#but to me at least (and i KNOW for a fact to half of the kstans lmao) it wasn't all that much (not that i could do better but just saying)

[clare-875]

Flirting For The Mission (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: You go undercover and flirt for information, your boyfriend doesn't particularly like it. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Harassment, Unwanted Touching/Kissing [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

The man in front of you is charming, or at least that's what he claims as he talks to you. "Women just can't seem to resist me it seems-" You force yourself not to sigh and not to leave your place next to him as you try to remind yourself what is at stake. Your crew was undercover again, on an island full of powerful enemies, and half of you had gotten captured. In desperate need of information, you had volunteered to flirt with this man, but you hoped the grimace on your face had contorted into a believable smile.

Fortunately for you, this man is so in love with himself he barely seems to notice, but unfortunately for you, it means you have to try a bit harder to get him to spill the information for you. You lean closer tilting your head in mock interest and you force a laugh from your throat at a tasteless joke he spills. He looks up and meets your gaze, eyes sparking in what seems to be surprise and desire; maybe he had finally looked at you properly instead of getting lost in his rants about himself.

A short distance away, Luffy, Zoro and Nami watch from a distance. Unfortunately for you, Nami had already been recognised by the enemy earlier on and so she hadn't been able to take your place, more required to keep a low profile. She was eying you carefully whilst Zoro indulged in drinks and Luffy indulged in the meal placed in front of him. In all honestly, Luffy had been so distracted by the prospect of food he had barely registered the plan that was actively taking place.

"Numi whe-re's [y/n], 'might be hungfy foo!!"

An irk mark rises on Nami's forehead as she hears Luffy's words muffled with the plates of food he devours. "She's trying to get us information, idiot! Were you even paying attention to the plan?!" She whisper-shouts to her Captain who tilts his head in utter confusion, hands not stopping as he continues to reach for food. "Reaflly? Where?" He swallows another plate-full harshly as he grabs a piece of meat. Nami nods her head in the direction of you.

You had leant even closer to the man in front of you, to the point where you were reaching for his hand and causing him to flush red at the proximity. You smiled prettily and gazed up and through your eyelashes, your dress revealing soft flesh that the man couldn't help but admire. He whispers something in your ear that has light laughter fill the air, though Luffy only thinks of the fact that it sounds more strained than usual. Your Captain doesn't know why a sudden twisting feeling erupts within him at the sight of you and him.

"Wow, so you're a commander of this lot, are you?" You say in what you hope is a teasing tone, playing with the man's hands in what you hope is a believable flirt. You nod to the others who are at the bar where you and some of your crew reside; at the men who enjoy their drinks and their meals. "Impressive, isn't it sweetheart? You know, we even captured some of the Strawhat crew this morning. They're nothing compared to our strength-" Finally, a glint of a true smile makes its way onto your face at his words. "Is that so..."

Back at the table, Luffy pouts and suddenly and surprisingly to Nami, slows the pace at which he eats as he watches you. "Why's she there with him?" Nami sighs deeply, though she looks proudly at the way you seem to be getting them the information they so require. "I told you, she's getting information. We need to find out where they're keeping Sanji and the others." Luffy's frown remains on his face. "Why can't we just beat them up?" Nami keeps her eyes trained on you. "Because we don't want unnecessary fighting-"

Her words seem to die on her tongue however as she witnesses a sight she wishes she didn't have to.

You had been about to leave the man in front of you, having got the information you required. But, in your distraction and excuses, you hadn't seen as he leant forward, and suddenly his lips were on yours. Freezing in utter shock, you pushed him back and away as bile rose within you. You see a flash of his confusion before all of a sudden he is flung from the seat in front of you, your boyfriend standing from his seat with an outstretched fist in the air.

Steam seems to unravel from Luffy's skin, his eyes sharp with an anger you have only seen in battles. He pulls his arm back to him from where he has punched the man who had harassed you. "Hey, what do you think you're doing to [y/n]!!" The man you had just taken information from was now unconscious, but his subordinates took notice of your boyfriend's actions. "Hey, it's Strawhat Luffy!!" Zoro takes it as a cue to retrieve his swords but it is for naught as Luffy goes on a rampage, fists flying along with the bodies of men.

You look on in shock until Luffy finally finishes and makes his way to you. "Luffy I-" But before you have the chance to continue, he has connected his own lips to yours, making your words falter in your mouth. When he lets go, Nami and Zoro are looking at you dumbfounded as Luffy grins at you. "There, all better." You blink in utter surprise until a soft, true smile reaches your face, causing Luffy's insides to churn in warmth. "Thank you, Luffy." Your boyfriend grins wider, satisfied with your contentedness.

"No more kissing for information next time! We can just beat them up!"

You continue to smile and try not to roll your eyes.

"... okay Luffy."

- Sanji -

"You expect me to stay here while that no-good, brainless, revolting, bastard touches my [y/n]-chan so carelessly?!"

Zoro's teeth clenched together in blunt irritation at the crew's cook who looks like he is about to explode from the utter rage that fills him. "Yes, now would you control yourself, damn cook?!" Sanji's anger remains on his face, fire building in his eyes at the nonchalant expression on Zoro's face, vastly contrasting his own. "Get out of my way!!" Sanji tries to side-step the swordsman who pulls out two of his swords. "She said she can handle it!"

There is then a flurry of movements as Sanji and Zoro attack each other, legs kicking and swords slicing. They continue only for a short moment, however, as Sanji hears your light laughter from within the building they wait for you outside. The two men pause, looking into a window and at the elaborate party that takes place from within it. As Zoro looks for potential threats, Sanji's eyes instantly go to you.

You are adorned in an utterly beautiful dress that elegantly glides across the space in which you walk side-by-side with a man you try to pry information from. Your group - the Sanji, Zoro, [y/n], group - had come to this Island later than other members of the crew after being separated. However, you had all learnt that Luffy and the others had been captured, resulting in the need to know exactly when and where. The place you were at now was large and full of enemies, so discretion was necessary, thus you volunteered to flirt with one of the executives in charge, much to Sanji's dismay.

Sanji's heart jolts in his chest as he looks at you from outside. How can you be so beautiful? You were like a goddess, an angel. But inside, Sanji felt as though he was also thrown into the pits of hell. The man you talked to was old and rich and completely enamoured by you it seemed. Your flirts and charm were working, as the man seemed entranced by the younger woman on his arm, showing such keen interest in him; Sanji's woman.

"So, powerful man, large mansion, elaborate party, what's the occasion?" You look up with sharp eyes glinting hypnotically; the older man is no match for you. "Well, we captured the Strawhat Crew this morning, if you could call that a source for celebration. Especially their Captain, though his bounty would only be enough to pay for this one party." You smile and let out light laughter, the sound like ringing bells to the man next to you, but it sounds strained to your boyfriend who listens in.

"Care for a drink?" The man holds out a glass of champagne, and you reach for it, but his hands linger and pull you closer to him so you are flush against his side. You force away the sick feeling in your chest and fight to keep the smile on your face at the sudden proximity of him against you. "Thank you," you murmur, as an uncomfortable feeling erupts within you. But you remind yourself you are so close, finally having heard the utterance of your Captain's presence here on this island. Your thoughts, however, are unlike Sanji's.

"That slimy bastard!"

Sanji's anger erupts with such vigour, that he is practically clawing at the glass he looks through, causing Zoro to have to push him back and away from the visibility of those inside. "Have you lost your mind?!" Zoro basically shouts at the cook, but Sanji retorts just as quickly. "Have you?! That's my girlfriend in there-" Zoro tries not to slice off the head of his crewmate, not understanding why he finds it so hard to let you just do what you need to do.

Lucky for him though, amid Sanji's incoherent rambling you have finished your task and were running up to them. "Hey, guys!! I got the information!" Sanji instantly freezes his words and turns, whilst Zoro finally lets his headache ease. "Finally-" "My Love!!" Sanji turns to you instantly, heart in his eyes at the sight of you still adorned in your dress. His hands however then reach for yours, suddenly as serious as his sudden happiness had come.

"Are you okay, love?" You smile gently at the concern that brims in his gaze but you nod easily, finding comfort in the presence of your boyfriend. "I'm fine, but I think we need to go quick before he notices I haven't just gone to the bathroom." Sanji seems to tense once more at the remembrance of the man and how he had touched you, but you seeing that, gently kiss his cheek before guiding him away. "Come on!" Sanji can't seem to say no to you as he nods hesitantly, all the while Zoro grumbles under his breath about how the show of your love has him nauseated and confused.

"Don't pull that lovey-dovey shit while I'm around-"

"Shut up Marimo!"

- Zoro -

"... I don't like this."

Zoro's voice was low as he eyed your figure by the bar, teeth gritted against the other. You were adorned in a beautiful black dress, one you know that he loves, one the man in front of you is enjoying a bit too much. "She'll be fine, she can handle this." Nami rolls her eyes at your protective boyfriend and the permanent frown on his face. He could trust you in battles to take down a thousand men, but not one at this bar who looks to you in clear desire.

"Why couldn't you do this?" Zoro sharply retorts, grip tightening against his bottle of sake to the point where it creaks beneath his fingers. "[y/n] knows these people, and you know we need to keep a low profile if we want to find where they're keeping Luffy and the others." Nami sighed as she thought of the crew who had somehow become captured again by powerful enemies. They needed information, and you were their best bet; it was the best plan they'd got.

Zoro stays silent to Nami's words, eyes not wavering from yours. He can see how you force a smile, hands lingering on the arms of the man in front of you flirty. You batted your eyelashes and laughed, making Zoro's insides churn. He tries to control his emotions and his haki that threatens to spill out from within him, cursing the way you have him so wrapped around your finger. He takes a rough swing of his beverage and continues to brood in the low lighting of the room next to Nami.

You, on the other hand, are getting bored beyond your mind listening to this man talk to you about his role on this vast Island controlled by pirates. The only reason you knew anything of these pirates was because their Captain had taken a liking to you many years ago, before you joined Luffy. But now you see how lucky you were that you rejected his advances to join such a revolting crew. The man in front of you reeks at the proximity you both share and his hand is coming dangerously close to your upper thigh.

"We actually captured a bunch of rookie pirates tonight, the crew of some idiot with a straw hat." The man continuously seems to lose himself to the alcohol in his grasp, but your heart jumps at the mention of your Captain's name. Finally. But just as you are about to get him to expand, that is when his lingering hand finally grasps for the flesh of your upper thigh, his yellowed teeth flashing beneath a sickening smirk. "So, sweetheart-" His words are cut short with the sound of shattering glass.

"Zoro!" Nami whisper-scolds the swordsman and tries to tug him back to his seat to very little avail. "That bastard..." The shattering of glass had been from Zoro's bottle of sake, its contents now spilt upon the table and his unrest causing many eyes to turn to them. But Zoro doesn't care anymore. All he sees is the uncomfortable expression on your face, the grimace that you try to contort to a smile, the hands of a man that isn't his on your figure; the woman he's meant to protect. He witnesses you try to pry back the attention of the man as you lean close to him, making him sick.

"Zoro, come on, please!" Nami continues to whisper as eyes still linger on her and the swordsman. Zoro finally turns to meet eyes with the navigator and her touch falters on his shirt as she looks at the deadly glint in his eyes. Zoro knows what is at stake, but isn't used to being forced to stay put when you are so uncomfortable. He knows what is at stake, but at what cost? At least on battlefields, he can step in if he deems it necessary. He grits his teeth defeatedly and sits back down, eyes now trained on the table to try to control himself.

It feels like eons when you finally make your way back to them.

"Okay, I know where they are we can go now!" Zoro's eyes snap upwards to meet your warm gaze, before travelling behind you to the man asleep on the bar table, most likely your doing. His hand itches for his sword to go and make sure that when the man wakes, he will have no wretched hands any longer, but he recedes. "Let's go," Zoro's voice is short and sharp and he avoids your gaze. Nami rolls her eyes once more at his attitude as you give her a questioning glance, but she shrugs in response as you go to lead them to the crew.

Only a few moments pass when Nami goes to find the keys to where the crew are confined and you go to Zoro who leans against the wall of the room you are yet to enter. "Zoro," you murmur as his gaze reluctantly meets yours. "Are you mad? Look, it was all just to get information, you know I wasn't flirting with that guy on purpose I-" Zoro cuts you off sharply, as he eyes the way your eyebrows furrow together and he realises his anger of the revolting man had seemed like anger towards you.

"I know. I trust you."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and even more so when a slight flush reaches the tips of his ears. Your surprise then morphs into a sigh and a smile lingers on your face as you realise he had just been worried for you, and most likely trying not to commit murder of the man you had to manipulate for information. "If you want some consolation, I did give him a good punch to the ribs before he was knocked out." You whisper as you reach for his hand that had been clenched into a fist. It instantly unravels at your touch as he allows you to hold it and you guide it to the side of your thigh where the man had touched you.

Zoro's eyebrows seem to furrow, but he seems to concede to your words as he traces your figure, trying to eliminate the man's touch from your skin. "That's my girl." You grin as you look up to him when Nami sprints back to you, a hoard of men on her heels. "[y/n]!! Zoro!! Deal with them!!" In her grasp is the key to your crew's confinement and Zoro smirks as he readies his swords, seemingly more at ease now that you are next to him again.

"Mind if I take care of them?"

"By all means."

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚/𝑺.𝑪𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒚

Steph woke up to the sharp buzz of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. It was barely light outside, the pale morning light peeking through the curtains. Groggily, she reached for her phone, squinting at the screen to make out the message. Beth had sent a link, accompanied by a message: “Have you seen this? You need to check on her.”

Steph clicked the link, the image loading painfully slowly thanks to her spotty Wi-Fi. The moment it appeared, her stomach dropped. There was no mistaking the scene—Cata, in some dark, neon-lit nightclub, kissing someone who wasn’t you. Her arms were wrapped around the woman, who looked thrilled to be there, and Cata didn’t look the least bit hesitant.

Steph shot up in bed, her heart pounding. Anger and disbelief coursed through her. How could Cata be so careless? So…cruel? It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the fact that it was so public. That photo was going to be everywhere, and Steph couldn’t imagine the humiliation you’d feel when you saw it. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it.

Throwing on the first pair of joggers she could find, Steph pulled a hoodie over her head and grabbed her keys. She had no plan other than to get to you as quickly as possible. Her bare feet slipped into trainers as she raced out the door, fumbling with the zip on her hoodie as she practically sprinted to her car.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove through the quiet streets of London, the early morning light casting long shadows over the empty roads. Steph’s mind raced. What if you’d already seen the photo? She knew you—knew how much you loved Cata and how much you trusted her. This would break you. And Steph hated the idea of you going through it alone.

When she pulled up to your flat, she didn’t even bother parking properly, leaving the car half on the curb. She jogged up the stairs, her trainers pounding against the concrete, her breath quick with urgency. When she reached your door, she knocked hard, not caring if she woke the neighbours.

“It’s me,” she called, her voice steady but urgent. “Open up.”

There was a long pause, and Steph felt her chest tighten. Were you ignoring her? Or worse, had something happened? She was about to knock again when she heard the faint click of the lock.

The door creaked open, and the sight of you stopped Steph in her tracks. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks streaked with dried tears. You were wearing one of your old pyjama sets, the fabric rumpled and the neckline stretched from you tugging it up to wipe away your tears. You looked…so sad, like you might fall apart at any moment.

“You’ve seen it,” Steph said softly. It wasn’t a question—it was written all over your face.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I woke up to it. Everyone’s sending it to me.”

Steph stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She reached for you, her hands resting gently on your shoulders, but you crumbled into her arms before she could say anything else.

Your sobs were muffled against her hoodie as you clung to her, your fingers bunching the fabric of her hoodie at her back. “Why did she do this?” you choked out. “I thought—I thought we were happy.”

Steph held you tightly, her chin resting on top of your head as she grazed her hand up and down your back. “I don’t know, love,” she murmured. “But this isn’t on you, okay? None of this is your fault.”

You shook your head against her, tears soaking into the soft fabric of her jumper. “I must have done something wrong. Why else would she—”

“No,” Steph interrupted firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. Her hands cupped your cheeks, her thumbs wiping away the tears as they fell. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for her choices. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sniffled, your eyes searching hers. For what? She didn’t quite know. “Then why, Steph? Why would she do this to me?”

Steph’s jaw tightened, the anger she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. “Because she’s an idiot,” she said bluntly. “And because she doesn’t deserve you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t understand. She told me she loved me, that I was her everything. And now this?”

Steph’s heart broke at the pain in your voice. She guided you to the sofa, sitting down beside you and pulling you close. “Some people don’t know how to value what they have,” she said softly as she cupped the back of your head. “But that doesn’t mean you’re any less deserving of love, okay? Don’t let her actions make you doubt yourself.”

You nodded, though your shoulders still shook with quiet sobs. Steph stayed silent, her hand rubbing slow circles on your back as she let you cry.

After a while, you pulled back, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your pyjama top. “I don’t even know what to do,” you admitted, your voice hoarse. “Do I call her? Do I ignore her? I just—” You trailed off, shaking your head.

Steph hesitated, not wanting to push you one way or the other. “What do you want to do?” she asked gently.

You looked down at your hands, your fingers fidgeting nervously. “I don’t think I can come back from this,” you said quietly. “Even if she apologised, even if she begged… I’d never be able to trust her again.”

Steph nodded, her hand coming to rest on your knee. “Then maybe that’s your answer,” she said softly. “You don’t owe her forgiveness. You don’t owe her anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “I just feel so stupid. I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Hey,” Steph said firmly, tilting your chin up so you were looking at her. “Don’t say that. You trusted her because you loved her. That’s not stupid—that’s human.”

Your lip quivered, fresh tears threatening to spill over. “Why are you so good to me?”

Steph’s expression softened, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you’re my best friend,” she said simply. “And I care about you.”

You managed a weak smile, the corners of your mouth trembling. “Thank you.”

Steph nodded, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you back to her chest. You curled up against her side, sniffling softly as she guided your legs over her lap. She ran her hand up and down your shins as her cheek came to rest on top of your head, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, one behind her, and the other in front so your hands were clutching the material of her jumper just above her hip.

Your eyes flicker closed as she tenderly kissed the top of your head.

Steph stayed with you all day, refusing to leave your side. She made you tea, even though you barely touched it. She threw on your favourite shows, the ones that usually made you laugh, though today they barely managed to coax a smile from you. She didn’t push you to talk, instead letting you come to her when you were ready.

By the time the sun had set, you were curled up on the sofa with a blanket draped over your shoulders, your head resting on Steph’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you said quietly, though there was a note of hopefulness in your voice.

Steph smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “I’m not going anywhere,” she replied. “Not tonight, not tomorrow, not until you tell me to leave.”

Her words brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time they weren’t tears of sadness. You leaned into her, your head resting against her chest as her arms wrapped around you.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Steph pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice soft and steady. “You’re not lucky. You’re loved. There’s a difference.”

As you drifted off to sleep in her arms, Steph stayed awake, her thoughts racing. She hated seeing you like this, so broken and vulnerable. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her at the thought of being the one you turned to.

She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rise and fall of your chest as you slept. You needed her right now, and she’d be damned if she let you down.

*

Steph had practically moved in with you over the next few weeks. It wasn’t official -she still had her own flat- but the number of her hoodies draped over your sofa and trainers left by your front door told a different story. She was always there, ready with a cup of tea when you needed it or a ridiculous story to make you laugh when the sadness crept in. If she noticed the way you clung to her touch just a little too long or the way her presence seemed to calm you more than anyone else’s could, she didn’t say anything. She was just there, solid and steady, and you needed that more than anything.

It had been nearly a month since the photo of Cata had surfaced. You hadn’t spoken to her since the breakup; Steph had taken the liberty of blocking her number on your phone when she saw her name pop up more than once in the first week. You didn’t argue. You were tired of the constant ache in your chest every time her name came up.

Steph had been your rock through it all, and as the days passed, you began to notice things about her that you hadn’t before. Like the way her laugh seemed to light up the room, or how her eyes softened every time she looked at you. She was always thoughtful, always putting you first in ways that made your chest tighten. And, somehow, she made you feel safe-safer than you’d ever felt with anyone else.

One Saturday morning, you were both lounging on the sofa, a random film playing in the background. Steph had made breakfast, her pancakes slightly over cooked but still delicious. You were tucked against her side, her arm draped casually over your shoulders. It was nothing out of the ordinary; Steph had been touchy since the moment you’d met. But this time, you couldn’t ignore the way your skin tingled where her fingers brushed against your arm.

“You’re quiet today,” Steph said, her voice cutting through your thoughts. She tilted her head down to look at you, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Just thinking,” you said softly, not meeting her eyes. Your stomach twisted with something unfamiliar. “About how lucky I am to have you.”

Steph gave you a small smile, her cheeks tinged with pink. “You’ve said that a lot lately.”

“Well, it’s true,” you murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Steph didn’t respond right away. Her fingers moved absentmindedly, tracing patterns on your shoulder. “You’d be fine,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet. “You’re stronger than you think.”

You shifted to look at her, your head tilting slightly. “I don’t feel strong. I feel…lost.”

Steph’s hand stilled, her gaze meeting yours. “You’re not lost,” she said firmly. “You’re just finding your way again. And I’ll be here for as long as it takes.”

Her words made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on her face. She was so kind, so steady, and so… beautiful. You felt a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name, something that made your stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.

“Steph,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Steph’s brows knitted together, her hand moving to cup your cheek. “Hey, don’t get all teary on me again,” she said with a small, teasing smile. “You’re going to make me cry too, and I’m not a pretty crier.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the tension. “Liar. You’re pretty no matter what.”

Steph froze, her eyes widening slightly. You realised what you’d said a second too late, and your cheeks flushed with heat.

“I mean-” you started, but Steph cut you off with a soft laugh.

“Thanks, love,” she said, her tone light, though there was something in her eyes that made your stomach flip.

You both fell silent, the air between you shifting. You were hyper-aware of how close you were, of the warmth of her hand against your cheek and the way her eyes seemed to search yours for something. Your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing with things you weren’t ready to admit yet.

“I should…uh, clean up,” Steph said suddenly, pulling back and standing up. She avoided your gaze as she gathered the empty plates and headed to the kitchen, leaving you staring after her, your heart still racing.

Over the next few days, the tension between you only grew. Steph seemed more cautious around you, her usual easygoing demeanour replaced with something more guarded. You caught her looking at you when she thought you weren’t paying attention, her eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite place. And you…well, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she made you laugh, the way she held you when you cried, the way she looked at you like you were the most important person in the world.

It all came to a head one evening when you were both sitting on the balcony, the sun setting over the city. You’d brought out a bottle of wine, the two of you sharing it as you talked about everything and nothing. The conversation had drifted to your childhoods, and you were laughing at one of Steph’s stories about her disastrous attempt at baking a birthday cake for her mum.

“You really thought salt and sugar were the same thing?” you teased, your laughter making your cheeks ache.

“I was seven!” Steph protested, though she was laughing too. “How was I supposed to know?”

You shook your head, your laughter dying down as you looked at her. The warm light of the sunset bathed her face, highlighting flush on her cheeks and the soft curve of her smile. She was beautiful, and the realisation hit you like a truck.

“Steph,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

She looked at you, her smile fading as her brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “I…I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said, echoing the words you’d said so many times before. But this time, there was a weight to them, a meaning that hadn’t been there before.

Steph’s eyes searched yours, her expression unreadable. “You’d be fine,” she said, her voice steady. “But I don’t think I would.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Your stomach flipped, your chest tightening as the meaning of her words sank in.

“Steph…” you started, but she shook her head, cutting you off.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushing. “Forget I said anything.”

“No,” you said firmly, reaching out to grab her hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t brush it off.”

Steph looked at you. “I just…I care about you,” she said softly. “A lot. And I know it’s not the right time, and I don’t want to mess things up, but-”

“You’re not messing anything up,” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “Steph, I… I think I care about you too.”

Her eyes searched yours, hope flickering in her expression. “You do?”

You nodded, your heart pounding. “Yeah. I do.”

Steph stared at you for a long moment, her eyes wide and searching, as if she couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Her hand was still in yours, her fingers trembling slightly against your palm. Neither of you moved, the tension crackling in the air between you, until she finally spoke, her voice soft and hesitant.

“You mean that?” she asked, her words barely above a whisper.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I do, Steph. I mean it.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something else, but the words never came. Instead, she shifted closer to you, her free hand moving tentatively to your cheek. Her touch was warm and careful, as though she was afraid you might pull away. You didn’t. You leaned into her touch, your eyes locking with hers, and the unspoken feelings that had been building for weeks, maybe months, hung heavy in the air.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” Steph murmured, her voice trembling.

You shook your head, your breath catching as your hand moved to rest on her thigh. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered.

That was all she needed. Her eyes flickered to your lips for the briefest moment before she closed the distance between you, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was impossibly soft and tentative. It was as if she was testing the waters, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You leaned into her, your hand sliding up to her neck as you kissed her back, your heart pounding in your chest.

Her lips were warm and slightly chapped, and she tasted faintly of the wine you’d been drinking. The kiss was gentle, almost shy, but there was something electric about it, something that made your entire body hum with warmth. Steph’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepened the kiss ever so slightly, her confidence growing with every passing second.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling as you tried to steady yourselves. Steph’s eyes fluttered open, and the vulnerability in her gaze made your chest ache in the best way.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same.”

You smiled, your thumb brushing against her jawline as you tilted your head to look at her. “I think I’ve wanted it too. I just didn’t realise it until now.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, her cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t want this to ruin what we have,” she said, her tone laced with both hope and fear. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you promised. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Steph exhaled a shaky breath, her thumb grazing your cheek as she smiled at you. “You’re so important to me, you know that?”

“You’re important to me too,” you said softly, leaning in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss was less hesitant, more sure, as if all the walls you’d both been holding up had finally come down. It was sweet and slow, a moment that felt like it had been years in the making.

When you pulled away again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, the weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks finally lifting. “So…this is a thing now, isn’t it?”

Steph chuckled, her arms slipping around your waist as she pulled you closer. “Yeah, I think it is. You okay with that?”

“More than okay,” you said with a grin, leaning into her touch. “I think we’re going to be really good at this.”

“Yeah?” Steph asked, her tone teasing as she raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to get tired of me being around all the time?”

“Never,” you said without hesitation, your voice soft but sure. “You’re my safe place, Steph. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Her smile widened, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment before she pulled back. “Well, for the record, you’re my safe place too. Always have been.”

The two of you sat there for a while, wrapped up in each other, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

**

Anon, I hope I did this justice. Also, I adore Cata, so no hate toward her. I just needed a bad guy 😬

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[paige05bby]

The Story Of Us ~ 2

part 1

Summary: In which a very curious basketball player meets a very stressed BioChem major...

Warnings: none..

My roommate is already sprawled out on her bed when I walk into our dorm, laptop propped on her legs, a half-eaten bag of popcorn beside her. She barely glances up as I drop my bag onto my desk and sigh heavily.

“Rough study session?” she asks, typing something on her keyboard.

I rub my temples. “More like a hijacked study session.”

That gets her attention. She peeks over the screen, raising an eyebrow. “Hijacked?”

I turn, leaning against my desk. “You’re not gonna believe this, but this girl—this ridiculously persistent girl—just completely took over my study table at the library.”

She blinks. “Okay… and?”

“And she wouldn’t shut up. Kept asking me questions, trying to make conversation, like I wasn’t very clearly trying to study.” I throw my hands up. “And then today? I go back, and she’s already sitting there like she owns the place.”

My roommate frowns slightly, setting her laptop aside. “Weird. Who was it?”

I exhale, crossing my arms. “Some girl named Paige.”

Silence.

Then—

My roommate sits up so fast the popcorn bag nearly spills onto the floor.

“Wait. Wait.” She stares at me like I just casually announced I’d been studying with the President. “Paige? As in Paige Bueckers?”

I blink. “Uh. Yeah?”

She gapes at me. “Are you stupid?”

I recoil slightly. “Excuse me?”

She scrambles off the bed, grabbing her phone and furiously typing. A second later, she spins the screen toward me, showing me a Google search of—sure enough—Paige Bueckers.

“Please tell me you’re messing with me right now,” she says, like she’s genuinely concerned for my well-being. “You do know who she is, right?”

I glance at the screen, then back at her. “I mean, I knew shes on the basketball team—”

“THE basketball team,” my roommate stresses. “She’s literally UConn’s star player. She won a freaking ESPY. She’s—she’s, like, a big deal.”

I shift uncomfortably. “Okay? And?”

“And?” She looks at me like I’ve just committed a felony. “And you just sat there and acted like she was some random girl annoying you in the library?”

“Because she was some random girl annoying me in the library!” I say defensively, “why the fuck would someone like her be talking to someone like me?”

My roommate groans, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you.”

“Because your hot stupid.. ya know— under all the studious glasses and shit..” My roommate lifts her head, squinting at me. “, but, like… was she flirting with you?”

I open my mouth to respond—then immediately close it.

Because now that I think about it…

The smirks. The teasing. The way she insisted on getting a fun fact about me. The way she kept coming back.

Oh God.

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

My roommate gasps, sitting up again. “Shut up. Paige Bueckers was flirting with you, and you brushed her off?”

“In my defense, I thought she was just annoying,” I grumble, dropping onto my bed.

My roommate shakes her head, grinning like she’s about to have way too much fun with this. “Oh, Y/N. You have no idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into.”

—

I avoid the library for a few days. Not because I’m scared of running into Paige. I just—need a change of scenery. Yeah. That’s all.

But on Monday, I cave. I miss my usual table, my usual routine, my usual silence. Surely, by now, Paige has gotten bored and moved on.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

When I walk in, the library is quiet as ever. I weave through the tables, my eyes scanning ahead—just in case as my H/C cascades down my shoulder bouncing softly as i walked..

Then I see it.

Paige.

At my table.

Again.

She’s slouched in her chair, her glasses resting peacefully on the bridge of her knows as she lazily spins a pen between her fingers, looking entirely too comfortable. And the second she spots me? That smirk appears.

“Look who finally showed up,” she drawls, stretching her arms behind her head. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me Mrs. Biochem”

I stop dead in my tracks, grip tightening on the strap of my bag.

I could walk away. I could turn around and find another table, pretend like I didn’t see her.

But I don’t. Because something tells me she’d like that.

With a deep breath, I march over and drop my bag onto the chair across from her. “You’re in my spot.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “I don’t see your name on it.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”

“I’m just making myself comfortable,” she says with a playful grin, eyes flicking to the space beside me as if daring me to challenge her.

“Seems like it.” I huff, sliding into my chair. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, that mischievous glint never leaving her eyes. “Oh, come on. I’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to get some actual work done,” I mutter, already regretting sitting down.

She smirks again, her gaze lingering on me with an intensity I can’t quite place. “You’re telling me you don’t like a little bit of company while you work?”

I roll my eyes. “What part of ‘trying to get work done’ did you miss?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by my attempt at brushing her off. “You know, i’ve been coming here everyday to see if you’d be here— i almost gave up on you BioChem”

I blink, caught off guard by her bluntness. “We’ve met one time Paige”

Paige leans back, stretching her legs out under the table, making herself even more comfortable. “Yeah. and you act like I’m some kind of distraction — like i’m gonna fuck up your GPA with one glance”

I’m about to respond, but she cuts me off.

“Come on,” she continues, her tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. “You really think I’d sit here if I wasn’t at least a little bit interested in getting to know you?”

I frown, trying to hide the heat creeping up my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paige smirks, clearly seeing right through me. “Sure you don’t.”

For a second, we just stare at each other, her eyes searching mine with that knowing look, like she can read every single thought I’m trying so desperately to keep hidden.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, her voice playful, “did you Google me yet?”

I freeze. “What?”

She leans in, almost too casually, and lowers her voice, like she’s letting me in on some big secret. “your gonna keep this act up like you don’t know who i am or are you tired of that game?.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m not some obsessed fan, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Paige chuckles, the sound smooth and easy. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. But now I’m really curious… what’s your deal?” She taps the edge of her pen against the table. “You’ve got that whole ‘I don’t care about anything but my studies’ vibe going on. But, you’re still sitting here with me. So… something’s got to be up.”

I bite my lip, not sure whether to laugh or groan. She’s relentless, and yet, I can’t bring myself to completely push her away. Something about her is… different.

“You’re a lot of work,” I mutter, trying to keep the conversation from going any deeper.

Paige smiles, that slow, teasing grin that makes my stomach do a weird little flip. “You think I’m work? Babe, you have no idea.”

I shift in my seat, the words unexpectedly hitting me harder than they should. “Don’t call me that.”

Paige raises an eyebrow but doesn’t back off. “Oh? You don’t like that? I’m just trying to keep things fun.”

“I think I liked Mrs. Biochem better..” I stare at her for a moment, feeling that spark of irritation—and something else, something I’m not quite ready to admit—flicker between us.

“Look,” I say, “I’m just here to study. Not to—”

“Not to what?” Paige interrupts, leaning even closer, her voice low. “Not to enjoy some company? Not to get distracted by me? Maybe that’s exactly what you need”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come. Paige’s gaze is too intense, too confident.

Maybe I am a little distracted. But only because she’s determined to make this entire thing feel like some weird, slow-motion game I didn’t sign up for.

I shift again, giving in just a little. “Fine. Just… keep it down.”

Paige grins like she just won a small victory, her eyes twinkling. “You got it. But just so you know… I’m not going anywhere.”

She sits across from me at the library table, casually leaning back in her chair, tapping her pen against the table, making sarcastic little remarks. I keep my eyes on my work, pretending like she isn’t there.

It’s not like she’s doing anything terribly annoying. She’s just… there.

But why is she sitting with me?

I glance up to see her watching me, a smirk on her face. “You know, you could at least say something,” she says, her tone light but pointed. “I’m not gonna bite.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m just here to study.”

“Yeah, we know,” she says, tapping her pen again. “That’s what everyone says”

I narrow my eyes. “Listen I’m just trying to stay… focused.”

Paige leans forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Uh-huh. Focused. You know, you don’t have to pretend you’re not interested. I get it.”

I look up at her, startled. “I’m not pretending anything.”

She grins. “You sure about that?”

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to snap back at her. “What do you want?”

Paige shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were actually gonna talk to me — considering I saved this table for you”

“You saved this table for me? gosh should i get on my knees and kiss your feet?” I don’t know why, but her teasing tone gets to me. “What makes you think I would want to talk to you?”

She leans back in her chair, casually spinning her pen between her fingers. “Because it’s inevitable.”

“I’m not sure what’s inevitable about this,” I mutter, looking down at my textbook again.

Paige doesn’t let up. “You know, I’m having a party this weekend. You should come.”

I try to keep my face neutral, but my mind is already racing. “A party?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “What makes you think I’d want to go to that?”

She leans forward, crossing her arms over the table, clearly enjoying this. “Because I think you could use a little break. Trust me, you’re way too serious for your own good.”

I shift in my chair, arms crossed tightly over my chest. “I’m serious because I have work to do. Unlike some people.”

She lets out a playful laugh, clearly unfazed by my attempt at brushing her off. “Oh, come on. Just one night. You could use the change of pace. I’m sure you’re not always studying.”

I pause, catching her meaning. I’m not always studying. But still, I’m not interested in a party full of athletes and strangers. “I don’t know,” I say, trying to sound disinterested. “Seems like it’s not really my scene.”

Paige tilts her head, that mischievous grin still plastered on her face. “I think you’d be surprised. It could be fun. And, you know, I’m a pretty good host.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you are.”

She leans in closer, her gaze never leaving mine. “Come on. You’re telling me you don’t want to see what goes on behind the scenes?”

I glance at the textbook in front of me, trying to ignore how close she’s gotten. “I’ll think about it,” I say flatly, “but only if you stop distracting me.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Oh? So now you’re bargaining; because i could make this a lot more interesting”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms even tighter. “I need to finish this section before I go anywhere.”

“You know,” she says casually, tapping her pen on the table, “if you want to think about it more, you could always text me. I’ll track you down if I have to.”

I glance up, surprised. “What?”

She smirks, completely unapologetic. “I’m serious. I’m not going to let you skip out on this party.” She slides her phone over to me. “So, what’s your number?”

I stare at her phone for a second, then at her, trying to hide the confusion in my voice. “You want my number?”

Paige raises an eyebrow, that same playful glint in her eyes. “Yeah, that way I can remind you about the party, you know, in case you forget.”

I blink, speechless. For some reason, I feel like she’s playing some kind of game, and I’m not sure if I want to be part of it. “Does this whole act you put on work with every girl you talk to?”

Paige leans back, her lips curling into a confident grin. “Depends. Is it working on you?”

I’m momentarily speechless, her words landing somewhere deeper than I care to admit. I can feel my heart rate picking up just slightly, and I wonder if she can sense it too.

I swallow and try to sound unaffected, like I’m not secretly wondering if she’s right. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just curious to see how far you’ll push it.”

Paige’s grin widens, and she sits up straighter, clearly enjoying this. “Curious, huh? I think you’re more than curious. I think you’re intrigued.”

I roll my eyes and look down at the phone she’s still holding out, waiting for me to make the move. I can’t believe I’m even considering it any girl would rush at this opportunity..

why me?

“Fine,” I mutter, grabbing the phone from her hand. “You’ll get my number. But don’t expect me to just show up— or even text you back, my roommate says im a terrible texter.”

Paige’s smile is victorious. “I’ll be the judge of that”

As I type out my number, I can feel her watching me, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve just made a deal with the devil. Or maybe something even more dangerous.

When I’m done, I pass the phone back to her, trying to act like this is no big deal. But inside, I’m already anticipating the text that’ll probably come through any second.

She locks her phone and grins. “I’ll text you the details later. Be ready.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If your as annoying as you are in person don’t expect me to text back”

Paige winks. “oh i will be. Trust me.”— I shake my head sighing as i sink my head back into the pages of my book before getting interrupted again, “You look pretty with your hair down by the way BioChem..”

[bienmoreau]

I ummed and ahhed over responding again. I'm sorry for any misunderstandings and I'm glad we got that cleared up. But I also wanted to finish my thoughts on this so it doesn't nag on me all night.

I want to clarify here that this isn't aimed at you/in response or contradiction to your post. It's just the thoughts that your reply brought up for me about this topic far more generally than just from this exchange! That said;

The 'what was it all for' is such an important line for sure!! So much of his journey is learning that the way he was taught things had to be isn't actually the case at all. And the mental recalibration that's going to require is huge.

And yeh I completely agree about him not being a sheep or wolf and learning how to not be violent & rude.

I've seen all too often and up close how this fandom (tho not uniquely) has a tendency to take characters to one extreme or another in their characterisation. It has done since 2015, I should be used to it by now. But I personally balk at the idea of that happening with Jean in any direction; violence, softness, victimhood. Any of it. None of it does his complexity justice when addressed in isolation or taken to an extreme.

And unfortunately a lot of what I've been seeing in the fandom tags seems to focus on a few cherry picked moments that people have taken and run with at the neglect of other parts that I think shed very important context or contradiction on the parts people have focused on. Even for example (and simply because it is one of the examples we discussed here) the fact that the major contributing factor in Jean swinging at Jeremy in the car wasn't anything to do with Jeremy, it was because Jean was lost in a traumatic memory about him and Kevin in the nest.

What's focused on is Jeremy touching him (and for context, not in an aggressive or invasive or even particularly surprising way it just coincided with Jean being somewhere else in his head) and the context of that moment seems to often be overlooked. Jeremy gets the blame (I'm not saying Jean should either. I don't think there IS blame here!) but I've seen a similar thing happen with other moments being discussed. People pull a single line or two out of a 3 page scene and build a moral stance off that line. It's reductive. Not only of the legitimate critical analysis of these characters and their actions/motivations but also of the thought and care and detail Nora puts into her writing! That's what my original post was about (tho I admit I worded it badly and I regret that.) the detail of that moment is what tells us what jean was actually reacting to and setting up the foreshadowing for what happens with Grayson later. The context here matters and for me at least changes how I read that interaction.

As for them 'holding on tighter' again I imagine the context of these moments is also important. I don't know which bits you're referring to specifically

But from a brief flick through the latter half of the book I found two that I think fit this description and both times it was when they were stopping him from hurting himself and holding on to make sure he was safe to be let go. Or asking him to acknowledge them so they can confirm he is safe to be left/if they can do something to help him. And the time when they see his notebooks but he isn't described resisting Jeremy's hold there, and wrenching out of that hold is descriptive of his physicality in movement not of Jeremy's restraint of him.

The one I found that I assume best fits this description is in that same scene. 'Laila moved faster than a snake to catch Jean’s wrist. How she held on when Jean flinched at her touch, Jeremy didn't know' but again the context is what's important. By this point they have all seen how Jean self harms when he slips and says something he didn't mean to. The next line after Laila's speech is literally 'In another moment he’d draw blood where his fingernails were burrowed into his cheek'.

Maybe I'm forgetting an obvious outlier of a moment where their behaviour is not explicable when in context (my reread has been sporadic and I've been distracted proof reading more recently) And absolutely I agree everyone will have their own reactions to reading behaviour like this. But personally don't fault them for not letting him self harm in front of them if that can do anything to stop it. And beyond any individual context of a scene I think it's really important for the whole fandom to remember that these characters are their own complex imperfect teens and early 20 somethings every time we see their behaviour from Jeans POV he and therefore we are missing the entire world of decisions and emotions and instincts that each of them are also working with in the face of dealing with someone who is deeply traumatised and in ways which they explicitly do not understand or know the truth of.

Back on my annotated reread of TSC and thinking abt how Jean's reaction to Laila when he hits her isn't just about being touched unexpectedly.

It's because it's his neck.

It is specifically because it's 'something warm and wet against his injured neck'.

It's because it's literally happening in the middle of a conversation in which Cat just suggested Jean meet in person with Grayson.

Like as much as people can be upset he hit her or didn't immediately apologise (also tho like. Did we read the same book? It literally has it right there that apologising is not how this kinda thing is handled in the nest. Why would Jean think to do that here??) can you really be surprised that those circumstances triggered his fight response? Like really?

[zaldritzosrose]

Favourite Sin (Adar x High Princess!Reader)

Summary: You were a prize and then some. The High King's sister, one of few whose disappearance should cause him the most anguish. Taking you hadn't been easy, but making you his willing wife was set to be even more of a challenge, it seemed. But maybe you were a little more willing than he anticipated?

This is a present for my dearest @tumblin-theworldaway, hope you enjoy! (And we will get the hang of this timezone bullshit 😂)

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, elven reader, hinted at having similar colouring to (show version) Gil Galad, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of (mostly) forced marriage, hints at dub con (reader not fully embracing her willingness with Adar), female masturbation, mentions of voyeurism (Adar overhears reader), oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, Adar being a tease, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 5750 (I know, but the muse hath taken me)

Holding Gil Galad’s sister captive, the High Princess of the Ñoldor, was a prize and more for Adar and his children. Though bringing you to Mordor had not been an easy task, it was necessary to make the weight of Adar’s power known. To bring attention to the fact that the Uruk were not a threat to be taken lightly and ignored.

Taking you had required planning, the kind of subterfuge that the Uruk were not particularly adept at.

But it had been managed. And now the princess was within the boundaries of Mordor, secured inside the Uruk camp. Though your title was rendered more than useless now.

You were sure word had made it to your brother. Or at least, you hoped it had. Taking you would mean war; you were sure of that.

And yet nothing had come.

The camp stretched for what felt like half of the Southlands. Or should you call it Mordor now? The shadowed lands seemed endless when you were stuck in the middle of them.

You felt alone, despite being surrounded by crowds of Uruk.

Some looked at you in fascination, like you were a new shiny treasure. Some looked at you as if you were a deer, lost in the darkness of a forest. The rest refused to so much as look at you.

Adar, however, never kept you out of his sight. Not that you could escape, but you imagined it wasn’t to prevent such a thing. His children obeyed him, but you could feel an almost protective edge to how he would keep you near.

There was an unspoken edge to how he handled you, as though there was something you were yet to learn.

But that knowledge came soon enough.

“Marry you!?” you almost screeched the words at Adar, forgetting that he was likely the only person keeping you safe and well.

His quarters were quiet. The table set for a dinner neither of you had eaten. But your voice almost echoed against the wooden walls.

He expected to make you his wife? The idea baffled you entirely, but it was like you could no longer form the right words to express yourself.

Adar remained quiet. He had expected a less than positive reaction from you. But he had his reasons for making such a proposition, and for telling you about it first.

“Yes, marriage,” Adar said simply, his fork stabbed into the meat on his plate and abandoned.

“For a good reason, princess, you will be safer within these borders as my wife.”

There were more reasons, of course, but he was of no mind to reveal them to you. Yet.

You leaned back in your chair, a small scoff leaving your lips.

“Safe? You wish me to believe you are concerned for my safety?” you spat the words with a little more aggression than you realised you were capable of.

And it only made Adar smile.

“I told you my plans out of kindness. I was not asking your permission.”

That had been a month ago now. A month that you had been Adar’s wife and the new Lady of Mordor. And he hadn’t been wrong regarding your safety. It had taken time and some less than gentle encouragement from your new husband, but the Uruk had come to regard you with less resentment than before.

Some even looked at you with something that might resemble kindness.

Even Adar seemed to have changed. Not in how he acted when you were around his children, but when you were alone.

Your wedding night had been as expected. Adar made as much effort as he could to make you comfortable, and you had put in as much effort to enjoy it as he had expected.

The wedding had been nothing extravagant; you were not sure if it was even legally binding. Not that it mattered. You were a captive, no matter whether you were called wife or prisoner, nothing would change.

But now, as you sat stock still on Adar’s bed, you felt afraid for the first time. Not of Adar, he had given you no reason to fear him. But of what this night would mean.

Of what it would mean to give away the last thing that was solely yours.

You held the fabric of your gown between your hands, worrying the fabric again and again with your fingers.

And it was this that Adar noticed.

“There is nothing to fear,” he said softly, the low gravel of his voice feeling so loud in the silence of his quarters.

Your fingers slowed their movements, but didn’t stop. Why should you believe him? He was your captor, since you were not yet ready to think the word husband.

Yet, he hadn’t done you any harm up until now. Even if he’d had the opportunity to. Maybe, he was being sincere?

You didn’t say a word as you stood, not trusting the strength of your voice. You focused instead on the way Adar stood still in front of you. How he looked so different without the layers of armour and leather. How the few candles around the room lit him from behind as he watched you back, waiting for you to approach.

The small amount of jewellery you had been wearing when you were taken to Mordor had been shed, along with the outer layer of your gown, just after you entered Adar’s quarters. The thin shift doing little to protect you from both Adar’s gaze and the cool air.

Avoiding it would only last for so long. Trying to delay the inevitable was impossible, you thought.

And the longer you looked at him, the more you had to ignore the faintest spark of desire in your belly. He was a handsome man, once you truly appreciated him.

But if you had looked a little harder, you would have seen the same lust filled look in Adar’s own eyes. Darkening even further the closer you came. His breath caught in his throat when your hands came to rest on his chest.

“I will do my duty as your wife; it is our wedding night.”

That night continued to play in your mind. Even weeks after the fact.

You were a wife now and Adar had not been wrong, the energy had begun to shift towards you. Whether Adar had told his children to treat you with more respect, you didn’t know, but there was certainly a difference.

Those who refused to look at you, now spared you the occasional glance. Those who had looked at you with prey, would sometimes even greet you as you passed them.

But something else had settled into the back of your mind. You had felt it on your wedding night, and all the subsequent nights you had spent in Adar’s bed.

The lingering feelings of desire whenever Adar would touch you. The sounds of pleasure you would bite back because you were afraid of the feelings you had.

He was your captor turned husband. You should despise him.

It was the lack of that which you feared. Did you love him? No. But there was a fire that burned in your belly whenever he touched you, even for the most fleeting of moments.

Whether Adar knew or not, you didn’t dare find out.

War was looming with the rumours of Sauron’s return, and you had soon come to realise that your brother’s focus was going to be elsewhere. And as much as that pained you, you knew Gil Galad knew that you were capable enough to handle yourself wherever you were.

But the lingering threat of darkness had meant Adar was away from Mordor a little more than he had been. He would leave some of his children behind, a silent gift of protection for you.

Though you preferred the comfort of your own quarters. Adar had offered them to you about a week into being his wife. Before that you had been in a small tent, just in sight of his own quarters.

While most of the Uruk banded together and slept in a mixture of tents and wooden shacks, Adar had a large wooden building in the centre of camp. His throne outside it and even a separate room where you would assume he would host guests if he ever had them.

Yours were smaller, but with enough space for it to be clear you were no longer a prisoner. There was a separate bedroom, a small snug with some furs and fire pit for your comfort. And those small things were welcome whenever he would leave.

This time Adar had been gone for a few weeks. The longest he had been gone since your marriage to him and though you chastised yourself for it, you had begun to miss him.

Not necessarily his person, but what him being here meant. Physically.

If Adar was anything to you, he was attentive. Dare you even say, gentle. Like he was afraid if he did anything more, you would run from him in disgust or fear.

But you never did.

And now, you found yourself missing those nights.

You had put that feeling to the back of your mind. Trying to focus yourself on literally anything else. But then you would lay in your bed and your mind would drift there.

And soon your hand would follow. Letting the images that would float in your imagination guide you. It began to happen every night without fail. It was almost like you couldn’t sleep without putting out the fire in your veins.

Picturing how Adar would touch you, the way his hands would feel against your skin. How warm he always seemed to be; how soft his lips were…

No word had come of where Adar was or when he would be returning, but the Uruk that remained in camp had been on edge all day. Just like they had been for the last week.

You were on an edge, though without a doubt it was an entirely different one.

The night soon drew in, a few of the Uruk coming to check on you after you had eaten with them which you more than appreciated.

But then you were alone again, and it wasn’t long before your thoughts began to wander.

You waited until you could no longer hear much noise outside of your door, meaning most of the Uruk had gone to their own beds or were far enough away that you could let your hands wander too.

Images of Adar immediately filled your mind, the rough sound of his voice felt almost real you had imagined it so many times now.

Your shift was bunched in your hand, the other making its path down your body to seek out your core.

The room was always warm, the fire pit constantly stoked at your request. But your skin prickled as your fingers began to dip between your folds. A small sigh leaving your lips as you finally made the contact you had been desperate for all day.

Your movements remained slow. In the weeks he had been gone, you had begun to try and imitate Adar’s touch. He was never in a rush, like he was mapping out every dip and swell of your body and committing to his memory.

But trying to mimic that had taken weeks. Only now did it feel almost right. Your hands were too soft, but it was close enough.

You would try and remember the way he would start, where he would touch first. One hand between your thighs and one hand always mapping the rest of your body.

So that’s what you did. Your fingers made slow circles on your pearl, working the fire in your belly higher and higher. Your other hand pushing your shift higher, not enough to make you bare, not yet.

The sighs turned to soft moans, barely audible, letting the images of Adar flow through your mind.

The muscles of his chest and back when he would hover over you, one hand by your face while the other would continue its path along your body.

How his breath would feel on your neck as he began to press kisses to your skin. The barely there sounds that would leave his throat the more of you he got to feel.

You worked yourself up to a point that you were almost desperate to find release, your hips actively chasing your own hand. The shift almost torn from your body as the room seemed to get warmer and warmer.

Everything around you faded as you began to focus on the desire that thrummed in your veins, surrendering yourself to it. Your fingers finally slipping between your folds and trying to remember the rhythms Adar would strum.

It was so dark when Adar returned. Most of the Uruk were already fast asleep, or at least away in their tents. He assumed you would be too, and his feet began making their way to your quarters before he could stop them.

His hand was on the door when soft sounds floated through the small cracks in the wood. Sounds that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but pleasure.

Far louder than he was sure he had ever heard you be. Far louder than you had ever been with him.

He waited, as quiet as he could. Just to hear a little more. The cracks in the door wide enough to sneak the smallest of peeks at you. He could see you bare, spread out on the furs of your bed. One had between your thighs, the other gripping the plump flesh of your breast in the same rhythm as your fingers.

Adar was sure he could smell your arousal from here.

He was completely entranced, lost in the way your body writhed on the bed. How your voice seemed to be going up octave after octave as your peak crept up on you. And then, something he never thought he would hear from you, especially like this.

His name.

“Adar…” you breathed out, and your husband could only watch as the muscles of your thighs twitched, hips canting up against your hand until you finally stilled.

You had said his name. His name. Bare, glistening with sweat as your peak had crashed over you, you had said his name.

Adar ignored the way his length twitched in his breeches at the thought. He could wait. But he wasn’t going to forget just how pretty you sounded.

He only wondered if he could make you louder.

You awoke that morning to hear the Uruk calling Adar’s name, nothing but happiness in their voices.

He was home.

You forgot yourself for just a moment in your excitement at having him back. It surprised you. You were at the threshold of your door when it hit you. Taking a deep breath before stepping outside.

Adar was at his throne, his children that had remained behind clamouring around him. But his eyes found you immediately. If you hadn’t been concentrating on maintaining your usual, passive mask, you would have noticed how he looked at you.

Like he wanted to devour you where you stood.

“Husband,” you said gently, the crowd of Uruk parting as you walked towards his throne.

Adar stood immediately, but he didn’t move towards. But a smile did twitch at his lips.

“Wife,” he answered, finally descending the few steps of his throne to meet you.

You saw a flash of something behind his eyes, but you chalked it up to your imagination. He had been gone for a while, maybe you simply missed him. But when he held his hand out to you, your skin meeting his for the first time in weeks, you could feel that same feeling stirring deep in your body.

Desire. Everything you had tried to tamper down, to hide, threatened to spill from you after one touch.

Adar could only smile as he saw the way you swallowed, how your eyes remained trained on his hand.

“Are you well?” he asked quietly, daring to stroke a soft circle on the back of your hand with his thumb.

He needed to see. Was your desire for him reserved for when you were alone, or could he push you enough to let it slip through the cracks?

The rest of the day passed no differently to how it usually did. Adar checking up on the children he had left behind while he was away and you spending your time doing anything you enjoyed. Walking around the camp was a new pastime, giving you a break from the walls of your quarters.

What you didn’t know, was that Adar watched you almost the entire time. Keeping his eyes on you whenever and however he could. He was the most distracted he had ever been since he married you, willing night to fall so he could end his duties and summon you to his bed.

He knew it would raise suspicions with you if he changed his routine and took you to his bed early. It was an unintentional routine, but something you had welcomed.

What he didn’t know, was you were wishing he would do just that. You could go to him yourself but, outside of your own bed, you were warring with your desire for him and your need to keep it hidden away.

Dinners had been eaten, and Mordor had darkened as whatever sun filtered in finally dipped below the horizon. You were in your quarters, savouring the bath that you had treated yourself to, when you could hear a soft rapping on the makeshift door.

You recognised the footsteps almost immediately.

On instinct, you moved to cover yourself. Leaning against the side of the tub – or what was essentially a patchworked together replica of such a thing, at the insistence of Adar for your comfort. It felt ridiculous to hide yourself from your husband, but it was as though there were two paths urging you in your mind.

Resist or surrender.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Adar said softly, stopping a few paces from you.

You couldn’t stop your smile. You were not sure when it had happened, but you had found yourself relaxing around him in the simplest of ways. Which made how you felt deep down all the harder to reconcile.

“No intrusion, you are my husband.”

Adar only grumbled out a sound of approval. He realised; however, he hadn’t truly thought much past entering your quarters.

“But the fact you are here is an unusual occurrence. Is everything well?”

Your evenings were usually spent in Adar’s chambers and subsequently his bed. To have him in yours surprised you. The look he gave you, only served to confuse you more.

“Nothing is amiss, I assure you,” Adar hadn’t moved from where he stood, but his eyes were travelling over your form.

You simply hummed, realising you were not going to get a straight answer from him.

The bath water had begun to cool, and you leaned over the side to grab the wide sheet of linen to dry yourself. As smoothly as you could, you held it high to wrap it around yourself as quickly as possible.

What you did not expect was for Adar’s hands to grasp its edge and hold it for you. Just high enough to cover your body, but his proximity had you freezing for just a moment.

“Thank you, Adar.”

You missed the darkening of his eyes as you said his name, stepping from the tub and letting him hand you the linen.

His hands momentarily touched your back as you turned to wrap it around you, and you tried to hide the shiver that ran through you. Images from the nights spent alone flashing in your mind at just one touch.

The silence in the room was almost deafening. It was almost as though both of you had something to say, but neither knew the other did.

You began to move away to dress, unsure what else to do, when Adar seemed to come back to himself and stop you.

His hands returned to your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. You couldn’t see his smirk as your body stiffened and then relaxed immediately at his touch. Your eyes fluttering closed as his hands tightened on your shoulders.

“I thought of you, whilst I was away,” he said simply, his hands trailing down your arms.

It wasn’t unusual for him to admit things like that, but there was something behind his words that felt different. Adar leaned in, whispering into your ear.

“Did you think of me?”

The growl behind his voice seemed more intense this close, the fire rising gently in your belly.

You wanted to answer, admit that you had thought of him on so many occasions. But it was like your words stuck in your throat.

A thought crossed your mind, did he know? No, he couldn’t possibly. But there was almost a knowing tone to his voice.

His hands stroked up and down your arms, patiently waiting for whatever answer you would give.

“Does your silence mean you did? I was gone a while, leaving you alone and unattended to…”

Adar smiled as he pressed a kiss to the skin behind your ear. His expression widening as he felt your head fall back just a little.

He could feel you fighting it, still trying to deny what you felt for him. So, he continued, bringing your back flush against his chest. Hands moving from your arms to the wrap of your linen.

Your skin was still warmed from the bath, and you could feel the hard plane of his chest through the dark fabric of his shirt. Adar never wore his armour, including his gauntlet, when you and he were alone.

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth as he began to unwrap your linen, slowly baring your body to the coolness of your quarters. The sheet falling to the ground as his hands took their time roaming your soft flesh.

“Shall I attend to you now, wife?”

Not trusting your words, you nodded, and Adar could feel the temperature of your skin rising. Your head fell fully back on to his shoulder, so close to surrendering to your feelings.

Adar’s hands were in no rush. It was as though he was recommitting every part of you to memory. Maybe, he truly had missed you while he was gone?

It was only when his fingers skimmed low enough to tease at your pearl did you let out a sigh of pleasure. The sound bringing Adar back to his true aim for coming to you tonight.

He let a single finger circle you, tantalisingly slow. Teasing you and himself.

His other hand cupped your breast, kneading the soft mound under his palm. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t quite enough to pull those sounds from the night before out of you. But there was more than enough time for that.

It wasn’t as though he was unaffected, his own arousal pushing insistently against your back.

He was so focused on the feel of you beneath his hands that he almost missed the small whisper that slipped from you. It was only when his hands slowed, did he realise you had asked for something. Your hand wrapped around his wrist. Almost begging for him to move faster.

“Please…”

You were just loud enough for him to hear this time, the breathy sound of your voice sending a shot of desire straight to his already hard length.

That was enough to have him lead you towards your bed. A gentle push had you laying down, and all you could do was watch as Adar made quick work of his tunic.

More of your daydreams flashed before your eyes, realising your imagination had never quite matched up to the real thing. Pale, scarred flesh covered just enough muscle to remind you of the strength he held.

You rested yourself on your elbows. There was just a little something different about Adar tonight. Not that he was never gentle, but he seemed to be working with a purpose in mind more so than usual.

The bed dipped as he joined you, stopping to push your legs open and kneel between them.

“Please what, hmm?” he asked, large hands squeezing your thighs.

There was no doubt he had a purpose. You had seen that look before, but when he was focused on battle strategies, not your pleasure.

You let out a small breath, preparing yourself to give in just a little more to your desire for him.

“I need you, husband.”

Adar let out a soft grunt of approval at those words. Watching as your hand reached out for him.

If there was one thing you hadn’t expected to imagine when you were alone, it was his kisses. They were few and far between, but you realised how much you enjoyed them when you were left with only your mind’s eye.

He let you wait, just a moment longer, before crawling the rest of the way up and hovering his lips over yours. Your hand finally able to curl around the back of his neck. Adar let you pull him down, your kiss a lot hungrier than he expected it to be.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers toying the black strands at the base of his neck.

One of Adar’s hands remained on your thigh, hooking it up and over his waist. Your hand tightened on his neck as you felt his arousal press against your bare core, your hips rolling up on instinct.

“Patience, darling…” he whispered, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

He wanted you to ease into what he knew you felt. There was little hiding your desire for him now. You just needed to let yourself admit it.

Adar returned to the kiss, pulling back some of his control as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your fingers entirely tangled in his hair as he won the battle of your kiss.

He didn’t stop your body arching against him. Soft skin against his scarred flesh only spurring him on.

His kiss moved from your lips to your neck, letting his hips begin to match your rhythm. You were still holding back, but he could hear how your breath sped up and the subtlest of moans were slipping from your lips.

The path of his lips continued down, between the valley of your breasts and lower. Mapping every inch of you with a kiss.

“What did you imagine while I was gone? How I touch you, how I kiss you…?” he murmured against your skin.

Your hand returned to his hair as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Holding them apart enough to settle his head between them.

He knew, he had to. If you had been less distracted, you would have tried to deny. But you were at the point of desperation. Weeks of only your own hand to bring you satisfaction. If you just gave in…

“All of it,” you sighed, trying in vain to push his head closer to where you wanted him.

But Adar didn’t move. He wasn’t going to let you off quite that easy.

His kisses moved higher, just shy of where you wanted him to be.

Your eyes closed, taking a small breath and answering.

“I...I imagined how your hands feel on me, how your lips feel on me…”

Adar rewarded you with a long, slow swipe of his tongue between your folds. Pulling a slightly louder moan from you.

He wondered if you would admit just a little bit more.

“And?” he asked again, his breath hot against your skin.

He could feel you tense a little in frustration, but he could feel how close you were to giving in.

“I imagined how satisfied you leave me.”

That was more than expected. Admitting your desire was enough, but to admit you found satisfaction with him? That was even better.

You were rewarded again with a more insistent lap to your cunt, his face burying a little further down. Your hand in his hair trying desperately to hold him where he was.

“Then I shall ensure I make up for all the satisfaction I have left you without these past weeks,” he promised, before delving in with full fervour.

There was little gentleness now. Adar almost devoured you with every swipe and circle of his tongue. It appeared you weren’t the only one who had suffered whilst you were apart.

Your nails scratched at his scalp, earning your growls of pleasure against your core. The vibrations combined with the way the tip of his tongue now circled your swollen bud had your eyes rolling back in your head.

Yet you still hadn’t let out any sounds close to what he had heard from you the night before.

Adar lifted your legs onto his shoulders, arms wrapped around your thighs as he doubled down on his ministrations. Suckling your pearl until you let out a soft sigh of his name.

Almost there, he thought. But maybe you needed just a little more encouragement.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, keeping the same rhythm as he peppered kisses over the skin of your inner thigh.

The way your walls were already clenching around him was a sure sign you were close. But he needed to hear you, good and loud.

“As delicious as ever…but I know you can be louder than that, sweet wife?”

His fingers curled inside you as he moved to hover over you, his lips returning to your neck.

He had heard you. You knew it. Before tonight, you would have been embarrassed, even denied it. But instead, the burning desire inside seemed to roar higher. He wanted you to be loud. There was no denying the hungry sound to his voice now.

“Adar…” you groaned out, his fingers almost beckoning your release closer.

Your husband smiled into your neck, the twitch in his cock reminding him just how good his name sounded on your tongue.

“Again. Say my name again.”

His fingers began to piston in and out of you, the wet sounds of your pleasure mixing in with your growing moans and sighs.

You didn’t hold back anymore. Letting your body relax and pleasure take over.

Over and over again you moaned his name, his lips latched onto your throat as your peak washed over you.

Adar let his hips grind themselves against your thigh as he felt the slick sensation of your release gush over his hand. Something in him told him you could give him just a little more.

Your hands got to his breeches first. Tugging at the laces in your desperate need to remove all the barriers between you. Gone was the fear of revealing your desire to him. You needed him to know how much you wanted him. How much you were sure you had for a long time.

He was quick to kick the rest of his clothing away, caring little for where they landed. All that mattered was having you beneath him.

His cock slid in with ease, the lingering spasms of your release made his eyes close for just a moment. Savouring the sensation. His face burying itself back into your neck, smiling again as your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Do you think you can be louder still? As loud as you were last night?”

Your heels at his back urged him to move. And he did, slowly pushing in and out while he waited for your answer.

But what he got was not what he expected.

“My fingers are nothing compared to you. I think you can make me much louder.”

Now that was a challenge he wished to meet.

Adar planted a hand beside your head. The other holding one of your thighs tight as he began to speed up his rhythm. Your back arched immediately from the bed. Your fingers were nothing compared to any part of him. Reaching far deeper than you ever could.

The bed creaked beneath you as Adar pounded into you, his own grunts and groans of pleasure almost lost in the sweet cries that came from you.

Desire burned through him just at the sound, but the way your cunt was already tightening around him had him at his edge faster than he may ever have been.

“Come for me, let me hear you chant my name…” he almost purred into your ear, his voice strained as he held back his own end as long as he could.

Your hands grasped at his shoulders, committing all the sensations to memory, should you ever be left alone again.

“Adar!”

His name came out as the most delicious cry, your nails digging into his shoulders as your second release crashed over you. Your eyes scrunched closed in pleasure as Adar buried his face into your shoulder. His own end painting your walls as he groaned out your name.

A few shallow thrusts came as he slowed himself down, letting your thighs down to the bed. Softer kisses planted over your neck and chest had a small smile on your lips.

Gently, Adar rolled to your side, both of you ignoring everything except the closeness of the other.

Your head rested on his chest, feeling the race of his heart that you were sure matched yours. The atmosphere in the room felt different than it usually did. Softer, more romantic in the strangest of ways.

Adar’s hand rubbed up and down your back, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You both remained silent for a while, until you rolled over to look at him.

Up close, you were reminded of more than just your desire. This was your husband, and you had truly never appreciated his beauty. Scars and all.

“I should never have hidden such desire from you, I realise that now,” you admitted, your chin leaning against his chest.

Adar looked at you and just smiled. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you up high enough for a kiss.

“It matters not, we have all the time to take full advantage of it.”

His words made your stomach flutter. If tonight was just the start, you could only imagine what future nights would bring.

Maybe marrying the father of orcs wouldn’t be so bad after all?

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[momolady]

The Orc & the Goblin: Part Two

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𝐹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒪𝓇𝒸 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃

𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓎𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓍 𝑀𝓊𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓁 𝓍 𝒞𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒

It’s okay, Estelle thought. You can handle this. Goddess knows you’ve handled many a rod before. Handling these two shouldn’t be a risky endeavor. Right?

Niet removed his tunic, revealing dark curls and a broad chest. Morg had thick, strong arms and a pronounced belly with a sparse trail of dark and gray hairs. Estelle remained resolute, jaw stiff, eyes focused. Then they both dropped trow at the same time.

Surprised was not the word that Estelle would use to describe what she saw. Sure, she was expecting something from the two. You didn’t get that much bravado from nothing. But what lay bare before her was more than bravado. Her bottom lip tucked under her teeth as she watched their cocks bob up and down before her.

Okay, so, you’ve handled many cocks. What now? These things are monsters in their own right! Can you handle these? Is your big talk going to work now? Estelle’s mind was a whirlpool sucking down her rational and strength. 

“Oh,” was all her mouth let out besides a bit of drool.

Niet’s long fingers wrapped around his shaft. His grin was unmistakable smug. “What do you think?”

Estelle was still staring, taking in Niet’s impressive size and Morg’s enticing upward curve. For a goblin, Niet was stacked. She expected something from Morg, she’d seen orc cocks most of her life. Niet’s small size was not a hindrance. In fact, his cock was all the more impressive because of it. Thick, veiny, and long to boot. Morg was more the curve with a plump underside. It looked tailor made to reaching certain spots inside a woman.

“I think we stunned her,” Morg chuckled.

Estelle cleared her throat. “Now wait a second. You act like I’ve never seen… cocks before.”

“Certainly none like this,” Niet boasted.

She cut her eyes to him. “Confidence is one thing, but yours is another.”

His tongue traced along the edge of his sharp teeth. “That’s only because I know what I’ve got, little blacksmith. You think I could tame an orc like him with just this mouth?”

Morg was suddenly blushing.

“Well then, just let me see what you have.” Estelle reached out with both hands, taking Niet in one and Morg in the other. Niet was surprisingly warm, Morg was pulsing. She moved both hands, stroking, watching the half hardness turn towards full, making them both harder, thicker.

“Fuck,” Niet jerked, his ears flattening back.

“Careful now,” Morg moaned. “Niet has a sensitive trigger.”

Niet hissed through his teeth. “Do not!”

She was like a kid in a candy store, only her candy was much more seductive. “You’re both well made, I’ll give you that. A bit big for the hands but uhm…we’re not dealing with weapons here.” Estelle licked her lips to catch her breath. “I can certainly work with these at the very least.”

Niet threw his head back and laughed. “Very least? I would at least say ‘beast’.”

Estelle's eyes flicked to him, giving him an extra squeeze around the base. He winced, coughing on his own chuckle.

“They’re yours to play with,” Morg moaned seductively. “If you need time to get used to them-”

That was like a challenge in Estelle’s ears. “You think I can’t take them?” She blurted out, a little heated. “I’ve fooled around with orcs, minotaurs, well hung humans all!” She jumped up, stripping off her shirt. “I’ll show you just what I am used to.” She was putting her foot down and her boobs out, even though her mind was boggling at how she was going to take these two at once. 

She wasn’t afraid, no, not Estelle. She could handle it with the best of them. In fact, this was the scenario she had always wanted! Size was never an issue with Estelle, except for one little thing, they could never be too big for her. For Estelle the motto was the bigger the better, both for her weapons and the cocks she played with.

Niet grinned with excitement thrumming through his veins.  “No more talk, eh? Alright then?” He grabbed Estelle by the hand, leading her off to the bedroom.

Morg followed behind, standing in the doorway to see what would happen. Niet pushed Estelle onto the bed, finishing removing her clothes by taking off her protective work pants and underclothes. He then happily took hold of her legs, squeezing her solid thighs with a wild look in his eyes.

“I knew you had good arms, but whoa. You’ve been hiding these things.” He suddenly shoved his head between her thighs, making Estelle yelp. 

“He wants you to crack him like a walnut,” Morg teased, still watching in the doorway.

Estelle was trying to sit up. “I can but-” he eyes flashed wide open as Niet made himself comfortable. His tongue was on her skin, her mound. “Oh!”

Morg chuckled. “He does that.”

Estelle laid back, clutching the blankets in her hands as Niet buried himself deeper, adding his fingers to the mix. “Ah! Ha ha!” Her voice came shrill and high pitched. She cupped a hand around her mouth. Niet’s tongue was warm and a little rough. There was a very well placed onyx stud that hit against her clit, both cold and warm. She closed her eyes tight, widening her hips a bit more.

“No complaints?” Morg teased, still clutching his cock.

Estelle knew what would happen if she was given a moment to breathe and let her voice out. It always happened and since this was their first time, her own reaping, she didn’t want to embarrass herself. Just yet anyways.

“Look it here,” a wet lipped Niet raised up. He licked his chops, pointing to a heart hidden in her pubes just above her slit. “What’s this?” His fingers continued to move inside Estelle. The sound of her wetness was reaching Morg’s ears.

“Ta-tattoo!” She panted out. She was still trying her best to keep herself contained.

Niet grinned. “A little heart huh. Seems too cute for you.” He leaned down, kissing it, then licking between her folds, finding her clit yet again. Estelle flinched, moaning out loud as he sucked around her protruding bud.

Morg was stroking himself off in the doorway. His thick head glistening from the pearls of precum seeping out. “He’s good with his mouth, right? I know his talking can get annoying, but he’ll do things with his tongue that would make the gods jealous.”

Estelle was biting her lip, holding back the air in her lungs that wanted to come out as words. She was turning red with sweat prickling down her skin. It was coming, but not her orgasm. There was a beat, a silence, and it came to her lips.

“Fuck me!” She yelled out. “Oh god! Fuck me with your huge cocks! Please! I want them so bad!”

Her outburst turned to silence in the room. Morg stopped pumping his fist, Niet’s tongue stuck out between his lips as he looked up at her.

Estelle spread open her thighs wide and reached down to spread herself open. “I want you so bad! Fuck me. Fuck my pretty little hole,” she whined, pleading with them. She dipped two fingers inside herself, feeling how hot and wet she had gotten. “Cum inside me and breed my little pussy.” There was a glaze to her eyes that the two hadn’t expected. Her attitude had not prepared them for this.

“Holy shit,” Niet breathed.

Morg stepped into the room.

Estelle stuck out her tongue. “Fuck my face too! Use all of me. Use my body to pleasure yourselves.”

The two were still, but not for long. Together, they took Estelle with Niet's long cock sliding down her throat while Morg stretched her ‘pretty hole’ open. Morg held her arms back, allowing Niet to thrust into her mouth.

“That’s it, good girl,” Niet snarled.

Morg pulsed from behind, gritting his teeth as he watched her wetness dribble from her lips. “I love how wet you are,” he growled. “Lets me know you’re enjoying us.”

Niet reached out, grabbing Estelle’s hair and pulling, making her take his cock deeper. Her eyes were alight, enjoying how full she felt, from above and below.

“I’ve never seen anyone take a cock like you,” Niet snarled. “Even I still choke from time to time.” He licked his lips, snarling as Estelle’s tongue pressed harder against him.

“If you cum just yet, I’ll have to satisfy her all on my own,” Morg moaned.

“My stamina is better than yours.” Niet growled.

Morg chuckled. “Let’s see what she wants.”

Niet scoffed, but pulled himself away from Estelle’s mouth. She coughed and took deep breaths, moaning as Morg continued to move.

“Don’t stop!” She begged.

Niet pulled her hair. “No intention of doing that, sweetheart. But we wanna know where you wanna go with this.”

Estelle had a dopey grin on her face. 

“Oy, i think she’s senseless.” Niet pulled her hair, tugging her head up towards him to kiss her deeply. His tongue rolled with hers until she bit him. “Careful now little alligator,” he growled at her.

“Fuck me too,” Estelle moaned. “Take that huge goblin cock and stretch me more!”

Niet looked up surprised at Morg.

“You heard her,” Morg snarled.

Niet smirked then reached for a drawer beside the bed, taking out a small glass bottle. While he was doing this, Morg moved him and Estelle so that she was laying on top of him. Estelle kissed him and peppered his body with wet pecks. 

“You’re so big,” Estelle moaned. “Your body, your hands-” she trembled a little before letting out a laugh. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s awful sweet,” Morg whispered. 

Niet was standing behind Estelle now, rubbing his cock with a slippery, viscous liquid. “Okay now, little alligator. Are you ready for this?”

“Yes!” Estelle wriggled in excitement. “Hurry!”

Niet pressed to the dusky rose at her backside, sliding his tip up and down before pressing inside. He watched her open, felt her tense. He growled, pushing deep inside in one go, his hands firmly clasping her rear.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Estelle cried out before burying her face into the curve of Morg’s neck.

“I think she came,” Morg laughed.

“Good.” Niet slapped her ass with his palm, gripping before pulling back and spanking again. “You’re such a good girl, little alligator.”

Estelle was whimpering and moaning into Morg’s neck, biting him occasionally as they moved. For her, she was in heaven. She wanted to feel her belly bulge with their cocks, their cum. Her ravenous appetite had been something she tried to hide from her sister, but most of Obresh knew what would happen if Estelle got a little too excited during arm wrestling competitions at the pub. More than once she had taken an orc or minotaur out back behind the pub to see which arm she liked better. Now, she didn’t have to go out searching. The two cocks inside her were just the sizes she had been looking for, bigger and biggest. 

Morg came first, gripping his hands tight around her waist, his cock shuddered, pulsed, and released deep inside her. Niet took his time, enjoying the mess Morg left behind before making his own. He came inside, pulled out and glazed a cheek. There was bliss after that as Estelle found satisfaction she’d been hunting for.

She woke up a little groggy in bed, tucked in and snug as a bug. The bed was quite huge, so she stretched out and sunk deeper into it. She could feel the smug look of satisfaction on her face. She laid there, letting out a sated sigh. She turned her head, hearing voices coming from outside.

Getting up, she strutted naked to the door and opened it. There she saw Niet and Morg enjoying the remainder of the tea, also naked. 

“Ah, she’s conscious.” Morg said, eating a cookie.

“Just fueling back up, little alligator,” Niet winked. “If you need us again, that is.”

She found the pitcher of water and poured herself a cup, chugging it all down in one gulp. “Phew! That was amazing!” She cheered.

“Glad to know,” Morg laughed.

“I can’t believe I got fucked like that!” Estelle continued in ecstatic bliss. “Oh my goddess!” She cupped her hands around her face. “Your cocks!”

“Glad to know,” Niet tagged in.

Estelle squealed and shivered. “You guys are the best!” She grabbed Niet’s face, pulling him into a kiss, then tugged Morg down by his braid to kiss him as well. “I’ve not cum that good in ages!” She chugged another glass of water, eyes sparkling like she had just defeated an army in a bloodthirsty battle.

“You certainly surprised us. Who knew a lady like you was into such begging and pleading.” His hand rested on her rear, gently palming it.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Estelle laughed. “I don’t know exactly where that comes from, but when I get turned on I have a tendency to make it everyone’s problem.” She bit her bottom lip and fidgeted, enjoying Morg’s warm palm.

Niet scoffed, taking a cookie from the tin. “Not a problem at all! I call it a bonus. A hot, well toned, firm assed, beauty of a woman begging for my goblin cock was all I ever wanted in this world.” He moaned as he bit into the cookie. “Fucking your face, your ass, you pussy. I’m going to get hard again just thinking about it.”

“Okay!” Estelle gasped. “Give me a few minutes to clean up and we can go again!”

Morg stopped Estelle from running off. “Hydrate. Eat something.” He commanded gently. “You’ll cramp up and ruin your good time.”

She pouted, but did as Morg asked. The cookies had the same sweet spice the tea did. “These are good.”

Niet perked up. “Stole them from the queen’s private reserve.”

Estelle looked to Morg for confirmation, to which he nodded. “He’s actually right about that one. We raided a caravan with supplies for the castle.”

“Oh wow! What did you get?”

Niet scoffed. “Just cookies. Apparently the queen likes tea parties.”

Estelle nodded. “I heard she did.” She took another cookie. “So, will you both be going back to that?”

“Adventuring, I’m sure. But now that we have a home, a base of operations, I assume we will find other things to do that don’t keep us from home so long,” Niet replied thoughtfully. “No more robbing caravans, but perhaps hunting and the like.”

That made Estelle beam. She always missed them between visits, after all they were her favorite clients before. “I don’t mind if you travel. But I would like to see more of you around.”

“Oh ho! You’re going to be seeing so much of us,” Niet laughed.

“Besides, it’s even in the quiet moments like this we can enjoy the intimacy,” Morg murmured poetically. “We’ve all shared in that pleasure and heat. Now we bask in it.”

Estelle pouted but agreed. “I suppose I don’t have to be in a hurry.” Part of her cookie fell from her fingers. “Darn. Let me get that.” She knelt down onto the ground.

Morg took in a tranquil breath. “We have all our lives to SHARE!” He screamed out the last word, bending over to grip the counter.

Niet smirked. “She’s got your cock doesn’t she?”

Morg was panting hard already, Estelle had her throat stuffed with him. “Her suction…muh-might be better than yours.”

Niet snickered, taking another cookie into his hand. He tossed it over the counter. “Oh ho. Let me get that.” He joined Estelle on the floor, kissing her neck and biting her shoulder as he slid up behind her.

Morg moaned, wiping down her face. This was what he wanted, what they all wanted. Might as well relax and enjoy it.

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[ooooo-mcyt]

Do you guys ever think about how much the first season someone was in seems to impact them going forward?

Last Life is a season where teams were shaky, uncertain. Both because of the rule that red names were forced to leave their teams and the introduction of the boogeyman curse. This gave a unique sense of isolated individualism to the season. In Last Life, more than any other season, you couldn't rely on anyone except yourself. This season is also the one where we saw the introduction of Pearl, Lizzie, and Mumbo.

Pearl, I'd say, is the one who was least impacted by this. Her team was very stable throughout Last Life. They exchanged lives and stuck close together. Scott was only red for about half a session before Pearl was, so she never really felt the team instability aspect like the others did. This, unfortunately, set Pearl up to fall harder in the Double Life, given she was unused to the isolation that Last Life theoretically could have prepared her for.

You see the effects more clearly in Mumbo and Lizzie.

Lizzie's team was torn apart in Last Life. First one of her teammates betrayed the other due to the Boogeyman curse, leading to everything Lizzie had burning, and then Lizzie lost the rest of her team anyways when she turned red. So, in Secret Life she isolates a lot, and she struggles, with trusting people, with being part of a team, with seeing anything as permanent.

Mumbo is very similar. The Southlands were a mess, cracking and reforming and falling apart all over again throughout Last Life. Mumbo was surrounded by people, and yet friend turned into foe so easily with the boogeyman curse or a teammate turning red (and then they could come back and do it all again). Is it any wonder, then, that he's paranoid now? That he often feels like the ground is going to fall out beneath him at any moment?

Then we have Secret Life, the season that really introduced Gem. I'd argue that Secret Life was a season of uncertainty and luck. Skill and tactic mattered, of course, but one bad task or unfortunate bit of damage could leave even the best players unable to do anything to save themselves. In this season, you couldn't just use your skill to recover from a stroke of bad luck.

Gem knows this better than anyone. I've said it before, but I think the fight with Grian was the downfall of Gem and The Scott's. Gem was taken off guard once and she was never able to recover from it. This made worse by the fact that it ended with a 2v1- not a fair fight, but two people teaming up to kill her as quickly as they could. Going into Wild Life, Gem very naturally grew to resent and reject a lot of what the previous season was for her. She derides the idea of sacrificing yourself, she loathes the idea of an unfair fight, she insists on being in control, on letting luck dictate as little as possible.

It's just fascinating to me how people tend to engage with and react to the unique mechanics of the season they started with going forward.

[harleykeeners]

how can I fear any hurricane? (my life was a storm since I was born)

Evan Buckley has always dealt with big emotions. However, none on the positive scale. Maybe for once something will change. 

-

Evan Buckley could count the number of people he’s felt truly loved by on one hand. His most confident one was easily Maddie, followed by Bobby, Christopher, and Jee. He noticed how half of that list consisted of people without fully developed frontal lobes, and he fears it would be shortened once the children came of age. He was too young to remember Daniel, but he likes to think he would have loved his older brother, however, that isn’t enough evidence to be added to the list. So for now, Evan Buckley is loved by four people. He notes how his parents should be on that list. Key word: should. The sinking realization he had when his mother looked at him with such disgust at Maddie’s dinner table quickly removed both of them from his mental list. A thick black line crossed over their names. He tries to not eat off Maddie’s table anymore, the mood sours the food. 

More under cut

Of course, the 118 loves him, however it often feels conditional. When Buck messes up, he feels like a wounded dog being called bad. Sometimes, he feels like he isn’t allowed to make mistakes with them. His rationale doesn’t allow him to believe that many people could love him, it isn’t right. The 118 care for him, they like him, but Buck doesn’t think they love him. At least, not in the way his list of four do.

Previous relationships were nothing past the surface for Buck. An attempt was made with Abby, but that resulted in him being left high and dry, forcing himself to stare through glass doors at the airport, watching her walk out of his life with nothing in her heart for him. 

He was told ‘never to cross the glass doors.’ He still hasn’t. 

Evan Buckley had since then given up the idea that he was lovable. It was different with children, different with Christopher and Jee. To them, Buck was a superhero. They were too young to carry his baggage, to see the scars littered across his chest and heart, and too young to see him for the broken man he pretends not to be. Buck loves them both, but the fear that one day they will truly see him frightens him. 

That is what Evan Buckley has told himself. That is what Evan Buckley knows to be true. That is what Evan Buckley believed… until Tommy kissed him in his kitchen. 

“Are you with me?” a voice asks as it snaps him back to the present. In the darkness, illuminated by only a bedside lamp, Tommy lays on his side, hand resting softly against Buck’s cheek, cradling his face. “You went somewhere, just now.” 

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around what you just said,” Buck whispers, words only for him and Tommy to hear. He’s never felt so warm, so close, so safe. It’s such a 180 from his previous relationships. Buck equates some of that to the fact that this is his first time with a man, but it goes deeper than that. Right here, with Tommy, feels different than the rest. He’s always known that. From the moment Tommy first kissed him, Buck knew it would be different. 

“Did I say it too soon?” Tommy says, and Buck stops thinking to study his face. Chiseled, and strong, with his stubble that pokes the pillow Buck can’t help but be mesmerized by him. Was this what it felt like, to be held? Buck wouldn’t know, no one had ever wrapped their arms around him and told him he was safe. He’s been that person for many people, but sometimes a man wants to fall apart. 

Buck often wants to fall apart.

“Did I ever tell you about my brother?” he asks, avoiding Tommy’s question. “I thought it was just you and Maddie?” Buck shakes his head and breathes as he repositions himself between Tommy’s arms. He doesn’t even have to ask as Tommy wraps his biceps around his chest, placing his hands over his heart. 

“He died before I could remember him.” Tommy tightens his grip around him, securing him in bed. “I never knew about him till a few years ago. Turns out it was cancer,” he stops. That word, cancer, makes the situation all the more real. Not some blaze of glory death like a lighting strike or meteor ball, but the slow painful thief of life that Buck couldn’t stop. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Tommy this, he just wants to. It’s not him looking for pity, or words of comfort. He just wants Tommy to know everything he can about him, because selfishly, Buck wants the same. The good, the bad, the nightmares that haunt him, Buck wants to hold Tommy’s heart and soul in his hands. 

Not many people know about Daniel, none of his exes do, and maybe that’s why he wants to tell Tommy. He wants this to be different. He wants it to count. 

“Do you miss him?” Tommy asks, making Buck think. Can he miss someone he didn’t know? Was it possible? He recalls how Bobby often misses God, so it must be. “Sometimes. I think so. When I was struck by lightning last year, my coma left me in this weird dream, almost like a parallel universe,” now he can’t shut his mouth. Not even Bobby knows about it, but something about the low glow of the lamp and Tommy’s cologne that lingers on the sheets makes Buck want to spill his guts.  “It was all kinds of messed up, but the one thing that brought me joy was seeing my brother. He was all grown up and…” his voice cracks a little. 

‘This is so stupid’, he thinks. ‘Tommy does not want to hear about my dead brother right now. I need to stop avoiding the elephant in the room’

“Did it make you happy to see him?” Forcing his voice to straighten out, Buck lets out a shaky breath as he looks up at Tommy and sees him actively listening. “Yeah, it did. It felt like I had someone who truly loved me. I know it sounds weird, but I’m not close with my family, aside from Maddie,” “That’s not weird,” he feels Tommy’s voice get closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of Buck’s neck. God, everything about him consumes Buck. He never wants him to let go.

“It sounds like you haven’t always had it easy,” Tommy says between kisses on Buck’s shoulders and neck. “But I meant what I said,” the kisses stop and Buck is spun around to face Tommy. “I love you, every part of you,” he pauses and looks at Buck, truly looking at him for a minute before saying, “and whatever baggage you're willing to let me carry for you, I will.”  

‘It’s too much’, Buck thinks. However, when in his life is it not? He’s never had it easy, he doesn’t think he ever will. Since he could walk, Buck’s life has been nothing short of a storm. He can barely count the number of people who love him  and he has much less wins in his arsenal as well. So maybe, just this once, he shouldn't be afraid. This feeling, this ever-consuming feeling he gets when he hears Tommy speak, will never go away. He doesn’t want it to, it’s for once something he wishes to hold. Looking at his eyes, then down to his lips, Buck tries to reciprocate. The kiss is softer than usual, tender in ways unfamiliar to Buck. Unfamiliar but not unwanted. 

“No one’s ever offered that before,” he says. “Then let me be your first and last, because you are something I’m sure about you,” Tommy says, pressing another kiss to his lips in a manner somehow more gentle than before. Buck wants to cry. 

Halfway through another kiss, Buck realizes he should probably answer him. “I love you, too.” Maybe it’s not as scary as he thinks. His list grows to five.

[starlightvld]

Bait & Switch, pt. 11 - The Epilogue

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Epilogue (End!)

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, soapghost // Hurt/Comfort, MWIII spoilers - Coming soon to AO3 as well!

---

It's been two months since Makarov. Two months of questioning bordering on interrogation, intensive therapy, mountains of paperwork, and near-crippling setbacks. The British military has placed Soap on medical leave while the doctors decide if he's solid enough to serve again, and he's also been required to remain on base as they assess the threat of Makarov's remaining network. His status among the living has been classified, of course, which means he can't contact his family, but at least it's not a hardship to stay close to his friends and the man he loves. And despite the fact that he's tried to kill Ghost on three separate occasions after waking from vivid nightmares, despite the fact that he still occasionally hears whispers telling him to blow up the base and everyone in it, Price, Gaz, and especially Ghost refuse to leave his side.

Soap tries to believe he's worth it.

At least he knows for sure now that he is Soap.

A couple of weeks after returning to Credenhill, Laswell's lab rats came back with results from the journal that, while still incomplete, were divergent enough to confirm a non-matching sample to John MacTavish's DNA. He didn't realize it was weighing on him so heavily until the burden was lifted. Further confirmation came in the form of a raid on Makarov's Siberian base — records of facial reconstruction surgeries on multiple subjects, including Soap's stand in, proved it wasn't the serum alone that changed people's appearance.

But Soap doesn't care about any of that right now.

Because he's currently sitting in a car in front of his parents' house, palms sweating as he stares at the bright red front door. His da always repainted it a different bright color in the spring to brighten up the rainy season. A thousand childhood memories flit through his mind, and he has to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

He doesn't technically have approval to reveal himself to his family, but as Ghost said when Soap first brought it up: who's gonna rat him out? Laswell? Not likely. And Soap's family has suffered long enough.

He has suffered long enough.

And when Price cut through the red tape to approve several weeks of leave to "take care of business" with a wink and smile, Soap couldn't get to Scotland fast enough.

"Ready?" Ghost murmurs, hand coming to rest on Soap's thigh.

His body is attempting to shake his bones out of his skin, but the warm, comforting weight steadies him. He grits his teeth, slips on one of Ghost's plain black balaclavas, and nods. 

They step out of the car, and the familiar sound of pea gravel crunching under his boots throws him back to his childhood, his chest twinging at the sepia-toned memories of slipping bike tires and skinned knees. Soap keeps his gaze locked on Ghost's back, too afraid of getting lost in the memories to let his attention wander. They're both wearing civilian clothes, though Ghost is wearing a SAS cap as an identifier along with a black medical mask covering the lower half of his face.

The door opens before Ghost can knock. Soap's chest caves in at the sight of his father filling the doorway. He takes after his da the most — broad, dark-haired and blue-eyed — and Soap scans over every new line and every extra gray hair since he'd last seen him.

He looks older. Worn.

"Mr. MacTavish, you might not remember me, but I'm Lieutenant Simon Riley. I have some news for you. May we come in?"

"Aye. I remember ye. But I cannae understand what yer doin' here. There's no one left for ye tae take away from me now, is there?"

The bitterness in his father's tone is a pill that threatens to choke Soap. He doesn't realize he's stepped forward until Ghost's arm comes up to wrap around his shoulders.

"No one to take away, no. But I did bring someone back."

At the pointed emphasis, his father blinks, and for the first time, he glances at Soap. His eyes widen as blue meets blue.

"It would be best if we come inside, Mr. MacTavish," Ghost says in a gentle tone.

"Aye," his da whispers as he opens the door wide.

They file inside, and Soap can't take it anymore. As soon as the door clicks shut, he rips off the mask.

"'Allo, Da. Surprise?"

He doesn't have a chance to say anything more as his da barrels into him, nearly knocking him over. Tears stream down his face and soak into Soap's shirt, and Soap realizes he's crying too as his Da whispers "my lad, my lad, my wee laddie is home" over and over in his ear.

---

Ghost warned Soap from the beginning not to try to be his old self. And as one of the few people with experience in coming back from the dead, he trusts the advice.

It doesn't make it any easier to follow it, though.

It takes the whole first visit before anyone in the MacTavish household can speak or look at him without bursting into tears. His two sisters Meg and Claire and his brother Paul arrive as soon as possible with spouses and kids in tow. He goes from one embrace to another and then back until even his touch-starved body can't take much more.

The devastated glances at his many scars are even more difficult to handle.

Ghost is a life-saver, gently-but-adamantly telling them all that Soap needs to rest but they'll be back in the morning. His mam wants him to stay at the house, of course, but he just... can't. She seems to understand, even if he can feel her disappointment following him out the door.

"You're doing good, Johnny," Ghost praises in a soft tone as they drive back to their rented place. "It's not easy to set boundaries. But they'll learn. And you'll heal. Eventually, things will equalize."

"Thank ye," he says, sounding tired even to himself.

The words aren't enough — will never be enough compared to everything Ghost has done for him over the past few months. But he'll be damned if he doesn't at least make sure Ghost knows he's grateful.

The soft look he gets in return and the gentle mouth and hands that worship him later that night reassure him that Ghost does, in fact, know.

---

The July wind is downright balmy for the Highlands, only coaxing a hint of red into the apples of Ghost's bare cheeks as they walk hand-in-hand down the path toward their rented cabin. They're about a mile from the nearest village — close enough to walk but far enough to feel cozy and isolated on the cabin property. 

Soap looks over and smiles at his lover. The smile widens to a grin at the way Ghost smiles back, his cheeks taking on an extra flush.

They've been in Scotland for two weeks, and visiting his family has gotten easier with each passing day. They look at his scars less and at him more. And he's acclimatizing to all the touching and affection they need to give to make sure he's really there and alive.

His da hasn't taken kindly to their insistence that they can't talk about what happened. Soap can only promise him that it was the fault of the enemy and not the Task Force.

His mam hasn't taken kindly to the fact that he won't confirm if he and Ghost are an "item" as she calls it, but neither he nor Ghost are ready for that level of MacTavish exuberance. For now, their story is that Ghost has been assigned to watch over Soap due to his trauma recovery.

Which is going... Well... it's going.

They're taking a walk in the first place because Soap stormed out of a video call with his mandated therapist. Ghost followed him with their jackets and his gentle, undemanding presence. After a couple of miles, Soap's anger, mostly at himself, burned out, and he let Ghost slip a hand into his and pull him close.

How could he not smile at that?

"Been thinkin'," Ghost says in that calm, almost monotone voice of his.

It always sets Soap at ease, so it takes him a moment to prompt, "Aye? Does it hurt?"

"Cheeky fucker. Listen up."

"I'm listening."

"Was talkin' to your da—"

"Tha's dangerous."

"You gonna let me talk?"

Soap presses his lips together to hold back a laugh—God, it feels so good to want to laugh again—and nods. "Sorry. Just feeling a bit off kilter."

Ghost squeezes his hand. Soap squeezes back.

"He said he's got a bit of land a few miles north he's been meaning to sell. I've been earnin' money for years with nowt to spend it on. I thought if you wanted, we could buy it and maybe build a place of our own."

Soap jolted to a stop. Their linked hands strained for a moment before Ghost walked back to him.

"The MacTavish farm?" Soap asks in a breathless tone.

"Mmmhmm," Ghost confirms. "Your da says the old house is gone, but the foundation is still sound."

Soap remembers long days on the farm with his granda, almost thirty years ago now, with the nostalgic fondness of childhood. He would play with the animals and "help" his granda around the farm as a wean.

The idea of living there now...

"Are ye sure? It's a bit secluded."

"Even better," Ghost says with a small smile.

"When would we have time to build a whole house, though? S'not like we'll get leave like this again any time soon."

Ghost puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. Soap comes willingly, always grateful for the warm and solid presence of the man he loves. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, the glide slow and lazy, as if they have all the time in the world. As if—

Soap pulls back suddenly and searches Ghost's bare face. His expression is just as relaxed as the kiss, that small smile still gracing the corners of his lips. 

"Ye want tae leave the military?"

"About to hit my years of service for a full retirement. And..." Ghost's smile drops away as he lifts their clasped hands to press a kiss against Soap's knuckles. His voice is soft and serious as he admits, "I don't wanna risk losin' you again. Don't think I'd survive it, Johnny."

Soap swallows and lets himself sink into the admission. The whole of his career, all he's ever wanted is to use his skills and knowledge to make the world a safer place. Instead, he lost three years of his life and inflicted immeasurable harm while in the hands of the enemy. Even if the psychologists and the brass clear him to go back to work, he's not sure he'll ever trust himself in the field again. With the precision required for their jobs, that's practically a death sentence.

Besides, his family would be glad to have him home for good. And he knows they'll come to love Ghost, too. His mam is halfway there already with all of Ghost's subdued politeness.

The more he thinks about it, the more the idea of getting out — of getting a fresh start — appeals to him, though he supposes that's not really a surprise in the end. After all, the most important thing he ever found in the military would be coming with him to Scotland.

"I wanna be wherever ye are, Simon Riley."

Ghost's smile returns. Their next kiss explodes with joy, and Soap leans into it, letting himself be swept away by the swipe of Ghost's tongue and the hard press of his lips. When they finally pull back, Soap is ready to run back to the cabin, eager to take Ghost apart and be taken apart in return. Ghost holds him back, though, his gaze once more serious.

"I want you to be sure about this. No regrets."

"I think it's a grand idea," Soap says before kissing him again. "Where ye lead, I'll follow, aye Lt?"

Ghost hums as he finally lets go of Soap's shoulders and gently tugs at their clasped hands. "How about we walk together, side by side?"

A slow smile spreads across Soap's face as visions of a quiet life dance in his head — a life without fear of capture or torture and without the risk of losing each other at any moment.

"Aye," he murmurs. "I can do tha'."

He kisses Ghost one last time before letting him pull them back toward the cabin.

There's still a lot of work to do before they can take that final step forward, but until then, he'll cherish the idea of a house all their own where they can live out their days in peace. After years of hell, it's good to know a bit of heaven awaits him. And maybe when they finally have a house of their own, Soap will indulge in those matching rings he's been dreaming about. 

Because it wouldn't be heaven without Ghost by his side.

---

FIN

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Randomly had a Thought earlier. Klavier's default response to Kristoph seems to be the fawn response. This isn't even subtext. Apollo and Trucy both point out that Klavier's acting different and specifically attribute it to Kristoph being on the witness stand, and their dialogue implies he's experiencing a fawn response. Here's some specific bits of dialogue.

After pressing the "I have been in solitary confinement for half a year. How could I poison her?" part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: ...Prosecutor Gavin's on the warpath, isn't he? Apollo: Yeah... You think so too, Trucy? Trucy: I bet I know why. He must be nervous with big brother watching!

After pressing the "The prosecution's case holds. She poisoned her father, then attempted to poison herself." part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: Wow, the two brothers together is like a two-man wrecking team! Apollo: They could use a little more teamwork, though.

*Also notable here is that after pressing this specific part of Kristoph's testimony, Klavier starts to answer Apollo's question on why Vera would commit suicide, let alone by doing her nails, and Kristoph answers for him and Klavier just lets him. If that doesn't qualify as a fawn response, I don't know what does, because that's the ONLY time Klavier lets a witness talk over him. Also, Apollo's dialogue here specifically is what made me say Trucy and Apollo's dialogue implies Klavier's experiencing a fawn response.

After pressing the "Surely, you aren't going to suggest I was responsible for poisoning her father, too?" part of Kristoph's testimony:

Trucy: Does Prosecutor Gavin seem strange to you, too? It's like he's all grown-up… Apollo: I think that's how prosecutors are supposed to be, actually. (Though he is acting different than usual... ...I'll bet it has a lot to do with his brother Kristoph being in the room...)

And then Klavier goes completely silent until Apollo brings up the fact that the stamp from the Mishams' studio was found in Kristoph's cell, and he simply says "What...?!" in response to Apollo reiterating that Kristoph killed Drew). And then he goes silent again until Kristoph accuses Apollo of bluffing a second time.

This leads into my second Thought on Klavier's behavior in this entire scene. I might just be projecting but I think Klavier might've been dissociating here too. In fact I'd be surprised if he's not. I personally have OSDD, which causes me to experience dissociative trances and depersonalization. If I was in Klavier's position, it would've at the very least made my depersonalization symptoms worse (which says a lot because I'm already in a near constant state of depersonalization). I'm not really sure what to add here but basically, I think there's a pretty high chance that Klavier was experiencing dissociation during Kristoph's testimony. Fawn responses are commonly traumagenic, and so is dissociation.

Anyway I didn't go into this expecting to admit I'm projecting my OSDD onto Klavier but I'm definitely leaving this admitting I'm probably projecting my OSDD onto Klavier lol

[five-rivers]

If you’re still taking soft body horror asks:

I’ve always wondered what would happen to Danny if Clockwork hadn’t untangled him in A Kitten in blinds

Alternate ending, here we go!!

.

When Clockwork started to unwind loops of chain, Danny thought the ordeal (such as it was) was over. But although Clockwork pulled away a great deal of chain, Danny never seemed to get any looser. In fact, when Clockwork stepped back, frowning, more of the hanging chains were involved than before.

Danny didn't know how that worked, because it shouldn't. Thinking about it was starting to give him a headache.

"Uh, Clockwork?" said Danny. "I'm still, um, a bit tied up, here."

"I am aware," said Clockwork, scowling. "Someone thinks they are being clever."

"Who?"

"You truly do need to read those books."

Long Now ticked again and Danny was both squeazed and stretched. It seemed that, somehow, one of the chains that was actually being pulled down, as opposed to just hanging down, had gotten under his arms, like a sort of harness.

It felt... not bad, actually. But he still wanted out before he was ripped apart or something.

"Cutting it is," said Clockwork. He split off a duplicate, who flew out of the room.

"Sorry," said Danny. "Maybe I can hel-- eep."

The clocks had gone tock again, the chains ratcheting one link in each direction. And-- how many directions was that again? It was definitely more than two... Danny was starting to feel a little light-headed.

"Clockwork," he said, "Clockwork, how many dimensions are in here?"

"As many as time travels in," said Clockwork.

"Time is one-dimensional," said Danny.

"Is it?" asked Clockwork. His scowl deepened. "The cutters have been hidden."

"What? Hidden? By..." Danny hesitated. "Long Now?"

"It likes you, unfortunately," said Clockwork.

The clocks ticked again, and the chains were again pulled tighter, although at least this time it was in a dimension that wasn't quite as tight. Danny swallowed as he swung slightly in that direction, but not any direction he could actually see.

"So that, uh, that liking me. Is that like, friendship liking me, or more like a dog with a new favorite chew toy?"

"For lairs, liking someone generally equates to wanting to keep them."

"Is that why you hardly ever g-- ouwww," groaned Danny. The tension wasn't really painful yet, not even in the weirder directions, but it was still tension his body didn't like to be under.

It was times like these that Danny would have really liked to deform his body on command, rather than as some weird ghostly reflex.

"Can't you," panted Danny, "freeze me or something? In time, I mean? Or just-- Stop time? You know?"

"You, I could stop," said Clockwork. "Long Now is a different story."

"Because, um, because it also does time stuff?" asked Danny.

Clockwork sighed. "If you must put it that way."

Some internal descision-making process must have happened on Long Now's part, because Danny abruptly found himself hoisted an additional ten feet in the air. And ten feet closer to the gears.

While being yanked upwards, one part of the chain had wrapped around his neck.

"Clockwork," said Danny, "you can still get me out, right?"

"Sometimes," said Clockwork, grimly, "the only way out is through."

"I-- Clockwork, I'm still half human. I can't survive that." As soon as he finished the sentence, Danny was jerked higher.

"You will," said Clockwork.

"I can't." Higher.

"You can."

"Clockwork--"

Up again. How was it that the earlier ticks and tocks had so much time between them and these so little?

"I will wait for you on the other side," said Clockwork. "And, for your earlier question, yes, I think you can."

"What?" Even closer. It was hard for him to tell, but he thought he was only inches away. The gears were loud, up here, but not louder than the frantic beat of his heart.

"Help me with the repair work."

Danny was so busy staring at Clockwork that he almost didn't realize he'd been pulled in. He was, however, relieved to discover that his ability to deform did reflexively activate under pressure. His bones went rubbery, his muscles flattened. He was crushed into the chain, squishing around it. It was... The closest thing he could compare the feeling to was a very rough, deep, massage.

The gears turned. He passed back into a larger area - he couldn't tell much about it, with his eyeballs pushed flat - and tried to return to his regular shape, but he was quickly pulled back into the gears.

Again and again, he was pressed between gears, wound around chains, and passed around stranger machinery, clockwork bits he couldn't even name. He went up, down, around, in, out, back, forth, and in directions that his brain couldn't process. Each time he had enough time in enough space, he tried to reform, and each time he started to reform more slowly. He started getting softer, too, his body turning from rubber, to dough, to putty, to goo, to ooze, to slime, to oil.

He was spread thin in the interstices of Long Now, and pulled in a dozen different directions, separated from himself and flowing into himself. He felt time passing in a regular rhythm beaten into him through the turning of gears, the twisting of chains, the ringing of bells.

Every so often, he caught snippets of broader awareness. Moments of vision, of hearing, of color, light, sound, smell. He heard Clockwork, for just a moment, say, 'There were easier ways, if you needed to be oiled...' He tasted metal and sugar. He saw jewel-bright bearings as big as his head sparkle in half light.

Then he was, slowly, pulled back together. Not all of him, but a great deal, and he was dripped, bit by bit, into a receptacle, a mold. Into two molds. Three. Into many molds.

The molds were closed, then, the largest of them was spun and chilled, and Danny solidified on the inner walls. When the mold was opened, he just laid there, not used to having a solid body anymore.

This was a good thing. It meant that he wasn't moving when he was opened up.

The other molds were opened, and their contents placed in the huge cavity that took up most of his new body. Gears, chains, rods. Metal gears, rods, and chains were put inside as well, made of the same stuff as Long Now.

They were placed carefully, their movement tested, and then more of Danny, still liquid, was poured inside to help. It felt so natural, but so foreign, and Danny was still paralyzed, overwhelmed by all of it.

He was closed with a click, and the last mold was picked up and broken open, revealing a key. It was pressed into his chest, making a keyhole, and then turned, locking everything with a heavy, meaty click.

Danny flailed.

"Breathe, Daniel," said Clockwork.

How, when he didn't have lungs? When he wasn't entirely sure he had an esophagus?

"Breathe," repeated Clockwork. "It will help."

He sucked in a breath of air, and as it moved through him, the clockwork inside him changed, smoothly morphing back into human-like organs.

He panted, drooling, until Clockwork wiped off his lower lip.

"There's still parts of me in there," said Danny, pointing at the mass of industrial machinery he'd emerged of.

"And there are parts of Long Now in you," said Clockwork, tapping Danny's chest.

The key was still in there. "If this is it liking me, I don't want to know what it does to people it dislikes."

"No," agreed Clockwork, "you don't." He took the end of Danny's key in his hand and smoothly pulled it back and out. It disappeared somewhere in Clockwork’s robes.  

That distraction taken care of, Danny could look at the other changes he’d suffered.  Dark lavender-gray, almost black, robes and cloak unfolded from his shoulders, stitching themselves as they unfurled, slowly, gently, like a set of wings. His skin was a pale, snowy blue, and his fingertips blushed purple-blue. The surface of his nails had a metallic sheen. His hair was longer, shaggier, falling in front of his eyes.

He reached up to brush it out of his eyes and encountered-- Were those ears? Were those his ears?

"You have a tail, too," pointed out Clockwork, unhelpfully.

"Clockwork, why?"

"I suppose I should not use metaphors or similes so freely," said Clockwork, in lieu of an answer.

Danny felt his face screw up and his begin to prick. He his his face in the folds of Clockwork's cloak.

"How much of me has changed?" he asked.

"Less than you would think," said Clockwork, patting Danny's head.

To Danny's abject horror and embarrassment, he began to purr. It felt exactly as satisfying to do so as he'd always imagined, which somehow made it worse, not better.

"I can give you an accounting of alterations, if you would like," offered Clockwork, "before we get started on putting all the chains to right."

Right. Because Danny had messed them up by getting stuck.

"Are they going to grab me again?"

"No," said Clockwork.

Danny gave a small nod. "Okay."

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #4 – Gardens of the Moon by Steven Erikson

In the time between first hearing about Malazan and finally reading this, I have seen its reputation peak as The Only Fantasy Series anyone online recommended (long since dethroned by Sanderson), get submerged in the backlash, and finally just seem to fade from discourse entirely. In that time, I have been relentlessly peer-pressured and bullied (affectionate) into giving this ten-book saga a chance. And so, as a project for 2025, I will be endeavouring to get through it. Gardens, if it doesn’t live up to the hype (an impossible ask, really), is at least a very entertaining and engaging piece of sprawling epic fantasy to start it off.

Set in a sprawling, ancient fantasy world Gardens of the Moon is (to generalize and simplify) about the attempts of the Malzan Empire to conquer Darujhistan, last and greatest of the Free Cities, before the simmering discontent among its inner provinces and much-abused legions erupts into full scale rebellion. It is also about the various gods and immortals involving themselves in those attempts, most obviously the immortal (basically) elven sorcerer-lord Anomander Rake and his private war against the empire, but also including between at least two entirely unrelated sets of ascendant demigods and their schemes. The story is told through a whole myriad of different points of view, at least half of whom are fighting for the position of ‘main character’ in the narrative structure.

This is very much Map Fantasy, both literally (there are in fact maps and lexicons included in my copy) and figuratively – which is to say, in both tone and the tropes its drawing upon this is very much Epic High Fantasy in the Tolkeinesque tradition. It is, I’m told, actually based in some way on the author’s D&D campaigns – and if I hadn’t been told, I would have guessed. I cannot remember the last time I read a story where the setting and Lore so obviously preceded and is considered by the author to be as or more important than the particular narrative currently being told with it. Very nearly every single character, setting and concept that’s introduced feels like it’s being re-introduced, having already been the centre of a whole story in their own right in some other book. Which does an excellent job of making the world really feel like it has history, but does also just start to get exhausting at a certain point, and makes keeping track of the actual stakes more than a little difficult.

I want to say I came into this story blind, but that’s not really correct – I knew nothing at all about the story, but I’ve had a friend telling my little tidbits about the lore and metaphysics for years now. This was probably incredibly helpful for my reading experience – even compared to the rest of the genre, this is a story absolutely in love with Proper Nouns, even for fairly traditional fantasy concepts and tropes. If you just go with the flow and let them wash over you until the context clues start piling up I think you’ll probably do okay? But I can’t lie and say already knowing what e.g. a tiste, jaghut or warren was when I started didn’t help.

With that proviso – the series’ whole imposing reputation as impossible dense and indecipherable feels very overblown to me? Even if the exact mechanics of magic and godhood are pretty opaque, (almost) everyone’s motivations and desires are pretty clear and I was never at all confused by what was actually happening on-page or (in the character/motivation sense) why. Aside from the sheer number of POVs and nested subplots, in narrative terms it seems like fairly conventional, traditional (if higher powered and more magic-heavy) epic fantasy. Though saying that, I actually cannot remember the last time I actually read another example of the genre (would Witch King count?), so maybe my memory’s a bit warped here.

The book honestly surpassed my expectations going into it – or better to say perhaps that I had worries that proved to be unfounded. I was anxious going in that this would just be 700 pages of exposition and table-setting for the actual story that would unfold over the other nine books. Thankfully, while there was some of that (Tattersail’s whole arc, especially) you very much do get a complete narrative with its own stakes, climax, and conclusion here. If this was a standalone book, I’d be slightly annoyed at all the extraneous tangents, but it would hardly feel like I’d wasted my time. Which is more than you can say for some series these days.

But not to damn with faint praise - reading the book, I do absolutely get at least some of where the reputation comes from. Everything about the world does just oozes with care and attention, the plots cohere and occasionally compel, there are a number of really incredibly memorable set-pieces, and I actually like a solid fraction of the POVs. It’s probably the best execution of epic fantasy I can remember reading.

The ensemble cast is I feel either the greatest strength or most fatal flaw of the book as a reading experience. I always love the cast-of-thousands feel, but when taken to this level I’m sure a lot of people find it alienating and confusing. Admittedly I probably loved it more than usual here because some of the characters most heavily signposted and weighed down with narrative significance as The Protagonists were also just by far the least interesting or compelling parts of the book (I’m sorry but I simply do not care about Whiskeyjack even slightly, even leaving aside how he spent the entire book making things strictly worse and breaking things for unclear benefit to anyone).

The book’s character writing is unfortunately uneven, at least as far as drives and motivations though. Sometimes it’s interesting and subtle, somethings it sensible but a bit baldly stated and tell-don’t-show, and sometimes it feels painfully obvious when revelations and changes of heart occur on the timetable of the plot rather than the reverse (Captain Paran’s sudden-but-total disillusionment with the empire and willingness to risk life and limb for vengeance on his former boss and join an armed rebellion felt especially thinly justified, for such a major character).

Thematically the book is very interested in tyranny and subjugation, though I’m not entirely sure it had anything much to say about them. The portrayal of the Malazan Empire as this horrible world-eating engine of domination is rather significantly undercut by half of the sympathetic POVs we have being agents or officers of it driven to defection/rebellion by a nefarious usurper trying to purge the old guard who made the empire great (I don’t think a single characters says a positive word about the Empress in the entire book? And her only two loyal agents are positioned as the most villainous actual characters in the whole book). It being so prominent gives the history of the setting an appealingly tragic cast, at least.

Anyway yeah, I have quibbles (far too many words spent on characters making vague pronouncements of undescribed plans, some characters/elements introduced in the climax without real foreshadowing or buildup, for a book with this many POVs it comes embarrassingly close to failing the Bechdel Test, etc) but all in all this quite a really fun read. Looking forward to starting the next one next month.

[sturniolostars]

𝓟𝓤𝓒𝓚𝓘𝓝𝓖 𝓐𝓡𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓓

∗ smut, mentions of death, abuse, eating disorders, self harm, overall mature themes

∗ Chris was used to everyone liking him. But Evelyn hates hockey players and Chris hates her and her stupid figure skating. However they have to share a rink for now and can’t help but feel a pull towards each other. How will this play out in the end?

Previous Chapter

Chris’s pov

What did she mean she knew? How did she find out? Who told her? It doesn’t matter I need to explain myself before she tells people false information or even worse the actual true information. I grab her wrist before she can walk out.

“Please just come up to my room and I’ll explain” I can see that she wants to say no and leave, but also knows that if she doesn’t give me a chance right now I’ll probably throw her over my shoulder and taker her upstairs myself.

With that, she sighs and nods. I take her upstairs to my room and punch in the code for my door and drag her inside before closing it behind me and turning to her. “What do you know?” I demand.

“I know that it was one of your teammates that got some girl pregnant while she was dating some other dude and he wasn’t very happy.” She sounded pissed. Who wouldn’t be. That made all of us sound like jerks. But it’s also not what happened

“Look they didn’t even hookup. Yes she got pregnant but it’s her actual boyfriend’s baby and she must have just got scared and blamed it on the only other person she could which happened to be my teammate.” I explain “he also didn’t know she had a boyfriend”

I can see her soften a little at that and nod. I walk closer to her half because when we were walking upstairs her ass was in my face and I wanted to fuck her for it and the other was to prove my point. “You can’t tell anyone” my voice comes out huskier.

She nods. “I won’t” she whispered. I can feel myself getting hard already. “You know you’re such a tease” I growl putting my hands on her hips. She looks confused. “Me? What did I do?!”

I smirk. “That perfect ass of yours was in my face the whole way up the stairs” she scoffs. “Well I can’t really control that” I chuckle and lean in to start kissing her neck. I can feel her shiver and watch goosebumps invade her skin. She says she hates me but her body thinks otherwise.

Evvie’s pov

I do hate him. I do I do I do. Or at least that’s what I want to tell myself. I roll my eyes at how pathetic I’m being. He lays me onto his bed. And while I won’t stop this because I think I’d start sobbing I will be cocky.

“You think you can just fuck me?” I scoff. He kisses my neck again. “No but let me make it up to you” he says dragging my panties down my legs. His fingers work my clit and slide up and down my folds.

“So wet for me. Is this what hate does?” He teases. “I bet you couldn’t even find my g-spot. I can draw a map to it just for you so I don’t regret-“ I’m cut off with a loud moan as he shoves two fingers into me.

He pumps them in and out of me while still rubbing my clit. My back arches a bit. Okay maybe I should not have made that joke because all I felt now were his long slender fingers abusing my g-spot.

He brought his mouth down to suck on me and my back arches off the bed. I was already about to cum but I’ll just blame it on that fact I haven’t been laid in a while and not the fact this man is destroying me and he’s not even fucking me with his cock.

“I fucking hate you– fuck I’m cumming!” I moan. My orgasm hits me like a tidal wave and I can feel myself convulsing around his fingers. He pulls said fingers out and slurps up my juices. It was pretty hot but fuck–

I can’t believe what I just did. I’m supposed to hate him. Not cum all over his face. I quickly grab my panties and race out the door like I’ve been in track my whole life before Chris can even register what happened.

Fuck me

a/n: might get another part out today too, so I hope you enjoy! (Tell me if you wanna be added to the taglist)

Tags: @kadesturnz @stargazer6969 @megamorgan44 @watercolorskyy @wurlibydominicfike @sturnslux3 @courta13 @kikirasweatsweathoho @bernardsbendystraws @idrk2292

[stormisamoth]

yapping about c3e120 (spoilers)

I know I say it every week but I just can't get over how fucking epic these maps look

suddenly hit with the desire to draw ashton third wheeling imodna movie date

the look of relief on Robbie's face after orym escapes being eaten 🥰

dorian embracing the fact that he's royalty and a badass despite how afraid and insecure he feels I'm so proud of my boy

holy shit a seventhnintheighth level spell

over 170 damage is actually insane

oh fuck fearne is unconscious

oh fuck nat 1 on the death save oh fuck

imogen convincing braius to heal fearne by showing him her titty. close enough welcome back vex and scanlan.

aw that laudna painting is gorgeous

oh fuck both dorian and braius down

LIAM DONT SAY THAT DONT START BEING ALL IM GLAD WE HAD A RELATIONSHIP BEFORE THE END HES NOT GONNA DIE DONT MAKE ME CRY

fuck now Imogen's down

fuck I think this is the roughest final fight they've had, like 3 down and almost all their healers gone. like I think fearne is the only one with healing left

man this fight is STRESSFUL I feel like at least one of them isn't coming out alive

fuck the amount of fear orym is probably feeling at potentially losing another partner to this fight

NOT HIS CAL TO HEAL UP DORIAN MIRORING HIS SENDING TO REUNITE WITH HIM AFTER FCG DIED I AM CRYING

FUCK AND NOW ORYM IS DOWN

fuck that is half the party down holy shit

STRESSED

not fearne rolling a 1 again on the death saves

genuinely this could be a tpk and I will cry

Travis and Laura such a beautiful relationship

FUCK YEAH METEOR SWARM

Abubakar coming in clutch

oh shit they gonna get smote

I love how bitchy the hells are in face of authority I love it so much

fuck that was such an insane episode

[pseudophan]

wait i'm new here and i'm curious, if you're okay talking about it what happened before in the uk / why did you move back?

longass story but i've complained about this whole ordeal so much on here i think if i do the whole thing again people will get mad at me like omg we get it. anyway here it is again:

i moved to england (milton keynes specifically which all brits find very funny) with my mum in 2016 to go to high school because norway requires you to do six thousand subjects even if you "specialise" in something and i just did not have that in me. every subject combined with an instant fail if you miss more than like three lessons? absolutely the fuck not. in mk i did a level 3 creative media btec which is known as a bit of a joke because it won't make you kill yourself as much as a-levels, but lowkey i enjoyed it SO much. i've heard media btecs are very hit or miss depending on your tutors but mine were really good! half my class was only there because they flunked out of their a-levels and wanted something easy, but by like week two i'd say most of them were really into it

after college i started a film and tv production course at uni in london, none of the fancy unis because rip my grades lmao but it was a good time. year one went alright, but then when i applied for a loan for the second year months went by and i didn't hear anything until literally DECEMBER, halfway through the year, when they got back to me and were like oh sorry you don't qualify for the loan. oh and we're also taking back the money you got for the first year, so now you're in immediate debt to us for that and to the uni directly for the months you just did where we just couldn't be bothered to tell you you didn't qualify for any funding. hope this helps!

basically because i'd already lived in the uk for a couple of years before university i could apply as an english student rather than an international one, which is much cheaper so that was great. i also, IN THEORY, qualified for a loan through the student loans company, which is, IN THEORY, much easier and less annoying than the norwegian one because you don't start paying it back right away, you can wait until you're actually making x amount of money. all good. the problem was that the only reason we could afford to just fuck off and move to england in the first place was that my mum got to keep her norwegian job and work from home, meaning we weren't sure if i DID actually qualify for the loan because the way she was paying taxes was like kind of confusing. i still don't know exactly how it works, but i guess you pay it all to one country and then they split it? cause you're effectively paying taxes to both norway and the uk but you're not supposed to have to pay More so idk. who knows. not me. but yeah so we called them Multiple times to ask if i was in fact eligible for a loan and every time they were like yeah it's no problem. my bad for not getting it in writing by the way, always do that. then like i said they fully accepted my loan for the first year after looking through all our documents so clearly it WAS in fact fine, or at least enough people working there believed it was.

i have no idea what actually happened with the second year application, or which one got evaluated wrong. might have been the first one, might be the second, i'll probably never know. the real kicker though is that if they just got back to me earlier i could have gotten a norwegian loan and it would probably be fine, but because they were months late i only had like two weeks until the application deadline for the norwegian one and because the whole situation was so complicated and confusing, and i was struggling really hard with any paperwork or essays because of my super cool then-still-undiagnosed adhd, i just didn't have it in me to fight it. i was like whatever, guess i have to just drop out. didn't actually have to drop out, they suspended me for unpaid fees. i kept going until they turned off my key card though and banned me from campus lol, my tutors were just like eh keep showing up until it doesn't work anymore, it's not like they can suspend you out any more 😭

fuck knows what my plan was after dropping out. in my head i was like, well i can probably get a shitty job for a bit and yeah it probably won't go very well but it's not like i've tried, who knows! and then uhhhh covid happened LMFAO, so nevermind that shit! turns out getting a job in covid lockdown london is Difficult. my mum moved back in the middle of covid and a few months later i had to follow and now half a decade later here we are </3

[celli-ohs]

yeowza!

part three of accidentally in love! series gamer!beomgyu x streamer!reader; college!au, fake relationship fluff, comedy, angst, smut

ATTENTION: reply/comment for tag list

5. buy me robux (written chapter 2.2k)

It wasn’t that Beomgyu hated parties. No, in fact, he liked them, under the right circumstances at least. And right now, this party was under all the wrong ones. There was a reason he always tried to avoid going to the ETEN frat parties: it was too loud, too crowded, everyone was either too drunk or high out of their mind to function properly, the bathroom smelled weird, and worst of all it was like everyone was extra horny the second they stepped foot into the house. Well, maybe that was more than one reason, but he didn’t care, all Beomgyu wanted to do was go home. Currently, he had holed himself inside a tiny little closet in the back of the hallway. He’s sitting on the ground, knees to his chest while he distracts himself from the outside world by playing Roblox on his phone.

Usually, Beomgyu didn’t have to resort to hiding when he was forced to come to these parties, but Kai had begged him to join. Soobin was spending the night with his girlfriend, Taehyun unfortunately had a study group, and Kai was too busy talking to others to realize he was gone. Yeonjun (who was his and Kai’s ride back home) claimed he couldn’t care less whether or not he came but ironically seemed to be checking on Beomgyu the most. With no one to hang out and waste time with, he decided it’d be better to get out of the way. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself. In reality, he’s terrified to step foot outside the little closet. When he arrived, he was happily glued to Heeseung’s side, the birthday boy was having a blast.

But about an hour and a half into the party, Jeongin finally arrives, and with him is a parade. Beomgyu immediately spots you in the sea of drunk adults, squished between your friends Yuna and Felix. You’re gorgeous, so beautiful his stomach drops and he feels like he might puke if you look his way. “Hey! You guys made it-” Beomgyu pushes past Heeseung, running up the stairs and down the hall before you notice him. He already felt bad when Jeongin revealed you thought he hated you, and he knew he would only make a fool out of himself if you tried to talk to him, so he’d rather flee than confront you. So that’s why he was huddled inside the closet, wasting time before Yeonjun finally called him when it was time to go.

He’s pretty comfortable, leaning against someone’s old coat as his eyes are glued to his screen when the door to the closet swings open, revealing his peace to the chaotic world outside. “There you are! Dude, where have you been?” Jeongin looks at him incredulously, kneeling down to eye level. “What the hell are you doing in here?” He asks loudly, trying to compete with the volume of the party. Beomgyu shrugs. “Just chilling,” He tries to sound like this was intentional and not because he was avoiding you. Knowing his nature, Jeongin just nods, cheeks already a bit rosy from the alcohol. “I brought you a beer,” He shows him the glass bottle and hands it to Beomgyu, who pauses his game to take a sip. “Quick question, is your friend Kai single?” Jeongin suddenly asks.

Beomgyu quirks a brow. Kai was definitely single. He’s been chronically single since birth, which always shocked Beomgyu because Kai was the biggest green flag to ever exist. Maybe it was Kai himself who held high standards, but then again, there was that one time he confessed to him that he would date Beomgyu if he was a girl, and Beomgyu wasn’t exactly the ideal type. (Beomgyu rejected him kindly, and the two kept it a secret between them). “Yeah. Super single.” He quips. Jeongin looks relieved at this. “Cool, my friend Yuna likes him.” Beomgyu short circuits as he hears this. Shin Yuna, the renowned supermodel and beauty influencer? The same Yuna whose face is plastered all over the city? Shin Yuna, whose last boyfriend was a professional soccer player overseas? That Yuna was interested in Kai Kamal Huening?

No offense to Kai, but most if not all girls ran away after they realized how dorky he was. Beomgyu hasn’t even noticed Jeongin has left to share the news when someone else stops at his feet. “Beomgyu? What’re you doing here?” Yeonjun’s girlfriend looks down at him with wide eyes and shock written all over her face. “Oh hey. Just playing Roblox. I’m playing Fart Attack.” He shows her his screen. She’s not impressed by this at all. “Okay, well I just wanted to let you know that we’re singing Happy Birthday to Heeseung in an hour,” She informs him. “Thanks, I’ll be there. Shut the door will you?” He asks, going back to his phone. She scoffs, finding him funny, and does as she’s told, leaving him be.

He doesn’t know how long he’s alone again, all he knows is that he’s battling it out in the toilet with some kid whose username is blandchikenlegs. Someone hits the door, causing him to jump and miss his attack, and blandchikenlegs wins the round. “Dammit!” Beomgyu curses, just as the door opens. “This is all your fucking fault,” He growls, glaring at Yeonjun. “The fuck? Get your ass out here, stop being a loser, and socialize.” Yeonjun slurs. Beomgyu answers him by kicking his ankle. “Ow! Stop it!” Yeonjun complains. “Fine, fine I’ll leave! Just wanted to let you know we’re blowing out Heeseung’s cake in 20 minutes,” Yeonjun grumbles. “But you’re going to die an emo virgin if you don’t get your ass out here!” He shouts, before slamming the door shut in anger.

Beomgyu grumbles, exiting his game to grovel in silence. With a sigh he leans against the wall, sighing. He can’t leave, not yet at least. If he leaves too early, there’s a chance he might run into you, and he can’t risk looking like a fool again. But on the other hand, if he leaves too late, he’ll miss out on singing happy birthday to one of his best friends and look like a jerk. (Not like that was a big deal. Heeseung forgot his birthday last year). He had to get the timing right, or else he’d be in hot water. With another tiring sigh, he pulls out his phone once more. One more game shouldn’t hurt, right? He’s in the middle of playing another round of Piggy when someone knocks on the door. It was probably Yeonjun again, here to let him know it was time for him to come out- the door opens and Beomgyu winces at the sudden change in lighting. “Yeonjun, I swear to God-”

Beomgyu immediately shuts up when he sees who’s the real perpetrator. You stare down at him, face a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Yet the only thing that crosses his mind at the moment is how beautiful you look above him. The ceiling light behind you acts like a halo. “I-I’m so sorry! I thought this was the bathroom-” You begin to fret, and you’re about to close the door when you stop halfway. “Are-Are you playing Piggy on Roblox?” You ask nervously. Your question has Beomgyu realizing the situation he’s in. You’ve caught him in his hiding spot. Not only that, you’ve caught him playing a child’s game. A part of him wishes he’d been playing League so that he could brag about his stats. Unable to deny it, he nods rigidly. You bite the inside of your gum, and you look nervous for some reason.

“Can I join you?”

And that’s how Beomgyu found himself shoulder to shoulder with you, together tucked into the dark closet, both enamored in an intense game together. “Piggy’s right there! Run, run!” He shouts at you. “I’m trying! The key’s in the next room!” You cry back. “I’ll distract her, go get the key!” He urges, and your character runs off while Beomgyu leads the demonic pig murderer on a wild goose chase. Beomgyu shrieks as he’s killed, you wail beside him having not found the key yet. “Where the fuck is the key?” You mindlessly whine. “Did you check the other room? I didn’t check that one earlier,” Beomgyu leans over your shoulder to peek and point at your screen. “What?! No, I didn’t-AH!” You shout as your character is killed. You groan and lean back helplessly onto the wall defeated.

Beomgyu rests too, closing his eyes for a moment. “Maybe I should play some Roblox games on stream.” You mumble. Beomgyu glances your way, even in the dark he can see the outline of your perfect face. “What are some Roblox games that could boost my ratings?” You ask him, turning. Your eyes connect, and it’s as if the closet grows smaller. His heart is racing, it’s so loud he can hear it, and his ears are drumming louder than the music outside. “Your ratings?” He coughs, looking away first. “Mhmm.” You hum. “My numbers haven’t been steady since March. My manager’s been on my ass about it.” He has no idea why you’re sharing this information with him, but your concern worries him nonetheless. “Play Fart Attack.” He prompts, making you giggle. He can physically feel you laugh, your shoulders bobbing up and down against his.

Unknowingly he begins to laugh as well, chuckling alongside you. “That game is so gross!” You shake your head, grinning at him. “You obviously don’t have taste. Don’t ever ask for a recommendation from me again.” He pretends to act offended. You laugh even louder, playfully hitting his knee. “No! Come on I need help,” You pretend to whine, gently shaking his arm. Never in a million years had he thought you of all people would be clinging onto his arm. Was this some kind of gift from heaven for his perfection and good deeds? Wait- The thought of gifts has Beomgyu stumbling up to stand. “Oh fuck- Heeseung’s birthday!” He’s having a hard time standing straight. His legs are sore from being crouched for however long he was in here, even more so when you joined him.

When he does stand, his legs give out on him, causing him to crash into you. His face is mere centimeters above yours, hovering over you as you lay against your back, hair disheveled from the fall. You smell of fresh lavender and vanilla. His cheeks heat up even more, you’re so close he can see the pupils of your eyes. “Oh my god I’m so sorry-“ He tries to get up, but knocks his head again at something, causing him to wince and duck- his skull bumping into yours instead. As you two groan in pain, there’s a flash of bright light. “Holy shit.” A new voice mumbles. The familiar click of a camera shutter has you and Beomgyu abruptly looking up. When did the door open?!

Your perpetrator is a drunk man he doesn’t recognize, but you seem to. “Hey!-“ You push Beomgyu off of you, looking panicked. You crawl out of the closet, chasing down the man as he makes his escape. “Y/n-“ Beomgyu tries to follow you, but soon is ambushed by an upset Heeseung. “Dude where the hell were you?” Beomgyu’s guilt grows. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time and- I’ll make it up to you I promise!” He claps his hands together as he pleads with his best friend. But Heeseung only rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” Beomgyu frowns, now trailing after Heeseung. “Bro just let me explain-“ “Beomgyu! Let’s go!” Yeonjun’s girlfriend suddenly tugs at his arm. “What?” He shakes her off, trying to reason with Heeseung.

“We gotta go! Kai just threw up- all over some poor girl.” She grimaces and his stomach drops. “Fuck. Okay.” He nods. “Heeseung I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll explain myself later!” He shouts as he hurriedly leaves. As he weaves through the crowd towards the living room, he can’t seem to find you. He wonders whatever happened to you when you had run off. His fantasy is short-lived when Yeonjun’s girlfriend grabs his arm, tugging him towards the front door. “Finally! Come on, he’s really sick.” Yeonjun looks exasperated as he struggles to hold up a very pale and passed-out Kai. “What the hell happened?!” Beomgyu asks as he helps carry Kai to the car.

“I don’t really know. He was talking to that hot girl- uh that normal-looking woman- the influencer? He got really nervous I think and drank too much, he puked all over her.” Yeonjun is glancing at his girlfriend as the two men place the youngest into his seat. Beomgyu had a feeling Yuna was no longer interested in Kai. “Also, where the hell were you?! I thought I told you to come out for the cake! Jesus Christ man you are such-“ “Oh shut up and drive already!” Beomgyu complains, crossing his arms as he sits in the backseat. Yeonjun reluctantly begins to drive, all while lecturing Beomgyu. “And another thing! Stop hiding and act like a normal person, have fun a little!”

Before Beomgyu can argue, someone else speaks up. “My stomach hurts.” Kai groans, hugging his sides. Everyone becomes extremely alert, turning to the man in panic. “I’m gonna-“ “Not in the car not in the car not in the car notinthecar notinthecar notinthecar notinthecar notinthecar!!” Yeonjun speeds down the road as Kai moans in pain. Beomgyu’s night ends with the horrific smell of rotten milk and eggs filling Yeonjun’s RAV4.

Bonus:

Kai got nervous from Yuna's flirting, causing him to drink past his limit

Y/n forgot to use the bathroom when she noticed Beomgyu playing roblox

Heeseung isn't actually upset at Beomgyu, he's just messing with him since Beomgyu always annoys him for forgetting his birthday

Y/n did in fact do Hyunjin's makeup for the party (she even streamed it)

Felix baked Heeseung brownies as a gift for his birthday

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