#he was fine for the first few months because babies grow and change

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

Dorian can be so dramatic at times.

He knows their daughter looks exactly like her mother but he also tries to find something that is his. So when the baby was almost one, he showed her to Chaol and Aelin, asking them if they saw a little resemblance.

Both said nope, they didn't see anything of him at all.

"Look at her eyes, those are my eyes!" He explained.

"Just the color, the shape is Manon," Aelin told him.

"Sorry, Dorian," Chaol tried to apologize for disappointing him, but facts remained, there was nothing of Dorian on his daughter's face and he couldn't lie about it.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

[reiderwriter]

Well, Are You Mine?

Final Chapter of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Spencer adjusts to fatherhood alone.

Warnings: Angst, hopeful ending, mentions Canon character death (Gideon), mentions of new parent stress, single parenthood, etc.

A/N: I'm back! The final chapter is finally here, and I'm so very happy!! Thank you all for waiting patiently while I recovered from my illness. It's monsoon season here right now, so I've been hit with just depressing wave after wave of coughs, colds, fevers, and general rainy season ailments. But now this is finished! Thank you for joining ke on this three month journey. I'll be publishing a much happier, much fluffier epilogue within the week, so please look forward to that~♡ Without further ado, The End.

In the six weeks since his daughter had been born, Spencer Reid had experienced what he could solidly call the most terrifying weeks of his life.

The baby cried, and his heart beat out of his chest. Rain or shine, fully awake or fully knocked out, a single gargle or a full on scream and he was sprinting to her side to coo her back to blissful sleep, or to change her, or just to hold her close.

In the six weeks up to her birth, he'd pointedly avoided parenting books on the whole, doing his best to drown out all the memories from reading similar books when JJ was pregnant. Every memory stung as he clawed his way back to the family that was prematurely ripped from him.

But the baby was here now. The baby was safe, and the baby was crying, which he knew was absolutely healthy and nothing to worry about, and completely and totally fine, except it dropped his heart to his stomach everytime she did it.

It wasn't as if your daughter was a particularly fussy child. She was a newborn, she was a healthy weight and size, and the doctors who had checked her over at the hospital after her birth had reassured him multiple times that she was totally healthy. A miracle, all things considered.

And she was his miracle. For six weeks, she'd been his little wonder.

The team had banded together to fix up his apartment while she'd been observed in the hospital for the first few days of her life.

He'd sat and watched her through the newborn window at the hospital while Penelope had cleaned up his apartment, and Luke had built him a crib.

Emily and JJ had gone hunting for baby clothes and found probably a lifetime supply of 0-3 months, 3-6 months, and 6-9 months babygrows, t-shirts, dresses, and matching little hair bows for everything.

The first time he'd seen the socks, he'd broken down.

Arriving back with his newborn daughter to his apartment, he'd carried her to her new room, desk removed and crib added, though the walls were still shelved with books he really needed to do something with. He'd opened the sock drawer and been faced with a drawer full of single socks. There wasn't a matching pair in sight.

He'd pulled his daughter into his arms and held her close as the tears fell once again.

It had been six weeks since you'd delivered your first baby, and Spencer was sure that if you had the opportunity, you'd be cussing him out continuously.

Because as much as he doted on his daughter, his sweet baby, who he swore was already smiling sweetly up at him each time she grabbed his pinkie with her whole tiny fist, he had still not given her a a name.

“We can't just call her baby,” Emily complained to him after three days, already getting restless with Spencer's lack of decisiveness.

“I won't name her without Y/N,” he'd replied, and Emily had shut her mouth, not willing to open up that can of worms around him just yet. The sudden silence whenever he mentioned you was deafening. Spencer felt the team growing rigid each time he said something even slightly hopeful, then gently tried to lead him back to being ‘realistic.’

It had been six weeks since you'd given birth, and smiled at him sweetly as you brought you'd daughter into the world and six weeks since you'd quietly slipped into a peaceful coma.

The first week, he'd been told to prepare himself for the worst. The second week, he'd been told there was nothing more that they could do.

But in the third week, you'd moved. Just your hand, just a twitch, but a sign of life the doctors had been trying to convince him wasn't there before.

In the fourth week, you'd recovered enough to be taken off the ventilator.

You were clawing your way back to consciousness, readying yourself to meet your precious, sweet baby.

In the sixth week after Spencer Reid became a father, he took his daughter back to the hospital to meet her mother again. With some expert baby-sitting from Penelope, he'd managed to visit you once every two days at least in the last few months, but with the little-one still only small, hospital visits to trauma wards weren't exactly recommended.

When they'd transferred you to a regular ward, he'd packed his bags immediately and gathered the baby up, strapping her into her carrier and waiting desperately for visiting hours to begin.

After thirty minutes, he made a call.

“Emily? Can I… can we get a ride?”

Of course, she'd agreed. While no one else had been letting themselves hope, they had absolutely been at his beck and call. He'd been swamped with guilt calling JJ at 3am asking how to settle you because he'd tried everything, and constantly relying on Penelope to come and help him and Luke and Emily, picking up extra hours to finish his paperwork because his paternity leave still hadn't been approved.

He felt guilty, overwhelmed, and stressed, and he needed you to wake up so goddamn much that he feared if he got any bad news, he would shatter. And he didn't know how to be a father, because really he hadn't had one before he was 20 and Gideon became his, and even he had left when things got hard. So how could he be sure he wouldn't.

So he hadn't given his daughter a name. And, yes, it was because he wanted to do it with you, to pick out a name together, but also it was because he didn't think he could stand knowing it if he was too weak and ran from her.

The pressure built and built for six weeks, as he fell in love with his daughter, who deserved better than his love, and then Emily pulled up in his car, and he started sobbing.

“Spencer!” Emily exclaimed, not expecting the outburst at all, the loneliness of the last five months catching up to him finally.

“Emily… Emily, I'm a terrible father-”

“No! No, sweetie, you're-”

“My daughter doesn't have a name!”

Emily switched the engine off and then grabbed Spencer's shoulder, roughly turning him to face her if he wouldn't meet her in the eyes.

“You have survived this job for nearly two decades. You have survived gunshots, and murderers, and loss that I can not begin to comprehend, and you love that child. You are grieving, and you are stressed, and it is so totally, completely normal to not be okay after everything you've been through,” Emily held her breath, waiting for his reply. Just as he opened his mouth to whisper more doubts, the baby in the back seat began to fuss and cry.

Unable to stop himself, Spencer laughed. Emily laughed with him. They sat giggling in the car together, tears in their eyes as his daughter kicked up a fuss.

“She doesn't like hearing you talk badly about her daddy,” Emily joked and started the engine again.

When Spencer finally made it to your room, his daughter had stopped fussing. A quick bottle in the parking lot had mollified her, and she was gurgling softly now, still pink, her eyes tightly closed. He'd dressed her up nicely, or as nicely as he could muster. A cute pink newborn dress for his tiny baby and a matching pink hair bow.

He gathered the baby carrier in his arms and let the hospital doors open for him.

Finding your new ward wasn't hard. The nurses were helpful enough and honestly, he'd taken a look at the building blueprints weeks before, when he'd been obsessing over every small detail of your care, so he practically knew the route by himself.

Straight, then a left turn, then straight again, and a right turn and keep going until there was a final turn into your ward.

He let out a deep sigh as soon as he reached the nurses station and readied himself to ask for you.

“Hello, I'm here to see my Y/N, I was told she was transferred here this morning?”

The nurses on the station looked up at him in shock and blinked at him a few times before speaking up. If ever there was a time to hear the words “you haven't heard?” uttered from the mouth of a nurse in a hospital where your comatose girlfriend was being treated, then it likely wasn't when he held a newborn in his already weak arms.

The panic set in quickly as he tuned the noise out. An older nurse walked around the side of the desk to comfort him, sticking by his side and grabbing the baby carrier before he could accidentally let it go in his shock.

Another nurse came to his side to take care of the baby, and quickly, they both ushered him down another hall to an adjacent ward. He drowned out every word as they tried to comfort and reassure him, his brain jumping to the worst conclusions.

His teammates were right when they said he shouldn't hope. He needed to be realistic now. If you were gone, he had to call your family and organize the funeral. He had to pack up your stuff. He had to settle the hospital bills and decide how you would be seen off.

He had to name his daughter.

The nurses pushed him towards the room quickly, and he mentally prepared himself to say goodbye, but as the doors swung open, he saw you, and he fell to his knees.

“Spencer?”

In the two hours since you'd woken up, you'd been poked, prodded, hydrated, fed, rubbed down, and spoken over like you were still somewhat asleep.

No one had explained exactly what had happened, and no one explained where your baby was, and you'd kicked and screamed yourself hoarse, as the doctors noted down that you still had use of your vocal chords and all four limbs.

So seeing Spencer crash into your room at full force through your tear filled eyes was the best experience you'd had in months, especially when you spotted the nurse with the baby sized car seat coming in behind him.

“Is that my baby? Is that my baby? Please-” You pushed sheets off your body as a nurse tried to hold you still, not wanting you to pull the IV from your arm or the oxygen tubes from your face.

And suddenly Spencer was there, and he'd regained his strength, and his hope, and his happiness because you were awake, and talking and god you remembered.

It was all he could do not to grab you, bundle you up, and carry you away to safety, but the nurse propping you up was stern-looking, and he had a daughter to tend to.

He pulled your face into his hands and kissed you as softly as he could, holding back his emotion as he held you like you would break, feeling your wet tears on his skin.

“I missed you,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to yours as he gently stepped back and allowed the nurses to help you get comfortable.

Then he turned quickly and grabbed your daughter, and your breath caught in your throat as he held her out to you.

“What do I…? Where should I put my hands- Oh god, I'm so unprepared, I-” your eyes welled again, but it was joy as you saw her serene little sleeping face for the first time and he slowly lowered her into your arms. It turns out, no-one needed to help you out holding her at all, because she was so precious and perfect and yours that she slotted into your arms completely, like it was a spot made completely for her, like you'd been purpose made to hold her and be her mother and love her and cherish her.

You cried and looked up at Spencer and laughed. He rested on the side of the bed and pulled you into his arms, and you felt that completeness a second time, and you knew that you were made for him the way she was made for you.

Your family.

It had almost been taken for you, but it was yours, and it was fate.

With a quiet whisper that only Spencer could hear, you leant down to your baby's ear and said your first words to her.

“I wish that I could be your mother in every lifetime, my sweet Angel.”

[uyuuma]

“ MATTE BLACK ”

satoru gojo x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. your boyfriend, satoru gojo, is driving you home from a long day out. you decide to repay him for the fun date, while he's fuckin' driving. (damn girl, can't wait till you get home first?)

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, praise kink, using pet names, oral (male receiving), deepthroating, hairpulling, this is all while he drives btw, etc.

❥ a/n. mb guys ik it's been a few months but i'm having horrible writers block. i have a bunch of drafts atm. wrote this cos i may or may not have done this irl >:) also this is bc im still coping with ch 261 in jjk

❥ wc. 3k

"Are you sleepy, baby?" A voice asked softly, ripping you from the dream-like state you were under. You blinked rapidly, little droplets forming on the corners of your sleepy eyes. A quiet yawn escaped your lips as you stretched in your plush seat. You turn your head to look over at Gojo, as he lovingly glances at your sleepy form in his passenger seat. Your lashes drooped as your mind slowly regained consciousness, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up from your groggy condition. Gojo let out a chuckle as his eyes stayed glued to the road ahead. "Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you from your precious slumber." he apologized, his faint smile being illuminated from the bright red lights on the dashboard. "S'okay baby, didn't mean to fall asleep anyway." you muttered, another yawn threatening to escape your throat. You looked ahead at the road, it was a straight freeway that stretched out for miles on end. It was already dark out, hardly any lighting besides the bright headlights of his car. It was slightly mesmerizing to you, seeing the surrounding environment race by in a blur. You could tell you were still quite a ways from home, you were in a very rural area. No cars, buildings, or signs of civilization have passed by since you woke up. "Poor baby, we had such a long day together. You should nap some more, it'll be a while till we get home, 'kay?" Gojo rested his large hand on your thigh, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. He moved his hand so that he could cup your cheek, trying to further coax you into going back to sleep. You giggled, shrugging your left shoulder so that you could lean into his palm. "I'm fine, Satoru... I'm not that sleepy." You kissed his hand and leaned back into the chair, peering out the windshield to see the sparkling stars in the night sky. As he withdrew his hand to change gears, you moved yours to fiddle with the radio. Gojo always gives you aux because you are his pretty princess that he loves to spoil. He didn't mind whatever songs you chose to play, even if your playlists were an incoherent mess. You tapped on the screen, skipping a couple of songs before landing on the one you wanted.

You grinned, satisfied with the choice. Gojo also seemed pleased by your choice as he gently bobbed his head to the beat. He shifted gears again then rested his hand on your thigh once more. A gesture which was normally so innocent and comforting had your head spinning. You weren't sure what had suddenly caused you to feel so worked up, but it certainly caused you to become more alert. You bounced your other leg in anticipation, sorting through your options. You want Gojo now. In fact, you were down bad for him all day, but since you two were enjoying the day together you brushed it off. But now it's different, now you have privacy. Now you were cooped up in his Dodge Challenger, home still miles away. Come to think of it, his car was definitely one of his prized possessions as he always took amazing care of it. The interior was always so clean, the matte black seats and dashboard almost disappeared into the night. It smelled faintly of his cologne and the 'black ice' tree car freshener that hung from his rearview mirror. The masculine blend of scents added to the growing arousal pooling in your tummy, as if his car was full of pheromones. But even if it wasn't the way he cared for his car or the hypnotic aroma that danced around your senses, just the way he drove enchanted you. He drove with such confidence, only needing one hand on the wheel. The way his veins would pop out of his pale hand when he would switch gears. His long legs shifted somewhat to hit the gas or clutch. It was as if your boyfriend mastered the art of driving. It was the true reason you made him drive most of the time, Gojo believing it to be because you weren't as confident in driving. Nope, the true reason was that you were too enamored with being his little passenger princess to ever dare getting into the driver's seat again. Realizing that you were full on ogling Gojo as he drove, you shifted your observant eyes to take in his handsome face. He was focused on the road, his right hand now holding the wheel. His left arm rested against the car door, propping up his tired head on his fist. His body language was fatigued and you understood that he too, was drowsy. Your lips tugged into a frown, growing empathy and guilt in your body. You wanted to find a way to keep your boyfriend awake, while also repaying him for spoiling you all day.

That was when your gaze settled on his crotch, a little idea popping into your head. You knew exactly how to spoil him back and you weren't waiting till you guys got home to do it.

"Satoru..." you muttered, a lilt to your soft voice. You rest your hand on his thigh this time, fingers stroking the rough wrinkles in his dark jeans.

"Yes, princess?" He asked curiously, his thigh twitching from your little touches.

"Want to repay you for today." you hummed, your head leaning onto the edge of your seat. You batted your lashes at him innocently, not sure if he could see from the dark interior.

Per his immaculate eyesight however, he saw how you put on an innocent act. He cocked his head in confusion, a small laugh leaving his lips. "Baby, you don't owe me anything. Don't be silly." he assured you.

You pout, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. Of course he wouldn't let you pay back monetarily... however that's not what you meant.

"Not like that..." you mewled. You guided your hand down to his crotch, fingers caressing the fabric that separated you from his cock. You smirked, feeling how his dick stirred underneath his jeans. Seems like he wanted you too.

He sucked air in through his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips. "Naughty girl..." he muttered, his gaze remained fixed to the freeway.

"I'll happily take you as payment then." He chuckled, moving his left hand to grip onto the steering wheel. His now free hand met yours as he pressed your palm harder against his length. He groaned, letting himself enjoy your touch for a little longer. Once he grew impatient he began to unbuckle his belt with right hand, left hand still steering the wheel. He undid his belt and moved the strap of his seatbelt so that it was resting against his abs. He followed suit with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. The sounds of the clanking belt buckle and zipper sent shivers down your spine and a familiar warmth to your cunt.

He skillfully hooked his thumb into the waistband and bucked his hips up to lower his jeans. He pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was half hard but even in its softer state it was big.

In an instant your hand gathered his length, giving it a few pumps to get him to 100%. He let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the steering wheel's leather.

You lazily slid your palm along his cock, enjoying the feeling of him growing inside of your grip. You knew you were efficient at your job when his cock became too much for just one hand to hold. His blushing tip started to gush with precum. He twitched in your grasp as you wiped the sticky fluid with your thumb.

Your mind became so dizzy and cloudy, watching how his abs flexed and body shuddered from any small movement you made. You admired the fluffy white happy trail that lead down his pelvis. It all was too much for you to handle any longer.

You could feel your slutty little mouth salivate, hungry to finally shove him into any hole you could fit him into.

To be completely fair, it was a difficult task to fit him anywhere. His dick was just so long. You always bruised the back of your throat whenever you sucked him off, but it's so worth it.

You finally shuffled in your chair, moving your hips so that the seatbelt that constricted your lap was now beneath your shins. You sat up, the only thing keeping you safely tied to your seat was the chest strap.

Gojo's ears perked, hearing how your movements caused the belt to zip in extension to your body. The chest strap slid down your upper body and nestled itself between your stomach and pelvis.

You were lucky that the center console was low, it gave you perfect access to his lap. You leaned over it, your head lowering over his throbbing cockhead. He let out a sigh in relief as your lips finally touched his aching cock. You teased him a bit, giving his leaky tip a few kisses before sticking your tongue out. Your tongue licked a fat strip up his warm shaft, earning you a muffled groan from Gojo. You grinned, looking down at how your spit glistened on his skin as if admiring your work.

Gojo grunted, feeling how the cold air pricked at the saliva you left behind. He felt himself lose his patience, his grip on the wheel tightening. His right hand felt around, trying to keep his gaze attached to the street. Once he felt your hair, he lovingly stroked your head, a small chuckle leaving his throat.

"Princess... you're testing my patience." He croons in a gentle, yet warning manner. His fingers intertwined with your hair so that he could give it a tug.

You gasped, feeling the slight sting in your scalp from his commanding yank on your locks. Averting your gaze from his lap to look up at him, you could make out his strong features even in the darkness. His sharp jawline and the way his mouth contorted in a cocky grin made your mind run wild. You decide to comply with his warning, knowing your delicate throat wasn't prepared to take his relentless pace yet.

You roll out your tongue and open wide, slowly taking his length into your mouth. His breath hitched feeling how your tongue glided against his skin, how you hollowed out your cheeks and clenched around him so heavenly.

"Good fucking girl..." he sighed, dragging out the syllables in bliss. His fingers slipped from your hair, so that he could gently rest it atop your crown. His hand only ever left your head when he had to switch gears.

You immersed yourself into the act, bobbing your head up and down to build a delicious rhythm that you knew Gojo couldn't resist. You could hear his breathing became labored, even with your eyes closed you could imagine how his built chest heaved underneath that tight black shirt.

Gojo's attempts to concentrate on his driving and the road ahead became extremely challenging as he felt his girlfriend's throat swallow him up so well. He desperately wanted to throw his head back, for his long white lashes to flutter shut as he let you take over. However, it wasn't exactly an option at this point in time so he controlled his urges for the time being.

You were fully occupied with dragging your tongue tantalizingly against his length, not caring about how much saliva had started to pool on his pelvis. It felt so lewd to swallow him up while he drove you home, knowing how much restraint he had to use to make sure he didn't run the car off the road. The thrill and danger of it all made you moan messily into his slick skin, inhibitions already out the window.

Feeling your mouth reverberate as you moaned, sent his eyes to dart to the back of his head. Although, it was momentary as he remembered he was supposed to be driving. He forced his body to keep the involuntary movements to a minimum, trying to hone all of his energy into heavy breathing and moans.

Gojo was normally never this vocal, but right now he was pouring all of his bliss into sounds. His grunts only fueled your resolve to take him deeper and deeper... until...

'GLUK!' You choked as his tip prodded past the back of your tongue. Your lungs burned as you held back a cough, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting how lengthy your boyfriend is. You went to remove him from your mouth to gasp for air when your neck felt resistance, stopping you in your tracks. "Mmph!" A muffled cry escaped your mouth as Gojo held your head in place.

"Shhhshhh... doin' so well for me baby. C'mon, practice breathing through your nose like I showed you." Your white-haired boyfriend preened, his hand unwavering as he held down your head.

You were definitely going to give him shit for this when you got home, but in this instance you were cock drunk enough to let this slide. In fact, your body gave into his touch almost immediately, your neck no longer fought against his push. You could feel his cock reach the deepest parts of your throat, a place that you had always struggled to let him into.

Your lungs ached and burned from a lack of oxygen, so you took note of his words as started to breathe through your nose. As you blew air out your nose, it tickled the white hairs that decorated Gojo's pelvis.

Gojo was so proud of how well you were taking his dick down your throat, he could feel his orgasm building quickly. His knuckles were turning white from the incredible grip that he held on the steering wheel. If you could see it, you would undoubtedly drool from the sight of his veins popping out along his knuckles.

He could no longer help how his hips thrusted lightly into your face or how his foot dangerously pushed down on the gas pedal harder and harder. Just the way you were struggling to take him made his head spin in ecstasy. His eyes darted between the road and your pretty little head going down on him, biting down on his lip as he felt himself near the edge.

Before he knew it, he checked the speedometer and his eyes widened in shock.

"Oh shit!" He whisper-shouted, his hand flying out of your hair and onto the shifter. He let off the gas, hit the clutch, and switched gears as he slowed down the car in a huff.

"Fuck princess... makin' me go a hundred here." He chuckled, slight panic still left in his voice. The panic very soon melted away as you sucked in your cheeks and moved your head at a mind-numbing pace.

"Christ..." He huffed as your throat molded to the slight curve of his cock, your muffled moans and hums made him swear he could see god at this very moment. You became so absorbed in his praises that you didn't feel at all panicked that he almost went 120 mph while your face was nestled in his lap. In fact, that only excited you further.

"Fuck baby... m'almost there!" He whimpered, not daring to change the pressure on the gas pedal any further. He held down your head, cock twitching as he prepared to fill you with his load.

You groaned, feeling how he definitely bruised the back of your throat with that last push, your nose pressing into his skin as he gave one last buck.

"Fuck, m'cumming so hard!" Gojo grunted as his muscles tensed up. You suddenly felt the warm sensation of his hot seed spurting down your throat. You swallowed to the best of your ability, the thick fluid causing your esophagus to feel dry. Gojo let out a few more groans and grunts, before his hand let go of your head.

Your head shot up, gasping for air as you recovered from the brutal throat-fucking you just received. Your hands gently held your neck as you came down from your own high.

Gojo's breathing was still heavy as he composed himself behind the wheel. He chuckled, pulling his pants back up since the warmth of your mouth was lost. He glanced down at you every-so-often to make sure you were recovering okay.

"You did such a good job, baby." Gojo praised, his hand coming down to stroke your hair again.

"Throat is sore 'cause of you." You rasped, a slight scowl on your face as you came to your senses. Although you were pouting, you still made sure to help him zip up his pants and buckle his belt.

"I know, I know... I may have gone overboard a bit." He nervously laughed, his fingers pinching your cheek to tease you.

You sat up, hissing from the pain in your ribs from bending over the center console for so long. You must've been too wrapped up in the act to realize how uncomfortable the position was.

You readjusted yourself in his matte black seat, properly buckling yourself to the chair as to not violate the law (as if you weren't doing so a few minutes ago). You fixed up your hair and swallowed thickly, your throat definitely needed some water eventually.

"You were such a good girl f'me though. How about we get you an ice cold slushy and some cough drops to soothe your hard-working throat?" Gojo recommended, his hand resting on your thigh once more.

Your face instantly went from a pout to an excited grin. "Yes, please! Can I pick which gas station, though?" You asked, fingers already tapping the gps to find the closest preferred rest stop.

"Of course, anything for my princess." Gojo responded, being unable to hide the sappy tone in his voice.

Gojo did however hide a smirk though, knowing he was definitely inspired to do more lewd activities in his car again.

This was only the beginning for him and his beloved passenger princess.

[softgreengrass]

The Gold

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: angst, au where clint dies on vormir instead of natasha, set a few months after endgame, relationship troubles😬

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: survivor’s guilt, breakup

Author’s Note: based on “the gold” by manchester orchestra and phoebe bridgers

You wake to birds chirping. Natasha has opened the window. She’s nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen or out for a run. All at once, a crushing melancholy falls onto your chest, the one that’s been appearing with increasing frequency ever since she returned.

She hadn’t wanted to come back; anyone could see that. She wished she was dead instead of Clint, instead of Tony. And she meant it. She wanted to be dead.

Because of that, it had never felt like a victory to you. You knew the others agreed —Wanda, Peter, Bucky— but that didn’t make it much easier.

Even the things Thanos hadn’t taken, he had changed.

You get up slowly, all too aware of the lump in your throat and the fragility of your heart. If Natasha so much as looks at you wrong this morning, you’ll lose it. Again.

You know she’s tired of it, of your mood swings and sensitivity, but it all stems from her and she knows that too. Those first few weeks after her return had set a certain tone.

Natasha is standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee pot. You know why instantly. You always do.

“I forgot how he used to drink straight from this,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

You’ve grown used to Natasha’s blank stare: it doesn’t twist your heart the way it used to. Some days you think she found your biggest store of sympathy and dried it all up. You shuffle past her, open the freezer, and pull out hash browns.

“I was going to visit Laura today,” she says numbly.

“You visited her yesterday, baby,” you say, glancing up at her as you dump the hash browns onto a pan. “I think she’s okay for today.”

Natasha swallows. You can see the pain in her eyes, the sinkhole of regret. “I don’t have any other plans.”

“You could stay home with me.”

Your tone is neutral, but you know she picks up on the hope in it. And you can feel the distance that grows between you the longer she takes to answer.

“Come on, Nat,” you smile, like your eyes aren’t already stinging with tears.

“I want to be useful,” she pleads. “I… you’re too good to me here. I can’t be useful.”

It takes you a second to process what on earth she could possibly mean. Natasha stands quietly.

In another life, you could’ve said the words on your tongue. Could’ve told her that you need her like water, that the most useful thing she could possibly do is just be with you. But you know you can survive without her. At this point she must know that too.

And yet, there’s something yearning in her eyes, like she has faith in you.

The hash browns crackle and give you an excuse to look at them instead of her.

Somewhere deep inside of you, you know Natasha has always been fine without you. She doesn’t love you in the way you love her, in the way that would summon sympathy and energy out of thin air. She used to, maybe. It’s all bitter on your tongue.

She clears her throat. “I got an email. Apparently they want to give us medals.“

“You brought back half the universe. The least you deserve is a medal.”

You know what she wants to say to that. The silence is frustrated and thick, the lump in your throat quickly returning. You hate that nothing is easy anymore.

“I’m going to Laura’s,” she says eventually.

You can’t find it in you to respond; you can barely make yourself nod. The oil on the pan bubbles and spatters violently, and you realize that’s how your blood feels, singing your arteries and your veins and your heart.

When the door closes behind her, you close your eyes.

Your dad’s face comes to mind. “Don’t open your eyes for a while,” he used to say, his voice gravelly but gentle. “Just breathe that moment down.”

It had helped, especially in your teenage years when you were quick to anger and quicker to hurt. Regret used to swallow you whole. You had told Natasha that once, years ago, when you visited his grave together for the first time. She had been polite.

You don’t want to resent her. God, how you don’t. But the past couple of months have worn you down to the bone, and it would be one thing if she was fighting too, but she gave up on that cliff. You don’t know how much longer you can do all the caring for.

And it’s not like your relationship was perfect before, either. You had met her at a high point. It had always been a steady decline.

A hard wave of guilt nearly knocks the breath out of you, and you have to grip the counter to keep your balance. You love her. You’ll fight for as long as you can.

You eat the burnt hash browns right out of the pan, even though you don’t feel hungry.

By ten, Natasha still hasn’t come home, and you’re back in bed, blinking back more tears, since that feels like all you do nowadays. Now accompanying the gloom and guilt in your ribcage is an unrelenting discomfort. It’s that same old helpless feeling, the one that knows things are going to change and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The vertigo of it all rocks you to sleep.

You make it another week before one of Natasha’s nightmares wakes you up and you’re so full of discontent you can’t breathe. Still, you swallow it down and find her hand in the dark.

“Nat, you’re right here,” you whisper.

A squeeze of her hand and she opens her eyes, frantically looking around.

“It was just a dream.”

Wild eyes find your own; a sheen of sweat coats her face. Her breath heaves. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words burn in your throat. How many times will you have to tell her that?

Her head falls back against the pillow with a sigh.

Your eyes ache for sleep, but then there it is again, that realization that soon you might never be in bed with her again. You’re not sure how to appreciate it fully.

“Are you hungry?” she asks coarsely, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re not. “I could eat.”

She smears peanut butter onto toast into the kitchen, gives the first one to you. It must be the millionth time the two of you have been in the kitchen together, dark circles under your eyes and hair frizzy.

“You know I wish none of that ever happened,” Natasha says softly.

“Of course,” you furrow your brow. “I wish it didn’t either.”

“No, I mean,” she huffs. “I wish we didn’t change. I wish I didn’t change.”

It’s like something has pierced your heart. You can’t find anything to say to comfort her, because you wish that just as much as she does.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admits, her bottom lip quivering. “But I don’t want to hold you back just because I’m stuck.”

“Nat…”

She swallows thickly. “It’s your choice.”

You hate that you already know your answer, that you’ve known it for so long. You hate it.

Your arms wrap around her tightly as you take in her softness and her scent again. Her cheek is damp against your shoulder, your own eyes welling with relentless tears.

It feels like stiff fingers prodding at your throat and your chest: it makes you want to curl into a ball. You’re horrified at the idea of a life without her, especially one where you know she’s still walking around. But it’s either drown or freefall, and you need to give yourself a chance.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you mutter into her neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m sorry too.”

She holds you as wave after wave of bittersweet relief and regret crash over you, and you fall asleep in each other’s arms once more. The next morning she helps you gather your things.

[thecharacterchronicler]

Mandrakes, dusty books & an apology (Part 3) || Sebastian Sallow || Smut

Outline: You’re still managing to hide your pregnancy, but jealousy and mood swings are complicating everything.

Warnings: aged up characters, friends with benefits, (accidental / secret) pregnancy, body insecurities/self deprecation, explicit smut

(( Part 1 - Exams, poltergeists & supply closets )) - (( Part 2 - Friends with benefits… & a baby ))

Your bad mood reached an all time high when you sat down at your station in Professor Garlick’s greenhouse, feeling far too exhausted to be gardening and the constant hunger you felt made you overly grumpy. Even Ominis knew better than to sit next to you, preferring a seat closer to where the teacher stood, next to Sebastian.

You couldn’t care less about your teacher’s monologue about mandrakes today, the enthousiasm and passion in her speech you usually loved was grating on your nerves lately, even more so when you noticed how Sebastian was very attentive to her .

It wasn’t a secret that that idiot had a big crush on your herbology professor, he had been very vocal about it for the past three years actually, always whispering inappropriate comments in Ominis’s ear or cracking vulgar jokes about it with Garreth. Habitually, you didn’t mind, knowing it was just harmless banter between him and the other guys. But with his baby growing inside you, you suddenly felt a bit too possesive to let him shamelessly stare at Professor Garlick’s beautiful face without feeling jealous.

It didn’t help that, as Sebastian so diplomatically put it this morning, you were becoming pretty huge. He wasn’t wrong, but a bit of tact would have been nice, especially considering the mood swings you had been dealing with since you entered your fourth month of pregnancy. He needed to be careful because the murderous rage you felt at times might as well backfire against him one day.

You caught yourself resting your hand over your round belly, an habit you couldn’t help but that unmistakably brought people’s attention to it. You didn’t expect your stomach to look like a basketball so early on, confident that you would be able to hide it under large clothes for at least until your last trimester but that baby sure seemed too big and too strong to go along with your plan. You knew it was now just a matter of time until one of your professors noticed and sent you to the headmaster’s office for a talk. For now, your winter clothes still did the trick, concealing your curves and making it seem reasonable to simply assume that you might have gone crazy on chocolates and sweets after Valentines’ day but in a short few weeks, it would be spring and then summer, and covering yourself up with thick wool shirts would no longer be an option.

“Now I’d like you to pair up and care for the plants.” Professor Garlick demanded and you sighed, louder than you meant to.

Sebastian still had his eyes glued to your lovely looking herbology teacher. No wonder it was one of the rare classes in which he struggled to keep his grades up, he was constantly distracted by the young professor instead. Maybe he was hoping to pair up with her for a special lesson, but it was Ominis who was chosen to change the mandrakes’ pots with her. You weren’t sure that it was a really fun task, but the boy who knocked you up sure looked disappointed to be missing out on this opportunity.

He walked to where you were sitting, resigned to pair up with you and you could not help but feel upset that you weren’t his first choice. You saw his warm brown eyes momentarily trace the curve of your belly, the panic you saw in his gaze when you had told him that you were pregnant always present on his face since then.

“What’s wrong ?” He asked you. Oh, how annoying that he was capable of reading the expressions on your face like an open book. “Is it the baby ?”

“No. The baby’s fine.” You answered, and the amount of relief that softened his features took you by surprise, making you realize how much he cared for your unborn child. His child.

“Then what is it ?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, focusing on the hungry Chinese chomping cabbages sprouts in front of you. Those were tricky to feed and required your full attention.

“By Merlin, what did I do this time ?” He asked, rolling his eyes. You glared at him for a moment, uncertain of how to feel. A part of you felt truly emotional from realizing how well he knew you but another part of you wanted to slap him in frustration. How could he be so unaware of his annoying behavior ?

“I’m just upset because you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

“I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have ! You didn’t even want to be paired up with me right now.” You snapped back, cautiously feeding one of the cabbages.

“I didn’t want to have to take care of these annoying little things, they are the worse…” He explained, not paying enough attention to the sprout next to him, visibly too eager to eat out of his hand to wait for Sebastian to focus on it, so he chomped down on his fingers. “Ouch !”

You looked away to hide your grin, the satisfaction you felt from the cabbage’s vicious attack was a nice reprieve for your bottled up anger and frustration.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Professor Garlick will take good care of you.” You eventually said, your tone so bitter that it spoke volumes of what the reason for your bad mood really was. You stood up and excused yourself, leaving the class early.

Sebastian stared at you in confusion as you walked out of the greenhouse, holding his bitten hand to his chest with a grimace of pain still lingering on his face.

“I messed up.” Sebastian declared, burying his face in his hands for a moment, unable to focus on the open book in front of him.

“That you did.” Ominis confirmed, his voice low enough to not be heard by anyone else.

“No, I mean today.” He clarified, trying to remember what he felt was important to write down in his notebook just a minute ago. “She’s clearly upset with me, she’s been avoiding me since our Herbology class this morning and I have no idea why.”

“I may have a few ideas, I can make you a list if you’d like.” Ominis retorted. Sebastian was about to counter with a witty comment but no words came out of his mouth when he saw you walk in the Great Hall with two large books in your arms.

He met your gaze and attempted to smile at you but you remained stoic and cold as you made your way to their table, sitting in front of both of your friends but only smiling at Ominis. Which wasn’t even fair since he couldn’t even enjoy such a lovely sight…

“Hey, Ominis.”

“Good afternoon.” He greeted you back, letting a moment of silence go by before leaning in towards Sebastian. “You’re right, she’s upset.”

“Oh, thanks for the heads up.” He groaned, sarcastically.

“My pleasure.”

You opened your books to study without paying them any attention, already rapidly writing down some notes on a parchement. Sebastian couldn’t help but stare at you, frustrated with your obvious disappointment in him but also hypnotized by your shirt, so tight over your voluminous breast that it left a gap between the buttons where the fabric was as stretched out as it could be.

“Is everything alright ?” He finally had the courage to ask you, struggling to peel his eyes away from the new curves of your body.

“Fantastic.” You replied coldly, without even bothering to look at him.

“I can tell that you are upset. Just tell me what’s wrong.” He insisted.

“Nothing.” You said, in a tone that suggested the total opposite.

“Please, I’d love to hear what this idiot did to upset you… Again.” Ominis pleaded, which was an odd way of supporting his best - and only - friend but Sebastian decided to let it slide.

“This idiot told me that I was becoming pretty huge this morning.” You snapped, glaring daggers in his direction. “And then, he proceeded to flirt with Professor Garlick during the whole class.”

“Have you ever heard of something called tact, Sebastian ?” Ominis sighed, shaking his head.

“I may have said that but it was just an observation, because your belly is showing more than what I thought it would in the beginning of your second trimester, that’s it.” Sebastian justified, but by the way your jaw clenched, it wasn’t helping diffuse the tension much. “And I did not flirt with Garlick.”

“You always flirt with Garlick.” Ominis stated, without hesitation.

“All the other guys do it, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe, but you’re the one who turned it into a competition.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Ominis ?” Sebastian asked, through clenched teeth.

“No, my schedule is cleared for the rest of the day.” He responded, smugly.

“You’re such a…” Sebastian started but stopped himself when he noticed that you had left while he was arguing with Ominis. “Crap.”

“A… Crap ? I’ve heard more creative insults than that.” Ominis reacted but he ignored him, jumping to his feet to try to find you. He needed to make things right again because he couldn’t stand knowing that you were upset, especially not when it was because of him.

He found you in the library, of course, hidden in an empty aisle with your books abandoned on the floor and an expression of hurt on your face that made his heart sink in his chest.

You slightly jumped when you saw him approaching, briefly meeting his gaze before pretending to look at a book on the shelf in front of you.

“Is Garlick really the problem ? Are you jealous of her ?” He asked, trying to be gentle but still managing to sound as if it was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard. “ It’s just a silly game between me and the other guys, nobody takes it seriously… Except Leander maybe.”

“Well, Garlick doesn’t have a big belly and swollen ankles, does she ? And even if she did, she’d probably still be pretty. Unlike me.”

“Oh please, you’re the prettiest girl in this school and you know it.” Sebastian snapped back, without hesitation but you still felt too bad to accept the compliment and move on. Your feelings were so confusing that you couldn’t help but need to pick up a fight, if only to let out some of your pant up anxiety and anger out.

“You told me I was huge !”

“Yeah, cause my baby is growing inside of you.” He justified, slightly too loud. He glanced around, making sure no one heard him before continuing with a lower voice. “Trust me, there’s nothing more glorious to me than the way your shirt barely fits your chest anymore. Your whole body is changing, getting rounder and plump and it’s driving me crazy, I can barely focus on my homework and I can barely focus on my work because all I can think about is how badly I want to touch you, all the time.”

His gaze wandered down your uniform, as if to mark his point, while his eyes dangerously darkened at the sight of the very curves he was talking about. Something warm and fuzzy bloomed in your heart at his words, knowing from the way he looked at you - like he could devour you - that he was saying the truth.

He reached out to place a hand on your belly for the first time, his thumb gently stroking it over the fabric of your shirt. He stepped closer - a lot closer - and his eyes moved downwards to your chest, where your shirt was indeed stretched out by the impressive new size of your breasts.

In the dimly lit corner of the library, nestled between the towering shelves of dusty tomes, a sense of forbidden excitement began to swirl around you. With Scribner’s desk out of sight, and the occasional cough from a nearby student serving as the only reminder of your surroundings, the tension between you grew thick enough to slice with a knife.

Sebastian’s eyes raked over your body, lingering on your round belly. His hand ghosted over the curve of your waist and he noticed how your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson in reaction, your eyes filling with a hunger that probably mirrored his own.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, the scent of old books mingling with your sweet perfume. His fingers danced over your swollen breasts, teasing the sensitive tips of your nipples through the fabric of your shirt until they stood at attention.

He felt your hands on his body, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake as they found their way to the very noticeable bulge in his pants. You firmly pressed your palm against it and it pulsed beneath your touch. The air grew heavy with desire, and the sound of his ragged breaths filled the otherwise quiet space.

He knew you both had to be careful; the risk of getting caught was part of the thrill. Scribner was known to patrol the aisles with the vigilance of a hawk, and the occasional rustle of pages or the squeak of a chair was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

He guided you between the dusty shelves, into the shadows of a more isolated corner, your bodies touching as he finally dared to press a kiss on your lips.

With a grin that was half mischief and half pure, unadulterated need, Sebastian knelt before you, your pregnant belly a gentle curve that led him down to the sweet promised land between your legs. He lifted your skirt up and pushed aside the damp fabric of your panties. His tongue darted out, tracing a path up your slit, teasing your clit with a flick that made you gasp. Your thighs trembled, and you leaned back against the cold wooden shelf behind you, your homework forgotten as he feasted on you. His mouth worked you in a symphony of pleasure, his tongue swirling around your swollen nub with an expertise that had your hips bucking towards him. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him closer, your breath coming in sharp gasps.

He slid his fingers into your welcoming heat, stretching your walls and curling in a way that visibly sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He could tell that you were close from the tension in your muscles and the warmth coating his tongue… But he suddenly heard Scribner’s footsteps growing closer, the sound of the rubber soles of her shoes a reminder of the world outside this bubble of lust.

Yet, rather than deterring him, it only spurred him on, encouraging him to drive you closer to the edge before someone might interrupt him and he’d lose his chance to redeem himself.

With a few more movements of his fingers and hungry flicks of his tongue, your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy convulsing around his digits. You bit your lower lip to keep quiet, but a soft moan still reached his ears, a satisfying sound that often haunted his sleepless nights.

He looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he licked his fingers clean, leaving you breathless. He stood up, his hair tousled from the way you had tugged on it, wiping his mouth and chin, still glistening under the faint light of this corner of the library. Then, he helped you adjust your skirt and the thick shirt over your belly, trying to conceal it.

“Do I deserve forgiveness now ?” He asked you, a smug grin on his lips.

“You do. But frankly, I’m not even sure I was allowed to be upset about it in the first place. It’s not like we’re together or anything. You have every right to avoid me if you want to…”

“I’m not avoiding you. I just put all of my free time to good use and run errands for people, I’m hoping to have enough money aside by summer to provide for the three of us until I can get a real job.”

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say at first, visibly surprised by his response. “I didn’t know that you were planning on helping out.”

“Of course I am.” He said, somewhat vexed. “Our baby will be the most spoiled kid in Feldcroft.”

“You want us to live in Feldcroft ?”

“Well I figured it was a good starting point since Solomon’s house is mine now. But we can settle anywhere you want.”

“I like Feldcroft, I always thought it looked like a nice place to live in...”

Sebastian instantly felt relieved. He didn’t have much to offer, but he was glad you weren’t opposed to the one thing he could provide.

“I was thinking that maybe we could stay there for spring break in a few weeks, so that we might be able to keep the secret from your parents a bit longer and you could see if you’re comfortable in the house. We could get started on the nursery as well… Are you crying ? Did I say something wrong ?”

He leaned closer to brush a teardrop off of your cheek and you smiled at him through your tears.

“It just… the hormones.” You justified, but he clearly didn’t believe you and neither did you, your throat tight and your heart bursting with joy at his words. But before you could manage to tell him how much it meant to you that he wanted to take care of you and your baby, a student approached to look at the books on the shelf next to where you were standing, making it impossible to keep talking about the secret you shared with your best friend.

You both tried to pretend like nothing had happened as you walked out of the library, but Sebastian couldn’t seem to fully conceal the cocky smile on his face, he felt slightly too proud of himself at the sight of your still slightly shaking legs and your adorably flushed cheeks, some lovely consequences of the intense pleasure he had managed to give you between the shelves.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Other stories:

[littlejuicebox]

A different kind.

Written for a prompt given to me by @coyote-mint! Thank you!

Also, peep this Dadstarion drawing by @supplementalfigures which I adore and is the inspiration for Astarion wearing baby Gale.

Summary: The Ancunins take their first outing as a family of three. They aren’t quite prepared for the new experience.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, family, parenthood, babies, Astarion being Astarion

*

Astarion protectively wraps his hands beneath the small infant in his arms. Gale is just under two months old and sleeping curled against his father, lulled by the steady thrum of the older man’s heart.

The little one is held snugly against Astarion’s chest with a wrap made of gauzy blue cotton, intricately embroidered one night by the previously-expectant father. Gold-threaded stars and planets dapple the inky night sky of the fabric, keeping the infant sleeping peacefully among the celestial bodies.

The stars certainly shine for Gale. At least in the Ancunin household.

The first outing as a family of three is to the newest shop in town, Rivington Raiments, the first fine clothier in the outer city. Both Astarion and you hoped this newest addition meant journeys into the city for every new garment would be a thing of the past.

Over the years, trips would have been even more frequent had your husband not been a fair clothing alterer himself. In the past nine months, he’d had to let out your favorite dresses more than once as your stomach grew to encompass the life that had been growing within.

But now, you’ve lost majority of the baby bump, and a few new pieces are in order to replace some of the well-worn garments currently in your closet.

The tailor fusses around you, placing pins in a winter-ready dress you’ve decided to try on. Astarion is watching with rapt interest as the middle-aged human woman adjusts the hem. He thinks that, in another life, that might have been him.

“How do I look?” You ask after you turn to face Astarion once the seamstress has finished pinning her proposed alterations.

“I think you’d look gorgeous in anything, darling,” Your husband remarks with a soft smile, his hand sliding from its resting spot under the bundle in his arms to lightly pat the infant’s back. He’s swaying gently as he speaks; the constant soothing movement while holding Gale has quickly become a habit for you both.

It’s a compliment, but he means it’s a no.

You nod your head in understanding and then turn to look at yourself in the mirror, feigning thought, before sighing and saying, “I believe I would like to think about this further before I make a purchase. But thank you for your time. Perhaps you could direct me to the children’s clothing once I change?”

As the seamstress busily works to unpin you, Astarion catches your eye and flashes you the briefest crinkled nose behind the woman’s back.

Ah, so he’d meant the dress was a hell no.

*

“Don’t you think you went a little overboard on your purchases, my love?” Astarion inquires as the two of you enter the local tavern for lunch.

“We go through so many diapers and burp cloths a day, it’s hard for the poor maid to keep up with the wash,” You respond, narrowing your gaze at your husband, “Just because you don’t have to wash them doesn’t mean we have enough.”

“Very well,” Your silver-haired spouse responds, choosing to avoid the argument though he cannot avoid rolling his eyes slightly as the two of you sit down.

Gale begins to stir against his father. The movements are followed by tiny grunts of disapproval coming from layers of cloth. Your husband manages to calm the infant, at least for a moment longer, with a few gentle caresses along the baby’s back.

A quick glance to the wall clock and the older elf warns, “Ah, I’m afraid it will be feeding time soon and my charms will no longer work, dear.”

The two of you place an order with the barmaid. She returns moments later with a pitcher of water and focuses her attention on the flash of silver hair peaking out from swaths of navy.

“I see the new addition is here,” She remarks, her hand moving to touch the all too tempting, downy soft patch of curls upon the baby’s head.

Astarion instantly intercepts the well-meaning gesture with his own hand, his mouth forming a thin line of irritation as he releases the woman’s wrist from his grip.

“I would thank you to not touch me or my children without consent, Beatrice. And certainly not without washing your hands first.” The male elf says, the normal gentility of his tone lost in favor of a much sharper one.

“O-oh, of course. I apologize, Lord Ancunin,” The barmaid responds, splotches of rose appearing across her face as she quickly takes a step back to increase her breadth from the infant.

Your husband gained a reputation for being highly litigious years ago. Though he slayed his enemies with contracts and court appearances rather than daggers nowadays, he was still seen as quite dangerous. No one has yet forgotten the dispute the Ancunins had with their neighbors over property lines shortly after the manor was purchased.

Perhaps Astarion had lied to get his way in that one. But what did your neighbors truly need with a single colonnade of fruit-bearing trees when you two held rights the rest of the orchard?

Beatrice quickly dismisses herself and heads to assist another table of customers. When Astarion turns his attention back to you, he spots your arms folded across your chest in signature displeasure and groans, readying himself for the chastisement.

“She’s going to spit in our food now, Astarion.” You remark with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh.

“She can spit in my food thrice if it means she doesn’t touch my vulnerable child,” Your husband retorts, his pale hand once again finding its habitual resting place along the infant’s back.

You shrug and give a vague wave your hand in a sign of truce. Because really, how can you argue against a protective father?

As if on cue, Gale begins to cry just as the barmaid places your orders on the table. It’s a loud, shrill, hungry wail, earning the two of you several bothered glares from other patrons scattered across the tavern.

“Oh, please, as if none of you have heard a crying baby before,” Astarion snaps, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear as he begins to pull Gale from the carrier. The elf tries in vain to soothe the babe, but as predicted, the little prince is demanding satiation.

You sneak one bite of mashed potato in your mouth and then sigh before gesturing for your husband to pass you the infant. Astarion gives you an apologetic look as he places the little one in your arms.

Unfortunately, daddy just doesn’t have the correct anatomy for this part of parenting.

Gale quickly finds a proper latch and stops crying as he searches for nutrients with happy hums. Astarion eats a few bites of his own meal and soon sets his sights on feeding you.

At first you refuse, already bothered by the prying eyes staring at your partially exposed breast — typical — and not wanting to attract further attention. Your husband throws the wrap over your chest and then stares as you expectantly.

The intensity of his eyes and the set of his jaw say you’re not getting out of this one. He’s going to feed you like a child since he cannot feed his own child in this moment.

It’s both embarrassing and adorable.

You watch the fork approach your face, keeping your lips firmly sealed in a final protest. But then both a narrowed glare and irritated huff from Astarion cause you to instantly open your mouth, where he places a few green beans upon your tongue.

“How do you expect Gale to have proper nourishment if you keep leaving your meals half finished, little love?” Your husband lectures before placing a bit of mashed potatoes in your mouth and planting an affectionate kiss upon the apple of your cheek.

The child in your arms coos in assent.

“See, the little prince even agrees with me,” Astarion remarks with a cheeky wink, taking a moment to steal a bite of food from his own plate.

This was the first time these two silver-haired little loves of yours formed a coup. It wouldn’t be the last.

You roll your eyes at your husband and then peer down at the baby nestled in your arms, suckling without a care in the world.

“Traitor,” You whisper, the word laced with more than enough affection to negate the connotation before placing a loving kiss on the crown of Gale’s head.

*

Your little family is almost all the way home when Astarion stops dead in his tracks with a look of horror plastered upon his face. He peers down at the small bundle of blue and baby with wide-eyed surprise.

“What— what is it?!” You practically shriek, motherly instincts jumping into anxious overdrive as you reach for the child tucked safely against his father.

Astarion quickly grabs your hand, much like he grabbed Beatrice’s earlier, though with a decidedly more gentle clasp. You can tell by his lack of panic that Gale is safe, and your initial reaction begins to wane as the elf lowers your hand away from your son.

“He pooped, dear,” Your husband sighs, a sudden wave of weary exhaustion slapping the still-new father in his face, “And if you stick your hand in the wrap, it’s going to be all over you… because it’s all over Gale… and me.”

The look upon Astarion’s face is hilarious. And you can’t help it, you simply have to laugh at the new father clinging to what little patience he has.

“Not. Funny.” The retired rogue hisses, narrowing his eyes at you before walking briskly in the direction of the house.

There was roughly a half mile left to the front of the property and he seemed intent on crossing that distance at rapid speed, “From now on we are always taking the carriage into town. With extra clothes and supplies for all of us. I don’t care how much you abhor it, Tav. Walking this far with a needy infant and scant supplies is simply impractical and we are not arguing about this further.”

As if to prove a point, Gale begins to shriek like he is suddenly aware he’s covered in his own filth. The sound causes Astarion to practically break into a sprint, both arms coming to hold the infant fast against his chest. You run after the two, trying to keep up, but your husband is moving so quickly you’d think he’s still a vampire if you didn’t know better.

*

The little prince is now clean and perfectly pink as you rock him in the nursery. The early afternoon sun is shining through the window, casting the two of you in an ethereal backlight. Gale has forgotten all about the poop incident; his father, on the other hand, will never be able to let go of this particular memory.

Astarion sits in the nursery with you two, sipping a cup of tea. His wet curls hang around his ears, still occasionally dripping water onto his house clothes. He admires you, and the sunlight dancing in your hair, watching as you hum an Elvish lullaby to the sleepy infant in your arms.

His memories quickly flash at the sight.

The day you told him you loved him.

The day you two won the battle.

The day you accepted his proposal.

The day he saw you walking down the aisle.

The day you told him you were pregnant.

He thought you were the most beautiful in every one of those moments, each one always outdoing the previous.

But this vision of you, right now, happy and calm, rocking the little prince you two created?

This certainly outdid all those prior memories.

After two hundred years of pure shit, Astarion is beyond thankful to now have over a decade of better memories.

Though, he’s beginning to see the next decade will also be full of shit.

Just a different, and somehow better, kind.

[obiwansito]

spineless in my tomb of silence

the great war - chapter one

playlist 𐐒𐐚 taglist ʚĭɞ fic masterlist

pairing- obi wan kenobi x f!reader

word count- 5,02k

summary- after a few days of feeling bad, you discover something that will change your life forever. how will you explain it to obi-wan, if he is thousands of light years away?

tags for this chapter- angst, fluff, unplanned pregnancy, discussions about pregnancy, anxiety, minor discusions, intrusive thoughts.

a/n- welcome to the first chapter of tgw. buckle up, this will be a wild journey. this fic has been on my mind since march, and i have planned great things for it. enjoy <3

“Kriff.” You whispered, getting up from the refresher mat, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. It was your second time vomiting so far this morning, and you had been like this for almost five days.

You had recently arrived from a long mission, and now you were on your break, stranded in the Jedi Temple teaching younglings.

Actually, you were grateful. You had spent nearly five months traveling across the Outer Rim to fight on the front lines, so finally getting back to your routine at home was a relief.

Of course, it had its cons. You had gotten used to seeing your partner, Obi-Wan, every day, as the council assigned you together on most missions because of your great teamwork. But unfortunately, he couldn't get a break, and was still in the Outer Rim with Anakin indefinitely.

Though deep down you were glad he wasn't here at the moment, as he constantly worried about you and you knew he would be worried if he knew you had caught an illness.

Or well, you wanted to think you were sick. But the timing of your period told you otherwise, and that had you quite worried. At first you thought you had eaten something bad, but you realized that your period was almost a month late. Maybe it was the stress of the war, or maybe....

You shook your head. No, it wasn't possible. That absolutely could not happen. It mustn't.

You decided to seek help from your closest friend outside the temple, the one you trusted the most and knew could help you with your little problem. Plus, as a bonus, she was the only one who knew about your relationship with Obi-wan.

The lift opened its doors, revealing a young woman sitting on the couch in her home. Her brown curls fell to the sides of her face, and a purple robe wrapped around her growing belly. It was Padme Amidala, senator of Naboo and your best friend.

Her face lit up when she saw you arrive, smiling at you and rising to give you a hug. “My dear! How have you been?”

“Padmé! Sorry for coming unannounced. To tell you the truth...I've been better. And you? How are you? And the baby?”

Your gaze lowered to your friend's baby bump.

When you arrived on Coruscant two weeks ago, you got the surprise of your life when you learned that your best friend was pregnant.

“ You're... what?!” Padmé laughed shyly, her hands caressing her swollen belly.

“It was a surprise to me, too. When I found out, I was alone and so scared. But now I'm more excited.”

“And Ani knows?”

Padmé exhaled, shaking her head. “No... How do you tell your secret Jedi husband that you're pregnant with his child by holo-call?”

You sighed. It was true, Anakin had also spent so much time away -even now- and hadn't seen his wife for nearly five months. Now you felt grateful that you had been able to spend so much time with Obi-wan. “If I've known Ani at all in the last thirteen years, I can assure you he'll go crazy. He loves you dearly, and I know he'll be very excited.”

Padmé looked at you with concern at what you said. “We're fine... But I'm beginning to wonder how much longer Ani will be out. I've had to live most of this pregnancy alone...” She complained, then looked at you, a little flushed. “Sorry, I'm just venting. Come, sit down. Would you like something to drink? I can tell Threepio to prepare something.”

You shook your head, sitting down next to her on the couch. “Oh no, dear, don't worry. I... well, I came to tell you something. Or rather, to ask you.”

“Sure, tell me.”

You gulped. Your heart was going a thousand miles a minute, this was about to become real. “How... how did you find out you're pregnant?”

She raised an eyebrow, hadn't expected that question. “Well... At first I was very queasy and throwing up, I also felt quite tired and my appetite had increased. I thought I was sick so I called a medical droid, and when he asked me the last date of my period I realized. Then he diagnosed me and well...here we are. why the question?”

You sighed, looking away. Apparently, your silence spoke for you, as Padmé gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth in surprise. “...You're joking, right?”

You shook your head, a knot in your throat. “I wish I was. But... I really don't know if I am... you know, or not.”

“What makes you think you are?

“For starters, I've been feeling exhausted these past few weeks. And a few days ago I started with nausea and throwing up. I thought I'd caught an illness or something, but today I checked my period calendar, and...”

“Kriff.”

“Yeah, kriff.’ You ran a hand through your hair, stressed. Now that you'd said it out loud, it was more real.

“All right, don't worry, I'm here to help you.” She rested her hand on your knee, with a reassuring look. “Here's what we'll do. I'll call a medical droid and he'll check you out. Don't worry, he's the one who attends to me, so none of this will leave from here.”

You nodded, your heart feeling warm from your friend's affection. “And whatever the result, you've got me. We're in this together, okay?”

You leaned in to hug her, whispering thanks. You felt tears threatening to come, you were so glad to have such an amazing friend like Padmé. Jedi were supposed to control their emotions, but right now you were failing a little bit at that. Maybe it was hormones... No. You had to think positive, it was probably something else, you weren't unlucky enough to get pregnant in the middle of a devastating war.

Half an hour later, you were lying on Padmé's bed, a medical droid examining you. “How long is your period overdue now?”

“Almost a month.” You mumbled. Padmé was sitting next to you, one hand on her belly and the other holding yours gently.

“Very well, I have your diagnosis.” Announced the droid after analyzing the results. “Miss... Naberrie?” you nodded. You had given Padmé's real last name so there would be no data of yours reaching the temple. “You are pregnant, approximately six weeks. Congratulations.”

Your heart dropped. You felt Padmé get up and escort the droid out, but your mind was elsewhere. This can't be happening. Your breathing was racing, your gaze fixed on one point in the room as your thoughts collapsed. What am I going to do? This is bad.

You were pale, an uncomfortable warmth running down your neck. Your eyes, wide open, couldn't focus on anything clearly. The air seemed to become thick, and it took you a second to breathe normally.

Padmé came back into the room and sat down across from you, but you didn't look at her. I'm going to be expelled from the Order... Obi-wan is going to leave me. I was so stupid. This can't be happening...

“Hey, hey. Look at me. It's going to be alright, okay?”

You didn't listen to her, you felt a storm in your head, messing up everything you had structured so perfectly. This isn't real. This can't be...

“Hey. Look at me, beautiful.” His hands were now on your cheeks, but you weren't reacting. You hadn't realized it, but you were crying.

Padmé called your name, and you finally snapped out of your thoughts. You looked at her, her eyes were wide and she was looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes... yes. I'm fine.” You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, taking a deep breath. You were a Jedi, you couldn't let yourself get carried away with emotions like that. You had been raised not to.

“Alright...Listen to me.” She took your hands in hers. “It's going to be okay. You're going to tell Obi-wan?”

“Well...yes. But, I guess we're in the same boat now.” You let out a chuckle, even though you weren't having fun. “How the kriff do I tell my Jedi boyfriend that I'm pregnant when he's thousands of light years away?”

“Tell me.” Padmé sighed. “How do you think he'll react?”

“I don't know. I mean, it's not like we never brought it up.” Your mind wandered to a conversation they'd had months ago, in their quarters at the Negotiator. “We talked about our lives if we weren't... you know, Jedi Generals in a war that seems to have no end.”

“And what did you say?”

“We'd get married.” You smiled sadly. “We'd go to Naboo -sorry to steal your idea- and we'd have a cabin in Lake Country. Just us and nature.”

“That's beautiful. And the kids?”

“One or two.” You sighed, wiping away tears. “It was...a particularly difficult day, and we'd still be fighting the next day. We thought maybe, you know, it would be the end of us.” You shrugged. “So that's why we set about planning our life in an alternate universe.”

“Hey.” You looked at her. “It's still possible, you know, I've been planning... Maybe I shouldn't say this, but... Some senators and I want to end the war diplomatically. No more invasions, no more sieges. No more death. So our happy ending is still possible. Obi-wan and you, Ani and me. We can be free. Our children could be friends.” You both laughed. “It will be all right, you'll see.”

You nodded. Maybe you were indeed being pessimistic. It wasn't all over.

“There's something else.”

“Yes?”

“That day, Obi-wan told me something. He said that... If I wanted him to leave the Order, I just had to say the word. And he would do it.”

“That's good, isn't it? You can do that. I'll help you in any way I can.”

“No, no. It's just... I know he said it, and I know he means it. But he knows I would never ask him to do that.” You swallowed hard. “The Order is his life, Padmé. I've never seen a Jedi as dedicated as he is. I know, I know we break a thousand rules every day to be together, but besides that, he just... It's what he's made for. And I don't want to be the one to take that away from him.”

“Listen to me. Obi-wan loves you too much, my dear. I know you guys think you're better at hiding your relationship than we are, but it's the little details that make me realize how much he loves you. The way he looks at you, how he talks about you... Kriff, he doesn't know that I know, but when we're talking and he mentions you... I can tell he's deeply in love.”

You smiled, your heart felt warm. “You are more important than anything, more important than the Order, than everything. And he knows that. So you don't have to worry about that, okay?” she stroked your cheek. “It's going to be all right, dear.”

You sniffled, trying to hold back your tears. “Thank you, Padmé. Really. You're wonderful. You know how to comfort me so well, even though you're in the same situation.”

“You don't have to thank me, darling. You know I'm here for you. And I know you're here for me. We'll work it out. We don't need men if we have each other.”

You laughed, nodding and leaned in to hug her. She was right. No matter what happened, at least you'd always have your best friend by your side.

You stayed for another hour in Padmé's apartment, chatting and making plans for when her baby was born. She only had one more month to go, so she told you how she wanted to paint the baby's room at the Naberrie residence on Naboo.

It was past noon when you arrived at the temple. You had one more hour before your class with the younglings, so you would take advantage of it to go to the dining hall. Usually you would prepare something in your quarters, but you were tired. Hopefully, they would serve something good... Or at least something that tasted okay.

As you walked through the halls, you came across a couple of kids running around. Among them, was Kyla, a togruta from your class.

“Slow down, little ones. You might get hurt.”

“Sorry, master!”

The little girl came up to you. She was ten years old and one of the best in the class. “Master, you will teach us today, won't you?”

“That's right, dear.” You crouched down to be on her level. “Lightsaber training. Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

You laughed at her enthusiasm. “Good. I'll see you in class, okay?”

She nodded, and you patted her back, standing up as you watched her go.

You had met Kyla when she was still a little kid, about five years ago. At that time, the temple was a better place. Now everything felt dark, empty. The aftermath of such a terrible war.

"Fond of the little one, you have grown, hmm?" you jumped as you heard those words behind you. You turned around, finding the grand master of the Jedi.

“Master Yoda, you frightened me.”

“Distracted you are. Otherwise, with the force you would have detected me.”

“I'm sorry, Master. I was just watching the younglings... It grieves me to know that they are growing up in the midst of a war.”

“Worry, you must not. Our best effort, we give, so future generations suffer, they will not."

“You are right.”

“To the dining room, you were going?” He pointed down the hall.

“That's right, I'm going to get something to eat before my next class.”

"Leave you, I will, then. Good luck, Master."

You nodded, and gave a little bow to leave. But his voice calling your name stopped you again. "A Padawan, good for you, it would be."

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean, master?”

“If you wanted, Kyla your padawan could be. Small she is still, but in a couple of years she'll be ready.”

You smiled. Your own apprentice. “I would love that, master.”

"Settled, it is, then."

He walked away, leaving you alone. You thought for a moment about what having a Padawan involved. Of course, you would love it, and a Jedi had to have one sometime, yes or yes. You had been lucky enough to be promoted to Master for your front-line achievements, but that didn't mean you shouldn't have one anymore. And you adored Kyla, she was a very smart and strong kid. You would make a great team.

Your chest hurt. Although you were trying to avoid thinking about it, it was inevitable. You were pregnant. There was no way out of it, no easy solution. You couldn't stay in the Order once the Council found out.

But that was hurting you, because you wanted to train her. She had so much potential and you could help her reach her maximum.

You were going to have to abandon her and all your children, whom you adored as if they were your own.

You shook your head, dispelling those thoughts. You had to focus on the present, then you would figure out the rest.

As it turned out, you might have been better off preparing something yourself in your quarters. The food at the Temple was, as always, terrible.

You were about to finish your... whatever it was they had served you, when you were approached by a pink twi'lek. It was Sammi, one of your oldest temple friends. You had met when you were barely younglings, and though you had drifted apart when you became padawans, the friendship was still there.

She called your name, coming to sit next to you. “How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I got back a couple of weeks ago, I was sent to be a part of the sieges in the Outer Rim.”

The twi'lek raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. What's it like to be on the front lines?”

Sammi was a Jedi healer, and worked in the temple's medical center, assisting Head Medical Officer Vokara Che. Therefore, she hadn't been sent to fight in the war like you.

“It's... difficult. I know we've been at war for almost four years, but I'm still not used to it.”

“I understand. You're going to stay on Coruscant for a while?”

You sighed. “I hope so, but I wouldn't be surprised if the Council decides to send me back soon.” You glanced at the clock on the wall, you were already running late. “Kriff.”

You stood up, grabbing your tray. “I'd love to stay longer talking, but I have classes. We can meet some other time, catch up.”

She smiled at you, nodding. “Yes, please. We can hang out at 79s, I might run into that lieutenant from your battalion...what was his name, Bones?”

You laughed. Sammi had never been the type to follow the rules, but you couldn't judge her as you weren't innocent either. “Yes, Sams, it's Bones. I'll tell Forge to go with the boys. I heard around that he thought you were cute...”

You liked chatting with Sammi. You felt like a teenage Padawan again, not a Master Jedi General with a hidden pregnancy.

The temple was quiet when you left your last class. It was getting dark, the wind filtered through the wide windows and made you shiver. You had spent a good time with the younglings, those children were hungry for learning and you were more than happy to teach them everything you knew.

You were on your way to your room when you noticed someone approaching you. As you turned around, you found Plo Koon, your master. He called your name warmly.

“Master.”

“My dear. How have you been?”

“Very well, but a little busy. You know, teaching Younglings.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. You have a gift with those little ones, you know?”

“I worry about them. And for their learning. I fear the war is diverting us from our beliefs as Jedi...”

“I understand why you think that. But don't torture yourself, it will all get better eventually.”

You smiled at him. You were grateful, you couldn't have had a better master. He had always supported you in everything, listened to you and gave you the best advice, even though you were no longer his apprentice.

“I was looking for you, actually.” You looked at him curiously. “I was sent to lead the battle in Cato Neimoidia. We leave in the morning.”

You nodded. In the last three years, you had grown used to farewells like that. “Give Wolffe my regards.”

“I will.” You had fought several times alongside your master and his battalion, so you had had the opportunity to get to know the commander. At first you didn't get along so well, but over time you had learned to deal with his strong personality.

You sighed. You could guess what would happen next. “Now, my child...” He took you by the shoulders affectionately. “As always, take care of yourself. Don't fight too much with the council, and be patient with the younglings.”

You felt like a Padawan again. “I will, Master.”

“And remember, don't let hard times detract from your peace. Emotions are part of you, but you must not let them control you.” You nodded, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He probably felt your stress in your bond. “I won't take up any more of your time, you must be tired.”

“You would never do that, master.” You both smiled at each other. “May the force be with you.”

“And with you, my old padawan.”

He watched you for a moment, his gaze transmitting a peace you had always admired. Then, with a final squeeze of your shoulders, he let you be on your way.

You closed the door to your quarters, you were finally home after a long day. After taking a long shower, and changing into your sleeping robes, you lay down on your bed with your datapad.

You had decided to do a few missing mission reports before going to sleep, but a message on your comlink distracted you. As you turned it on, Obi-wan's warm voice flooded your room.

“Hello, darling. Sorry I haven't checked in all day, I've been a little... busy. Anyway, I know it's already dark on Coruscant. If, hopefully, you're not asleep, give me a call. I have a lot to tell you.”

You smiled, dialing his contact. He answered immediately, looking very tired. His hair was slightly messy, he had dark circles under his eyes and a frown. But his gaze softened at the sight of you.

“Darling."

“Hey, love.” You nestled your holo-projector on top of some books. “Where are you?”

“In a utility closet on Yularen's ship.” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed a little. “ Apologies for making you call me so late. You must be busy.”

“Oh no, don't worry about it. I was going to try to report on some missions, but you know... it's really boring. I'd rather talk to you.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. You could tell something was bothering him.

“Are you okay, how did the battle go?”

“It was quite alright. Anakin ended up saving us with a crazy strategy, as usual.”

“Sounds like something he would do.”

“Oh, you would have loved it. The 501st has some new jetpacks that... Sorry, I am rambling.”

“No, that's okay. Tell me about it.”

“No, it's just that...” He sighed. “Something happened, darling.”

Your chest sank. Those words could mean so many things, good or bad. You were mentally preparing yourself when Obi-wan spoke again. “Ahsoka called.”

Your eyes grew wide, staring at him in surprise. You hadn't heard from her since she left the Order, months ago. “What?”

“That's right.”

“And Ani... how is he?”

“In shock.”

“Maker.” You sighed. “And- What happened? Is she okay? In trouble?”

“She's fine. It's just...” He ruffled his hair, an action he did when he was stressed. “'Maul's been found.”

You looked at him silently for a few seconds. You sure looked a little dumb, your mouth hanging open in shock. It took you a while to find your voice again, muttering, “You must go get him.”

“We don't have any information yet. Right now, Ahsoka and Bo-Katan are coming, they'll give us all the information...”

“Wait. Bo-Katan? ...Kryze?”

He nodded. He didn't need to say anything else, for you knew very well who she was.

“Well then wait for them to arrive, and go with them. It's time to finish him off once and for all.”

“It's not that simple, love. And you know it.”

You frowned. “Maul has been causing damage for years. You have a chance to finally defeat him and... what are you waiting for, the council's approval?”

“From what they said, Maul is probably back on Mandalore. You know that because of its neutrality, the Republic can't interfere in the affairs of...”

“That's crap, and you know it, Obi-wan.” He looked at you, a mixture of confusion and surprise in his gaze. “Since the start of the war, we've interfered quite a few times in Mandalore's affairs. You've done it several times. Why not now?”

“It's different. We're talking about a possible siege and...”

“Then do it. I'll go help you myself, love. We're talking about Maul, the thing that has done you nothing but harm. He killed Qui-Gon, he killed Satine...”

From the way his expression changed, and even how he felt in the force, you realized you had come a bit far. You hadn't mentioned Satine since months ago, when Obi-wan had arrived from Mandalore, crying in your arms, for she had died while he was holding her.

“I'm so sorry, I got carried away, I...”

“It's alright.” He interrupted you. “You're right. I'll talk to the Council tomorrow, I'm sure we'll come to a conclusion.” He gave you a smile with his lips pressed together. “Now... can we change the subject?”

“Of course.” You nodded, and his gaze softened.

“How have you been, how's life on Coruscant?”

Your hand automatically rested on your belly. Shit, with so much that had happened, you had forgotten the small detail of your pregnancy. You were thankful Obi-wan could only see your face, otherwise he definitely would have noticed your action.

“Well... They put me back to teaching the little ones. Kyla's gotten a lot better with her lightsaber.”

“Oh yeah?” You had told him about the little one a while back. It was obvious she was one of your favorites.

“Yep. And... I talked to Master Yoda.” He raised an eyebrow. “She can probably be my Padawan. When she's older, in a year or two.”

Obi-wan smiled at you at what he said. “That's amazing, darling. You'll see, having a padawan isn't all it's cracked up to be...”

“Oh well, you say that because you taught Anakin. That's just bad luck, darling.”

They both laughed. “You say that like you weren't his adventure partner growing up. I swear, Plo Koon and I were seriously done.”

“Isn't that a little weird?”

He tilted his head. “What is?”

“That...well, you and I are dating. I mean...you could have been my master. I grew up next to your Padawan. Isn't that weird?”

“It's very different, darling.”

“Why?”

"Well, first of all, you could never have been my Padawan. You're older than Anakin, and I agreed to train him because... you know." No need to bring up past traumas here. "The relationship between a Master and his Padawan is an incredibly sacred thing, and it's nothing like the bond we have. Besides, we barely spoke back then. You were with your friends, with Anakin or with your Master. And we noticed each other when the war started. So no, I wouldn't say it's that weird." He paused. "Darling? Are you listening to me?"

You shook your head, snapping out of your mind. You were distracted by his beauty. It sounds cliché, yes, but you could listen to this man talk for hours and never get tired of it. Shit, you missed him so much.

"Oh, yes. But not everything you say is true."

"What do you mean?

"Mmm, well, maybe, and just maybe, I had a crush on you when I was a teenager."

Obi-Wan let out a surprised chuckle. "Really?

"Yes... But it was a platonic crush. I never thought anything would actually happen."

You were both silent, just admiring each other for a few seconds. You had been through so much, but yout love only felt stronger.

"I miss you." Obi-Wan whispered, looking tenderly at you.

Your chest filled with warmth. You had been stressed all day and hadn't thought about how much you missed your dear. "I miss you too."

And it dawned on you, you could tell him. It was Obi-Wan after all. Maybe it wasn't the best news to deliver through a holocall, but you knew you could work it out together. You trusted him more than anything.

You were about to say something to him when voices came out of the hologram.

"Kark. It's Anakin." He whispered. "He's going to find me with the Force, I have to get out of here."

But before he hung up, he looked into your eyes again. "Rest, my love. I love you."

You smiled at him and replied, "I love you too," before the hologram disappeared.

The sun was just rising when you woke up. It was still early, so you took your time to shower, get ready, and even make a small breakfast before heading out.

The morning was quiet, some Jedi were walking around with their datapads, Padawans and Younglings were rushing to their first classes of the day. You considered going out into the courtyard to meditate, as it helped clear your mind.

What you enjoyed most about being in the temple was the peace. With every step you took, you felt a deep calm, something that was characteristic of the Order.

But as you walked, something changed. At first it was so slight that you hardly noticed it. You felt it in the Force, a slight pulse, a dark echo. It was cold, something that barely touched the edges of your mind, but there it was.

The further you went, the more the perfect silence was broken. The lights seemed to dim and there was something heavy in the atmosphere. You noticed that your footsteps slowed a little, and a tension began to form in the back of your mind. It was as if the air was charged with something you couldn't see, but was ready to burst forth.

And then you heard it. A buzzing sound that grew louder as the seconds passed. It became a thunderous and intense sound. You looked up at the sky, and your gaze was filled with horror as you discovered the source of the sound.

Ships. Dozens of ships invading the planet.

The temple was tense. Jedi and Padawans stopped and looked at each other, all as confused as you were.

The buzzing became a roar. More ships, closer and closer.

A tremor shook the ground as the first explosion was heard in the distance. In a second, screams broke the silence and sirens began to wail.

Without thinking, you began running toward the center of the temple. You had barely processed the chaos when you saw Mace Windu, walking steadily, his face really serious. More than it had been since you had known him.

"Master Windu." You approached. You had barely noticed that you were trembling. "What is going on?"

He looked at you, his dark eyes telling you the gravity of the situation. "Grievous is here." He announced. "Coruscant is under attack."

And in that moment, you knew everything would change.

next chapter 𖥔 ͙ࣳ ⸰ֺ⭑

© obiwansito, 2024. reposts, copies and translations are not allowed. my work cannot be used for training AI.

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART TWO : CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader

summary: in which the sully family grows

word count: 3.1k

AO3 | prev | next

Never in your entire life did you imagine you would have such happiness. This type of happiness that could only be told through fairy tales. And you never thought your life was a fairytale.

But when Jake stood in the center of the circle the entire clan created, holding your newborn baby girl in the air, you could’ve sworn that this was the dream. That this was the fairytale you had imagined long ago. That you had forgotten.

And when Jake said your daughter’s name, it all became so real.

“Tsa’te!”

Despite having her for a few weeks now, you still remember the pregnancy months as if it was yesterday. You remember being pretty stubborn in the beginning. You thought that just because you were pregnant did not mean you were going to be rendered useless. Much to Jake’s dismay, you continued to grab your spear for hunts as if it were any other regular day. Even when you were beginning to show.

“Can’t you take just one day of rest?” Jake asked you one day as you grabbed your spear for yet another hunt. He frowned at your weapon, glancing from it and your small swollen stomach. “You won’t be missing anything, Doc, Just please, rest for one day? Maybe more?”

You rolled your eyes as Neytiri, who was playing with Lo’ak and Kiri, chuckled, “I promised since I joined the clan I’d be useful, Jake. I’m not gonna stop now just because I’m a little pregnant.”

“And you are useful,” Jake told you, grabbing your arms and pulling you close to him. “And that’s not gonna change if you take a day to rest.”

That’s when Neytiri chimed in, “Ma’Jake, she can still hunt. She’s not far along and my mother says she’s fine to do so.” She picked up Lo’ak as she stood, giving Jake arm a squeeze, “Enough worrying, skxawng.”

Jake rolled his eyes as you grinned, “My own two mates are turning against me. Nothing new, still doesn’t hurt any less.”

“Eywa help me, please don’t let my child be as dramatic as my oh so loving husband.” You teased, leaving a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be fine, Puppet. And if  something does happen, God forbid, I’ll have Ezì with me. Plus, it wouldn’t be the first time he dragged me back to camp after a reckless day.”

Jake cringed at the memory but didn’t protest any further. Kiri appeared next to your leg, looking up at the two of you curiously. Jake smiled down at her, placing his larger hand on her smaller head before saying to you, “Just make sure the both of you are careful, okay?”

“No promises!”

“Y/N.”

Then there were the days you began to get bigger and it became harder to go hunting. Your feet always ache and there was a point where your daughter kept kicking inside of you every few minutes. So much so to the point where it was too distracting to go on hunts anymore.

Obviously, you were pretty sour about this but your bad mood didn’t last too long when Kiri started staying close to you at all times once you decided to stay back at the camp. Lo’ak and Neteyam were with Neytiri most of the time, but whenever she went on a hunt as well, they’d be right by your side just as much as Kiri. Spider was the same whenever he was allowed to visit.

One day, you were lying in your hammock with Kiri sleeping on top of you. Jake returned to your tent, surprised to find the both of you there.

“You look comfortable.” He grinned at you as he placed his weapons down.

You glared at him, “Stay away from me you demon. My feet are achy because of you.”

Jake still walked over toward the hammock and lied down next to you. Kiri woke from her little nap and stared at Jake tiredly, “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, baby girl.” She crawled over to lie on top of him, laying her little head on his chest.

You sat up slightly, “She hasn’t left my side since you and Tiri left.” You watched Jake practically melt while holding Kiri and chuckled, “Who would’ve thought that big strong Toruk Makto would be undone by his own little girl.”

Jake smiled amusingly as he placed his hand on your stomach, “How’s Sully number four?”

“Pretty calm today. Not as many kicks compared to yesterday. I think she’s resting today, just like mommy.” You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. As a couple of years had passed, you  began to grow into your new body. Your hair had grown, you  got used to the Na’vi clothing, hell, you don’t even speak English as much as you used to anymore. Some days, you forget you technically weren’t fully Na’vi.

“How do you know it’s a she?” Jake raised a brow curiously.

You shrugged, “Just a gut feeling ya know? Plus, Mo’at told me, so there’s that.”

A smile tugged at your lips at the stunned reaction from your husband. Jake sat up a little, staring at you in disbelief, “We’re having a baby girl?”

“Yeah.” You grinned, heart elated at his reaction. “I didn’t know if you wanted it to be a surprise or not so I’ve kind of kept it to myself until now.”

Jake brought his hand to your cheek, gently pulling you toward him as he pressed his lips against yours. He smiled at you, eyes sparkling with blissful happiness. “No, no, this is amazing! I didn’t even know you were that far along to tell yet.” He continued pressing kisses on your face, a giggle leaving your lips as he did. He pulled away slightly, to get a better look at you, his hand never leaving the side of your face, “How’re you feeling?”

You gave a small shrug, “I was a little nervous at first…” Glancing down at the sleeping Kiri, you gently tucked a short lock of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t have the best example of a mother growing up…Not until Grace really. Even then I don’t know the first thing about being a mother. Still to this day, I don’t understand how Grace did it.”

When you lied back down, Jake rested his head on your shoulder, humming into your skin, “You’re already such a great mother to the kids, Doc. I don’t doubt that you would be a fantastic mother to our baby girl.”

“I know, I know.” You’ve voiced this fear before when you first told him you were pregnant. And he said something similar to you before. Still, it didn’t make the fear go away entirely. But it was nice, having someone there with you, to let you know that you would be okay. Oftentimes you were the one that had to convince yourself of this. Jake closed his eyes, his face gentle and peaceful as he listened to your heartbeat. You let out a gentle sigh, “Who would’ve thought. Me as a mother.”

You felt Jake chuckle against you, “I’ve dreamed of this day the moment I set eyes on you.” He lifted his head up to press another long kiss against the corner of your mouth “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Oh Sully.” A grin tugged at your lips as you ran your hand through his thick locs, “Who knew you were such a romantic.”

“I like to think I’m full of surprises.”

As the two of you grinned, soon the rest of the Sullys entered the room. Lo’ak and Neteyam saw the both of you lying in the hammock together and ran toward the both of you. Lo’ak was the first to crawl into the hammock, “Dad! I caught a fish today!”

“Really? How big?” Jake asked, sitting up slightly as Lo’ak crawled onto him.

“Really big!” The boy grinned excitedly.

Neytiri climbed in the hammock next to Jake while Neteyam climbed in next to you. He looked at you curiously, “Did you tell Dad that we’re having a sister yet?”

Jake gawked while Neytiri smiled in excitement for you, “You’re having a girl?!”

“You told Neteyam first?!”

You rolled your eyes at your husband’s dramatics, “Technically, Neteyam was with me when Mo’at told me what I was having. I told him to keep it to himself until I told you.” You hugged the boy close to your side, “He’s my good little secret keeper.”

“He gets it from his mother.” Neytiri nodded proudly.

“We’re getting a sister!” Lo’ak cheered excitedly. “Will she be nicer than Kiri?”

“Hey.” Jake scolded gently, fighting back a smile.

Neytiri caressed her son’s cheek lovingly, “If she’s anything like her mother…”

Lo’ak frowned, “Mom’s not mean.”

Jake snorted, “To you all.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, “Just because she’s mean to you, Dad, doesn’t mean she’s mean.”

Neteyam grinned while you held back a laugh at the offended look on your husband’s face. Neytiri chuckled, “He’s been spending a lot of time with Y/N.”

“Clearly.” Jake grumbled.

When Tsa’te was born, when you saw your little girl’s eyes for the first time, you swore to yourself, just like with the other kids, that you would protect her from the world. You would do anything to keep that little toothless smile on her face. And soon, similar to Jake, you began worrying about the day the Sky People would return. Before, you didn’t think much about it and decided to stay focused on this new life, on your happiness, on living your life as Na’vi now.

Even though you kept these fears to yourself, you knew Jake could tell it was bothering you too now. You knew that Neytiri noticed it, but like you, tried to be optimistic, tried to continue living life. And so, you followed her example. All you focused on was your little star.

You stood under the Tree of Souls as you connected Tsa’te’s queue to one of the stems for the first time. Establishing a connection with Eywa. It was a tradition if you remembered correctly. Both Jake and Neytiri told you about it before the day had come, explaining that they had done it with Lo’ak, Neteyam, and Kiri.

Jake appeared next to you, his hand squeezing your waist as the both of you stared fondly at your daughter, “How is she?” He asked.

“Curious.” You chuckled as your daughter kept moving her head around to look at her surroundings. “Not even a few months old and she’s already becoming my little handful.”

Jake grinned, “Sounds just like her mother.”

“Nah, sounds more like her Jarheaded father.”

“Easy.” He playfully warned as he pressed a kiss against your head and then one on Tsa’te’s forehead.

Eventually, you gave Tsa’te over to Mo’at so that the Tsahik could pray for the All Mother to watch over her and accept her as the newest member of the Omatikaya.

Soon, the ceremony ended. You separated from Jake and Neytiri, taking Tsa’te with you in your baby carrier as you did. With the promise of returning soon and after telling Lo’ak that he could come another time with her, you set out on a short trip to the lab, with a babbling Tsa’te attached to your chest.

Fortunately, the lab wasn’t too far from where you lived. So you were there in no time. Tsa’te, thankfully didn’t get too agitated, far too busy taking in her new surroundings as you entered the labs to greet Norm and Max.

“Wow, Doc, it’s like a mini you.” Norm chuckled when he saw Tsa’te. “Who would’ve thought?”

You grinned, “Yeah, but give it a couple of years. She may have my looks but I have this feeling that she will end up a lot like Jake.”

Max smiled while Norm snorted, “Good luck.”

After covering your daughter’s eyes and flipping Norm off, you moved toward the avatar tubes to find Grace’s avatar where it always was.

You had visited the labs a few times in the past just to see Grace’s avatar. And every time you did, both Norm and Max left you alone. They probably knew you’d talk to her quietly, if they did they didn’t let anything on because they knew this was a private moment for you, whenever you came to see her. And you would keep doing so, even if it seemed trivial.

“Hey, Grace.” You smiled, gently placing your hand on the glass of the tube. Of course the avatar didn’t register your presence. “I want you to meet someone.”

Carefully, you took Tsa’te out of the carrier and held her, allowing her head to rest on your chest as you did. A grin made its way to your lips, “This is Tsa’te. Tsa’te, this is Grace. You weren’t born when she was around but Grace was the best scientist and human I knew. When the Omatikaya tell you tales of the horrible Sky People, just remember that Grace was one of the good ones. Same as your father. Same as I.”

Tsa’te looked down at the avatar with her large eyes. Her thumb halfway in her mouth. You chuckled. “I think she’ll understand the meeting a lot better when she’s older, Grace. But yeah, this is my daughter. Like Norm said, who would’ve thought, huh?” Tsa’te giggled when you chuckled, clearly having no clue what it was that was funny but laughing anyway because you were. “Kiri’s doing well. She and the boys are getting older by the day. It’s like I blink and they’re the next age. I don’t want them to grow up just yet.”

You watched the avatar twitch before letting out a quiet sigh, “I miss you every day, Grace…and you know what’s crazy? Some  of the kids aren’t calling me tsmuke anymore. They’ve started calling me what you used to be called. Sa’nok…imagine that….”

Tsa’te began squirming in your arms, which told you it was time for you to head back now. “Bye, Grace. May Eywa be with you.”

When you returned back to your tent where the others were, Tsa’te was already wanting to join whatever chaos the Sully family were getting up to. Jake wasn’t there—if you had to guess he was possibly caught up with some Olo’eyktan duties—but Neytiri and the kids were there. Lo’ak, Neteyam, Kiri and Spider were outside playing—what game, you didn’t know this time. And after feeding her, you gently placed Tsa’te down and watched with a grin as she crawled toward Lo’ak who happened to be closest to the outside of the tent.

“Tsa’te!” Lo’ak ran over to pick her up, earning a giggle from the toddler. He rushed back over toward the others, holding Tsa’te up victoriously, “We got another player for the game!”

“Be gentle with her, Lo’ak!” You called.

“I will Mom!” Lo’ak responded, despite the mischievous glint in his eyes.

You frowned and turned to the eldest, “Neteyam—”

“I’ll make sure he’s gentle.” He called with a nod before turning to the others.

You chuckled and turned to Neytiri who was already watching the children with a certain look on her face. Already knowing the look, you sighed and grabbed one of the raw fish to cut, “Let it go, Tiri.”

“Why do you insist on bringing that demon boy around them?” She hissed quietly toward you, a frown on her face. “Especially, knowing who his father is—”

“He’s not his father.” You told her simply. The two of you had this conversation in the past before. Neytiri’s dislike for Spider wasn’t lost on you and it was one of the things you two had a disagreement on the most. It never really led to much of a fight, Neytiri just often complained and then begrudgingly let it go until the next time she was fed up enough about it to bring it up again. “Plus, Kiri and the boys love having him around. Just think about them—”

“I do think about them.” Neytiri frowned but turned her eyes toward the food she had been cutting. “But I also think about him whenever I see that boy…” Her face softened a bit when she looked at you, “how do you do it? Even after everything he’s done?”

You really didn’t have a good answer for that. Still to this day you still had nightmares and saw his face. But whenever you looked at Spider, you didn’t see Quaritch. You just saw a boy wanting to belong. You saw yourself in him and for that you couldn’t turn your back on him. You couldn’t blame the poor boy for the sins of his father. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right.

“Well for one thing, he looks more like his mother than his father.” You joked a little. Neytiri rolled her eyes but you continued, “He still haunts me…somedays are harder than most…but I learn to just live rather than stay stuck in the past…it’s easier said than done…but I do understand a lot of things can’t be forgiven or forgotten.” You placed a hand on Neytiri’s shoulder, “I understand, believe me I do….Just don’t take it out on him, okay? He’s innocent. All he’s ever done is lived. He didn’t ask to be born to a monster.”

Neytiri didn’t say anything for a moment. Her face was still hardened but her shoulders were less tense than before at your words. Still, she huffed before saying, “That boy is your responsibility. He’s your itan.”

You sighed. A part of you wished Neytiri could be a little bit more open minded but you understood her hesitance, her closed minded thoughts on the Sky People and Spider. You couldn’t push.

All you could do was be content with her tolerance.

“I want to hold her now, Lo’ak!” You heard Kiri complain.

“You already got to! You held her the longest!”

“Did not! Neteyam took her before my turn was finished!”

“Well, too bad! I have her now!”

“You’re such a penis face!”

“Hey!” You turned to them, eyes widened at Kiri’s language. “Language, girly! What did I tell you about that?”

Kiri pouted, “Sorry, Mama.”

Neytiri tsked and you sighed, “God, who even taught her that?” You probably did with how much cursing you’ve done before. But at least you didn’t say around the kids….at least you think you haven’t.

“Argh!” You turned your head to find Jake entering the tent seconds later, “Damned fuckface—”

“Jake!” You and Neytiri gawked at him.

Jake closed his mouth, glancing from the kids to the two of you before rolling his eyes, “Oh please, Doc cusses more and you’re condemning me?”

“Fuck off!” You hissed.

“What did you say, Mom?” Neteyam called.

“Nothing!”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari @tojigirl @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @naityelen @dumb-fawkin-bitch @raggedyoldwitch @nhemmingsf @biooiuygjjgfsrb @thatsenoughformelol @thotd-f1 @beaniebeensbaby201 @theoriginalwife000 @3leni @23victoria @lovesickollie @atxara @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ladylovegood-69 @lovekeeh @lilithmoon14512 @n7cje @fyfy-world @cleverzonkwombatsludge @goddesslilithmoriarty @itszzmoon @eternallyvenus @bajadotcom @ducks118 @alexandra-001 @sweetllamaparadise @padfootsvixen @avatarmasterlistblog

[unlicensed-queer]

Tommy finds out you're pregnant headcanons + dad!Tommy in general because he is my weakness

So if it's planned when you tell him he's gonna absolutely do that rom com thing where he picks you up and spins you around. If it wasn't planned he would need a second to adjust. He loves Grace's girls and he loves kids but having his own is a whole new beast, he'd be worried about how he'd be with them and if he'd end up like his own dad. But he gets over it pretty quick. He's still worried but he's also sooo excited.

He builds the nursery from the ground up, builds a changing table and a crib and helps you arrange it and also paints a little landscape mural on the walls.

Sooo obsessed with your belly when it starts to show. Sometimes he just lays on the couch with his head in your lap and lays his hand on it. He can't believe that youre growing his baby.

He will walk through hell and back for your pregnancy cravings. You want watermelon in January? Pomegranate in July? Some sort of cheese that's only made in the himalayas? He's already looking up express shipping.

The first time the baby kicks he's sobbing. Just bawling, like he knew you had his baby but now he can feel it and it's so much more real and he just loves you so much.

He's as nervous as you in the delivery room and will squeeze your hand as hard as you squeeze his. If he can't be in the delivery room he's the perfect cliche of pacing around the waiting room. He's sitting down he's standing up he's googling c section mortality rates he's so scared.

But everything's fine of course and when he gets to hold the baby he just cries so much.

That night you wake up and he's sitting on the couch or one of those hospital chairs holding the baby and just watching it. Hes not saying anything he's just watching and holding it's hand and marveling that he's got a child now.

Will absolutely carry the diaper bag and the car seat wherever you guys go for the first few months post partum

"babe you just had a baby, I can make your tea go back to bed!"

"Tommy it's been 2 weeks"

Also he's the number one to fan of postpartum tiddies

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Craving Ice Cream

@jayalaw

Summary: Set after Httyd 2. Hiccup has a craving and Astrid wants him to voice it.

Warnings: Pregnancy

Rating: General

Words: 546

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Valka

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Author's Notes: Written for a request because I got an ask on Tumblr a few days ago telling me that they loved my Pregcup fics the day after I posted two, so I made a post asking for requests and this is one of them. Really enjoyed writing this one!

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

“I…” Before he dares to finish his sentence, Hiccup closes his mouth and presses his lips together, wondering if he should finish.

It’s not quiet in the house, Tuffnut and Snotlout are in a heated discussion with Fishlegs about something while Ruffnut watches and instigates wherever she can. Gobber and Valka are in the kitchen. Eret stokes the fire and Astrid sharpens her axe. But when Hiccup decides to speak, they still hear him.

Curled up around him, Toothless lifts his head to look at his Rider and Astrid stops her sharpening to gaze at her husband, the fur of her hood still damp from the falling snow outside. She was chopping wood until minutes ago. Devastating Winter is steadily approaching and they need to be prepared.

“Finish that sentence, Babe,” she tells him, already using a more motherly tone even though the baby isn’t even here yet. The baby that grows in his womb.

Somehow even more dramatic in his pregnancy, Hiccup opens his mouth again to speak, hands up to animate, only to sigh, drop them on his quiet belly and lay his head back on the dragon he sits against near the fire. Toothless snorts at him, which gets him a look as Hiccup wipes at his face.

He’s seven months far, which means he’s getting quite round by now even for a tall and skinny lad such as himself and they can expect the baby to come in the middle of the most devastating time of the cold season. It’s why the other Riders are here. Because they’re about to get buried by snow inside their homes and they want to be here when the first of a new generation of Dragon Riders is born. And they want to help where necessary.

“Hiccup.”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“What’re you craving?” Astrid asks. If he says it’s something stupid, it’s almost always because he’s craving something. And his new appetite, that was something he needed to get used to.

Looking over his shoulder at her, he takes a moment to consider it. How badly is he craving? “... ice cream.”

“That weird invention from the twins?” Snotlout asks, now standing nearby after having torn himself away from his discussion with Fishlegs when he grew too annoyed.

“Uh, weird?”

“Try “genius!” At that comeback, the twins high five.

“Weird how exactly?” But Hiccup takes offense, crossing his arms and glaring up at him. He feels a hard kick inside of him, like the baby agrees. When Snotlout feels a lot of eyes on him, he notices that almost everyone seems to share Hiccup’s sentiment. Especially his soulmate and life partner.

“How would you like your ice cream?” He asks, deciding that is the only way to avoid invoking Astrid’s wrath. She’s been very protective of her husband ever since Gothi confirmed their suspicions. Which is also the reason why she just needed to hear him utter a single vowel before jumping on his case.

“Good boy,” Valka praises his change of mind before disappearing into the kitchen again, Gobber guffawing a laugh from within. And the twins crack their knuckles, deciding to make a batch for their craving friend.

Needless to stay, he got his craving satiated with a bowl of ice cream.

[jeanie-g]

you said to send you any two players with a pulse so I'm here to be annoying about my sharks babies willmack with song #71 ❤

BABY SHARKS!! we literally just yapped about them a few hours ago, but wow they are the cutest!!! I've read, uh, 0 willmack...but i DID do some research. so, hopefully it's good.

it's basically a full fic tbh. and same as before, yadda yadda my actual #72 is irrelevant, so here's 71+2.

[#73] Jackie and Wilson (Hozier)

Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime / Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine / Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside / Sit back and watch the world go by

It's weird being back in Boston. From the moment they'd touched down at Logan, Will could feel it in his bones—this weird unrest. And sure, he was born in Lexington, grew up right outside the city, but it was different actually living in it. Getting his first taste of a professional career in hockey in a city made for it.

And now he's back, eight months since he packed up his dorm and went west. Since he left his family and his teammates to go follow his outrageous dream while they stayed behind.

Mack doesn't feel the dissonance like Will does. He was excited to come back to his old stomping ground. As they filed off the plane, he kept giving the other guys tips on restaurants and bars that don't card—all with this haughty air about him, like he lived here for longer than the nine months he did.

Will envies his nonchalance, wishes he could feel just as normal about all this. Because Boston treated him well, even if it was technically Newton. He loved his team and he liked his classes and he had a blast getting drunk and losing his shoes at frat parties on campus. He even liked the chilly falls and biting winters—often misses them when he's feeling strung out on the palm trees and unrelenting heat of San Jose.

But he can't help the queasiness that creeps in as they get closer and closer to TD Garden, because for the first time in his life, he'll step onto that ice in teal and white instead of maroon and gold.

Here's the thing: hockey players need to separate their lives in two. Before getting signed to the NHL, and after. They just need to, or all the stress of comparison will eat them alive. Guys can break records and win trophies in Juniors or at college, but the second they step foot on that league ice, none of it really means anything.

Commentators and journalists and fans expect there to be a difference in their playing—growing pains—but not much. Not if they're actually good. But it's scary how much of a difference there is. For Will, at least, it was terrifying. Still is, on bad nights when he can't catch a pass to save his life and the Sharks continue their deep dive down the division rankings.

Because you can't just make it to the NHL; you have to sustain yourself in it. You have to fight and claw to stay afloat before you find yourself on the fourth line and then the AHL affiliate, and then behind the bench coaching pee-wees at 32.

Mack, of course, doesn't feel any of this—at least, not like Will does. He got three points in his debut. He was sidelined with a hip injury for a month and bounced back like it was nothing. And yes, he goes on to the media to tout how "different and difficult it is here," and Will goes on to say that even if they don't score any points, "experience is progress," but he calls bullshit—on Mack and himself.

Whatever. He's getting sidetracked. He does that a lot—gets stuck in his own head, this endless rat race going round and round and round until someone—usually Mack or Tyler—snaps him out of it.

Anyways. He's back in Boston and everything's changed and nothing's changed at all.

He's fine.

***

The game is awful. There's no other word for it, really, no word so simple yet piercing that it encapsulates all that went wrong out there.

It's just awful.

Sloppy passes, incomplete plays, half-assed defense. The Bruins are a formidable team, but they aren't unbeatable. Some of the guys seemed like they'd already given up before the first face-off even took place.

Will tries his best to get shit going, but there came a point (probably 14 minutes into the third, when the score is 5-zip), where he has to admit defeat.

He listens to Warsofsky ream them out with half a mind, knowing exactly what he's going to say before he says it. When he looks up at Mack across the locker room, he has his head under a towel. He assumes this means he's just as miserable as Will is, but when they walk out of TD and board the bus back to their hotel, he's back to his jaunty self.

"Do you wanna watch Yellowjackets when we get back? It's finally on Netflix."

Will gives him what he hopes looks like an indignant stare. "No, I don't."

"New Girl?"

"No. I just wanna go to bed, Mack. Don't you?"

He plops down into his seat and Mack follows suit.

"Not really. I kinda wanna go out."

That makes Will twist his body until his right knee is practically in Mack's lap.

"Are you not embarrassed? I mean, how many BU fans came, you think, just to watch you? And that's the fucking game we play."

Will drops his gaze to the floor. Mack's silent for a moment, and Will thinks he's finally struck a chord. But then:

"More than you can say about BC."

Will turns his head and blinks at him. "Seriously?"

Mack just shrugs, and Will scoffs. He takes out his AirPods and pops them in, done with whatever this conversation is.

They don't talk until they enter their room, but Will's not mad at Mack. He just doesn't understand how he's not upset.

"You're pissed," Mack says, clairvoyant as ever, as he drops his bag onto his bed.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Will drops his own bag by the foot of his bed, already kicking off his shoes.

"Isn't it nice, though? Being back home?"

Will chortles meanly. "You lived here for nine months, Mack. That's hardly home."

"I meant for you."

That feels like a blow to the stomach. He sits on his bed and stares at the TV. His reflection looks back at him in the semi-reflection, shrouded in darkness.

It's part of why he signed with BC in the first place, to be closer to home. It all worked out so well, he thought—he was so lucky. He got to be close to his friends and family for a year, maybe longer, until he signed with the Sharks and shipped off to California.

But now, he's starting to wonder if it would've been better if he went to Michigan instead. Maybe if he ripped off that bandaid earlier—got used to being away—coming back wouldn't be so hard.

"I think I know where to go," Mack says suddenly.

Will closes his eyes. "For what?"

"To make you feel better."

Will chortles again, but doesn't say anything else. When he cracks an eye open, Mack's looking at him expectantly. He never did know how to leave well enough alone. It's not like Will particularly enjoys wallowing in self-pity, though, so he acquiesces. Mack hasn't ever steered him wrong, if he's being honest.

"Fine. Where?"

Mack smiles. "It's a surprise."

The 'surprise' ends up being the Common, Mack asking the driver ahead of time to stop at the entrance on the corner of Beacon and Charles. Once Will realizes the destination is outdoors, he starts to protest—it's fucking January in Massachusetts—but Mack just says to trust him.

It's nearly midnight when they get there, the streetlights guiding their steps as they exit the Uber. Mack takes extra care to tip the driver $5, 'cause he's good like that.

Mack's carrying a bag, but he won't tell Will what's in it. Will's not in the mood to argue, so he just follows him wordlessly, ambivalent to wherever he's leading him.

The Common's pretty at night. Snow dusts the ground and bushes, and the waxing moon casts light through the barren tree branches. The noisemakers of the surrounding city haven't completely gone to bed yet, but the area around them is pretty sparse. Muddy footprints going in every direction remind Will how populated this place usually is. He takes a deep breath, watching his exhale puff out in front of him.

They finally come to a stop at the edge of Frog Pond. It's completely frozen over, probably has been for days now considering the impressions and swirls in the ice from skates.

Will doesn't know exactly what Mack had planned—he half-predicted they were gonna 'talk it out' on the Good Will Hunting bench—but it still comes as a surprise when Mack sets down his bag, crouches, and takes out two pairs of skates.

Will laughs hollowly. "Macky, no."

"Macky, yes," he replies, standing and handing a pair to Will.

"We can't skate here in the middle of the night!"

Mack shrugs. "Why not?" His nose is turning red from the cold and Will has to suppress the urge to reach out and cup it with his hands.

"I..." Will crosses his arms. "Because I don't want to."

Mack laughs, seemingly having no regard for the sleeping animals, or whatever. "Never have I known you to not skate when an opportunity presents itself."

Will rolls his eyes. "Why do you even want to? Sixty minutes of making ourselves look like Bambis on ice wasn't enough?"

Mack tilts his head and gives him a look. "I think this ice is a bit different than the rink at TD."

Will opens his mouth to argue that, actually, all ice is the same because it's just frozen water—but something in Mack's expression makes him think better of it. His eyebrows are pushed up, his mouth twisted in that hopeful smirk that either leads to triumph or mischief. Mack's trying to cheer him up, in his own weird way, and Will's kind of being a dick about it.

Will sighs. "15 minutes. Any longer and I think we'd be at serious risk of hypothermia."

Mack smiles that big, toothy grin that emblazoned itself into Will's consciousness the first time he saw it, and every time after. There's some addicting chemical laced in it; there's gotta be.

They find a bench to sit on while they put up their skates. Will didn't even think about how Mack obtained them until he sees the Bauer label.

"Mack, did you swipe these?"

Mack, again, shrugs. "They have our names on them."

Will smiles. "Can't argue with that."

The first step onto the pond is like any other, but as he sets his other skate down and pushes off—as he gets into a stride—he can feel the difference immensely. It's rough, and snowy—difficult to maneuver at first. He catches his pick on a bump at one point and nearly wipes out, causing Mack to stop and laugh.

He didn't realize it's been so long since he skated on ice like this—not manicured and smoothed, but natural—real. It brings him back to when he was just learning how to skate as a kid, uncoordinated but doe-eyed, eager to learn.

Mack lets him be for a few minutes, content to stroll on his own, but eventually he skates up and taps Will on the shoulder. "Race you to the bridge?"

"Oh, you're on, bud."

Mack giggles gleefully as he sets off, Will rushing to catch up before he can even complain that they didn't count down.

Mack's faster than him—always has been, even though Will won't admit it—but the uneven terrain makes him wobble. Will's able to catch up to him and nearly sidle by, grabbing his arm to try and throw him off balance.

"Hey! Cheater!" Mack cries, but it doesn't sound as accusatory when it's punctuated by laughter.

Will laughs, too, his eyes crinkling with it, which is what he blames when his blade catches a crack, causing him to lose his footing. Before he knows it, he's spun around and falling backwards, taking Mack with him.

He lands on his tailbone, the force of it pushing an "Oof" out of him, with Mack sprawled out on top of him.

"Oh, shit," Mack says, scrambling to sit up. His eyes are saucers. "Are you okay?"

Will is slow to sit up, hand moving to rub his lower back. "Yeah," he says, wincing. "Not broken or anything. Just gonna be wicked sore tomorrow."

Mack must be really distressed because he doesn't even comment on Will's use of 'wicked' like he usually would. He just roams his eyes up and down Will's figure like he has X-ray vision and can discern any other bodily injuries.

Will reaches out and places his hand on Mack's arm. "Mack, I'm fine, really."

That doesn't do anything, to calm him. So, he—well, he does it without really thinking. He takes Mack's hand. That snaps Mack out of it, his eyes flicking back to Will's.

"We're hockey players. We literally fall on our asses for a living. I think I can deal with a sore tailbone for a few days."

That gets a chuckle out of Mack. He doesn't remove his hand from Will's, so Will doesn't move an inch.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you out here to begin with. It was stupid."

Will shakes his head. "No, it wasn't stupid." He's not magically all better, but he finds himself feeling significantly lightened. "I was in my head. I needed a reminder—why we do this, I guess. It was good."

Mack smiles, no teeth this time, and Will thinks that maybe he likes this one better. It's more intimate—just for him.

"I wanted you to feel better," Mack says. "I know coming back was gonna be hard for you, and the game was...well, it was shit, so that didn't help things."

Will chuckles mirthlessly. Mack shrugs, continuing. "I guess I wanted to remind you that being back here isn't so bad."

"It's not bad. You're right. It's just..."

He looks off for an answer, and when he can't find one he comes back. Mack's eyes greet him, warm and understanding. And he gets it, Will knows. Underneath the accolades and the point streaks and the headlines, Mack knows exactly how Will is feeling. Perhaps, sometimes, he feels it more, that label of the 'No. 1 draft pick' weighing on him in a way Will can never know.

It's not about the game, not really, and Will only sort of admitted it to himself before now. It's about being back in the city he really made a name for himself in, before he lost that big-eyed, eager innocence he thinks is so foolish now. He wouldn't trade being in the NHL for the world; he's not that stupid. It just—it kind of sucks right now, and he thinks he's allowed that.

Mack smiles weakly, and he looks so young. Not like Will's that much older, but... it's crazy, how they're both just kids in the end. Kids destined for greatness.

"We should probably stand up now," Mack says. "My jeans are soggy as hell."

Will laughs and they let go of each other's hands to get up. When they do, though—Will spinning around to head back to their shoes—he nearly bumps into Mack's chest.

Mack laughs, and then Will laughs and makes to back up, but Mack gently grabs his arm. Will snaps his eyes up to his, and something in Mack's gaze pins him there. He's utterly incapable of moving, but he realizes he doesn't want to, not when Mack slowly leans in and connects their lips.

And, oh. Oh oh oh.

Mack's lips are cold, but his mouth is warm, Will parting his lips to get a better taste of it. Mack makes some sort of pleasured noise and allows it, taking hold of Will's cheeks and propping his chin up to kiss him deeper.

Will realizes, dizzyingly, that their noses are touching. He wonders if Mack's is still red.

Eventually, Mack pulls back and leans his forehead against Will's. "How's that for a homecoming, eh?"

Will laughs, his voice going high with it. Maybe the cold is getting to him; maybe it's the way Mack is still holding onto his cheeks, so gently.

"You fucking Canadian," Will huffs out, and Mack tips his head back to laugh.

That won't do, though. Will loops an arm around Mack's neck and pulls him back in, swallowing the sound and kissing that smile right off his handsome face.

He feels that unrest from earlier—when they touched down on the tarmac—finally fade away, replaced by something else entirely.

And maybe Boston isn't so bad, or the NHL for that matter. They can't be, not when they gave him Mack, like this, perfect in his arms.

Maybe everything worked out just right.

[unleashed-fest]

UNLEASHED FEST: WEEK TWO

And that's it, week two is over! Feast your eyes on these gems, check out what you might have missed this week and tomorrow we'll bring you the full anonymous masterlist before reveals in a few days!

🐾

🐾 FIC

Creature Comforts (Draco/Harry, M, 86k)

When Draco is turned into a werewolf, he does not expect to be given a postbellum bedroom in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, nor does he expect to find a whole new set of friends.

When Harry is turned into a werewolf, he does not expect to make a whole new set of friends. He could have anticipated, however, falling even harder in love with the stubborn, acerbic, workaholic prat who’s been hovering at the fringes of his life for the past seven years.

This is exactly what happens.

Raising Kids (The Other Kind) (Pansy/Neville, E. 4.8k)

"Pansy exhaled deeply. “Neville,” she said slowly, “When I suggested we get a pet, I meant a cat or a dog. I never mentioned a fucking goat.”"

When Pansy suggested they get a pet to practice their parenting skills before trying for a baby, she hadn't expected Neville to walk in the door with the world's worst behaved goat.

The Cat that got the Créme (de la Potter) (Draco/Harry, E, 22.6k)

Draco's doing fine after the war. No, really! He's a repentant, industrious employee by day and a gorgeous, vigilante cat by night. So what if he's been disowned by his parents (father)? Life's great!

And, when he gets into a spot of trouble? Pffft … he's going to save himself! Easy peasy. The Chosen One is not actually required. He just happens to be there. It's not like Draco went looking for him … or anything.

Ripped Apart (Draco/Harry, E, 4.3k)

Following his father’s failings in the war, nobody in the Wizarding World knew of Draco’s affliction - his father’s punishment being his son handed over to Greyback to do with as he pleased. Somehow Draco had managed to claw his way back - pun intended - into some form of acceptance in society again, although he knew there were those out there who thought he should be in Azkaban - or dead. He’d also fallen in love, with none other that Harry fucking Potter. If they know we’re dating, it will only be worse for him, Draco thought as he walked through Knockturn Alley on the way to the apothecary. Draco couldn’t know at that moment how wrong this thought was.

Scales and Sorcery (Draco/Harry, E, 13.9k)

As toddlers, Harry Potter and Draco’s lives change when they befriend each other on James Potter’s Romanian dragon reserve, where Draco is hatched as a rare shape-shifting Hungarian Horntail. The two quickly become inseparable, and as they grow up together, their bond deepens into something truly magical and unbreakable.

Follow them on this unique coming-of-age journey of self-discovery and first love, where Harry finds his soulmate in the most unexpected of creatures.

Kaleidoscope (Harry/Ron/Hermione, E, 39k)

Dear Mooney and Padfoot,

It’s been months, and I’m sorry.

Harry discovers old letters written by his father, and uncles, while organizing Hogwarts' archives. Desperate for any type of connection to the dwindling memories of his parents, he embarks on a journey to become an Animagus with Ron and Hermione - Leaving his job, his emotions, and his fiancée by the wayside. Maybe if he digs around in the past for an answer, the universe would be kind enough to help him out… Unless said universe was sick and tired of Harry Potter looking backwards instead of forwards.

Wherever He Leads Me (Draco/Harry, E, 11.2k)

Draco never knows when a certain someone’s stag Patronus will block his path as he’s trying to sneak out of a memorial or leap on his pelvis during yoga class.

He doesn’t even know if Harry Potter is sending frantic messages via stag on purpose.

But he does know that whenever the stag appears, he’ll follow it.

No matter where it leads.

🐾 PODFIC

Trevor the Escape Artist by DrPansyParkinson (Pansy/Neville, G, 30-35min) Trevor the Master of Escape feels his reputation being ruined because a certain someone keeps successfully locating him and bringing him back to his owner. Trevor is often found in bathrooms because he likes humidity.

[thecaroliner]

After almost six months I think I’m finally ready to talk about what happened to my dog to get it off my chest and maybe this will help others prevent this happening to their dogs.

About 2-3 ago we began noticing a few changes in Chibi that we just associated with age. He was 10-11 at that point so obviously he was slowing down a little bit but we also noticed how itchy he had become. It seemed like all day every day he was gnawing and scratching at himself, sometimes to the point of drawing blood. His vet basically shrugged and said “idk try this prescription shampoo” we tried it. There was a small improvement but really didn’t do enough for him. As time went on he became more and more miserable so he was finally prescribed a pill and a monthly shot to help with the itching. Again, it did ease his symptoms somewhat but not like it should have. His vet seemingly just didn’t care enough to try anything.

So last year he began losing hair, like a LOT of hair. Especially on his tale. His underside was slimy too, and he smelled awful despite having a bath pretty much every other day. It was getting to be a little gross to even pick him up. He was freezing all the time because of how little hair he had.

So finally, in around January, I took him to the vet one day because his eyes were leaking really badly. The vet seeing him that day was like a traveling vet and it was her first time at that clinic. She was much more concerned about his itching and lack of hair rather than his eyes, and when I told her his history she said “well it sounds like the regular vet has just been trying to put a band aid on his symptoms and not get to the root of the issue.” I am eternally grateful for this woman because she was determined to find the cause of it and it lead to a diagnosis of hypothyroidism. All his symptoms, his lethargy and itchiness and hair loss, his overproduction of sebum was all related to that. Pretty much within a few days of him receiving thyroid medication, he was like a new dog.

He suddenly had energy again. He would play and run around. His hair began growing back and he stopped itching and smelling bad. My baby, who we were afraid was just slowly dying from age, was like a puppy again. I am so so so grateful that he got to spend the last few months of his life full of energy again.

And then came April. One night, after a completely normal day with him, and he threw up around 11 pm. No big deal, he throws up from time to time. But then he did it again, and again, and again rapid fire. He was shaking and walking around like he was scared. Three years prior, he had shown these same symptoms and the emergency vet concluded he had eaten something toxic (to this day we have no idea what it could’ve been) and in kidney failure but was able to get him on some fluids and meds and he was good as new.

Mom and I were afraid this was happening again, so at midnight we loaded him into the car and took him to the ER vet. $800 and some fluids later and they said “well, he could possibly have pancreatitis but just monitor him and follow up with his regular vet.”

We take him to the vet a few days later. “Oh, I see he was diagnosed with pancreatitis.” We were shocked because the ER vet said it was maybe a possibility and not a definite. But okay, he has pancreatitis. So now he has to be on an extremely bland died of boiled chicken and rice and some prescription dog food.

He did fine for the next week or so, but then one day just stopped eating. He didn’t even want his favorite snacks like peanut butter. He just sat around the house, but he was sitting up as though laying down would be too difficult for him. He kept begging to go outside and try to potty but he couldn’t. Even days later when nothing was in his stomach at all he was trying to go.

I take him to the vet one morning and tell them the symptoms. “Well, just get him to eat a bland diet and it’ll ease his symptoms” he. Is not. Eating. I went home frustrated. That afternoon he seemed to be in tremendous pain so I took him back, and this time they weighed him. He’d lost 4 pounds in just a matter of days. Not one person at that vet office seemed even mildly concerned about this.

This bitch of a vet tech pulls me into a room and goes “okay, so tell me exactly what is going on because you and your mom keep giving us conflicting answers about if he’s eating or not, so what’s the deal” HE. ISN’T. EATING. My mom and I were both telling them that. I don’t know what the confusion is. He got more fluids and we left once more with no answers.

And then 4 days later he was gone. On his last night he began sounding really congested when he breathed and the next morning the vet said his pancreas was just failing I guess and the mucus he was producing was from his lungs and there was nothing they could do. And that was the end.

I found out shortly after that undiagnosed hypothyroidism can lead to pancreatic issues and failure in dogs.

My baby suffered for 2 years because his vet didn’t bother trying to really fix his problem. And then he finally, FINALLY gets to feeling normal again only to go from a little sick to dead in just 2 weeks.

It really just felt like the vets office was in the mindset of “oh he’s old so we aren’t gonna bother doing much for him”. Life expectancies for his breed can go up to 15-17 years so he probably still had quite a life left ahead of him.

I miss him so much.

[hogarthwrites]

Happily Never After

pairing: samuel drake/femme!reader (m/f)

genre: hurt, angst

words: 1091

summary:

Sam deals with heartbreak for the first time.

Samuel Drake approached love apathetically. To him, it was something that came and went, like a passionate night with a beautiful stranger. He didn’t believe in “happily ever after” unless it involved an unfathomable amount of treasure, so he had let every romantic opportunity pass him by.

That was, until he met her. She was the hurricane that crashed through the door of his heart, blowing him away with emotions he never knew he could feel before. He couldn’t get her out of his head the first few months they started dating, and he almost felt like a fool, acting like a silly schoolboy in love. But there it was: love.

Sam knew it the moment he woke up one Sunday morning and she turned to smile at him, adoring the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

“Good morning,” was all she said and that was it; he had bought her a ring that very afternoon and proposed.

Of course, it wasn’t always all good. There were days they’d argue, especially when Sam had to go away for months again. But the moment he stepped back into their apartment, their clothes strewn on the floor, all was forgiven.

Or, at least that’s what Sam had thought until the moment he stood at the altar, staring at the heavy wooden doors. He had spent weeks wondering how she’d look entering those very doors, hoping she’d give him that smile he fell so deeply in love with, but as the clock ticked, he started to get nervous.

Nathan gave Sam a worried look, but he shook his head. She wouldn’t leave him like that, right?

He glanced at his watch; it’s been an hour and a half since the wedding started, and guests were starting to whisper.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Victor quietly said.

Sam’s hands fell to his sides, suddenly he couldn’t feel his legs and there was a lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe she would stand him up.

“Sam…” He could feel Nathan grab his shoulders, but he shoved him away.

He made his way out of the chapel, and, almost as if out of habit, started to climb the steeple. His heart hurt, but he climbed, feeling the chilly Boston air as he made his way up. He couldn’t believe he was back in this city he’d hated growing up, thinking this new beginning with the love of his life would’ve changed how he felt about it. Instead, he was sitting on the roof of an old church, his heart shattered into pieces again.

At that moment, he felt like a kid again, when Frank left him and Nathan at the orphanage. At just eleven years old, Sam couldn’t understand why his own father didn’t want them anymore. He had cried and cried on the roof of one of the orphanage dorms, feeling sour about the sermon Father Duffy had given earlier that day. If God was real, why would he let us feel this way, he had thought. 

Decades later, Sam had the same thought, wondering what he had done to make her go, and if he even still deserved love. 

“No one else in the world, baby,” she had told him just a few months ago as they lounged on the sofa, bathed in sunlight. She gave him a kiss as she held up her hand with the stunning ring he had given her. “Just you and me.”

The memory hurt him more. 

“Hey, Sam, I’m so sorry,” Sam felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

Nathan stood next to him, worry cast over his face. 

“It’s fine,” Sam waved a dismissive hand at him. “I’m fine. I’ve been through prison, what’s a little heartbreak, huh?”

Nathan sighed as he sat next to him. “You’re not fine. You know it’s okay to let it out, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam looked out into the horizon. “Fuck,” his voice broke as the tears started falling again. “Fuck, I don’t want to be dramatic, but this shit hurts more than a goddamn bullet.”

“Love will do that to you.”

“Fuck that,” Sam almost laughed. “What did I do?”

Nathan shrugged. “Did she give any indication of leaving?”

“No,” Sam scoffed. “Or maybe I didn’t see it because I’m a goddamn asshole.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, it could be anything.”

Sam stared down at his hand. If things had gone right, he would’ve been wearing a ring by now. 

Nathan had never seen his older brother this vulnerable, he felt bad he didn’t know what to say. And so, the Drake brothers sat side by side as Sam quietly cried.

“I might as well go home,” Sam sighed. 

“Are you sure? You can stay with me and Elena for a while.”

“Nah, I need some time alone.”

Sam gave Nathan a sad smile. “Thanks, though, I ‘ppreciate it.”

The apartment was freezing when Sam came in. She had packed up all her things, but left a note on her side of the bed. Written neatly on a folded piece of paper was his name in black ink that had run because of her tears. 

Sam sat on the cold wooden floor as he unfolded the letter.

Dear Sam,

I want you to know this isn’t something I just decided to do. You’ve always been good to me, and I’ve never loved a man more than I’ve loved you, but the past few months have been tough with you always away. I spent so many nights so afraid you wouldn’t come home, wondering what you were doing, wanting to reach out, but I couldn’t.

Sam, I can’t live like this. I can’t live being afraid that the man I love will just be taken away from me at any given time, but I can’t make you walk away from treasure hunting. I know better than to compete with a man’s first love. 

I never wanted to hurt you like this, but I just can’t marry you with this fear in my heart. I hope you understand. 

I’m sorry, Sam.

Sam tossed the letter to the floor. Solitary confinement in a Panamanian prison seemed like a better option than the torture he felt at that moment. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He whispered as he buried his head between his knees. “Fuck.”

He crawled into the bed he had shared with her, the smell of her perfume faintly lingering, making him feel like he was being stabbed in the heart a hundred times. He knew “happily ever after” wasn’t real.

[emeritus-fuckers]

I don't even have a request just everything for them fluff/smut/angst with a happy ending its just youre the only one writing for Repugnant and I love you for this ❤️

Some touching Repugnant headcanons

Mary Goore

Mary was a lonely kid.

Well, maybe not lonely, just alone. They grew up in an orphanage after being found in the trash as a baby. Ever the gender non-conforming, they never reacted to "he". It just never felt right so they never did that, merely looking at the person who called them that and then shrugging and walking off. They would wear dresses and skirts whenever they felt like it, starting at age five.

It never really mattered to them if they were bullied or mocked. As they were growing up, people always just... expected. So that's what they would always give. But, as long as they were out of the orphanage as much as possible, the caretakers were happier, since they were an extremely troubled child.

Since the age of twelve, Mary was a mall goth. A scrawny mall goth with long hair and heavy make-up that would sit in front of a Hot Topic and hiss at people. So naturally, they would get beaten up very often purely because of how they were. Because of how they looked.

Until one day, when they were fourteen, three certain teenagers noticed it and helped. G. pulled them aside to make sure they were okay while E. made the bullies back off (with DD yelling out slurs at them by his side). While they didn't become friends immediately, G. was stubborn enough to keep checking up on them almost daily.

And so, Mary Goore got eventually adopted to the friend group that would eventually become Repugnant.

DD Sars

DD loves having long hair.

When he was younger, he was always conflicted about it. He was always scrawny, tiny even, so when he was younger, he'd get bullied heavily, especially when his school bullies found out he was trans.

He felt like in order to be seen as a boy, he'd have to cut it short. But he hated that. He liked having long hair. But long hair was girly, so he'd keep messily cutting it short, which resulted in more bullying anyway, as well as his mother being even more abusive than she already was, yelling about her daughter changing.

And then he met G. in middle school. He met E. and Mary through G., and none of them made fun of him. Hell, G. even helped him even out his hair.

And as his hair started getting longer again, his new friends didn't bully him. His old bullies left him alone, since E. would manage to intimidate them with just his presence.

His hair was fine. He was allowed to have long hair and still be considered just as much of a dude by his friends. He could have long hair without being scared of other people's judgement.

And while it is a rare sight to see DD Sars genuinely smile instead of smirking or grinning like a little shit, he does sigh and smile softly, relaxing whenever his bandmates play with his hair.

G. Grotesque

G. is the heart and soul of the band.

He is the person who got everyone to meet in the first place. Originally, the group was just a bunch G.'s friends. He was the reason thy would hang out together. He was the person everyone liked first.

E. was originally G.'s friend. DD was originally G.'s friend. They only became friends themselves after hanging out with G. together for a few months.

Mary was also originally slowly befriended by G. and it took weeks before they started to hang out with the rest of the group. But they did and the four teens became best friends for over a decade now.

While obviously G. is no longer "necessary" for others to hang out, he is, without a doubt, incredibly important for the rest of the band. So much so that they would do anything for him.

G. is a very sensitive person. While when he was little, he was told he'd had to grow out of that, his friends allowed him to stay the man he was, supporting him and willing to protect him no matter what. Because his friends love him. And of course, he loves his friends just as much.

E. Forcas

E. never really had a friend growing up. He was a quiet kid raised by a single mom trying her best. And since he was little, he'd keep to himself, never really too good with words. He'd speak up when asked and that was it.

He would always be avoided by other kids. He was always big and rather quiet, just looking at people if he wasn't currently busy with his favorite Rubik's cube his mom got him for his sixth birthday. Long story short, he never really had friends. He didn't know how to make friends and no one really tried to become his friend.

Until one day in fourth grade he saw one of the kids from the parallel class getting bullied for crying about something. And E.'s mom raised him to never tolerate bullying, so he stood up for the kid, shoving the bullies away without really thinking much about it.

The next day, the same kid walked over to him during lunch break, offering him a muffin he baked with his parents. E. was confused, but grew to tolerate and like his new companion, who became his best friend over the years.

And that kid was, of course, G. Grotesque.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @thermodynamic-comedian @vampyrolesbos