#do you think maybe you. are the one. who does not touch enough grass

[onefey]

v come to really hate the "touch grass" phrase. like i get the idea i really get it! but everyone literally uses it against everyone else it's kind of (by kind of i mean wholly and truly) lost meaning to me . i think it's time we either accept that nobody is gonna fucking touch grass or that our autistic asses already touch every grass we see and it's not changing anything

[itsgrimeytime]

feelin' flirty || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: Being a long-lost friend of Maggie's, you wind up at the prison, a line of dead walkers behind you. You are promptly confronted with one Rick Grimes, and it's suddenly your life's goal to flirt with him as much as you can. Rick doesn't usually respond, but what if one day he does?

TWs: innuendos, talk of sex, shameless (and I mean shameless) flirting, mention of both Beth and Hershel's deaths, gunshot wound, blood, guns, knives, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Tumblr has deleted this THREE times. I am furious, hello??? Also, someone should've been hardcore flirting with Rick, I'll say it. That's what this is based on. Do I have social anxiety? Yes, but am I still writing this? I am. Don't ask questions. ALSO, I do not know the TWD timeline at all, so I am making it up, thank you. Enjoy :))) ]]

With one last stab, you finished off the last... zombie? You didn't really call them anything, since you were alone. Maybe you should think about that a little more.

Wordlessly, you turned and stabbed another square in the head. Undead? No. Zombie? No, too cliché-

Another one.

It went on like that for a few more minutes, before you took a breath -with no answer to your question. Frowning at your knife being covered in... guts, for lack of a better word, you crouched down and wiped it on the grass.

What was that, 15? You didn't really count, but you should have. You were trying to get a new personal best actually-

"Hey!"

You froze, pocketing your knife, before spinning on your heel. The voice was fairly distant, so you weren't worried. Instead, close enough for it to matter, was a big building with high walls and barbed wire at the top of them. A prison. Huh.

"Up here!" The voice called again, and you startled.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you looked up into the watchtower, and sure enough, there was a silhouette. A guy, you think, with dark hair. That was about all you could say.

"Yeah?" You called back, curiously.

"That was cool as shit!"

You laughed out, probably for the first time in months, "Thank you, mysterious stranger!"

"Glenn!" He clarified.

Huh, you pursed your lips, before responding, "Y/N!"

"Nice to meet you!"

You laughed again, before feeling a pain in your stomach. When was the last time you'd eaten? You paused, trying to think. Three days ago (there was a box of Twinkies that hadn't expired yet in a stranded supermarket). Not great.

"Hey, Glenn?" You yelled, a little hopeful.

"Yeah?"

You pursed your lips, before deciding -taking a chance, really, "You got any food in there?"

Now, you were walking through the gate, which was a little dramatic. But, you kinda liked it. It felt like you were kind of a big deal, well, until there was a swarm of eyes on you. All different kinds.

You froze, licking across your teeth.

And then, a man ran up to your side -gasping a little. Was that Glenn? How did he-

He offered his hand to shake, and you accepted it -looking at the crowd, a little defensively.

"Are they going to kill me? Or...?"

"Shit," he turned to them, "-They just want some food, guys, c'mon!"

None of them even flinched.

"I don't bite," you joked, before frowning, "-shit. That was in bad taste-"

And then, a voice called out into the tense air.

"Y/N?"

You peeked over heads, looking, because-

Your eyes locked onto hers, and you nearly jumped in place -big smile blooming along your lips, "Holy shit, Mags?!"

You'd been friends, back in high school. You'd left junior year and tried to keep in touch. It just didn't work out. (You can't even remember now if it was her or you who stopped, at this point.)

Before she could so much as reply, you ran to her -arms wide open. She eagerly reciprocated, spinning a little with the force -you'd gotten pretty good at running at this point.

"What the fuck?" You breathed into her shoulder, and she laughed big and loud, "-What are the chances?"

With a thought, you pulled back -still holding her shoulders, "Are your Dad and Beth here?"

"Yeah," she cheered, and something in you felt relieved. Thank god, they were okay.

"And, you?" She offered, a little hesitantly -notable lack at your side.

You pressed your lips together, swallowing, and shook your head, "Been alone since the beginning."

Maggie frowned, hand coming up to rest on your arm and squeezing once.

"Only lived with my boyfriend," you explained, eager to lighten the mood, "-and he actually cheated on me, so. Wasn't the worst lost."

She laughed a little, before asking -carefully, "And your family?"

Something in your chest stung, you wordlessly shook your head. (Visions of unhinged jaws and blood filling it.)

She frowned, whispering her apologies before hugging you again. You leaned into it that time.

And then, you jumped back, excited, "You have to bring me to your family, Mags, it's been so long-"

"Ya 'ave to talk to Rick first," a voice grumbled out behind you.

You spun on your heel, facing a man. Tall, brunette, dark eyes, arms crossed in front of him (strong, you noted), but you could tell in his stance. He was a layer of stone walls, and you did not want to mine.

And then, your eyes smoothed across his back. Is that a fucking crossbow? Sick.

"Whose Rick?" You asked instead, Maggie still holding your arm.

"Whose askin'?"

That, was a good voice. Was your first thought as you turned back around, and your eyes landed on a figure.

Your voice got stuck in your throat.

He was tall, stood like he owned the place (and based on the recommendation, maybe he did), all broad shoulders and strong gaze. Speaking of gaze, he had probably the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. And his hair was brown and curly, a few hung forward on his face. His jaw was unspeakable, and his button-up shirt had a few extra buttons undone to account for the heat. Holy shit.

Maggie elbowed you, and you blinked.

"Uh, me," you answered, clearing your throat -motioning to Glenn, "-he said you had some food and I'm... hungry."

Maggie promptly stomped on your toe. You pressed your lips together trying not to laugh, carefully looking over his face to see if he'd picked up on it at all. Nothing. A shame, really.

Oh well, maybe next time.

"Look, Rick," she interrupted your thoughts, "-I know 'em, really well. Y/N is a good person."

Rick's eyes dipped to you, looking you over. Oh, the words were right there on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy-

You're trying to survive, Y/N, your mind pressed, focus.

You bit at your lip, but before you could speak for yourself, Glenn did.

"I saw 'em take on a swarm outside," he added, eyes darting to Maggie (Huh.), "-without breaking a sweat."

There are other things I can do without breaking a sweat, your brain immediately remarked, this really was too easy.

Rick seemed to think about it a second, before turning to you, "Ya got a gun?"

I'd like to be loaded with-

"No," you cleared your throat, pulling out your knife (it was one of those multicolored ones, it's why you liked it clean), "-just this."

He hummed, tilting his head with a mouth shrug, "'At's impressive."

I bet your-

You pinched your arm, swallowing, "So, what? Am I in or not?"

Rick's eyes flicked up and down you again (so easy), before he decided, "Ya can stay."

That brings you to now, sitting with Maggie outside with a can of baked beans and a spoon in your hands.

You currently had quite the view of Rick working on the farm, sweat dripping down his brow, strained arms. You'd never thought about farming in that way, but now you were.

"Is his full name Richard?" You asked, curiously.

Maggie turned to you, watching the trail of your eyes to see what you were looking at. She rolled her eyes, "I don't know."

You put a spoonful into your mouth, humming around it, "There's a reason they call them 'Dick', you know."

"Oh my god," she shoved into you -making you laugh a little. You stared down into your can.

"I'm just saying," you stressed, "-he's hot enough for it."

Maggie paused a second, before deciding to say, "His wife died."

"Shit," your smile fell.

"Died in childbirth," she continued, something distant in her eyes -you wondered what exactly it was.

"How long ago?" You asked gently, looking at him in a new light -sympathizing.

"Few months," she answered, a little shortly. You pursed your lips, debating whether to say anything. Or if you even should.

Maggie clarified, herself, "I delivered the baby. Judith, her name is Judith."

"Fuck, Mags," you fully turned to her, putting the can by your feet, "-I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath in and out, and you wrapped an arm around her shoulders pushing her into your side, "Thanks."

"No problem," you hummed, picking your can back up and letting your eyes drift to Rick again, adding, "-I'm great with babies, you know."

"You're ridiculous," she laughed, taking the bite you offered her.

"What?" You asked, "-Staring isn't bad. He's practically a piece of art, I'm just..."

He turned to the two of you then, blue eyes flickering along your faces -you did not move your gaze at all.

Instead, you gently waved, finishing, "-admiring him."

Rick furrowed his eyebrows for a second, waving back, and then, shaking his head smiling. Count that as a win.

You gnawed at your lip a second, "Do you think he picked up on my 'hungry' thing? I was looking at him and I-"

Maggie laughed, "He definitely did. Everyone did, Y/N, you're shameless."

"It's the apocalypse," you urged, "-who gives a fuck about shame anymore? Rick is hot, and as long as he lets me, I will flirt with him. The more you resist, the more I commit. You remember James in first period?"

She hummed, "I do."

"I chased him for half a year," you continued, swirling the spoon around the can, "-and it worked, didn't it? Guys hardly get properly flattered," your eyes dipped back to him, tone going low, "-I don't mind taking on that duty for the population."

Maggie laughed again, as you just kept your eyes on him. He had dirt on his hands now, wiping at his brow, and just a few curls hung forward on his forehead. God, how did you find him in the apocalypse?

"How valiant," she deadpanned, "-You're a real hero."

"Look, just because you have a type, Glenn, and you bagged him-"

"How did you-"

"Please," you teased, "-he practically ate you earlier with his eyes. Back to my point, I, at least, get to look."

She turned to you, "Ya don't want to date him?"

"Who said that, Mags?" You smirked, turning to her with a smile with eyes that spoke for themselves.

"You know he has kids, right?" She questioned, looking at you.

"So?" you waved the spoon around in your hand, "-Single dads? Hot. Kids? Cute. Where's the loss?"

Maggie looked at you a moment, before shaking her head, "You are clinically insane."

"Maybe," you offered, still watching him, "-but the world's fucked up too. So, at least, I'm not alone."

She laughed really hard at that one, and you felt eyes all over switch to you. Blue ones too. People didn't really seem to laugh around here, so you decided that was your mission too, get people to laugh more. Maybe they could go hand-in-hand.

Time to get to work.

Daryl was sitting across from you, you'd been bugging him for the past few weeks and he'd finally relented. It wasn't easy, but you were nothing if not persistent (hence the Rick situation). Or maybe stubborn. Both? Whatever.

"Daryl, listen," you pointed out, "-you have to take time to load up the bow."

"'At don't mean nothin'," he countered.

"It does," you stressed, explaining, "-in the amount of time it takes you to put in a new arrow, I would have killed at least two."

Daryl rolled his eyes, "It doesn't take 'at long."

"Who said it takes me long to kill two walkers?"

Rick walked by then, and Daryl stopped him.

"Rick, please, take 'em away from me," he spoke out, gruff, but something in you could tell that he wasn't being serious. The guy wasn't half the mystery you expected him to be.

Rick laughed a little at the plea, eyes on you, "What are ya doin' to him?"

"It's not that bad," you laughed, explaining, "-I was just talking about if we were pit against each other to kill the most walkers in a minute. And who would win."

"An' ya want me to help decide?"

"Daryl does," you clarified, "-I am fully confident in my abilities."

Rick laughed a little (another win), "Well, I kno' Daryl's skills, so tell me yours, so it's even."

You bit at your lip, debating. God, it would be so easy. All you had to do was-

"Well," you smiled, playfully, "-I'm told I'm very good with my hands."

He blinked, and it was silent a moment before you heard a snort beside you. You immediately flung to look at him, you had just made Daryl laugh-

"No way," you stressed out, throwing yourself to your feet -pointing at him, "-you just laughed at me."

Daryl pressed his lips together into a thin line, sniffing once, "No, I didn't."

You spun to Rick, and he was already looking at you, you didn't think about it too much.

"Rick," you begged, "-c'mon. I know you and him are like... buddies, but I-"

"Buddies?" He quirked a brow, smiling. Something stirred in your stomach.

"Look, I don't fucking know," you rolled your eyes, "-just agree with me."

He bit down a smile at you, before turning to Daryl, "Ya did laugh at 'em."

"Ha," you cheered, "-I made Daryl Dixon laugh. And, I would win against you."

"He didn't say 'at," Daryl instantly defended.

"Didn't have to, Dixon," you mocked, playfully, "-it's about time management."

"Time management?" Rick questioned curiously.

"Okay, think of this, Rick," you explained, leveling him with your full focus (god he was handsome), "-when you fight with a bow, or a gun for that matter, you have to reload."

He grinned a little at you.

"Follow me, follow me," you hummed, pulling out your knife, "-when you have a physical sort of attack method, like a knife, you don't have that same time issue."

"Ya kinda do though," he interjected.

You paused, looking at him -thoughtfully, "How so?"

"Body's gotta build up energy again," he reasoned (with too much thought for this dumb conversation, smart too? god has favorites), "-Stamina is key to attackin'."

You rolled your lip in between your teeth, he had to be doing this on purpose at this point. Seriously.

"Trust me, sheriff," you spoke -a teeny bit teasing but otherwise very genuine, "-there is no problem with my stamina."

Rick bit back a laugh, turning his head to the side and smiling. You thought you saw a little red on the tips of his ears. Cute. You were unraveling the layers of one Rick Grimes, that was progress.

Daryl didn't even try to hide it that time, letting a gruff chuckle leave his lips, "'M glad I'm not your focus for 'at."

You patted his shoulder, standing up, "It'll be devastating one day, Robin Hood. Don't come crying to me when it is."

"Did ya just call me Robin Hood?"

Rick laughed at that one, head tilting up to the sky. You smiled wide.

"Look at that," you hummed, proud, "-a two for one. Which-"

They both looked at you, but you stuck to your guns. And you smirked a little.

"-honestly, I would not mind," you added -thoughtfully, "-Think about it, and get back to me."

You walked backward a few steps, watching as Rick smiled at you before turning back to fix his gaze on Daryl. Smiling at the ground, you spun on your heel, and went off to find someone else to pester.

You felt a pair of eyes follow you though, and you maybe grinned a little brighter.

Now, you were wandering off on your own. On your own run, you liked to do that sometimes. Maggie nearly had a heart attack because of it, but what damage you did get was usually minor. Except for once, but that wasn't your fault. Well it was, you smashed a window with your fist to see if you could do it. And you could, which was impressive.

Now, you were strolling through an old novelty store -little knick-knacks. Finding some figurines, you grabbed a superhero one and stashed it away. Your eyes caught on a DVD player, the kind for both music and movies, and you picked it up -turning it over in your hands. Battery powered.

On a mission to find both DVDs and some batteries, you roamed through some aisles -particularly a mug one.

Peeking through at some of them, you paused. Taking your pack off and slipping the DVD player into it (along with the few good DVDs you found, no batteries though) on top of some canned food you'd found, you zipped it up. And with a breath, grabbed a mug.

Smiling big, you made your way out of the store.

When you got back to the prison, Maggie was waiting for you -tapping her feet, anxiously. She was a little like a mother, you weren't sure how you felt about it. But you loved her so, you dealt with it.

"Hey Mags," you cheered, mug handle twisted between your fingers.

She instantly relaxed, eyes scanning you over before dropping to the mug. She frowned.

"Please, tell me-"

"I got some food," you sighed, "-I'm not entirely useless."

She pursed her lips, "And the mug?"

You grinned, holding it up for her to see -tapping your fingers along both sides. Her eyes skimmed over it before she frowned (biting back a smile, you could tell).

"Seriously?" She asked.

"What?" You responded, groaning, "-I can't get gifts?"

She shoved into your side, and before you could take too many steps, you were met with your target -leaning against the fence, few steps from Maggie. Was he waiting for you too?

"Rick," you dropping your hands, particularly to avoid him from reading the text, "-what are you doing here?"

"Ya do 'at a lot?" He asked, a little pointedly. You thought you recognized something a little like worry in it, "-Go off on your own?"

Huh.

"Yeah," you laughed a little, "-you haven't noticed? I've been getting like... half the food we have."

Rick hummed (a little in appreciation) before his eyes dropped to your hands, "And what's 'at?"

"A gift," you extended it to him, unflinchingly.

He pulled himself from his spot on the wall, walking forward and accepting it. His fingers (great fingers, really. Was that weird to say?) wrapping around it, you noticed for a second that your fingers brushed -your breath halted a little in place.

"A mug?" He asked looking at you for a second, eyebrows furrowed.

You took your hand, and spun it around in his hands -brushing his skin against yours, "The other side."

He smiled a little, laughing.

Right there on a rather plain mug, were the words '#1 HOT DAD'.

He bit back a smile, eyes peeking up at you again, "Ya really ain't gonna let 'is go, are ya?"

"Nope," you popped the 'p', before clarifying, "-unless you want me to."

Rick licked a line against his teeth, grinning a little with something in his eye, "Who said 'at?"

"Noted," you smiled back, something fluttering in your chest, "-now, where's Carl? I got him something good."

"Ya got him somethin' too?"

He was looking at you a little curiously, like he was seeing new layers of you. You kind of wanted to squirm a little at his gaze. You were not used to people figuring you out.

You sighed, quickly turning your pack to the front and unzipping it. With a breath, you dug around and pulled out the figurine -Rick's eyes caught on it immediately. A small smile creeping along his mouth.

"He told me once he liked comics," you clarified, clearing your throat, "-figured he would like this. You... You think he will?"

"He'll love it," he answered, something new in his eyes, "-C'mon, I'll take ya to him."

On the way there, he seemed to pause a moment, something on his mind. You patiently waited for him to say it.

"'Saw somethin' else in 'ere," he mindlessly remarked, as the mug swung between his fingers "-What is it?"

"Oh," you pulled your pack foward again, excited, extending the figurine to him for safekeeping (he took it with a smile), "-a DVD player."

You held it in your hands, showing to him.

"Found some DVDs, good ones," you continued, before putting it back in your bag, and accepting the figurine back (your fingers brushed again), "-no batteries though."

Rick hummed, pursing his lips like he was thinking about something. He didn't say a word though.

You didn't have much time to think about it, because a few days after that, the prison fell. You'd escaped with Rick and Carl, but you weren't exactly yourself. Not after everything.

There was Judith, and Maggie, and... and Beth and Hershel. Every day felt like there was bile turning in your stomach; every time you closed your eyes, you saw someone... someone dead.

You were lying against the grass, looking up at the stars -it was still so pretty. Despite it all, the sky was still the same. Bright and twinkly. It was when everyone was on the road, wandering for a place to go. You just couldn't sleep, so you took it upon yourself to just look at the sky. You thought the clouds might be pretty, but the night was a little breathtaking.

"Ya awake?"

You didn't say a word.

"C'mon, Y/N, I know ya are."

"Yeah, I am," you sighed, saying shortly, "-Can't sleep."

There was an echo of footsteps, and then you felt body heat beside you. There was a beat.

"Ya ain't gonna say anythin'?" Rick hummed, turning his head to face you.

You matched his eyes (he's probably more handsome now, honestly), "About what?"

"Me, ya know," he motioned, to your side, "-layin' with ya."

You laughed at him a little, before teasing, "Awe, you miss it, don't you, sheriff?"

"Not a sheriff anymore," he hummed, something a little heavy in his voice.

"Eh," you shrugged, looking back to the stars, "-you still are in my mind."

Rick smiled at you, wordlessly.

Before you added, plainly, "Mostly because I love a man in uniform."

He laughed then, big and bright, and you felt something warm in your chest that you knew but hadn't felt in a while.

You wanted to be genuine, really genuine.

"You are a good man, Rick," you turned to look at him, and he looked straight back, "-We've all done shit we never should've, and maybe it's fucked us up a little bit, moved our path in the wrong direction once or twice, but-"

You looked back up to the sky, still feeling his eyes on you. It was kind of like a dream, like the apocalypse wasn't real for a second, just you and Rick. And maybe you wanted that a lot more than you knew.

"-you've got a big heart, Rick," you finished, soundly, "-And even if sometimes you lose sight of what you're doing, or maybe who you are, that... that doesn't change."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment, words echoing out into the night air. You couldn't find it in yourself to regret them, though. You never really regret what you said these days, there was no reason too.

You really only regret what you didn't say. Maybe to people who aren't around anymore. Your heart sunk a little in your chest, but it felt a little lighter -just a smidgen. (Maybe because of who you were with.)

"I got somethin' for ya," Rick suddenly spoke, sitting up (you followed suit).

You furrowed your eyebrows, "You got me something? When?"

Mindlessly, he replied, "On the last run."

You pursed your lips but waited patiently. He moved over to his pack, unzipping one of his pockets and pulling something out -you couldn't quite see. Trying to peek you moved over a little, but nothing.

With a breath, he stood back up and waltzed over to you (somehow he made walking hot, they needed to research that), extending it forward right into your face.

You blinked, gently taking it into your hands and looking at it closely. It was dark so you couldn't really-

Batteries. He handed you a pack of AA batteries.

"No way," you laughed out, "-you remembered that?"

"I remember a lot of what ya say," he offered casually, and you felt something shoot down your spine. And with a breath, he sat right beside you, so close your knees bumped a little.

Pulling your bag over to you, you dug around in it. You'd kept the DVD player and DVDs, not really with the hope of finding batteries. But, to feel a little human, remember life before.

You'd taken to putting stickers on it when you saw any, so the top of it was covered in an assortment. You ran your fingers over it a second, taking it in, before flipping it over. Popping open the little tab, you let out a breath of relief when it was AAs.

Rick laughed.

"I was going to be so pissed if it wasn't," you spoke, "-you have no idea."

He just looked at you then, in a way you'd seen before but never really thought about. You turned back to your bag, shuffling around to find your stash.

"You want music or a movie?"

"Movie's fine," he hummed, and you still felt his eyes trained solely on you. You tried to shake it off.

"Let's see," you pulled out a few of the movies you had, showing them to Rick, "-I've got... a kid's animated movie, or... a... cheesy romcom!"

Rick stared at you, instead of the movies, before flickering to them.

Rambling, you continued, "I also picked up some horror stuff, but I... I really think that was a bad move on my part."

He laughed again, just looking at you in a way you didn't really know how to label. Or react to. You were kind of a little overwhelmed at the fact that he'd even gotten you the batteries, and then the way he was looking at you-

"Think romcom sounds good," he interrupted your thoughts, scanning over you.

"Alright," you acknowledged, putting the other ones up, and scooting back next to him -not enough to touch. It was a little awkward and you weren't sure how you were going to-

"I don't bite ya know," he quipped, laughing a little.

You turned to him, grinning, "Well maybe I do."

Rick laughed again for a moment, just looking at you. And then he extended out an arm, welcoming you into his side.

You paused a moment, before carefully guiding yourself to slot into him; the back of your head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around the back of your shoulders. You brought your knees up, to carefully balance the DVD player (shaped like a little laptop really). A tiny little screen for the two of you to see on. Logistically, that's why you were so close but a part of you thought a little otherwise.

"I don't," you hummed.

"What?"

"I don't bite."

He laughed a little, "Good."

"Unless you want me to-"

And the laughter that filled the night was just between you and him. And maybe in the morning, you were fast asleep on his shoulder and maybe he looked at you a little like you were the greatest thing he'd ever seen and maybe he shushed all the others just to have the moment last even a second longer.

You'd never really know.

Now, you were in Alexandria. You'd gotten Maggie back, you'd gotten Judith back. You were on a new high, and that meant two things. More pestering, and two, flirting with Rick.

You were walking through Alexandria with Maggie, just keeping her on her feet really. She wasn't super pregnant yet, and it was good to be healthy.

"I cannot believe you're pregnant," you mindlessly remarked, holding Judith close to your side.

"I have been," she retorted, "-for a while. Think ya have had time to digest it."

"But, it's like physical proof that you fucked," you commented, "-unprotected, by the way. I know you missed that sex-ed day, but seriously-"

"Carl's proof that Rick fucked," Maggie defended, eyes smoothing over him with a few of his friends.

"Well," you pursed your lips, "-I know that Rick fucked. Just on principle, he's-"

She motioned for you to zip it, "Don't start. I know you are doin' good, which is great. But it also means ya become a lil' unbearable."

"Me? Unbearable?" You turned to Judith, cooing a little, "-Can you believe the nerve of her, Jude?"

Judith smiled at you with her big brown eyes and toothless little mouth. You pinched her cheek, instinctively, "So cute."

"I still can't believe that you're in love with Ri-"

"I told you that in confidence," you interrupted, pointed.

Maggie stuck out her tongue at you and Judith laughed a little at it. Funny faces, right. You could physically see the pregnancy hormones on her face as she cooed at Judith.

You would've said something, but you had just done it yourself.

"Where's your keeper anyway?" You hummed like you'd been stuck with her (you actively searched her out).

"'E's not my keeper," she responded, sternly (mom voice, already?), "-and he's out on run, gettin' supplies."

"If he's not your keeper, how'd you know who I was talking about?"

"You are so-"

Before she could finish such a kind sentence, the two of you were interrupted. A presence waltzing up to your side.

You turned to look who, and-

Your heart lept into your throat. It was Rick, now clean-shaven, and although, you had loved the beard (don't even get you started), his jaw was on full display. Blue, blue eyes. And dipping to his clothes, he was in a damn uniform.

"Look at you, Rick," you complimented, smiling.

"'Heard ya liked a man in uniform," he smiled (a new type of way), and winked. And before you could say a word, he walked forward -past you.

You stuttered to a stop, Maggie right beside you. Blinking you turned to her, and she looked right back at you. And then you both turned to look at Rick, still walking the same way he was.

Turning back forward, you opened your mouth, "Sorry, did that just happen?"

Maggie hummed, pulling you with her, "It did."

"How did I never think of that?"

"Think of what?" She offered, as you smoothed back into a step with her.

You answered, eyebrows furrowing, "That he might flirt back."

She shrugged, "If it helps, I never thought he would."

"I am not against shoving a pregnant woman," you hissed back, with no bite. You never really had any. And you both broke into laughter, as you roamed through Alexandria.

Now, Daryl was leaning against a house as you stood beside him -pestering as always.

"No, listen," you turned to him, attentively, "-it's called fuck, marry, kill-"

"I ain't playing it with ya."

"C'mon, Daryl, it's fun, look-" you flagged down Glenn (who was carrying a box, of what, who knows?), "-Glenn, fuck, marry, kill. Michonne, Carol, and Daryl."

"Easy," he laughed, "-fuck Michonne, marry Carol, and sorry, dude, but kill Daryl."

"See?" You motioned to Glenn, as he walked forward.

"Don't ya 'ave a wife?" Daryl remarked, as Glenn moved along.

"Oh please," you shook your hand dismissively, "-it's all just fun. Just hypothetical scenarios."

"Okay, now," you started over, "-fuck, marry, kill. Deanna-"

"Kill," he answered -unflinchingly.

"See!" you cheered, "-you're getting the hang of it-"

"What are the two of ya doin'?"

You turned to see the one and only Rick Grimes, a little more worn today, which you kind of preferred, still had those bandaids on (how did he make that look hot?), and more casually dressed. In the white t-shirt, we trust.

"I'm teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill," you answered, eyes solid on him, "-obviously."

Before he could respond, Daryl chimed up, something mischievous in his eyes. You squinted at him, trying to figure it out. And then he opened his mouth.

"I got one," he spoke, a smile teasing on his lips (looking at Rick, directly), "-Y/N, Glenn, and Rosita."

You stared at the eye contact for a moment (everything was so suspicious), before asking, "What am I supposed to do with myself?"

Daryl shrugged, you bit your lip a second.

"I guess I could kill myself, big waste, but-" you paused, "-ooh, wait, I could, like, clone situation fuck myself-"

"Now, 'at would be a sight to see," a low southern drawl interrupted your words, and your voice faltered to a stop.

You turned to him, squinting at him for a second -trying to understand. All he did was wink at you again, and you hated that it made your knees a little wobbly. Especially when he was holding onto the column of the porch, and slightly leaning toward you-

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," you cleared your throat, "-I would marry Glenn, fuck Rosita, and, tragically, kill myself."

Daryl nodded his head, before motioning to Rick, "What 'bout ya?"

"Am I playin'?" He questioned, finger pointing to himself and eyes dashing to you.

"Might as well," you shrugged, "-you're already over here."

He pursed his lips a second like he was thinking, eyes particularly avoiding you, "An' I can't choose one person for two of 'em?"

You swallowed, oh, he was playing dirty.

"Nope," Daryl answered.

And then, he turned into something much softer, something more familiar, "Then, marry Y/N, fuck Rosita, and kill Glenn."

Marry?

Your heart lept into your throat, and your fingers started fidgeting with your shirt -instinctively. How the hell was he winning? I started this game-

"Thought so," Daryl responded.

And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carol. Her eyes matched yours a second, and you tried to convey how desperate you were to get away from this very scene. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then she spoke.

"Hey, Y/N! Can you come help me with the food?"

"Of course, Carol," you called back, smiling at the two of them, "-sorry, duty calls."

Rick just grinned at you then, like he knew exactly what you were doing. And you were 100% sure he did. Stupid handsome men with stupidly beautiful blue eyes. Ignoring the fact that you physically brushed against him to get off the porch, you frantically caught up to Carol.

You were in the pantry now, gathering ingredients, Carol directing you -naming them as she found them.

"So," she looked at you, "-are you gonna tell me what that was about?"

You pursed your lips, before answering, "Rick's flirting back with me."

Carol raised her eyebrows at you, "Huh."

"And I was teaching Daryl how to play fuck, marry, kill, and he-" you rapted your fingernails along one of the cans, "-and he said he'd marry me. But all... genuine and shit."

"And that's bad?"

"No, no," you shook your head, putting the can into a basket, "-It's not bad. Just... I don't know if he means it."

"You just said that he said it genuinely," Carol pointed out, grabbing another can.

"Well yeah, but-" you scrambled a moment, "-all that time ago, I was flirting genuinely. I mean even though it was playful, it was still genuine."

"And," she connected the dots, "-you're not sure if he's genuine?"

"Yeah," you skimmed along the shelves, gathering the last can she needed.

"Well," she took it from your hand, blue eyes on you softly, "-if it's worth anything, I think he's genuine. And maybe this is his way of showing how he feels about you."

You hummed, wordlessly.

"He's let you flirt with him this long," she continued, bringing a hand up to your shoulder, "-that has to mean something, doesn’t it?"

She had a point.

"Now," she adjusted the basket, "-are you actually going to help me with the food? Or was it just an excuse to run away from Rick?"

You laughed, "I'll help, I'll help. I'm not a total dick. Speaking of-"

She turned to you.

"Do you know if Rick's full name is Richard?"

It was a few weeks later, and they were filled with frustratingly blue winks. And that was one thing, but now you were being stupid. You were stupid.

You'd thought Oh, it'll be just like old times, I'll go out on a run. It'll be so nice-

And now you were walking with a gunshot would, quickly bandaged by a rip of your t-shirt and whatever you had around you. Which in whatever the hell store it was, was not a lot. All you'd managed to find was alcohol so you at least soaked the shirt.

You'd blearily walked all the way home, eyes foggy, and praying that a walker wouldn't come near you. And now you saw it, Alexandria.

"Gabriel," you called, breathlessly, "-Gabriel, please let me in."

You heard him say something but you were delirious. Maybe something with your name? Head fuzzy and eyes bleary, you were coming down from the high of getting somewhere safe. As you waltzed into Alexandria (pain in the abdomen so hot it almost felt numbing), there was a swarm of people around you immediately. Felt like you were back in the prison, when Maggie would be waiting and you think she was now.

"Hey, hey," she chanted, grabbing your face (and you could see her now), "-look at me, Y/N, tell me what the hell happened."

"Some guy, the bitch," you muttered out, a little slurred you think, "-just shot me, because he wanted the last of the damn Campbell soup, who shoots someone for Campbell soup?"

Her eyes dropped to your body, you mindlessly noted that it was sticky. Your eyes dropped too, and saw all the red -so much red.

"I think I lost a lot of blood, Mags."

"Somebody go get Rick, and the doctor, now," she shouted (loud, loud), before turning back to you, "-How the hell did you get here?"

"I walked," you answered simply.

"You walked?" She responded, hands on your shoulders, "-How did you-"

You were safe now, and everything in your body just gave out.

"Adrenaline is a hell of a drug," you hummed, laughing a little, before falling to the ground.

Your head stung from the ground, as Maggie tried to get down by your side -all pregnant belly.

"'S okay, Mags, don't-" you mumbled "-don't hurt yourself."

She frowned, and you thought she might have tears in her eyes, "I have to stay with you, Y/N, whose going to keep you awake-"

"Glenn," you called, and you saw him saunter up to your side, a little slurred, "-take care of 'er, help her sit. Don't worry, Mags, don't worry-"

You heard a slap of footsteps then, quick and brisk, and before you could wonder who, blue eyes and rough hands were guiding your face. He was starting to grow his stubble back, you mindlessly noted.

"Rick," you smiled a little fuzzily, reaching up and patting his face, "-See Mags, Rick'll take care of me."

"Hey, hey," he brought your focus to him, "-keep lookin' at me, okay?"

"Well," you slurred a little, "-'at's not very hard, sheriff."

He turned to the crowd then, voice low and gruff, "What the hell happened?"

You heard Maggie respond then, through sobs, "'Ey said that some guy shot 'em, over a... over some food."

"Didn't even ask if he could have 'em, first. Who does that-"

"Daryl," he motioned -tone low, and he immediately nodded. You watched him leave your eyesight.

Rick instead, brought your face back to him, as you recognized the doctor to be by your side, scrambling with some white stuff.

"Hey, hey, baby," he spoke, low in a whisper, "-I'm 'ere, focus on me. Look at me."

You smiled again, delirious, "You called me baby, that feels nice. Everythin' else burns-"

"I kno', I kno'," he soothed, you felt pressure on your abdomen (hissing in pain, as your eyes got more blurry), "-ya did a good job gettin' back 'ere. To where you're safe. Ya did a good job."

"Just kept walking," you slurred, "-couldn't stop. Wasn't gonna die to some asshole."

Rick laughed then a little, and you felt something a little different than pain. Your hands naturally came to his face, mindlessly rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones. He's always been so handsome, only gets better with time.

You noticed he leaned into it a little, careful not to hurt you. Yeah, you realized, he was genuine.

God, what if you had missed out on this, with Rick? All because of some stupid can of soup-

"Rick," you started, and he looked at you a little like you held the world, you were the world maybe, "-I think I'm gonna die."

"You're not, no-" he held his hand over yours (it was so warm. Why had you never held his hand?), "-You're not gonna die, baby. You're gonna be fine."

"I'm bleeding," you breathed out, scanning over him, "-Been bleeding the whole time. You're not supposed to bleed that much, Rick."

"Ya ain't gonna die," he repeated, hands gathering your face, "-Look at me, ya ain't dyin'."

Concern clear on his face, you felt the urge to soothe, soothe, soothe-

You looked at him, eyes scanning over his face. He was handsome, yeah, but he was caring, smart, and so, so kind. You wanted to tell him that, see what he'd say. What he'd do.

"'Said that you were a good man, 'at you have a big heart," you hummed, eyes languidly blinking, "-still mean it. Don't you forget it."

He looked at you for a second, eyes flicking all over your face, before looking to the doctor. She must've said something (your ears felt stuffy) because then Rick was picking you up. He was everywhere, smell, sight. All you could feel was Rick, body heat thrumming and blooming into your side.

"Always knew you were strong," you mindlessly remarked.

You felt Rick laugh in his chest, and your eyelids were so heavy then. You slowly began blinking, your brain slowing down. Maybe you could close your eyes just for a little bit.

"Got so much to say to ya."

And then, it all faded to black.

This blanket is scratchy as hell, you mindlessly remarked. It was almost like a thin sheet, barely coating you, and you think if you moved your arms, it would make that noise that shitty bedsheets did. Why were hospital beds so bad? Shouldn't they be comfortable?

And then your nose was hit with the heavy sterilized air. You scrunched your nose up on instinct, it made your throat burn-

"Y/N? Darlin'?"

You slowly blinked your eyes open, heavy and languid; they always had those florescent lights too. How was that helpful?

"'S too fucking bright in here."

You heard him laugh a little, maybe in relief mostly, and you blearily blinked to get a look at him.

"'D turn it down for ya if I could."

You laughed a little and squinted your eyes open, laying gently on him. He looked a little worse for wear, his hair messy and shirt a little crooked. You wanted to fix his curls back in place, and your hand moved before you could stop it.

Gently, you threaded his hair back. He was a breath away from where you laid, so it wasn't too far of a reach.

Rick looked at you so softly, that the words cut off your from your lips. And with a breath, he pulled your hand down from his hair, sliding it against his cheek. Before you could say a word about it, he turned his head and gently kissed your palm.

You bit at your lip, eyes flickering over him, "How long have you been here?"

"Since the doc' allowed me to be," he answered, fidgeting with your hand -not really wanting to let go, you guessed.

"And Mags?" You asked, concern flickering through your eyes, "-Are she and the baby okay?"

"Yeah," he looked at you, a little in disbelief, "-they're alright. She was stressed, yeah, but Glenn kept 'er calm."

"And," your eyes darted to your abdomen, where your wound now hid, "-the wound?"

"Good," he replied, eyes swimming over you like he couldn't quite believe you were okay, "-Doc' says ya just need to rest, not irritate the stitches. Which I kno' will be hard for ya."

You sighed, leaning your head back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling, "I am going to be so bored."

Rick chuckled a little, before falling suspiciously quiet. You turned to him, just to see him looking down and fidgeting with your hand -a little like he was working on saying something. You simply waited.

"'Ve been looking for those batteries since ya said ya wanted 'em," he spoke, a little quietly.

You froze, "Since the prison?"

"Yeah," he offered, "-apparently 'ey're a hot commodity."

"Why?" You questioned, looking at him curiously, "-Why all that work for some batteries?"

"Because," he hummed simply, eyes matching yours now, "-ya wanted 'em."

You pushed your lips into a thin line, the glimmer of hope sparking in your chest. Not saying a word, you just stared at him for a second; not unlike in the early days, you were just admiring him for a lot more than his (still unbelievably handsome) face.

"Y/N, I-" he started, eyes dipping back down to your hands. He seemed to pause a moment, debating.

And then he looked up at you, eyes set in his path -unflinchingly. In a sort of understanding, like everything made sense to him now. The silence was heavy until he leaned forward and brushed his hand along your cheek -carefully. It made you feel precious, and your eyes maybe got a little cloudy because of it.

"I'm in love with ya," he let out a breath, tone heavy and genuine, "-an... and the way ya blatantly hit on me but in the damn most genuine type of way."

You laughed a little and leaned gently into his palm. He looked at you in a way you couldn't label then, or maybe you could (love), and rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone.

"I didn't know how to react to it, at first," he hummed, something settled in his eyes, "-the attention ya gave me. 'S somethin' I've never dealt with before."

"Really?" You let slip past your lips, and his grin grew wide as he let his head fall and shook it, smiling at the ground.

"Even now," he laughed a little, turning his gaze up again, "-ya always said thin's like it was so easy to do. Like ya were tellin' me 'at the sun was hot."

"You did give me some pretty good set ups," you clarified, smiling at him.

"'Never meant to," he added, grinning a little in wonder, "-I couldn't think straight when ya said 'em, so I'm surprised I even did."

You hummed, eyes twinkling at him and he looked at you just a little more like he was in love. It made a spark shoot down to your toes, warmth flooding your chest.

"If it's worth anything," you spoke, a little embarrassed, "-my brain stops working when you do the fond thing."

"The fond thing?"

"It's just," you sighed, trying to articulate, "-It's a way that you look at me, or... or smile at me. When you do the soft stuff."

"What exactly is-" he hummed, gently, holding your attention like your words really mattered, "-'the soft stuff'?"

"Uh," you blew a raspberry with your lips, "-like giving me the batteries, and... and that whole conversation actually."

"Oh," he laughed a little, blue eyes twinkling, "-like I was in love with ya."

"What? No, you weren't... not that early-"

And then you looked at him.

"Shit," you marveled, "-really?"

"Like I said," he smiled at you, a little like you were cute, "-I looked for those batteries for months. For ya. An'-"

His face got a little more serious.

"-I really missed ya. 'At was probably when I first realized it."

You rolled your lip inbetween your teeth, "Yeah?"

"Ya used to make everybody laugh, and were always smilin'-" he explained, "-it wasn't even just the flirtin', it was just... I knew ya were hurtin', an' I couldn't help. Or I... I didn't know what to do to help."

You just stared.

"An' I missed ya so desperately, I just-" he let out a breath, "-It all clicked into place, and I went on 'at run, hopin' to god there were batteries-"

You laughed a little weepily, leaning into his hand.

"-because I just wanted to make ya feel better. Bring ya back to me."

"How the hell did you even find them?" You questioned, wiping at your eyes, "-It couldn't have been that lucky."

"'Wasn't," he replied simply, "-I was only supposed to do a few stores, I did the whole strip."

"God, really?" You smiled, "-For batteries?"

"No," he hummed, simply, "-for ya."

You fell quiet.

"I would do anythin' for ya," he added, voice a little breathless, "-anythin'."

"Anything?"

Rick laughed a little, grin bright, "Ya need to rest, baby."

"That's not a no," you chimed, grinning.

He looked at you a certain type of way then, "'S definitely not a no."

You felt your heart pound in your chest for a moment. That was something to look forward to. Something stirred in your stomach.

"What?" He asked, teasing, "-Ya all bark and no bite, hmm?"

"If I wasn't bedridden," you spoke flatly, "-I would kick your ass."

"Ya would," he agreed.

And you laughed, eyes smoothing over his face. Before noticing something you hadn't quite said yet.

Words fell out of your lips, "Even though you probably already know, because I've chasing you all this time-"

He smiled at you.

"-I love you too," you finished, "-if it wasn't obvious."

"'Was kinda obvious," he leveled -teasing, but something was sparkling so bright in his eyes that you didn't really mind.

"Yeah, yeah," you moved your hand dismissively, "-don't start, sheriff."

You paused for a moment, eyes dancing along the room, "Do I get to go home today?"

"No," he spoke, with a certainty that shook through your bones (this man had literally everything), "-'Need to be taken care of, so ya are stayin' wit' me until you're healed."

You blinked at him, he was doing the fond thing again. Your mind relaxed to a low hum.

"Maybe after too," he added, tone softer but not any less certain, "-if ya want."

You stared at him, wordless.

Rick blinked, looking at you, before grinning, "'At the fond thing?"

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, embarrassed, "-I don't... It's been a long time since I've been cared for. At all. And you're a very handsome man offering to-"

"Not offerin'," he clarified, eyes set on yours, "-just doin'. 'Specially now, 'cause I kno' ya love me too."

All headstrong, decisive, and certain. How was this happening to you?

"'Thought you said it was obvious?"

"It was," he hummed, grinning at you, "-I could just barely wrap my head around ya flirtin' with me. Couldn't really see it."

You thought for a second, before speaking, "Was it Daryl?"

He grinned at you, tilting his head a little, "Maybe."

"Always knew he was a big softie," you hummed, "-read him like a book when we first met. Stone layers to an ooey-gooey center."

Rick scrunched up his nose, "Ooey-gooey center?"

"Sometimes," you sighed, "-Sometimes I say stupid shit around really attractive people. It's a habit."

"'Guess 'at means you're still gonna be flirting with me?"

"As long as you want me to, sheriff," you clarified.

"So maybe forever then," he grinned and you felt your heart leap into your chest (fuck his fond things). You were totally never getting over that.

"Yeah," you hummed in agreement, "-Maybe forever then."

Mission accomplished.

[feyascorner]

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door.  It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow. 

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master’s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you. 

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

[maedae-maedae]

Your Hands All Over My Guilty Conscience

☆ Okkotsu Yuuta x F!Reader

☆ Chapter 1/7

☆ Genre: Fluff & Smut, Mutual Pining

☆ Warnings: NSFW 18+

☆ Contents: Aged-Up Characters, College AU, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Obsession, Loyalty, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Drinking, House Party, Masturbation

☆ Word Count: 10.6k

☆ Summary: Linked at the hip as best friends since birth, you and Yuta have never once not been at eachother's side. Anyone who knew one of you, had to know the other. You made quite the reputation for yourselfs as an inseparable duo, throughout all your school years together. Yuta was committed to keep things this way, despite his secret feelings for you. He was strong-willed, keeping his longing emotions reined in and your relationship stable just the way it is.

But once the two of you graduate and enter university, this proves to be more difficult than Yuta anticipated. He finds himself in a whole other playing field. One that forces him to see and confront his feelings for you head-on. His once clean consciences regarding you, starts becoming more and more tainted. And worse, uni only seems to pull the two of you apart, something neither of you are used to. What is he supposed to do with all these new experiences and deep yearning for you?

☆ A/N: i actually wrote this chapter a while ago but didnt want to share until i had more planned out and written! hopefully next chapter is soon but this first one is probably longer than the ones following will be! think of it like a detailed opening introduction to the story.

warning: this story switches from fluff to smut/perverted a lot. might throw you off at times. also, HEAVY on the obsession tag. youre both obsessed with eachother but i really went over the top to express how crazy yuta is for you. hehe

Read on AO3

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Chapter 1 - Firsts

Yuta has a guilty conscience.

He’s known he was in love with you since high school. And aside from the painfulness that comes with an unreciprocated crush, he actually didn’t mind his feelings. He liked being head over heels for you. It was a privilege, he thought, to get to love you, even just to know you.

The two of you have been glued by the hip since birth practically. Your mom’s were best friends and somehow ended up pregnant at the same time, basically raising you two together. It really shouldn’t be a surprise the way he feels, after having you by his side all this time, how could he ever love someone else as deeply as he does you?

You were popular in high school, and people would only really acknowledge him in the way it related to you. “Y/n’s friend”. “That guy thats always with Y/n.” And, Yutas personal favorite, “Y/n’s boyfriend.” That one was always used in a way to tease you, and you would always refute it and scold whoever said it. But deep down it made him happy to be called that, and maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why at some point he started doing things in the hallways or the lunchroom to enforce that rumor. Very subtle physical affection that he was known for doing with you at this point. Fingers gently entangling with yours while the two of you talk about something by the window. It’s so gentle that you don’t even notice or mind, but anyone who was looking at you could see that you’re obviously holding hands, albeit weakly. The need to always be touching you in some way when you were together. Shoulders slumped into eachother while sitting together, pinkies wrapped while you sit on the school grass with friends, his hands grazing against yours when you walk side by side. He could never get enough of the little things. And yeah he did it for the rumors, so everyone would know that even if it wasn’t official, you were his. You were claimed already. No one could be this close with you and get away with it. But when you two were alone it was even better.

Yuta's love language was most definitely physical touch. You’ve always known that he likes to be physical, and that was just his way of showing he liked you. Platonically, in your eyes. When you’d hang out at each others house, he was still always connected with you in some way. Head in your lap as the two of you talk about some drama in your class. Arms around you from behind with his head on your shoulder as you finish a level of a game he already died in. Legs entangled in various ways under the kotatsu as you both do homework. It took many forms. It never bothered you luckily, in fact you’d long become accustomed to it. Even as kids Yuta was the same, and your moms used to eat it up and say you two would be married someday, taking a thousand one pictures of you for that reason.

It really was all innocence until sometime in high school when he had developed feelings. His physical affection never changed but the feeling and motive behind it might’ve. And sometimes he quite literally couldn't do some of the stuff he used to do when you were younger, because it would most definitely give him away now.

He’ll never forget the day it really changed for him. Playing video games with his arms around you like normal, but it wasn’t normal this time. His heart was beating, he was nervous. Looking up at you from your shoulder, he couldn’t get over how you look pretty from every angle. How cute were your reactions to every hit of damage you take in the game. Suddenly he’s incredibly aware of where his hands are sitting, how close you are, your warmth, your breathing, how good you smell. Something in his awareness heightens, like the flick of a switch, and he realizes that this is different. Different to what he thought it was. He also realizes how bad that is, and it makes his stomach drop. He went home early that day, but nothing ever changed. Only the way he felt.

After that day Yuta knew he had to be mindful with the way he acted with you, and even in the way he thought of you. He allowed himself to have loving thoughts of you, for they could always be rationalized in someway to be friendly. “You’re so pretty” could be followed by “so I cant believe none of the guys in class have confessed to you yet.” and “You have the most precious laugh” could be backed by “its no wonder why you have so many friends”. Stuff like that. What he wouldn’t allow and actively tried to avoid, were thoughts that could not possibly be platonic in any use of the word. Like sexual thoughts.

It was only natural. After becoming aware of his feelings and with the effects of maturing into a young adult he was bound to have thoughts like this. But he wouldn’t allow it, not even in your absence, in his own privacy. Of course he couldn’t fight sexual urges all together, but he did his very best not to think of you when he was doing something like that. And Yuta was very good at self-discipline, the reason why his test scores are the best in your grade. He was successful in pushing the thoughts away, avoiding seeing you in this new forbidden light. For a long time.

And everything was fine. You never suspected a thing from him, your friendship never changed, and you even ended up enrolling in the same university.

That’s where his trouble started.

College is a totally different experience from high school that he wasn’t quite expecting. And everything has been taking a toll on him lately.

When the two of you first start, everything’s fine. You already know a bunch of freshman from your school, but you’re also easy to make friends with a bunch of other people as well. Yuta mostly stays with your smaller friend group that you two had in highschool. Inumaki and Panda got into the same Uni as well, not to mention the boys ended up living together.

And Yuta has no real issue with you making new friends at all, of course he’s happy for you. You still like to have him with you all the time, even if you don’t have many classes together. So long as he can still have time with you, he’s happy. What starts to bother him is the way the guys around you stare. Men in uni are much different from high school. And most of the guys here have no idea about the rumors of you two, all his years of showing such a thing are now practically worthless. You don’t notice, but he always does. He hated the way they stare, as if undressing you with their disrespectful eyes, grinning and whispering to friends, probably making sly comments he can’t hear when they shouldn’t even have the right to take the slightest glance in your direction.

“Yuta?” You call to him from where you sit next to him in the dining hall. He just now realizes that he’d been staring down these two guys a couple tables away in his peripheral vision.

“Huh? Yeah?” He calls back to you, turning to look at you now.

“Is something wrong?“

“Huh? No, nothing.”

“Oh, okay… well, did you hear what I said?” You ask and his heart sinks a little. He wasn’t listening, he didnt even realize you were talking to him.

“No.. I’m sorry. Tell me again?” He offers, giving you his full attention now. You give him a smile at hearing his usual sweet tone of voice when he speaks to you. You love everything about the way he is with you.

“I was talking about a party I got invited to-“

“You were invited to a party?? But-“

“Yu, let me finish.” You tell him before he can start lecturing you about it being dangerous or something, as you’re positive he was going to. He pouts a little. Cute.

“It’s for freshman. An upperclassman invited me so I think it’s for all years, but I guess it’s more of a welcoming party.” You explain and Yuta only frowns more. Since when did you make friends with an upperclassman? He’s never seen you with one. And the thought of you being at a party with a bunch of drunk guys or just drunk people in general makes him nervous.

His fingers automatically find yours under the table. Without thinking he finds a way to connect with you. It may have been to calm himself down, or maybe to get your attention again so you could see that he’s clearly uncertain about this idea. He couldn’t say. It does get your attention though, and you give him a look of understanding as your fingers intertwine a bit more.

“I know college parties can be kinda crazy and all that, and I wouldn’t want to go alone anyways even if they weren’t. They said I could invite whoever I wanted so.. You guys wanna come?”

“Sure, I’m down.” Inumaki says, and Yuta had almost forgot his friends were there for a second.

“Oh, yeah! Our first college party! I’ll be there.” Panda grins and you smile at their agreement. Your gaze returns to Yuta again, and his to yours.

“I’m.. not really into parties but..” He starts and you look like you’re anticipating his agreement. “If you wanna go, of course I’ll go with you.”

You smile at him, sweet as ever. But you do feel a bit bad about the possibility that you’re forcing him. As much as you want him there, you don’t want him to be miserable going with you.

“You don’t have to, y’know. Just because I’m going. I wont make you.” You remind him and he smiles too now, nodding.

“I know. I want to.” He reassures you and you feel relieved at that. “Plus, I want to make sure you guys are all safe. It’s better to go with a group to stuff like this and have someone to look over everyone.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Inumaki tells him. “I can’t drink.”

Right, Inumaki has a chronic condition that makes his throat very sensitive, of course he wouldn’t be allowed alcohol.

“And I have a high tolerance! I’ll be fine.” Panda informs too, and you all look at him like you’re suspicious of how he even knows that. He just smiles.

“Well, still. Being in one place with a ton of drunk people is dangerous on its own.” Yuta says anyways, going back to picking at his food.

You give him a knowing look.

“You can just admit you wanna come and have fun. It’s okay, we wont judge you.” You tease and the other two chuckle a bit.

“Well, maybe.” Yuta gives after a second of embarrassment by your call out. “But I’m mostly going for the other reason.”

You laugh at how cute he is, squeezing his hand before letting it go to hug him. He blushes in concession with both your adorable laugh and your warm embrace. His two friend wiggle their eyebrows at him as your back is to them and Yuta rolls his eyes at them. They are always contempt to tease him in silence. Yuta never even told them about how he feels, but he knows they just know. And he doesn’t mind. As long as it doesn’t get to you.

Agreeing to go to this party with you was probably both the best and worst thing he could’ve done. It would’ve been better if he could’ve talked you out of coming, but he knew from the beginning that wouldn’t be an option, and he wouldn’t want to control you.

When you first get there, the four of you are a bit awkward. Panda offers to take your first ever shot with you and somehow Yuta even agrees to do “just the one”. You take the hit pretty well, but you all burst out laughing when Yuta makes the most disgusted expression you’ve ever seen on him.

It’s sweet, even if embarrassing, the two of you having “first” moments together like this. It’s not long before your two friends are nowhere to be found, and Yuta can assume why they left you two alone. It’s also not long after that you’re convincing him to take another couple of shots with you, even though he hated the first one, he loved having these moments with you. He’d do anything with you. Even follow you to the center of the room to dance when he’s always known he’s not the best dancer.

When you’re dancing, quite a few people come up to you to talk, even just to say hello. You really know a lot of people. But it doesn’t bother him at all because even with everyone that comes by, you never once let go of his hand. And when your attention isn’t on him, he can freely admire you as much as he wants without having to be cautious about the way he looks at you.

He knows the alcohol is catching up to him a little when he starts to get needy. Any kind of connection with you is enough for him on a normal day, but right now he has the urge to be all over you, and it’s taking everything in him to keep it subtle.

You’re still talking to some girl he’s maybe seen a few times— he can’t recall, when he decides he needs your attention again. He pulls your hand towards him, but it doesn’t deter you from the loud  conversation you’re having, much more than a quick glance at him. On the inside it feels like he could start whining, begging for you to look at him, be with him in this moment. The music isn’t helping either, some seductive rnb song with vulgar lyrics pumping in his ears. He does something he’s never done before, without much thought to it either. His free hand reaches out and grabs your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you towards him. You gasp and look at him with surprise. Even more surprised when you see the longing expression on his face. Your friend seemingly understands and leaves you two be, to Yutas relief.

He can’t stand the embarrassment he feels with the way you’re looking at him, but he also can’t bare to be apart from you at all anymore. He pulls you in, his arms wrapping around you, hands resting in a dangerous area. Any lower and this couldn’t be considered platonic at all. He bends over a bit so his head can nuzzle into your neck. He wants to feel you, all of you, even more than this. But he stops here.

“Yu…?” You say in a bit of a confused tone, right in his ear. A chill runs down his spine. Your hands had already come up to wrap around him as well, rubbing his back in a way that made him feel so warm.

“Mmve you.” He mumbles and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.

“Hm?” You ask for him to clarify, voice smooth like honey, but he doesn’t say anything else. The two of you stay like that, starting to rock to the music when it’s clear that this is not just a hug.

It’s not like you look out of place at all, there are plenty of people around you doing something similar, even straight up making out.

“Yu.. look at me.” You tell him and he can’t help but comply. His head lifts up from your shoulder and he stands up a bit straighter to look at you.

“You okay??” You ask him sweetly and his heart races looking into your eyes. It’s too much for him. This is all too much.

He nods anyways, eyes closing and forehead coming to rest against yours.

He thinks you must be at least a little drunk too by the way your hands start to caress his back and sides. But he doesn’t even think about what you might be thinking about him being so clingy like this. He knows you don’t mind, that you understand, you always understand him. He loves you for it.

“You drunk already? Hmm??” You say and he doesn’t have to be looking at you to hear the smirk in your voice.

“I mean I expected it but you’re really a lightweight, huh?” You say to him and this time he opens his eyes to see you smiling.

“Of course I am.. this is my first time drinking.” Yuta says in basically a whine. Your heart races.

The thing Yuta doesn’t know, is that you’re obviously just as needy for him right now. You don’t think the alcohol has really gotten to you that much, and thank god for that honestly. But you love seeing him like this, it’s making you feel all types of things about him.

There’s a silence as he frowns. You tilt your head as if saying “what?” to him.

“I need to use the bathroom.” He tells you so bluntly that it makes you laugh. But before you know it you’re leading him to the bathroom, guiding him by the hand. Truth is, you don’t know where it is either, you’ve never been here. But you feel a sort of need to take charge for some reason. You find it pretty quickly anyways, and tell him you’ll wait outside.

Relieving himself proves difficult after having gotten half hard from what just happened. He’s lucky you didnt feel it, or maybe you did and you didn’t say anything. Who knows? Eventually he figures it out and gets back outside.

His heart sinks when he doesn’t see you. Glancing around frantically, he tries to look for any sight of you. Red, you were wearing red, that and any of your features that he’s so familiar with would be impossible to miss. He starts pushing past people, anxiously looking for where you might’ve gone. It’s maybe 20 minutes later when he finally finds you, in the kitchen. After the relief washes over him, he realizes that the anxiety looking for you definitely sobered him up already.

He wasn’t able to see at first, someone blocking his view, but as he moves further into the kitchen, he catches it. A guy talking to you, but not just any guy, the guy from the lunch room the other day.

His dirty mouth probably having said disgusting things about you—that you’re totally unaware of, yapping away at you as you nod at him.

No. He wont have it.

He continues to push past people, small apologizes leaving his mouth all the same even with all the anger running through him right now. You’re surprised when he grabs your wrist, even though he’s still gentle about it, it comes so suddenly.

“Oh! Yuta, you-“

“Where’d you go?” He asks immediately, as if scolding you.

“Huh? Where’d I.. oh! My friend pulled me away I- oh but I told someone waiting in line to tell you where I went did they not tell you?”

“No. No one told me.” He states coldly and you frown.

“Oh. Sorry..” You say but realize that now he’s glaring at the guy you were just talking to. “Oh, yeah, this is-“

“Don’t care.” He mutters and before you can say anything, he’s pulling you back towards the living room from where he came in. His pull isn’t harsh, you could easily refute, but you follow him anyways.

He leads you away until you’re in the corner of the room, away from the speakers where it’s a bit quieter.

“Wha was that? Kinda rude, Yu.” You say, confused, and now significantly more disoriented. Your friends had pulled you away for a drinking game, and Yuta was in the bathroom for a bit.

“You said you would wait outside.” He says, almost like pouting, but his expression is stern and serious.

“Yeah but you were taking foreverrr.” You tease, giving him a silly smile. “What were you even doing in there, huh?”

“That doesn’t matter, you scared me! I told you places like this are dangerous for-“ He starts to lecture you, but cuts himself off to focus on you for a second. It finally starts to click for him that you aren’t in the same state he left you in. Your eyes are lazy, kind of wandering. Your body swaying and unbalanced. And just from knowing how your body language usually is, he knows something is really off.

“Did you drink more while I was in the bathroom?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You tell him honestly, not seeing any reason to hide it.

“How much?”

“Ummmm….”

“You don’t know?!”

“I’m thinking!!”

You put your finger to your lips and start working your brain to remember, counting off the number in your head.

“Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Yuta says as it takes you longer than he thinks it should to answer.

“It was like.. four.. actually, five.”

“Five what?”

“Shots.”

“Of what??”

“Um.. alcohol?”

“You don’t even know what they were giving you?” Yuta stares at you in complete disbelief.

“Well, they didn’t tell me, so..” You mumble a reply, feeling guilty now like you must have made a mistake. “Does it really matter?”

“Y/n!” Yuta says as if scolding you, again.

“What? It was a game, we were all just having fun!!” You retort.

“You can’t just take any drink anyone gives you! I cant believe I have to tell you that.” He says, crossing his arms.

“They’re not just anyone they’re my friends!” You retort again, frowning at him.

“I’m your friend. You hardly know these people!” He argues without hesitation and something in you hurts at those words. 

“Yu…”

“And what’s in that, then?” He inquires, pointing down, and— up until now you totally forgot the red cup in your hand. Oh, make that 6(?) drinks you guess.

“It’s mango juice and… vodka.” You tell him warily, knowing you have no clue what kind of alcohol it actually is. But you can’t lie to his face, you know you can’t. “…Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“Yu!! Stop worrying! Look, I’m fine! I’m safe! And I have you here, so iss okay.” You tell him genuinely and Yuta’s heart pangs. Knowing you have so much security and trust in him to know you’ll be safe as long as he’s here, makes him incessantly happy. But he just doesn’t trust the people here, and god forbid he lose you again.

“Y/n, let’s go home.” He tells you as nicely as he can.

“What? No, I’m having fun.” You tell him to his dismay and he frowns. He really doesn’t want to argue with you.

“Please. The alcohol you had probably hasn’t even really caught up with you yet. We should get you home before it does.”

“Yu, I’m not leaving. I came to have a good time.” You tell him again firmly and he basically pouts at this. “Cmon. I wanna have a good time with you too. Let’s go dance again.”

You entice him, your hand finding his for the millionth time, that look in your eyes as you stare up at him. You have to know what you do to him, right?

“…Alright.” He agrees and your smile spreads into a grin, practically jumping in place with excitement and victory at convincing him.

“But!” He interrupts, putting his finger up and making you go still again. “No more drinking for the night.” 

“Whattt?” You frown and protest as he takes the cup that was basically empty anyways out of your hands.

“You’ve had a lot already for your first time and I don’t want you to get sick. Let’s just hang out for the rest of the time, okay?”

You pout as he waits for your compliance to his terms. You think about how likely it would be for him to actually carry you out of here if you didn’t.

“Promise me? Please?” He says sweetly, looking into your eyes as if further asking with them. You cant say no to him like this.

“Fine.” You tell him and you adore the way he smiles afterward. “For you.”

After that, the two of you are back in the middle of where everyone else is dancing. This time he isn’t really intoxicated at all and maybe that’s why he’s not so needy. Your other friends come to join with you, even inumaki and panda as well. He sees you having a good time and that’s enough for him to have a good time too. Though he supposes he’s also just having fun dancing and being young with everyone like this.

The night about peaks there.

After dancing a bit, you lean into Yuta’s ear to tell him you’re gonna go get water for the two of you. You’re basically yelling since you guys are dancing pretty close to the speakers this time. When Yuta finally understands you he shoots you a concerned look. You roll your eyes.

“You trust meee, right?” You say again into his ear. He nods without hesitating. Of course he trusts you.

“I’m just getting water, promise.” You tell him again. “I’ll be back.”

Before he can offer to get it instead, you’re gone.

He watches you go, snaking your way through people toward the kitchen. He feels a bit awkward with you gone now, like it’s not as fun in your absence. Still he watches your friends and his dance along together, and he can’t help smiling at them.

After a minute he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks over, thinking it’s you. It’s a girl he’s never seen before. Or at least he thinks he hasn’t. She’s mouthing something at him, probably talking at normal volume, but he can’t hear obviously.

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you!” He shouts over the music and she beckons him with her hand to come closer. He complies, not really thinking much of it. She must have something to tell him. Maybe it’s about you?

When he does lean in, shes so close he can feel her breathing. It’s weird, being this close to someone else and it almost feels wrong. She just starts a normal conversation with him, asking where he’s from and what year he is. It seems normal and Yuta talks along with her, thinking it a little strange to be having a normal conversation somewhere so inconvenient. But he’s polite about it. She keeps talking, and all Yuta can think about is where you are. Would it take this long to get water? No, but, he trusts you. He doesn’t need to worry.

“Are you okay?” The girl asks and he snaps back to the current moment again.

“H-huh? Oh, yeah.” He yells back, as they’ve been doing for a few minutes.

She says something like he’s very cute, or that’s what he thinks she said. When it’s clear he didn’t properly hear her, she pulls him close, forcefully by his shirt. It’s when she starts saying things in his ear that are obviously flirting now that he finally sees you out of the corner of his eye. You look shocked but, hey, you do have two cups of water with you.

You start talking to the girl, back and forth, the two of you talking quickly about something he’s not quite hearing.

Something something- you. Something something- your boyfriend? Something something- just leave something alone.

Then they start getting louder, and he starts to hear better. This is also where he starts to realize you’re not just talking to her, you’re arguing with her.

“Why do you even care? _____ jealous?” The other girl says, parts of what she’s saying still kind of blank. The two of them are clearly angry now. Even your friends are starting to wonder whats going on.

“Excuse me? Who even are you? You ____ and then ____?!”

From there it all happens so quickly, Yuta barely has time to process it all. He knows how you get when you’re angry, he’s seen you argue with girls and even guys from your school before. Hell, even when you were kids you used to get into fights with other kids who would bully him until they stopped. It’s not that you look for a fight, or that you’re easy to get upset at all, but when you do you’re a hundred percent with it. You don’t waver or back down, as long as you believe you’re in the right. But, what could this girl have possibly done to make you so mad? And what’s gonna happen when how you usually are in an arguement is boosted with the effects of being intoxicated?

He has no time to prevent it at all. Voices get louder, you both get closer. Then he hears the other girl say “Oh, why don’t we test that then, huh?”

She turns to him, calls something out to him, but he just continues to stand there, very confused. Suddenly her hands are reaching up for him, taking his face in her hands and pulling him towards her own. Again, this is all happening too fast for Yuta to process. He only realizes shes about to kiss him when all at once the girl is now drenched in water, some of the splash bouncing off and hitting him as well. She freezes to look down at herself in shock, and Yuta stares with eyes wide. He’s too late to look at you because when he does, you’re already lunging at her, shoving her towards the wall with no remorse.

He’s quick to act this time as you’re about to go after her for more, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back as you actively squirm and yell for him to let you go. It’s to his dismay when he sees the other girl coming towards you now rather than leaving. Your other friends join in to help in holding the both of you back. It’s a bit of a struggle to get you two apart, but before he knows it, Yuta and the other boys have successfully gotten you away. Which happened to be upstairs, since the girls were taking the other girl outside.

Thankfully it didn’t cause too big of a scene. People around had stopped to look and see what was going on, but once the fight was prevented, everything went back to normal.

“What the hell was that?! What happened?!” Panda shouts at you as you’re still panting from all the struggle to get out of the hold of the three boys that now stand around you in some random bedroom. You’re on the bed, and Yuta sits next to you. You don’t even want to look at him.

“What did she say??” Inumaki adds.

“Are you okay?” Yuta also adds, sweetly more concerned about that than anything.

“I’m fine.” You say in a tone that indicates you are infact not.

“Oh, sure, answer Yuta but not us.” Panda says, rolling his eyes. “Can we get an explanation?”

“Guys. Cmon. That was obviously a lot. She needs time to process.” Yuta says in your defense and it’s honestly hard to stay mad at him, though you’re not even quite sure why you are. You’re feeling a lot of things right now.

The three of them go back and forth a bit and you’re not having it, already upset enough.

“Can you guys jush leave me alone!!” You shout and again, you’re not even sure why. You don’t want to be alone.

“…What?” Yuta says, almost like in disbelief, and you turn to see his sad expression. Something on your heart tugs. You don’t think you’ve ever asked Yuta to leave you alone. He was always around to help you even in your lowest times, even when it was the two of you who fought.

You hear a sigh from Inumaki.

“Alright, we get it, we’ll leave you two alone. Lovebirds.” He says, muttering the last part. You blush slightly, they totally read through you just now.

“We expect an explanation later though!” Panda calls on their way out. The two of you stare at the door for a moment after.

When Yuta finally turns back at you, he’s genuinely surprised to see you look so angry. Were you mad at him?

“What’s… going on? What happened back there?” He asks you gently, cautiously.

“Yuta you are so clueless!!” You shout at him suddenly, making him jump.

“H-huh?!”

“You didn’t notice?! She was flirting with you!” You say and push his chest, too gentle to actually be real anger.

“What?? I mean.. well I kind of noticed, eventually…” he says sheepishly, a bit confused. “Why does it matter?”

He watches your face heat up and you quickly look away from him.

“Oh my god,” you say, putting your face in your hands. “You make me feel crazy.”

“Huh?” Yuta mumbles again and then he suddenly remembers that you’re still drunk. He goes to touch your arm but you snap back around at him before he can.

“She was trying to kiss you!!” You shout and he nods in surprise.

“I know!” He confirms and his heart speeds up when he realizes that was clearly not the thing to say. You suddenly look sad instead of mad, and it breaks his heart.

“I-It’s not like I wanted her to. It happened so fast I-“

“Yeah right, when I got there she was all over you! You’ve always been clueless!! It’s like this any time any girl flirts with you! In highschool too.”

…what?

When Yuta looks back on tonight, it was obvious that girl was flirting with him, sure, even if he did notice kind of late. But high school? He never had girls who flirted with him, not that he can think of.

“What.. do you mean? I was never hit on in high school.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” You say, poking his chest. “That’s my point.”

This is troubling for him as he starts to really analyze anytime any girl might of flirted with him in the past. No matter how hard he thinks, he can’t even think of one.

Then he realizes something. What… does this have to do with anything? So you were mad that that girl was flirting with him. Got that. But why? There’s really only one answer right? But there’s no way… it has to be in a platonic way, right? Jealousy.

He snaps out of his thoughts suddenly when he hears a familiar sniffle, and his awareness lights up, like an instinct. You’re crying. You’re crying right next to him, and it seems like it’s his fault. His heart aches and he immediately pulls you into an embrace, quietly cooing soft affirming words and apologies, rubbing your back. He remembers AGAIN, the fact that you are very drunk, and of course your actions are not going to completely make sense to him or anyone. People do unreasonable things when they’re drunk right? Things they’d never think of doing sober. So, he decides to just comfort you and assure you rather than argue or try to understand anymore.

You stay like this, gently crying into his chest and gripping his shirt as he holds you, his chin resting on your head. He knows exactly when you need this kind of comforting, and he’s very happy to give it to you. You go quiet after a few minutes, and he doesn’t pull back until you quietly call his name.

“Yuta.” You say, slightly muffled.

“Mm?” He hums as he softly pulls back to look at you.

You look up at him, eyes wet and face tinted pink, an absolute painting of purity underneath him.

“We should kiss.” You tell him, completely genuine.

“h-hUH?!” He squeaks and the crack in his voice does not help his face that immediately turned red at your words.

“You don’t want to?” You say sadly and this feels like some kind of test.

“No, I!- I mean… why… do you say that?” His words leave his mouth in a pathetic way that he hates, as if betraying him.

“It’s just…” You start sheepishly, and now you have to look away, embarrassed. “We’ve been together since we were kids.. we’ve done everything together. All the firsts. So…”

He watches as you breathe in and turn to look at him again, hanging on to every word you’re saying.

“Doesn’t it make sense that we should be eachothers first kiss too? It’d be weird to give it to anyone else… and you almost had someone take your first kiss tonight… that can happen too, so…”

You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk. You’re drunk.

He has to hammer that into his head to not lose himself here. But even repeating it to himself over and over, he’s leaning in, and you’re leaning in. You’re so close, something he’s always wanted deep down is right in front of him, teasing, taunting him.

It takes everything in him to pull back again.

“I can’t…” He says, his eyes clenched shut.

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“And?”

“And… it would be wrong…” he continues, really trying his best to keep composure here, and somewhat failing. His eyes shoot open when he feels you climb over him, coming to sit in his lap where your legs stratal him. Now this is something you two have never done. Your body is so warm on top of his, and your hands too when they come to rest against his chest. One hand comes up to brush a hair out of his eyes, then falling down to caress his cheek. He swallows hard.

What are you doing?

“This is about me?” You ask him curiously. Your sober self would be shocked by how easily you’re about to do something you’ve always dreamed of doing to Yuta specifically. You want to kiss him, of course, but you also want to tease him. You love to do so on a normal day, but you’ve been given quite the special opportunity with the current situation and your rise in confidence thanks to the drinks earlier.

“Yes.. b-but this is-“

“If it’s about me, then let’s just do it. I’m practically sober.” You lie to him, which you never do. You really want this.

“You’re not. You’re drunk, I can tell.” He calls your bluff even in his flustered state. You’re caught. You can’t really argue with him on that. Instead you bring your head down to lay on his shoulder, resting there for a moment. He sighs quietly in relief, thinking you’d given in, his arms coming in to hold you again. There’s a moment of peace.

A loud gasp leave his lips suddenly when you start pressing your lips to his neck. Softly, you place one by one, moving around to make sure to give him plenty. You feel like you’re on fire when you hear him start to moan at this. You knew he’d be the type to moan and whine, you know him. You want to hear more. You cant stop yourself.

“Ah.. Y/n..” he breathes as you kiss up to the nape of his ear and along his collar bone. You even come up to give his cheek a couple of pecks the way you think you must’ve when you were really little. My how times change, and yet not at all. All he can think about is how soft your lips are, trying to fight against is own pleasure.

“Y/n..” he says, strained, like he’s pleading you. “Really, we can’t do this… Please, stop.”

At his specific request for you to stop, you do. You pull back and look at him. His face is flushed like crazy and he looks so lusted. Yet he said no, and his hands stay put on your back. In fact, he’s not moved a muscle at all since you climbed onto him.

“You really don’t want to?” You ask, almost sadly.

“I already told you..” he trails off weakly, not able to look at you in the eyes. His face is really burning up. Honestly even he’s impressed with how much he’s able to hold back right now. Literally any other circumstance. Anywhere, anytime, he would give into you. But he would hate himself if tomorrow you said this was a mistake, or god forbid got angry at him for letting you do something in a state where your minds not right like this. You trusted him to keep you safe, and that includes from himself. He is a man after all, childhood best friend or otherwise. He’s doing this for you essentially, even though it’s ironically the opposite of what you want in the moment.

“If you’d rather have your first time with someone else, you can just say that.” You say, stubborn, frowning at him. What first are you talking about here?

“You know it’s not that-“

“Say you don’t want to and I’ll drop it.” You say sternly, giving him the hard choice. You don’t know how you got stuck on this, or even if your reasoning or actions were making sense. All you know is you want to kiss your best friend, and you want him to want it too.

He groans, almost a whine and you feel him squeeze your sides. You get excited for a moment, thinking he’ll give in.

“Fine... I… I don’t want to.” He says finally, and looking you in the eyes when he does so you know that he’s serious this time. He can’t even believe it himself, he knows that’s a huge lie. But it’s the only way to get you to stop apparently, and it’s for your own good. Plus, this is something he hasn’t even allowed himself to fantasize about, and now it’s happening right in front of him. He’s a little scared of what this might do to him, and more importantly, your relationship. He’s also unsure if he has the self control to stop after kissing you once. Cross that first line and there’s no telling where this will end up. Maybe that’s the real reason he knows he has to hold back for your sake. One kiss wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

You go from looking hurt, and then back to angry. You push yourself up off him, coming to stand.

“Fine. Then, maybe I should go get that girl. Since I obviously ruined what you two had going on.” You shoot at him, turning towards the door. Apparently being drunk really amplifies your jealousy, which is new to you. Usually you’re very good at hiding or completely ignoring it.

“Y/n, that’s crazy. Why would I want to kiss some girl I hardly know?”

“Well you clearly weren’t against it!” You say, turning to him again with your arms crossed.

“I didn’t notice! I don’t want to kiss her!” He insists.

“Whatever!” You head for the door again, hand taking the knob. You feel him grab your other hand.

“Y/n-“

“Let go!” You shout and try to pull your arms from his grasp to no avail.

“Please. Just stop. Listen to me.” He pleads, ignoring your squirming to pull you back to him. You finally look up at him, annoyed.

“You’re my best friend. I’ve had you for as long as I can remember, and you’re right. We’ve done everything together. It would be weird to have my first with anyone else, so… I actually think, what you said.. I think it’s a good idea. I want to do it.” He tells you quickly so that you’ll hear him out. You look at him a little surprised.

“Wha..? But you just-“

“I’ll tell you what…” He stops you before you can retaliate. “If you wake up tomorrow, when you’re sober, and you still want that first kiss.. I’ll do it.”

He tells you this and you immediately believe him. You know he will, he never goes back on his word. Still, your stubborn expression doesn’t waver much.

“I promise.” He says, squeezing your hand and giving you a genuine look. That does it. You let out a sigh.

Truth is, ever since standing up, you’ve felt kind of dizzy and gross. It’s been hard to even stay focused on what you were mad about.

You lean forward, dropping into Yuta’s chest, surprising him a little.

“I don’t feel good.” You say weakly and he chuckles.

“Let’s leave, yeah?” He suggests and you nod, following as he finally opens the door and leads you down the hall. He only stops in front of the stairs when you stop, pulling his arm by staying in place. He looks back at you, confused, but understands almost immediately after seeing you. He realizes now that he must’ve underestimated just how “not good” you felt.

He takes you back towards the bathroom, gently, but with urgency. You make it there and luckily there’s no line either. He guides you in with a hand on your back, shutting and locking the door after you.

Honestly you don’t know why but you’re embarrassed by what he’s about to see. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in terrible states before, sick, or sobbing, or depressed. But this is just, humiliating for some reason, especially after what just happened. Though it could be worse.

He of course pulls your hair back as you let it out into the toilet. He hates hearing your sounds of pain and he’s pretty sure he hears you crying as well. He wishes he could help more, but once he thinks you’re done he just gently rubs your back for a while.

“Sorry..” you mumble to him without moving and he shakes his head immediately.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” He reassures you.

I love you. I would do this for you everytime. Is what he wishes he could say. And he so badly wants to think about everything that just happened in that bedroom, to replay it in his mind and ask questions. But he knows to save it for later. Your condition is more important right now.

Eventually people outside need to use the restroom, and it seems like you’re not going to throw up anymore, so Yuta helps you up and outside. But even then, you feel too weak to stand and you decide to sit against the hallway wall. He takes a seat next to you without question. He sits with you for a while, even after your head falls onto his shoulder and he can tell that you’re asleep.

Panda and Inumaki find you and suggest leaving, so Yuta knows he has to wake you. He shakes you slightly by the shoulder.

“Hey..” he says softly when you groan and blink your eyes a couple times hazily.

“Think you can stand?” He asks you.

You groan and nuzzle further into his shoulder.

“Mdont wantto.” You mumble into him and he smiles.

“Alright, I’m gonna carry you then, okay?” He tells you and you just hum in response.

Eventually you’re on Yuta’s back, walking outside around your school campus to get to his apartment. Most of its a blur as you fall in and out of sleep through the whole walk.

Yuta tells the two very eager-to-know boys about what he thinks happened with you and that girl, but not much about what came after with him. They say the same things his brain was trying to tell him and he kept ignoring. They say it’s obvious. That theres no such thing as “platonic jealousy” like that. But he’s still in denial.

“I’m sure it was only a platonic thing.” He says, trying to convince more than his friends, looking over and checking on you every few seconds to make sure you’re still out. “We’ve never been romantic with anyone so shes probably just nervous about what would happen. I would be too.”

They don’t believe him, and he’s not sure if he does either. But he has to. Because if tonight meant anything else, then what does that mean for you two?

Yuta decided a long time ago that he would never confess, not unless he was 100% sure of your feelings. For fear of losing this privilege to know you, to get to have you around, even if just platonically. He couldn’t bear it. Things had to stay the same.

When you get back to his apartment, he brings you straight to his bed, ready to let you sleep there and find his own place on the couch.

“Do you want to shower first? I can lend you some clean clothes.” He suggests softly as you both sit in the quiet of the room. He brushes your hair gently behind your ear so that it’s out of your face.

“You’re just saying that cus you don’t want me to get all my sweat and stuff on your sheets.” You accuse, but he can tell it’s not hostile at all. You’re not mad anymore.

“I don’t care about that, I can just do laundry tomorrow. But I think it’d feel better for you that way.” He tells you honestly and you sigh. He knows you don’t want to.

“I just wanted to remind you that you can, you don’t have to. But you know what’s mine is yours here, right? If you need anything just go ahead.” He says sweetly and you hum, finally moving to lay down, resting your head on his pillow. It smells like Yuta. You nuzzle into it further.

“Okay.. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” He tells you with a chuckle.

“Wait.” You say before he can get to the door. He turns to you.

“Mwhere are you goin?” You mumble sleepily. His heart melts.

“Just to the living room. I’ll sleep on the couch so don’t worry, okay?”

“Come here.” You tell him bluntly and he does. When he gets to the bed you pat the spot next to you. His face flushes.

“What? You want me to sleep here??”

“Mhm.”

“With you?”

“Just lay down, Yu.. I wanna sleep.” You groan, too exhausted to be explaining or convincing. You just want him next to you.

And then he’s laying next to you.

This shouldn’t be awkward, you guys have napped together before. But that was a long time ago, and things feel different now. He’s so unsure of where to put his hands or how to position himself until you decide for him. You reach out and pull yourself into him, arms wrapping around him and legs tangling. He naturally just curls around you all the same, feeling your breath on his chest as you easily lull into sleep like this. It’s a bit hard to think about anything but how soft and warm you are for a little while, hot and flustered from how intimate this feels and scared to mess it up. But, he does feel more comfortable after. How could he not? The way you sleep so peacefully in his arms sends him off to sleep not long after you.

The morning after that night is the start of his guilty conscience.

When he wakes up sporting a full hard-on, he’s incredibly glad you’re not in a position to have noticed it. He had the craziest dream about you, and waking up face to face to you afterwards could not make him feel anymore mortified and embarrassed. How could he? Have a wet dream about you when you’re sleeping RIGHT next to him.

And the thoughts he’s having about you right now as he watches you so innocently sleep, blissfully unaware to his thoughts.

It’s horrible.

It’s exciting. No, it’s perverted.

Even with all his self control in previous years, you can’t really control what you dream about, can you? Sure, he’s had dreams like these about you before. But he’s read on the internet that people have wet dreams about random people too, people they’ve never even considered like that! So he doesn’t count it.

But it’s when he’s sliding out of bed to take care of things in the bathroom, trying to relieve himself to anything but the thought of you. He just can’t think of anything else good enough. He wants to think about you so bad. The way you were all over him last night, so many opportunities where he could’ve told you how he feels. He could’ve told you want he wanted from you so badly instead of denying it.

When he was tipsy, body pressed against you and music pumping in his ears. His face tucked into your neck, breathing in your scent clearer than anything and feeling your hands stretched around his back. He even could’ve told you then, that he loved you. How badly he wanted you in that moment too, his desires bubbling up so bad that he could practically beg for you. And maybe you would’ve at least humored him, giggled at his drunken daze and been so gracious as to grant him more of you.

Or what would’ve happened if he had let you do what you wanted? In that bedroom, alone just the two of you, with you in his lap. Would you really have stopped after one kiss?

And then snippets from his dream start to cross his mind. You in the same dress last night that he tried so incredibly hard not to think about too much, how it hugged every curve of your body and made your breasts look so nice. And in that dream, the dirty things you said to him between kisses on his neck while you stroked his length.

“Does that feel good, Yu? You wanna cum for me?”

“Yes.. ffucyes..” He mumbles to himself as his pace gets faster. Somehow it ended up like this, not sure when he even started to touch himself, but far past the headspace to care. He feels his climax already, the thought of you making him so unbelievably excited.

In his mind you’re on top of him, bouncing on his cock in all your glory in that beautiful dress that you love. And he could admire anything else right now but all he wants to see is the look on your face. He wants to see how good he can make you feel, not holding back anything at all.

“Fuck, Yu… That feels so good.. I love you..” You’d whine for him and he can feel his pleasure spilling over.

“Y/n… godfuck.. I love you, I love you.” He chants to himself as quietly as he can manage as his hips start to jerk up and stutter. His climax hits and normally he’d be ready to catch his load in his hands, but it rips through him so urgently and suddenly that it manages to catch him offguard.

He stares at the scene in front of him, the mess he made. His breathing is shaky and uneven. His heartbeat doesn’t slow as he starts to realize what he just did. He just jerked off thinking about you, shamelessly, while you’re literally a room away. How could he? What would you think of him if you found out about this? You’d probably think he’s a huge pervert and never talk to him again, right?

You always understood him, but this is unforgivable.

The guilt eats him alive, even after he’s cleaned up and started making breakfast. Trying to distract himself with tasks and chores, he can’t even bring himself to go back to his room and face you as he keeps thinking about the awful thoughts his mind willingly conjured about you. There’s no excuse now. And even in his guilt, he can’t stop thinking about how good that felt. He’s never felt that good thinking or looking at anything else when pleasuring himself. This is bad. He could get addicted to this. He wants to do it again right now, actually. Is that horrible?

“Yu?” Your voice startles him so bad that he jumps, almost throwing the frying pan in his hold. He turns to see your still fogged-with-sleep self standing before him. You’re still in that dress.

“H-hey. You’re up! I’m… making breakfast. Are you hungry?” He says, nervous for some reason. Like you’d be able to tell immediately just by looking at him what he’s done, smell the pervertedness and deceit on him.

“Mm.. That sounds nice.” You just smile and then let out a small yawn. You’re so adorable. What has he done? “I’m gonna shower first, is that okay?”

Another wave of anxiety rushes through him as he starts to overthink whether or not he cleaned up enough in there. Which is dumb, because he literally scrubbed any evidence possible off the floor with diligence. But maybe you’d find something anyways.

“Oh.. um.. yeah, go ahead. You know I don’t mind.” He says after maybe a little too long of a pause.

He waits for you to come out again with breakfast laid out on the coffee table in front of him. He mindlessly scrolls on his phone to keep his thoughts busy with something, anything else.

When you step out again, you’re wearing one of his t-shirts he almost never wears and seemingly his boxers as well, though he can’t see them very well from how far the shirt falls. He has to act like he’s reading something very interesting on his phone to avoid looking at you, his face blushing. This should be just a regular morning for you two and yet why does it feel like like you just-

“Fuck, I needed that shower! I feel so much better” You tell him as you take a seat by his side.

He smiles, putting his phone down now.

“I’m glad.” He watches you sip down some of the water in front of you, eyes shamefully trained on your lips. “And.. how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine! Don’t worry. I think I probably puked up all the alcohol in my system last night. If anything I’m just hungry. And thirsty.” You tell him as you poke your fork into a piece of pancake on your plate, and then catching yourself.  “Oh. Sorry, that’s kinda gross to say right before we eat. Thank you for the food by the way.”

You look at him and smile so sweetly that it makes Yuta forget about all the thoughts plaguing him for a moment. He laughs at your words.

“You’re welcome. But you should eat as much as you can before the other two get out here and devour it all.”  He jokes and starts eating as well. You let out a small laugh and nod in agreement.

“You’re right, I forgot they live here.”You say and you’re only half kidding. “That’s why you made so much, huh? I got worried you were expecting me to finish this, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Yuta laughs and shakes his head, taking another forkful of eggs. After that the conversation kinda dies as the two of you just enjoy your delicious breakfast.

A few minutes of silence go by before he decides to speak up.

“So.. do you remember much about last night?” He asks you and you turn to him with a curious look. “I know that sometimes if you drink too much it can affect your memory.. so I was just wondering.”

He knows he’s probably blushing a bit now. There’s a real reason why he’s asking you, right?

“Oh. Well, yeah I’m pretty sure I remember most of it. Some of it is maybe a little foggy.” You tell him after thinking for a moment. When you look at him again, he’s staring at you. You laugh a little.

“If you’re wondering if I remember the almost-fight and all that, I definitely do. Though I kinda wish I didn’t.” You joke, but not really kidding. Deep down you are a little mortified about what you did. Moreso with Yuta than with that girl, but still even then you only caused that scene because of your jealousy over Yuta. Does he know you like him that way now? Did you give yourself away?

“Ah.. I see.” He says awkwardly and your guilt pangs in you.

“Yuta.. I’m really sorry about last night.” You say finally and he looks at you kinda surprised. “I mean I did a lot of embarrassing things that weren’t too bad, could just be written off as those funny things I did at my first party, yknow? But..”

You play with the food on your plate a little, not quite able to look at him.

“But I did something really not okay with you. I.. I was forcing myself on you and you were clearly uncomfortable, right? I don’t even know what I was thinking.. I would never..” You start to apologize, but kind of struggle with how to put it. How can you even explain yourself for something like that? Isn’t it obvious?

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says gently, putting your nerves to rest with just one phrase as he puts his warm hand on yours. You look over at him to see him smiling fondly. How can he forgive you so easily?

“It wasn’t like that. I know you weren’t in the right headspace. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t.. do something you’d regret, yknow?” He explains like youre sure he said to you similarly last night. You ended up being regretful anyways, but you suppose this is best case scenario. You cant imagine if you had kept forcing yourself on him then, probably ruining your relationship forever. You’re thankful that your best friend is as sweet and forgiving as he is.

“Thank you.. I still think it was wrong though. I’ll make it up to you.” You promise him and go back to eating.

You don’t bring up the kiss at all. Even though you remember exactly what he told you last night.

“If you wake up tomorrow, when you’re sober, and you still want that first kiss.. I’ll do it.”

You believe him. You know he would, and it scares you. It scares you because you know you might not be able to control yourself if you open that door. Anything could happen after. You’re scared.

Yuta doesn’t bring it up for the same reason. And he doesn’t ask you about your reasonings or motives for why you did what you did that night either. Like why seeing some other girl almost kiss him made you so angry that you offered to take his first instead. No, even though his mind yearned for answers, he was also too scared to look for them. Afraid of what he might find or what trap he might set off.

So, neither of you bring it up. You act like it was all meaningless. Just drunk nonsense with no actual motive behind it.

But even so, that night ends up changing your relationship forever.

[steviewashere]

I am itching to write a frat boy Steve Harrington fic. Definitely modern day, no upside down, no supernatural elements. But not one where he desperately wants to leave it or he's being shunned by the other guys or where he feels like he doesn't fit in. Just one where he does stupid shit because it's funny to him.

He's got an estranged relationship with Tommy Hagan, another one of the frat boys. But they both ignite at the opportunity to get drunk, challenge each other to stupid bets (with no real reward), and party with people. Tommy's kind of a dick, but mostly a class clown kind of guy—doesn't do a whole lot of bullying, maybe some friendly teasing that sometimes goes a little too far (because he sucks at gauging his limit).

Steve's a reformed bully. He's learning to just sort of go with the flow, which is aided a lot by being loose and free and goofy and out-of-his-mind stupid at frat parties. He wants to meet as many different people as possible, maybe not become friends with all of them, but he wants to at least broaden his horizons.

He's buddies with a sorority girl named Nancy Wheeler (who also happens to be an ex-girlfriend, but that's water under the bridge), but she's not into partying—more into having a group of girls who want to see her succeed as a journalist (her sorority consists of her high school best friend, Barbara Holland, Tommy's girlfriend, Carol Perkins, a giddy cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, and a band geek who wants to be a conductor, Robin Buckley). I think he also becomes friends with Jonathan (although a bit reluctantly) through Nancy, and Argyle through Jonathan.

Steve becomes friends with Robin Buckley. Slowly, but surely. Adores her rambling conversations, which increase when she gets even the slightest bit tipsy with him (she never exceeds a few shots, and when he's with her, he doesn't drink more than that, either). She teases him without hurting his ego, unlike Tommy. He appreciates when she tells him that he's being a meathead, when he's out of his depth, when he's doing something even the slightest bit offensive. With her, he learns about his own sexuality (when she eventually comes out to him during a rather intense frat party—they had too much to drink this time, both loose-lipped and teetering). He learns to appreciate the more nerdy aspects of her, Nancy, and the rest of their sorority. Realizes he's more catty than he thought. Plays soccer with Robin on the weekends, though he sucks in comparison to when they play basketball together.

And through Robin, he meets somebody entirely new to him. Eddie Munson, a metalhead with a raspy voice and a cigarette addiction that Steve can get into, who charms in this weird flirtatious (though unintentional) teasing, who's beyond weird and dramatic, geeky with a touch of defensive. He's got a bite to him that Steve barks right back at, though never meanly. They get along like a house on fire, not a match, a house. Sure, sometimes they drink and party. But Eddie likes quieter things, despite his loud and boisterous personality. They smoke weed and sit on the roof and point out stars, or they talk for hours and hours until they both lose their voice, or they smoke and lay in the grass—absorbing one another's warmth without realizing.

It knocks Steve down, how much he learns to adore somebody like Eddie. Stirring something in him, something he's felt in his drunkest moments with Tommy. But with Eddie, he's completely sober. He's sober with intense emotion and want for a guy he's never expected to orbit around.

And, oddly enough, it's not Robin that tells him to go for it.

It's Tommy. He says something like, "Hey, we may not be best friends anymore, but I know what love looks like, man. And, y'know, considering all your past relationships, maybe it's time that you get something that makes you happy?" His voice is serious, unusually so. And Steve sort of clings to it, like a warm blanket on a camping trip. Tommy then adds something along the lines of, "Be stupid with me, Stevie-boy. Don't be stupid about your feelings. That gets you nowhere. And...I don't know this Eddie guy, not really, but there's something to him. Like a...one of those cloud things that Carol's always talking about—an aura? I could see him drawing you in before you had the chance to get his name."

Steve probably retorts with, "Shut up." And then blushes stupid about it. Because Tommy's never been wrong about these sort of things, no matter how much of an air cadet he can be. And he's also not wrong because when Robin first described to Steve who Eddie was, without giving a name initially, Steve was hooked like one of the fish he catches. (He goes on frat boy fishing trips and has a million photos in his phone of all the trout he's caught. Holds them up to the camera in that Straight Boy Way™️ (trademarked in case you can't see that on your dash), all proud as if the fish is his degree he's going out for.)

Also, I imagine that Steve goes to school to get a bachelor's degree in something like sports science? Or like physical education? Even something like family and human services?

So, line up of fields of study/options because now I want to come back to this:

-Nancy: Journalism -Robin: Music Education or Music Composition -Eddie: English or Music Production or Art -Steve: Sports Science or Physical Education or Family and Human Services -Tommy: Economics -Barb: English or Art History -Carol: Architecture -Chrissy: Special Education and American Sign Language (S.E. is typically a minor, but ASL is almost always a major) -Jonathan: Photography and Composition -Argyle: Neuroscience (I just feel it in my bones that he's like secretly crazy talented in sciences)

I can also think of some of the scenes being texting in group chats. And like with illustrations of Steve holding up his fish? God, my brain is on fire tonight.

[bonesandchalamet]

from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark

masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games

warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity

hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.

“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.

peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.

Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.

there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.

the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”

“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”

finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.

“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“

“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.

sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?

“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”

“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”

peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.

“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”

you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.

“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”

finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”

it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.

“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”

“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”

“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.

a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.

“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”

it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.

to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”

“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.

“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.

a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”

it was you. only you.

[ghoul-bonez]

~Your New Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: You had never had any intention to meet another Na’vi, nor did you expect to ever visit Neteyam’s clan, but when he asks you to come meet his family you can’t say no.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: PT 2!!! Very fun! Very excited! ENJOY! Thank you @eywas-heir for beta reading <3

~Last - Next~

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

Your New Home

Spending time with Neteyam was easy.

It was the calm within the eye of a hurricane, a time to relax between the chaos the forest brought to your life. He was calming to you, his presence, his energy, his voice, and as you laid on the soft grass of your meeting spot he would often tell you stories.

He would tell you many stories, one of your favorites being how he claimed his ikran. You were in awe of it, the way he did it being so different from you. All you had to do was call out and one of the many ikrans who had helped raise you would come to your rescue, scooping you up and taking you high above the ground. He had one, you had many.

It was so simple for you, a struggle for him. Many things were simple for you, and a struggle for him.

Meeting up with him was simple, you left your hunting for later in the day, leaving your den early in the morning, and returning late at night after a quick hunt, just enough for you and your palulukan mother.

Him meeting up with you was harder. He had to do his morning chores in a rush, meet up with his father, and figure out a lie for why he had to venture into the forest on his own. Most of the time it being hunting practice without distractions of other people. Then when he got back home he would rush to do his nightly chores so he could be ready in time for the clan’s dinner.

Hunting for you came so easy, it was natural, like you had been doing it your whole life, and he supposed you had. You were so in touch with your surroundings it took you maybe ten minutes to find a trail, ten more to track down the animal, and the takedown was quick, quicker than he had ever seen. It was a clean kill every single time, like it was so simple for you.

Hunting for him was easy enough, but not natural like it was for you. He was one of the best hunters in his clan, being a decorated Omaticaya warrior, but most of the time he took double the time it took you. His bow skills were sharp, he was taught by the best of the best, but somehow the best of the best could never match up with your self-taught skills.

You had been living in the forest your whole life, growing in the middle of it, never having a break. It has hardened you, taught you to survive. There was no true safety in the forest, nothing was promised to you, only vague messages telling you it would be okay.

Living in the forest would wear him down. He had grown up in the safety of his clan’s village. He had loved the forest ever since he was young, adventuring with Lo’ak and his other siblings, but at the end of the day he went back home to the safety of his village, surrounded by people sworn to protect and kelkus that protected him from the elements. The forest is too harsh for him.

He hates that you have to endure that. You deserve safety as much as he, or anyone, else does. You deserve to be warm and safe as storms pass overhead. You deserve to be happy and safe as you have a lazy day around the village, weaving or doing whatever you wish. You deserve to be full and safe after a meal, not having to worry about hunting for yourself every single day.

He wants you to be safe.

The only way he could think to do that was for you to live in the Omaticaya village, where he felt most safe. Where you would be protected and unbothered.

What he didn’t know was you felt plenty safe in the forest. You actually quite enjoyed the danger lurking throughout the shadows of the underbrush. You didn’t mind the rain outside your warm dry den. You didn’t mind sitting in the elements as you relaxed. You didn’t mind hunting every day.

The forest was calm today, or as calm as it could be. Birds chirped, ikrans screeched in the distance, a breeze blew through the trees, rustling the leaves, all of the background noises blended together into a quiet comforting buzz. The sun peeked through the trees, warm on your skin as you ran your hand over the grassy ground.

Neteyam was smiling down at you where you laid on the lush green grass, head in his lap, eyes up on his face, admiring the smile that you had once wanted to slap off of his face. He looked beautiful, ethereal, with the sun shining down around him.

You smiled as well, placing a hand on his face gently, feeling his soft skin like you loved so much. You breathed deeply, calm, as you listened to the sounds of the forest around you while you sat in silence with Neteyam.

Whenever you would first meet up in the morning you had silent time, a time where you didn’t have to focus on forming words, but instead got to bask in Neteyam’s presence. You could simply exist around each other, your gentle touches expressing anything you needed to say.

He carefully brushed some hair out of your face, still loose like it had always been, but less tangled than before. The softness of it when it was brushed out was surprising to you, but very welcomed. You felt pretty with your hair loose and untangled, dark and wavy as it fell down your back.

Neteyam smiled wider, humming, making a thinking face which made you giggle. He cleared his voice, like he always did when quiet time was over, and you prepared yourself for the conversation to come.

He spoke softly, quietly but loud enough for you to hear, “What story would you like to hear today?”

You cleared your throat too, humming, “Hm,” You thought, for a second, “Tell me about your home.” You paused for a second, adding on, “Please.” remembering your manners Neteyam had been desperately trying to teach you.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.” He was surprised, he hadn’t expected that to be your request, he had expected you to ask for the story of his Iknimaya or any of the folktales he had told you before.

You smiled, “It is. I have heard all of the other stories plenty of times before.” You explained, and that made enough sense to him.

Neteyam smiled, thinking about his home, “Well, it is nice enough. There are many kelkus scattered about, some bigger, some smaller, but all big enough for the families that live in them. They are warm and comfortable, nice to come home to at the end of the day. We are a very tightly knit community, everyone knows everyone. We have nightly community meals where everyone gets to mingle. I love it.”

“What about your family?” You asked curiously.

“My family is rather large, there are six of us. My mother and father lead the family, they make sure we are all safe and happy, even if they go overboard sometimes. Then there are my siblings. I have a brother and two sisters. My brother is a pain in the ass, he’s always getting into trouble, and won’t stop disobeying father. My sisters are Kiri and Tuk. Tuk is the youngest, she’s eight, and she’s a ball of energy. Kiri is more calm, and she loves animals and plants, and they seem to like her too. She is also adopted, much like you.”

From hearing about Kiri she seemed a lot like you, but maybe with less rough edges, adopted by her own kind and not a bunch of animals, but you were grateful for your animal family. You thought about her a bit more, deciding, “I like Kiri.”

He laughs, smiling “I thought you would.” He waits for you to say something before asking, “Do you have any more questions?”

You thought, concentration on your face, then you decided on something, curiosity overtaking you, “You have told me about roles in your clan before, so what do you do in the clan?”

“I am going to be the future Olo’eyktan when my father is ready to retire. My father says I will be a strong leader,” Neteyam smiled proudly, before focusing on you, “but I will need a Tsahík.” He tried to hint at his intent.

You didn’t get the hint, mumbling, “Oh…” You frowned. No future leader would want you by their side, but Neteyam took all this time to help you learn, and he said he loved you, you knew he loved you. What was he doing?

He frowned then, cradling your face in his warm hands, “What’s wrong yawne?” He did not intend to upset you, but clearly something he had said had hurt you. He did not want to hurt you.

You sighed, trying to smile convincingly, “Nothing. I am okay.” You hoped he would drop it, you were not ready to address it. Instead, you wanted to move on, maybe drop the whole conversation about his clan.

He sighs as well, still frowning, “I know something is wrong, but I will not push you.” He wanted to get to the bottom of it, but he knew even with all your time with him you were still skittish. He was worried you would scurry off, and leave him alone. Instead of pushing it he switched the topic, “I want you to come meet my family.” He offered.

“Oh…” You were shocked. You had never intended to meet his family, happy with learning little bits and pieces about them from him from time to time, but as you thought about it you wondered what it would be like to meet them, deciding, “I would love to.”

A serious look was on his face, but you could tell he was anxious, very anxious, “How about we go now…” His voice fades off, “If you are ready?” He proposes.

You frowned, “Won’t they be busy?” They sounded like busy people, his parents being the clan leaders, and you knew his siblings often went out on adventures.

“Not really,” He cracked a smile, giggling, “I kind of told everyone I would be bringing a visitor today…”

You were surprised, and let it show on your face, “And I was not going to hear about that until now?”

“It is supposed to be a surprise,” He rolled his eyes sarcastically, “but please?”

You hesitated, were you ready for this? You weren’t sure, and you wished you had more time to prepare, but you made up your mind, “Okay… let’s go.”

Neteyam smiled fondly at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “Thank you, tiyawn.”

“Mhm.” Was all you said, anxiety starting to gnaw at your stomach, butterflies inside, but instead of them fluttering around happily their wings beat hard, knocking all around.

You slowly sat up so that Neteyam could get up, and once he was and you hadn’t moved, feeling stuck to your spot, he reached his hand out, offering to pull you up.

He sighed, offering you a small smile, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” You reassured him, and tried to convince yourself you were ready.

The walk was short, you never knew Neteyam lived so close to your meeting place, or maybe it was longer than it seemed as you zoned out the whole walk, coming back to reality when Neteyam stopped and you slammed into his back. You apologized, and he reassured you it was okay.

You were going to be okay.

When you stepped out of the brush it was like all eyes around you focused in on you, and they had. There weren't many people, but they all looked in your direction, and it scared you. You found yourself feeling uncomfortable and skittish, maybe even a bit hostile as you glared back at the people, ready to scatter off if anything were to go wrong.

All of your thoughts, negative and positive, stopped when Neteyam reached out to you, wrapping an arm around you, and squeezing tightly enough to calm you a bit with his embrace. He quietly whispered, “It’s okay. You are okay.”

You tried to calm your breathing, “Teyam, they are staring at me.” You felt targeted, threatened, like they are waiting to pounce and hurt you, whether that is physically or verbally.

Neteyam knew they were just curious, they had never seen you before, and that was odd for them, to see another Omaticaya person, and looking the way you did with scars littering your skin. He tried to calm you, “They are just curious, I promise.”

“Okay…” You were not convinced, but tried to allow yourself to believe him.

“We are going to the Tsahík tent, to my grandmother. You will wait there, and I’m going to get my parents.”He informed you, “Think you can do that?” He asked, cautiously. He was willing to go about it another way if you were not comfortable with that plan.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself beforehand, “Yes, I think that will be okay.”

Neteyam smiled, “Good.”

The rest of the walk was silent as you kept your eyes down, focusing on the ground instead of the many onlookers studying you. People whispered between each other, asking questions that they would have to wait for the answers to.

“Who is she?”

“Where did she come from?”

“Why is Neteyam with her?”

“Why are they so close?”

You ignored the whispers, and soon enough you were entering a tent. As you looked around you there were plants hung on the walls drying, many pots and jars sitting on tables, rolled herbs and leaves everywhere, and a woman sitting in the middle working a mortar and pestle, grinding something up into a thick paste.

Neteyam smiled at the strange lady, greeting her, “Oel ngati kameie, grandmother, it is nice to see you.”

You realized she must be the Tsahík, dressed in her special clothes, most likely making a healing paste. You remember Neteyam teaching you about her, about the significance of her clothes, about her exceptional healing abilities, and how she communes with Eywa.

You quickly snapped back to yourself, zoning out once again, when her head turned to you, “Oel ngati kameie.” You greeted as well, remembering Neteyam telling you that was a customary greeting. It was polite, and you had manners.

She smiles calmly, and it calms you as well, “It is nice to see you too, grandson, and it is great to finally meet you (Y/n), Neteyam has told me so much about you.” You are shocked. You figured he had talked about you, but you didn’t expect it to be her, maybe his mother or siblings.

You pulled on a polite smile while you felt yourself crumbling, “It is nice to meet you too.” You didn’t have much else to say, you figured there was more you probably should, but nothing came to mind.

After greetings were done Neteyam took a deep breath, turning to you, “(Y/n), I’m going to get my parents okay?”

“Okay…” You were hesitant, not too excited to be left alone with a new person. You felt your body itching to run, to sprint off and never return, but you tried your best to hold yourself together.

Once Neteyam left you felt like you were going to cry. Your body and mind didn’t know what else to do besides break down. They were battling, your body wanted to run, but your mind wanted to stay. You wanted to stay, for him, and so you did, digging your feet into the ground and taking a deep breath.

“You are okay, I do not bite.” Mo’at smiled at you. She was trying to calm you down, being as calm and slow as possible in her movements.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, for what you weren’t quite sure, but you did anyway. Maybe it was because you were so uncomfortable, maybe it was because she could sense that.

Mo’at completely ignored your apology, pointing to a cushion you could sit on like she was currently. You carefully approached it, pulling it a few feet away on instinct, before sitting on it. It was comfortable, but something you were not sure of.

She hummed, speaking carefully, “Your connection with Eywa is extraordinary. It is like a piece of her is in you.” She told you, or you took it as a complement.

You were curious, about her, about how she communed with Eywa, “How can you tell?”

She just laughs quietly, to herself, not necessarily at you, but your ears lowered, “I am Tsahík, I know everything there is to do with the Great Mother.”

You frown, not quite understanding, asking, “Ah, okay. I have heard about Tsahík. You talk to Eywa, yes?”

“Yes,” She smiles at you, and you can see the anticipation in her eyes, she is waiting to tell you something, “and she has told me about you, shown me visions of a girl raised by the forest.”

You smiled this time, thinking about the forest, about your home, about your family, “She did raise me. She cares for me, she granted me a family, and a community that taught me to survive.”

Mo’at nodded her head, taking in your information, she had heard about how you were raised by the forest, but not by who in particular, “Ah, I see. Who is your family?”

You smiled, thinking about your family. Usually you wouldn’t be this open, but for some reason you felt you could open up to the woman, “I have a mother, and a sister, but my sister left recently. Now it is just me and my mom.”

Mo’at hums, “Hm, who is your mother?” She asks, digging a little deeper.

You hesitate, knowing that your raising was not traditional, but you decided to answer, “My mother is a palulukan, her name is Riir. I was raised by her, and the other animals of the forest.”

“Oh.” She paused, she looked slightly surprised, “You are very lucky Eywa granted you that.”

You smiled, nodding your head, “Yes, I am grateful to her.”

She stops, thinking, asking Eywa for guidance before continuing, when she got an answer from her she said, “I would like to teach you, do you know anything about healing?”

Thinking about whether you should do this or not, you shake your head, “No,” You pause, really thinking about this, you decide she might be able to teach you some valuable skills, “but I think it would be good to learn.”

She smiles, clapping her hands together, making you jump, “Good, I will teach you then.” She sets it in stone.

There is a beat of silence, comfort settling over you as you sign contently, getting a small break from the constant chaos since you had gotten there. You sit on your cushion, watching Mo’at as she goes about her business, studying her already, even before your lessons have started.

As soon as your heart rate had slowed to a normal state there was a knock on the doorway. Your ears swiveled in its direction first, your heart jumping up your throat, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Your head was quick to follow your ears after your body’s natural responses, wide eyes holding fear and apprehension in them.

You fought off your flight response, keeping yourself firmly where you were, but you were still ready to take off if the need arose. Your eyes were unfocused as you looked around, looking for some sort of safety, some semblance of your normal.

You couldn’t see anything through blurry eyes and you panicked, ready to stand and run. Then hands came to your shoulders, shaking you carefully, and that was the last straw. You thrashed out of the person’s hold, shooting to your feet, and when you realized the entrance to the tent was blocked by people you panicked more. A loud, aggressive, hiss erupted from you, and you watched as everyone flinched away.

You were stiff as a board, looking for any way out, but when you failed to find one you felt your body giving up. Your knees were weak, and you felt like you were going to collapse in a pile of tears, but before you could, arms wrapped around you. You flailed, squirming and thrashing to get away from them, but when they didn’t let you go you surrendered.

“(Y/n)...”The word was extremely muffled, but you could make out your name, focusing in a little more, “(Y/n) listen to me.” You were still on edge, but could now understand what was being said, “(Y/n), it’s okay. It’s just me. Just Neteyam.”

You let out a sigh, calming down a little as you realized it was him, “Neteyam…” When he was convinced you were done freaking out he let you go, “Thank you. I’m sorry.” You looked at him, then the ground as you apologized.

He carefully cradled your face in his hands, “It's okay. You’re okay.” He reassured you, “I brought someone to meet you.”

You turned to the people, embarrassed you had freaked out in front of them, remembering your manners you said, “Oel ngati kameie. I am so sorry.”

You looked at the people, examining them. They were older, obviously Neteyam’s parents, and you could definitely tell by his mother. They looked so alike. His father was intimidating, they both were, but his mother less so, seeming more at ease than her mate, a small smile on her face. His father’s face was hardened, but you could see the shock on his face that he was desperately trying to hide.

His mother addressed you first while his father watched on, “It is okay.” She smiled at you, before turning to Neteyam, “You picked a feisty one. She has a strong heart.”

“She’s something…” His father commented, he drifted off at the end, not sure what else to say.

“Ma Jake.” Neytiri hissed a warning, quiet enough for just him, and unfortunately you with your super focused hearing. You weren’t sure what he had meant, but now understood it was supposedly an insult of some sort. Before you could overthink it she spoke again, “I am Neytiri, my mate is Jake. We want to welcome you to the Omaticaya clan.”

“Thank you.” You replied simply, still not sure what to do.

You heard someone shout for Jake in the background and he flinched, hissing out “Shit.” Before turning to everyone, “I have to go, I am so sorry. I hope to see you again (Y/n).”

Neytiri looked like she was about to complain, but Jake took off before she could say anything to him, so instead she turned back to you and Neteyam, “Neteyam, I think your father will need your help. If it is okay with (Y/n) I can show her around the village.”

Neteyam turned to you, and you smiled, she reminded you so much of him, and you reassured him, “I think that would be okay. Go help your father Teyam.”

He nodded, smiling at you, “Okay yawne I will find you again as soon as possible.” He promised, taking your hands and kissing the backs of them.

You felt your cheeks warm up, blushing, “Okay tiyawn, see you later.”

After Neteyam ran off you smiled at Neytiri hoping it was friendly and didn’t show how anxious you were, “You are okay. I am not going to do anything.” She reassured you, smiling back, but more comfortably, “Let us go.” She said, offering you an arm to hold, before beginning to walk when you cautiously held onto her, but you had to admit it made you feel a bit better.

She explained what everything around you was, what different people were doing, and who a few important people were, like the group of elders watching you curiously as you passed with Neytiri.

As you weaved in and out of the kelkus around you Neytiri explained what you were doing there, “We are going to our home now, so you can meet Neteyam’s siblings. If they are too much call me, and I will come help.” She explained to you.

“Okay. Thank you.” You smiled at her, grateful for her offer, but a little worried about why she had said that. You hoped they would not be too much.

When you arrived someone was already waiting outside the kelku, a boy around you and Neteyam’s age. He looked like Jake, like Neteyam looked like Neytiri, so you put the pieces together that this must be his brother.

As soon as you were close enough the boy practically pounced on you, circling you and looking at you from every angle, looking for what Neteyam saw in you. You were odd, not what Neteyam would usually go for, not like what he had gone for in the past, and it didn’t matter to you, but to his brother it was puzzling.

He was about to say something, mouth already open, before Neytiri held her hand up, “Lo’ak go inside. She will join you when she is ready.”

Lo’ak’s shoulders slumped in defeat before he ducked inside, and you smiled at his disappointment before speaking to Neytiri, “He is a lot already.” You were a little unsure about him, but you would try talking to him.

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand like Neteyam does, “Yes, trust me I know.” She paused, and when you didn’t say anything she spoke again, “Take your time, step in when you are ready.”

You took a few deep breaths, calming yourself as much as possible, “I think I am ready. Thank you.” You expressed your gratitude to her before stepping inside.

When you got inside you were immediately bombarded by Lo’ak as he sprung up from where he was sitting dejected, “Hey! I’ve heard a lot about you, but Neteyam wouldn’t tell us your name. What’s your name?”

You were immediately overwhelmed, a little spooked by him springing up, immediately in your face, but you tried to answer his question, “(Y/n)... Neteyam gave it to me.”

He smiles sarcastically, “Awe, a little nickname. What’s your real name though?” He questions you, nearly pushing you to the edge.

You tried to reason with him, “You would not understand my real name…”

“What does that mean? I promise I could figure it out. You’ve gotta tell me!” He shouts enthusiastically, talking a mile a minute.

You were trying to figure out what he was saying, but he was just talking too fast, so you tried to let him know as simply as you could, “I’m sorry you’re speaking a little too fast, I am struggling to understand you…”

He gasped, realizing something, “Is Na’vi not your first language?”

“No.” You said, hesitantly, not sure what else to say.

“Oh…” He trailed off, thinking of what it was, but not coming up with anything, “ Well what is it?”

You stuttered out, struggling, “I- I’m, uh, not sure if I am ready to share that with you.”

He looked disappointed, and you were tempted to just tell him, “But you have to-” He was then cut off by a girl who you hadn’t even noticed was there, but was now standing up from her spot in the corner where she had been watching.

She scoffed at him, “Lo’ak, you skxawng, go away. She will talk with you when she is ready.” Scolding him, almost like you were sure Neytiri would.

“But-” He tried to protest, but she cut him off again.

She put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes, “Lo’ak, I am serious, buzz off.”

“Fine…” He huffed, walking away to only Eywa knows where, defeated.

The girl turns to you, smiling, “I’m sorry, he's an idiot.”

“It’s fine. He’s just…” You paused, looking for the right words, “A lot.”

“I’m Kiri.” She introduces herself, and you can feel something special about her. She feels like you in some way, she feels connected to you somehow, and that comforted you.

“I am (Y/n), but you already know that.” You giggled, letting loose with her unlike anyone else, something was just so comforting about her.

With her comforting vibes you were able to relax, making small conversation as you sat in the middle of the home. It was nice, and you allowed her in more than anyone else in the village so far. Telling her about your experiences up until now, and how you appreciated her listening. She had smiled, and reassured you that she would be there anytime you needed to talk.

As you finally got comfortable something spooked you once again, a little girl who rushed into the home like a tornado ready to take down anyone in it’s way, “Kiri!” A little voice shouts as a younger girl sprints through the doorway, clinging to Kiri, “Someone stole my toy!”

Kiri sighed, sending you an apologetic look as you tried to calm yourself once again, “It’s okay, Tuk. We will get it later.”

Tuk whined, turning around and finally noticing you. She gasped, “You’re so pretty.” She complimented, “Are you Neteyam’s mate?” She asked, putting two and two together.

You froze in surprise, trying to form a response, stuttering out, “Oh, um, not yet…”

Kiri sighed, placing her face in her hands, “Tuk! That is rude to ask.” She scolded the younger girl.

Tuk was a lot, much like her brother, but you appreciated her young innocence, “It is okay, she is just curious.” You admired her curiosity about you, introducing yourself, “I am (Y/n).”

The girl smiled widely at you, “I’m Tuk!”

You smiled back tightly, “It is nice to meet you Tuk.”

The girl was excited to meet you to say the least, and you were slightly uncomfortable with her energetic demeanor, but less so than Lo’ak as she typically asked less pushy questions. She was adorable as well, a bright smile on her adorable soft baby face. You decided you liked her, much like Kiri, but in different ways.

Eventually Neteyam was released from his duties and he found you back at his family’s kelku. He smiled softly when he saw you talking with Tuk, but he could tell you were getting overwhelmed, your social battery running out.

He knew you wouldn’t do it yourself so he excused you from the conversation, explaining to everyone that you had to go home before it got dark. You were grateful for that, getting tired, ready to go home to your mother palulukan and go to sleep.

You and him swiftly exited the village and began the trek back to your usual meeting spot where you could make your way home from. When you got there the overwhelmedness from the whole day overtook you, and all you could do was hug Neteyam and cry quietly in his arms.

He held you, allowing you to let it all out, whispering to you about how proud of you he was, how good you had done, how everyone had enjoyed meeting you, and that made you feel slightly better, but you were just so tired you couldn't process that.

When you were done crying it out he let go of the embrace, instead holding you by your shoulders out in front of him, “I love you.” He whispered to you, just for you, and he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, Teyam.” You smiled at him, kissing both of his cheeks. He smiled widely at that, and you could tell he was grateful for you as you were grateful for him.

You trudged your way home once you had parted ways, and when you arrived home you were surprised to find your mother palulukan had hunted today, giving you dinner when you got home. You gratefully ate, happy with the silence she gave you after the day you had.

When you were finished she was already peacefully asleep, and you cuddled up next to her, thinking about your day.

You had been on edge, anxious, skittish, the whole day, but overall you would call it a success. You had enjoyed meeting certain members of Neteyam’s family more than others, but overall you liked them.

You could see them being your family, in some ways, but they were truly Neteyam’s family, not yours. No matter how much you learned to love them they would never replace your family in the forest, the ones who raised you. They would never replace your palulukan mother.

Their clan was fine enough, their homes were nice and clean, probably safer than yours, but you would never trade your home for theirs. The forest would forever be your home, your first, your safety, but you could see yourself living there. You could see yourself living with Neteyam, your new home.

Word Bank:

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Palulukan (Thanator)

Omaticaya (Forest Na’vi)

Kelku (Omatikaya homes)

Iknimaya (Omatikaya rite of passage, claiming an ikran)

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Yawne (Beloved)

Tiyawn (Love)

“Oel ngati kameie.” (“I see you”, greeting)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)

Great Mother (Eywa)

Skxawng (Idiot, moron)

@xstarsmvxz @netedoongie @c-h-i-l

[randombush3]

Kinda miss Fleur and Alexia bickering 🫣 can I get a request a one short of them getting into a fight

sorry I took ages to do it - I've been trying to think of a scenario. I imagine that the dutch players have had a very miserable international window lol

[...]

I slam the door behind me. 

There are few things in life that cause me absolute devastation, but this week has been one of them. I’m tired, I’m angry, and, what’s worse, I’m resenting the fact that Alexia’s apartment is bright and happy. 

She smiles as she emerges from the bathroom, perhaps not hearing how I entered as I used my own key. 

I take it as smugness. (I want it to be smug.) 

“Hola, mi amor,” she says with caution, heading over to greet me after not seeing much of each other for the best part of a week. She must sense the tension because her smile dampens, victorious glow from winning fucking everything fading away. 

“Hey,” I mutter, tone clipped and curt and dripping with resentment. Alexia approaches, concern beginning to make her frown, reaching out gently to touch my arm. 

I jerk it away from her. 

For the briefest of moments, I feel a long-dead emotion: hatred. I loathe Spain’s success, am jealous of it, and it is not fair that it comes at my expense. Not when we are together, not when we are no longer enemies. 

It was easy to play against Alexia when I was her rival. I could tackle her freely and let my teammates foul her when she was too good to beat, able to watch on without remorse. Seeing her hit the grass brought about a vindictive, satisfied feeling, and I relished in it. 

Being her girlfriend is a lot harder, and it has been a while since I have had to play on a different team to her. It has been a while since we lost to Spain, but, just like they did in August, they have crushed our dreams once more. 

My dreams. 

The Olympics are more special to me than any other tournament, and will continue to be until the games are no longer valued in women’s football. They are my family’s history, the gateway into my relationship with my mum, and they are now out of my reach. 

I huff out a breath, struggling to contain my emotions. “We lost twice so we won’t be going.” I tell her what she already knows but she does not rub it in. “Jaimie is going to qualify.”

Alexia looks at me, piercing eyes seeing through the floodgates I have shut. She must realise that I have cried on the plane – maybe even that I hadn’t stopped crying since we played Germany, only reining it all in as I made my way up the stairs to her place.

“What do you want, Alexia?” I snap as she attempts to touch me again, blinking myself back into reality and hoping I don’t start to cry. 

Clearly, my wounds have not been nursed enough. 

Alexia recoils, hurt flashing across her features before she schools them into something harder. Her jaw clenches. Maybe she thinks I am being immature. “What’s wrong with you, Fleur?” she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. “I know you're upset….”

“Oh, like you care,” I retort, bristling at her words. “You seemed happy to run around with Jenni, celebrating your socks off!” 

Her eyes narrow, patience wearing thin. “Excuse me?” She doesn’t sound convinced that I am the real Fleur de Voss, looking me up and down to check I haven’t been replaced with someone else. 

“You clearly have let it get to you. Have you forgotten what it’s like to lose?” 

“Oh, of course,” she scoffs, “because that has never happened to me before. I was inconsolable after we lost the Champions League final; I didn’t come out of my room for–”

“Please, spare me the sob story.” I roll my eyes. “You’re on top of the world right now, Ale. Spain wins everything and you keep adding to your list of victories, crushing anyone who dares to get in your way. And the worst part is, you don’t even play! You don’t even play, and you act like you have done it single-handedly, with the biggest grin on your face–” 

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain?” She trembles with anger. She shouts, and she hasn’t meant to be the first to do that because she instantly steps back in regret. I may have flinched at the shock of her volume, but now I square my shoulders, daring her to fix my heartbreak. “Do you think it didn’t take all my willpower to not go over to you, to not comfort you, or hug you, or try to make you feel better? Do you think I wasn’t trying to get to you as soon as I could? Or that, in Sevilla, I didn’t look at flights to Germany so that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone?” She steps towards me. “I know how much going to Paris meant to you, to your family. Believe me, I heard what your mother said to you – even if my English isn’t that good.” 

“Your English is fine,” I mutter, instinctively destroying her stupid insecurity. 

“Fleur, how could you think I take pleasure in your losses? You know me better than that.” 

I shake my head, unable to quell the storm of emotions raging inside of me. “I feel like I don’t know anything right now,” I admit, hardly audible. 

I was going to the Olympics. I was sure of it. 

Jaimie and I were going together, and, although Mum competed for a different flag, we were going to follow in her footsteps; continuing her legacy because she promised me I would be good enough to do that. She promised us both, time and time again. 

She may have left us, but she was the one who wrangled me a spot in the Australian youth teams. She started my international career for me, and I was going to repay her by showing her it was worth it. 

What is it worth now?

“All I know is that I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s okay.” 

Suddenly, this is about more than just losing the Nations League and not qualifying for the Olympics. This is the fallout of the Ballon d’Or, and we both know it. Alexia seems to have seen this coming. 

“I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me,” she begins, though guilt courses through me because I know it would have been asking the impossible of her, “but I’m here now.”

[bambisnc]

college bf!eunseok who always accompanies you while you're cramming in the library right before exams; despite having finished his own studying weeks ago - he's just there to ensure that you're not all alone in your misery and have someone to vent to when you're feeling upset or just overall fed-up

college bf!eunseok who always has hair ties on his wrist for you (this is the hottest thing a guy can do fight me fr) and makes sure to keep a stash of whatever you could need - your favorite snacks, a couple of band-aids, lip balm - just in case, because he'd never want to be unprepared for anything; it's you after all..

college bf!eunseok who's always more than willing to drop you off to classes and greet you at the door after; w a gentle brush of his lips to your temple or a playful ruffle to your hair

college bf!eunseok who, whenever you're out to eat tgt, on noticing there's something on his plate that he thinks you'd like or something that he likes and wants to share w you, does not hesitate one bit to either straightaway move it to your plate or feed it to you right then + if there's something you don't like he's taking it off your hands right then and there (even if he isn't a huge fan of it either)

college bf!eunseok who always, always is fully focused on you. you know those times when you're in the middle of a group conversation and someone speaks over you? yeah, he's not letting that happen. either uno reverses the person by interrupting them or pulls you aside slightly just to hear what you had to say

college bf!eunseok who is a walking reminder alert - "have you had water yet love?" "you've studied enough for today; come out and touch grass w me now. we can get ice-cream if you want~" "it's 3 am. why're you still up." siiiighs

just,, college bf!eunseok <3

notes : mwah imma queue this/maybe somethign else bc im gonna be frfr gone till march middle-ish now </3 + [m.list]

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (2/5)

part 3 of Wish. Chapter 2: Dream's eldritch baby shower

--

Later on, Lucienne and Matthew put together a baby shower for Dream in the Dreaming. It’s very sweet. Hob invites Death, though by the time he does she seems to already know, he’s not sure how. Death brings Desire, Despair, and Delirium along with her, which Hob is a bit dubious about, but he can’t exactly tell Death what to do. Even Dream’s remade version of the Corinthian shows up, which Hob is even more dubious about.

They all meet in Fiddler’s Green, ostensibly to surprise Dream, though Hob tips him off beforehand because Dream doesn’t actually like being surprised very much. “Just pretend you weren’t expecting it,” Hob tells him. When they arrive, Dream doesn’t do a very good job of pretending, though he does seem touched. Lucienne catches Hob’s eye and gives him a little smile, and he realizes she was probably counting on him to do just that.

They set up on the grass under one of Fiddler’s Green’s large shade trees. For some unfathomable reason, the Corinthian is the one who brings cake. Hob doesn’t know who allowed him to be in charge of that.

Corinthian sets the cake on a picnic blanket. It looks extremely normal, which is only more unnerving.

“That doesn’t have eyes in it, does it?” Matthew asks skeptically from where he’s perched on Hob’s shoulder—presumably positioned there to keep Hob between himself and the Corinthian. Thanks for that, buddy.

“So what if it does?” says Corinthian. “It’s important for the baby to develop proper bloodlust.”

Seemingly unperturbed, Dream takes a slice and starts eating it with a tiny fork. Under the vanilla frosting, the cake is pure red. Hob hopes it’s just red velvet.

He’s too unnerved to eat any of it himself.

Despite the possibly cannibalistic cake, Hob is briefly hopeful that it might be a nice event. No one’s tried to kill each other in the first five minutes, so that’s a plus. Maybe things will actually be normal.

Then Desire sits down in the circle.

“Why are you here,” Dream says with open hostility, and Hob mentally braces himself.

Desire just grins at Dream toothily. “She takes after me,” they declare. “I can tell already. We may be enemies, dear brother, but I hold nothing but fondness for my little nibling. I will be Auntie and you cannot stop me.”

“Auntie?” repeats Dream with derision, but Desire does not seem put off.

“Indeed. I do believe we will be the best of friends.”

“Your influence can only be negative,” says Dream.

Desire waves a hand. “We all need negative influences in our lives. And you speak as if your influence will be any better.”

Dream’s mouth pops open in outrage, but Desire thrusts a gift into his hands. Not only did they bring a gift, Hob reflects, but it’s even wrapped. Babies make people so weird.

Dream looks at them suspiciously, then at the gift with even more suspicion, but carefully unpicks the wrapping.

Inside is a knitted baby blanket in the shape of a large red heart.

Dream stares at it while Desire grins at him. “For sweet dreams,” they say.

Hob thinks it’s meant to be at least somewhat mocking but it’s… kind of sweet, too? In Desire’s twisted way.

“Do not taunt me,” Dream says at last, glaring at Desire, and they roll their eyes.

“Can’t you accept one sincere expression of love?”

“Are you capable of sincerity?”

“Enough,” Death cuts in, and they both quiet. “I didn’t bring you to cause trouble,” she says to Desire.

“I’m not!”

Dream still looks suspicious, but when he looks down at the blanket in his hands again, Hob sees something soft flit briefly across his face. “If you are sincere,” he says, “then I thank you.”

Desire settles back, satisfied. Somehow, Hob actually believes that they genuinely want to be their child’s Auntie. He doesn’t know how that will turn out, though.

Dream sets the blanket in his lap. “Perhaps you should attend your own grandchildren before worrying about mine.”

Desire waves a hand. “Oh, we’re thick as thieves, don’t you worry. I gave Rose dating advice just the other day!”

Dream looks alarmed by that, as does Death, but before either of them can react, Delirium, who’s been bouncing in her seat, jumps forward and hands Dream her gift. “Open it! Open it open it!”

Her gift is not so much wrapped as it is… an immaterial swirling ball of sparkles. Dream takes it, and it hovers in his hands, then explodes in a shower of light.

Inside is a mobile hung with glittery fish, to put above the crib. Only it’s not really a mobile, because the fish aren’t actually attached to any wires. They just hover in the air, swimming around each other in mesmerizing circular patterns. Hob has to admit that even to his adult eyes, it’s… pretty hypnotizing. Almost trance-inducing.

“I made it!” Delirium says.

Unlike with Desire, Dream has no cutting words for Delirium. “Thank you, little sister,” he says solemnly. He sets it before him, and the fish dart up to spiral around his head, then return to their meditative spin. “You must come to visit, and set it above her crib.”

Delirium claps her hands in delight. “Babies have such fun imaginations!” she says. “Even I can feel them.” She throws her arms around Dream in a bear hug. He tolerates it in good humor, but Hob sees his tiny smile over her shoulder.

Everyone else has brought gifts for Dream too. He seems nervous about it, not being used to receiving nice things. Hob urges Lucienne to go next as he knows she’ll have been sensible about it—God only knows what Corinthian’s picked out. Hopefully just the bloody cake.

Lucienne gives Dream a newborn-sized onesie that says future librarian. Dream raises an eyebrow. “Claiming my daughter as your apprentice already?”

She smiles. “More an offer of babysitting.”

Lucienne is one of the few people in Dream’s vicinity that Hob thinks is actually capable of taking care of an infant. Everybody else in the Dreaming… he’s really not so sure.

“I thank you, Lucienne,” Dream says, and clasps her hands with a small, but warm smile.

Then Despair, who’s been keeping to herself so far, passes Dream a small package wrapped in newspaper. Inside is what seems to be a plastic teething toy shaped like her hook-and-ring sigil—though with the sharp hook suitably blunted.

Hob’s immediate first thought is will the baby even have teeth, which is insane and makes him wonder how prepared he actually is for any of this. But before he can ponder it more, Despair says, “When she is hurting, I can ease it.”

Hob’s been a bit leery of letting Despair near the baby to begin with. But from what Dream has said in the past, when she isn’t being pulled into her twin’s schemes Despair can be the kindest of the Endless. Hob is still wary of that form of kindness, especially when it comes to Dream himself. But he thinks perhaps he can see what Dream means.

Matthew gives Dream the book Quantum Physics for Babies, which he seems to have procured from a Waking world bookstore despite there most definitely being a copy in the Dreaming library somewhere. “Listen,” he says, “I gotta give the kid a better start in life than I had. Speaking of which, should we set up a college fund?”

“Hob can afford higher education,” Dream says placidly.

“Great,” Hob complains, “just put all the childcare costs on me, then.”

“S’what you get for knocking up a guy who’s got no money,” Matthew says, then immediately croaks in regret for having said that out loud, hopping several feet away from Dream.

Dream just gives him a look but doesn’t comment. It’s not like Matthew’s wrong, after all.

Fiddler’s Green crafts a flower crown of budding blossoms, and floats it down onto Dream’s head, which makes him smile faintly, touching the soft petals. Corinthian gives him a stuffed toy cat with a baby-sized knife stashed in the belly; apparently, it can be eviscerated endless times and will just repair itself. Hob had been expecting body parts so he can’t complain, really. An indestructible toy might actually come in handy.

Death doesn’t have a physical gift for Dream. Instead she leans in close to his side and whispers something in his ear. When she finishes speaking, Dream is close to tears. And Hob thinks he knows what she’s said.

It’s something he hadn’t even considered. Dream had said the baby wasn’t Endless, but Hob had still been assuming she was like, kind of Endless, some sort of ethereal nonhuman creature. To think he was wrong makes his stomach drop; he nearly grasps onto Dream’s arm for balance before the past few seconds catch up to him and he remembers what Death said. Presumably said. Christ, not even born and the baby’s already giving him a heart attack.

“I thank you, my sister,” Dream says, with more than his usual solemnity, clearly—to Hob’s eyes anyway—blinking those burgeoning tears back. Hob finds his hand and squeezes it, close to tears himself.

“You know I just want you to be happy, Dream,” Death says, cheery despite the heavy topic. Not so heavy for her, though, Hob supposes.

“I do.” Dream almost seems to believe it.

Then, Death hands him a package wrapped in brown paper. Dream reads the label, frowning. Then just stares at it, for at least a full minute.

“Dream?” Hob asks tentatively.

Dream picks open the wrapping on the package and opens the box. He lifts out a child’s art kit, finger paints and crayons and so on. He doesn’t say anything.

Desire looks pale. “Is that from—?”

“Brother!” Delirium squeals, and snatches not the gift itself, but the wrapping from Dream’s hands. She turns it over, lifts it above her head to look at the underside, tilting her head and frowning. “No address.”

“Where did you get this?” Dream demands of Death.

“It was left on the doorstep, so to speak,” Death says, then doesn’t elaborate further.

Hob almost doesn’t want to ask, given their reactions, but he’s dying with curiosity. “Who is it from, then?”

“Our brother,” Dream says. It might as well be a sentence to death for the way he intones it.

Oh. Hob has heard about this. Or at least, he’s heard Dream say there are seven Endless and then only talk about six. He’s heard the space around that name.

“He’s not coming, though,” says Despair, twisting the lank strands of her hair between her fingers.

“I don’t think so,” says Death.

“Why would he do this?” Desire demands. “If you’re gonna stay away then just stay away.”

“But family,” says Delirium. She’s still holding the crumpled gift wrapping in despondent hands.

Desire snorts. “What family?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Death says, defusing the argument. “Whatever they may be, he clearly wants to show he cares. I think we should leave it at that.”

Neither Desire nor Delirium look like they want to ‘leave it at that,’ but Delirium only fidgets nervously and Desire huffs, rolling their eyes, when Death casts them a look, but ultimately stays quiet. Meanwhile Dream has set the art kit down on the grass before him and is studying it, brow pinched. Hob rests a hand on his lower back.

“We will not solve the matter now,” Dream finally says.

The art kit vanishes, whisked away by dream sand to Dream’s chambers, or possibly deposited somewhere in Hob’s flat, it’s hard to be certain. Hob’s unsure whether it will make another appearance. Dream doesn’t seem like he’s quite ready to deal with that yet, and knowing him, their daughter will be as old as Hob before he is.

Gradually, the tension dissipates. Delirium folds the wrapping paper into a flower and tucks it behind her ear. Desire pulls the entire rest of the cake towards themself and starts picking at the frosting with their fingers. Despair joins in soon after.

Lucienne gathers herself and tries to rally them all. “Any other gifts?” she says.

“Hob’s gift! Hob’s gift!” Delirium chants.

Indeed, Hob is the only one left who hasn’t gone. Before he can even speak, Desire smiles slyly. “Hob doesn’t need a gift. He already gave Dream his sperm.”

“Desire!” Dream and Death say simultaneously.

“Wrow,” drawls Corinthian. “Let’s hear more about that.”

“Let’s not.” Lucienne glares at Corinthian. How she survives this on a daily basis, Hob really doesn’t know.

“Let’s not,” he agrees, and Corinthian grins at him with all three of his mouths. Hob shudders, but ignores the nightmare in favor of pulling a gift box from the fabric of the Dreaming.

He’s gotten better at manipulating the Dreaming. He’s pretty sure he even managed to hide his gift from Dream despite it being in the Dreaming the whole time and made of dream stuff.

Indeed, Dream takes the box, eyes widening in surprise as touch reveals its origins. He opens it and takes out a small rectangle, somewhat akin to a mobile phone in appearance. He tilts his head, studying it. Hob taps it, and the screen lights up, showing a camera view of the spare room in Hob’s flat they’d converted into a nursery.

“It’s a baby monitor,” he explains. “Has sound, too.”

Hob knows plenty well that, while he might be able to convince Dream to take some time off after the baby is born, Dream isn’t going to be able to just be with them all the time, even if he wants to. His job is too all-encompassing and too important. And Dream won’t complain about it, because he never does, but he will be sad about it, and he will worry about his baby when he’s not there. Hob just knows it.

Hence, the dream baby monitor that’s connected to the Waking world. Dream can, of course, look in on Hob via dreams if he needs to, or send Matthew to the Waking to be his eyes from afar, but he’s not omniscient, he can’t just know what’s going on in their flat. Except now he can.

“Getting it to connect to the one in my flat was the tricky bit, but I think I’ve managed it,” he says, and Dream turns to look at him.

“You made this?” he says.

Hob scratches the back of his neck. “Well, the Dreaming was inclined to help, I think.”

Lucienne is smiling. Death, too. Dream just keeps staring at him, perplexed, or surprised, Hob’s not sure.

He nudges Dream in the side. “I wanted you to be able to see her.”

“To see her,” Dream echoes. He looks again at the screen of the baby monitor. Touches the dream-glass with a light fingertip. His eyes shine, but he doesn’t cry—he never does in front of his subjects, and rarely does even in front of Hob. Hob rubs his back.

“Thank you,” Dream finally says, quietly, and tucks the baby monitor carefully into the inner infinity of his coat. “You have become quite adept at dreaming, it seems.”

Then he lifts Hob’s hand to his mouth and kisses his palm.

Delirium makes a squealing, cooing sound. So does Corinthian, but mockingly. Hob’s pretty sure he hears Desire gag.

But as usual, he only has eyes for Dream, and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumbing over the corner of his mouth. Dream’s eyes hold promises for later that needn’t be spoken in present company. But above all is the love there, the devotion, the promise that is the two of them. 

“Can we please open the wine now?” Desire begs, and the tension is broken, but Hob catches Dream’s gaze intermittently throughout the rest of the afternoon, and he knows what he sees there, subtle though it is. It’s happiness.

“He loved it,” Hob tells Lucienne later, when the group’s mostly dispersed.

She smiles, quietly pleased. “I know.”

[descendantsramblings]

How about a Hook x Gn! Reader where They are dating but reader is insecure nd jealous cause Hook always flirts with others and is so charming. The two argue about it and reader breaksdown (and maybe hook accidentally hurting reader with his hook mid fight)

I love Hook so much, it was so fun threatening him :)

Bloody Charming

James Hook x Reader

Pronouns used: they/them/theirs

Summary: It was just a job, how did it end up with his back to the wall?

Warnings: Arguing, blood mention,death mention, sexual references but it’s not smut or anywhere close, they do choke him but it’s in the proper way not in the violent way, Hook cuts the reader (accidentally), swearing, jealousy that leads into a touch of possessive behavior, reader has cat king-esque magic again because it's so fun for me, reader is taller than Hook (imagine not being taller than 5’5, couldn’t be me -they say standing at 5’6), this is so toxic idk what possessed me, Hook likes being choked ig (I literally don’t know what possessed me), I don’t think this is a dead dove do not eat situation but just in case it is here.

Word Count: 2.5K

His hook glides gently through a girl’s hair, the boy smirking at her as it does, “Well Lass, I’m sure you can understand why dear Uli would be mad about such a thing, can’t you?” She giggles, eyes batting up at him as if she didn’t know he was taken. Everyone knew about Hook and (Y/n), she had to know he just wanted to get his way, didn’t she? “Well, I guess I can. What do you think she’s willing to trade me for her to get it back?” Hook laughs, crossing his arms over his chest as he raises an eyebrow, “Now Lass, I don’t see any world where Uliana trades you anything to get her bottle of Kraken Powder. You took something from her, and now she wants it back. There’s no chance of getting a ransom on it.” Something flickers across her face, rising from her seat as she dangles the bottle between her fingers, “Oh come on Captain, I’m sure we can work something out.” His face never falters and if it didn’t have (Y/n)’s blood boiling they would almost find it admirable. James would make a great spy, or poker player. The boy had amazing control of his facial features. “I don’t think I’m in the position to take ransoms on someone else’s behalf. How about you give me that bottle and I let you leave without any of my friends leaving their little hiding spots, huh?”

This girl seems to take that as more of a challenge, snatching the container just out of the pirate’s reach as he goes for it. “How about you give me a kiss and I’ll give it back?” That has (Y/n) leaving their hiding spot just past the side of the courtyard wall, strolling across the grass. Who does she think she is? Talking to their boyfriend like that. “Like I said Lass, I’m not in the place to be taking ransoms.” She nearly whines, reaching out to play with the chain around his neck, “Oh come on, it’s not like I’m asking for much, just one little kiss. No one would have to know.” (Y/n) makes their way behind James as she says it, the shock of their appearance being just enough to make her drop the little bottle. He quickly reaches out and barely catches it, sliding the Kraken Powder into his coat pocket as a hand slinks around his shoulder from behind.

“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch it,” the grin on (Y/n)’s face as they say it is just barely holding back their aggression. She seems to know it too, shaking her head and backing away from the couple. Nearly running away, as if she was scared that the villain would just kill her then and there. Maybe they would, at least give her the prick of a thousand thorns. Though, walking the plank seems like it would do her more justice. Since she wants to play with pirates and all. “Yeah, what the fuck was that?” Their next words come as a growl in James’ ear, hand still planted harshly on his shoulder. “Just doing my job, Love.” “Oh yeah? And how far were you going to let her go to get your job done?” He sighs, drawing a hand up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Can we please not start something like this here? We’re in the courtyard, anyone could overhear.” With a snap, the two of them are standing in (Y/n)’s dorm, a playful smirk that barely hides their anger playing across their lips. “Okay, let’s do it here then, nice and private.” He knew that look in their eyes, anger that was thinly blanketed over insecurity. Uliana held it too; he even held it. But that doesn’t mean it looked good on his partner, especially when that look was aimed at him.

“Darling, you know I love you. I’d never let anything jeopardize that.” James is shaking their rough grip off his shoulder as he speaks. Had they ever touched him that aggressively? It’s not like this was that big a deal, he flirted to get his way all the time, there was no difference here, was there? Sure, he guesses they normally didn’t flirt right back but it’s not like he had any real interest in the girl. His heart sang for (Y/n), surely they knew that. “Okay,” and they laugh. This sick, twisted sound that should carry joy but was instead weighted to the ground with fury. “Then again, Hook, I’ll ask you: what the fuck was that?” Their lips are dripping venom, tone harsher than anything he’s ever heard come from them. And for what? Him doing what Uliana asked? Morgie would have done the same thing. It doesn’t make him a bad boyfriend, just a good villain.

“It was a job. I had it handled, the Kraken powder is back in the hands of villains and I am standing here notably unkissed. So let me ask you now, why does it matter?” His arms cross over his chest, glaring up at them with raised eyebrows. They would almost find the little attitude he took back against them charming, but Hook had used enough of his charm today. “Why does it matter?” Their brows raise too, another fiery and twisted laugh slipping off their tongue. “Yeah, why does it matter? It was just some harmless flirting. The job got done, that should be the fucking end of it.” (Y/n) scoffs, walking towards him with this look in their eye that had him backing up. That wasn’t insecurity anymore, he’d stepped on an exposed wire, struck a nerve that was never his to touch. He was in for it now, and maybe he deserved to be. Maybe it was a big deal.

“It matters because you’re mine, Hook. You are mine.” The last sentence comes out as if they were punctuating every word, eyes squinting as they put their arms out on either side of him. His back hits the wall, the face that normally looks at him in adoration towering over him in a rage, pinning him so he can’t get away from them. “I am,” he breathes, staring up at them as his heart pounds, “I am yours. I know that.” They dip down, nearly touching their nose to his. “Then why,” their voice is this sultry and slow hiss of a thing. Hook would find it extremely hot if it wasn’t directed at him. Incorrectly if you asked him, Hook was just doing a job, why couldn’t his partner get that? “Why were you letting that bitch put her hands all over what’s mine? Playing with your chain, were you gonna let her put her hands around your throat too? Huh, let her choke you while you kissed her?” A hand finds its way around his neck, gently squeezing it upwards, and James finds himself suddenly weak in the knees. It was hot, unbelievably mind-meltingly hot, how was he supposed to do anything with their hands on him and their lips this close? God he was so notably unkissed, how would they react if he just leaned up? He shakes his head, nearly whining as he stares up at them, “No. I wasn’t going to let her kiss me. I don’t want anyone’s lips but yours, Love.” “Liar.”

It makes his chest hurt, erupting this sense of fire through him as if they’d stabbed him and twisted the knife. James Hook was a lot of things. A villain, a pirate, a thief, a flirt, a boyfriend. But not once had he been a liar, not to them and not to his friends. He took pride on that fact, and by the gods above they knew that. How dare they? Suddenly this whole situation was significantly less hot. “You do not get to call me that. You know damn well I am not a liar.” His tone is just as fiery as theirs now, bucking up to them with a snarl on his lips. Now it was a real fight, they can work with that. “Yeah, Hook?” They back up, giving him space to fire back, he was just like the cannons on his ship and they had proudly lit the fuse. “Then why are you lying to me? We all know how badly you want to go back to it.” “Back to what? Some bitch who stole from us? I don’t even know her fucking name, (Y/n)!” He’s approaching them now, backing them up in the same way they’d done to him. And the villain is letting him, some odd sense of enjoyment on their face. Misery loves company, right? “No, the life of a flirt. Not that you ever left it, sure you might keep your hands to yourself but you still undress everyone you see with those big puppy dog eyes. I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh what, so I’m some big whore? I want you, if I didn’t I would have walked out of this room by now.” Their eyes flutter closed and that same sickening laugh slips from their lips, “Oh right, because that’s so easy to believe when you’re out here teasing anyone who looks at you. You love getting someone ready to drop to their knees, don’t play coy with me.” “God, it’s not real. The only real flirting I have ever done was to get you. I don’t want anyone ‘falling to their knees’ for me or whatever else you wanna call it. I want you, anything else is just an act. I only do it to make Uliana happy, I could care less for it.” “Yeah,” they scoff turning away from him, “Likely story, Hook.” They turn away from him, it didn’t matter if it was their room. They needed to leave, to go breathe. Find some air that wasn’t weighed down with the weight of this.

As they turn, he realizes what they’re doing. They were going to walk out on him again, to just leave and pretend nothing happened like they always do. Not this time, they do not get to just leave things open ended this time. He doesn’t think about it as his hooked hand shoots out, going to wrap the metal around a tender bicep like he had a million times before. But it’s different this time, this time (Y/n)’s arm moves. Flying up in the air as their mouth drops back open to say something else. He feels the tip of the metal dig into something, the sensation making his stomach churn. But instead of whatever it was they were going to say a whimper flies out instead. Arm jerking away from the sharpened edge of his hook, the golden metal coming back with a sickly scarlet sheen. They turn to him, eyes wide and jaw slack. Hook had done a lot of things, but he had never hurt them, not without them asking for it directly. What had he done? Oh, what had he done?

“I,” he starts but the words fall flat in his tongue. Eyes flickering over welled up tears and fear that was directed at him. “Love, I, fuck! I didn’t mean to.” They look down, blood dripping in a single thin stream down their arm. He cut them, actually sunk his hook into their flesh. Maybe he was right to be so scared of holding them with it, maybe they shouldn’t have told him they liked it. If they knew it would end up cutting them, maybe they wouldn’t have. “You didn’t mean to?” “No, God no. I was trying to grab you and I didn’t think you’d move. I just didn’t want you to leave me.” He’s pale as a ghost, staring wide eyed at the blood dripping down his lover’s arm. “God, Love, I didn’t mean to.” They take a deep breath and then, instead of tears or anger, they laugh. This musical relieved sort of sound that didn’t match anything he’d heard all day. Closer to their real laugh that he’d heard in so long, smiling and wiping tears with their good arm as their shoulders shake. Blood drips from their fingertips to the floor and they don’t seem to care. The splattered maroon dots on the hard wood would be a different time’s problem. The villain was too busy shaking with laughter to care about them.

“Darling?” “Give me,” they wheeze, trying to draw more air in, “Give me just a minute. I need to, god damn, I need to center my thoughts.” He nods, stepping towards them in this slow cautious way. As if he was a predator trying not to startle away his prey. Maybe he was, he had struck them like one. Even if it wasn’t intentional. Bloodshed was bloodshed, the intention didn’t matter. Oh god, the thought hits him like a ton of bricks to the chest. The intention didn’t matter. Their hand slides up to the cut, holding it until a purple shine seems to encapsulate both their hand and arm. When they pull away, they lift it up, letting him see that all that’s left is a thin scar. It was a short little thing, he’d barely snagged them. They were fine, the scar probably wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else. Good, that made the harsh pattering in his chest slow down as he looks at them. “Darling, I am so sorry.” They shrug, walking over to wrap their arms around his waist and draw him closer, “I’m all better.” “I am so incredibly sorry,” as if he’s a record stuck on a catch. Staring up at them with those big doe eyes filled with nothing but fear. Ego thrown to the side as he stares up at them. “I’m okay, baby. You didn’t mean it, you’re not one to lie to me. If you say that you didn’t mean it, then you didn’t mean it.”

He nods, leaning against their chest, “I’m sorry about the flirting too. I didn’t think you were bothered by it. I’ll uh,” he lets out a slow, shuttering breath, “I’ll talk to Uli. Tell her I can’t do it anymore.” “No it’s okay, James, it’s okay,” they stroke his hair softly as they speak, the boy’s body relaxing as they say his name. “It’s not okay, it bothers you. I already hurt you over it, that can’t happen again.” “And it won’t, I know you James, it won’t. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” He shrugs the motion only noticeable from the way he moves against them, “It’s okay.” “It’s not,” they pull away, softly grabbing his chin to make him look up at them, “It is most certainly not okay. I had my hands on you, I, god I had my hands on you. James, I am so sorry.” They drop him, stepping away from him like he’d just combust into flames. “It’s okay, I’m okay. Until you pissed me off it was kinda hot.” They shake their head, backing away from him until their back hits the door. “It was not hot, you could have been hurt. My hand was on your neck, what is wrong with me?” He follows them this time, hand reaching out for one of theirs, “Love, I am okay, it was kinda hot. Honestly, I think you should pin me against a wall with my throat in your hand more. Very villainous, very hot.” Despite his gentleness there’s a tone dripping off the pirate’s words that’s impossible to ignore. “Oh, of course, why wouldn’t you be into that?” And he’s laughing, reaching up for their jaw, “Now kiss me and let’s make up, huh, Darling?” They laugh, leaning down to his lips, they did like the sound of that.

[ultracrazy-trashpanda]

celebrations

Pairing: Finan x f!Reader

Summary:

The camp is celebrating a battle that you have won, and while they drink and dance together, you sit by a lake alone. Finan has some ideas of what you could do instead.

Warnings: SMUT - 18+ - oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, fingering, riding, unsafe sex + creampie :D (enjoy) - plus words such as "cunt" are used to descibe reader's private parts. No use of Y/N, only petnames

Word Count: roughly 1.8K (posted to ao3, too)

You have won a battle again. All the warriors are celebrating, feasting and dancing around the bonfire. You had enough of it a while ago, and now you are sitting by the lake alone. You said to yourself it would be only for a short while, but it is not going exactly that way. 

“Is everything alright with ya’?” you hear from behind. You hum as you look up at Finan, who has a jug of ale in his hand. 

“Oh, I’m fine, Finan, don’t worry. I just...wanted a little calm and quiet.” you smile at the Irishman. 

“Ya wouldn’t mind some company, would ya?” he asks, and he doesn’t sit down until you tell him that you don’t mind him being with you. “You don’t have anything else bothering you, right?” 

“Nothing’s bothering me.” apart from maybe seeing so many people happily together, like Uhtred and Gisela, Sihtric and his wife... 

“It seems like something does...” he nudges you a little, and it makes you smile a little. “You should be celebratin’! We won! Feast! Drink ale! Dance! Get yourself a man to hump!” you laugh at his last suggestion. 

“As if there were available men in camp who are not only caring about their own pleasure.” you take his cup and a sip of ale. You didn’t have the best past relationship with men, especially your late husband, who has put himself before you in every situation possible. 

“I know at least one.” he raises his brows suggestively. You stare into his eyes, your cheeks reddening. You know what he means, but you are not sure in yourself. 

“Well, I don’t think he would want to be with me.” you say, teasingly, with a small smile. 

“That is nonsense, half the camp wants to be with you.” he chuckles. “It is irritating...” he starts but doesn’t finish the sentence. 

“What is irritating?” you ask, now hiding away your smile. 

“Listening to them. With the urge to beat each of ‘em up, but I can’t, because we need the numbers.” he rolls his eyes again. 

“Well, none of them dare come close to me. I am sure what you hear are only words, and nothing more.” you say to him, your smile coming through. “Now, this one man you know...you sure he is in that half of the camp who wants to be with me?” you say cheekily, and you are not sure if he is catching on. 

“Oh, I am very sure.” he turns to you, only now realizing that you have been staring at him the whole time. “Very, very sure.” he says, his voice lowering as he leans slowly closer. “Darlin’...” 

“Yes?” you ask back as your noses are touching. 

“May I?” he asks, quietly, only for you to hear, although it is not like anyone else is nearby. 

 “You may.” you say, cupping his cheek as he leans in closer, capturing your lips with his. You giggle into it, his beard tickling you. He gets on his knees, and starts kissing down to your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin, making you moan. “Finan, please...” 

“How do you want it?” he murmurs between shaggy breaths. “Do you want to lay down, and I give you everything, or should I lay down and you take everything yourself?” 

“Both. One after the other.” you gasp a little, pulling him in for another kiss. He pushes you back, so you lay down in the soft grass, with him lying above you. For a few minutes, he is just laying on you, kissing you sweetly, letting you wrap your arms and legs around his body. He himself holds you tight, finally having you all for himself. He grinds down on you, and you feel him get harder through all the clothes. 

He starts kissing down your neck, setting your moans free again. With one hand, he unties your shirt, revealing only the top of your chest just yet, and kisses all over what bare skin he can find. What gets him a little frustrated, is that there are no more knots on your shirt, or buttons, and he doesn’t want to sit you up, as you just laid down. 

“How much do you like this shirt?” he asks. 

“It’s nothing special.” and as you say it, he rips it apart right in the middle, making you giggle a little at his eagerness. It didn’t surprise you at all. He is fast to attack one of your breasts, kissing you and sucking there, while massaging the other, earning more and more moans and whines from you. 

To his dismay, he has to lean away from you to remove the rest of your clothing. He is on his knees, looking down at your bare form. He has to stop for a moment, to keep his composure and keep it slow at the beginning. 

“Don’t you think...you are a little over dressed?” you ask, just before you would shudder from a breeze. Maybe the two of you didn’t think it all through. He gets up, grabbing you and carrying you away. 

“Don’t worry, my tent is nearby.” he says with a cheeky smile, watching out for the others so they don’t see the two of you. You giggle, hiding your face in his neck. He walks fast towards his tent, setting you down on his bed, where you are swallowed by the furs, and a sigh leaves your lips at the warmth. 

He takes off his own shirt, too, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. It is not the first time you have seen him shirtless, oh no, but this time, it is all for you. He looks deep into your eyes as he starts to untie his pants. 

“Ya like what ya see?” he asks, raising his chin a little. 

“I don’t know, I might have to take a closer look.” you sit up and help him to untie his pants, as he is struggling with it a little. He groans. “I really like what I see.” you smile up at him before laying back and watching him take the rest of his clothes off. Your eyes wander over his body, his muscles, his scars, his thick, hard cock. You swear, throwing your head back. 

He just chuckles at that, then crawls back onto the bed and above you. He smiles down at you as he moves to kiss your jaw, then your throat, and from then on down to your stomach... 

He has his hands on your hips gripping into your skin, but one slides down to feel how wet you are. You gasp a little, then moan as he circles your hole. He pushes a finger inside, not breaking eye contact with you as he does so, then another one. You moan louder with each thrust of his fingers. 

“Come on sweetheart, I can’t hear ya’.” he smirks, latching onto your pussy. 

“Fuck! Finan...” you let out, throwing your head back. 

He works you slowly, moaning at your taste. You sneak a hand into his hair, which makes him even more desperate. You stroke and pull his hair slightly, moving him where you most want him. A chill goes down your spine, and you shake in his arms, making him chuckle. 

“Finan...” 

“Let it out, darlin’.” he says against your skin, picking up his pace as he feels you getting closer to your peak. You curse and try to close your legs, locking him in place between your thighs. He moans, rolling his eyes out of pure pleasure. He feels like he just ascended into a heaven he will never get into. 

You are soon arching your back, reaching your high, crying out his name. You pant, feeling as your legs give out, with a hand over your lips. He is still licking up your folds, but he is much gentler than he was before. 

“Heavens...” you sigh. 

“That good, ha?” he crawls up to look down at you, some of your juices glistening in his beard. 

You smile then laugh. “Very good, yes. Very good.” you nod, trying to clean his beard, even though you think he looks really good like that. “Can’t wait to have you inside of me...” you say quietly, and he groans, hiding his face in the crook your neck and leaving kisses there. 

“The things you say, you filthy heathen...” you laugh as you push him away and down onto the bed. You straddle him, your wet cunt making contact with his hard cock. You feel him twitch as you slide your folds over his base. 

He sits up, grabbing into your hips. You are on your knees, doing your best to help him guide himself inside you. He kisses you gently, as he pushes inside. You let out a long moan, which he devours instantly. 

You lean away to look him in the eyes. Into his pretty, dark eyes. You smile, giving him a peck on the lips as you caress his cheeks. 

“So handsome...” you say with a grin on your face. 

“Says the most beautiful creature amongst all people.” he huffs out. “Ya have no idea, just how heavenly ya look. If someone said to me ya are an angel, I would believe them.” 

You chuckle. “Give me a minute and you will think of me differently.” 

He hums with a smile. “Perhaps ya are a devil in disguise?” 

You kiss him, moving your hips faster. “Perhaps.” you murmur between kisses. You grab his shoulders for leverage, as you start riding his cock even faster. 

“Oh, fuck...” he moans. He bucks up into you involuntarily, making you cry out his name. He kisses down to your neck and sucks, leaving red bruises all over your skin there. “Darlin’...” 

“Finan!” you cry out his name before you reach your peak again. Your cunt clenches around his cock, making him release his seed deep inside you. 

He holds you close as he rests his head on your shoulder, grabbing into your hips with a vice grip. You pant into his ear, giving him some featherlight kisses. He holds his own lips against your skin, not exactly kissing, but just keeping them there. 

You run your hand through his hair, tugging gently, encouraging him to look up at you. You peck his lips, and he smiles fondly at you. He pulls out and you groan, feeling as his seed flows out of you. He grabs a cloth and cleans both of you off. 

“Everything alright?” he asks as you lay down on the bed and he sits down next to you. 

“Yes, my love.” you smile. “Now, come and rest with me.” 

And he does, laying down next to you and enveloping you in his arms, almost instantly falling asleep next to you. 

The next morning, you let Finan sleep in, and you walk out of his tent, just to be greeted by the other three, who are joined by the hip. 

“I told you so.” says Osferth. Uhtred rolls his eyes and Sihtric tosses silver coins at his head. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sour summer

a/n: this is a prequel to my story the murder at evergreen university. if you haven’t yet, then i highly recommend you to go read that one first. 

summary: “were you really always this pretty?”

warnings: Ari Levinson x reader, smut, prequel to this story (so beware that it does contain some spoilers), childhood friends to lovers, neighbours, family friend!Ari, cop!Ari, shy!reader, virgin!reader, slight age gap (in my head reader is 18 and ari is in his mid 20's), pining, cheating, kissing, loss of virginity, corruption kink, size kink, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, manhandling

word count: 6301

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | evergreen university masterlist

After rifling through your closet from top to bottom, you finally gave up on the wild goose chase and stormed out of your room. 

“Hey mom?” you called out as you neared the kitchen, “have you seen my cardigan? The grey one with the-,” your whole body froze as you crossed the threshold and saw the unexpected figure leaning against the kitchen island, “oh my god…” 

“Y/n,” your mother smile, setting down her mug of amber tea, “look who stopped by for a visit,” gesturing to not only the accustomed visage of Mrs Levinson, who had always been more of an aunt to you than a next door neighbour with how tight-knit your families were, but more specifically focusing your attention on the other much more surprising visage that instantly made the sweater hunt become a task of the past. 

“Ari?” the warm sound of his name gushed out of you and spread over every inch of your form, causing goosebumps to erupt as your eyes raked across his brawny figure, “what are you doing here?” you darted to steal a hug, nearly tripping his bulky frame over in the process. 

Curiously, he too seemed taken aback by your appearance, almost as if he hadn’t quite recognised you till your mom had called you by your name. 

Completely stunned, it took a moment before his tree trunk-like arms hesitantly enclosed around your form, “Y/n?” you pulled back and took in his speechless expression, “um, hi,” he exhaled hazily, vibrant eyes dancing over every change that had appeared since you last saw each other. 

“You could have called first,” you light-heartedly shoved his broad chest, his warm palms still glued to your waist, “give a girl some warning.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled in return, “I didn’t know going home to visit my own parents required an official warning or something.”

“Sweetie,” your mom ripped your attention back to the task at hand, “I think you might have left that cardigan out back.”

“Oh, thanks!” you smiled before snatching up one of Ari’s hands and stealing him with you. His palm felt so big in yours, so warm and wide, engulfing yours completely. Dragging him along, you quickly became thankful that he couldn’t spot the flush the buzzing contact caused to erupt across your cheeks. “So,” you hesitantly let go as your toes touched the freshly cut blades of grass, “how have you been?”

Sucking in a much-needed breath, he answered, “I’ve been fine, I’ve been good.”

“Arrested a lot of criminals lately? Anything cool? A serial killer maybe?” you asked excitedly as your eyes scanned the garden, searching everywhere from the raised patio to the majestic oak in the bottom corner that accommodated a treehouse worthy of any child’s dream. 

“No, no,” he chortled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “no serial killers, just everyday boring stuff, you know…”

A giddy squeal emitted from your lungs as you finally spotted the lightweight, crumbled, grey knit draped over one of the white chairs slotted to the oblong patio table.

“So, what about you, huh?” Ari asked as you sloppily tied the cardigan around your hips, the rays of sun kissing your exposed skin warmed you up enough not to need it out here. 

“Have I arrested any serial killers lately?” you jested. 

“No,” he smiled, “what’s new with you?”

“Well, my mom properly already told you,” a bubble of excitement tickled your belly at the news, “but I got into Evergreen University.”

“No way, really?” he exclaimed, both of you naturally shifting to continue the conversation seated. 

“Yeah, I start in a little under two months.”

“Is it still psychology that you wanna study or has that changed?” 

“No, it’s still that,” his recollection caused your smile to grow, though in that moment it also dawned on you how intensely he was staring, absorbing every micro change to your features, and heat began to rise in your cheeks, “what?”

Not halting his vision’s lavish journey, he hummed, “huh?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s just-…” his words came out sounding spellbound, “did you always look like this?”

“Um…” you genuinely thought about it a moment, scrambling your brain for a logical answer, “I got a haircut about a month ago, maybe that’s it?” 

“No,” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his piercing gaze carried on, “it’s definitely not that…”

Positively flustered, you awkwardly changed the subject, “so, uh, do you maybe wanna do something fun while you're home?” shifting in your seat as you proposed, “we could go to the beach or something, like we used to.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” he uttered genuinely.  

“Cool,” you gracelessly nodded.  

Your attention directed to the fluffy, sheep-like clouds got swept away as a figure appeared in the window opposing to the one in your bedroom. All of the air escaped your lungs as your eyes did a double take on the glistening visage closing the bathroom door behind him into his own childhood room. 

To say that you were pleased that your childhood crush had returned was an understatement, to say the least. 

Fresh out of the shower, there he emerged. White towel wrapped low around his hips, you could almost make out the water droplets still clinging to his brawny back as he yanked open a few drawers in his dresser in search of a crisp set of clothing. 

Cursing softly underneath your breath, your jaw hit the floor as he, with his back still turned to you, let the towel fall before stepping into a pair of black boxers. Rotating gently as he tugged the underwear up into place, you swore you saw just the hint of the part of him that made your centre throb most of all, though you had to lean on your overactive imagination to fill out the rest of the masterpiece. 

Dreamy head cocked to the side as you peep, it took you a second to realise that he was now facing the window, facing you. Not taking a moment to even check if he actually had spotted you, your knees instinctually buckled and sent you soaring down towards the floor, your hands just narrowly catching onto the windowsill for support. 

“Hey, honey?” the voice of your mother shot through the house to find your flushed ears, “can you give me a hand setting the table? The Levinsons will be over in a bit!”

“Y-yeah! Yeah!” you shakily replied, cautiously unfurling from the tense ball you had become underneath your window, “I’ll be right there!” 

Mild evening air rustling your hair, you dangled your sandal-clad feet over the edge of the slim deck area that wrapped around the western side of the treehouse. With a part of the fence safely slotted in between your thighs, your eyes were busy raking across the blushing skies that stretched over your neighbourhood as a voice from below suddenly caught your attention. 

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” your vision flickered down to spot Ari at the base, ready with one hand on the sturdy ladder, the other one dexterously balanced two frosty cones as he offered, “might I interest you in some ice cream?”

The sinful peepshow you had caught earlier that day had made casually sitting across from him at dinner rather overwhelming, both your families' presents not helping to make it less awkward. So as soon as you’d scarfed down your last bite, you excused yourself and ducked up into the treehouse, in hopes of a chance to finally cool down.

“How is that even a question?” you called down, watching as he carefully made his way up the tree. 

“Okay,” he exhaled as he settled in beside you, his warm leg ghosting against your own and causing goosebumps to erupt underneath your dress, “so, I’ve got one strawberry and one that’s-,” you didn’t need an introduction to deduct that the other one was exactly the rich chocolate one you always gravitated towards. Snatching it up with an eager squeal before he could even get the words out, he simply laughed, “oh, you’re just going right for it. I don’t know why I even bothered to offer you a choice,” watching as you hummed in delight, the frosty treat being just what you had wanted. Having a nibble at his own, he twisted his torso slightly and took in the familiar playground, “man… this place really hasn’t changed one bit.”

Peaking over your shoulder as well, you shrugged, “of course not,” his attention jaggedly returned to you as your tongue swiped out to lap up the coco droplets already melting down your hand, “this is our place, remember?” 

“Yeah, I remember,” he uttered distantly, a warm smile blooming on his lips at the memories of the favoured game back when he used to babysit you, “our little kingdom. What was the name of it again?”

“Uh, it was-, it was…” you scrambled your brain with no success, “I actually don’t remember anymore,” you squinted back at him, too wrapped up in your own thought to feel your ice cream melt further down your forearm, “I feel like it might have started with an E or something?” eyes growing wide, your body suddenly froze up as Ari’s forefinger unexpectedly reached out and swiped up the thawed treat, cleaning the milky streek and bringing it back up to his own lips. “D-do you want a taste?” you blinked, chest heaving as you hesitantly offered your flavour, his intense gaze melting you faster than the ice cream could even keep up with. 

Eyes locked on you, he uttered, “I still can’t believe you haven’t got yourself a boyfriend.”

“What?” you giggled breathily, the subject haven come up rather quickly after his yearned for return. 

“I mean, look at you,” you felt your palm grow clammy around the cold cone at his affectionate words, “were you really always this pretty?”

Your face surely resembling a tomato at this point, you averted your gaze, “I literally have ice cream all over myself.”

“Y/n, you’re-…” your eyes flickered back up to meet his dusky ones, “it’s just insane to me that there isn’t a line from here till Timbuktu of people trying to get with you.” 

Utterly stunned, you found yourself suddenly leaning in, letting the overwhelming high his compliments infused in you push you to press your lips against his own in a chased and timid kiss. Reeling back practically as soon as there was even a fraction of contact, a storm swiftly assaulted your mind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, fighting the urge to scream at your own hormonal instincts getting the best of you, “please just forget that ever-” 

But your mortified apology was hastily cut short as you felt Ari’s free hand find the back of your head and lead it back towards him for a ravenous kiss. It felt like he had just flipped your world upside down, twisted everything you thought was wrong into the truth. In your eyes, there hadn’t ever been anyone but him. Not that you hadn’t tried after he moved away, you had, but no boy you stumbled upon could ever compare to how he made you feel. 

Or how he used to make you feel, because what was coursing through your body now was nothing like you’d ever felt. A kiss had never been so sweet, so hypnotic, so dangerous…

Sensing the cone of ice cream fall from your slackened grasp, the dull sound of it spattering against the grass below ceased to reach your ears. Like a man starved, Ari’s tongue met yours in a flowing dance, your arms timidly coming up to drape around his neck for support as he too tossed his pink ice cream without a care in the world. 

Arms around your form, wide palms nearly burning through the material of your thin dress, he then tipped the both of you to the side, sending you farther away from the edge and further inside the interior of the cosy treehouse. 

Even sprawled out on your sides, his lips never ceased, staying glued to yours in the heated make-out as if it was oxygen to him. Gripping you tight, his broad palms felt you up, causing your toes to curl in your sandals and a muffled moan to vibrate against his lips, a sound that only kindled his inner flame that much further.

In one smooth motion, he rotated your tangled forms, rolling on top of you and with a firm grip at your bottom, just shy beneath your dress, hauled your shorter form further up beneath his, allowing your lips to remain at an equivalent height. 

Fingers digging into your thighs, you clenched them tightly around his hips, lending you to feel even more of the palpable tent that had been so intoxicatingly nudging at your pantie-clad centre, your flowy dress haven already ridden all the way up and granting you to feel that much more.

Mind already two steps ahead of yours, his hips rolled against your own, both of your elated noises melting into one. 

Nevertheless, right as his fingers tore one of your straps down your shoulder, a matronly voice called out from the garden below, “hey, Ari? Hon?” both of you froze up at his mother’s shout, effectively rousing you from your fever dream, “your phone is ringing.”

Breathless, you both blinked back at each other as he mustered an answer, “alright,” his voice thick and his eyes still dark, “I’ll be right down.” 

How were you ever going to fall asleep? Every single molecule in your body still buzzed of the adrenaline from what had transpired earlier that evening. 

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror that hung on the wall, you couldn’t help but giggle as you still felt your lips tingle in remembrance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a light flicker on in the neighbouring window parallel to your own. Your breath hitched as you spotted your childhood crush already gazing back at you. 

Raising your hand, you offered him a small wave, one which he swiftly mirrored, the silly notion conjuring a noticeable chuckle to rumble within his chest. 

You still weren’t fully convinced that it had actually happened. Not only had you kissed him, but he had actually kissed you back in such a manner that it was sure to erase any form of doubt about what his intentions might be.

Averting your gaze for what only felt like a moment, your head light-heartedly shaking in disbelief as you blinked down at your nightgown, the material bunched up at your thighs as you sat on the bed, the next thing you knew, the sound of a pebble hitting your window caught your attention. 

Had he climbed out of his own window? Went through a door? You couldn’t tell, because all you could focus on was the dimly lit visage of him coming to rest his folded arms against your windowsill. 

Getting up, you hastily worked at pushing it open, “h-hi,” you giggled nervously, a hand swiftly shooting up to muffle your laugh. 

“Hi,” he smiled, readjusting his grip on the ledge, “can I come in?”

“You wanna come in?” your eyebrows briefly shot up before you attempted a nonchalant, “y-yeah, sure,” your heart hammering against your ribcage at an impossible speed.

Expecting him to walk around to the front door and sneak his way in, he instead just pulled himself up and crawled directly into your room. 

“Hey,” he breathed as he found his footing.

“Hello,” you chuckled back, “you already said that. How many times do you plan on greeting me tonight?”

“As many times as you want me to,” he smirked, carefully catching your hands in his and consequently making your breathing become a little more difficult to manage with such dizzying contact. Staring down at your conjoined palms, he then weaved his fingers with yours and spoke frankly, “so, about earlier…”

“Yeah?” you breathed, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. 

“That was-…” he cut his own sentence off with a long exhale, a fuzzy smile overtaking his features, his head lightly shaking as his eyes finally lifted to meet yours. 

Biting down on your bottom lip, you hoped that you had caught on to the unspoken message, “…it was?” 

Vision flickering down to your bitten lips, he nodded softly and confirmed, “it was,” though the kiss he then pulled you into was really what sealed the deal for your youthful brain. 

“This is crazy,” you managed to utter between hungry pecks. 

“Too crazy?” he pulled back a bit, hands rooted on either side of your head. 

“No, just-…” you felt in that moment as if you could faint, “you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this…”

“Oh, yeah?” he breathed out a smile before softly capturing your lips once more. 

With your hands rooted tightly in his shirt, his hot skin burned through the light cotton, “is this really happening?”

“What do you think is happening?” he challenged playfully, his hands descending, running down your spine. 

“Are we really about to-, you know…” you uttered nervously.  

“Only if you want us to,” he replied, only for your heightened nerves to finally sink in, “wait, have you not-…” cheeks burning up, you shyly shook your head, “ever?”

“No…” you confessed, an automatic, “I’m sorry…” swiftly leaving your timid lips. 

“No, no, that’s alright, that’s okay,” he rushed to reassure you, a hand flying up to cup your flush cheek. 

Searching his eyes in the moonlight, “you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t mind?” your brows furrowed, doubting his unexpectedly copious comfort. 

Attempting to hide a smirk, he disclosed, “actually find it really hot, so no, Y/n, I don’t mind.”

“Oh…” you breathed, eyes growing wide, “okay.”

Watching you gingerly, he checked once more, “but, you do want to?”

“Yes,” the reply flew from your lungs out of fear that he would take it back, “please.”

“Okay,” he smiled softly, pulling you back in, “but please promise that you will tell me if you’ve had enough, wanna slow down, pause, anything,” eyes flickering up to the corner of the ceiling to list off, “kick, scream, whisper, I don’t care how, just let me know, okay?”

Letting your actions do the talking, you reached up and tugged him down to seal it with a kiss, “okay,” you eventually smiled against his own. After stealing a few additional propitious pecks, your hands trekked down his torso, feeling his muscles flex beneath your travelling touch as they eventually came to a halt at the bottom of his shirt, your fingers weaving in the fabric before you pulled back to ask softly, “may I?”

A gentle chuckle fanned out across your features as he promptly raised his arms up enough for you to tug the soft cotton over his head. It was in no way the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it sure felt like it as the shirt hazily drop from your fingers at the breathtaking sight. 

Running his palms reassuringly down your upper arms, your eyes then flickered between his own and the belt he wore, asking him for permission with your glances. 

When his pants hit the floor, so did your jaw, a reaction in which he couldn’t help but smugly flourish in, your eyes glued to the intimidating tent tight within his black boxers, he adoringly plucked up your speechless face and softened the blow with a kiss that took your breath away.

His lips then began to wander, over your jaw, down your neck, and when your heavy lids blinked open, you saw his towering presence begin to shrink down onto his knees before you. Fingers tightly fisting the flowy fabric of your nightgown, he nuzzled his face into your softness on his slow descent, practically growling as he gently nipped at your covered boobs, inhaling your scent in deeply as his fingers came up to lightly teased the pebbly nipples poking him through the material. 

Slowly exploring your form over your clothes, gazing up at you with his soulful eyes, he soon settled on his knees. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he slowly began to plant fluttering pecks all across your exposed thighs, his palms likewise gently caressing your legs. The comforting contact of his slowly ascending touch soon found the hem of your nightgown, gradually lifting it up and granting his lips the access to dance up towards your hips, the kisses occasionally coming dangerously close to soaked panties, though never quite meeting either. 

Leaning back, one hand held up your sleepwear as he took in the sight of what effect he had on you. Dragging his other over your goosebump-ridden flesh, he then boldly slid a few of the fingers under the strip of your underwear that stretched over your left hip, securely hooking them there before extending his broad thumb and swiping it over the wet patch adoring your panties. 

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he asked huskily as your brows knitted together at the pleasure of his teasingly grazing your covered clit, your wayward arms curling up against your chest, unintentionally pressing your tits together for him. 

“N-no,” your breath hitched, eyes fighting to stay open. 

Leaning forward, he placed a gentle peck over your covered slit, your pussy throbbing beneath his kiss as he glanced up to gauge your reaction, “is it okay?” his hot breath fanned across your centre. 

Finding it impossible to speak when he flashed you that look, you simply nodded eagerly and whimpered as his thumb pressed down harder, rolling your swollen pearl over the soaked cotton. 

Growing impatient, though also fearing that he’d make you cum before any of your clothing came off, you fervently lowered your fingers and began to tug your underwear down, Ari swiftly catching on and finishing the job himself.

“Fuck,” he stared, the sight nearly knocking the wind out of him, “you’re incredible…” 

Nerves still growing under his adoring gaze, you found yourself promptly pulling his physique back up, tugging him close enough for your lips to crash against his own out of hope that it could soothe your understandable tensions. 

Fingers still tangled in your nightgown, palming you hungrily through it as your lips ravaged each other’s, your bodies were so close that you nearly climbed him like a tree, though as you then momentarily parted for a breath of much-needed air, he impatiently yanked the shift up over your head and tossed it to the floor where most of his clothing lied in a crumbled pile. 

Plucking you up with surprising ease, you felt as your core soaked his bulge on the short journey to your bed. Cradling you against him as he sat down on the edge, his tongue danced over yours as you settled on his lap, the light night breeze, blowing through the still open window, washed over your nude body, though the mild summer air wasn’t to blame for the shiver that ran down you spine. 

Giving your tits a needy squeeze, he then murmured, “I feel like my eyes have been closed my whole life,” a hushed moan rushed out of him as you rocked your centre against his, the hardness so deliciously nudging against you, “how have I not seen that you’ve been right under my nose this whole time?”

“I was just a kid,” you stated, threading your fingers in his hair, “we both were.”

“Yeah, well you’re sure as fuck not that anymore,” he snaked a hand down between your tangled forms, sighing longingly as your abundant arousal soaked his fingers. “Has no one really ever touched you here before?” he asked you brashly as he strummed your clit, “not even just a little bit?”

“No, never anywhere,” your nose bumped against his, “only ever kissed, but it never felt like this,” your lips grazed his once more, pointing out the spark. 

A sharp gasp left your body as Ari’s middle finger breached your trembling opening after teasingly nudging it for what felt like an eternity. Already being agonisingly fired up before your clothes even hit the floor, now that you felt his thick digit tenderly pumping inside of you, working you up for more of his fingers, as well as his hot breath tickling the rabid pulse clear on your neck, it seemed like an impossible task to stop the crash that was about to transpire.

Broad thumb steady on your puffy clit, he just managed to slide his ring finger in beside the other before your world came tumbling down around you.

Crumbling down, your face nuzzled into his sturdy shoulder as your pussy clenched onto his now motionless fingers for dear life. With his free hand gently stroking up and down your back, he breathed, “you wanna keep going or was that enough?” tilting his chin to plant a soothing peck on your hairline as you regained your breath. 

“More,” your hazy voice vibrated against his skin, “I wanna feel you, I wanna feel all of you.”

“Well, you should probably know that I don’t have any condoms with me,” he reluctantly informed you, “so we can still do a lot of fun stuff, but we properly shouldn’t do everything-,” the rest of his sentence then crumbled as you hastily jumped up and yanked open the small drawer in your bedside table, “what are you doing?”

Pushing aside the books you used as a cover, you picked up a slim, flashy box containing the lacking item in question and showed it to him, “one of my friends gave it to me as a joke for my last birthday,” you explained in an adorably timid manner.

Blinking back at you, he then let out a genuine laugh, the warm and relieved sound rumbling within the room as you felt the sensation of your juices running down your inner thighs.

“You’re so amazing, you know that right?” he bubbled, pulling you back into his arms and capturing your lips in an adoring kiss. 

Hooking the tips of your fingers in the waistband of his boxers as you kissed him back, it took you a second to muster up the courage to tug them off. Peeking down, you swiftly let out a breathy, “oh my god,” as you watched his intimidating girth spring out. Blinking up at him with wide eyes, then back down again, he attempted to swipe the small box from your hands, but you wouldn’t let him, determined to try yourself.  

“You’re not gonna hurt me, baby,” he poked fun at how feathery and careful your touch was as you gingerly rolled the latex on. Gentle pride blossomed on your face in the form of a smile as you successfully finished the task, Ari then promptly scooted you both back further onto the mattress, a manoeuvre that caused your torso to drop down, your back melting into the mattress from the way he had manhandled you into place. 

Resting on his knees with your legs draped over each of his thick thighs, he smiled down at your molten form and yanked your hips closer, “come here,” he uttered hoarsely over the giggle the rollercoaster of a move triggered within you, although the laugh quickly faded away as the hefty weight of his dick in his hand came down to tap your puffy clit.

Watching with heavy lids as a dollop of spit dropped from his lips and down upon your already sodden folds, he then lavishly spread it around your pussy with his hard length, coating the excess over himself. Fucking your petals, parting the mess, and nudging your clit till you were wiggling out of your skin, his hands then slid under your spine and pulled you back up into his lap. 

Hugging your arms around his neck, your eyes never left his as you gently lifted yourself up, one of his burly forearms swiftly scooping under your bottom in support as he dragged the flush head of his cock through your dripping heat, your forehead dropping down against his at the buzzing bliss. 

So slowly that it felt as if time had stopped itself, you sank down, gasping as only the tip stretched you out. 

“Shit,” he uttered quietly, fingertips digging into your ass to control himself from not just slamming you down all the way. Forgetting how to breathe, overwhelmed by what little you had received, by what little you felt brave enough to conquer, you gazed back at him as he whispered, “you feel so good…” sensing your pussy clench around his vast girth at his silky words, your eyes fluttered closed at the intensity, “so fucking warm…” he sloppily planted a few comforting pecks along your flush cheek, “gripping onto me so good…” the hand not under you drifted up to trace the curve of your spine, your lungs jaggedly expanding underneath his palm.

Unhurriedly, your body eventually relaxed and gently began to move, shallowly fucking the very tip of him, even though just that already felt like more than you could handle, the way the bulbous head stretched you out being unimaginable. 

“Oh my god,” you whined as the hand on your back slid around your form, sweetly coming up to brush the wild hair out of your face as he stared deeply into your eyes, “it’s so much!”

“Is it too much?” he asked, burying his face in the swell of your tit.

“I don’t-, I-,” you choked out, incapable of deciphering the correct answer at this staggering moment, “it’s just so much!” blubbering as his lips captured your pebbly nipple, “you’re so much, you’re just so-, oh my god!”

On the verge of cumming again, your hand shot down to rub your clit, his enthusiastic words crashing into you like a wave, “yeah, rub your clit,” grunting as he craned his head to look at the crude vision, “rub it, make yourself cum, come on, I can feel how close you are.”

With lewd moans reverberating off the walls, your body trembled in his grasp as your pussy clamped so tightly that it completely expelled his throbbing tip. Hearing him quietly curse into your ear, you slumped down against his form, your cores still aligned just right for the essence of him to slip back into place, your limps desperately clinging onto his shoulders as you caught your breath.

“This doesn’t even feel like real life,” you mumbled into his skin, the tip of his cock still feeling like a rock inside of you.

Gently tilting your head back, his eyes found your dazed ones as his deep voice washed over you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, “it is real life.”

Lip trembling with emotion, you asked, “you promise?”

With the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he let his forehead meet yours as he verified softly, “promise,” thumb soothingly sweeping across your cheek, “you need me to pinch you or something just to make sure?” 

Giggling airily at his bad joke, the rumble then swiftly morphed into a hiss as your sensitive cunt consequently contracted around him, “oh fuck, how are you still so big?”

“Uhm,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry?” 

“I just wanna feel all of you,” you whined light-heartedly, “but I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get there because it already feels like you’re all the way up here,” you motioned in the direction of your solar plexus.

You knew that you could technically just let go and sink down, but it felt too much like standing at the end of a diving board, too scared to jump even though you knew you’d be okay, the rush of the drop was just too much and led you to chicken out every time. 

“You really wanna feel the rest?” he asked, readjusting his hold on you.

Staring back into his eyes, you exhaled into a pout, “I do. I really, really do.”

Capturing your lips in a kiss, you then felt the world tilt as Ari dipped you both down until your back hit the mattress. Distracting you with his tongue, dancing it against your own, he abruptly began to move his hips, fluidly thrusting them forward till his pelvis nuzzled against your own. All the air in your lungs was knocked out as his kiss muffled the loud moan you let out.

“There you go,” he smirked down at you, settling his arms on either side of your face, caging you in and declaring him as your entire reality, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Incapable of replying in a more eloquent way than just primal moans, your thighs trembled on either side of him as he slowly pulled back out till just the memory of him remained. Brows knitted together, you glanced down to take in the striking sight of his fat girth splitting you apart. 

“Look at how good we look together,” he followed your eye line, strings of your mess keeping his pelvis connected to yours like a carnal spiderweb, even when he slid out, reaching down to briefly glide the underside of him through your sloppy petals, ending by giving your puff a tap so rude that your entire body jumped beneath him, “such a good girl, taking it like a champ,” he buried himself once again, groaning lowly in bliss at the pleasure, “fucking knew you could take it,” he then emphasised each word he uttered next with a merciless thrust, “every god damn inch,” rocking into you so hard that the bed rattled beneath you.

With his dark eyes fixed upon you, absorbing the way your features contorted in ecstasy, the desperate sounds of your wetness were more overbearing than the clapping of skin colliding. 

Sneaking another breathless kiss, he then dipped down and nipped along your neck, “fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, lips wandering up to graze the shell of your ear, “sucking me in so fucking good,” fingers trailing down your quivering form, they dug into your thighs and primally tugged them up, resting your legs upon his sturdy shoulder and bending you in half like a pretzel, “best fucking pussy ever.” 

“A-ari!” you whimpered, completely spellbound by the intense sensation of how impossibly deep he went, shaking under him like a leaf as you felt yourself tumble over the edge again. 

Tilting his head to catch your eyes, watching how hard they fought to stay open, “I know, I know,” he simply murmured, “don’t push me out, I know you’re gonna cum, but please keep me inside, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel you,” not changing his speed one bit as you felt your pussy begin to shower him with love, soaking the sheets below as your cunt choked his cock.

You didn’t even register how obscenely loud you got as the overwhelming orgasm seemed to go on forever, his own selfish efforts in relishing in the sensation did nothing but draw it out even further, his rhythmic thrusts stayed steady till he’d emptied himself in the latex and you had nearly passed out from pleasure. 

Peering up at him through your wispy lashes, tangled in the dewy aftermath, you began to giggle softly.

“What?” he chuckled groggily.

“I-… no, never mind,” you squashed the thought, “it’s silly…” 

“What is it?” his palm slid up against the side of your cheek. 

Vision flickering from one of his eyes to the next, you timidly spoke from the heart, “it's just that my wish came true. I always wanted you to be my first,” an unreadable expression crossed his features at the softness of your confession. He didn’t say anything, simply reached out and kissed you bittersweetly, though your blissed-out antennas didn’t catch onto that detail in the slightest, “you know, Evergreen isn’t too far away from where you work…” 

You didn’t know what hour you had finally fallen asleep, but apparently, at some point, you had, as you now found yourself stirring from your dreams, soar and a hazy smile still plastered upon your lips. Gliding your hand over the covers in search of your neighbour, you didn’t bump into his form and blinked open your eyes to find that he had gone.

Trying not to freak out, you figured that maybe he didn’t wanna get into a sticky situation if your parents were to spontaneously waltz in at the crack of dawn and had therefore sneaked out. 

Though when you peeked out your window to spy through his it was completely void of any sign of life. Could he unexpectedly have gotten called forcing him back to work or was there another reasonable explanation for his absence?

Shrugging on the minty, terrycloth robe that hung on the knob of your closet door, you strolled out of your door. Entering the kitchen where your mother already sat, she glimpsed up from her newspaper and flashed you a bright smile, “good morning, honey.”

“Morning, mom,” you cracked open a cupboard, seized a glass and held it under the tab which you swiftly turned on. 

“Oh,” she excitedly perked up from behind you, “have you seen what finally came in the mail?” glass full, you turned to see the opened envelope she was referring to, the swirling words that were scribbled upon the cracked open card instantly made you’re your blood run cold and the glass nearly slip out of your grasp, “I still think it’s silly that they actually sent out ours with everyone else’s and didn’t just toss it over the hedge, but sure, I do get that there is something very romantic about sending and receiving wedding invitations in the mail.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

B Plot

Isabeau still can’t confess, and Siffrin needs to clear their head. Which means it’s high time for a sidequest. 

Act 1, Scene 2. West Dormont. Isa’s hand hovers near your shoulder. You try to look inviting, but you must not be very good at it. He’s already pulling away. Okay. This is it. Go time. “You can touch me,” you blurt out. “Wh— Hwhuh???” No turning back now. “It just. Seems like you think you can’t? But—you can.”

(Full disclosure, this is literally just 5k words of Siffrin trying to flirt, because he's not the only one who needed a break. Spoilers thru Act 3)

You don’t make the pun for Isa. You don’t say hi to Loop, either. You just sit on the ground and stare at the grass.

“Wow, stardust,” Loop snorts, “thanks for the warm welcome. I missed you too! But tone it down a little, will you? All that enthusiasm could get a little overwhelming!”

Near your foot, there’s a leaf growing out from a fallen branch, glossy and bright like it thinks it’s still attached to the tree. Like it thinks it’s still alive. But of course you know better. It’s already dead. It just doesn’t know it yet.

“Sooo~, what’s up? Give me the scoop! The latest and greatest, teehee!”

The leaf is always growing out of the branch, and the branch is always on the ground, splintered and slowly drying. Does the loop last long enough for the leaf to dry out, too? Does it die every day, like you do? Or will it spend the rest of eternity in a state of blissful ignorance?

“You beat the King again, right? That’s cool! You’re getting pretty tough! Keep it up and pretty soon you’ll have nothing to be scared of! Aside from, you know. All the existential dread.”

You watch your hand reach out to close around the leaf. It comes loose with a gentle pop.

“Oh, come on, at least pretend to listen. You’re good at that, teehee!” When you still don’t react, their tone sours. “The silent treatment is really not a cute look on you, you know.”

Even with nothing to hold onto, the leaf still looks offensively alive. You crumple it between your hands and then shred it into tiny little pieces. There. Now it’s just like you.

—There’s a startling clap! as Loop claps their hands about an inch from your left ear.

“Stardust,” they say firmly. “I’m a patient star, I really am, but if you keep ignoring me, I’m going to get grouchy.”

Very slowly, you look up. “She didn’t know anything.”

“...The head housemaiden?”

You nod.

“About Time Craft, you mean?”

Another nod.

“Oh,” Loop says softly. “Well. I suppose that’s to be expected. Maybe no one does, anymore.”

You shrug.

“B-But you still have leads, don’t you? Didn’t you have a few more questions for the K—”

“I don’t want to talk to the King.” The last time you tried to talk to the King, your actors looked at you like you were something monstrous. Subhuman. Like something they’d scraped off the bottom of their shoes. You wound up letting him kill you just to end the loop faster. But you’d forgotten how much the King’s final blow hurts.

“Okay, but—”

“Will you stop?” you demand. You don’t want to talk about this. You just want—

—but there’s no point finishing that sentence.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Probably you hurt Loop’s feelings. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Stardust,” Loop says at last, unexpectedly gently. When you glance up, they’re looking away, picking at the—not skin—the gummy celestial membrane that covers the pads of their fingers. They don’t have a mouth, but if they did, it would be frowning. “I think you might need a break.”

“Haha!!!! Ahaha!!!!! Do you think???”

“I don’t mean from the loops,” Loop says impatiently. “I just mean… Ohh, I don’t know. From fighting the loops? Of course I can’t directly relate, but—from an outside perspective, I think that trying to break the loop is probably sort of… not-good. Ah. Psychologically.”

You stare at them in stony silence.

“So maybe you need a B plot!”

“…A what?”

“You know. A B plot! Like in plays? It’s what the side characters get up to while the important people are off dying and falling in love and things!”

Wait. “You watch plays?”

“I am a star of culture, you know,” Loop sniffs. “I just think you could use a win! Take a break from fixing the laws of physics to focus on something a little more achievable, hmm~? Just for a few loops! Just to clear your head!”

Your mouth scrunches to one side. Unfortunately, they’ve caught your interest. “Like what.”

“Like, ah… oh! What about your touch therapy? That was fun, wasn’t it? Here, look, I could hold both your hands!”

“It doesn’t count,” you mutter.

“Oh, no? And whyever not?”

“It just doesn’t.” You can’t really explain why Loop doesn’t count. You just know that they don’t. The first time they elbowed you, you didn’t even flinch. To be honest, it barely registered. Like knocking your elbow against something not alive, or trying to tickle yourself.

Loop rolls their eyes. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”

* * *

They’re right, though. You need a break. But you’re not going to get it by holding hands with Loop.

* * *

You spend the rest of the day thinking about how to take a break from a temporal prison that is categorically, explicitly inescapable.

“Umm,” Isa whispers over dinner. “Sif? Are you, um, okay? You seem a little off.”

You probably should have expected this. Isabeau is always paying attention to what you’re doing and not-doing. But it never goes anywhere, because he’s too afraid to say it.

…Oh. Is that anything? You think it might be something. You already know that Isa wants to touch you. But he doesn’t, because he thinks you don’t want him to. Because you can’t tell him, and he can’t ask. So instead you’re both stuck here, not knowing what’s true.

What would it take to make him brave enough to say it? How obvious would you have to be before he could feel safe?

Your eyes narrow. Maybe you really do need a break.

You can read the rest on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55543246

[romanarose]

Happy Birthday, Joel

Trans!Joel Miller x m!reader

Summary: No one really knows Joel. Not the way you do.

Warnings: Uhhhhhh being closeted trans? I guess breif use of dead name, but for me personally the name I was born with doesnt bother me, and I have a few trans friends who feel the same, so I'm not gonna dance around it.

Immersivity: Reader is amab and male

A/N: This is for my dead @justagalwhowrites Joel's birthday celebration! I chose the gender swap, and even though it's not neccecarily gender swap because gender is gender, this is a pre-transition Joel Miller. I paired it with friends to lovers <3 I've seen at least one person talk about trans Joel as a concept and I love it! Below I'll have other trans concepts of mine liked

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

No one understood him like you did.

He was your best friend, and you were the only person he trusted enough to tell you his secret.

Melissa Miller was a man.

"What about Felix?" You ask him, flipping through a book of names they had gotten at the book store. The clerk treated them like they were expecting a baby, so happy and bubbly and asked when they were expecting. You didn't blame her, honestly.

In 1979, it was in vogue to have short hair, certainly not anything shocking even if the fashion was Ferrah Faucet style, long silky mousy brown hair, or afros. When he cut his hair into a pixie, Mrs. Miller lost her shit and called him a lesbian but that was just Mrs. Miller. He still looked feminine, even if you didn't see him that way. To you, he was a man.

He cringed. "Do I look like a twink to you?"

That made you laugh. "No, no you do not." He still looked more effeminate, but more like a tomboy girl than anything. Some curves for sure, even though he wore a tight sports bra most days. That should've been your first clue. While most girls were trying to make their chest bigger, he was trying to reduce it. Still, he worked on a farm, had muscles that matched his strength. Even before he came into his own with his muscles, he always had more of a straight body type which you loved.

"Give me another"

You were trying out name ideas. It was getting exhausting never referring to him as anything. Not that you could call him anything in public, but there were moments... stolen glances, little touches, times when you thought maybe is feelings for you matched yours for him.

"Theod-"

"Absolutly not."

You slam the book shut, watching him lay on the grass... it was his birthday, 20th to be expect, and he had wanted to just spend it out of the farm with you, so you packed a picnic. Still, birthday or not he was driving you insane.

"You said you liked old names!"

"Not ones that sound like some rich British asshole!"

You groan, watching him laugh as he sprawled out. Jean, flannel, tee shirt... all baggy of course. Despite the sports bra, you could see the swell of his tits.

He peaks up at you. "Well, get on with it!"

"Fiiiiine" Only because it was his birthday. And because picking a name with him seemed special, sacred. and it was his birthday. And because you loved him.

You reopen your book. "Abel?"

He seems to mull it over. "Hmmm. I like it...."

"But it's just not right, is it?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, but it's close."

You skim the names over, flipping through, skipping chunks, trying to find something that fit YOUR friend. He deserved the best.

"What about Joel?"

There was silence. "Joel... Joel Miller... wow.... I really like that. Rolls off the tongue." You watch the smile spread across his face. He sits up. "Joel Miller. Do you think it fits me?"

You're smiling back. "It really does. I think it's perfect. I mean, we can keep look-"

"No!" He cuts you off but this time you arent annoyed. He's bubbling with joy, giddy as he bounces in his spot. "I love it."

"Joel it is then!"

You don't see it coming when he kisses you. As quickly as it started, he pulls away. "Shit. Shit, I'm fuck'n sorry man, I just got-"

You grab his flannel and pull him back to you, kissing him deeper now. Joel's body submits to you immediately, melting into your touch and humming as you lay him down on the grass.

"Wanted you for so long..." You murmur into his mouth, not daring to pull away. "My man..."

He smiles against your skin. "Your man?"

"Mine, and mine only." You settle your knee between his legs, hearing Joel whimper. He was far from a blushing virgin, you knew. Many a man had taken him to bed before he realized what he was. But none of them understood him like you. None of them knew Joel Miller. You touch him, avoiding his chest you knew he didn't like attention drawn to, and feeling the muscles on his stomach. He was your man.

"Happy birthday, Joel"

*********

I hope you likey!!!!! I've been enjoying writing some trans content and i hope you do too!!!!

Here are some others ive done

About a Girl series: Joel meets reader, not realizing at first she's trans. All about acceptance, queer issues, family, found family, love, kindness.

You'd love me if i was a worm, would you love me if i was a man?: reader comes out to Santi

Joel take a strap: Joel's husband is a transman, and he finds a strap

Big Boys Dont Cry: Trans Santi Trans Reader smut

thank you all!!!

I've considered doing something with the trans logan stuff I've seen.... anyone in?

Tagging those i thought might enjoy!

@my-secret-shame @beefrobeefcal @pedge-page @for-a-longlongtime @crowandmousewritingco

[tenderleavesbob]

Whumptober 28/31

No. 28: Alternate Friendly Fire

Twilight transformed into Wolfie again and led the way. Fresh purpose lent Legend and Four renewed strength, the light in Legend’s eyes transforming from anger to determination. It was almost enough to distract Twilight from the sour scent in the air.

It coiled throughout the dungeon. It rested under every stone, stained every cobweb. Once Twilight started smelling it, he couldn’t stop. It was like how no amount of fresh grass could disguise a graveyard. There was the lingering scent of blood and pain and fear and something sour under it all, burning his nose the more deeply he inhaled it. He sneezed twice and Four stroked his back and asked if he was all right. He only huffed and kept walking.

Legend was right. This wasn’t a dungeon. It was a trap, and Sky was alone in it.

Warriors, Wild, and now Sky. The rest of them divided into groups. Divide and conquer, Warriors loved to say, as a plan and a warning. It was a favorite trick of Twilight’s as a wolf. Separate his enemies and take out the weaker ones.

Their enemy was here. It took out Warriors first, both as their strategist and as the one with the least amount of knowledge regarding temples. Maybe Wild was just an unlucky coincidence or a successful lure. Twilight didn’t know. His brothers were divided, and while Sky wasn’t known for arrogance, he could be distracted. They were all distracted. If they hadn’t been, maybe if Warriors had been with them, they would have recognized this place for what it was earlier.

Sky’s trail was too quiet. Twilight’s sharp ears heard things moving in the walls, but nothing blocked their path. It raised his hackles.

“This is definitely a trap,” Legend said in unknowing agreement. He rested a hand on Twilight’s ruffled fur as he examined the walls. When he was focused and studious like that, it added years to his face. Even with their other distractions, it made Twilight’s heart hurt. “Divided us and set up something nasty at the end. I bet it’s the usual boss setup. That would be easiest and would work with the dungeon’s magic…” He frowned and cocked his head, as if listening to the monsters in the walls, too. “We have to expect this boss to be nastier than most. If the boss is usually the centerpoint for a dungeon’s dark magic, who knows what we can expect from this guy.”

Twilight whined in pained agreement. Four hummed and walked on his other side. “Black blooded?” he mused.

“Probably,” Legend agreed.

Twilight’s nose led them to a closed door. Legend paused in front of it, his bony, scarred fingers tracing the odd lines of it. “This used to be locked,” he mused. “You can see where the chains used to be.” He looked around and gestured at the floor. “No chains here and I don’t remember seeing a key anywhere, unless Sky happened to find one on his way. No. This was an old dungeon, already conquered. No one recognized it, right?”

Four shook his head, and Twilight transformed to do the same. Neither spoke and interrupted Legend’s train of thought.

“There have been other heroes,” Legend continued, still touching the door. “Either one of them defeated this dungeon already or one of us does it later.” He wrinkled his nose. “It better not be me.” He shook his head, clearing the thought away. “The enemy repurposed this dungeon and created a new boss to haunt this place. That’s why this place has been so odd.”

Twilight grunted and stared at the door. “I don’t hear anything on the other side.”

The other two stopped. “...that’s not good,” Four said.

“It’s a trap, all right,” Legend said grimly, holding his sword in front of him. The rings on his fingers glinted. “And Sky fell for it. Let’s go!”

The door creaked open before them. The trio walked in slowly, weapons at the ready. It was quiet. Too quiet, as much as Twilight hated to think it. He expected some sounds of a battle or something, anything but the eerie silence.

The first thing he saw was the giant rat. There were chunks of stone everywhere, with black blood and something green glistening in the mess. The rat stared at them with burning eyes, but it didn’t move closer.

The second thing Twilight saw was Sky, and his blood ran cold. “Sky,” he croaked, stepping forward.

Legend blocked him. Four stood in front of them both, face grim. “That’s not Sky,” Four said.

“Not right now,” Legend snarled. 

Sky’s sweet eyes burned like the rat’s. His shoulders were hunched and the Master Sword rested on the ground beside him, glowing a furious white. In Sky’s hands instead was a large blade which looked like it used to be a fang. A venomous green and the bright red of blood dripped sickly down Sky’s arm, telling Twilight exactly what had happened.

“Watch out for the rat’s fangs,” Legend said grimly. “Sky’s cut doesn’t look that deep, so it won’t take much. Four, we’ll take Sky. Twi, kill that rat.”

The unholy glow lit up in the rat’s and Sky’s eyes. As one, they lurched forward.

“Sorry for this, Sky,” Twilight whispered and charged.

The room seemed to eat sound, making their shouts and cries quieter than they ought to be, but Twilight heard every pained sound from his brothers as he fought the rat. He couldn’t be as rough and quick as he wanted. Not if he wanted to avoid those fangs, too. If he could kill this rat, though, maybe Sky would snap back to normal. Twilight’s sword cut through the monster easily enough, with Twilight taking care to avoid the blood just in case that was poisonous, too. 

Legend shouted something. Twilight couldn’t look. He couldn’t turn when Four yelped and Sky grunted. He needed to finish this. He needed to --

“Twi, look out!”

Twilight spun around, just in time for a bruised and battered Sky’s furious charge.

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