin’ to class, minion. There’s no point.”

“We’ll still have to learn the material,” she countered, only half present in the conversation. The last of her attention on her surroundings disappeared when Ruggie snickered, echoing in her ears like the whispers of sand grains shifting against each other. Maybe tonight, she could finish her homework before such an unreasonable hour.

And Leona watched through that one hardly-opened eye, as the last of the light disappeared from inside his four walls, and yet the prefect still worked.

#first time posting fic on tumblr so fingers crossed the formatting is okay!! #this is both so much easier and so much harder than doing it on ao3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #leona kingscholar #yuu #twst yuu #leona kingscholar x yuu #leona kingscholar x reader #three nights remain #cloudedgalaxies #writtengalaxies

[bg-brainrot]

The Night They Slept Together

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Tav pines, and their relationship with Astarion shifts ever so slightly. (They literally do just sleep)

Tags: 2nd person POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Pining, light hurt and angst, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, coping with feelings, act 2, pre-confession

A/N: some light angst as Tav comes to term with their feelings but we already know where they end up, so it's okay, right? :D

Word count: ~2.1k

--

Your tryst with Astarion should be over by now.

It was supposed to be a one off moment of passion, a way to destress after all of the danger you’d thrown yourselves into. He’d asked so easily, you’d agreed just as readily– a quick celebratory moment after defeating that goblin camp, when your spirits and libido were running high.

The second time? Well, that was easy to write off as well. You’d just fought off an entire creche, moving through it like a pair of practiced assassins, a synchrony you haven’t felt since– well, you’re not certainly you’ve ever felt so in sync with someone. Either way, it was another easy nod to his sly, questioning look. 

You’d had similar excuses for your first night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, for the handful of midday, afternoon, midnight romps since.

It’s just a way for us to cope with the situation at hand, nothing more, nothing less, you’d told yourself.

That is, until you’d realized that it wasn’t just that. Not to you. 

Oh gods, I love this insane vampire.

The night you’d realized that everything had changed.

What had begun as a distraction for you both, had turned into a poison– one slowly working its way through your system, incapacitating you piece by piece at the thought of another night falling into his arms, sinking deeper into the throes of an impossible love. 

After all, what is this other than convenient? And if you continued to be a mere convenience to him, well, you doubt that this would end well for you. It’s high time that you cut off the source of this poison before it festers too far. Before it grips your vulnerable, aching heart.

That’s what you’d told yourself, but you’re finding it so much harder to cut off the source when he’s standing right in front of you, waiting for you with a smirk toying along the edge of his mouth, an eyebrow raising suggestively as his voice lowers to a sultry invitation. 

You’d come by his tent to say goodnight. Maybe, ‘Good job today.’ Any excuse to see him really, but now you’re met with a challenge.

Astarion’s words don’t make it much easier either.

“Oh my dear, you look positively wound-up after today’s bouts. Care for a little… unwinding?”

His voice drips with promise, with want, with a feeling that echoes through your own traitorous core. But, like a sweet that’s overstayed its welcome, it seems too tacky, hardening into something utterly indigestible.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask, eying him carefully, fighting down your own building desires.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” he asks, a raised brow lowering in uncertainty. 

You hesitate, unsure how much truth you’re willing to part with. Certainly not, ‘Because I may have accidentally fallen in love with you.’ And you don’t want to shove him out of your life unceremoniously either. Just… to slow down, allow your heart time to adjust– to get over him, if need be.

After a pause that goes on for a second too long, you finally settle on, “It just seems as if we’ve already had plenty of ‘fun’, don’t you think?”

Astarion’s small smirk drops, a dark look entering his eyes as he registers your words, how they directly counter his own from your first night together. How they fall between you with the full weight of rejection. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy now, darling?” he says, voice a bit sharper than what you’re used to.

You’d known that trying to slow down wouldn’t be easy, but his downturned lips make you want to take back your words, dive back into the intoxicating miasma of his cold embrace. But you also know that if you don’t stand your ground now, you’re liable to fall too far too fast.

“Not shy per say,” you respond, measuring your words carefully. “Merely wondering if that’s what you want.”

Astarion seems no more placated by these words than your earlier ones. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t want this?”

Fear born of your heart, insecurity born of your nerves, damned logic born of your head– there are really so many reasons he wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want you. But you don’t want to be too transparent, not when this adventure could all be over very soon. You say as much.

“Well, our days could be numbered.” Then your lips continue. “Perhaps there is someone else you would rather be unwinding?” The question slips out of you, an unbidden, unwelcome concern courtesy of the fear building in your chest.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, response quick, tone biting. His lips are pressed in a tight line, the muscles in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.

Gods, you’d known your heart would lead you astray. Here you are, facing an Astarion unlike any that had made a home in your bedroll. An Astarion made of sharp edges and cutting words. Expression closed, mouth a tight line, you find his change in demeanor aggravating. You bristle at his accusation. “No, Astarion. I don’t want that. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, speaking with you. Though you’re making me regret doing that much now.”

He tilts back at your words, leaning back on the heels of his feet as if thrown off balance. “Then why did you even come over? To reject me then to–to taunt me?”

You had meant to do none of that. Really, you’d only come over out of habit, to see him, to… spend time with him. But it’s hard to say so without being entirely too forthcoming with your feelings. You wish that you could put your feelings into words, however it’s your burden to bear, not his. He has more than enough on his plate between the Absolute and Raphael’s deal. 

So you shake your head at him. “I didn’t mean to reject you, Astarion. I hadn’t come here for sex at all.”

Once more, he asks the question you do not want to answer. “Then why did you even come over?”

You could lie. It’s as easy as breathing for you– it’s how you and Astarion had grown so close so quickly. You should lie, you tell yourself. But one look into his crimson, pleading eyes and the lie dies on your lips.

He looks hurt. So genuinely confused at your presence in front of him, deeply convinced that you could only be here for one thing and one thing only. And you know then that you can’t lie.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the honest words tightening your throat on their way out, You haven’t told him how you feel, but you may as well have, with the way the words sound utterly, sinfully soft, a secret lost on the cold wind of the Shadow-Cursed night.

“You… wanted to see me?” he repeats, tone losing all of its edge, losing any of its structure at all.

You nod silently, uncertain if more words would help or hurt the situation.

To that, Astarion only blinks. His mouth opens, head tilting in that cautiously inquisitorial way, as he asks, “And then what?”

There was no ‘and then’ in your mind. Merely the need to see him, spend time with him, even after spending an entire dark, dreary day with him. But you suppose he wouldn’t understand that if you said it. So you need to come up with something concrete, a reason to be here beyond words…

“I was wondering if you wanted to share a bedroll tonight. To sleep,” you say, infusing enough confidence in your words that you can hardly note the nerves. You expect Astarion wouldn’t notice them at all. 

His defenses noticeably drop, his shoulders sagging in relief, and a sigh escapes him as he shakes his head at you wryly. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, darling? I understand that not everyone has my stamina, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to roll your eyes, defend your honor as it hangs on by a thread, but you’ve narrowly avoided disaster and you’re not proud enough to ruin that. Instead you play into the role, ignoring the dull twinge that twists through your heart. “I wasn’t sure you would be so magnanimous,” you say, giving him the slightest bow of your head. “I should have known.”

“That you should have,” he says with a breathy laugh and he sounds almost… relieved?

More than anything, you want to ask him, why? Are you relieved that my feelings have stayed silent? That this thing between us remains uncomplicated? That you don’t have to find yourself a new distraction?

But your questions stay just as buried as your feelings do.

Your damnable feelings, which seem to threaten to burst out each time his eyes linger too long, with every touch you weren’t expecting. It must be a talent, holding them in as you do now.

They stay hidden as he extends a hand to you, inviting you into his tent with a warm smile and a, “Shall we?”

You keep them dormant as you follow, tucking your head into the now-familiar red structure, narrowly avoiding the mess he’s left inside. 

They almost slip to the surface as he pulls you down onto his lap, and a heat rises between you as natural as steam from a hot spring.

It’s an invitation, of course. One last effort from Astarion for something more tonight, for you to be won over by his beauty and charm. But there’s nothing to be won over because you are already his.

You wish he could tell, from your drunken declarations, from the way you’ve made a second home in his arms. Maybe he can tell, but refuses to acknowledge it– you could hardly blame him if that were to be the case. But you also can’t blame yourself for barely holding back.

Even now, seated in his lap, staring into his mesmerizing red eyes, you’re not certain you could trust a single word that comes out of your lips. So you throw every word you’ve ever known, could ever know, to the wayside. And simply kiss him.

You press your lips to his slowly, contact feather-light as you balance on his thighs. Bracing yourself with a hand on his chest, you lean in, locking your lips together fully. 

They move together easily, dance partners on a familiar dance floor, to a practiced tune, but when you think of all of the things you wish you could say, an urgency rises in you– a deep-seated need to tell him how you feel, even if only through this.

So you kiss him harder, your hands holding him all the tighter. You kiss him with every word unspoken, every intangible feeling rising in your chest, every single ounce of you that he’s already won, if only he were willing to claim it.

Astarion moves to deepen the kiss, placing a hand on the back of your head, the other on the small of your back, not understanding where your desperation comes from. Misunderstanding your intent altogether. 

Of course, what was I thinking? you wonder to yourself as you pull away, panting lightly. That some magical kiss could make this man realize my feelings, could make him love me back?

But you’re not in some copper novel. This man harbors no hidden feelings for you. Only a deep need to lose himself, and you happen to be the person he’s chosen to do that with.

So, despite the confusion in his face, you crawl off of his lap. Despite the way his hand trails along your side as you lay down, you don’t get back up. You merely say, “It’s getting late, we should get some rest.”

Astarion murmurs his agreement, but you can hear the reluctance in his tone, see the bewildered expression on his face as he lies down, all of his clothing still covering his body. 

You could laugh at the absurdity of it all, how unnerved he is, how deeply your chest aches– gods, this didn’t go well at all. But you don’t laugh. Only a sigh escapes you as you wrap your arms around him, as you press your body to his with all of the affection you cannot contain.

His arms stumble, they falter, but they find their way around you as well. An awkward embrace from a man who has no clue how he’s arrived at this point.

It’s difficult at a moment like this to remember that you shouldn’t love this man. That there are a dozen reasons to tamp down your feelings, a dozen more to run away. This was never supposed to be more than a single night of fun.

But, face tucked into the crook of his neck, hands clutching his loose shirt, nose filled with his carefully curated scent– you can almost pretend that this is real.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion is bad at feelings #spawn astarion #hurt comfort #lightly angsty #mainly pining

[cranberryjuice-posts]

POOKIE IM BCK W ANOTHER REQUEST

OK SO ITS A AHORT ONE ITS A PERSEPHONE!FEM!REDER AND LIKE ITS AUTUSM OR FALL WHAYEVER YOU CALL OT (WHICH OS WHEN PERSEPHONE GOES DOWN IN THE UNDERWORLD BYW) AND THE DEMETER KIDS START GETTINF THAT SEASONAL DEPRESSION THING (I READ ONE HC ABOUT WHERE THEY BECOME VERY SAD AND DEMOTIVATED DURING THE WINTER BC OF THEIR MOTHER BEINF SAD TOO) SO THE READER TIRES TO LIKE WATER PLANTS AND FLOWERS AND SUCH FOR AS LONG AS RHEY CAN CAUSE FHEY FEEL HALF RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PLANT GROWTH

- ILY POOKIE YAKE CARE OF YOURAELF🫶🫶‼️‼️‼️‼️

- the four seasons -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Persephone! Reader

Synopsis - its winter and you want to help make the Demeter kids feel better about themselves

An - My AO3 fic is almost done 😻 I only have 6 more chapters to write.

Winter was one of the Harder seasons at camp. Not because of the weather, it was normally sunny and warm because of the special border but because the crops were heavily effected.

Growing slower and with lesser produce was an effect from Demeter’s depression with her daughter gone to the underworld. Her children were also effected with this, their moods down for the worse and many not even bothering leaving their cabins.

You were effected to. Your hair became duller and your eyes a darker color of gold. Spending nights awake and an odd craving of pomegranate also arises.

Laying with clarisse in her cabin as the rain outside helped water the fields you both just talked about upcoming events all while cuddling. You slowly ate pomegranate seeds, occasionally passing one to clarisse.

After a while the strong girl noticed your downer than normal mood. “What’s up, your never this quiet and when you are either your pissed at me or your sad”

You didn’t care for her attempt at a joke but it was fine. “I feel bad” you muttered holding your head up some.

“For what?” She asked trying to bring you some comfort.

“It’s winter and like normal my mom is in the underworld with hades and so forth and so forth and the Demeter kids really like having me around during this time, but I just wish there was something I could do for them to help make not just them but Demeter herself feel better”

It was an idea Of course. With the nature kids happier the crops would also show a good result from it. Though trying to bring all dozen and a half kids to a better mood was harder said then done.

Clarisse let out a soft sigh thinking about what to say. “I was thinking maybe like holding a small party of festival or something fun for the entire camp” You sat up stretching some. “If you came to ask Chiron with me maybe he’d say yes but I’d also need your cabins help to”

“Sounds like a plan. Only question though what makes you think the Demeter kids will come out of their cabin for this” she asked, reaching up and playing with a strand of your hair wrapping it around her finger.

“I’ll force them out, they all favor me mainly because of who my mom is” you shrugged. “So it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Whatever you say” she gave you a reassuring smile before sitting up and giving you a subtle kiss.

••

Chiron agreed Of course, finding your idea to be beneficial to everyone. It was honestly a surprise though when the Athena, Dionysius, and Aphrodite cabin offered to help to.

With the entire camp helping you set up things went easier. The statues around camp were adorned with flowers and honorary wooden statues made with grain, roses, florals and more for Demeter and Persephone were made as well.

A large bonfire was created and multiple decorations put up. The saytrs and nymphs helped make a wide spread of deserts and finger foods as well as bringing a more lively feel to the night. It warmed your heart just how much these kids and creatures cared about the well being of not only the Demeter children but also the camp just as much as you.

Convincing the cabin four kids to come out was easy. They all wore pajamas and their hair messy and a few even had blankets around them.

Katie gardener the cabin counselor walked forward confused. Taking the opportunity you met her half way. “We made a festival of sorts. It’s to celebrate winter and our mothers. I figured that maybe this would help cheer some of your moods… we even got the cloven council to agree to play music” the last part made you giggle some.

At first the Ginger girls face was unreadable. Up until she started to cry. Quickly comforting her the other Demeter children followed suit, letting their tears out which you knew they shared with their mother you to started to cry some.

As Katie pulled away she thanked you. Walking with her towards the fire the party had officially started. Each kid seemed to of gotten a random burst of energy, their hair became brighter same as their skin and the other campers around you noticed the growing grass and plants near by.

Though it wasn’t much it was clear the goddesses appreciated your party in their honor.

Once the wooden statues were burned at peak of the night, the festival came to an end. Everyone happily returned to their cabins and you walked with clarisse towards hers, decided to secretly spend the night with her.

In her bed again You smiled over at her. “Thank you Claire..”

“It was Nothing” she smiled gently, only a smile reserved for you. “All it took was getting silena to agree to the idea and everyone else agreed quickly”

The notion made you giggle. “Guess my thanks should go to silena”

“I guess it should”

You closed the small gap giving her a sweet kiss. She was to good for you. Pulling away and cuddling into the crook of her neck you happily fell asleep in your girlfriend arms.

The following morning, the amount of strawberries, grain, and other vegetation that had grown not only overwhelmed everyone but could of set the entire camp well off for the next three winters. Not only that but for the following week you and the Demeter children all seemed to have a glowing effect over your bodies. Showing the appreciation from the gods.

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse larue #clarisse my beloved #percy jackson show #pjo fandom #clarisse x female reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you

[matchingbatbites]

as close to me as i can (18+)

Read on Ao3 | 1.2k

The kit had been Eddie’s idea. 

He could lie and say he doesn’t know where the idea came from, but he does. It’s been brewing in the back of his mind for a while now, ever since he saw it on one of their trips to the nearby sex shop.

He’s noticed, of course, how Steve can get sometimes. How he’ll check himself out in the mirror, how he’ll primp and preen until he looks like absolute perfection. It’s easier to see now that they’re actually living together, but that also means Eddie sees how he hides it from others, how he makes sure to keep his vanity to himself.

Eddie has had the best time pulling it out of him, has loved watching his boyfriend become more and more self-centered in a way they both adore. Eddie loves drowning him in compliments, both casual and filthy, loves that he’s able to help Steve build up his self confidence into something that others might even call narcissistic. Not to them, though.

He wasn’t sure if the kit was taking things too far, though. He’d been worried when he suggested it, and was glad when Steve lit up at the idea, when he instantly went pink with desire and pulled Eddie into their bed at just the thought of it. Eddie had gone the very next day to buy it, and two days later, they find themselves here.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

Steve’s hands clench at the bedding and he moans into the mattress below him, his back arches deliciously as he presses his hips back to meet every thrust, and Eddie can’t help but to stare at how gorgeous his boy is as he fucks Steve with the dildo. It came out better than they had hoped, the silicone firm but not rigid, and even though Steve had whined about how weird the plaster-like casting had felt on his dick, he certainly isn't- 

Actually, he's definitely whining now, all high and needy like he does when he wants Eddie to go harder, to make him feel it for days. Eddie doesnt give in yet, he wants to make this last as long as possible, but he can’t resist a bit of teasing, especially when it makes Steve flush all the way down to his shoulders.

"Yeah, that feels good. It’s such a nice dick, perfect for making pretty boys feel good, hm?”

Eddie smacks a hand onto Steve's ass just to hear him moan again, and then he pulls the dildo out completely. He leans in to spit into Steve's fluttering hole before shoving the toy back in again, and he soaks up the lovely noises his boy makes as he picks up the pace. He never thought he would get this hot from watching his boyfriend fuck himself on a replica of his own cock, but god, Eddie doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life. 

“Do you like this, Stevie? Like getting fucked with your own dick? Is it good, gorgeous?” 

Steve moans and nods and Eddie slaps him again, squeezes the flesh under his hand as he says “Gonna need more than that, baby. C’mon, use your words for me, tell me how much you love it.” 

He drives the toy deeper and Steve gasps, his hands clawing at the sheets as his thighs start to shake. “Fuckin’ love it! Love it so much-”

Another smack. “You love what?”

“My dick! Love getting fucked by my dick, feels - fuck! - so good!”

Eddie adjusts the angle until Steve is wailing under the onslaught of pleasure, until Eddie is almost worried that Steve’s legs might give out from how much he’s trembling. It’s heady, knowing that he can make Steve feel like this with nothing but a toy and some filthy words, and the thing that makes it even better is that Steve is just as into this whole thing as Eddie is.

“Such a narcissistic little whore, baby. Nobody else’s dick is good enough for you, huh? Just your own, ‘s the only one perfect enough for you, only one that makes you see fuckin’ stars like this, yeah?”

Steve gasps and nods, and he’s almost pulling the sheets from the mattress with how he’s tugging at it. “Fuuuck, ‘m gonna come, Eds, please! Don’ stop!”

He’s close, so close. Eddie can see it in how he shakes, in how he sobs as Eddie growls out a “Come on, Stevie, do it, gorgeous. Fuckin’ come from your own cock.” He picks up the pace and gives Steve’s ass one more hard smack, and that’s all it takes to shove him over the edge.

Steve screams when he comes, the sound muffled slightly from where he’s pressed into the bedding, and Eddie just watches in absolute wonder as he fucks Steve through it until he’s a twitchy, whiny mess. He pulls the toy out slowly and drops it to the side, doesn’t hesitate as he pushes his pants down and barely spits into his hand before he’s stripping his own dick, almost frantic in his pace.

“So fuckin’ pretty, Stevie, so good for me. Love how filthy you are, love how you’re just as freaky as I am, love the things you let me to do you.” Eddie’s babbling, but his mouth always tends to run when he’s close and Steve knows it, groans in response. “Fuck, ‘m gonna come, baby. Where d’you want it?”

He expects a groaned response, or the delirious Anywhere, please that he usually gets. Instead, a thrill of delight runs through him as he watches Steve reach back to grab his ass with one hand, spreading himself as best he can. 

“In me, Ed, please. Need it so bad.”

Eddie complies and grabs Steve’s hips before pushing into his hole, still slick with lube and relaxed from his orgasm. Steve keens as Eddie thrusts two, three, four times before coming so hard that he sees stars for a moment. His hips jerk as he fills up his boyfriend, and Eddie groans when Steve twitches a bit with oversensitivity, clenching around him involuntarily. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he pulls out, and dots a few kisses over the moles on Steve’s back as he waits for his legs to start working again. 

Once he can feel his toes he stands from the bed, quickly grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen before joining Steve agin. Cleanup is quick and practical, and he makes Steve drain the glass before he’s climbing back into bed and wrapping around his boyfriend like an octopus.

“So, I think that was a good investment,” he says after a moment, and Steve hums.

“I definitely agree. We should use it again, though, just to make sure we get our money’s worth out of it.”

Eddie grins and can’t resist giving a soft nip to the shell of Steve’s ear. “Oh trust me, pretty boy, I am already thinking of plans for the future.”

#i have no excuses and no apologies #sometimes when your brain gives you an idea you just go with it #thank you gin for enabling this #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #joey writes

[djarrex]

unsustainable

Captain Rex x f!reader

read on ao3 | masterlist

Falling in love with each other is just not sustainable.

finally have some juice to work on a couple of my half-baked and forgotten wips that would have otherwise sat in my drive to rot. enjoy 1.7k words of this smutty rex angst. 18+ only. explicit.

You grip his shoulders just a little harder as you double your efforts, chasing the feeling you’ve longed for since the last time Rex was here. You’re slick with sweat, your top clinging to your skin. Rex is still wearing some of his armor, only having removed the pieces that would keep him from entering you comfortably. Hardly any of his skin is exposed, except for a patch around where you’re speared on his lap – where he hastily pulled his cock from the waistband of his compression suit. 

“I’ve missed this,” you say breathily, bouncing harder on his lap. You reach for the waistband of his compression suit, sliding your hand up and along his abdomen, something made easier after he removed his cuirass. His skin is always pleasantly smooth and soft, warm as the thick muscles flex beneath your palm. 

“I’ve missed your fat cock – how it feels when you stretch me open.” Rex groans at that, tilting his head backward as you keep going. “You’re such a good fuck, Rex. Always know what I need and what gets me off.”

You can’t help but get talkative with Rex – it’s something about the way he reciprocates. He’s always listening – astute – to your words and to your body. If you get the ball rolling, Rex takes it and runs. It turns you both on even more.

“Yeah?” He groans again, meeting your eyes. His pupils nearly swallow the deep brown in his irises and you’re utterly lost in them. “Fuck – keep talking like that. I’m so close.”

Rex takes over then, his hands gripping your sides as he rocks his hips upward. 

“Shit, Rex. Just like that. I’m gonna cum.” You let your head fall backward only briefly as you let him take over. Heat brews in your belly. Fuck, you missed how it felt to have Rex reach so far into your cunt, knocking the breath out of you. 

Breaths, words. 

Anything.

“Harder.”

Rex grunts with the extra exertion – complies with your request.

“Harder, Rex.”

His forehead beads with sweat – his breath becoming ragged. It’s so good. You’re floating – drifting among the stars. Cool sparks prick your skin. It’s so much and not enough. You need him. All of him.

“Yes! Rex – right there.”

More breaths. More words. His name.

“I love how you feel–”

Then – the wrong choice of words. A mistake.

“–I love you.”

And just like that – you’re snatched from the edge, pulled away when Rex halts all movement. When you lift your head, his lips have sealed into a thin line, his brows furrowing. He’s watching you. Picking your brain. Your hands fall into your lap.

It slipped. You didn’t mean to let it out. Fuck.

“Sorry.”

You can't love him. He can't love you. It violates the very necessary agreement the two of you had discussed at the beginning of– of whatever this is. Loving the other means attachment. For you, attachment could end in heartbreak, among other things. For Rex, though – attachment will inevitably lead to distraction. You'd both agreed long ago that anything more than sex just would not be sustainable. Impractical. Dangerous – for both of you. 

You must not fall for each other.

Not again.

He exhales softly, but squeezes your thigh with just enough reassurance to pull a little apologetic smile from you. Still unmoving on his lap, his cock twitches with want inside of you. His eyes are still pooled with desire and you can’t help the little gasp you make when he carefully adjusts his angle against the bunk.

Rex runs the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. “Do you want me to keep going?”

You do. You really do. And you thank the Maker that Rex isn’t lingering on your comment – that he won’t let it ruin the moment. You nod, dragging your palms under his compression suit, this time reaching his firm, heated chest, feeling the raised skin of his scar. Leaning toward him, you whisper, “Make me forget.”

Rex is great at making you forget – and he prides himself in that.

He smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

You’re lifted off his lap and tossed onto your back. As your head hits the surface, Rex pulls down the bottoms of his compression suit, granting himself enough give to spread his thighs. The blood rushing  in your ears like a rapid river, you clench at the sight.

The rush you feel is only amplified when Rex just as quickly slots himself between your legs, pushing against the underside of your thighs and spreading them to his liking. He sinks into you with a single breath – and doesn’t waste any more time with getting you both back to your peaks. He has you crying out his name in moments, and he gets right into the talking – ever his usual self.

“You’ve missed this, yeah? I’m gonna make sure I make up for it – gonna fill this pussy.” He swallows thickly. “Ask me to fill you. Beg me.”

“Rex…” you gasp. Your cunt sucks him in so perfectly, making the most obscene sounds. “Fill me, Rex. I need you to fill me.”

He growls at that. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t stop there. You’re beyond floating now – more like crashing through hyperspace. You’ve since been flipped onto your stomach, laying completely flat with Rex pounding into you from above. His weight is hovering over you, bits and pieces of his remaining armor imprinting your skin. You feel his breath against your ear – hot and ragged. 

“Tell me how much you're gonna miss this when I’m gone,” his broken whisper comes. The sound of it goes straight to your cunt. “Tell me you’re gonna think about this – about this right here – while I’m gone.”

Before you can begin to formulate your gasps and moans into a response, Rex’s arm snakes around your hip, his newly-bare fingers finding your clit. You know he still has armor pieces on his arms, and you’re sure there are going to be impressions of it in your skin, but you’re unable to feel anything other than the molten pressure building in your core. Your orgasm hits you faster than the blink of an eye – knocks you off your axis.

You scream. Rex lets out a loud, shaky groan. He holds you there, pushed into the mattress.

“Good girl. Now take it. Fuck, yes, that’s a good girl. So good for me. Take it all, mesh’la.”

You do – and you allow yourself to bask in the moment, knowing it’ll disappear–that Rex will disappear–far too soon. 

When he finally climbs off of you, you feel entirely too empty. 

Instead of getting up with him, you just lay there, trying not to think about how his cum seeps out from you with every relaxed breath – how he’s claimed you so long ago – ruined anyone else for you – and this is a reminder. 

You can hear Rex reattaching parts of his kit, but he’s silent otherwise. You begin to mentally kick yourself again for slipping. It’s the fear that you’ve ruined everything. Again. The only thing you can think to do with your already sky-high anxiety is to keep talking. You turn to lay on your back, not having it in you to get up and dressed just yet. It’s easier to not meet his eyes this way.

“I’m sorry, Rex,” you say more to the ceiling than to him. 

He comes into view then, peering down at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. You’re unsure of what he’s thinking – and you’re even more confused when he sits down at your bedside, taking your hand into his.

“Stop apologizing.”

Finally meeting his eyes, you can only press your lips into a line, unsure of what to say next. Unable to stop it, the burning feeling of tears heats your eyes. You go to turn your face away, embarrassed, but Rex doesn’t have it.

“Hey,” he soothes, reaching to instead hold your cheek in his palm and gently redirecting you to focus on him. You’re forced to meet his eyes, but something’s changed. His expression is now clear, a distinguishable look of sincerity written in the way his features have softened. Even his eyes don’t feel as intense – a rare sight – something you haven’t seen from him in a long time.

“We– we tried before,” he begins, the pad of his thumb running along your cheek. You miss the way his hands feel, too used to the rough material of the gloves he wears. An extra layer of him that adds to keeping his true feelings buried far beneath the exterior. “I know it’s hard, but it’s better this way.”

Your voice finds its way back to you. “It’s not hard.” Pausing, you level him with a stare. “It’s impossible to not love you, Rex.” 

He considers that for a beat, sighing heavily. 

“You know how I feel about you. That will never change.”

It’s far from a confession, but it’s something. It’s all you’re going to get from him.

When all you give him in response is a faint nod, you could swear you see those deep brown eyes begin to swell, the faintest glimmer or tears brimming as his words sit like dense fog in the air. 

Just then, his commlink beeps faintly from inside his helmet, briefly redirecting Rex’s attention over to where he set it down across the room. It seems like a thousand seconds go by until he finally meets your eyes again, both of you hiding your disappointment. 

“I have to go,” he says quietly, almost a whisper. It’s like he forces the words out, tasting bitter as they leave his mouth. He stares at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something, anything. Maybe he’s waiting for a fruitless argument for him to stay, or one last unnecessary apology – or even one final declaration of your feelings. 

But nothing you could ever say to Rex in this moment would change how the two of you can never be together, would never supersede the duties he feels he has to free his brothers, would never stop the Empire from committing more atrocities, would never stop Rex from fighting.

The words feel just as bitter in your own mouth, even before you can speak them.

“I know.”

#djarrex writes #captain rex x reader #clone thirsting #captain rex smut #rex x reader #captain rex x you

[songofsoma]

sleepless

kinktober day 1: face-sitting

pairing: karlach x f!tav words: 1,374 rating: explicit

read it on ao3

Sleep eluded her tonight, that was for sure. 

Daefina had stared up at the stars for countless hours, hoping their peaceful glow would lull her to sleep. That plan had yet to be wholly successful. Instead, it had left her alone with her thoughts. In particular, thoughts about a certain woman lying next to her. 

Rolling over, she snuggled into Karlach’s side. She was so warm against the chill of the night air filtering through their flimsy tent. Daefina craved her in every aspect. She craved her closeness, to breathe in the faint smell of sulfur and amber that clung to her skin and feel the roughness of her scars as fingertips danced over battered skin. 

Even now, she found herself doing it. The arm draped over her chest trailing the gnarled lines of her shoulder, marking where she had been burnt. The ruggedness of her exterior was a dichotomy of her heart—so loving and tender—that watching Karlach finally live her life as herself only made Daefina fall harder for her every day. 

Daefina turned her face to kiss the unmarred shoulder. She hadn’t planned for her actions to wake Karlach, but slowly she stirred. 

First, she mumbled something entirely incoherent. And after a large yawn, Karlach groaned, “Is it morning already?”

She shook her head, then realized Karlach still hadn’t opened her eyes. “No. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Hm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering open. “Why are you awake then?”

Daefina propped herself up on an elbow to look down at her. “Can’t sleep.”

“Do I need to tire you out?” It only sounded half like a joke. But the way Karlach’s eyes suddenly focused very seriously on her face made her realize the wheels in her brain were already spinning.

“Depends what you have in mind, Sparky,” she teased.

Karlach grinned, teeth glinting in the dark of their tent. “Come ‘ere then,” she prompted, beckoning her closer with a crooked finger. 

Daefina bent down, though it was Karlach who eagerly surged to catch her lips. Large hands cupped her face to draw her in closer. Her tongue swiped against Daefina’s bottom lip, begging to be granted access. Who was she to deny her? 

She was practically lying on top of Karlach in order to kiss her properly. Not that she seemed to mind. In fact, it was further encouraged when Daefina felt an arm slip beneath her and was guided to straddle her. 

Her hair that had long since fallen out of her braids hung around them like a curtain. It was as if they existed in their own little world within the canvas of the tent. Nothing could touch them except each other. 

Karlach’s hands slid up her thighs and beneath the loose tunic she wore to bed. Daefina shivered, even though her touch was like sitting in front of a roaring heart, both in temperature and pleasure. Fingertips played with the hem of her underwear at her hips. 

“Take these off,” she murmured against Daefina’s lips, still refusing to fully break their kiss until the last second. Mournfully, she had to pull away to execute Karlach’s command. 

With a bit of help from Karlach and awkward maneuvering, her panties were tossed to the side.

“Changed my mind. This off too.” She tugged on the nightshirt. 

Swiftly, Daefina stripped it off. Much easier than her bottoms in this position. 

As she perched on Karlach’s hips, straddling her, she couldn’t help but smile under the weight of Karlach’s gaze. Fiery eyes drank in every detail of her as if she were witnessing the sight of Daefina’s body for the first time all over again. It was like this most times. Karlach adored her too much to let any memory go to waste, those were her words. 

Finally, hands squeezed her hips and tugged her forward, much to Daefina’s surprise. 

“You want me to—?”

Her question was cut off by Karlach’s vigorous nodding. All prior evidence that she had been fast asleep moments ago seemed like hours in the past. “Sit on my face? Fuck yeah, I do.”

With a soft laugh, Daefina allowed herself to be guided until her hips hovered over Karlach’s face. She heard her breathe in deeply, unable to stop the blush that flooded her cheeks as Karlach moaned just at the scent of her arousal. 

“No wonder you weren’t able to sleep. Way too worked up.” Thumbs spread open her cunt as she admired just how wet Daefina already was. “Fuck, baby.”

She had no time to form a response before Karlach lifted her head, tongue running up the length of her sex. It elicited a gasp from her. There was not a chance to ground herself on her own, either. Before she knew it, Karlach was pulling her down to fully be flush against her face as her tongue eagerly continued its path.

Daefina couldn’t staunch her cry when her attention focused on her clit. Karlach circled and flicked it with the tip of her tongue until she squirmed. But the iron grip Karlach’s arms had wrapped around her thighs allowed her to go nowhere. She couldn’t slink away from this pleasure, not even when Karlach sucked the swollen bud greedily. 

As she teetered forward, she found herself grasping Karlach’s intact horn for support. It was rough against her palm and the engraved runes pressed into her skin, most likely forming indentations. She didn’t care and instead grasped it for dear life.

In turn, it made Karlach moan as Daefina inadvertently began to guide her movements. Daefina was lost in a blur of pleasure as hips ground against Karlach’s face. 

She took it in stride and adjusted Daefina’s hips so she speared herself on Karlach’s awaiting tongue. 

“Gods, Karlach,” she mewled, blissfully allowing herself to be led to fuck herself with Karlach’s tongue. It was nice having a big, strong girlfriend. It was easy for her to take control when Daefina turned mindless, too wrapped up in her ecstasy to think clearly. And Karlach loved it. 

She loved fucking Daefina so well that she couldn’t think. She loved it when she had to take over, assisting in every move of her hips to allow that satisfaction to continue. But, she also loved what Daefina did when her body just took over. Like now as she ground herself against Karlach, tongue still buried deep inside her. Every roll made Karlach’s nose bump against her clit, intensifying the feeling.

Daefina used her grip on her horn to press herself harder into her, moaning and gasping into the silent night as she clawed her way to the peak. And when her rhythm stuttered, Karlach anchored her in place and lapped at her clit like it was her last meal. 

It was more than enough to send her crashing into a climax.

She trembled and panted as the orgasm electrified every fiber of her being. And as she hunched forward, struggling to recover, Karlach continued to milk out every last bit of pleasure there could be had.

Daefina struggled to even out her breath, slowly coming to her senses again. She had enough to realize she was probably suffocating Karlach and scrambled backward to sit on her chest. Her lover seemed to be in a daze judging by the smile so big it threatened to crack her cheeks and a look of pure adoration in her eyes.

“That was fucking awesome,” she said dreamily. The bottom half of her face glistened and she seemed to be in no rush to clean herself up.

“I don’t know who enjoyed that more. Me or you,” Daefina mused, grabbing her discarded shirt to wipe Karlach’s face. 

“Oh, definitely me. Successfully fulfilled a fantasy I had no idea I had until now.” Her hands fell back onto Daefina’s thighs, not protesting as she was cleaned up. 

She snorted as she slid back down Karlach’s body to straddle her hips once more. “Glad I could help. Though, I’m not sure I can sleep after this.”

Karlach batted her hand away and caught the back of her head, pulling her down into a crushing kiss. “There’s no way I’m letting either of us get any sleep now. That’s a promise.”

#kinktober 2023 #bg3 #my writing #karlach #oc: daefina #bg3 karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x f!tav #bg3 tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #karlach demonsbane #karlach bg3 #karlach baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction

[loversj0y]

our young nation

wilbur soot x gn! reader (note: pronouns are gn but reader is afab)

TWs: WAR, DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, BIRTH, PREGNANCY, ONE LINE ABT PERIODS, TALKS OF ILLNESS, MENTIONS OF DYING, SEMI-REALISTIC APPROACH TO WAR

word count: 10.7k

note: this has not been edited at all. i dont know a lot about war, but i do know hamilton and mockingjay, so. theres that. there's a playlist for this fic as well if you want to listen to what i listened to (also if this formats weirdly lmk and ill post it on ao3). have fun reading :) title is taken from dear theodosia from hamilton fic playlist

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @melunnek

Doing new things was never easy. There were always some hiccups, some strifes, some things that just kept new things from working out just as perfectly as you’d hoped. Not all these hiccups were bad per se, but they were there. Occam’s razor be damned, sometimes things are harder than they are easier. 

Those hiccups might be the death of one Wilbur Soot. Mostly because, in this case, the things occurring lean far more toward the “strife” category than the “hiccup” category. 

Literally. 

The newness of his formed country was refreshing, L’Manburg was already growing to become a beautiful nation, just from the camaraderie seen within its walls. But the beauty of their forming country was contrasted by the growing issues of war and hardships afflicting his citizens. 

So yes, war was hard. New things were hard, but they were often necessary and they often brought new, better things. 

And then, of course, there was the flickering candle light in the middle of the destitute tunnel that categorized war: Love. 

You weren’t originally planning to be involved in the war at all. When Wilbur had come to your door, asking about volunteering for the war, you’d politely turned him down. You made it very clear how much you supported the war efforts, and how, though you couldn’t fight, you’d be willing to help out the war efforts in any way you could. 

Wilbur gave you a charming smile and let you know that your support was greatly appreciated. 

Which was how you became his aid. For the leader of the rebellion, he was rather disorganized, in a literal sense, seen in the numerous papers and half-finished rations littering his desk, as well as a figurative sense, with the desk becoming a mirror image of his own mind. You helped clear the scatter, in both senses. When he’d pass out writing his pages and pages on new injustices committed by the Greater SMP, you’d be there to save his place and clear the desk. 

Eventually, you were able to do far more than just clear the desk; you were able to clear his mind. 

It started in conversations, when he’d ask questions aloud to himself without realizing you were in the room. 

“… and the infractions pushed upon us by the members of the Greater SMP have found my people destitute, destroyed, and… deprived? No, not deprived-“

“Disregarded?” You spoke up from your place standing next to him, where you’d been carefully sorting through old unfinished drafts of his own works. 

“Disregarded?” He looked up at you, giving you a flash of a smile, “Do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” 

You flushed a bit under his gaze. You hadn’t actually meant to offer the word, but it had slipped out before you could stop it, “Yes.”

His smile underwent a simple change, one you’d noticed after observing his speeches and public appearances. His smile went from congressional — purely political and for show — to harboring a sense of community. It was the smile he used when he asked for volunteers. It was the smile he used when he asked people for their grievances. It was the smile he used when he listened to his citizens. It was a smile that could make you feel safe, make you feel heard. “How so? In what ways do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” He asked. It was subtle, the way he tried to say people’s names as often as possible when he spoke to them. There was something in it you recognized; a urge to get the person on your good side and the need to be liked. 

You honestly couldn’t place the words that escaped you next. You had never been particularly political, but there was something about Wilbur Soot that demanded elegance and intelligence, and you felt yourself falling into line with easy compliance. 

“Well, I feel disregarded in the way they command us. They have hurt our people numerous times without giving a second thought, yet they praise kindness and claim to want a peaceful end to this fighting. I feel disregarded in the fact that they claim to understand us, yet they have never spoken to me, let alone the majority of our citizens. I feel disregarded because they don’t even know my name, yet they have burned down my land. I feel disregarded because they refuse to listen to our grievances,” you took a breath as you continued, setting down the pages you’d been shuffling through. “I feel disregarded because even before the war, they did not respect us. I feel disregarded in the ways that they would bring us into their conflicts while they sat there. And most of all, I feel disregarded in the ways they have hurt my people without a care in the world, as if our lives do not matter.”

There was a moment of silence when you’d finished, and you looked back to see the leader of the rebellion giving you a look that you had never seen before upon his face: adoration. His smile fell into something softer, one that you’d seen only in short bursts, reserved for quiet moments Wilbur shared with himself in dark nights alone when he’d finished a piece he was proud of. 

“Well, then,” he smiled at you genuinely, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen. “Disregarded, it is.”

From there, you went from being his aid to his advisor, helping him hone his perfectly crafted speeches. You helped clear his mind. His air of regality as leader of the rebellion kept people from feeling comfortable reaching him, yet you shared none of that sense of bravado. You didn’t want to. People came to you, told you about how they felt as citizens, and it was the biggest help to Wilbur, who no longer felt like he was grasping at straws to make sure his citizens were being heard. 

Throughout it all, the best thing you offered Wilbur was not your mind, but rather your company. 

There were a lot of long nights that Wilbur was used to braving alone, and yet now, you were there to provide him companionship and cure the thoughts that plagued his mind about the future of the war. Wilbur loved watching your mind work on these nights. He would throw up a question into the air, something simple and philosophical, and he would watch as you’d chip away at the question and his subsequent arguments to your own positions. In any other case, it’d have been annoying, but for the both of you, it was akin to mental exercises, a game the two of you shared to keep sharp. It made for a kind distraction over the sounds of silence that plagued empty battlefields still wet with blood. 

These nights were also some of the only nights you’d be able to get Wilbur to take care of himself. Usually, it was after a glass of wine softened him up enough for you to convince him to finish his rations. He had a habit of leaving half, just in case someone else needed something, and he’d been hungrier before so he was sure he could brave it. These were the nights when he’d finally let his wounds show. 

Every battle, regardless of how bad off he was, he would hide any wounds that he couldn’t personally classify as fatal. And he would continue hiding them until they faded, though they never fully did. He always cared so much about appearances, how he needed to look pristine and confident to keep morales high. 

But he didn’t care about that with you. With you, he cared about wit and vulnerability, despite the two having always fallen on opposite doorsteps in his persona. So he’d take off his uniform, leaving him in a simple white undershirt and the slightly baggy black pants he wore underneath. It was the biggest form of physical vulnerability he’d allowed himself in years, and you never overstepped. You’d ignore the bruises and scars littering his arms and faintly poking out from the collar of his undershirt. 

But veiled ignorance could only last so long, and your own care for the man overtook any sense of social conventions. 

“Wilbur,” you looked at him abruptly. You’d been sharing a bottle of wine like you often ended up doing these nights that neither of you could sleep. With each sip, you feel your mind grow anxious at what you’d noticed. Right when he’d taken this uniform shirt off, you quickly noticed the slash in his bicep, crusted with blood and dirt. And while you planned to ignore it like usual, usually he’d at least have cleaned the wound before, and you couldn’t ignore how clearly unattended this wound was. “Did you visit the medic after today’s battle?” 

Wilbur snorted into his glass of wine as he took another sip, “No. No, I did not.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” he started simply, “they had far more pressing matters.” 

You didn’t see the battles. You’d be on the sidelines, with prepared speeches for Wilbur to give in case of any major developments. You always had to be ready, but it came at the consequence of never knowing what truly happened on the battlefield. Wilbur never liked to recount it either, only sharing essential information to save you from hearing about the ways your people were injured. 

But tonight, you wanted to know. His safety was something that concerned you, and if it was so bad that he would threaten his safety, you needed to know. “What was it like today?” You asked quietly, standing as you spoke. 

He watched you as you flitted around the room, pacing the floorboards languidly. “I told you. We lost, but we were able to leave a-“

“No, I know what you told me. ‘The battle was lost, but there were effects put into motion that will be able to help us in the long run.’ I know that. I meant- the- the other stuff, those ‘more pressing matters’ that the nurses had. Stuff like that.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘casualties’ so casually, as if it was not one of your neighbor’s lives your were pushing into a single word. 

He frowned, “I don’t- I really don’t think-“

“Tell me, Wilbur. I need to know.” 

Wilbur sighed slowly, nodding, “Everyone was injured. Some of us less so than others. It… it was Eret. Eret betrayed us, so they knew where we were, they knew we’d be unprepared. It’s better that it’s now, so early in the war, that the traitor is gone now, but… it was at a heavy expense. All of my friends, the ones I dragged into this, they- some of them are still there, in the infirmary. Tubbo nearly died. He-“ Wilbur took in a breath, shuddering, “They said he’ll be okay, but if he was hit any higher, they would’ve punctured his rib, and we would’ve lost him. And- I- We almost lost my brother. Tommy, he-“ there were tears in Wilbur’s eyes as he recounted it, “he took a knife straight to the shoulder. For me. He pushed me out of the way. And it was so close, if he’d been a second earlier, it would’ve gone through his heart.” Wilbur was crying now. It was the first time you’d seen him this vulnerable, this affected by what he’d seen. The horrors that plagued his vision every time he’d close his eyes, yet he closes his eyes now, as he speaks, as if he would find some epiphany lying behind them and not the images of his brother and his brother’s best friend clinging to life. 

“I- I couldn’t visit the medic after that. For this?” He gestured to the slash on his arm, “It felt unworthy of their attention when so many had nearly lost it all.” 

He was still crying, his eyes pressed tightly together as if doing so would click some button to erase the memories of what he’d seen on the battlefield. You moved forward, pressing his head into your stomach and wrapping your arms around him gently. He cried against you, soft and shuddering as if his body was still afraid to acknowledge or speak about what he’d seen. 

“I- I watched someone die. Someone on our side, I-“ he sobbed softly, “I held him as his breathing faded. His last words, he-“ Wilbur buried his face further against you, “He told me ‘Wilbur, make it worth it. If this is it for me, do not let it be in vain. Free our country and win.’” Wilbur panted quietly as he let the final words of a fellow solider fade into the quiet of the night. “I just- I can’t let him down. I let a man die for my cause. His blood is on my hands. And Y/N… it doesn’t look good right now. I know I said Eret’s betrayal is good for the future since the traitor is gone, but I- I don’t know what he knows. He could guide them back here tomorrow and slaughter us all in our sleep. So I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t let our people down, they- they didn’t ask for this. I keep- I keep wondering if I just should’ve kept quiet. If we could’ve been happy just living under SMP’s rule.” His admission did not escape him easily, echos of gasping sobs filling the room as he clung onto the fabric of your shirt. Neither of you spoke at first, letting his tears slow to a near stop in order to help him preserve the fragility of his mind. 

“Wilbur,” you spoke softly once you felt the moment was right, “No one was happy before. You cannot fault yourself for giving us a chance. I know you feel responsible for the bloodshed, and I know how it makes you feel like you’re clinging onto some shadow of death that follows you. But if you were the only one who wanted freedom for our country, there would be no rebellion. You’d just be another man standing on the end of a street, searching for someone to listen to you. We support this cause because we not only believe in the importance of our freedom, but because we believe in you, Wilbur. We cannot have our leader be made a martyr because where would that leave us? This cause would fall apart without you. And I know you are afraid, but we are all afraid. You are allowed to be afraid of uncertainty. Your people are putting their lives on the line’s because the believe the end, even their ends, will justify the means. You cannot consider falling back onto your fears now. I’m so sorry for what you saw. I know how horrifying it must’ve been. But that man let you hold him as he died, you brought him comfort in those final moments because you promised a better future for his family, his people. You have inspired people, Wilbur. You inspired me. You took a single thought, an idea, and you turned it into something real, something tangible, a cause that we not only believe in, but one that we fight for, and we will continue to fight for.” You let out a soft sigh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, “Wilbur, I know you feel like the world is crumbling around you because of how scary everything is right now. But you are not alone. If your world is crumbling, it is crumbling for me too?” you sighed once more, “this is all just a long winded way for me to ask, Wilbur, please, will you let me patch your wound?” 

He didn’t reply to any specific part of your response, just giving a curt nod and lowering his arms. You both knew that you didn’t just mean the wound on his arm, but that you were attempting to reach out and help him patch the rifts in his mind. 

You grabbed the spare first aid kit, returning to your place in front of him as you set down the kit.

“It’s really not that bad,” he sighed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wilbur, I have always trusted your judgement for everything, but I think we have finally found the exception,” you chuckled softly, gently taking his arm in your hands to inspect the wound. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight, but it could certainly be worse.

“Really? This marks the exception? Not the hundreds of times I’ve asked you if something sounds right or if people would agree with something I’ve said?”

You nodded, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, “Yep, this is it. Uncertainty is not having bad judgement, it’s just the acknowledgement that you can’t do things alone. Which is true, none of us can.” You smiled lightly, pressing the cotton to his arm to clean the wound. 

He hissed softly in pain as you cleaned the wound, speaking only once you’d finished, “I can’t,” he spoke quietly. “I can’t do things alone. I’m very grateful to have you.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you reached for a salve to spread onto his wound. “I’m grateful as well. You keep me stable with all this craziness going on.” 

He watched as you opened the salve, getting a generous amount onto your fingers to lightly spread over the slash, “I can say the same. I would’ve fallen into disarray by now without you.” 

Your flush darkened, and you started to wrap his arm quietly. You didn’t speak until you’d finished wrapping his arm completely. 

“There,” you spoke softly, tying off the bandage, “Now, you won’t get an infection and fall ill. Goodness knows we don’t have the medicine for preventable illness anyways,” you chuckled, trying to make light of things.

Wilbur smiled as well, but he seemed a bit further in thought. You grabbed the kit once more and went to return it to its place, but Wilbur’s hand wrapped lightly around your wrist and kept you from turning. 

“Wilbur?” you asked softly.

“I-” he had a flush on his cheek, and there was a beat of waiting before he finally looked up at you. He had a look filled with adoration and appreciation. But there was something else in his gaze, something softer. More warm. Something you would come to know as love. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his thumb lightly caressing where it rested on your wrist. 

You had to refrain from gaping at him as you processed his question. You had always found the rebel attractive, but you’d never considered the legitimacy of pursuing a relationship with a man who seemed far out of your league. With bated breath you nodded, and he leaned up to pull you into him.

The kiss felt far more gentle than it should have. For all the desperation and wanting that lived within it, the kiss was soft and slow, familiarizing one another with each crack in our lips. It didn’t develop further, there was no rapid increasing of intensity, the kiss remained as gentle as the glow from the candles around the room until you pulled away slowly. 

You both stared at one another for a long moment, attempting to memorize each freckle and blemish that adored war-torn faces. He was the one to speak up first.

“Y/N? Would you stay with me? Just for tonight?” 

You nodded your agreement, and you both shared a mutual understanding in the lie he allowed spill from his lips.

As the war continued, you found yourself making a permanent residence in Wilbur’s bed and home. The war was taking longer than anyone expected, a double-edged sword in the how our troops still lived, yet so did Greater SMP’s. Morale was low for everyone, but you kept your spirits high in fire-warmed rooms in Wilbur’s arms. 

“Do you think our people need something to boost their spirits?” He’d asked one day, your head resting on his chest and a hand loosely playing with your hair.

“Hm,” you thought, looking up at him, “I think it would be good, yeah. What are you thinking? A festival?”

He hummed, and as you inspected his face, you noticed the nerves lining his expression. It wasn’t an uncommon sight these days, his worries about the war leeching into every moment of the day. But usually, the anxiousness was far more faded by this time of night, even if it never fully left his gaze. 

“Not a festival,” he spoke, shifting and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, speaking softer, “I was thinking a wedding.”

You sat up, gasping softly, “Will-”

“I was going to wait until after the war,” he spoke, sitting up across from you. “But I’m terrified that I won’t get to. I’d rather die knowing you were mine than knowing I never got to at least ask you.”

“Wilbur,” you grabbed onto both of his cheeks, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. You understood where his fears came from, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you shared in the same sentiment. Every day that the troops returned, your heart waited to beat in fear until you saw his face. You didn’t want to wait either. 

You pulled away, wrapping arms tightly around his neck as you rested your forehead against his. 

“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, a grin ghosting over his lips.

You laughed, holding onto him tighter, “Yes, Wilbur, absolutely.” 

He laughed as well, his arms coming to wrap tightly around you. He kissed the side of your head as he spoke, “We- it probably won’t get to be a big wedding because we’re so low on resources, but if you want something big, we can absolutely have a second ceremony after, and-”

“Wilbur, our wedding could be in a mud field in our pajamas with a chicken, and I would still be satisfied. All that matters to me is being able to call you mine forever.”

He gave you a grin like you hung the stars in the sky before pulling you in for a loving kiss and putting a small ring onto your finger.

The wedding planning went over quickly. You weren’t planning anything fancy whatsoever, but it still needed to be enough of an event for your people to have time to relax. Everyone wanted to help out as well. Once you woke up the next morning after Wilbur’s proposal, it seemed as if the whole country knew already, with people coming to congratulate you and Wilbur as you both walked through town. Just the sense of community in everyone’s offering to help out with the wedding seemed to brighten everyone throughout the country. 

You and Wilbur actually had two ceremonies. The first one was for the two of you and your families, a small dinner and ceremony to allow you to have an intimate and private wedding. It was gorgeous, and so incredibly worth it. The second one was the ceremony for the people. It wasn’t a lavish affair, though your wedding attire was some of the most beautiful things either of you had seen in months. It was a subdued wedding, but it was making the most out of what you had. Lots of fresh cut flowers from the countryside, Niki baked a cake, and a real, full meal made for everyone. 

You felt tense in your fancy wedding outfit. Even if it wasn’t the height of luxury, it felt more stiff than anything else you’d worn in months. But there was a point to all of it. It was an event, something for people to care about. Something to get on their minds instead of residual fear about the next battle. You were glad for private affair you’d been able to have the night before, because this felt more like playing the role of the Leader’s Partner rather than actually being his partner. 

“Hey,” you heard softly from behind you, turning as you watched Wilbur sneak in. He paused when he saw you, staring in awe.  “You look so lovely,” he smiled, walking over to you and taking your hands in his.

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled, pulling him forward for a short kiss. “You ready to get betrothed a second time?”

He laughed, holding you a bit closer, “I am. I’d marry you every day if I could.”

You smiled shyly up at him, moving to wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, “I love you so much.”

He kissed the top of your head, smiling, “I love you too, darling.”

You sighed and relaxed into the hug, letting your eyes slip shut. You moved your hands down to his sides, frowning when you felt a small box in his pocket. 

“Wilbur,” you started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small box of cigarettes, “What are you doing with these?”

He frowned, a shameful look on his face, “I haven’t smoked any, don’t worry. I’m just- I’m anxious, so I got them in case.”

You nodded, biting your lip with a frown, “If you’re anxious, you know you can come to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-” he sighed, “I’m anxious about you, is the thing.”

You frowned, setting the cigarettes down on the table behind you, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, sitting down on a small stool across from you, “I’m nervous that when word travels about the marriage, they’ll look down on the legitimacy of our country. I think it’s good, I think they’ll think we’re less concerned than we really are, however… I’m worried I’m placing a target on your back.” 

You nodded softly, “Wilbur, I’ve had a target on my back since I chose to stand with our country,” you moved forward, giving him a gentle kiss, “I understand the concern, and I know the risks. But I’m not letting those risks outweigh the joy of being married to you. If they go for me, I can handle it. I know I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Plus, they won’t kill me. If I’m valuable to you, they wouldn’t dare.”

He took your hand in his again, squeezing it gently, “thank you, darling,” he sighed, holding you close. “I won’t let them take you anyways. You’re too precious to me.”

You chuckled softly, lightly pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s go get married, then. The best fuck you we can give them is our love.”

He grinned and chuckled, nodding softly, “Let’s go get married.”

The wedding was a bright affair. The actual marriage part was quick and sweet, vows that you had both prepared together, nothing as genuine as the words spoken the night before. It was sweet regardless, promises of loving each other in the darkest of times that rang true in an audience of war-stricken dreamers. The best part of the wedding was the reception. Everyone was up, dancing and singing along to the music being shared, and the entire tarp over the field was covered in the most beautiful lights and flowers. You had a proper first dance with Wilbur before the dancing became more lively. You spent most of the night sitting with Wilbur and watching your people dance and laugh and drink. 

“It’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” You smiled, looking over at him.

He nodded, “It is. I’m glad to see everyone smiling and happy.” “And drunk.”

He laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, that too.”

You smiled, holding his hand quietly. You stared at the ring on your finger. It was simple, but it was absolutely gorgeous. A simple gold band with a small chiselled diamond in the centre. The diamond was crafted from a piece that had chipped off of Wilbur’s sword when he taught you the basics of parrying hits. The engagement ring lay below it, a thinner silver ring with a small emerald that you recognized as coming from one of Wilbur’s ventures to a further village. The rings weren’t lavish, but you preferred them more like this. They were far more meaningful like this. Symbols of your love both in their meaning and their crafting. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked him softly. 

“Of course, darling.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “In our vows, we both mentioned honesty, so I want you to be honest with me right now. I know this isn’t the place to ask, but… what do you think our chances of winning are?” 

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I don’t think it matters how big or small our chances are. I think what matters is that we have a chance. If we didn’t, we would’ve failed a long time ago.”

You nodded softly, “You see it, though? The future where we win?”

He looked over at you, a wide smile on his face, “I see it as clearly as I see you now. I see our fields free from the blood they currently harbor. Instead, they’re filled with flowers that grew up from the bloodshed. Crimson turned crimson. The kids run around, free of fear of an incoming bomb. My brother runs with them, and he no longer acts so grown up; he’s allowed to be a kid again. I see a memorial for those we lost, for all that was sacrificed. I see our citizens in parades, every year for our independence, they sing and dance, just like this. It’s like… the war is the night, the cold and harsh conditions that brutalize us and break us down into nothing more than human. But independence? It’s warm. It’s laying in the sun in a field with you. It’s our flag waving high on a summer day. It’s the laughter of children, it’s the joy of the future. It’s us. Our future. A memory garden adorned with flowers and the knowledge that we will never return to the Great War because we not only survived, but we persisted.”

“It’s daylight,” you smiled, and he gave you a grin so bright it felt like basking in it.

“It’s daylight.”

The weeks after the wedding remained lively for the most part. The morale boost helped the troops improve, and the battles didn’t seem as tough. There was an underlying fear that the SMP troops were holding back for some reason, but for the most part, everything seemed to be going good.

Until one morning.

Winter had begun, and with it, hardships improved. Illness was rampant, and while no one had fallen fatally ill yet, everyone was afraid. 

Wilbur didn’t expect you to be next on the list of ill. 

He was in the living room when you woke up that day. You stood slowly, but as you stood, you were hit with a wave of nausea and vertigo. You nearly collapsed before making it to the trash to throw up the contents of your empty stomach. You leaned over the trash and within moments, Wilbur was at your side, keeping your hair out of your face and rubbing your back.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You coughed weakly, spitting into the trash, “Do I seem okay, Wilbur?” You huffed, before sighing. “Sorry, I just- I hate throwing up.”

He nodded softly, “It’s alright, I get it, here,” he carefully helped you up back into bed before rushing to grab some water. He handed you the glass, and you drank it quickly, sighing softly. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, moving to your side to wrap an arm around you.

“No, I just stood up and- yeah,” you sighed, leaning your head against him, “You shouldn’t be close, I may be sick.”

He frowned, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to call for the doctor, okay?”

You nodded softly, and he was rushing to get the doctor within seconds. They came back a few minutes later, and the doctor was quick to check over you.

“Your temperature is a bit high,” they hummed, “But other than that and the throwing up, I’m not seeing any other major symptoms. It could be stress. I would take it easy for the next few days, see if it improves. If nothing’s changed in a week, we can check for more, alright?”

You nodded softly, sighing quietly. Wilbur grabbed your hand gently before walking the doctor out, sharing hushed words.

When he returned, he got back into bed next to you, “They don’t think it’s anything serious. They said it’s likely just a mild fever, not like the flu going around out there.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’ll be alright.”

“You will be,” he nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t stay to watch you too much this week, but I can get Niki, if you want.”

“Wilbur, I don’t think I need to be watched,” you chuckled.

“I know you don’t need it,” he hummed, “but I want someone to be here with you. I don’t want you to collapse and have no one be here for you.”

You sighed softly, nodding, “Okay. If you don’t need her for anything this week, then I don’t mind. I like spending time with Niki.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently, “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

The same thing happened throughout the week. Wilbur would help you in the morning when the nausea hit, and then Niki would swap out with him when he had to go help out his people. The nausea usually lasted the whole day, but the vertigo and lightheadedness only seemed to last in the morning. You managed to eat small meals, and with Niki’s baking, she brought you a lot of small snacks. 

It was one of these days that you had a theory. The final day of the week, there was a major battle, so Niki would spend the whole day with you while Wilbur went out to fight. It was nerve wracking knowing that he would be out there and you were stuck in your bedroom, but you figured it wasn’t that much different from the other days, you supposed.

“Niki,” you spoke up from your place on the bed. She was sat across from you, working on a small knitting project. The troops had just head out for the battle. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” she asked, looking up at you.

“Did a doctor stay behind? Or did all of them head out?”

She thought for a moment, “There’s two here with us. One for the ill, and one preparing things for when the others return.”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment, “Could you call one of them here for a moment?”

She frowned, concern lacing her brow, “Yeah, of course, but, why? Are you not feeling well again?”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip quietly, looking away for a moment, “Can you keep a secret, Niki?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase your next statement, “I… skipped this month.”

She gave you a look of confusion, before her eyes widened as realization hit, “Oh. Oh! Do you think-?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. And I don’t want to get Wilbur’s hopes up either, just in case. But… I think so.”

She gave you a grin, nodding quickly as she stood, “I’ll go grab one of the doctors, I’ll be right back!”

She rushed out, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You were nervous about the implications. You wanted to start a family with Wilbur, of course, but neither of you were planning for it to happen yet. You’d agreed to wait until after the war. War is no place to raise a child.

The doctor came in, and she gave you a gentle smile. Niki waited outside as you spoke with the doctor, and you did a quick exam. 

“Well,” the doctor gave you a soft smile, “I think your theory may be correct, Y/N.”

“You think?”

“Well, I know. You’re correct. You’re pregnant.”

She had a soft grin on her face as she confirmed your theory, as if it was not news that changed the entire trajectory of your future. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” you gave her a soft smile right back, trying to let your worries ease into the back of your mind until Wilbur returned. 

“Of course. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. For the next few months, just try to relax. I know it’ll be tough given our circumstances, but you have the support of the entire country holding you up, alright?”

You nodded silently. 

“I’ll do another exam in a month to make sure everything is going well, and we can arrange for monthly visits. If you have any questions just let me know, and so other than that, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and she left soon after. 

Niki returned, a subdued smile on her face, “So?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

She grinned, rushing to your side and taking your hand in hers, “Oh, that’s lovely! Wilbur’s going to be so excited, are you going to tell him tonight?”

“I think so,” you smiled softly, “I imagine it’d be hard to keep it from him.”

It was hard to keep it from him. But not through your own admission, rather because news of the doctor visiting your home traveled quick among those who’d stayed behind. That night, Wilbur rushed in to see you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He called out, rushing up to see you and hold you in a tight hug. He looked worse for wear, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks stained with dirt. 

“Yes, love, I’m alright, why?” You hugged him back tightly, nerves and knowledge filling your chest.

“I- I heard a doctor came in today,” he pulled away to inspect your face, holding your cheeks gently, “Did something happen?”

“No, no,” you smiled softly, “I’m okay, I’m good, actually. We figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay.”

He let out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to yours gently, “Darling, you scared me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled softly, “How was the fight?”

He tensed, and you frowned.

“It was… it wasn’t good,” he sighed, and your heart dropped, “We ambushed them like we planned, but they were stronger. We didn’t get to take out as many of them as we wanted to before they noticed us, so we were outnumbered.”

You nodded softly, “Were you successful in stealing supplies, though?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Not as much as we wanted to, but enough to make it hurt.”

“That’s good,” you smiled back at him, “Are you injured? Did you see the medic?”

He shook his head, “a few scratches and a burn from a flaming arrow, but it’s not bad. It’s on my shoulder.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Go take a bath, and I’ll wrap it. And then, I have something important to talk to you about.”

He tilted his head, “What is it?”

“Nope, not yet. Go clean up first,” you chuckled softly, “That takes priority.”

He rolled his eyes, grin falling on his face easily, “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched as he went to go clean up. You could have told him then, but it was more for your sake than his that you wanted to wait. You had to get your mind together first, especially now knowing he was okay. 

He returned not long after, face and hands scrubbed clean of dirt and soot. He was wearing a white tank top with his sleep pants, and he had the med kit in his hand as he sat down next to you.

You hissed softly as you saw the burn, gently taking his arm in your hand, “Wilbur, this is worse than you described.”

He waved it off, sighing, “It just got irritated from the water. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You gave him a look of disbelief as you stared at the burn. It was bright red and angry, skin slightly charred and bubbled. There was a slight cut in the middle of it from where the arrow must’ve passed through. You sighed sofly, grabbing the disinfectant. 

“Hold onto my arm, this is going to sting,” you told him softly, and he did as you said. Once you passed the disinfectant over the burn, he hissed in pain, squeezing your shoulder. You continued cleaning the wound until it was satisfactory, You grabbed the burn cream and delicately spread it over the wound, and slowly, his pained noises lessened. 

“I’m not going to wrap it just yet, it needs to breathe for a while, okay?”

He nodded, sighing and pulling his hand away, “Will I be able to cover it tomorrow?”

You frowned, “You shouldn’t. But I know you will, so I’ll wrap it tomorrow.”

He nodded again, grabbing the med kit and returning it to its space in your bathroom.

“So,” he said, sitting down in front of you, “You said you have something important to share?”

“Yeah, so,” you sighed softly, taking his hand gently, “It’s about the doctor visit. I had the doctor come over today because I wanted to talk to her about us starting a family.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Okay. I thought we were planning to wait, though?”

You nodded, “I know, but… would you… be upset if we didn’t?”

He chuckled, “Not at all, darling,” he smiled, “it wouldn’t be ideal, but that’s more due to my own selfishness. I want to be here for every second of it, and I don’t know if I can right now. But I wouldn’t be upset about it. Do you… want to?”

You bit your lip, taking his hand and placing it over your stomach. “Wilbur,” you looked up at him, “I don’t know if we have much of a choice anymore.”

He gave you a concerned look, frowning, “Why not? Did- did something happen? If you’re not able to, we could always look into adoption, or-”

“No, Will,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “It’s not like that. It’s, uh, it’s the opposite, actually.” You gave him a soft grin.

He looked confused for a moment longer before a wide grin crossed his face, “Wait. Do you- do you mean?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I had a theory with all the sickness in the morning. So, I talked to the doctor, and… I think our family will be coming a lot sooner than we’d planned for.”

He grinned, tears springing to his eyes, “You’re serious? You’re-”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” You were grinning as well, and finally getting to tell him felt like the first breath of air after diving into the deep end.

“Oh, darling,” he spoke, pulling you into a tight hug, “Oh, I- we’re going to have a kid.”

You nodded, chuckling through the tears of joy that hit your cheeks. “Yeah, we’re going to have a kid.”

He grinned, holding you tightly, “Fundy’s going to have a sibling! Darling, this is amazing. I know we wanted to wait, but I don’t care. I have so much more to fight for now. So much more to come home for.”

You kissed him, holding onto him like a lifeline, “The war’s not done. But this. This is why we fight. As long as you’re home at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

He grinned at you, “I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you. We’re so lucky, even if it���s just being alive right now. This is all we need.”

You smiled lovingly at him, “We are so fucking lucky. And I am so excited for this. They’re blessed to have you as their father.”

“They’re blessed to have you as well,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

That night, neither of you went to sleep concerned over a failed fight. Instead, you dreamt of the bright future you’d be bringing your child into. 

Family and close friends were the first to know. You told them two days later, during an impromptu family meeting that Wilbur had called. Everyone was incredibly elated, though Tommy’s excitement probably took the cake, as he was practically screaming his congratulations. 

The rest of country learned fairly soon after. About a month later, even though you’d only slightly began showing and could certain continue to hide it for a while, neither of you wanted to. It was a joy to share with the country, and the celebration that followed was bright and lively, a night-long glimpse into a wonderful future. 

It wasn’t always easy, though. Wilbur hated how he couldn’t stay by your side, taking care of your every need. You hated how lonely some nights were, when the battles lasted longer than usual or they had to prepare for a midnight ambush. The worst part of those nights was the fear, overwhelming and keeping you stationary in Wilbur’s office or your bedroom. Not knowing if your husband would return hurt more than anything else in the world. 

You were six months in when he came home exhausted in early morning light. He didn’t speak to you at first, giving you a kiss before going to wash up. You waited anxiously for him to return, and when he did, he returned shirtless with a med kit in hand. He sat down in front of you with a sigh, turning around so you could see the large gash running down his shoulder. 

“Wilbur,” you gasped softly, “this is really long.”

“It’s not that deep. Didn’t even realize it was there until I went to wash up.” He sighed.

You frowned, starting to patch him up quickly. 

He spoke to distract himself, “Do you think we’re going to have a girl or a boy?”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not sure. They could be nonbinary as well.”

“True,” he hummed, “if they do come out as nonbinary, we’ll let them choose their own name. But we do still need to choose a name.”

“That’s true,” you hummed, carefully disinfecting his wound, “We should prepare for both.”

“I agree,” he responded, though his words came out through a clenched jaw. 

“So what are you thinking, then?” 

“Hm, I’m not sure about for a boy. But I do have a name picked out for a girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled, starting to carefully apply the salve to the wound, “What is it?”

“Tallulah,” he smiled softly, “What do you think?”

“That’s gorgeous. I love it.” You set the rest of the salve down, picking up the bandages. 

“I’ve always loved it. I’m really glad you like it as well.”

You directed him to hold his arm up so you could wrap his wound, “It’s beautiful. What about a boy?”

He hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“We could always do Wilbur Jr.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “God, no. I’d sooner name them after Tommy.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I mean, Thomas would be a good middle name.”

“It would, actually,” he smiled softly. “For a boy, though… Julius could be nice. Or maybe Cornelius.”

You hummed, “Those have a good ring to it. Julius Thomas Soot. Cornelius Thomas Soot.”

“They do. We can think more about it, I suppose. We have time.”

“We do have time,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder as you finished the bandage. 

He turned, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your chest, pressing a kiss to the baby bump. You moved a hand to gently play with his hair. 

“It was bad today?” You asked softly.

He sighed, “Bad would be an understatement.” 

You nodded softly, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you think we’re bad people? For bringing a kid into this?” He asked softly.

You frowned, “No. I don’t.”

He nodded, holding you a bit tighter. After a moment, he spoke softly, “I’m really scared for them.”

You brushed through his hair with your hand, “Why?”

“I’m going to be honest, it… it doesn’t look good right now. They keep getting stronger and smarter, and I don’t know how to fight them. I’m scared we’re bringing our child into a failing country, and I’m scared I can’t protect you or them if worse comes to worse.” 

“I understand. I’m scared too. But, love… we can’t really do anything now. We just have to try to give this child the best life we can, no matter the circumstances. Even if they’re the worst case scenario.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know. I just… I feel like I fucked up with Fundy. I was too young at the time, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes. And if I’m focused on fighting a war, I won’t be able to be there for them, the same way I wasn’t there for Fundy. I’m scared of being a bad father again.”

“I don’t think you will be,”  you spoke softly, “and you’re not alone this time. You have me. They won’t be alone if you’re not there. I’ll be here.”

He nodded softly, looking up at you, “Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off.

“I get it. I’m scared too. I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention I’m terrified of giving birth. But I’m scared of making mistakes because I didn’t know until I met you if I would ever have a kid. I’m glad I am, don’t get me wrong, but I never expected to be ready for something like this. Honestly, I still don’t know if I’m ready. I’m terrified, Wilbur. But I have you. I’m not alone.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss you gently, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you spoke softly, kissing him back gently, “Let’s get some rest, now, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded softly. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t take long before he fell asleep, leaving you alone with thoughts of uncertainty until sleep took over.

As you entered the last month of the pregnancy, things were starting to look up. 

Kind of.

While the recent battles had been lost, Wilbur had a plan.

“Darling, I think I’ve figured it out,” he grinned, standing from his desk and walking to the couch you sat on.

“What is it?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“I’ve figured out how we win. Tubbo’s been spying for us, as you know, and he brought me this document yesterday, and I couldn’t see the significance! I was being an idiot, but I knew it didn’t make sense for them to have an entire document detailing how they make their uniforms.” He grinned, and you tilted your head.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a cypher. Darling, it was a code! And I- I figured it out. I know their plans.” He had a manic look in his eye, and you couldn’t help but perk up at the excitement in his tone.

“Love, have you slept?”

“Barely, I couldn’t sleep much because I kept thinking about this stupid fucking document. But darling, we know everything now. We know exactly where they’re going to be and when. We can win, we- we can do this.”

You grinned, but the anxiety still filled your chest at the idea, “You’re sure about this?”

“I- I mean, I think. I figured out the code, and it all makes sense.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to think of the most likely possibility. That they knew. That this was a fake document.

“Darling, I thought you’d be more excited,” he frowned, catching onto your anxiety. 

“No, no, I am, just… Wilbur, what if they did it on purpose? What if they let him get a document planted just to feed you incorrect information?”

He nodded, thinking quietly. “I trust in it. And I think it may be a risk we have to take.”

You gaped at him, “Wilbur, you could be marching our troops directly into a trap.”

“I know, I know, but,” he sighed, “I have a good feeling about this, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think we have any other choice. Without this, we have nothing.”

You nodded softly, “... you trust it? That- that this isn’t a plant?”

“Yes.”

“And how certain are you?”

He bit his lip, “Mostly certain. It’s the best chance we’ll have, and we have to move fast, their plans start tomorrow.”

You nodded, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Okay. If-if you’re sure. I trust you.”

He hugged you back tightly, and you tried not to think about the fact that he hugged you like it may be the last time, “I love you so much, darling. Don’t worry, okay? This time tomorrow, we’ll be free people.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his arms around you, “I love you too.” You pulled him in for a loving kiss, sighing softly. 

“Go rally your troops.”

Wilbur did just that. He left shortly and brought the plan to all the generals, all the soldiers, everyone he could. He was buzzing with excitement when he returned that night, holding you close as he lied with you in bed, one hand gently resting over your belly. 

“We’re leaving before the sun is up,” he told you softly.

“Will you be back when I wake up?”

He shook his head, “No. But we’ll be back for dinner for sure.”

You smiled softly, holding him closer, “We’ll have a celebratory dinner. Extra special.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, “Extra special?”

“Absolutely. Because we won’t just be celebrating the win. We’ll be celebrating your new role as President.”

He flushed softly, “You think?”

You nodded, “I’ve heard the people speak. They trust you, Wilbur. And I know you’ll make a great president. You’ll create a great place for our child to grow up in.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly, then your cheek.

“Plus,” you hummed, “President Soot does have a good ring to it.”

He smirked, blushing once more, “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so, Mr. President,” you grinned as he leaned up, lips hovering above yours. 

“That does sound nice. Though I may be biased,” he pecked your lips gently, a smirk still ghosting on his lips.

“How so?”

“Well, I think any words that escape your lips are just as gorgeous as the lips they escape from,” he spoke softly, pulling you into a languid and loving kiss. You kissed him back just as passionately, letting the intensity quell your fears about his return tomorrow. 

Wilbur was gone when you woke up the next morning, which you expected. What you didn’t expect was for lunchtime to have been such a bleak affair. You expected much more liveliness from your people, especially given how much Wilbur believed in the plan. But the streets were quiet. There were only hushed words as you walked through town to find a meal, and it seemed as if many people were directing those hushed words towards you.

“Did something happen?” You asked the merchant after you finished your meal.

She gave you a frown, a tense look appearing on her brow, “You haven’t heard?” You felt your heart sinking as you shook your head. 

She sighed, looking down for a moment before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry, uh…” she took a deep breath before speaking, “one of the generals was supposed to come back to check in at noon. They haven’t returned.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded quietly, “Well, that- that doesn’t mean anything specific yet. Have we heard anything at all from the battlefield?”

She shook her head solemnly, and you nodded once more.

“Alright, well, ah, thank- thank you,” you stuttered out, before rushing away to find the basecamp quarters. You started feeling a pain as you walked, but you didn’t allow yourself to focus on it as you ripped open the tarp to the camp, finding the entire place… empty. It felt like a ghosttown.

You swallowed down the bile that rose in your throat, rushing back home. The pain continued as you walked, and your legs shook stubbornly as you trekked home. You couldn’t tell if the pain was even real, or if it was a side effect of the desperation and doom that filled your heart. As you reached your home, you collapsed against the front door, holding onto the door frame as a groan of pain escaped you. Before you knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet you.

When you woke, you weren’t on the ground. You found yourself in an uncomfortable cot, pain wracking through your body as you failed to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the doctor spoke, coming to help you sit up. You were sweating, and she carefully placed a cold wet cloth to the top of your forehead. 

“What’s- what’s going on? Where’s Wilbur?” You stifled a groan as you spoke. 

“He’s not back yet, none of the troops are. And you’re okay, you passed out when your water broke. You’re going into labor.”

“Fuck,” you hissed out, panting softly. You noticed now the dressing gown you wore, your original clothes laying folded in a pile in the corner. 

“Take some deep breaths for me, you’re doing great, okay?” She instructed, and you nodded, taking a moment to just focus on your breathing.

“What- what time is it?” You asked in between breaths.

“It’s about to be seven.” She told you, turning as she sorted through medical supplies. 

Wilbur should’ve been back by now. You didn’t know if you could do this without him. 

“Your contractions are coming in about every five minutes, and they’re lasting about a minute. You’re not quite there yet, so you have time, alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, placing a hand over your belly as you prayed to any god that would listen that your husband would be returning to you in one piece, in time for him to meet his child. You’d never felt so alone at such a worse time. You had no midwife, no friends, no husband, just your doctor to guide you through this. 

It was another hour before it was time. You didn’t want it to be, you wanted Wilbur. 

“You’re dilated,” the doctor informed you, grim as you shared a thought on the lack of troops returning, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to start pushing.”

You shook your head, “No, I- I need to wait, please.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” She took your hand in hers, “We still have time, but you need to start.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew you couldn’t.

The sound of you yelling in pain during the next contraction was masked with another sound.

Yelling, first. 

Then, the singing. 

And finally, cheering.

It was only a minute later when heard the sound grow, of your people, cheering and singing in the streets outside. It was two minutes later when a medic rushed in, a smile on their face.

“They’re back!” They announced, before rushing to tell whoever they could.

You fought through another contraction as your heart lifted, panic filling you.

“Wilbur,” you spoke weakly, “Wilbur, please, please, find- find Wilbur.”

The doctor looked at you in concern, biting her lip for a moment. 

“Okay. Okay, yes, hold on, let me- I’ll go try to find him, just hold on.”

You nodded rapidly as the doctor rushed out, going to find Wilbur. You gripped the sides of the cot as you groaned in pain, trying desperately to focus on your breathing. 

When she returned, she was alone, “I-I couldn’t find him, but they’re saying he’s alive, don’t worry, okay?”

You let out a breath of relief, head falling back for a moment as you relaxed just as much as you could. She guided you through a few more contractions before you heard the most beautiful sound. 

“Darling?!” You heard Wilbur yell, and you heard his voice get closer with each word, “Excuse me, please, hold on, Y/N!” He ripped open the door, gasping in relief once he saw you.

“Darling, oh my god,” he rushed in, coming in quickly to hold your hand tightly and place his other hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as he turned to the doctor, “How far along are they?”

“Breached,” the doctor informed, “Should be any minute now.”

He nodded, and you looked at him, “Will, I was so- fuck- I was so worried.”

He cooed, brushing your hair back, “It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here now. Darling,” he grinned, eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his hand and groaned in pain. 

“Darling,” he spoke again once the moment had passed, “We- we did it. We won. We’re free.”

You gasped, pulling him into you, “Oh, my god,” you couldn’t fight the tears that fell from your cheeks, “We won?”

He nodded quickly, kissing the top of your head, “We won.”

You let out a sob of relief and joy, but it was quickly masked by another yell of pain.

“You’ve got this, darling, I’m here, we’re free, you can do this,” he told you, holding you close. 

“It’s a girl,” the doctor spoke softly. Wilbur was with you on the cot now, and you both were exhausted for different reasons, but both with joyous outcomes. She brought your daughter over to you, the newborn swaddled carefully. 

You gasped quietly when you saw her, taking her gently in your arms as you leaned against Wilbur. You looked up at him, tears in both of your eyes. He kissed you gently before looking back down at your daughter.

“Tallulah Soot,” he spoke softly, “Welcome to the free nation of L’Manburg.”

You chuckled, though it was slightly muffled from your tears. “The first citizen to be born under a free rule,” you spoke softly, a finger gently stroking her cheek, “Because we won.”

“We won,” Wilbur parroted, disbelief clouding his voice. 

She woke both of you up early with her cries. You held her in your arms as the early morning light poured in slowly, and as you rocked her, Wilbur sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder. 

Her cries softened, and as her big eyes stared up at you, you decided to tell her a story.

“Now, Ms. Lulah,” you spoke softly, “You won’t know this for a few years. But you were born during a very special time. Your father was amazing, he commanded a whole army of people.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, kissing your head, “You were born to two amazing people. One a commander, and one his political advisor who won his heart with their wit and brevity behind closed doors.”

You chuckled, smiling warmly, “Yes, even though he was a disorganized wreck when I met him. Every year, Ms. Lulah, there will be a parade on your birthday. Do you know why?”

Wilbur smiled fondly, “I don’t think she does.”

“Well, then I’ll tell her,” you hummed softly. You looked up, staring out in an empty field, filled with beautiful red flowers as the morning light softly reflected on dew drops that slept on grass. “Because, you, Ms. Lulah, were born on the day your father and our people fought to ensure your freedom. More importantly, you were born on the day they won.”

She let out a soft giggle – the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard – and you grinned lovingly, staring out at that field once more, that never again, would harbor the same bloodshed. As the sun poured in, you could see in your mind, her running in that field, picking those red flowers, and never once knowing of the same hardships that allowed crimson blood to pour on your land.

All she would know is the daylight.

#mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #lovejoy #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #lmanbur #lmanbur x reader #lmanburg #our young nation #oyn au

[fandom-geek17]

Destined For More - Chapter 2

Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

Synopsis: Being a close family friend of the Sully's, and Kiri's best friend, it was hard to be around Neteyam and not fall in love with him. Supressing those feelings were even harder, especially when his parents start pressuring him about finding a mate...

Rating: E MINORS DNI🔞🔞

Tags: Friends to lovers! Eventual smut! Semi public smut! P in V smut, Reader has a name, no use of Y/N

Vocabulary: Marui (tent, pod), skxawng (moron), paskalin (sweet berry, term of endearment), syulang (flower)

Ages: Neteyam (21), reader (20), Kiri (20), Lo'ak (19), Tuk (13)

Can also be read on AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Tagging: @suinhee @riatesullironalite @luvteyams @criticallybella @oceanstar19 @wiseheartzombie

Creating new beads seemed to have become your new favorite pastime. It was easy, time consuming and kept you from overthinking. Feeling like a robot, your hand repeated the practiced movements of carving out a small piece of wood before hollowing it and smoothing the edges. All the finished beads were tossed into a pile at your feet to be painted later. Over and over again. Think, carve, hollow, think, toss, repeat.

But the monotonous task could only distract you so much. The feelings of hurt and betrayal still lingered. Feelings that felt both deserved and unwarranted at the same time. How was that even possible? Every time Neteyam’s name came up in any conversation, your heart sank and you retreated to a corner for some mindless task. Mo’at didn’t directly question when you left Kiri and the others to deal with patients completely, only watching you with a pensive look. It’s not like you didn’t contribute. You had gathered more supplies and made more medicine than Mo’at could use up in an entire year. You just didn’t want anyone coming in for help to become the victim of your bad mood.

Deep down, you knew that it wasn’t fair to be angry with Neteyam. This wasn’t his choice. He couldn’t control his duty to find a mate anymore than he could control his feelings for you. Or rather, lack of feelings. Maybe you were more mad at yourself for letting this one-sided crush go on for as long as it did. Mad that you let yourself dream about him to the point that you fell in love when you shouldn’t have. Now you had to deal with the consequences.

In a way, maybe it was a good thing that he was to find a mate… Maybe then you could finally move on. Seeing him with someone else, happy and content would undoubtedly be the final stab to your heart. If you moved on too, it would be easier. If Neteyam was to court someone, maybe you should too. You were of age, after all. But your parents had never pressed the issue and you had never brought it up. You had been too busy drooling over your best friend’s brother in secret.

Though the thought of courting anyone right now hurt. It wouldn’t be fair to them or to you. Why court someone when your feelings laid elsewhere?

So, the best thing you could do was probably to give yourself the space you needed to process everything and hopefully come out on top in time for his wedding ceremony. Wedding ceremony… Ugh! The very thought made you sick. But there was no way you could avoid going, you were too close to his family.

“What’s up, Emmy?” Lo’ak’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. He stepped into your family’s marui, looking around with a smirk. “Are you trying to break a world record for the most beads made in one day?”

You snorted, but didn’t answer, didn’t even look up. He couldn’t see the dried tears on your cheeks! Lo’ak and sensitivity did not mix, he’d just be all awkward about it.

“You skxawng” Kiri admonished, stepping into the tent after her brother, Spider following close behind. She gave her brother a smack across the back of his head, making him yelp in pain.

“Ow!” he cried, rubbing the area. “What was that for?”

“For being you” Kiri responded firmly and sat down next to you, careful to not disturb the ever-growing pile of beads. “How are you feeling today?” she asked you.

You dared a small glance at your best friend. Her eyes were full of understanding. Even though you hadn’t explicitly told your best friend what was bothering you, Kiri seemed to sense everything concerning you, just like she could sense almost everything else. “I’m fine” you lied immediately.

Kiri cocked her head to the side, without a doubt taking in your tear-stricken face. She then turned to her brother and Spider. “Give us a moment.” Lo’ak grumbled something under his breath, but Spider gave you a look that could only be described as sympathetic before dragging Lo’ak out of the marui. Kiri turned back towards you. She tucked a couple of braids behind your ear in a soothing gesture she had undoubtedly picked up from her mother. “I know something is bothering you. But I don’t want to pressure you into talking about it until you’re ready.”

A small sniff escaped you. You sneaked a small peek at Kiri, hoping for anything but pity on her face. But there was mostly understanding. “Thank you, Kiri” you murmured.

Your best friend wrapped her arms around you, placing your head on her shoulder. You let out a long breath, closing your eyes. Even though you enjoyed, and really needed, the comfort, in a way it felt weird to accept comfort from her, given that it was her brother you were secretly brooding over. Not that you felt like Kiri would make such a huge deal over you being in love with her brother, per say. She was a very understanding person. The weird part was you having kept your feelings a secret for so long that it almost felt like a betrayal.

“What we wanted to ask you” Kiri began, stroking your hair. “Is if you wanted to join us later after dinner. Me, Lo’ak and Spider were thinking about going to the far side of the mountains, doing some exploring, just have some fun.”

You sighed… You could use the distraction, but the thought of faking happiness around other people was physically exhausting. “I don’t know, Kiri…”

“I won’t force you, I promise. But you could use the time outside, doing something else than foraging.”

“I’ll think about it” you answered.

And think about it, you did. Over and over again until your head spun around. Pulled between wanting to do something fun and productive to distract yourself and staying home to escape reality. You liked your friends, loved them even, but you had never been good at feigning happiness or the want to go out all the time. Solitude had always been you preferred escape. Being around large crowds and being social for so long could be draining. Even more so when you weren’t feeling well…

By the time dinner started, you had all but decided to decline their offer to hang out. Normally you would have said yes without thinking, but today was just not a good day. Kiri was carefully eyeing you from across the group. But meeting her eyes turned out to be an almost impossible task as she sat next to Neteyam. He was watching you too, his golden orbs flicking between you and his dinner.

Squaring your shoulders, you turned to your parents, trying to keep up with and engage with their conversation. But all you really wanted to do was run away to the safety of your marui. Your father was saying something about fishing, about how the fish had started to migrate. You listened to him babble on without much interest.

When the clan started to disperse, Kiri gave you a hopeful smile. But all you could do was to shake your head slightly and follow your parents towards your home. She gave you a nod in return before following her own family.

But when you reached your family’s marui, you instinctively stopped. “Are you not coming, paskalin?” your mother asked, a crease in her forehead. Of course, they had noticed your behavior. And you had told them in broad strokes what was going on. Told your mother, at least. But you hadn’t told them that it was Neteyam you were crying over. If your parents knew, then it was only a matter of time before Jake and Neytiri knew. And then Neteyam would know and that would be a disaster. The looks of pity, or worse disgust, when he would have to reject you were not something you wanted to experience.

“I will soon” you promised. “I just want to go for a quick walk.”

Your mother nodded and followed your father inside. Turning around, you walked away from the pods towards a quieter part of the village. Birds were singing in the trees when you arrived. The wind breezed through the trees. It was so peaceful, and helped to clear your spiraling mind.

But the peace and quiet didn’t last for long. A group of young men busted through the clearing, talking loudly, laughing, slapping each other on the backs. You recognized most of them as young warriors around your age. They hadn’t noticed you standing under a tree, too preoccupied with their conversation. A small smile played on your lips as you watched them. You wanted to have fun like that, if you could just get out of your own stupid head…

Though the smile vanished when you saw the object of your distress laughing among the men. Your heart constricted when Neteyam noticed you, his laugh faltering slightly. You turned your head away, blinking furiously to not let any emotion escape. His friend whispered something to him, but he just gave them a smile, clapping him on the back.

The group walked ahead, but Neteyam stayed behind, approaching you with a small smile. “Hey” he said, reaching out a hand to touch your shoulder. His touch was all warm, calming the storm inside you. Despite knowing better, you leaned into the touch and suddenly, his arms were around you. The hug was everything you needed, calming every nervous thought inside your head. The voice telling you to back off only got quieter and quieter. How was it possible that he could cause you so much turmoil and calmness at the same time?

“What was that for?” you asked quietly when he stepped back.

Neteyam shrugged. “You haven’t been yourself lately, and you looked really sad so I thought you could use a hug…”

“I haven’t been myself?” you questioned, looking down at your feet as you crossed your arms. The pity in his voice was maddening. You hated being pitied.

“Not really, no.” His voice sounded more nervous now. “You’re usually so happy. Did something happen?”

“No.” You cleared your throat. A clear lie, but he couldn’t know that. “Nothing’s happened.”

He sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder. His hand slowly travelled up your shoulder to the base of your neck, leaving a trail of fire. “I have to meet the guys, but I was hoping we could have a moment to talk soon.”

Your eyes carefully met his. He looked so hopeful it almost made you want to hope. “Talk about what?” you asked carefully.

He took a small step closer you, forcing you to crane your neck to keep looking at him. The air suddenly seemed thick, your breathing deepening. “About everything that’s going on. My parents are practically nagging me with a new name every day…”

Suddenly, your sadness turned to anger. Did he really consider this such an issue? Having women throw themselves at his feet? Having the entire clan gossiping about the fact that the son of the olo’eyktan was ready for a mate? Oh, all the gossip you had heard both inside the healer’s tent and outside. The warrior talking about how women constantly approached Neteyam, young women talking about how they had begged their parents to be able to put themselves forward as a match. That last one really made you scoff. As if anyone had the right to decide whether or not their daughter could court or not.

No. No, you would not be his shoulder to cry on. Not like this. “Is it really that hard to have women throwing themselves at you?”

Neteyam seemed taken aback by your new, suddenly harsh tone. He took his hand off your shoulder. “It is when there’s only one I’m interested in and she doesn’t notice.”

You scoffed. “So why are you talking to me instead of her?” You started to walk backwards. “I promise you, Neteyam, I’m fine. Nothing’s happened to me. You have your friends to meet up with, and I have mine. I’m supposed to meet Kiri and the others. And I encourage you to find the woman of your desires and let her know you how you feel.”

“You know, I might just do that” Neteyam called after you as you walked away, a slight edge to his voice.

No more of this. No more of this self-pitying, self-consciousness and moping about. You were going to meet your friends and have a damn good time!

XXX

Neteyam had been so confused these past few weeks. It had been three weeks since his parents first brought up the prospect of him finding a mate. When they first did, his thoughts had immediately travelled to you. How could they not? You were everything, and he was like an insect drawn to your light. You were so kind and attentive, so beautiful with your braided hair, your tall body with voluptuous hips and breasts that were covered with the most intricate pieces of clothing. He sometimes felt a bit guilty for thinking of his sister’s best friend in that way. But the mind had a mind of its own, especially when in love.

He would have fallen for you regardless, but your closeness to Kiri definitely helped. Growing up together, he quickly learned how dedicated you were to your healing skills, and interest in medicine. How kind you were to others, even when the large crowds in the healing tent visibly exhausted you. He loved how you put so much care and effort into everything you did.

When Jake and Neytiri had brought up a mate, he had told them that he understood that the time had come but that he wanted to do the searching himself, and not have people pressure him or any clan member into any rash decisions. Of course, that hadn’t stopped them from bringing up a new girl every day, hoping Neteyam would catch an interest. But he had no interest in them, only you.

And it hurt that every time he had tried to approach you, you had pulled away, suddenly busy with anything other than him.

You had told him that whoever he chose would surely make a great tsahík. You would make a great tsahík. You had everything required. The only thing missing was a belief in yourself and your connection to Eywa. One time, years ago, you had said that you felt like your connection to the great mother was lackluster. Neteyam couldn’t believe that even if he wanted to. Someone with your connection to the earth had to have a deep connection to Eywa. How else would you know so intuitively how to turn plants into medicine and always knew what to do for the people unless Eywa guided your hand. You only needed some guidance to learn how to interpret the signs.

He knew you liked him, but did you like him? The signs had been so mixed over the years. Sometimes you treated him like one in the group, a friend like any other. And then there was that day in the tent when Neteyam could swear the tension between you was electric. There had been several of those over the years, coming closer and closer together. Like that one time he had danced with you at the night of his friend’s wedding ceremony. Your movement had been flawless, for once so carefree. You had both been a bit drunk, dancing so close, smiling, twirling. He had felt brave then, letting his hands roam up and down your waist. Just when he was about to kiss you, you had excused yourself and then he hadn’t seen you for two days.

After you ran away angrily today, he had no choice but to follow his friends. It was what he had intended to do anyways, but maybe not with such a knot in his stomach. For weeks he had been trying to get a minute alone with you to finally find the courage to express his feelings, but you had avoided him as if he was riddled with disease. It’s not like he expected you to put yourself forward in a desperate manner he had witnessed from others, but a part of him had hoped for some kind of hint. Maybe you staying away was his hint. But if you truly did not feel anything for him, then why would you react with such anger and clear jealousy?

He should just ask you… Then he would get a true answer. He just hoped things would not get too weird if you rejected him… You had told him to find the one he wanted and show her, so he would show you.

He spent some time with the warriors, goofing around, competing at archery, talking shit. It was nice to have some time off from his duties, time to feel like a normal young adult. Usually, Lo’ak was the one who always got to have fun. Of course, the topic of his coming courtship came up. The guys loved talking about how Neteyam would leave a string of broken hearts behind him for them to heal. He couldn’t help but cringe at that. He didn’t really want them to take advantage of their disappointment.

He had already had to reject a couple of offers put forward by either the women themselves or by their parents. Their clear disappointment always stung, and he felt like a jerk. But he also couldn’t lie to himself and commit to anyone before knowing how you felt about him.

On his way back, he was met with a sight that was equally funny and exasperating. Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider standing by the riverside, covered from head to toe in mud.

“What have you guys been up to?” he asked, eyeing his siblings and friend up and down as they washed themselves somewhat clean.

“We were climbing and we all slipped on some mud” Kiri explained calmly, helping Spider to scrub some dirt from his locs.

“Bro, it was epic you should have seen it!” Lo’ak laughed. “Emmy fell first head on and we all thought she hurt herself but she did this crazy flip to catch herself and fell in the mud!”

Neteyam could feel his stomach constrict in worry. She wasn’t here with the rest of them! What if she did hurt herself? But before he could ask, Spider opened his mouth. “Kiri and I dove after her but by the time we made it down, she was just sitting in the mud laughing so hard and we all just kind of got into a mud fight.”

This didn’t really help his beating heart calm down. Where was she? “So why isn’t she with you guys?” Neteyam asked urgently, his eyes flitting between the others.

“Relax, bro” Lo’ak rolled his eyes in a way that made Neteyam want to strangle him just a little bit.

“She’s upstream” Kiri explained, pointing towards a cluster of trees. “She kinda got the worst of the mud so we gave her some privacy to clean up.” Without answering, Neteyam started to march towards where Kiri pointed. “Hey! Privacy applies to you to, Neteyam!”

Ignoring his sister partially, Neteyam moved on. Yes, privacy applied to him in the sense that he couldn’t just barge in on you if you were in some state of undress, but he also didn’t trust Lo’ak to judge whether you were injured in some way.

“Emreyìte?” he called, but no answer came. So he walked a bit more, looking for you in the distance.

Just when he was considering diving into the water to look for you, he spotted something cruising on the surface. There you were, floating in the water, ears below the surface, smiling a bit to yourself, eyes closed. It was the happiest he had seen you for weeks, well since he told you about his parents’ wishes. The fact that you had been sulking since then gave him some twisted sense of hope. But it wasn’t the smile on your face that made him blush. It was the sight of your breasts bobbing in the water. Your chest covering was nowhere to be found. When your arms moved in the water, it created ripples that caused your breasts to move with the current. Your nipples were pebbled in the cool night air, your tanhì glowing in intricate patterns. Beautiful, you were absolutely beautiful. Your words from earlier came flooding back, and he should look away, but Neteyam found himself unable to.

A twig snapped beneath his feet and your head immediately turned towards the sound. A shriek escaped your mouth at the sight of him.

“Neteyam?” you questioned, immediately sinking deeper into the water, covering yourself with your arms. “What are you doing here?”

It took a few seconds before Neteyam even realized you were talking to him, his mind too busy conjuring images of what he could do to let you know how he felt like you suggested. “Shit” he cursed, turning around to give you some sense of privacy. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to check on you, I head you fell down a cliff.”

You snorted behind him. “That’s the overstatement of the year. I’m fine, just filthy.” There was an edge to your voice that he didn’t like. Although, he couldn’t really blame you for being annoyed with him, he did just walk in on you bathing. But the edge in your voice also did other things to him. It was wrong, but his loincloth was getting tighter and tighter when all he could do imagining bending you over a rock, wanting to watch the water droplets run down your plush ass before burying himself in you completely. Again, it took him a second to realize that you were speaking. “My chest covering is lying by the grass, could you grab it for me? I think it’s too ruined to wear again but I need something on the way home.”

Careful to not look at you without permission, he fetched the covering, handing it over without looking. He could hear you emerging from the water. You mumbled a thanks, taking it from him.

“Are you sure that you’re not hurt?” Neteyam asked. When it came to you, he would never stop worrying. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, but whether it was from your half-naked proximity or him worrying about your wellbeing, he wasn’t sure.

“Yes” you sighed. “Don’t worry about me, it was a short fall.” The rustle of you putting your piece of clothing continued for a few seconds before he felt your hand on his shoulder. “You can turn around now.” Your touch was warm, and he wanted more, so much more. When he turned around, he couldn’t even be bothered to hide his erection. There wouldn’t really be anywhere to hide it, anyways. Instead, he took a small, tentative step forward, taking one of your braids between his fingers, enjoying the silky feeling. “I know they’re still dirty…”

“No” Neteyam whispered, his throat dry, voice thick with desire. Seeing you like this, wet, glowing tanhì, a sweet blush spreading across your cheeks, seemed to have destroyed the last of his willpower. “They’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

His hand moved from your braid to your jaw, cupping it. He looked into your eyes, finding a mix of emotions there. Nervousness, anticipation, but most of all longing. So much longing. His eyes flitted between your eyes and lips. Slowly, he leaned in. It felt like eternity, but when your lips eventually touched, a dam broke.

His arms were around you in an instant, your hands sinking into the hair at the nape of his neck. The water droplets on your body were cold, but your body was scorching as it pressed against his. His erection pressed into your stomach, creating a delicious friction that made him groan into the kiss. His lips moved over yours, possessive and demanding. You whimpered into the kiss, pulling him closer. Neteyam’s tongue ran over your bottom lip, and you immediately allowed him entrance. He had been with other women in the clan, but none that made him feel this electric.

Your tongues battled for dominance before Neteyam detached himself from you. He relished in your disappointed groan that turned into a moan when he started trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. Every inch of your skin would be covered in his kisses. Your skin was just as soft as he remembered from all the stolen touches over the years.

His hands roamed from your back, up your waist to grasp at your breast through the soiled covering. He could already feel your nipple hardening under his touch, making him bite down on your skin, eliciting a loud whimper from you.

“If this is already ruined” Neteyam started, running his finger over the cloth, straight over your nipple. “Are you still very fond of it?”

“Not really” you answered, a slight furrow between your brows.

“Good” Neteyam answered, grasping at the fabric and ripping it like it was nothing. Your audible gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he latched onto you, using the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth. Your muffled gasp turned into a moan as he played with your nipples, rolling it between his finger.

Eywa, he was rock hard, pushing up against you stomach. He needed everything you’d give him. Years of yearning and fantasizing made him feel reckless, even more so at the realization that you, the real you, couldn’t even compare to his fantasies.

Taking hold of your waist, Neteyam backed up against a nearby tree, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. This was better, this was so much better! Your entire weight resting on his dick, you squirming for friction, whimpering with each movement of your hips. He couldn’t help but lick a stripe up your breast. Judging by your reaction, it was his best idea yet. So, he continued, alternating between licking, sucking and nipping with some expertise. He had been with other women, but none better with you, they couldn’t even compare. He was only grateful for the experience now, so he knew how to please you now. Of course everyone was different, but at least he had a baseline to work off of and adjust by your reactions.

Your mouth had moved from his, pressing kisses to his cheek, jaw and down the column of his neck. Hesitant at first, but then more assertive, bolder. Your tongue licked at his pulse point, making him crane his neck with a groan, giving you better access. Your hands played with his braids for a moment before trailing over his shoulders and upper back. You exploring his body and surely sucking a hickey onto his neck was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Or maybe inside you. Yeah, definitely inside you, but he wouldn’t pressure you for that right now.

Instead, he trailed his finger along the hem of your loincloth. Your mouth broke from his neck, looking into his eyes. Fuck you were so beautiful, swollen lips, blown pupils, glowing tanhì, small water droplets decorating your skin. An inch of his finger travelled inside your loincloth, but he stopped there, searching your eyes for consent.

When you nodded with a small smile, he swiftly untied your loincloth, slipping his fingers inside. Warm, wet heat engulfed his fingers instantly, you were absolutely drenched. “Fuck, this all for me?” he breathed, dragging his finger up your slit.

A shiver coarsed through you as you nodded eagerly. Neteyam smirked at your reaction, his finger stopping to circle your clit. As he massaged the small button, your moans grew louder. Sure, the stream offered some soundproofing, but there was no way the other wouldn’t be able to hear the obvious sounds of pleasure coming from you.

“Shh…” Neteyam cooed, burying his nose between your breasts. “We don’t want the others to hear.”

You jerked your head, nodding, throwing your head back in quiet ecstasy. Neteyam pressed kisses all over your breasts as his fingers dipped lower, seeking more of your glorious heat. Gently, he pressed a finger inside you and his entire body shivered with arousal. So warm, so wet, your deep breaths and whimpers filling his ear, your sweet, earthy scent invading his senses. This was heaven, he was sure, there was nothing better than this. He had been drawn to you like a magnet most of his life, and there was no way he was ever going to let you go now.

He moved his finger in and out of you, pressing against that sweet spongy spot. Your hips jerked in rhythm with his hand, seeking the friction with desperation. His mouth sought yours, drowning your moans with his kisses. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, pressing as close to his body as possible. The palm of his hand pressed against your clit, making you cry out. He pressed his mouth against yours even harder, pressing his tongue into your mouth. You were close, he could feel it in the way you clamped down on him. He angled his hand against you just a little to reach better, and your body shivered.

“That’s it, syulang” Neteyam murmured against your mouth, feeling you pulse. “Come for me!”

He could feel you tumble over the edge, contracting around his finger, body shaking, cries swallowed by his mouth. You were so warm against him, pressing down on his erection. Warm liquid gushed from you, coating his hand. So perfect, you were so perfect! You looked at him with such warm softness it made his insides melt. This was how he always wanted to spend his time, coaxing your pleasure, being on the receiving end of your warm gaze.

When the aftershocks wore off, your hand carefully reached for his groin, but before you could reach, he put his hand over yours to stop the movement. “Not now, syulang” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your nose. “The others will wonder where we are…”

“Are you sure?” you asked, pressing your forehead against his.

Neteyam couldn’t help but smile at you, always so caring, even if you didn’t realize it. “I’m sure.” He gently pushed at your hip. “Come on, let’s go.”

XXX

Being the skilled crafter that you were, you quickly used some vine to make the destroyed chest covering appear whole enough for you to sneak past the others, fighting the blush spreading across your face and neck. Kiri’s eyes followed you like a bird of prey. Lo’ak and Spider seemed clueless like always.

You barely slept that night, your mind going over every small detail of what happened. It was a bit confusing going from feeling so sad about Neteyam to feeling on cloud nine. He had been so attentive, so caring, making you orgasm with such expertise. A part of you felt elated, like you finally had confirmation of everything you had always hoped he’d feel for you. But the louder part of your brain advised caution. Before you let your heart do a 180, you had to speak to him, first thing in the morning.

So, you tossed and turned a little bit more before swinging your legs off the hammock at first light. The village had barely come to life yet, buy you knew Neteyam would be awake. He was always the first one to awake.

The thoughts swirled in your head. What did he think of this entire thing? Was this a confirmation of his feelings, or were you just one more of the women he’d spent time with over the years to find some stress relief?

Thankfully, you reached the Sully’s marui before you could overthink again. Voices could be heard from the inside and you immediately recognized one of them as Neytiri.

“Nulan is an excellent hunter and has a fine relationship with Eywa” Neytiri said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

“She’s a good choice, son” Jake said from behind the tent flap.

Suddenly it felt like someone had filled your entire body with rocks and lava. Everything felt so heavy, so painful, betrayal seeping through your entire system. What the fuck?

#avatar #avatar the way of water #the way of water #atwow #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x female reader #smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #Neteyam lives #canon divergence #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #swedishlitteowl

[chaotic-iguana]

Home

masterlist. ao3.

Summary: reader leaves joel and sarah to pursue a job offer in nyc, thinking it would be easier than watching the relationship die from a distance. she soon realises her mistake and scrambles to fix it. based on this request. 

Pairing: joel x fem! reader (no use of y/n) no outbreak au

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: no smut, just a lot of angst, fluff and attempted humour

A/N: So, I’m clearly incapable of writing short drabbles (sorry lmao) let me know your thoughts!

“‘M just not gettin’ why we can’t make it work?” Joel throws his hands up, hot at your heels while you wipe your eyes on your sleeve and rush to the bedroom. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I’m just saying its unfair to the both of us. I don’t know how long I’ll be down there. What if we find other people? Long distance never works, Joel. I don’t get why you can’t just let it go.” Yelling over your shoulder, you start shoving your clothes into your suitcase, wincing at the harsh scoff he lets out. 

You’d known how this was going to go. You loved Joel, so much. But you had worked practically your whole life to get the job you’d been offered last week. It started in a month, but it was all the way in New York. And you’d known while reading the email, as your initial excitement settled, that the slimy feeling coiling in your gut was right - you’d have to leave Sarah and Joel behind. 

Your experience with long distances in relationships wasn’t great - and more importantly, it would be unfair to both your boyfriend and the girl you considered your own daughter for you to expect them to sit around and wait for you, indefinitely. Because you truly had no idea how this was going to go, at all. 

You wanted to wait until the flight tomorrow morning to break things off with Joel, but he’d been so sweet while helping you get everything together last minute and he’d figured out that something was up almost immediately. So now, here you are. Having a messy breakup with the love of your life 9 hours before your flight to New York. Where you’d live, for god knows how long. 

But this was good, wasn’t it? You were finally reaping the benefits of all the summers spent indoors and working, the missed birthday parties, the cancelled plans. You were finally getting everything you’d ever wanted, right? Except your palms felt clammier, your eyes glossed over with tears and your mind was completely blank as each sharp breath you gulped made you wince like a shard of glass. 

Joel stood to your sight, arms hanging limp to his sides and his eyes on the ground, brows furrowed. He looked heartbroken, and it felt like it was physically tearing you apart not to go and smooth his frown away, kiss away his scowl. You wanted to fix his hurt, but you couldn’t - you were the one hurting him. It was for his own good though. He’d find someone nice, how could he not, and he would be happier. The thought of him holding someone else, of Sarah running up to anyone else with that twinkle in her eye, of someone else fitting into your family made your chest ache.

Nothing is permanent, and they know I love them. They have to know I’ll always love them. They’ll get someone better, they’ll be happier. It’s going to be okay, everything’s gonna be just fine. A stream of rambling consciousness starting playing like a broken record player in your mind, reasoning and justifying what you were doing even as your body-your whole fucking being was protesting it. Your hands were trembling, it’d taken you three tries to close the damn zipper and you knew it. 

Turning to your Joel-not anymore, is he? you’re letting him go, you goddamn idiot (helpful supplication, brain, thank you for making me cry harder)- you sidestep him, leaving him standing dejectedly in the bedroom to drag your suitcase to the curb. The image of him with his head bowed; shoulders slumped as he closes his eyes and clenches his fist, agony radiating from him, is one that sears itself into your memory on your way out. Double checking your passport, boarding pass and phone, you walk in to stand in front of him again, gently bringing a hand up to his cheek to make him look at you. When he opens his eyes, they’re completely bloodshot and lined with unshed tears, breaking you; using all your willpower not to break down and pull him closer, take his pain away. Reigning your raging feelings, you stand on your tiptoes to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Be happy, Joel. Tell Sarah I love her.” You whisper into his skin and turn to leave, startling when he grabs your wrist. 

“Tell her yourself. ‘S gonna break her heart tomorrow mornin’ if she wakes up an’ you’re not here.” He’s searching your sorrowful eyes, watching his words break your façade as you clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip and shake your head fast as more tears spill down your cheeks. 

“C-can’t. I can’t. Please.” 

Joel wants to gather you in his arms, stroke your hair till you calm down. But you’ve got your walls up now - crumbling, shaky walls but still, a barrier you’ve very much built between the two of you. He wanted your happiness, your successes, more than anything, but he wanted to cheer you on by your side, too. He was willing to wait, to call when you could - phones were getting smart now? - but you’d convinced yourself you were doing yourself and him a mercy by ending it. So he just nods, once, before gulping and pawing at the table to swipe his keys. The question written all over your face makes him want to laugh - did you really think he loved you so little he’d leave you to find your own ride to the airport at 9 fucking pm even if you couldn’t stand to look at him anymore? 

So he hauls your bags off the curb and into his truck, yanking the passenger side door open and gesturing for you to sit with a jerk of his head. Once you clamber in, he walks over to the other side and starts the truck, hating every second of this. He wants to scream, shout, and beg you to stay so badly. But if you think this’d make you happy, he’d do it. Anything. 

He just couldn’t understand why you kept saying he’d find better, be happier. As if he’d even try. Sarah’s mother had left, and he’d been crushed - had sworn off dating altogether. But you had come along; your lilting giggles and twinkling eyes carving a place in his heart. He hadn’t been with you because he was looking for anyone, he’d been with you because he thought he had found the one. But clearly he was wrong. Again. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he clenches his hands tighter around the wheel to steady them . His mother had always told him if it’s meant to be, it’ll be - and you won’t have any say in it. He knows it’s cliché, but if there’s even a grain of truth to be found in it, he’ll treat the saying as if it were gospel.   

He can hear you sniffing your way there, heart breaking at the soft sobs that escape you, but he makes no comment. There’s no need to make this harder for you. You’d nearly fallen apart when he mentioned Sarah, and he could see in your eyes that if he asked you to stay with him, to sacrifice everything entirely, you’d do it without thinking. But he didn’t want that- could never want that for you. And so he stayed quiet, the stifling silence of the truck broken only by your muffled crying. 

Pulling up outside the airport, he steps out and takes your bags down in complete silence. Itching to fix the awkwardness, he smoothes his hands over his shirt and sneaks a glance at you. You-his headstrong, terrifying little thing - looking this small, this defeated  - feels so wrong that he can’t help but grasp one of your hands in his. Hooking a finger under your chin, he tilts your head up and smiles softly when you meet his eyes. “‘F you ever need me, you call me, you hear? Don’t matter if it’s five am and you’re thousands of miles away. I’ll find you, okay?” Your head barely dips in a nod as you stare at him like you’re trying to memorise the curve of his nose; the set of his jaw. 

Releasing you and stepping back, he plasters a wider grin on his face as he ushers you inside, stopping only to whisper “Don’t be a stranger, hotshot.” The tiny grin blooming on your face sends victory-fueled adrenaline pumping in his veins, his stomach twisting with butterflies at the final step: watching you walk away. He waits till you’re inside and out of his sight, letting a long breath loose in resignation. 

He can see how unsteady your feet are, how you stumble and nearly trip over yourself. She’ll be okay, she’ll be happy. If Joel was a better man, he’d try and understand why you just left him. He would gladly have learned it all for you - the SMS texting, even the Skype stuff he’d heard of from a colleague; apparently you could see someone on your phone while talking to them - even if he was all thumbs at it. Sarah would likely have helped him with it, too, the girl loved you so damn much she would have gone outta her way to find ways to make the distance feel as normal as possible. But you didn’t ask for any of that. No, you asked him to let you go. So he would. 

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You sit in the lounge, miserable. Forcing yourself to take your mind off the clusterfuck that your life has become, you reach out for a magazine and start flicking through some mindless droning bullshit about a celebrity being spotted at a bar. Anxiety and unease had the wheel now, so you decide what the hell, and walk to the airport bar, ordering whiskeys one after the other until your head is swimming and you can’t remember how to stay upright walking in god knows which corridor of this too-big airport. Funnily enough the only thing the alcohol isn’t strong enough to wipe is Joel. How you didn’t even say goodbye properly, not to him and not to Sarah. They deserved better. You’re doing them a favor by leaving. 

Your head swarming with stinging taunts directed towards yourself, you stumble into the bathroom and begin a four-hour-long stint of curling up next to the milky white porcelain, hurling intermittently as you lay on the filthy vinyl floor and relish the cold bite against your burning skin. Drinking on an empty stomach had been shit oversight on your part, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d made more mistakes than one tonight…

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Your job was all you could have asked for. The opportunity of a lifetime, with a salary high enough that your account was close to hitting 6 figures in less than a year. It had taken a long time and a lot of hard work to reach here, but it was worth it. The job was, atleast. But when you swung your door open late at night, walking into a dark, cold apartment; when you got sick and had to lay shivering in bed alone for a week; when the weekend rolled around and all you could do was curl up in bed and sob into your pillow - you knew that this wasn’t worth the cost of your relationship. You’d lost weight, your eyes had semi-permanent bruises under them, your hands shook most of the time now. 

It was getting worse and worse, until one morning when your alarm went off for work, you just shut it off and slept in some more. Then cleared out the depressive clutter that had started to overflow on every table, in every cabinet. Threw out the half-empty liquor bottles and for the first time since you had landed here, you knew what you were doing.

You were going back to Texas. Fuck your two-week notice. You’d made enough money to sit on your ass and do small jobs for the rest of your life if you wanted to. The eight-month stint at the firm you were currently working at - even just summarized in two lines on your CV - would help you get better jobs than you were doing before. But you weren’t going back to Austin for work, not really. 

You missed Sarah like a phantom limb; it felt like someone had ripped away a part of you and forced you to live with it. You missed her jokes, her laughter, the way she’d get excited about something and talk your head off. And him. You didn’t miss him, you fucking ached for him like a lovesick puppy. His name alone made you ache, and he plagued every single minute you spent awake since you left. You kept replaying that night over and over again; every single minute of it immortalized in your memory like your own personal purgatory (fun!). Joel, who would have held your hair back when you hurled your guts up at the pavement on the bad nights. Joel, who would have held you and fed you and loved you and why the fuck did you ever think it was a good idea to leave him, again? 

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you packed your things into the same bag you’d arrived with. You hadn’t even bought anything to furnish the apartment, making do with the too-small bed, cabinet and wonky table the landlord had provided - as if you’d known you wouldn’t stay. And you suppose, perhaps, a part of you did know. How was any of this worth anything if he wasn’t with you? The long-term good can go fuck itself. I need to see him. Should I just knock on his door randomly like a creep? No, that’s weird. What if he has another girlfriend now? Yeah, I should ask him before showing up. What if he doesn’t pick up? Where will I go if he isn’t there? God, fuck this. Get on a goddamn plane before you change your mind, idiot. 

With these (wonderful) thoughts dizzying you, you reach the airport and ask the counter for a ticket home. Turns out there’s a flight in thirty minutes - which is great because on one hand you can get rejected earlier - but also means that you need to decide whether or not to text him beforehand. Within the next half hour. Which you then spend wringing your hands, pacing, and by the time you decide to text him, your phone has run out of battery. See this? This, my friends is luck. (or, you know, dramatic plot writing.)

Huffing, you debate yourself every single step of the way onto the plane, practically having a panic attack by the time you find your seat and settle in. There are just so many reasons this could just be another shitshow. You can’t go back in time and fix what you did, but you owe it to yourself and to him to apologise and give him the truth. And so you lie back in your seat and browse yet another crappy magazine to pass the time, eventually giving up and fitfully sleeping through the turbulence. 

By the time you reach his door, its eleven pm on a Tuesday night. Meaning Sarah’s gone to bed, and Joel’s halfway there himself. This is not the time. Or the place. But you don’t find yourself having any better, genius ways to do this - so before you talk yourself into going home quietly - you’re rapping a fist against the door, careful not to be loud enough to wake Sarah up. It’s a school night. Holding your breath, you become suddenly all too aware of your flushed face and the sweat on your palms as you hear familiarly heavy footsteps reaching the door. One half of your mind is yelling at you to turn the fuck around and run what are you doing he won’t take you back you broke his heart get out get out get out while the other half seems to have just short-circuited, leaving you frozen on his porch as his door swings open. 

You watch his eyes widen in surprise, and the slight furrow in his brow as he starts scanning you - for injuries, you realise - he thinks you're hurt or that something’s gone completely sideways. Clearing your throat, you wait for his gaze to snap back to yours before flashing him a meek smile. “C-can I come in? Please?” He just stares at you for a second, and then he’s nodding, stepping to the side and opening his door wider. And God, even that’s enough to have butterflies fluttering in your stomach, your throat going dry. He’s clearly mad at me, but he’s letting me in. At eleven pm. Fuck, I love him. 

You sit on your side of the couch and the sheer mundanity of it hits you like a brick to the face. Joel brings you both beers from the kitchen before sitting across from you, still eyeing you with equal parts suspicion and concern. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking down at your hands and trying to figure out what the fuck to do with my mouth what do I even say until he breaks the silence. “So, how’s work been?” 

And now your hands are shaking again, and you freeze. Because what do you say now? Work’s great, practically a corporate wet dream, but useless. See, turns out I made the biggest mistake of my life by leaving - fucking moped about like an idiot the whole time, was practically a minute away from writing you some big shitty sonnet or something to beg you to take me back. Decided against it because that would have taken like $50 dollars just to SMS. ‘Course I could have boom-boxed it, ‘Say Anything’ style, but recording a fucking sonnet on a cassette would probably have shredded my dignity irreparably. Not that this isn’t, it’s just less of a socially-masochistic option, you know?

And it isn’t until you hear him choke on his beer and look up at the amusement on his face that you realise you just said all of that, out loud. You slap a hand to your mouth just as he starts laughing: head bowed, eyes closed and his shoulders shaking - just like that night, but he’s not in pain this time; he’s practically howling with laughter, clutching his stomach with one hand and holding his beer in the other. 

You freeze again, eyes wide and staring in shock at the fact that that just came out of my mouth. And he just heard it. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and pointedly wipes a tear from his eye. Bastard. You, on the other hand, are completely panicking still - that was the shittiest apology you could have given him and where the fuck did that messily written draft you wrote drunk on the takeout bill last night go? It isn’t until he’s looking right at you with a shit-eating grin on his face that you react, blinking and looking down at your hands again. 

“What I meant to say was that I’m sorry. I think I was just so convinced that I’m not the effort of you trying to stay with me long-distance that I convinced myself the only thing possible was to end it. Which, y’know, of course it wasn’t. And I didn’t even say bye properly. You drove me to the airport and I said nothing. I was trying so hard not to cry, because I thought I needed that job since I’ve been working for it so long, but fuck the job. I mean, it was amazing, don’t get me wrong. Great pay and everything, the work itself wasn’t too bad. All in all, amazing. But I was fucking miserable without you. And I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. I fucking love you and Sarah. You’re my whole goddamn world, y’ know? Sundays weren’t the same without chocolate chip pancakes and Sarah telling me about something that happened at school first thing in the morning. I just-I get if you’ve found someone - and feel free to tell me to fuck off even if you haven’t - but I just can’t anymore, I can’t stay awake every night and cry in bed and feel like shit all the time and not tell you that I just miss you so much all the fucking time and I’m so-“

“Breathe.” One word, he’s cutting your rambling off with one word, and you’re fucking obeying it. You swallow a deep breath before opening your mouth again, before he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. It’s not a soft kiss, but it isn’t forceful either. Desperate, like he needed to touch you again - the way you’ve needed to every single minute of every single day. Resting his forehead against yours, he’s smiling again. “Sonnet, huh? Would’a been a pretty shit one, I reckon. Lost your train a’thought like four times there, sweetheart.” Your stomach is doing somersaults at the fact that he’s abandoned the beer to cradle your head against his, at how he’s right there and he isn’t pushing you away. 

“Wasn’t right, what you did. But we can’t make the right decisions all the time. I know you thought you were doing us a favor, but thinking you weren’t worth the effort? Now that’s a fuckin’ lie, baby. Woulda learned all kinds of phone voodoo to talk to you, and it would have been worth every damn secon’ of my time if it saved you from whatever the hell New York has done to ya. Staying awake every night and cryin’ in bed?” He tuts disapprovingly, continuing: “Shoulda called me, honey. How’s this: let’s get into bed now, an’ I’ll make you those pancakes tomorrow mornin’, I promise. And we can figure it out from there, okay?” And it takes you a second to process the fact that everything’s okay, before you’re nodding and your face is scrunching into a sob. His hands are immediately cradling you on either cheek as he’s shushing you softly, moving closer to move you into his lap. You were right. No matter how far you went, nothing could replace this right here. This; Joel; Sarah. After a long, tiring, painful eight months, you were finally home.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings @suckerforfanfic (sorry this tag wasn't working earlier)

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #sarah miller #joel miller/you #no outbreak au

[slut4thebroken]

forced my hand

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason’s been begging to fuck your ass and you keep saying no so he decides to take matters into his own hands

Warnings | HARD KINKS 18+, vaginal sex, anal sex, rape, coercion, dubious consent (not even that. it’s just straight up non consensual)

Words | 900

Notes | I’m going through a dark!jason phase. If anyone wants to send me money for therapy, feel free to do so

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

This is NON consensual sex !!! Please don’t read if this will be triggering- this is the last warning.

He’s always wanted to try anal with you and he was never shy about voicing that want. One time you made a joke about agreeing, asking when he wanted to go shopping for a strap, and he was not even slightly amused. 

So that’s how most of your sex life has been going for the past few months. He’d always ask, you’d always deny. 

“C’mon, babe, just let me stick a finger in.” His thrusts slowed and his hand on your ass cheek was moving closer and closer to your hole. 

“No, Jason.” You warned, preparing to grab his hand. 

“It’s just one fuckin finger what’s so bad about that?”

“You can finger my ass after I finger yours.” You snapped, shutting him up. 

One time he stuck a finger in anyway, so you pushed him off of you and went to the bathroom, locking yourself inside. 

“Seriously?” He scoffed through the door. “C’mon, babe, I won’t do it again, just let me fuck you.” 

“Jason, I’ve told you time and time again.” You sighed. 

“So you’re just gonna fuckin leave me like this?” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “Fine!” Then, under his breath as he walked away, “Fuckin bitch.” 

It was only a couple weeks after that incident that he finally decided he’d had enough. You were laying face down, ass up, as he slammed his hips into you, keeping up the brutal pace. You reached a hand down to your clit, trying to have a little more stimulation than just his relentless pounding. And you could feel yourself getting close too. But he suddenly pulled out, making you whine and push your hips back. Then hot come was hitting your asshole, dripping down until it met your fingers. 

You sighed, knowing you were going to have to finish yourself off again- you should’ve started touching yourself earlier, but you thought he’d last longer. 

Jason eyed your fluttering holes, knowing it’d be now or never. Well, not never, but not in the near future. It didn’t take much convincing for him to press the blunt head of his cock against your asshole and start to push in. 

“Ow- ow! Jason, what the fuck?!” You yelled, trying to move away from him. He just pressed on your upper back, holding you down. He lined himself up again and pushed, this time breaching your hole, making you let out a shrill scream. Reaching a hand down, he swiped through some of his come that had fallen down your cunt and rubbed it over the rest of his cock, making it easier to slide in. Once his hips met your ass, he let out a loud moan, savoring the feeling. 

“Does it hurt?” He asked, casually. He could tell you were crying. You were letting out these whimpers that went straight to his cock and clawing at the sheets, still trying to get away from him. Patience wearing thin, he finally started to move. He dragged his length out slowly, then slammed back in, making you release a loud sob. You started babbling out pleas for him to stop, but all of it was just making him harder. 

He didn’t keep the slow speed for long. As his pace got faster, he could already feel himself nearing his second orgasm. Your virgin ass was so much tighter than your used cunt and he mentally decided to fuck your ass from now on, at least until your pussy tightened up again. 

He suddenly pulled out, grabbing both of your ass cheeks and pulling them open to get a better view of your gaping holes. Fuck- should’ve done this so much sooner, he thought. He slid back in, paying no mind to your cries of pain, and focused on his orgasm. 

“Fuck yeah,” He groaned, “fuckin slut. This could’ve been enjoyable for both of us, but you just had to be a stubborn bitch. You forced my hand, babe. This is your own fault.” He all but shrugged. His thrusts grew erratic and frenzied as he neared his orgasm until finally he let out a loud moan and pushed completely inside you. As you fell forward onto your stomach, he followed you, now pinning your body to the bed. His hips rutted into you, trying to get the most out of his orgasm, as he let out curses and stifled moans. Finally, he stilled, catching his breath and not moving from his position yet. 

The sound of your soft cries finally registered and he pushed your hair behind your ear to see your face, then kissed the tears on your cheeks. You flinched away from him, sobbing harder, and he could feel his cock fattening up again. 

Leaning up, he pulled your ass cheeks apart, then slowly dragged his cock out. Your gaping hole fluttered around nothing as his come slowly trickled out, down to your cunt. He cursed under his breath at the sight and gave one last slap on your ass, then stood up, going to the bathroom.

“Maybe don’t be such a fucking bitch and I’ll actually prep you next time.” He knew that wasn’t true though. He wasn’t going to waste his time making your fuck hole looser. Especially not when you sound so fucking hot crying and begging him to stop. 

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #smut #Jason needs professional help #blurb #jason todd smut

[cchickki]

Say Yes To Heaven, Say Yes To Me

request for the lovely @chrissymodi-frost! i'm sorry it took so long!

i'm also terrible at naming stories i tend to lean toward song names lol. not really proof read, so sorry for any mistakes! i am not always super confident in now i write smut, so i hope i did okay!

summary: You and Miguel haven't had much time to spend together since the baby. He's been working long hours, and you have been staying home to care for your child. One sleepless night Miguel comes home from work early, at last you both have some time to yourselves to be intimate.

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem reader

word count: 1.8k

rating: M - smut: including a little bit of a praise kink and lactation kink, breast sucking and some nipple play, brief handjob, small hint of a breeding kink, etc. etc. minors do NOT interact!!

also available to read on ao3!

It was a little past midnight, and the baby would not stop crying. You tried everything to soothe him, but his cries wailed on and on into the first hour of the morning. Exhaustion had taken over, you could feel it all the way into your muscles and bones: sluggish, fighting to keep your eyes open. Now you held your baby on the couch, trying your best not to nod off as he cried and wriggled in your grasp.

Miguel was working late tonight. Although it was needed financially, you hate the nights when he had to work overtime. Miguel being home was often the only time you were able to get some rest. Lately he had been working a lot of late shifts, the two of you unable to spend a lot of time together. You knew it was only temporary, once the baby was closer to his first birthday it would get (slightly) easier. You loved your baby, but it was just one of those difficult nights where fatigue was making you question why you made the decision to have a child in the first place.

You turned the television on, the faint light and background noise filled the dark living room. It seemed to help, the baby finally started to feel calm. You dozed off, on and off, your baby sleeping peacefully on your chest as you laid down on the couch. The sound of keys jingling and the front door opening stirred you awake; craning your neck toward the front door you saw Miguel slip inside, doing his best to close the door quietly.

He crept over toward the couch, his eyes sweeping over you and the baby sleeping on top of you. You smiled up at him, sleepily, afraid to move too much so you wouldn’t wake the sleeping infant.

“I’ll put him to bed.” Miguel whispered, expertly lifting up the baby off of your chest.

You sat up, yawning and rubbing your eyes into focus as Miguel gingerly walked over to the baby’s room. The television was very bright, and the sounds and pitch of the annoying infomercial salesmen performing theatrics on screen was enough to make you grimace. You groped for the remote around the couch, your drowsiness making this task harder than usual. Miguel entered the living room again, watching you search around the couch for a moment in amusement before switching off the television manually. 

“Thank you…” you muttered, rubbing your eyes again. 

You stood up, a little wobbly, but managed to blindly make your way to your room and to the bathroom. You nearly stub your toe at the base of the porcelain tub, attempting to reach inside and turn on the shower faucet. 

“Slow down, mi vida, let me help you.” Miguel is behind you again, placing his hand at the small of your back, reaching around to turn the knobs on the faucet. 

You sat at the edge of the tub, the porcelain cold against the exposed part of your skin on your leg. Miguel started to take off his work uniform, unclipping his nametag and putting it on the counter, throwing his clothes in the laundry basket. You tested the water with your finger tips, recoiling if it was too hot or cold, adjusting the knob as needed. You slipped off your pajama top, instantly getting chills from your exposed skin and the steam wafting from the shower. You could feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you took off your shorts. You paused before getting in the shower, casting a glance over at Miguel as he watched you, still undressing himself. 

“What are you looking at?” You ask him, drowsy but amused.

“I think you know.” He replied, his eyes fixed on your body. 

You couldn’t help but blush, even after a few years together your relationship still had a spark to it. You stepped into the shower with a shy smile; the water felt heavenly against your bare skin. Miguel climbed in with you, his large frame blocking out the shower head almost completely. You feigned annoyance, whining for him to move but couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as your face nuzzled into his chest. You loved his scent, breathing it in deeply from the skin on skin contact. You hadn’t realized how touch-starved you were until this moment, relishing the embrace and yearning for him to touch you further. 

Something hard was pushing up against your inner thigh, you couldn’t help but smirk. You looked up at Miguel, his eyes were closed, a low hum resonating from his throat. He was trying to hold himself back, but you didn’t want him to resist you. You reached down, giving his cock a quick pull. He shuddered from your touch, groaning slightly as he gave your back a squeeze.

“Don’t tease me, mi vida…” he said, his breath hitching.

“Who said I’m trying to tease you?” 

Miguel took into consideration what you said for a second, then pulled you into a passionate kiss. It had been a long time since he kissed you this way, it reminded you of when the two of you first started dating, how hungry you both were for each other. His tongue slipped past your lips, you invited it in, your hand still stroking his cock. It felt so full in your hand, you marveled for a moment how quickly he had become aroused. His hand slinked from around your back, finding one of your breasts. He ran his thumb over your erect nipple, teasing you with the slow back and forth motion. You craned your neck back, your eyes closed as you savored the sensation. 

“I need to get you into the bedroom…” you heard him mumble as he gazed down at you.

It didn’t take him long to escort you from the shower to the bedroom. He held onto you as he reached back and turned off the water, carrying you out of the tub with one arm and picking up a towel with his free hand. He draped it around you, laying you back on the bed. You were still damp, but Miguel didn’t waste any time waiting for you to dry. He climbed on top of you, hungrily running his eyes over your nude body. His hands found both of your breasts, massaging them and making quick circular motions with his thumbs. You couldn’t help but moan, squirming at his touch. He ran his tongue over both of your breasts, enjoying how you writhed under his body weight. 

“Let me have a taste.” He crooned, bringing his lips to one of your breasts.

He took it fully in his mouth, sucking and grazing your nipple with his tongue. It felt so good, you know you were moaning louder now. You slapped your hand over your mouth, afraid you were being so loud you would wake the baby. He moved your hand, pinning your wrist above your head. You felt his cock slip inside you, your eyes widening as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his size. 

“Miguel… the baby…” you tried to say, unable to suppress a moan.

“He’s still sleeping, it’s fine.” He assured you. “I want to hear you call out my name, mi vida, I don’t want you to be quiet.”

Your walls clenched around him, making a moan escape from his own lips as he moved in and out. His hands returned to caressing your breasts, flicking your nipples and massaging them in quickly paced motions that made you want to cry out in pleasure. It felt so good, you know you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself much longer. 

“Miguel… oh my god, Miguel, please…” you whimpered.

He liked how you said his name, your tone dripping with pleasure. His mouth found your other breast, sucking on it again. You knew you had to be soaked, knowing you were on the verge of orgasm as he continued to stimulate you. He removed his mouth from your breast for a moment to rest on it, his breathing became labored from his own exertion.

“You’re so amazing, mi vida, you’re doing amazing. You feel so good, I can’t take it…” he moaned, thrusting inside you at a faster pace. “You handle me so well… I…” he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Take me…” you whispered, your hands grasping the side of his face so he could look into your eyes, focusing on you. “I want you to give me another baby, please Miguel…” 

“You want another baby so soon?” 

“Give me another baby Miguel, I want to have more of your children, I want all of you in me, please.” You stressed, arching your back and craning your neck back again as he reached deeper into you.

You knew exactly what to say to make him go crazy over you. You continued to cup his face, his eyes watching you become nearly overcome with pleasure underneath him.

“Vas a ser la madre de mis hijos…” he moaned.

He broke free from your hold, his face burying himself back in between your breasts. They bounced with the thrusting, and it drove him crazy. His tongue found your nipple again, and you weren’t able to contain yourself anymore.

You orgasmed, letting out a shrill cry in pleasure, unable to stay quiet. Colors exploded in your vision, your muscles that were so tense pulseated until they finally relaxed. To your slight embarrassment, the orgasm had made you lactate. Miguel’s face was dripping with your milk, while the rest drained down from your chest to your stomach.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized, covering your mouth as he wiped his cheek with the back of his palm.

“Don’t be, you taste good.” He replied, coolly.

He returned to sucking on your breast, but the sound of your baby crying in the next room interrupted. Miguel groaned, his head dropping, you couldn’t help but giggle, seeing how frustrated he was.

“I got it.” He said, pushing himself off of the bed and using the towel to dry himself off.

“It was great while it lasted.” You chuckled, sitting up and drying yourself off with the same towel. “I told you we were being too loud.”

“That was all you, mi vida. But it’s fine, he’ll have a younger sibling soon.” He smirked, putting on a pair of boxers.

You laughed, balling up the towel and throwing it at him as he left the room to tend to your son. You laid back down on the bed, closing your eyes, the drowsiness returning now stronger than ever. You were at peace, in fact you were in a state of absolute bliss after this round of lovemaking. It had been too long since the two of you had been able to be intimate, you vowed to not let it take that long again.

When he returned to the room, he took you in his arms, cuddling you as you started to drift off to sleep. You were in heaven.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #fic request #chrissymodi-frost #fanfiction #I will never be free from lana del reys influence #my fanfic #ash sick in bed chronicles #oneshot

[spartanguard]

an important date

it's Friday and it's Colin's birthday....I had to do something!! Just a bit of a post-canon Captain Charming scene, inspired by this prompt: "We both meet at the bar at a birthday party but we don’t even know who’s birthday it is. I think it’s yours, you think it’s mine." 1.1k, rated T | AO3

The Rabbit Hole was…well, the Rabbit Hole—its usual divy self. It wasn’t where Killian would typically expect to find David, least of all on the prince’s birthday.

At least—he thought that’s what Emma had said? She’d all but shoved him out of the station that evening, with the direction to meet her father here for a “birthday drink”. Of the birth dates he’d memorized (and would never forget—Emma’s, Henry’s, Hope’s), he realized he was severely lacking when it came to his in-laws.

But perhaps David’s would be easier to remember, given its proximity to his own. Or, rather, when he thought his own was; the actual date was long since lost to time, realm travel, and changing calendars, and it had been centuries since he’d actually done anything to mark the date, but he remembered it being in spring. 

Really the only fond memory he had of the day was picking fresh wildflowers with his mother, the light scent filling their small house, and the sweet taste of the modest cake she’d baked. When the hyacinth began to bloom in Storybrooke, he was always taken back to that day, and generally used that milestone to mark the passing of his years—but he’d lived enough of them that he needed no extra celebration or recognition.

As it was, the first shoots of spring had only just begun to emerge, so by his math, that put David’s birthday—or whatever today was—a few weeks ahead of his own. Good to know.

He scanned the bar for his mate—squinting a bit harder than he’d like to admit in the dim light (further evidence of the passage of time, he presumed)—almost missing him at the far end of the counter, until David waved at him.

“Evening, mate,” he greeted as he slid onto the barstool next to his father-in-law. “Not your typical scene, eh?” he added, nodding towards the rest of the bar, where all manner of seedy goings-on (well, as much as ever happened in Storybrooke) were happening—things the deputy sheriff should probably be concerned with, but he was off the clock (and had no room to talk).

David shrugged. “I’ve been known to pass the occasional night here—cursed and not cursed. Having royalty around seems to keep things calm.”

“Aye, but you’ve never been here with a pirate,” he winked back, even if it had been ages since he’d anything resembling a rowdy night. The most exciting his had been lately were the times that they managed to get a teething Hope down early enough to squeeze in some intimacy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Emma’s father.

“No,” David agreed. “But I figured I could manage for one night. To mark the occasion and all.”

“Aye; it does warrant that. My apologies for not knowing the date sooner—happy birthday, Dave.”

But instead of the customary thanks, David just tilted his head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Bloody hell—had he misheard Emma? “We’re here to celebrate your day of birth, are we not?”

“No; my birthday is in July—so now I kind of am offended,” David replied, though his tone was light. “Wait—did Emma not tell you?”

“She told me to meet you here for a birthday drink—I assumed that meant it was yours.”

“No, man—it’s yours.”

“Come again?” He’d never so much as commented to anyone, including Emma, the whereabouts of birth date; so how would either of them, least of all David, have known?

David explained, “Remember near the end of her pregnancy, when her magic was kind of overpowered and she was trying to release it?” How could Killian forget? He spent a whole week with blue hair, and trying to keep Pop-Tarts from flying around the house. “Apparently during that, she was trying out a bunch of easy, informational spells; there was one about revealing birthdates. Turned out mine was off by a couple of days. But yeah, she did yours, too; she never mentioned it?”

Killian was momentarily speechless. Not out of betrayal or anything—things were rather chaotic leading up to Hope’s birth, so he didn’t blame Emma for letting it slip her mind—but moreso that it had been able to be determined.

And, despite the last several years being filled with things such as True Love, marriages, and more family than he’d ever imagined having, he was still touched by the idea that anyone cared enough about him to know the date he’d entered this world (or whichever world it was)—and even more that they wanted to acknowledge it. 

“Uh, no,” he said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I seem to recall her pregnancy brain was pretty bad then,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the moment. “So—really? Today?”

“Today,” David confirmed. Killian thought back to the wildflowers—then recalled that he grew up in a far warmer climate than Maine’s, perhaps the reason for his miscalculation.

(Also: he now understood why Emma had woken him with morning sex that day. That was never something he’d question, though—and also something he wouldn’t dare mention in present company.)

The barkeep then set two glasses of amber liquid in front of David. He slid one across the worn wood to Killian, then raised his own. “Happy birthday, Killian. To the best son-in-law—best friend—a man could ask for.”

Killian clinked his glass against David’s and quickly took a sip, hoping it might wash down the lump that had formed in his throat. Alas, it didn’t—but at least it was there with good reason. “Thank you, mate; and, uh, the feeling is mutual.” It wasn’t often words escaped him, so hopefully his father-in-law picked up on the weight of the emotion in his voice; he tried to find David’s eyes, but was overcome with an odd bashfulness he hadn’t felt since youth.

David just gave a gentle chuckle and a solid, brotherly thump on the shoulder, before attempting to down his own shot of rum—which brought on laughter of a different kind, but it broke the bit of tension. 

They shared another drink after (whiskey; far more palatable to the prince), before leaving to their respective princesses—and sharing perhaps a stronger embrace than Killian had originally intended, but it was certainly called for. 

As sweet as his memories from childhood were, it was nice to add this one to the collection of birthday remembrances—the first in so long. (And, as he eventually found, not the last—not by a long shot—in the many years to come.)

(However, he still refused, in all those celebrations, to tell David the way Emma preferred to mark the occasion.)

-----------------------------💙💙-------------------------------

[thanks for reading, and happy Captain Charming Friday! tags below cut]

@optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook388 @kmomof4 @kat2609 @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @annytecture @phiralovesloki @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich​ @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke [let me know if you do/don't want tags!]

#killian jones #killian jones ff #captain charming ff #captain charming friday #my ff

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF!! Sometimes I like to read this fandom problem blog that receives submissions from people all over Tumblr, recently this was posted and I wanted to know what you thought of it: The tag types of "Tags update as story is written" or "additional tags to be added" or "Rating may change." Fuck those. I don't care if you add some extra benign tags as the story goes along, and you realise you wanna add more content that's just there, or you realise your fic maybe went a bit harder than you expected. Some stories get their own life. But at the same time, if you knew you'd want to add certain content, or that the rating was gonna go way up from what you tagged in the beginning, why did you not tag it from the start? Especially when the tagged content becomes a big part of the story, or influences the story strongly. And then you find out that the Author already had been planning adding this type of content for a long time, they just FOR SOME STUPID-ASS REASON didn't wanna add the tag until it actually happens. You're supposed to tag so the people can make an informed decision if they wanna commit to your fic, so for the love of the tagging-system, actually TAG ALL YOUR SHIT FROM THE START. Same shit for changing ratings. I hate it when someone plans from the start to make the story explicit, but doesn't change the rating until they've reached the NSFW sections. There's a reason there's a tagging system. So do you just not understand how that works? Or are you just being kind of as ass on purpose? This does not help when avoiding stories with specific content you try to exclude from your results. It's even dumber if the reason is to "avoid spoiling the fic readers", because anyone coming later to the fic is going to be "spoiled" by the tags regardless. And if you know you wanna add porn, or gore, then rate the story appropriately. Rather categorise it too high, than fuck around with people who don't wanna read explicit content. As a writer who uses the Archive, I want to put my 2 cents in. When I'm writing a fic, a long fic for example, I want to tag the stuff that actually DOES appear at that time so that I'm not clogging other tags/people don't think I'm spamming to inflate my readership (And I DEFINITELY do not want something I worked hard on to get reported for spam). I do get the frustration at reading a fic and then something changes like the rating, but as a writer, sometimes things go off script and one thing that's rated T or M might eventually become E just based off the writing juices doing it's thing(tm). To me, the "Additional tags to be added" is kind of like CNTW, it's something the reader has to make a decision if they want to risk getting invested/read that particular fic. It feels very much like a "damned if you do/damned if you don't" situation. What are some of your thoughts on something like this?

--

Writers are always going to vary in their favorite approach, and readers who act like there's one right answer are idiots.

For me personally, even if I'm posting as I write, I do have a solid idea of where the fic is going, and I strongly prefer—both as a reader and writer—to have all of the tags in place at the beginning.

I also don't like over-tagging for warnings and only want to see/use tags for the basic main content of the fic, which does make it easier to know ahead of time than if I tagged every tiny thing.

I think spoilers are a dumb reason not to tag things.

So I agree with the complainer's tastes...

...but at the same time, they're acting like these ought to be rules, and AO3 is designed to accommodate a lot of different people with different styles, so I think their attitude leaves something to be desired.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #36] DENIAL

warnings: drinking, star lovers (the drink), star lovers (the people), v wholesome! v lovely! loverboy jjk, the bday chapter

a/n: just one tonight 'cause im a bit pressed for time :( I'll upload some extra ones tomorrow hehe

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Stay," Jeongguk lazily whines into his pillows, hair a tousled mess, skin clammy and glowing in the dusky haze of an early spring morning.

Light pours in through his unclosed curtains, the city intruding on your peaceful state of slumber, stealing you from the sanctuary of shared dreams. His arm is looped around your waist, your back to his chest.

He's keeping you close. Doesn't wanna do anything, just doesn't wanna be alone. More specifically, he doesn't want to be without you.

Is paralysed by a new fear, it would seem; one in which you leave.

He wants to keep moments like these bottled up. Safe. Unbreakable.

An empty bed is really nothing to fear, but he's had a taste now of you with someone else. Has seen you with another man. Has met your ex. The guy you once thought was your forever .

Jeongguk isn't sure that he's capable of thinking that far ahead, but he has watched The Notebook upwards of a hundred times with Jimin. When he thinks of Noah, he thinks of Allie, and when he thinks of Allie, he thinks of you.

See, Jeongguk is more than capable of thinking that far ahead.

It's just that he was trained by the girl who used to hold his heart that forever was a silly concept. It's a slow process, but gradually, he is unlearning it. He didn't ever get his heart back from her; instead a new one bloomed in his chest where the empty space once was. It's armoured, this time. Little squares of silver glass act as a protective casing.

If it were ever to break, the pain would be catastrophic. He might just die.

And so Jeongguk would like you to stay.

As much as you'd like to, you know you can't - Danbi and Hoseok have pre-booked you in for a 'friend date.' Under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to bail on it, even if it does mean leaving an incredibly sulky Jeongguk to survive his hangover alone.

You're not sure at which point last night you both decided that sex wasn't on the agenda. It was never discussed. Just never happened.

Instead, Jeongguk had kissed you.

Again, and again.

Until your lips were numb, and yet you could feel every deliberate coming together of your bodies. Soft declarations of affection, reserved only for the gentlest forms of love. Something of which you know better than pretend you could have with him.

It's well established, now, that Jeongguk is simply breaking down your intimacy boundaries. Is showing you that you can do all these things you deem to be intimate, without them actually having to mean what you think they do.

In theory, it's working. Kissing Jeongguk doesn't scare you.

In practice, Kissing Jeongguk does terrify you.

Not for the act itself. You do that willingly. Wantingly.

But for the fact that you're unable to think straight when you look at him, these days. It's not working. You can't separate the intimacy from the act, but you're so far gone now that it's almost impossible to go back, so instead you're stuck in this limbo.

You never want anything to change, but you're doing this all because you're trying to encourage change. It's fucked. Utterly, undeniably fucked.

These two entities - who you both are during the daytime, and who you both are when the sun goes down - are converging at rapid speed. It's getting harder to distinguish which is which.

All that's certain is that two orbiting stars will eventually, always, inevitably crash.

It's a countdown. Celestial union, or blackhole. Both feel equally terrifying.

Much better to pretend as if it isn't happening.

Easier.

"Can't," you whisper. Reinforce boundaries that have long since been broken. "Told you, I'm a busy girly. Book me in for a friend-date next time you wanna see me."

The phrasing is deliberate. A reminder of where you currently stand with one another, as declared by him more times than you care to remember.

"We had a night out," he sulks. "It automatically is a two-day affair. Always is."

"No, it's not," you softly laugh, getting out of his bed and finally putting your clothes back on. Your outfit from the night before is pretty basic, so you don't need to steal one of his shirts to protect your dignity. Disappointing .

You're out the door by midday, leaving Jeongguk to fester in his hangover pit alone - of which he does. For hours .

It's partially the hangover. Mainly the fear-induced paralysis that has overtaken his body. All he can do is stare up at the birds and wonder how the fuck it got to this point.

By the time Taehyung shows up at Jeongguk and Jimin's place that evening, Jeongguk's wearing clothes. Has managed to go a whole thirty minutes without complaining about his hangover. It's a record. Jimin knows. He's been counting.

It's bad. Skull-splitting, eye-dehydrating kinda bad. A hangover he wouldn't wish upon his own worst enemy.

This is a lie.

He wishes Seokjin nothing but hangover headaches for the rest of eternity. Scowls when he thinks about Seokjin. The tension of his muscles further exacerbates his headache. He knows it serves him right for thinking such negative thoughts - but as far as he's concerned, it's just another to be annoyed at Seokjin for. Prick.

Throughout the day, you've sent him pictures of your incredibly sorry state - glitter everywhere, hair piled on top of your head. Kind of matches his hair, of which is still tied in a scrunchie that you'd put him in the night before.

The last picture you'd sent through had dropped into his inbox fifteen minutes ago. Was read immediately.

Carrying a soda the size of your face, you're with Danbi and Hoseok, as promised, heading into a movie theatre downtown. He can't remember what you'd said you were seeing. Some superhero movie, he thinks, that he knows he'd care way more about if he didn't feel like such ass.

In fact, Jeongguk thinks he'd rather die than be at a movie theatre right now - but he also does like the idea of a dark room right now. Perhaps you aren't entirely insane.

Jimin had insisted on something 'healthy' to get Jeongguk out of his hangover slump, which is why, as Taehyung chucks his coat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, he's stuffing his face with a chicken teriyaki wrap.

"Fuck me," Taehyung laughs. "A little worse for wear?"

Jeongguk just grunts. Hair all over the place, still haphazardly half-tied up by one of your scrunchies, he's covered in glitter.

There's no mistaking who he spent the night with - not that he cares to hide it. Can easily explain that you put the glitter on him, if anyone asks. The scrunchie, too. And if they don't? Fine. Let them assume what they like.

"How's DB?" Taehyung follows up, stealing a little lettuce from the chopping board, before plonking himself down next to Jeongguk - which earns another groan.

"Fine," he says through a mouthful of chicken and tortilla wrap. It really is not his finest hour. "Said she wanted to die just before they got to the cinema, so I'm sure she's gonna have a great time."

Funny, how those little phrases and intricacies of your identities seem to weave together these days. You're apparently constantly on the verge of death, and he's perpetually covered in glitter. Quite the pair, you make.

"S'pose that's what birthday weekends are for, aren't they?" Taehyung shrugs, not really thinking much of it, and not noticing the way Jeongguk seems to freeze.

Mouth full, wrap in hands, he almost chokes.

Jimin just asks, "It's Danbi's birthday? Why didn't you mention it? We could have-"

"Oh, no. It's not," Tae says, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He tilts his head. Why on earth would Jimin assume that?

The confusion is contagious. Not a single one of them understands exactly what's happening.

"Danbi's birthday isn't until the summer," Tae continues, a little caution in his tone. Has had it in his calendar since the first date. Is already planning a trip away for them both. Looks at Jeongguk, who is still frozen in position, like a frame in a cartoon that the animators forgot about. And then, he realises. "Gguk..."

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk says. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, mouth still half full, even if he has tossed the rest of the wrap back down onto his plate.

The penny drops slowly, and then all at once.

"Oh, holy shit," Jimin says, getting to his feet, 'cause apparently the shock is that severe.

"You didn't..." Taehyung gasps, not finishing his question. "Gguk!"

"I didn't!" Jeongguk insists, swallowing down the bite of his wrap that had been suspended in his mouth for far too long.

And he really didn't - didn't forget , that is.

You've never told him your birthday. He's never asked.

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Jimin parrots.

"Fuck," Tae also echoes, but adds, "Dude... what the fuck?!"

Jeongguk stands. Begins to pace. Moves his hands in bizarre little motions as if he's trying to piece everything together.

Not once have you ever told him your birthday, he thinks.

"I swear, she never mentioned it," Jeongguk whines.

And he's right.

You haven't.

It's not without reason.

In a few short weeks time, it'll be a year since your first purple starfucker.

Though it was Hoseok's break-up you'd been commiserating, your own hadn't long since passed. The wounds still stung and it was better to lick salt off the back of your hand before a tequila shot than it was to sprinkle it in your emotional damage instead.

Drowning your sorrows had led you to Dionysus, your heart break just as fresh as the lemon that followed the tequila shots. The bitterness of the fruit didn't compare to the bitterness in your heart.

Hardly a surprise, though.

Break-ups are never easy - just like forgotten birthdays are always sad.

When your boyfriend asked to reschedule dinner plans and then showed up to your apartment at just gone midnight with no apology? No realisation of what he'd done so terribly wrong? A little ruby red rouge on his earlobe that you both knew came from the lips of someone else?

Oh, it was tragic .

Counter arguments of 'if it meant so much to you, why didn't you remind me?' frustratingly cursed in the dead of night, and pleas of 'I shouldn't have to beg you to give a shit about me' framed your demise.

And so Jeongguk has never experienced your birthday. Can't forget it, if he never knew it, you theorise. Not like Seokjin should have done.

Jeongguk doesn't know the flavour of cake you'd pick, or if cake is something you even choose to have on your birthday. He doesn't know how you do your makeup, 'cause he knows most girls go for glitter on their special day - but by that metric, every day would be your birthday.

You're thankful to have not had to discuss it. Part of the reason you like spending time with Jeongguk is the fact that he lets you forget ghosts of the past - and this time last year does still, regretfully, haunt you.

It's not like you properly celebrated Jeongguk's birthday with him, either.

Granted, it had been a boy's night - and a pretty quiet one, at that - but still. It was six months ago, though. Longer, in fact. So much has transpired since then.

The entire fabric of your friendship has been embroidered and embellished to the point of it being unrecognisable. What once was cheap tulle is now layers upon layers of glittering, sequin-emblazoned material, stitched with the finest of threads. There are constellations in your hems, and stardust between the seams. One of a kind. Impossible to replicate. Many will try; all will fail.

"Was it today? Yesterday?!" Jeongguk frantically asks Taehyung, 'cause he seemingly knows more. This acknowledgement pisses Jeongguk off. He should know this shit. Taehyung shouldn't. "How do you know?!"

"There's a bunch of birthday cards in their apartment-"

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans.

"Was literally yesterday-"

"YESTERDAY?" Jeongguk shrieks. Stops dead in his tracks.

If the Rock, Paper, Scissors battle had gone a little differently, he'd have known.

If he'd have insisted on taking you home, he'd have known.

So many tiny, meaningless decisions had led you back to his place last night. If he'd have been wiser or smarter, maybe he'd have realised. Maybe you had been giving him signals, and maybe he had missed them all.

And then his mind is jumping from conclusion to conclusion.

Did Seojoon know? Had he gotten you a gift? Oh, God. It's all so fucked.

But then he's thinking about Seokjin. Has seen white roses and a calling card on more than one occasion. Not for a while, granted, but he also saw the look on Seokjin's face when he'd insinuated that you'd moved on.

"Roses," he panics. Looks at Taehyung with such horror in his eyes, that it's a miracle he doesn't burst a blood vessel. "White roses. Were there any at their place?!"

"I don't think so?" Taehyung guesses, trying to remember what the apartment looked like when he last left. "I mean, I don't remember noticing any."

Jeongguk nods. Puffs out a breath from his marshmallow cheeks. Holds his knees as he keels over a little, body ravaged by a stress he doesn't quite understand. He resumes his posture a little too quickly, the pain of his hangover shooting straight back to his brain.

"Right. Shit," he curses. Then curses a couple more times. Pushes his hand back through his hair and then looks at his friends.

Though they're both well aware that missing a birthday is never good, Taehyung and Jimin are surprised at just how badly Jeongguk is taking this.

Feeling bad is one thing. Looking like he's just committed crimes worthy of jail time? A little excessive.

As Jimin smirks, Jeongguk snaps, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just acting like-"

"Don't," Jeongguk warns.

"-You're in love with her, or something."

He doesn't deny it.

Just rolls his eyes. Doesn't have time to waste debating the true nature of his feelings right now - especially not when he knows Jimin would never believe his denials, regardless.

"She never told me," Jeongguk steers the conversation away from matters of the heart. Wants to focus on logic instead. "Was with her all evening, and she literally didn't mention it once."

He explains the night before. Leaves out the part where you were his favourite date of the evening. Also leaves out the part where he held your hand on the entire cab ride home, and the way he'd kissed you once you were finally in the confines of his room.

There were no expectations; no illusion that it would lead to anything beyond a kiss.

And it didn't.

He'd kissed you just to kiss you. Slowly. Intentionally. Kept his dick well away, 'cause he knows how often the pair of you escalate things beyond the point of no return.

It had confused you at first. Made you worry a little - but the way he encouraged you back in whenever you pulled away let you know just how deliberate he was being.

"Shut up," Jeongguk had smiled into your lips when you'd given a small hum of perplexion. "Just kiss me."

And now he's standing in the living room, stroking at his bottom lip as if he's trying to remember the way you felt; if the poutiness has been from pleasure or disappointment.

"Okay. So?" Jimin just shrugs. Really does think Jeongguk should chill out a little, but knows that he won't. "She must have not wanted you to know."

Jeongguk doesn't like this. Scowls. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Some people just don't like birthdays," he shrugs again.

"Nah, Danbi baked her a cake," Taehyung interjects. Laughs to himself. Is disgustingly fond. "Danbi is great at many things, but baking is not one of them. I don't think she would have gone to all of that effort if DB doesn't like birthdays."

Just one look at you is enough to know that you're the kind of girl who enjoys birthdays. Of course you do. The pomp and pandemonium of party poppers? How could you not enjoy such occasions?

"Fuck," Jeongguk curses as he begins to pace once more.

On the one hand, it's not the end of the world - but on the other, he feels awful that he didn't make a fuss. Didn't get you a present.

But then there is also the worry - what if you had told him? What if he's just forgotten? What if the only reason you didn't mention it was because you wanted to see if he remembered?

The aching lull of his hangover subsides. Is overthrown by the stress of failure.

Jeongguk is uncertain as to whether or not you like surprise parties - but he does know the effort you went to for his final exam celebrations. Knows that what you did for him is likely the sort of thing you'd like to be done for yourself.

After all, people show their love in the ways they wish for it to be reciprocated. You're both acts of service kinda lovers. Nothing is too much trouble. Anything to make the lives of the people you care about easier. Better. Happier.

"Okay," Jeongguk eventually sighs as thoughts begin to formulate. "We need to do something."

We ? They think, but don't voice. This is not a group project. This is a Jeongguk thing.

"Yeah," he thinks out loud, totally in his own world. Jimin and Taehyung watch on as he triumphantly nods to himself. "Do something. Okay. Fuck. Do what? What would B like? Fuck."

And then he groans. Throw his head back. The motion is a little too fast. His hangover pounds, reminding him of his fragile state - so he reaches for the chicken wrap he was half-way through demolishing when Taehyung dropped the birthday bomb on him. A little bit of brain food will surely do him good.

"You know her better than us, mate," Taehyung shrugs. Knows what he'd do for Danbi, but also knows Danbi is the type to arrange her own surprise party. "You're the best judge. You and DB are basically attached at the hip these days."

"Okay, one - no we're not," Jeongguk scoffs.

"Yeah, you are," Jimin objects through a mouthful of chicken. Is glad he's not the only one who's noticed. Yoongi's been so busy with wedding preparations recently that he's not been around to shake his head in despair at you both.

"We're not," Jeongguk insists.

"Danbi reckons you are-"

"Oh my god, let me breathe," Jeongguk whines. Rolls his eyes. " You're the one who's always with Danbi."

Taehyung smirks. Raises a brow. "Yeah? She's my girlfriend, Gguk."

The silence that follows is left vacant by Jeongguk. There's no response he could possibly give that would convince either of his friends that he doesn't feel a certain type of way about you.

It's written all over his face whenever you walk into the room; how Jeongguk fucking glows in your presence, glitter sparking on his once pristine skin. You've corrupted him, and he hates to imagine life in which he doesn't notice specs of glitter on his skin in the early morning light. He's a better man for knowing you. He thinks his friends would agree.

Undeniably, they would.

"Whatever," he eventually dismisses. Sighs. "How the fuck do you throw a party for the living personification of a disco ball?"

"Maybe you don't," Jimin suggests. "Maybe she is the party."

Jeongguk isn't sure what Jimin means by this. "Huh?"

"I don't know," Jimin admits. "Just thought it sounded cool. Disco balls are, like, the centre of everything, right?"

He's not wrong - at least not in a party setting. The disco ball you'd been gifted for Secret Santa is proudly hung up in your bedroom, and whenever the light hits it right, the walls are dappled in the most glorious of sparkles.

You really are the embodiment of one, Jeongguk thinks.

And as if he's just been hit with a dozen speckles of refracted light, Jeongguk gets an idea.

"Tae, have you got the code for their place?" He frantically asks, to which his friend nods.

Jeongguk has your door code, too. Knows it from the times you've invited him over and told him to just let himself in. Doesn't want to admit to that, though, which is why he asked Taehyung.

"Okay, text Danbi," Jeongguk says. "We're breaking in."

"We?!" Jimin exclaims. "I'm not breaking the law just so you can get your dick wet-"

"Jimin!"

"What?" He feigns innocence, as if he's not airing Jeongguk out like a freshly washed load of laundry.

"This is not about getting my dick wet," Jeongguk says in disbelief. "We don't even fuck-"

"Bullshit."

"-And shut up, she's your friend, too. We're all breaking the law, because that's what friends do for one another."

"We literally all know you fuck. You've got an incredibly warped sense of friendship, Jeongguk," Jimin assures him. "And committing crimes definitely doesn't fall under the dictionary definition of it, either."

"It's not breaking the law if I've got the code," Taehyung interjects, though if he's being honest, he's not really sure of the law. Just assumes it's fine. "What are we doing, though? Why are we breaking in?"

Jeongguk declines to answer. Instead, says, "Text Danbi. Tell her we're going there. They'll easily be another, what, two hours? At the cinema, right?"

Shrugging, Taehyung supposes that the timeframe is probably accurate.

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, head down, brain trying to order things succinctly. "Let me just shower really quickly. How far out is the place you get your art supplies from, Tae?"

"About forty minutes," he explains. Jeongguk's been with him a couple of times. It's always been Taehyung driving on those occasions though, so he doesn't really remember the location. "It's on their side of the city."

The plan is beginning to formulate in Jeongguk's head. Dots are connected. One big idea is trickling down into achievable steps.

"Alright. If I give you a list, can you run there and pick some things up? Jimin, you good to come with me to their apartment? To set things up?"

He doesn't elaborate on any of his plans. Will just waste time if he does - and the boys know not to delay a frantic Jeongguk. Will just make him even more irritable, and he's unbearable enough with a hangover.

"You didn't throw me a party," Jimin huffs - but is reminded that Jeongguk did in fact pay the bar tab for a night of extremely heavy drinking in Dionysus, instead. A week's salary? Pissed away. "Yeah, fair enough."

"Anyways," Jeongguk adds. "This isn't gonna be a party. Just us three and those three, I think. It's a bit too last minute for anything big."

"What about Nabi? Hayun?" Taehyung innocently asks - but the glare thrown his way by Jeongguk for even thinking to ask such a question says everything he needs to know. Eyes wide, a soft smile on his lips, Taehyung holds his hands up. "Hey, was just asking!"

"Well, don't," Jeongguk offers.

There's an ambiguity to Hayun's place in Jeongguk's life, these days. A couple instagram reels sit unopened in his inbox from her, 'cause he doesn't care to entertain her. The last time he'd seen her was at the surprise party you threw after his exam. The same one he left early, 'cause you weren't there and it made him feel all funny inside.

On occasion, he wonders if he's being too harsh. Wonders if maybe he should just talk to her; explain that he's not the guy he was. No better, no worse. Just different.

"She said you've been ignoring her," Taehyung adds. Doesn't doubt it.

"We've just got nothing to talk about these days." Jeongguk shrugs. He's in no mood to even so much as think about Hayun. This weekend is yours. Thoughts about her aren't welcome. "Anyways, doesn't matter. She's not Byeol's friend. There's no need for her to be there."

Taehyung pushes it no further. Respects Jeongguk's reasoning.

"Right you are. Give me your list before your shower," he says, wanting to get a head start on whatever it is Jeongguk's got planned. Doesn't wanna be the reason it fails. Knows Jeongguk seems to have a lot of emotion riding on this, and he wants his friend to succeed. Thinks it's about time a little happiness came his way.

Just like Danbi thinks you deserve it, too - which is why she insisted on going straight home after the cinema. The plan had been to go for a drink, or grab food - but Taehyung's slightly ambiguous but very desperate texts were all she needed to see to change the plan.

"Careful," Danbi laughs with you as you meander up the stairs to your apartment, a little uneasy on your feet because you're still feeling a bit rough. Popcorn tub in hand, you've barely touched it - which is unheard for you. No matter how large the serving size is, you nearly always finish it before the films even started.

You just couldn't hack it today. Put it down to the hangover. The sweet scent of the popcorn usually has you salivating, but it made you feel slightly sick today.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it," Hoseok offers, not wanting it to go to waste. He's already demolished his own popcorn and half of Danbi's. Just loves it. Think it's the closest thing humans have got to magic.

"Not so fast!" You say. "I will eat it - just need my stomach to settle."

It's the only big symptom of your hangover that's still lingering. Usually, it's your headache that is the most stubborn - but the surround sound of the cinema bullied that right out of you. Showed no mercy. Forced you to confront it head-on.

"If you let it go stale before you let me have it, I'll end the friendship," he warns - and you do know he'll absolutely be a baby about it. Will most definitely have a little tantrum, but nothing that would serve to end your friendship. He might just not share his own food for a few weeks.

"I won't," you insist. "And hey - it's my birthday weekend. You can't be giving me ultimatums like this, Hobes. Totally unfair. You should be, like, worshipping the ground I walk on."

Danbi checks her phone as you and Hoseok babble nonsensically, tailing just a little behind you to make sure you don't see her message thread. Sends one to Taehyung.

Home soon x

It's reiterated to Jeongguk and Jimin, who quickly get into formation - which is really just a straight line blocking the view of the coffee table.

Nibbling down on his bottom lip, there's really no need for Jeongguk to feel such anxiety - it's just that he knows he shouldn't know about your birthday. Knows he shouldn't be in your apartment right now. Knows you won't be expecting this. Knows that he runs the risk of upsetting you, just in case there's a more substantial reason as to why you withheld your birthday from him.

"Fuck," he whispers, hearing the three of you amble up the stairs. "Do you think we should go?"

"Gguk," Taehyung deadpans. "It's a bit late for that."

"I know but-"

"Shush," Jimin laughs, as the sound of your conversation grows closer. "They're near."

Nodding, Jeongguk does as he's told, bottom lip kept stable beneath his top row of teeth. Tongue toying slightly with his lip ring, he doesn't even know how to explain what you're about to walk into. Decides it's better to just simply stop thinking at all.

The beep of your door code being entered echoes the thump of his heart, until the lock clicks. Bolt retracts. The door is pulled open, and Jimin counts a quiet, 3, 2, 1.

The way in which all three of them - Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung - burst into a chorus of 'happy birthday to you' is comical - all singing at slightly different tunes, volumes, and tempos. It's a jumbled mess, and they all refer to you by different names - but as you stand with a bemused smile by your door, Jeongguk knows it's worth it.

And finally, he begins to smile, too.

The anxiety and nerves are replaced with the unadulterated joy that comes with seeing you - and given the way you had said goodbye to him earlier that morning, he's glad that you seem equally as pleased to see him.

It's not that you'd had an unpleasant goodbye. Not in the slightest. If anything, it was too pleasant.

Jimin hadn't yet woken. The pair of you had been standing in his doorway; you fully dressed and ready to go, Jeongguk in a pair of sweats and nothing else, save for the scrunchie of yours still in his hair.

The pair of you had been a mess of giggles and 'go,' despite him pulling you back. 'I'll text you later' and knowing nods, but then 'wait, come back.' Grabbed waists and stolen kisses that neither of you had any business taking from one another. So many kisses. Pretty, dainty kisses, on his pretty, darling lips.

He'd held your hand as you walked away from him for the final time. Was a broken man when you eventually let it fall from your grasp, turning around with a coy smile as you headed for his elevator.

Glitter in his dishevelled hair, stars in his dark brown eyes, Jeongguk had been everything . Had been the boy next door, with his sweet giggles and appled cheeks. Had been the bad boy you know you should stay away from, with his messy locks and tattooed skin. Had been the mirror of you, with his glitter-covered skin and love-drunk gaze of adoration.

You'd spent a great deal of your time in the cinema fretting over it. Overanalyzing. Overthinking.

What if it was too much? What if he knew just how violently the butterflies had been swarming in your diaphragm? What if he'd just been reciprocating your actions because he hadn't wanted to make you feel bad?

Yet when you see him now, you know that none of those questions, nor their answers matter. Whatever is happening between you both simply doesn't matter.

You don't want clarification. Don't want to open yourself up to hurt. Just want things to stay exactly as they are.

Funny, really, how Jeongguk had been fretting just the same. Worrying that he had done too much. Is aware of how deeply intimate you regarded kisses to be. Should have held back. Should have fucked you last night. Should have done a bird. Stuck to the rules.

Instead, he had just kissed you.

Is well aware of the message it sends. Has been worrying that it perhaps isn't a message you wish to receive. Still doesn't know for sure - but knows that he'd like to keep things exactly as they are.

Just like you do.

Might be reading different books, but you're on the same page. It's like being in a mysterious book club. Just gotta wait until one of you decides to read aloud - but neither of you wants to be the first to go.

"What is this?" You laugh, utterly confused by everything in front of you.

Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung stand in a row, adorned in the silliest of photo booth props - party hats, feather boas, novelty glasses. The room around them is dressed to the nines - steamers, lights, bunting, things hanging from the ceiling - and there are half a dozen packets of polaroid film for your camera.

"It's your birthday party," Jeongguk says a little shyly. Looks behind himself, as if to check it's all still there. Smiles when he looks at you again. "You really thought you could get away with it, huh?"

Puffing your cheeks out with a little air, you scrunch up your face, surprised that he's scolding you - albeit very playfully - in front of other people. Flirts like this are typically reserved for your time spent alone together.

"Don't know what you mean," you smile, as Danbi and Hoseok encourage you further into the room. Looking around, you can't hide just how touched you are by the chaos surrounding you. There's something new, something different everywhere you look. "This is insane."

And it's only even more overwhelming when the boys part ways, and reveal the coffee table to you. On it are a dozen different papier mache shapes - Roman letters for your initials, ambiguous animals, and different-sized spheres - and what must be thousands of tiny mirrored squares. There are adhesives in abundance. Everything you need to make your very own disco balls - or some sort of iteration, at least.

"Guys," you say softly, appreciation lacing your voice. Have stars in your eyes, not just around them. "What is all this?"

When you pout in their direction, hands over your heart, Jeongguk thinks it looks like you might cry. Hopes you won't. Fears you will. Pulls you in for a hug to remedy it. The rest of your friends talk amongst themselves. Greet one another. Enthuse over the state of the place. Give you guys a second to one another.

"What the fuck?" You laugh softly into his chest. "Gguk, you didn't have-"

"Shut up," he smiles. Presses a kiss against your hair. Is discrete enough that no one notices. Smiles. "It was your fucking birthday , B."

"So?"

"So," he emphasises as he pulls away, holding your shoulders. "Birthdays aren't about the birthday person. Not really."

"No?" You laugh.

He beams. "Nope. They're for the people who love the birthday person."

It shouldn't come as a surprise that your best friend loves you. It should be expected. Shouldn't make you feel the way that it does. Oh, it's all so beautifully fucked.

"Kinda like a funeral," Jeongguk ponders out loud, not dwelling on the unintentional mention of love. "They're a time to show appreciation for the deceased. Birthdays are just the same."

Laughing, you shake your head, and let him manhandle you a little further into the room to have a better look around. "I don't think birthdays and funerals are that similar."

"Well," Jeongguk says. "You didn't tell me about your birthday, and I doubt you'll be the one telling me about your funeral, either. So they'll be similar in that regard."

Cringing, your shoulders tense slightly. Jeongguk simply rubs them, easing your awkwardness. "You've got a point."

"I know I do," Jeongguk laughs. Drops his hold on your shoulders to grab you a glass of the premade drinks. There are six of them. Long, not short. Purple. Raising your brow as you accept it, Jeongguk nods. Confirms your assumptions. "The long version of a star fucker. Star lover, I think we called it."

Fitting .

Joining your friends to sit around the coffee table on the floor, music humming from the speaker, you're lost for words.

There are no actual words that can be used to express your gratitude, you think. Nothing you can say to articulate how much this means to you.

"How did you even plan all of this?" You laugh, unable to contain your happiness.

"Don't look at us," Jimin laughs right back. Nods over to Jeongguk. "He's the mastermind, over there."

Glancing across to Jeongguk, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the nonsensical idea that his starry eyes are reserved for you, and you alone. He shrugs.

"You didn't give me much choice," he asserts.

"Wait," Hoseok interrupts, finally piecing it all together. Had just been in a bemused state of 'what the fuck' since arriving. Looks at you with horror. "You didn't tell him it was your birthday?!"

Awkwardly scrunching your face up, you shake your head. "I just didn't wanna be a bother."

It's not entirely a lie, but it is also an incredibly superficial explanation. There are layers to your reluctance to share your birthday with Jeongguk. Reasons. Past disappointments. Ones that Hoseok and Danbi are well aware of.

Even though he thinks of it, Hoseok doesn't mention last year. Doesn't reiterate his opinion of Seokjin being a heinous asshole for what he did.

Instead, he accepts your answer. Does tell you that you're an idiot, though.

"Hey," you whine. "It's my birthday weekend. You have to be nice."

"He's right, though," Jeongguk backs him up.

The smile he gives you is fond. Could call you the nastiest names he likes, but with a gaze like that? All you'd hear is a sweet melody reserved just for you, sung only by him.

Laughter echoes around the room as the evening settles in. All opting for slightly different shapes, your disco balls are truly an embodiment of who you are. Danbi is decorating a T, and Taehyung is decorating a D. It's all very vom-inducing - but they're too sweet for you to take the piss.

Jimin does it enough for everyone, anyway. Tells them that they're the most disgusting couple he's ever known.

Funny, how this attestation makes Jeongguk glance in your direction. Wonders what he'd think of you two as a couple. Knows that he'd probably also think you were disgusting if he saw how the pair of you behave together, sometimes.

Hoseok has gone for one of the animals. It's just the head. Can't decide if it's a cat or a dog, but decides it doesn't matter. Tells everyone it's definitely a squirrel. Nobody else can see his vision.

Jimin was going to do a J, but upon seeing Danbi and Taehyung's couple letters, opted for a cube instead. Disco balls go against all of his interior design desires, but he'll make an exception for you.

Traditional in his choice, Jeongguk is painstakingly trying to perfect an actual disco ball. Chose the second biggest size. Wanted to do the biggest one, but also wanted to use this as a practice run. Maybe he'll make a hobby out of restoring broken disco balls.

Beside him, you're also doing a sphere - just a much smaller one. Cuter. Daintier.

"That's so unfair," Jeongguk pouts when you finish your first row of mirrored squares. He's barely even begun. Wishes he'd set his sights on something smaller.

"Go big or go home," you remind him - then head to the fridge to get the jug of Jeongguk's special cocktail. Topping up everyone's glasses, you know exactly how this night is gonna go - and you couldn't be more pleased.

"You're trying to get me drunk," Jeongguk grins when you finally reach his glass. "Trying to sabotage my disco ball making skills, aren't you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sorts," you assure him - but honestly, you think the imperfections, if any, would only add to the charm. "You made the drink. It's on you if you can't handle it."

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, challenged. Takes a sip. A really fucking big sip. Nearly finishes it. "I'm a bartender, baby. I can handle it."

Laughing, you pretend to have not heard the way he just called you baby. He was just messing around. Didn't mean it.

"Sure you can," you tease, filling his drink back up. And so he repeats it. Half-flirting, half-competing against nobody. And so you top his drink right back up again. "Someone's got something to prove."

A second night of drinking in a row isn't what you'd been anticipating, but you welcome it. Think that you need a couple of drinks to handle the confusion of how you're feeling. 

As the disco ball construction descends into chaos, and no one is quite able to get the spacing or positioning just right, you realise that this is the magic of a disco ball; how the broken can still be beautiful.

Yet when you look at your small creation, you're pleased. Sure, the lines are a little uncoordinated. There's a wibble wobble here and there - but it's yours .

Danbi and Taehyung manage to make theirs look pretty good, and Jimin's isn't too bad either.

Hoseok protests. Say they had it way easier.

"You chose that shape," Jimin laughs. "Don't blame us!"

For all of his artistic talents, disco ball crafting is not one of Hoseok's. It might also be that he's had six of Jeongguk's little cocktails.

He's had to remake the cocktail twice already, given how frequently you're all topping up for glasses from the jug. It's gonna be a messy night - but for once, there's no uncertainty over whether or not Jeongguk will be going home with you, for he's already here.

"It's my day off," Jeongguk jokes on the third remake. "Should be paying me."

"I'll make it up to you," you quietly promise him with a smirk, out of earshot from your friends.

He looks at you with inquisitive eyes as if to question what on earth you could possibly mean by that - and decides he's better off not questioning it. Will revel in the ambiguity of whatever the fuck is going on between you. Enjoys the flirt too much, especially when he's a little tipsy.

"Wait, wait - a little to the left!" Danbi instructs Taehyung as they begin to string up the makeshift disco balls in the meantime.

It's a labour of love, but it's worthwhile. Eventually, one by one, all of the creations take their rightful place, haphazardly tacked to the ceiling with tape that's a fair amount stronger than Jeongguk's washi tape. The sunset lamp you and Danbi rarely use is turned on. Pretty pink and peach reflections cascade all over the walls, dappling you all, too.

The clandestine touch of your hands as you pose for pictures is hidden from your friends.

There's an awareness that the way in which you're behaving is not normal of friends; that the lines between who you think you are, and who you truly are, have become blurred. There's a giddy silliness to it all, and it's why neither of you want it to stop. Childish, and stupid, it may be - but it's freeing, too. A farewell to the expectations that have kept you both in boxes for so long.

By the time you've drunk home bar dry, Hoseok is already asleep, and Jimin isn't too far behind. They're crashing in the living room, so you fetch their duvets and bedding, while instructing Jeongguk to go to your room.

"I can sleep out here," he offers. Doesn't wanna make things awkward for you - but you shake your head.

"Always save on the heating bill when you're here," you tell him. It's not a lie. It's also not why you want him in your room, either.

Thing is, you're both fucked. Jeongguk's mixing was getting stronger and stronger with each new pitcher. There's nothing either you can do to fight the drunken sleep that takes over as soon as you're beneath your sheets.

It makes it even more shocking that when you wake up the next morning, you're without a headache. If anything, you feel worlds better than you did the morning before and it worries you. Likely means that you'll crash later on in the day.

Jeongguk's not awake, so you slip out to grab water for you both. It's still dark, curtains drawn, but you can see light seeping in through the cracks. There are no curtains in your living room, and your phone is dead so you've no idea of the time. Dread to think of how long Jimin and Hoseok might have been awake.

"Oh, holy shit," you whisper in surprise as you walk into the living room, greeted by Jimin, sitting on your couch like a meerkat, posture perfect. He's wrapped in a soft blanket, face puffy from last night's lack of water and abundance of vodka.

"Mornin' DB," he croaks, channelling his best ET. Keeps his eyes glued to the television - where Allie and Noah are talking about birds.

"Notebook?" You ask, not that he needs to answer. You've watched more times since you've met Jimin than you have in your entire life.

He nods. Croaks. "You got any paracetamol? Dunno what Jeongguk put in those drinks but I think he might have been trying to kill me."

Before you can answer, a sleepy and dishevelled Jeongguk emerges from your room, shaking his hair out with his hand. He yawns, and says, "I was."

"Knew it," Jimin groans, flopping down to lie on the sofa. He's really not made for hangovers. "What were we even drinking?"

Jeongguk comes to stand beside you, hand on your hip as he reaches around to grab the phone charger plugged into the socket by the toaster. Speaks to Jimin as if he's not driving you insane. "Star Lovers."

He cements the name. Gives it delineation. A place in your life. Squeezes your hip as he says it. Wonders if you notice. If you're aware of his intentions.

You are - you just tell yourself he doesn't realise what he's doing.

"Tae and Danbi up yet?" You ask. Jimin just grunts. Is obviously feeling just like Jeongguk did the night before. "Where's Hobes?"

From the bathroom, you hear another grunt.

"You good?" You laugh, calling through to your fallen friend.

Another grunt.

"Put you down as a maybe," you say, but get him a Powerade from the fridge regardless. Pass it over to Jeongguk. "Can you give him this?"

Jeongguk looks at you with a little confusion.

"Don't wanna walk in on him if he's got his cock out," you say. In the past? Probably wouldn't have phased you. Now? Still wouldn't - but you don't wanna have to witness anyone else's cock right in front of Jeongguk, for some reason.

"Well, nor do I!" He protests, and passes it right back.

"Cock's not out," Hoseok whines from the bathroom. "Gimme fuel."

You narrow your eyes at Jeongguk, then proceed to deliver Hoseok's drink, only to nearly fall over laughing at his sorry state. He had somehow managed to retrieve his disco ball in the night, and is now hugging his ambiguous animal head tight to his chest, curled up around the toilet bowl.

"Think you killed our friends," you tell Jeongguk when you retreat to your bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth.

Jeongguk sits on your bed, shirt off, duvet pooled around his waist. Hair a mass, a lazily lopsided grin on his face, he's sin in the most heavenly of ways.

He shakes his head. Declares innocence. "They did it to themselves."

Now you shake your head. "You assisted."

"You're alive," he says. Is chancing his luck. Looks ever so pretty as he does so. "And I'm pretty sure you drank just as much as they did - so it's their fault. Not mine."

Humming some sort of disagreement, you leave the room to go and spit out your toothpaste, hopping over a still half-alive Hoseok.

When you return, Jeongguk's looking through some of the polaroids from the night before. You've no idea how many were taken - but imagine most of the new film is ruined with extreme closeups of Jimin and Hoseok's faces. They were doing that for, like, maybe ten whole minutes.

"Look at this one," he smiles, passing it over to you. "You should keep it safe."

It's one of you and Danbi, caught off guard, giggling about something. You rarely have pictures together - spend your time enjoying the moment instead of preserving it - so to have such a candid moment is precious.

Joining him on the bed, you don't really think much of the way you're sitting; staddled over his legs, looking down to where the pictures are on his lap.

"Hello," he says quietly.

"Hi," you whisper back.

"Come here often?"

"More than I should," you smirk, the double entendre dangerous for you both.

And yet Jeongguk licks his lips. Looks down to yours. Is shameless as he says, "Not enough. You should come here all the time."

"Well it's not like I 'come' anywhere else," you shrug, then cheekily correct yourself. "Sorry, not like I 'go' anywhere else."

Jeongguk is about to flirt back, but is thrown off by the way your body suddenly jerks a little.

Sucking air between your teeth, your hand presses against your abdomen. The swift pang of discomfort isn't unusual. You have ovaries. They don't always play ball. It's not the end of the world.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, cocking an eyebrow. Strokes your hip. Wants to soothe whatever is wrong.

Nodding, you sweep aside his concern. "All good."

He doesn't buy it. "What's up?"

"Nothing," you insist - and you genuinely mean it. A skipped month here and there really comes as no surprise. Your body isn't a machine. Sometimes it doesn't do what you expect it to, but for the most part, you're fine.

It's not until Jeongguk's brows furrow, head tilting, that you think perhaps you should be concerned.

"When did you last-"

"It's fine," you dismiss immediately, not really wanting to discuss your menstrual cycle as a form of foreplay. 

Your body just does this occasionally. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. The pain was a little sharper than usual, granted, but you were also drinking the night before. Your liver is probably throwing a tantrum.

"B, don't fuck around with shit like this," Jeongguk says, his tone not one you're used to hearing. It's direct. Stern. A little sexy, if you're being honest, but the look on his face would suggest now is not the time for a little flirt.

"I promise," you say instead, giving him a soft smile, hands cupping his jaw. "If I thought anything was wrong, I'd be the first to freak out. Just a couple days late. No biggie."

Jeongguk nods. Is seemingly soothed by your touch. Knows that what you're saying is likely true. Knows that you'd have already been to a pharmacy by now, if you had any reason to believe your skipped period was the result of his cock.

"If anything happens..." Jeongguk starts, but trails off. You wait it out. Let him gather his thoughts - of which he eventually does. "Just let me know when you get your period, m'kay?"

With a nod, you promise you will. "If it's not here within a day or two, it'll probably mean I've skipped this month. I can take a test if it will make you feel better?"

Without hesitation, Jeongguk nods. "Why not just do one now? Get it over and done with?"

"Because if I do a test today and get my period tomorrow, I'll be annoyed," you laugh. A single day really doesn't make that much difference in the grand scheme of things. "Plus it's a Sunday."

"So?" Jeongguk laughs.

"Lazy day," you smile. "I don't wanna do anything that requires heavy thinking - and let's not forget how much alcohol I've had in the past 48. I've definitely killed off any lingering pests."

Jeongguk scoffs. "My sperm aren't pests."

"Pests are annoying," you say. "And you are also annoying. Do the maths."

"You're literally sitting on my lap," he shakes his head.

"You can be annoying and sexy."

"You're unbearable," he tells you, but the softness of his smile and the dimples in his cheeks would suggest that he doesn't think that in the slightest.

Nudging your nose up against his, you smile. "And yet you're holding onto me for dear life, aren't you?"

His grip only tightens. Hikes you further up his lap. Reaches down to discard the polaroids. Gets you right where you belong. "Think your blood alcohol content is high enough to kill pests, still?"

"So you admit it?" You tease, ignoring his question. "Your cum is an annoyance?"

"I'll admit it if you stop begging for it every time we fuck."

"Let's try now," you whisper. Let your nose nudge a little further against his. Don't kiss him - but you could . It drives him insane. "Let's see how I do."

He's about to lift the hem of your shirt. About to retrace the steps of a dance you know by heart at this point. Is about to disregard any and all of his initial panic of the morning - but then you're both distracted by a subtle thud.

Glazing over to the wall between yours and Danbi's room, it doesn't take a genius to work out what's happening. There's a second thud. A third. Fourth. A sound that is a little different, but incredibly human.

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk laughs.

Whatever is happening in Danbi's room is exactly what was going to happen in your room.

"Oh my god," you laugh along with him. "Shit - Jimin."

"Let's go," Jeongguk taps on your thighs for you to get off, and you do so without hesitation.

The flirt had been fun, but it's not worth the humiliation of Jimin finally hearing you fuck. Jeongguk adjusts himself. Only has a semi, so it'll go down fairly quickly. Nothing to worry about.

"Oh thank God," Jimin hisses when you get to the living room. "Thought it was you guys."

"We don't fuck!" You both say in unison, and then look at each other as if you're offended by the quick denials.

"Right, yeah," Jimin mocks. "Totally believable. Good job, guys."

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs, coming to rough house with a very delicate Jimin. They're as boisterous as brothers; testament to their friendship formed before they were tall enough for roller coasters. Gets him in a headlock. Jimin bites his arm. "We're just friends."

Jimin says something, but is still biting Jeongguk's arm, so it's completely muffled. With a big grin on your face, you just turn the TV up and plonk yourself down beside them. "Grow up."

And just like your denial earlier, Jeongguk and Jimin pull apart to look at you with great offence, and both say, "You grow up!"

You're certain that the boys will never outgrow how childish they are, and it worries you that the same could be said for you and Jeongguk.

Looking up to the disco balls in your living room, you notice the small swirl at the bottom of Jeongguk's mirrored tiles forms a small heart, and wonder how intentional it was.

He'll never tell you. Will keep it a mystery.

The world's worst kept secret: how much Jeon Jeongguk adores you.

A silly little thought to have. Implausible. You've seen him around girls he's loved. Don't think you into that category.

The most stupid thing at all is that you're even thinking about it. Why would you care to be loved by him? Why would you want your favourite person in the whole world to adore you? Why does it make you feel all nervous and yet remarkably calm all within the same second?

And when you look over time, and catch his eyes, why does his smile make your heart hurt?

But then your ovaries act up again. Give you a little pinch to remind you they're still there, even if they're not doing their job properly.

That must be it, you think. Just heightened hormones from your cycle being out of sync.

A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts, but Jeongguk offers to get it. You let him. Watch on with great curiosity as he takes a second to assess what's been delivered. 

He looks down. Shakes his head. Scoffs. Lets out a laugh that sounds anything but humorous. Pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Is bitter - jealous - as he simply says, "It's for you."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[seek--rest]

the challengers ao3 tag I- any fic recs? Btw your works are *chefs kiss* you captured Tashis voice completely and I love how you explore things missing from the movie. In particular the relationship with her dad + the exploration of being a mixed woman in a predominantly white space (bc yh as a woc you have to work 10 times harder than yt ppl just to be seen + it's so much easier to fall from the place at the table you so rightfully earnt), some things I wouldve loved to see more in the movie. I also enjoyed reading missamyshay's fic so I was so excited to start reading the fic collab and it did not disappoint looking forward to chapter 3 ❤

the tag has 200+ fics and counting and so many of them are so fucking awful it's obscene. not because they're mostly porn before some shriveled kumquat gets offended; with how sexually charged the movie was, I'd be surprised if it wasn't smut-filled.

what's so fucking annoying is that it's already become a TREND for people to give Art Tashi's career-ending injury or to have Art cheat on Tashi with Patrick that I simply refuse to believe any of you fucking clowns that it has to do with making it gay or being creative. It's racist! You're all fucking racist and I'm sick of it! that the porn isn't even creative or interesting but is in fact, so derivative you could change out the two guys and make it literally any fandom is disappointing. much less how tashi is usually used (a term I say literally). generic dom/sub dynamics with racist overtones in fandom? groundbreaking.

It should not be RARE to have a fic be about Tashi - the Black woman at the center of the fucking narrative - where she isn't a snappy, mad Black woman, a hole to be fucked, made to be OOC or some simplistic understanding of who she actually is, barely a mention, or worse - not even included at all. I'm bracing myself for the day some idiot posts a fic where Patrick and Art raise Lily because Tashi "tragically passed away" for whatever reason. It's going to happen, I know how fandom works!!!!!!

n e wayz because i'm filled with both love and rage, here's some fic recs for you that actually giving Tashi some fucking respect:

love-all by leocornergirl

one night in atlanta by @missamyshay

back to the baseline by @the--journeys

#seek speaks #challengers #challengers movie #challengers fic #challengers 2024 #and before someone says 'but seek you must not have read-' yes. yes i have. #i didn't like any of the big fics for many reasons and no not because i'm a hater #i mean yes i'm a hater but i simply don't think 98% of people actually get tashi's characterization #and the tag (and the fics that are popular) give proof of that!

[bunnyreaper]

see on both sides

pairings - gabriel reyes x f!reader, niran pruksamanee x f!reader, gabriel reyes x niran pruksamanee wc -  4.2k warnings - dubious consent, power dynamics, dom/sub, threesome, possessive sex, exhibitionism. notes - sequel to i still get jealous, or read both on ao3!

The knock on the door comes as a complete surprise. 

A tough day of training has you wiped out, and you're half tempted to tell whoever is at the door to come back later. If you were still in your own quarters, you'd probably ignore it, but in case it's someone looking for Gabriel, you best answer. 

Even making it to the door is a slog, but your disgruntled expression is wiped away as you open the door to see a smiling Niran standing outside. 

"Hello Y/N." He greets, lips curled and eyes crinkled. 

"Oh, Niran, hi!" You reply, taken aback by his presence. While the two of you have been developing a friendship, he'd never paid a personal visit before. "How did you know where to find me?" 

"This was somewhat of a giveaway." He smirks, nodding to the nameplate by the door that reads COMMANDER GABRIEL REYES. 

"I'll give you that." You laugh. You're about to step aside to allow him in, before you freeze. "Can I help you with something?" 

His smile widens, and he appears just as charming as he always does. "I was just looking for a friendly ear." He states. 

"Sure, come in." You hold open the door for him to enter, and hope against everything you won't regret the decision. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"That wouldn't go amiss, thank you." 

You head for the liquor cabinet, and hope that a little drink will help take the edge off. Niran is your friend, but the last thing you want to do is give Gabe more reason to worry. Letting the blonde man into your apartment alone is sure to get Gabriel's back up a little—God forbid Niran leaves his scent on the couch cushions.

You frown harshly, reconsidering your decision. 

"Long day?" Niran pipes up, voice patient and inquisitive upon seeing your sour expression.

You school it back into something pleasant. 

"Something like that. How was your day?" You return to Niran, offering him the drink before you both take a seat on opposite ends of the couch.  "From what I've heard, you're usually in the lab much later than this." 

"Usually, but it is a Friday night, after all." He sends you a wink, which brings your nerves rushing back. "I work hard, but I play harder." 

Taking a long sip of your drink, you chuckle awkwardly. Niran is sweet, and you suppose his flirtatious nature is just how he is—surely, he doesn't mean anything by it. "I don't really have the energy for playing hard." You reply as a subtle rebuttal.

"Really?" He raises his brows, his smile remaining cheeky. "Has being with the Commander aged you prematurely?" 

"Very funny, Niran." Your eyes roll playfully. "A little, but I keep him young too. We like the balance." You offer in response, again attempting to dissuade any strange notions the man might be having. 

"So, how was your day? Hopefully a lot easier than mine." You ask, changing the topic. Niran's research is intriguing beyond belief, and his enthusiasm is infectious. 

He's about to reply, no doubt launching into an excited monologue, when the door opens. 

"Well, this looks cozy." Gabriel comments, a slight edge to his voice, and he stares at the scene in front of him.

Shit. You feel caught, even though you're technically not doing anything wrong. 

"Commander Reyes." Niran greets him quickly and cheerfully. "I'm glad you could join us." 

That nervous feeling is back with the way Niran greets Gabe like he didn't just walk into his own quarters. This isn't going to end well, you think. 

"Sit down, I'll grab you a drink." You rush back to the cabinet to fetch Gabriel a drink, knowing he could do with a little mellowing in the form of alcohol and being tended to by you.

Gabriel takes your seat, as you pour him a large measure of whiskey. 

"How was your day, Commander?" Niran asks politely, either unaware or uncaring of the complete shift in atmosphere. 

"Long." Gabriel huffs, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and making himself comfortable and at home. Almost like he owns the place, because well, he does. "But, I was looking forward to coming home and relaxing." 

"Well, this'll help." You interject, rushing over with the glass in hand as you thrust it toward Gabriel, a quiet way of saying 'Drink this and be quiet'.  

"Sit with me." He murmurs up at you, spreading his legs to accommodate you sitting between them.

So that's how this is going to go, you sigh. 

You seat yourself in between his legs, feeling his radiating warmth before whispering a warning. "Play nice." 

You turn your attention back to Niran, hoping to lighten the mood and do away with the mounting tension. 

Surely, when Gabriel sees the nature of your engagement with Niran, he'll see that you clearly show the man where he stands. "So, do you have other plans tonight, Niran?" 

"Not as such, no. See where the night takes me. I was hoping you'd be free for a little fun." He chuckles, clearly not sensing your desperation and discomfort.

Of course, he wouldn't make it easy for you. 

"Give me a little notice next time, I can show you a place or two, Gabe will come too, right?" Your laugh is still nervous as you clearly try to smooth things over. 

"We'll see." He says shortly.

"You know, not to play favorites, but you definitely have been one of the most welcoming at Overwatch." Niran continues entirely unprompted, and if you didn't find him so thoroughly likable, you'd strangle him to death with his own long blonde locks. 

There's no way he's this clueless as to the effect he's having, right?

"I try my best, I know what it's like to be new." You scramble to think of another deflection, hating the defensive stance you're having to take in every aspect of the conversation. You can feel how rigid Gabriel is behind you.

The two of you usually talk so normally. Maybe it's the weekend feeling, but Niran is clearly in a certain excitable mindset. 

"But I imagine there's a lot of people trying to ingratiate themselves with you right now." You add on, trying to turn the conversation away from yourself. 

"A little, but none as lovely as you."  He comments.

Does that smirk not hurt his face from maintaining it for so long?

"The coffee you make is divine, too." He has the audacity to look straight past you to Gabriel, and his comment makes you swallow thickly. 

Despite the initial aesthetic appreciation, your attraction to Niran is minimal. Yet he seems determined to misconstrue your intentions, whether by ignorance or malice, you don't know. 

"Oh, is that where you disappear during lunch?" Gabriel's voice is strained, and you can tell he's probably going to ask more questions when the two of you are alone. You're in trouble.

"Yeah... sometimes." You comment awkwardly, feeling self-conscious about it. Your ass is gonna be red raw later. 

Niran picks up the conversation. "I do tend to forget to look after myself when I'm busy working." 

The rest of his words fall on deaf ears, as Gabriel's arm slips around you, settling on your exposed thigh and offering a firm squeeze. He chooses the same time to press a delicate, distracting kiss to your shoulder. "Gabe." You whisper, but Niran stops talking. 

"Mmm? Something the matter?" In your peripheral, you can tell Gabriel's eyes are on Niran, sending him a heated look. "Just showing appreciation for my girl."  He comments simply, his voice laced with possessiveness.

"Uh..." You squirm uncomfortably, enjoying the attention yet wishing the two of you were alone. His hand stops squeezing, and his lips stop kissing, so you assume he's going to play nice and relax back into his hold.

"You always brighten my day whenever you drop by." The blonde continues, digging your grave further. 

"She has that effect." Gabe purrs, his demeanor shifting entirely as his hand dips down to your inner thigh, his fingers stretching out to trace across your clothed cunt.

"Gabe!" You exclaim, in complete disbelief, slamming your legs shut—horrified at the idea of him playing with you in front of your friend. 

"What?" He doesn't stop his movements, and you watch transfixed as Niran's eyes observe Gabriel's fingers move, with a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Our guest doesn't mind, does he?" Gabriel adds, his words a dare, a challenge. 

"Not at all. As long as you're enjoying yourself." Niran seems completely unfazed. 

You try to battle the steadily climbing arousal as you try to think straight. 

As your thoughts slip away, one final coherent thing slips through.

Niran's behavior was entirely on purpose. That bastard. 

"I, yeah." You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you give in to the pleasure and Gabe rubs at your clit through your shorts. You can still sense his eyes on Niran, and the thought makes you shiver. 

This display is for him.  

You're just a pawn in their game, but from how wet you are, you clearly can't mind all that much. 

"No need to hide from me." It's Niran's turn for his voice to turn silky and sultry, as he sips at his drink and continues to spectate your undoing. 

"Hear that baby?" Gabe coos, his voice much softer now, he has you falling apart on his fingers and all of his blood has rushed elsewhere too.  "Spread your legs, show him that pretty pussy." 

"I—" You hesitate for a moment, trying to think over the implications of the act and yet desperately wanting to comply with Gabriel's gentle commands. The rubbing only adds to your need to listen to him.

You allow your legs to fall open, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side to bare yourself to Niran.

His eyes sparkle with delight as he lays eyes on your flesh, and Gabriel's fingers move to find your nub unhindered. 

"She's so wet already." He offers, his thick fingers swirling said wetness around your needy nub. "She always is when I'm touching her. Tell him how it feels, cariño." 

Once more, he gives you a command, and you feel the need to obey as you always do. 

"Niran..." You whisper, your voice strained as you test the waters in voicing your pleasure.

"Yes, sweetheart?" 

You were already blushing under his gaze, but now your face is ablaze as nerves battle arousal. "Feels so good." 

Niran smiles in a genuine, sweet way. "Looks like he's taking good care of you." 

"Mhmm." You whine, slipping your eyes shut and concentrating on the pleasure, the tingling sensation, the coiling feeling.

"Tell her that you want her." Gabriel turns his commands on Niran, breaking an entirely new barrier. 

"Gabe—" You gasp, eyes springing open as you're shocked and somewhat concerned on behalf of Niran.

Yet, the man himself finds no objection.

"(Y/N), you look divine." He answers easily, his voice returning to its flirtatious tone. "From the moment I laid eyes on you, I thought about the sounds you'd make." 

Upon hearing his confession, Gabriel grows and starts working his fingers faster and harder, forcing you into deeper euphoria.

"This is the closest you'll get to touching her yourself." His words rumble through you. He works with fervor, drawing moans and gasps from you. "Enjoy it while it lasts." 

"Oh, I intend to." Niran winks, before returning his gaze to your exposed pussy and leaking wetness.

"Fuck, Gabe." You sigh dreamily, as you climb higher and higher. 

You desperately try to retain some sense, to think of the messed up nature of the dynamic and Gabriel's display, yet right now you can't bring yourself to care too much.

"Crawl forward baby." Gabe murmurs sweetly, as he releases you from his hold. 

It's now the hesitation comes crashing back. 

Gabe wants to fuck you, right here, right now. The fingering was one thing, but he's about to fuck you into the couch with your new friend sitting right there. 

"Gabe?" Your voice is questioning as you turn to him. "Niran?" You turn to the blonde, fully expecting him to call it a day and end this whole ridiculous power play. 

Instead, he reaches up, brushes the hair off of your face, and whispers. "Do as you're told, sweet thing." 

You swallow thickly and know there's no turning back now. Niran is more than happy to participate, even if it means all he can do is sit back and watch.

He compels you further to acquiesce to Gabriel's demand. You know you have to do it. 

"Okay." You whisper, your eyes fixed on Niran's as you crawl away from Gabe on all fours and present yourself to him. 

"Gabe, are you really going to do this?" You gasp as his greedy hands grip at your thighs and ass, pulling the flesh just how he likes it. 

"He's welcome to leave if he wants to." He peels down your shorts and panties, before pulling away to free himself from his confines.  "Or he'll be a good boy, and he'll stay. Understood?" He growls once more, displaying his authority and complete control. 

He wants to humiliate Niran, to use you in a show of dominance and possession. You hate how the thought of being claimed like this makes you shiver. 

"Yes, Commander."  You reply obediently. 

"Yes, Commander." Niran smirks, yet a look in his eyes tells you he's affected by Gabriel's dominance too, and his compliance isn't necessarily some cocky act. 

Gabe lines his thick, hard cock up with your entrance, plunging in quickly and relentlessly as he claims you. 

His hands settle on your shoulders, and he wastes no time in bouncing you against his cock and driving the two of you to the heavens. 

Niran's expression falls, as he becomes transfixed and undeniably aroused by the scene in front of him. His eyes flicker between the two of you attentively, his lips part with a slight gasp.

"Is this what you wanted to do, pretty boy?" Gabe asks, his voice wracked with pleasure.

"Something like that." Niran replies honestly, his voice soft.  

"Tough shit." Gabe snarls, driving his hips into you in a particularly brutal fashion that almost makes you scream. Your body was already sore, but it's only going to be worse when he's through with you.

"Fuck!" 

Gabe thrusts wildly, enjoying your mewls and moans. "Tell him how it feels, baby." His voice is sweet once more when addressing you. 

You meet Niran's eyes, almost hypnotized by the need to comply and follow Gabriel's word. The thought of perpetuating Gabe's control of you in this way also makes you shiver. 

"He's stretching me so much, he always does." You sigh, not wavering in your eye contact. 

"You're just so fucking tight." Your lover grunts. 

"And you're so thick. Always filling me up." The voice that comes from you barely sounds like you anymore, a sexy and confident tone that you're not used to—yet the situation is showing new sides of you all. 

"You take him perfectly." Niran whispers, the genuine smile returning to his face. 

"Y-yeah?" You stutter, his approval of yours and Gabriel's union making your heart soar.

"He could never fuck you like this, could he?" Gabe grunts, his voice strangled and yet trying to rein in the menacing tone. 

You shake your head wildly, eyes still on Niran. You should feel a sense of worry about Niran's feelings, but a primal part of you that's hazy and cock drunk doesn't care. You can sense his enjoyment of the situation anyway. "No one could, only you." 

Gabe's thrusts grow erratic for a moment as he drapes himself over your body, rutting into you further and bringing himself closer to Niran. "Mine." While the words are about you, they're not intended for you in the slightest. 

"Yours, Gabe, fuck." You cry out, the possession making you clench further. 

"That's it, say my name." He pants, his hips thrusting his thickness deeper inside you. 

You moan wildly, Gabriel's name the only thing on your lips. "Gabe—Gabriel!" You can sense his wicked, self-satisfied smirk. 

"Scream it for me." 

"Gabriel!" You scream, your eyes screwed tight. "You're gonna break me." 

"Ruin you for any other man." He purrs, his words laced with clear intent. 

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck!" You can't help but babble and mindlessly agree, though what he's saying is entirely true. 

"I bet he wishes he was me right now. With that pussy wrapped so tight around my dick, taking me so well."

Gabriel's words seem to push both of you further, as you moan in tandem. "He should know you need something only a man like me can give you." 

"I was made for your cock." You reply on instinct, the words coming so naturally in your submissive haze.

"Mhmm. How does she look?" Gabe asks, watching Niran watch you with blown-out pupils. 

"Perfectly blissful, eyes closed, lips parted." He comments breathlessly, transfixed by your pleasure. 

"Look at him while I fuck you." Gabe commands. "Let him see the look in your eyes as I ruin you, hermosa." 

Your eyes spring open in an instant, a new wave of intensity washing over you, seeing Niran once more. "Fuckfuckfuck." 

"His dicks so hard, he wants you so bad." Gabe chuckles as he directs your attention to the blonde's erection. 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, she does have a hand and mouth free." Niran chances his luck with a daring smirk. 

"Not anymore." Gabe changes position, pinning your arms behind your back with one hand, and using the other to stuff your mouth full with his fingers. He forces your head down and fucks you into Niran, your cheek cushioned on his thighs, so close to his hardness. You can't help but moan around Gabe's fingers.

"So selfish." Niran chuckles, a sense of confidence and teasing returned to him. 

You're still in disbelief that he seems to have been goading Gabriel all along. 

"Selfish?" Gabe spits. "Says the man making moves on what's mine." 

Niran meets Gabriel's eyes, the look he gives completely sultry. "In my defense, I wasn't only going to make a move on her." 

Gabriel stills suddenly, and you can't help but whine. 

"That so?"

Niran nods and Gabriel pulls out, leaving you fluttering around nothing as he stands. 

"On your knees." He orders, and assuming he's now going to claim your mouth too, you comply. He follows up with another command. "Both of you." 

"Gabe, are you—" You glance nervously between the two, once more concerned for Niran.

Yet, once more too, Niran complies—falling to his knees with a satisfied grin. 

"Show him how I like it, cariño." Gabe's hand settles into your hair as he guides you closer to his cock. 

You bring a hand up to stroke him, as you get to work worshiping him with your mouth. 

His head falls back in pleasure, as your practice tongue lavishes his head with attention. 

"You want your turn?" He grunts to Niran, giving him his attention as you pull away. 

"Please." Niran's voice is almost a whine, a tone you haven't heard from the man yet at all. Yet it matches the reverent look he has in his eyes.

"At least you have some manners now. Help him, baby."

You move Niran's hand to the base of Gabe's cock, as the two of you inch closer to the head. 

 "That's it." 

Yours and Niran's lips brush against each other as you both suck at the tip of Gabriel's dick, your eyes locked intensely. The strange intimacy sends a shock wave through you, along with the pleasure of feeling his lips against yours. 

Niran's tongue flicks out across Gabriel's tip as he seems to savor the salty flavor.

You shouldn't be surprised when Niran stops sucking and slips his tongue into your mouth, but it takes you a moment to catch up. Your eyes fall shut, and you get lost in the moment as he makes love to your mouth like he was to Gabriel's dick just moments prior. 

"That's enough." Fingers tug at the roots of your hair, and you assume the same is true for Niran. "You wanna kiss her, do it on my dick." He growls, and the two of you get back to work.

You're torn between the two men's gazes— Niran's lidded and lusty, while Gabriel's is hard and commanding. You can barely believe it's happening, but have little time to think as you and Niran conspire to bring Gabriel to his finish.

His hand guides you in tandem up and down his length, slickness and spit coating the skin. 

"So much better when your mouth's full, and you can't flirt with my fucking girlfriend." Gabe laughs, a hint of cruel indulgence in his voice. "Fuck, I'm close." 

Niran's eyes seem to light up at the idea of getting Gabriel's cum for himself, yet he's pulled off Gabriel's cock a second later. 

"If you think you're getting my load..." He chuckles once more. "Jerk me onto her tongue, pretty boy." 

"Gabe." You whine, your words warped around the way you slip your tongue out of your mouth obediently. 

"It's all for you, cariño." Gabe groans as Niran's slender fingers work at a furious pace on his cock. "Catch it with your tongue, maybe he can get the sloppy seconds." 

Niran's pace quickens at the filthiness of the comment, pushing Gabriel even closer. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" He groans, biting his lip in the way you know means he's right there. 

"Please!" You beg, your words and sweet doe eyes pleading for his release. 

Niran accompanies you in the begging, and Gabriel begins to spill all over your tongue with a harshly shouted groan 

"Fuck..." He moans, coming down from his high as Niran's fingers slow down before stopping completely. 

Gabriel strokes your hair lovingly before he cracks with a smile of mercy. "Kiss him, baby, give him something at least." 

You can't help but comply, surprisingly eager to share the moment with Niran once more. You cup the blonde's face before sharing a sweet, filthy kiss with him, one that ends in both of you swallowing parts of Gabe's load. 

Niran pulls away first, pressing a soft kiss to your lips once more before parting with a satisfied smile. Gabriel's hand strokes through his hair, too. 

"You okay?" Gabe asks, his eyes softened and gazing at you adoringly.

You giggle, a strange euphoria coursing through you. "I think so?" You're more than okay, yet undeniably a little confused and uncertain about the boundaries you all just crossed.

Gabe's attention turns to the blonde, the softness he was displaying remaining. "Niran?" 

"I'm fine. Better than fine" He replies with a smile before it drops to a playful pout. "Though I thought you'd at least let me finish." 

Gabriel laughs heartily, before a smirk sets on his features. "Then I wouldn't be putting you in your place." 

"Not like I got to finish, either." You giggle.

Gabe smirks. "I'm not done with you." 

A strange yet comfortable silence descends on the room, as Gabriel tucks himself away, and you try to catch your breath. 

"I should take my leave." Niran announces, standing up from his kneeling position. 

You tug at his wrist, concern washing over you. 

This undoubtedly changes everything, especially when the circumstances surrounding this were so murky. "Niran?" 

"Don't worry." He smiles earnestly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, before his fingers reach out to brush across Gabriel's hand and the two men share an uncharacteristically tender look. "Enjoy the rest of your night." He's entirely sincere, and holding no bitterness or regret as he pulls away 

"Night Niran." You whisper, still somewhat in disbelief. 

"Night Y/N, Gabriel." He calls out, as he makes his way to the door and disappears into the night. 

You and Gabriel wordlessly move to the couch, him pulling up your shorts and settling you in his lap—safe and secure in his arms. 

"Uh, that was... unexpected." You giggle, nuzzling into his chest. 

"Too much?" He questions, trying to sit up to get a look at your expression.

"No, not at all." You answer honestly. "A heads-up would've been nice, though."

"I wasn't planning on it. Not tonight anyway." 

You cuddle back into his chest, both amused and confused. "I didn't know you were that jealous." 

"I'm not." He mutters, a clear lie. "He wanted in, that's all I'm willing to give." 

You gasp in faux offense, "So you get your dick sucked, and I just get a kiss!?" 

"Who's jealous now?" Gabe smirks like a bastard as he strokes your hair. "You got three kisses, actually. But, I can call him back, have him lick your pussy... but only while I'm fucking you." 

"Maybe another time." The thought makes you tremble, with that idea being even more dominating than what you just did. "Gabe?" 

"What?" 

A shit-eating grin of your own spreads across your face. "I didn't know you were into prettyboys." 

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