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mere-mortifer · 2 months ago

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♥ Sanji/Reader Rec List ♥

40+ fics & authors suggestions! Click here to view this on a separate web page for easier navigation ♥

Sometimes I’m normal about fictional characters, other times I become psycho-sexually obsessed with them and relentlessly look for fanworks where they get smooched and hugged into oblivion. And by characters I mean Sanji.

So here’s a non-comprehensive list of Sanji/Reader fics that I love, most of them rated Explicit. This got sooo long because I kept finding other works to add while scrolling through my bookmarks and reblogs, it goes to show how good the fandom is! (Assume, unless otherwise stated, that Sanji is more on the sexually submissive side, since I like what I like and seek out that dynamic specifically.)

Authors I love

I’m starting this list with a few mentions of my favorite authors, although I’m sure I’m stating the obvious with most of these and you all know them already. Who cares! Go re-read their stuff! Leave a comment! Give them your money!

1. One Piece Works by @onlymurphy

Not to fall into hyperbole, but I owe OnlyMurphy my life. If you’re here reading this list then surely you love this author already, so this a good excuse to re-read the entire Grow Old With Me series. Sanji’s characterization is top-notch, and if you enjoy explorations of his self worth issues and how they would affect an otherwise loving romantic relationship then look no further. Also the author is a very talented smut writer (very talented writer in general, make no mistake), and that's the greatest accolade I can give them. Imagine me putting a gold metal around their neck but I’m the one who's moved to tears about it.

Honorable mentions for the filthiest-yet-very-romantic works in their catalog:

🌶 Do That Again

🌶 Wildest Dreams

🌶 If I’m Lucky

2. One Piece Works by @citrinae

I’m linking the masterlist for this author ‘cause I really like all their Sanji-centric fics, and I’d love, love, love to see more. Sanji is so princely and devoted, just an absolute dream of a man, and he’s putting a lot of effort into making the reader feel loved. He gets stellar results in my opinion.

3. One Piece Works by @thus-spoke-lo (GoldExperience86 on Ao3)

There are three fics in particular by this author that I couldn’t pick a favorite from if you held me at gunpoint:

🌶 Let Me Help

🌶 Worth the Wait

🌶 Dear Diary

Have you ever read a sex scene so good you bypass getting horny and go straight into mourning, knowing you won’t be able to read it for the first time again? That has not stopped me from reading all these roughly a million times. Click on those links. Look at me in the eyes, listen very carefully: click on those links. I say this because I love you and want you to be happy.

You will find other fics by them in the rec list because 1) I couldn’t resist and 2) I’m pretty sure they have more things posted on Tumblr than Ao3, at least as separate one-shots.

4. 🌶One Piece Fics by @untolduttering

Author, I know deep in my soul that you love Sanji as much as I do. Fortunately I’m okay with sharing. If anything I'm glad I'm not alone in the trenches.

Check out all her fics and snippets, her writing is incredible and I’ve loved every single thing about Sanji she’s ever posted. Each time I open Tumblr and I see a new post by her, my day gets a little brighter. She writes one of my favorite versions of Sanji ever, insatiable and devoted and so, so hot. He couldn’t be more my type if he tried.

I want to single out her vampire!Sanji one-shot because I haven’t seen this trope used by anyone else and I liked it a lot! It fits so well, what with the theme of hunger and Sanji’s inability to ask for what he needs:

Hunger

The meta post that inspired the fic

5. One Piece Works by @fanaticsnail

Fanaticsnail, you’re the only one who has ever made me willingly click on a smut fic that involved Doflamingo just because Sanji was there, too, and I love your Sanji so damn much (p.s.: everyone go read it, 🌶 Seat Number Four).

One of their fics also appears in the Sex Pollen section, and since that one is particularly filthy let me add here two fluffy, romantic fics where Sanji is all cute and flustered by the reader:

Kiss The Cook

Your Flirty Chef

Yearning & Pining

The title of the section is pretty self-explanatory: fics where and the reader are not together, but God knows they want to.

6. 🌶 Wanting by @froggiewrites

This fic…holy shit. I’m genuinely writing this with tears in my eyes. The yearning & pining & longing mixed with the sexual tension so thick you can cut it with a knife makes for a truly incredible read. Only for real Sanji lovers, if you’re not nodding along at each desperate thought the reader insert has about this man then I’m sorry but you’re only a casual Sanji liker.

7. 🌶 My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand by ladyhabanera

[screaming crying throwing up] no yeah I’m very normal about this fic, I like it a totally normal amount. In the Ao3 comments I say that “Sanji is so so dreamy—a heady mix of submissive and deeply romantic”, and then if you scroll a little you find my other comment which is just me yelling in all caps at my second reread. I not only stand by both, but I’m doubling down.

8. Puzzled by @mynewblackdress

What a lovely series, and what a lovely trope…misunderstandings due to bad communication are as irritating and useless in real life as they are incredibly fun to read about. The reader is convinced that Sanji’s earnest compliments are his fucked up way of making fun of her, and it takes a while before they figure out that he means every word. Give it a read if you want a break from the sea of smut that I’ve added to this list, and you're the mood for opla!Sanji in particular.

9. Sweet Confession by @softonshanks

I have one specific weakness that I’m glad to often see in fics: Sanji getting a hug while he’s busy cooking, and he’s all cute and flustered about it because he didn’t expect the affection. And this fic has that + Sanji’s a pining mess for the reader, who he’s FWBs with despite the fact that he’s totally in love with her + she’s taller than him and he loves it. I’ve hit the jackpot. I’d love to see more Sanji fics from this author, so much so that I’m gonna ask her pretty please in Italian: Sara, ti prego, facci sognare.

10. 🌶 Your Name by @strawhatsoraya

Now, the one pining in this fic is me. Sanji and the reader are actually complete strangers, but if what appeals to you in mutual pining fics is the gut-wrenching depth of the feelings described, then I think you should check out this little one-shot. My notes on Ao3 are “Tfw when a pwp hits your id so well it bypasses making you horny and goes straight to suicidal”—do with that what you will. Also, check out the rest of this author’s fics and make a whole evening out of it.

Ft. Zoro

Get that stinky Mosshead out of my sight…no, wait, let him stay. I guess we can take turns on Sanji or something.

11. 🌶 Picture You by @froggiewrites

I don’t usually read Sanji fics where Zoro is heavily involved, but I’m glad that that didn’t stop me from clicking on this one (also, to be fair, they take turns on the reader. Well, the reader takes turns on them.) My note on the Ao3 bookmark is “God-tier sad horny Sanji characterisation”...couldn't have said it better, me from the past.

12. 🌶 Shaken Up Hearts by @lyriumcoloredskies

Okay so I lied, maybe I do like it when Zoro is heavily involved, as long as it’s a collab to team up on Sanji. Sanji gets lovingly demolished in this one, but before he gets there he’s sad like a kicked puppy about not being allowed to kiss both you and Zoro. Who am I to say no to a heavy dose of Zosan in my het Sanji smut?

13. 🌶 Nuvole e Lenzuola by redtendou

This one’s niche because it’s written in Italian. I was stunned by the author’s ability to make a graphic sex scene actually work despite Italian’s atrocious sex-related lexicon–trust me, it’s a struggle. If you’re into Zoro and the reader ganging up on Sanji and you understand Italian, definitely give it a read.

Spa day for the soul

Fics where you take care of Sanji, or Sanji takes care of you, or where there are actual spa activities thrown into the mix. God knows this man needs some TLC once in a while.

14. 🌶 My Pampered Prince by @sheerxfiction

It’s Sanji’s turn to spend some time flat on his back on the kitchen table–it’s what he deserves. If you’re craving a brilliant smutty fic where Sanji gets pampered then you've foudn it, the reader take really good care of him in this one–and I have to give bonus points for the heavy dose of Sanji’s self-worth issues and the readersinsert fighting back against his refusal to get taken care of. Get loved, idiot.

15. 🌶 Shower Time by @chibieggplant

Cute, hot, sexy–I’m talking both about the writing and Sanji in this fic. He takes a shower with the reader and spends the entire time in disbelief that he gets to tenderly wash her body, feeling quite embarrassed by how into it he is, despite the fact that this an established relationship fic. And that’s how I like my boys!

16. 🌶 Vinsmoke Sanji: Not all Men are Rats by livingonadaydream

I love, love, love fics where Sanji gets pampered…but it doesn’t hurt to read the complete opposite once in a while. A very sweet Sanji makes sure that the reader gets a very happy ending.

First Time

We'll never know the canonical sexual history for any One Piece characters because Oda is, unfortunately, a coward. However I'm not surprised that Sanji is considered by many the most virgin to have ever virgined in the history of virginity—so here's a list of fics where you pop his cherry. Be delicate, please...he's very sensitive.

17. 🌶 Say When by @venomatically

This one has to be the first I tell you about. If you go check the comments on Ao3 you’ll find me absolutely losing my mind after my first read, and there’s no quick comment I can add here to fully explain how much I love this author, her writing, and–Good Lord in Heaven–the way she writes Sanji. He’s a virginal pervert. He’s got that dog in him and it happens to be a cute little puppy. He’s so sweet and adoring he can’t bear to tell you how often he thinks about fucking you. I need someone to invent him in real life, it’s not even funny anymore. (Also, if you like to see Sanji actually get a little depraved, check out her other fic, too: 🌶 Letting Off Steam)

18. 🌶 Lust by @tetzoro

Ooh, this one’s hot. It starts so poetic and romantic, but as Sanji loses himself in the feeling the descriptions get more carnal. I love his POV here. Also it involves one of my favourite things ever: the readers starts on top but when it gets too good Sanji can't resist and he flips her over to do all the work himself. Who else cheered?

Sex Pollen

While writing this rec list I realized I have at least four sex pollen fics where Sanji eats something he shouldn’t and then…I wanna say “regrets it”, but the consequences are that he has hot sweaty sex with someone he’s really into. If he were to notice the trend I think he might start putting the wrong thing in his mouth on purpose.

19. 🌶 It’s a what flower?! by @sanjifucker42069

From the blog name alone I knew I’d found a kindred spirit. They have written for both the animanga and OPLA, and to be honest it’s hard for me to pick a favorite work. That’s a lie, this one’s my favorite. The author has a great sense of humor, and this fic in particular is both very funny and incredibly hot. I love how desperate and pathetic Sanji gets, and how hard the reader insert is trying to keep things PG before it becomes obvious they just have to fuck! Good problems to have if you ask me.

20. 🌶 a fever you can't sweat out by @cryocandy

I remember reading this one day right before work. My shift was about to start, and I was sitting by myself in the car reading the smoking hot sex scene for no good reason at all, ensuring that I wouldn't be able to focus on anything productive for the rest of the day. Sanji in this fic is so dreamy and cute and pathetic, all qualities enhanced greatly by the amazing writing. If you don’t think you like fuck-or-die fics, do yourself a favour and read this one anyway.

21. 🌶 Needy Boy by @maddddstuff

My note on Ao3 for this one was “Single-handedly made me into spanking btw, if you even care”, and I stand by it. He’s the one that gets spanked by the way, in case someone was in doubt.

22. 🌶 Someone Help Me by @fanaticsnail

Sanji’s a mess in this one. A total and complete mess, and I loved every word of it–also, since in the first part Sanji is struggling against the effects of the sex pollen all on his lonesome, this fic might also appeal to my fellow Sanji whump fans.

Dom!Sanji & Co.

Just because I have a preference for Sanji being a sub it doesn’t mean I will scoff at fics where he’s more dominant in bed. Here are the ones I stumbled upon that I’ve really liked! (Also I’m using the term “dominant” very loosely here, in some of these fics he’s simply more assertive in bed.)

23. Too Much (Take Me Home) by @secretwritingspot

This is THEE dom!Sanji series for me. There’s no sex in it, it’s more of an exploration of the sub/Dom dynamic and why someone would crave submitting to another person. Sanji finds himself in the dominant role with little warning, but he’s damn great at it in his usual adoring and tender way. I’m linking the first fic of the series, but the author has written more for this scenario!

24. 🌶 Leg Day by 1LucaCola1

The title says it all; fantastic premise for a smoking hot pwp fic. If I had the opportunity to train and make good use of Sanji’s expertise, I’d also push myself too far until my legs were shaking, and then let him do other things to me to make the shaking even worse.

25. 🌶 very professional nights by @missfrustration

Ugh, I love this one! Sanji is your superior at the Baratie, and he’s so very stern with you until he isn’t at all. Love the bait and switch of a Sanji whose professionalism makes him act a little cold when clients’ satisfaction is on the line but simply melts when he’s alone with the reader. And everything he ends up doing to the reader in this fic, I’d hardly call a punishment.

26. 🌶 Doodled Hearts by Twisted_Inkwell

Soft dom Sanji fucks you hard but he’s sweet talking to you in French the whole time. I don’t know what else to add to convince you to read this one, that should be plenty.

In the kitchen

To fuck the cook, you’ll have to look for him in his natural habitat. Then you can proceed to ruin the kitchen table for everyone else.

27. 🌶 Midnight Snack by BombasticBastard

This fic is a part of a Sanji/Reader/Zoro series, but I’m linking Part 2 where it’s just you and our lovely boy. As the title says, the reader is craving a midnight snack and goddamn, she gets the best one the Sunny’s pantry has to offer. This could also go in the Dom!Sanji category because he quite literally talks you through it, as the kids say nowadays, but he also showers the reader in compliments & he confesses his love, so overall he’s too much of a big ol’ softie to call him dominant in any way.

28. 🌶 All It Takes by mooseskulls

Reader catches Sanji being the pervert that he is, stolen underwear and badly-hidden moans included. This one has both a gender neutral version and a transmasc!reader one, I thought that was lovely–this way lots of different people can enjoy the “getting bent over the kitchen counter” scenario.

29. 🌶 Compliments to the Chef by @tigreblue

The Author says this is their first fic–if that’s the case, they’ve got a bright future ahead of them. We all know Sanji doesn’t easily accept love and gratitude, but some good ol’ finger-sucking ought to convince him. Things degenerate beautifully from there.

Dark(er)

By darker I mean that I’m adding here fics where Sanji is something other than an absolute sweetheart. You’ll understand how actually dark any of these fics are from my comments and the authors’ tags, but they all have the general vibe of “Sanji is a sleazy pervert” in varying degrees of illegality.

30. 🌶 appetite by @groubee

Ooh…this one’s fucked up. Sanji is an unreliable narrator that makes non-con somnophilia sound kinda cute, actually (it really isn’t.) In his defense he’s written as some sort of incubus-slash-sex-demon. The author doesn’t go into detail but they don’t need to, it’s all about the sickly sweet mood (emphasis on sickly) of a tender lover who’s also a horrible, horrible person.

31. 🌶 Letting Off Steam by @venomatically

He’s a freak in this one, but he’s soooo nice about it and he’s soooo thankful that you’re letting him be a complete pervert who can get away with waking you up by stroking his cock over your face.

32. 🌶 Smile for the Camera by @thus-spoke-lo

This one broke my heart and turned me on at the same time, I give it a full five stars. It’s a short and sweet one-shot where Sanji breaks down all your walls and then does the same to your trust in men…enjoy!

33. 🌶 Compliments to the Chef by @thus-spoke-lo

I realize only now that this fic and Smile for the Camera are by the same author. That’s not gonna stop me from reccing this little series, too–in the notes on Tumblr you can see that this was written for a “sleazeball collab”, which should tell you something about Sanji’s characterization. While reading this I felt like that lady in the comic about sexual harassment on the workplace…like yeah maybe I would be okay with it if the guy was hot enough. And by workplace I mean a shitty restaurant, and by guy I mean Sanji in the role of the line cook who smokes too much and is very transparent about wanting to bang you on the counter where lunch service is prepared.

34. 🌶 Use me by moosetracksandscenechanges

This fic! My God! I’m adding it here not because there are hard kinks or morally dubious dynamics between the characters, but I still think it fits. It has its sad moments due to a generally darker atmosphere and a more aloof version of Sanji (not that aloof, still recognisably himself)...but also he willingly gets tied to a bed. Sub Sanji lovers stay winning. My hopeless romantic heart hopes that Sanji and the reader will actually get together, but there’s a lot to love about the fwb dynamic they’ve got going on right now. A bittersweet read in the best way.

35. Conjugate the Ways by @secretwritingspot

Oh, Sanji has a foul mouth in this one, but he’s speaking French so he’s forgiven…also the reader has no idea what the hell he’s saying to her. It’s creepy in a cute way! The fic doesn’t include actual smut, it’s just Sanji fantasizing out loud about the things he wants to do with you, but if you’re in the mood for some good ol’ sexual tension, give it a read.

36. 🌶 Ma chérie by marriedtosanji

He lied to you! About being French, of all things! I would never forgive him. He’s really good in bed though, so he makes up for it. The smut here is so delightful it does a 180% and goes back to breaking my heart over the fact that I’ll never meet a cute stranger in a bar who wants to seduce and is also Mr. Sanji Onepiece himself.

Voyeurism

I swear this isn’t even in my top 10 kinks, I guess that Sanji’s character simply inspires a lot of authors to put him in situations where he’s staring. Watching. Ogling. Observ–you’ve got the gist of it.

37. “It’s entirely too obvious [...]” by @ofallthingsnasty

[giggling and kicking my feet] the reader makes Sanji sweat cold in this one…I love when he’s nervous, I love when he’s desperate for forgiveness! He doesn’t do anything bad, but the fic is all about him watching the reader eat and obviously liking it a bit too much. The mood is suggestive but overall it stays pretty innocent until the end.

38. 🌶 Voyeurs by snackshack

Thank you Zoro and Nami for your help in making this happen, we couldn’t have done it without you. Sanji and the reader are in a freak4freak relationship, a match made in Heaven. Very good smut and a delicious premise!

39. 🌶 Perversion by glossyjoonie

@Sanji: babygirl you suck ♥ Short and sweet fic part of a larger collection (there are other Sanji-focused chapters, check out those ones, too!) where Sanji gets caught spying on all his favourite ladies: Nami, Robin, and you. Robin sticks around for a while in this one, but in the end the reader is the one who shows Sanji what happens to boys who misbehave.

40. 🌶 Just Between Us by @mytanuki-kun

This man is always spying on you in the shower, in bed, from behind a bush or whatever…it’s about time he gets a taste of his own medicine. I adore this fic, I remember reading the first chapter and hoping the author would update as soon as possible because I was hooked. Sanji catches you ogling him in secret and he plays into it cause he’s a horny bastard and the love of my life. The writing is incredible and Sanji’s characterization is so, so dreamy and sexy and adorable.

That’s all, folks. You have enough material to survive a nuclear war, you can spend many happy decades closed in your bunker eating canned food and reading reader insert One Piece fanfiction.

My final, desperate request is this one: does anyone have the link to a Sanji fic where he’s 40 years old and he hired a babysitter (you) for his kid, but then one night the kid is somewhere else and you two end up hooking up? Please? Pretty please? I think it was part of a collection or series but I can’t find it anywhere!

#sanji/reader #sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji/reader rec list #sanji/reader fics #sanji fanfic #one piece reader insert

315 notes · View notes

measuredingold · 1 year ago

Note

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all.

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter.

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything.

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it.

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?"

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

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wolfjackle-creates · 9 months ago

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 2

Happy WIP Wednesday. Bring Me Home won last week's poll. But it was a close one! If you want a say in what I post next week, be sure to vote in this week's poll. ^.^

Story Summary: Danny's parents find out his secret. It doesn't go well. But he's not alone. His friend Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin, and the Young Justice will not let him suffer.

We switch to Tim's POV for this part.

Warnings: Aftermath of torture

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: First, Last

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

The instant Kon got the door to the lab open, Tim sprinted down the stairs. The first thing he saw was Jack and Maddie standing over a table, green ectoplasm, blood covering everything.

Then his eyes fixed on Danny. Danny, cut open and bleeding with a muzzle on while his parents looked at his insides.

He rushed forward, tackling Maddie and tearing her away from Danny. She screamed and fought back, landing one punch before Tim kicked her back a step. Then he pulled out his staff and landed a hard blow across her chest, forcing her further back.

Next to him, Cassie was taking care of Jack. He exchanged a quick glance with her and the two began herding the pair towards the wall. Away from Danny.

Behind him, Tim could hear Sam call out for Kon then a cry of pain.

“He’s still alive!” called out Kon. “I can hear both his core and heart.”

Tim couldn’t relax. Alive didn’t mean much. He put more force on his next swing of his staff, aiming for Maddie’s shoulder. But she ducked and twisted just right to get under the swing and move closer.

She slashed back with a scalpel, one still covered in Danny’s blood. Tim growled as he blocked it with his arm, the armor of his suit preventing it from reaching skin. He swung his staff again, getting her in the side hard then jerking up to hit her in the armpit.

He smiled in satisfaction when he dislocated her shoulder, causing her to drop the scalpel.

“You’ve got this all wrong!” she protested as she held her shoulder. “Jack and I are the good guys here. The ghosts, they’re all evil!”

Tim snarled. “The only evil I see here are the two so-called scientists who were torturing their own son!”

Maddie tensed at his words. “Don’t you dare say that. I’m trying to save my son from the monster that took his body.”

Tim swung again, aiming for her feet. Already distracted by the pain in her shoulder, the hit landed and she fell. He hit again and he felt her ankle break. Good, she wouldn’t be getting away.

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” growled Tim.

Jack landed on the ground next to his wife, taken out by a punch from Cassie. Tim took the time to swing at him, too.

Again and again and again, he brought his staff down on them. Not stopping as they cried out in pain or as he felt more bones break under his blows. Until the time when he tried to swing down, but his staff refused to move.

He spun around, scowling, to come face to face with Cassie who had his staff firmly in her own grip.

“That’s enough, Rob. They’re down and they won’t be moving. Impulse and I will make sure of it. You need to go with the others.”

Behind her, Tim could see Sam fussing over Danny, still on the table. Bart and Tucker were at the computers trying to download as much information as they could. And Kon was staring right at him.

“Transport?” asked Tim.

Kon pulled out his phone to check. “Just arrived. Let’s go, Rob.”

Tim nodded. “Fine.” To Cassie, he said, “I want them in custody.”

She nodded. “Obviously. We all do. Impulse, Tucker, and I will take care of things here.”

“Then let’s go.” Tim stalked away from Jack and Maddie, refusing to look back. He wasn’t sure he could stop a second time.

Someone must have found a blanket and gotten it under Danny. All Kon had to do was touch the blanket, and it lifted up. Danny was held completely straight in the make-shift stretcher as Kon single-handedly used his TTK to carry him, Sam leading the way out of the lab.

The doors opened for them on the way out, Kon’s TTK again. And sure enough there by the curb was a nondescript van, engine still running.

Jazz got out the driver’s seat the instant Kon appeared in the doorway to open the back of the van.

“Bring him in here! I’ve got a bed set up,” she said.

Kon, of course, went first. But Tim and Sam were only steps behind him. Inside the van, the bench on one side had been fitted with a futon mattress to form a makeshift bed. Overhead, lights had been fitted to make sure the area was bright enough to see. Kon carefully laid Danny down then backed up so Sam and Jazz could move in.

“Keys are in the ignition,” said Jazz. “Get us away from the house, then let Sam and I patch him up.”

“You’ve got it,” said Kon who took his spot behind the wheel.

Tim shut the doors to the van and stood against the opposite side of the van. This was his first good look at Danny.

His friend was still in his Phantom form, but his jumpsuit had been torn and peeled away from his body. His chest was covered in so much blood he could barely see the wound, but the tell-tale y-incision was unmistakable.

Jazz and Sam were carefully wiping away the blood as best they could, using towels that had been neatly stacked in a box next to the cot.

Tim looked around until he saw an empty bucket. He pushed it towards the two girls. “Put the dirty ones in here.”

Kon pulled away from the Fenton house, aiming for their local out-of-town-limits rendezvous spot. “I can keep Danny from being jostled by the road. Don’t know if I can do the same for the rest of you if you’re moving, though.”

“Let’s not test it right now,” said Tim. “But we will be practicing that later. Never know when we might need it again.”

Jazz dropped her first towel and grabbed another. Her hands were shaking.

Tim knelt by her side and placed a hand on her wrist. “Let me. Right now we’re just trying to hold him together and I can do that as well as you can. He’s going to be just fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

“But I’m the one who trained with Frostbite.” Her voice cracked on a sob.

Tim grabbed the towel from her hands and used it to put pressure on Danny’s wound. “And I don’t need specialized training for this part of it.”

Jazz hesitated a moment longer, but with a last look at her brother, she spun and ran to the other side of the van. Tim listened to her muffled cries as he held the towel to Danny’s chest.

Sam shifted until their shoulders were pressed together and he leaned slightly into the touch. Neither said anything.

Soon enough, Kon was pulling off the road and the van came to a stop. The instant it did, Jazz was pushing her way into his place, two boxes in her hand. She opened one to reveal a large first aid kit, as well stocked as anything he had in his most-used safe house.

Tim took up a position at the foot of the bench and pulled out a small camera he had in his belt. He took careful pictures of all the visible wounds. Kon came up besides him and put an arm around his shoulder.

Jazz opened the second case, letting out a hiss of cold air and frost. Without hesitating, she put on two heavy duty gloves and lifted out what looked to be an ice cube.

Sam, meanwhile, was measuring out enough glowing green thread to cover Danny’s wound. Tim took another picture.

Jazz placed four ice cubes into the injury—one at the end of each cut and one where the lines intersected. Then Sam laid the thread over the wound. She muttered something and it phased into Danny’s skin without the use of a needle and pulled the injury together.

The glow faded slightly and if he didn’t know better, Tim would’ve thought they were regular stitches.

From there, they focused on cleaning off the remaining blood. The van was mostly silent—Sam and Jazz only communicating the bare minimum necessary to care for Danny. Even Tim’s camera was entirely silent, designed as it was for stealth.

As Danny was wiped clean, more and more injuries were revealed. Only years of bat training kept Tim standing and taking pictures. But his grip on the camera was much tighter than it needed to be. Kon’s fingers were digging into his shoulder almost painfully, but Tim didn’t say anything. Sam and Jazz were forcibly holding themselves together, but the odd hitch in their breath or tremble in their fingers gave them away, too.

A nasty burn spanning Danny’s left side was revealed. Tim clicked the camera, and Sam applied an ectoplasm-based ointment to it. Then Jazz covered the injury with a bandage.

The process was repeated time and again for each injury they discovered. But eventually, all the wounds were tended to. Once Jazz did a final look, she nodded with grim satisfaction.

“Superboy, could you use your powers to wrap his chest?”

“Of course!” Kon left Tim’s side to grab a roll of gauze and took up his own place at Danny’s side. All he had to do, though, was place the roll on the bed and his powers took care of everything else.

Tim wished he could do something half so useful. Next time Danny managed to get to the Realms, he was so joining him and getting his own lessons directly from Frostbite.

“Just one more thing to do,” said Jazz. She reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a small box. Inside sat a syringe filled with ectoplasm. She jammed it into Danny’s thigh and pressed the plunger.

Danny’s eyes flew opened and he let out a yell as his back arched off the bed.

Sam was already hovering over him. “Danny? How are you feeling?”

Danny panted for breath, but looked at her with a wry smile. “Pretty much the worse I’ve ever felt.” He looked from Sam to Jazz to Kon before meeting Tim’s eyes. “You came.”

“I always will,” said Tim.

-----

Please check out the Subscription Post if you want notifications when I update.

I'm not an expert on emergency medicine, so I figured why not go the magical route?

Tim wishes he could help in a more hands-on way, but documenting injuries is important if you want to bring them up in court. No one knows yet if Danny will want that, but this way they have them in case they're necessary.

Tucker, Bart, and Cassie are remaining behind to bring the Fentons to JL holding cells. Tucker is the one who knows the Fenton computers best after Danny, after all.

All ready we can see some major changes from my original version. What else will change? And, more importantly, what will stay the same?

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #kon el #jazz fenton #sam manson #these poor kids #should not have to deal with situations like this #whatever adult heroes are on duty #when impulse and wonder girl come up #with some trussed up mad scientists #with a bunch of broken bones #crying about illegal experimentation on sapient creatures #are going to regret being on shift #they're not gonna be getting much sleep for the next #...#long while

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wangxianficfinder · 8 months ago

Text

Fic Finder

March 23rd

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1. Hi. Looking for this fic wherein wwx tried to prank lqr and the elders by acting like a Lan. It backfired because they thought wwx was possessed by Lan An, especially when jwy visited cloud recesses (almost causes a war between jiang and lan). For it to end, wwx pretended to be Lan An and said goodbye then fake fainted (as if Lan An left wwx’s body)

please help me find it 🙏

Hi! I’m from the recent fic finder #1. Unfortunately that’s not what i’m looking for because I remember it being post canon (meaning wangxian are already married). I also remember the Lans asked lwj if lwj still do lovers stuff with wwx (as they really thought wwx was possessed by lan an)

FOUND? Wei Wuxian is Definitely Not Possessed by CursedBlessing (T, 20k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, General Dumbassery, Humor)

#1 I think was deleted. I know the fic they're asking about and I can't find it either.

Number 1 is the correct fic, it's just Chapter 3. / Yeah, 1 IS the correct fic, op's scene is the entirety of ch. 3

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2. Hey, I'm looking for a wangxianfic, in which wei ying and lan zhan are already married. Wei ying goes on a night hunt with the juniors and gets hurt. I think it was a cut on the stomach with poison. Lan zhan cares for him but wei ying is almost dying. Lan zhan is davasteted and says that he can't wait for wei ying again. It was a completed work and I think just 4 chapters. Please can you find the title? With kind regards @smarti1997

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3. I'm not sure if this is something I think happened in a fic, or it really exists, but on the off-chance someone know what I'm talking about - the Sunshot Campaign ends differently with Wen Qing/Wen Ning in charge of the Qishan Wen, and as part of reparations(? Maybe?) the family vaults are revealed. Wen Qing warns people not to touch anything but JGS is too greedy and grabs something and dissolves in dust? And then WQ opens the real vault, the first was to stop thieves. Thank you in advance! @katonahottinroof

I know which fic #3 is talking about but i cannot find it either, gonna go deep dive on ao3 tho (is it that one where the wens have a secret passage into the throne room that opens only with wen blood isnt it. unless im mixing fics too)

FOUND! ❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, WangXian, XiQing, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, madam yu bashing (again not completely), MXY Deserves Better) the thing with jgs happen in chapter 34

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4. Hi writing in hopes that someone remembers this fanfiction.:

i once read a fic where LWJ and WWX were stuck in the Xuanwu cave and WWX was i think on the verge of dying but then something emerges from the waters and gives LWJ a deal that if he gives up his voices then as an exchange he can save WWX's life which LWJ obviously does so his voice goes away but by the end of the fic Wangxian go back to the cave where LWJ gets his voice back because he once again strikes a deal with that creature giving up his immortality or something that has to do with him being worshipped for gaining his voice back. was a one shot that i remember clearly and was on ao3 platform also thank you so much cause this blog has bought me my favorite Wangxian fics.

FOUND! Outside Another Yellow Moon by Vamillepudding (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Fairy Tale Elements, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ Needs a Hug, Curse Breaking)

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5. help. hey i am certain the fanfics in my memories exist but they keep on eluding me so there are these 2 fics:

A) the premise of this story was time travel where modern WWX travels back in time when other WWX is living with the wens in the burial mounds when LWJ comes to the borders with his modern counterpart and when modern wangxian meet they have a sweet reunion in which they share a kiss after that they are joined by the hip much to the mortification of OG wangxian. WY's parents are dead (car accident) but madam Lan's alive and he calls her mother or mom and modern them is engaged they also have their phones by which they click a photo and after coming to modern world WY sees that as proof that it actually happened. read it on ao3 muti chaptered (completed) with either 4 or 6 chapters 6 being maximum

B) in this one the main Lan fam is captured body swap between WRH and LWJ occurs and after LWJ realizes what has happen he commands that his body's head be severed which is currently housing WRH's soul and LXC and LQR are present to see that happening and grieve over LWJ not knowing WRH was the one who died and LWJ doesn't inform them about the body swap but tells the guards to take LXC and LQR to their rooms he keeps his own body's severed head in his room also. LWJ asks guards to bring him WWX which they do but injured and WWX sees LWJ's severed head and gets angry he also practices to be more like WRH so nobody suspects this is the most clear i remember there were also i think one appearance of WQ and some from WX and WC was on ao3 ongoing atleast when i was reading think over 5 chapter but under 10 the last i had checked (i was so curios to know what happens next but i lost the fic)

thx and sorry if its too confusing

5B)

FOUND? where the sky begins by Shializaro (Not Rated, 17k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Blood and Violence, Body Dysphoria, Dissociation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Crack Treated Seriously)

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6. Hello! This is for ficfinder, I have lost track of two fics, and would very much like assistance finding them again!

A ) an Addams family style modern au. I cannot remember the title, but Lan Wangji enjoyed the taste of Hemlock tea, Wei Wuxian always dressed in gothic clothes, A-Yuan keeps getting possessed, Wen Ning would die temporarily every now and then then, and the reason Lan Wangji went to Yiling in the first place was to find his mother (madam lan is alive in this one).

B ) Young Prince Lan Wangji fled the palace to avoid an arranged marriage, and met an older Wei Wuxian and traveled with him, keeping his identity a secret. Lan Zichen catches up with them after Wangxian have spent the night together (bottom LWJ), and Lan Zhan is taken back to the palace. Wei Wuxian returns to claim his hand, revealing himself as Baoshan Sanren’s heir. Fix ends with them watching their kids play in Lan Zhan’s mother’s garden.

If you can help me find these, I would appreciate it very much!!!! ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ @cullen-blue23

6A)

NOT FOUND🔒The Altogether Ooky WangXian Family by FluffyHippogriff (T, 72k, WIP, WangXian, 3Zun, Modern AU, Addams Family AU, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, mostly because death can be overcome with the help of a little necromancy, Kid Fic, Comedy)

FOUND! lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood (E, 37k WangXian, Modern AU, Addams Family Vibes, meet cute at a funeral, Madam Lán Lives, Light Horror, Curses, Possession, Fluff and Humor, Developing Relationship, Found Family, Weirdo4weirdo wangxian, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs)

NOT FOUND🔒darkness there and nothing more by wvlfqveen (M, 21k, WangXian, Addams Family Fusion, Magical Realism, Body Horror, Addams Family Levels of Violence, Identity Issues)

6B)

FOUND! Beyond These Walls, the Heart Calls by wayward_wing (E, 13k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Adventure & Romance, Prince LWJ, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Jealous WWX, LWJ Flirts, Sleeping Together, Masturbation, Slight Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, eating ass, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Getting Together, Naive LWJ)

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7. Hi. I've been trying to find this Untamed fanfic which I bookmarked but somehow is not in my bookmarked collection anymore! :(. I think it's post-canon but WWX (of course) is injured and LWJ is helping him recover, told from LWJ perspective totally in-character where he has to remind himself to breathe. Once,wj returned to inn room, found WWX gone from the 2nd bed and he tripped over his own feet and was "resigned to the fall". Once he tucked WWX into his bed and sat at his desk to breathe.

FOUND? Always Light My Way by cqlorphan (E, 27k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Friends With Benefits, to lovers, wherein dual cultivation may be counted as a benefit, Jealous WWX, a little bit, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, angsty sex, Switch WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Service Top LWJ, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, the angsty sex happens in the beginning but they get past it dw, Oblivious LWJ, archer wwx, Smart WWX, Porn with Feelings, probably at least half of this fic is just that, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Cultivation)

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8. thank you again for this wonderful blog! loading up on fics for my next offline trip and i have one that is driving me nuts. I remember seeing the reference here awhile back but for some idiot reason didn't bookmark it. What I remember is something like this : its after canon - Wei Ying is back, its after Guanyin's temple - but Lan Zhan has a soulmate to get back to so leaves Wei Ying alone on the road. that scene in Untamed haunted me. does this ring any bells? appreciate any help!! @oldoni

FOUND! Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers (E, 60k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Case Fic, betrothed to someone else, unfurling of wifexian scrolls: the fic, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, (it gets resolved lol), WWX POV, Protective wwx, WWX centric, explicit stuff only happens between wangxian, (or wwx and his own hand), Masturbation, get wwx a fainting couch agenda, Alcohol, wwx has some brain problems in this one, Consensual Non-Consent, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, straight boy WWX)

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9. Hello! Please help me find this fic. I don’t remember much, but there was an OC lan elder, who is rescued or helped by Wei Wuxian. I am not sure but Wei Ying didn’t know he was a lan or something. Later on they meet again and elder favours or helps him. I am sorry for being vague, but this is what I remember. It would be great if somebody knows what this fic may be !

Hello, this is requester for number 9. I am really grateful for the person who replied but unfortunately I don’t think that it is the fic I am looking for. As far as I remember wasn’t QHJ, rather an OC lan elder. However I really love the suggestion and enjoyed the fic, so thank you for that!

NOT FOUND The Shadows of My Old Palaces, Falling Across The Moats by ChilianXianzi (T, 8k, WangXian, onesided QHJ/WWX, Canon Divergence, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, QHJ lives, Domestic, Angst, POV Outsider, Age Difference, Fix-It of Sorts)

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10. for the FF: it was a fic where wx are full time dom/sub (sub wwx), i dont rmmbr much except that theres a part where jc causes a scene fearing lwj is abusing him (bc fulltime d/s, he chooses what wwx eats, wears, etc) and jyl has to tell him to shut up and that her and jzx are in a d/s relationship too! i read it ages ago T^T its not "something so flawed and free" by verseau btw! thank u guys <33 love u all mwah

FOUND! rainfall by daltoneering (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, lifestyle kink, 24/7 D/s, Kink Negotiation, kink discussion, Communication, BDSM, dom lwj, Sub wwx, Top LWJ, Bottom wwx, Kink Exploration, collaring, Body Writing, Breathplay, Orgasm Denial, Bondage, Subdrop, Safewording, Panic Attacks, [Podfic of] rainfall by exmanhater)

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11. Hiii! I don't remember much except for the first few chapters, but the fic was really long. I think the plot started off as "What if the Incident in Qiongdi Path never happened?"

The first chapter or so takes place at Jin Lings one month celebration

Wei Wuxian is really damn depressed the whole time (he's really damn depressed the whole fic actually)

Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan never die. Yanli wants to spend time with Wei Wuxian and she makes some soup, but he gets spooked at some point and Wen Ning helps him run away back to the Burial Mounds???

At some point later on in the fic, Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli go to Cloud Recesses and they bring some food for Wangxian.

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12. hii :D im looking for a modern au fic where lz works as a in pharmaceutics and meets wy who is the tech guy of their apartment. he calls himself mo xuanyu and lives with ayuan and is trying to escape his past with the help of police officer nmj. i think there was an autistic lz tag in that fic too. it was so good but i think i forgot to bookmark it.. thanks for your help! @harapecowee

FOUND! Stop and Stay by Fantazy_Eyeland7 (M, 98k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/JGY, SL/XXC, WIP, Blood and Violence, Hurt WWX, Kidnapping, Torture, WWX discovering weighted blankets, Pining LWJ, Modern, FBI Agent NMJ, Protective LWJ, Emotional Manipulation, Toxic JGY, not JGY friendly, LWJ learning how to communicate, WangXian have competence kinks, adopting children, Bad Parent YZY, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Protective NMJ, Past Child Abuse, Precious LSZ, Baby LJY, Warning: XY, Blind Character, slaps top of WWX: This bad boy can fit so much trauma inside, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everyone is ending up in well-needed therapy, Child Abandonment, Genius WWX, Obsessive XY, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Eventual Smut, Bad Parent JFM, Junior Quartet Dynamics, (As Babies!), Implied/Referenced Suicide, sort of a slow burn, but not really, because they KNOW, they just can't, Good Uncle LQR, eventually) It doesn't have the austistic!lz tag, but everything else fits.

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13. Hi! 🤗

I'm looking for two fics:

A) A fic where WQ makes a second operation with WWX and JC. The only thing I remember is that WWX is really in a bad condition and they ask JC to give the half of the golden core to WWX. He accepts.

B) I'm not sure if it's one o two fics that I'm mixing, but all I remember is that LWJ when he knows about the lost golden core of WWX, decided to make a second golden core inside him to give it to WWX.

Thanks for the wonderful work! 🥰 @wangxiansgirl

13A)

FOUND! The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

NOT FOUND! Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) might also be, (around chapter 43)?

NOT FOUND! in this place where we don’t have a prayer by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T, 42k, WangXian)

13B)

FOUND? 🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 178k, WIP, WangXian, Lots of Angst, Hurt/Comfort, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect, Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ) If 13B is different from 13A, maybe B is Discarded Lan Zhan creates a "seed core" that Wei Ying can use to grow a new core.

FOUND? these colours fade for you only by doodlebutt (T, 36k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, ...eventually, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign)

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14. Im trying to find a fic

It was modern setting and maybe has cultivation still? wwx is a tattoo artist and I believe lwj saw some type dark energy out side his shop. So he went in and ending up saying he wanted a tattoo, wwx was who ended up talking to him about it and making him a design. I think it had something to do with bunnies and, then finally when the day came for lwj to get the tattoo. He’s like I’m sorry I never wanted one, wwx gets upset and tells lwj to pay him money in cash for compensation. Lwj does that’s all I can remember I think wwx might have adopted or least helps take care of a -yuan. @zerokogane

FOUND! Demon Ink by Jade_Valentine (E, 189k, WIP, WangXian, Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Tattoo Artist WWX, Magic, Chaotic Bisexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, background NieLan, Slow Burn, Angst, But substantially less angst than canon, Mutual Masturbation, Domestic Fluff, Welcome to my LWJ & NHS friendship agenda, Shower Sex, Brief mentions of past Lan Bro abuse at the hands of LQR, wangxian family feels, WWX is the Best Dad Ever, WWX's canonical abuse at the hands of Madam Yu, Blow Jobs, Slight Make-Up Kink)

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15. Fic finder request please!!

This is a short omegaverse wangxia? I think it might’ve been part of a series? where it’s Omega WWX and YZY gets him married off to LWJ where she expects him to be treated badly. Instead bc the Lana treat omegas very well, WWX is happy and content. Meanwhile JYL is jealous that WWX actually got mating bites and equal status bc Jin Zixuan didn’t even do that for her. I can’t remember anything else. 😅

FOUND!🔒Alliance AU by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

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16. Sorry to be asking this(fic finder), I really don’t remember how I got to this fic but now I cannot find it but I feel like it probably was here

It’s a fic about how when wwx comes back to life he meets lxc instead of lwj in Mo manor. he asks for lwj and that confirms to lxc that he is wwx and not Mo xuanyu and asks him to go back with him to cloud recesses where he takes care of lwj who couldn’t heal after the 33 leash punishment.

At first wwx doesn’t want lwj to know that it’s him. He brings him bunnies and helps him re learn how to play the guqin(he cannot play it due to his injuries and because he hasn’t practiced since he was punished) lan Yuan helps wwx to learn how to play it and lwj starts being more active

Lxc is happy and let’s wwx go to a small one week vacation but lwj gets worse that week, he also discovers mxy is wwx I think

Tsm for the help🙇‍♀️

~*~

17. hi! i’m looking for two fics:

A) one where wei ying lives with ghosts and is a teacher and runs into lan zhan for the first time in years during a class field trip

B) all i can remember is that wei ying wrote a software called yiling

17A)

FOUND! won’t take the easy road by twigofwillow (T, 47k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, space au, yearning, found family, complicated family feels, ghosts, food, teacher WWX)

17B)

NOT FOUND Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing) I think no. 17 might be "Tempo Rubato" but the software is "Stygian"

NOT FOUND The Fated Fortuity by devinokaze (T, 26k, wangxian, WIP, Royalty AU, Modern, Social Media, WWX is Wen Ruohan's son, Qishan Wen Kingdom, stangers to lovers, Prince WWX) The software is called Yin Tiger Tally and Su She tries to claim he wrote it lol.

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18. Hello!! All good? I'm looking for a fic in which WWX becomes a god after his death, I think he's the god of death if I remember correctly. I remember a part where Madam Yu and her Husband (the leader of the Jiang sect) decide to reincarnate... I don't remember much, it's been a while since I read it, another thing I remember is that he communicated with Jiang Cheng through dreams. I already searched the Tag Deity Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian but I didn't find it... Thank you for your work!! @sweettiebah

FOUND! 🔒 Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, rape/non-con, underage, graphic depictions of violence, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, God WWX, God Verse, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Gods & Goddesses au, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell)

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19. heyy could u help me find a fic, I only vaguely remember the details

I read this quite a while ago, wwx is some sort of courtesan, pretty sure he works in a brothel, lwj is either a cultivator (like in canon) or he's a noble/king smth like that! he meets wwz in the brothel place and I think wwx is pretty sly, MAYBE he's wearing dresses and I'm pretty sure they get married in the end? I think someone in the lan clan is against wwx (either lxc or lqr) and I'm also pretty sure it's a pwp, they might have been conspiring too, it's all very vague! any help would be appreciated thanks!!!

FOUND! 醉 | drunk; intoxication by sweetlolixo (E, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mythical Creature WWX, everyone falls in love with weiying at first sight..., Besotted LWJ, Romance, Pregnant WWX, Fluff)

~*~

20. Hi I’m looking for a fix where sizhui and jingyi travels back to the past (maybe to the conference) and they make commentary during the entire time they were waiting to get back to their present. I think in this fix, sizhui revealed that some of the people (madam Yu and others) are listed on lan zhan’s lists. Sizhui also mentions that lan zhan has several lists for different things. Also jinyi called Jin guangshan jin guangshit throughout the whole time they’re there. Thanks

FOUND? A Room Full of Dead People by BurningBlueDiamond (T, 10k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It, but not really, Canon Divergence, Conference in Qinghe but canonically they stay in Gusu, strangely fluffy, POV Outsider)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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senualothbrok · 2 months ago

Text

Come What May

Summary: On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

An alternative act 2 romance scene, featuring a Tav who is a cleric of Ilmater. "Come What May" is a song from "Moulin Rouge".

AO3 link

Non-18+. Angst with a happy ending.

Trigger warnings: references to prostitution (Tav's mother), sexual trauma, grief/bereavement, graphic depictions of illness, Gale's suicidal ideation.

A/N: This fic is a response to the anon who requested an alternative act 2 romance scene between Gale and a Tav who wants to save intimacy for after marriage. I feel that I should apologise because I am clearly incapable of writing a straightforwardly sweet/romantic piece which does not involve trauma and angst of some sort. I have no idea why this happened, please forgive me.

Please note the trigger warnings and exercise self-care. It is, however, angst with a happy ending.

I highly recommend listening to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge during/after you read this.

I deliberated over whether to post this. It feels like my weakest work, and I feel slightly ashamed about it. I'm still not sure if it's good enough to post, but decided to bite the bullet because I wanted to give it to the anon who reached out. I really hope it does bring some comfort and enjoyment to someone out there.

I cannot thank my dear friends @inglorionamy-ammy and @dekariosclan enough for being truly wonderful beta readers and helping me with some major edits on this piece. Thank you and I am forever grateful for your kind hearts and keen minds.

“I’m in love with you.”

There is anguish in Gale’s eyes. His voice trembles with fear and urgency. You feel it all, a sunbeam shooting through the blue-green haze he has conjured around you. For you.

You gaze at him, breathless. Nothing compares, not even the beauty and wonder of his creation. When Gale looks at you, you do not feel dread, that ancient squirming beneath your skin. He is not the lumbering colossus of your nightmares, leaving a trail of whimpering bruises on your mother’s flesh. When he is near, you feel a yearning to draw closer, not away. You had never thought that possible with a man.

In that moment, you are possessed by a wild terror. An agonising thought that he will slip through your fingers, as though he never was. His last night alive.

Your heart surges, and you cannot stop it. You answer without thinking.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Panic seizes you. Your admission is a sacred boundary crossed. A bulwark broken. You have the urge to bolt before all is lost.

But then Gale’s face lifts. It radiates with a smile, and all at once, you are beaming with the knowledge that you are the cause. Fleetingly, you let yourself imagine the miracle of seeing that smile again and again for the rest of your days. It is not a leering grin from which you flee, nor a repulsed grimace from which you hide. Sometimes, in his presence, there is something about solitude that no longer feels like safety, but loss. It bewilders you.

He huffs out a laugh, and you are mesmerised by the curl of his eyelashes, delicate as butterfly wings.

“That’s a relief. It’d be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

There is a flame in his eyes that sets you alight. You cannot look away. You do not want to. Something swollen simmers in the space between you, just as it had that night when the Weave had made you one.

He dips towards you. You are drifting towards him, dizzy from his scent. It is like nothing you have breathed before. There is no trace of sourness, no stale grease. It is sandalwood and leather, scrolls and soap. You are entranced by the plump curve of Gale’s lips, the soft earth of his eyes. In your mind, you see the smooth curve of his shoulders, broad and welcoming. His feather light fingers turning a page, like a sculptor’s touch on setting clay.

The glaring marks on your mother’s neck, withering into wounds. The blood of her scabs, pooling in her navel.

You flinch.

Confusion flits across his features. You shift away.

“I'm sorry,” you manage. “I can't.”

You are winded by his spasm of hurt, a storm of despair, rejection, doubt. Part of you wishes you did not have this gift, this curse of Ilmater - to read others’ pain, to feel others' suffering so deeply it becomes your own. And you know, as you reel from the chains you cannot shed, that you should say no more. But you cannot bear it. You cannot let him suffer from a lie.

“I love you,” you choke. “But I can't.”

His brows steeple. He is silent. The thought that he does not believe you is a torment. You cannot be another loss, another reason for him to believe his life means nothing. To convince himself there is no one who would mourn his death.

The words spill out as though you are clutching, searching.

“I made a vow.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “A vow.” His gaze darkens. “You're promised to another.”

“No.” You jerk your head, frantic. “No. It’s not that…”

He stiffens, as though he is braced for a blow. That he would expect harm from you is devastating.

“I made a promise to Ilmater,” you confess. “I can't be… intimate with anyone. Not like that.”

His eyes widen. You notice that there are flecks of gold in the brown of his irises, flaring with surprise. You fumble for proof, excuses, anything to skirt around the edge of it. The scar inside you that no one but Brother Rogier has seen. Your burden, your wound. Yours and yours alone.

“It keeps me safe.” You sound frenetic. “So that I can heal. I can't be charmed, or harmed by phantasm. Ilmater protects me from–”

It is ridiculous. You feel it as you speak. To suggest that such feeble protections would keep you from the magnitude of his love, when he is certain he will soon be dust and ash. Insulting. You are ashamed.

Disbelief curdles in the tight line of his lips.

“Please. There’s no need for that.” He looks away. “You have a compassionate heart. That much is clear. But there's no need to go to such lengths to spare what remains of my pride.”

You stare at him, bereft. “Gale–”

“I understand perfectly.” His voice is broken glass. “And I would never force my heart on someone who doesn't reciprocate my affections, no matter how pitiful I may appear.”

He turns his back to you. You can no longer see his face. This is the right thing, you tell yourself. The good thing. He will walk away, and you will remain intact. Safe. You will endure.

But a frenzy has come over you. As you watch the sagging of his shoulders, the clenching of his hands, you realise that you do not want it. You do not want this sacrifice, this secret.

You want him.

You have never wanted anything so much.

You lurch forward. He spins around at the desperate questing of your fingers, lacing into his. You fall to your knees, pressing his hand to your heart. Recognition sparks in his eyes as your tadpole brushes against his.

“Please,” you whisper. “Let me show you.”

****

She used to be beautiful, you thought, kneeling there beside her. You stared at the welts marring her olive skin, her scarlet hair flaking to rust. There was a sore on your mother's thigh, weeping with pus, and you looked away when Brother Rogier pressed on it, ashamed at your squeamishness.

You had seen far worse, waiting in dark alleyways and side streets while she heaved, clamped against the wall by some hooded giant, or kneeling as a grunting shadow loomed over her. You had never felt disgust or shock, only vague impatience, as you watched her finish and rearrange her skirts. Coins jangled in her pockets as she took your hand, bounding towards the promise of candlelight in the distance. Later on those nights, she would hold you close in a warm bed, lulling you to sleep with whispered songs. With a full stomach and a formless hope, you ignored the greasy stench of strangers’ sweat which she could never shed.

It angered you, how nauseous you felt, as you listened to the bubbling crackle of your mother's breathing. You were only ten, but you were no longer a child, and you knew her moments were numbered. To feel disgust as she lay there, leaking into a peeling pallet, a guttering flame - it was the greatest betrayal. A sin you could never forgive. When Brother Rogier covered your mother's modesty with his usual gentleness, you started to cry.

You had been suspicious of him at first, stooped and shrouded in his tattered grey robe. You had never met a priest of Ilmater. All you could see was his bald head, so shiny it looked wet, and the backs of his calloused hands, hairy as a beast’s. When he first took hold of your mother after her collapse, you screamed.

But he did not scold or strike you. He spoke to you softly, as an equal, not a child.

“I want nothing from your mother, or from you,” he said. “I have sworn a vow of chastity.”

He had crouched to look you in the eye. It was a dignity you had never been given before, as the ugly runt of a streetwalker. It made you feel like he truly saw you, in a way that no one but your mother did.

“It means I will never take a woman or a man. She is safe with me. And so are you.”

And you were. With him, you felt safe. He was the only other person who would touch her, when the sickness ravaged her body and her mind. He tended to her in the temple with poultices and prayers, giving you food, water and shelter. She was well beyond thanking him by then, all speech and thought swallowed up in decay. Yet when her fire was snuffed out, he was the one who stood with you, cleaning her for burial. He was the one who anointed her so carefully, so reverently, for a return to Ilmater’s embrace.

“Ilmater sees you,” Brother Rogier had said. “He bears your suffering.”

And as you wept into your mother's cold, hard hands, with Brother Rogier steadfast beside you, you thought of every stranger who sucked and thrust your mother's beauty out of her. You thought of their relentless claws in the darkness, and Brother Rogier’s tender fingers in the light. You thought of your life, broken and empty, but for Ilmater's unexpected kindness.

And you made a promise. You promised you would never give your body as your mother had. All that you were, all that you had, you vowed to give to the Crying, Broken God, the one who stood with you and endured.

****

There is a tiny scar near his temple, framed by a dew drop of a mole. You had never noticed them before. As you lie facing him, cocooned in the illusion of the lush grass beneath and the boundless night above, you drink in every pore of his bronze-kissed face, every shadow that lifts as his gaze roams over you. You feel it like a caress, drifting over the patches and blemishes marring your skin, and for the first time in your life, you do not feel the need to hide them.

“Tav.” His voice is so low, you strain to hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

He draws closer. He has seen the gaping hole inside you, and he remains. You can feel his longing to comfort, his desire to heal. It is a familiar urge, your second nature. It would be a gift, if you could accept his reassurance. If you could rest in his embrace. If only.

He senses your hesitation. Abruptly, he pauses, his fingers hovering above yours.

“Is this… alright?” Worry twists his features. “Are you comfortable with–”

“It’s alright.”

He gestures between you. “Because if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can–”

“It doesn’t.”

He frowns, questioning, fretting.

“I'm sorry.” You look down. “I'm sorry I can't…”

He jolts. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the point of your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I love you.” His brow quivers. “There are countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. The joining of bodies, the pleasures of the flesh…they're but one stitch in a vast tapestry. My love for you goes far deeper, burns far brighter.”

You gaze at him, motionless. When you speak again, your voice is torn.

“I want to. With you. One day, when I’m not...”

You grimace as the images flash through your mind. The weeping scratches on your mother’s breast. The oily sheen on her calloused skin. You try to blink them away.

“When I can, I want to.”

He nods slowly, firmly. He shines, as though there are no more shadows between you. That there never could be.

“It’s different with you.” You try to explain. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to hide. When I’m close to you, I feel…safe.”

You know it is not enough, but it is all you have. You can only give him the truth, no more, no less.

“You’re not like the others,” you say finally. “I… want to be with you. To…touch you.”

You clasp his hand. There is the faintest glow of lavender that trails down the muscles of his neck, a glinting sliver of his chest through the opening of his robe. You look at him with concern. He grimaces slightly. You think you see a trace of embarrassment, but you are not sure.

“I - ah –”

His mouth opens, closes. He struggles for words.

“Is it hurting?” You wince. “We can try that poultice again, I have some in my–”

“I’m alright,” he huffs. “I’m quite alright, Tav.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not…quite.” He shakes his head. “Not now. It’s–”

He bites his lip. There is a strange silence, as though you have reached a frontier you cannot pass. And yet, the intensity of his gaze draws you, like a thread tethering your soul to his. Your fingers follow its path, hovering over the dark ring at his centre. He tilts his head, and almost imperceptibly, he nods.

His eyelids flutter at your touch. The lines of the orb feel like a scar, a stitch sinking into his skin. There is a coldness to the purple pulse under your fingers. You notice that Gale has stopped breathing. You draw back.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he answers immediately. His lips are parted. You catch the wet glimmer of his tongue. “Not at all.”

He clears his throat. You swallow. For a moment, you cannot look at each other. He runs his hand through his hair, while you fuss at your tunic. A hushed heat falls over you, and as if on cue, you both roll onto your backs, fixing your gazes on the celestial canvas.

It is quiet for a long time. And then your hand returns to his, as if it belongs there. You trace the grooves on his palm, as he caresses the callouses of your knuckles.

“I would wait an eternity for you.” His voice is rough, fractured. “If only I could…but the orb, the fate Mystra demands of me–”

“You don’t deserve this,” you choke.

He scoffs, a burst of anger and disgust. “I was foolish. Selfish. It was unconscionable. I endangered everyone around me–”

You spin back to him. “You don’t deserve this, Gale. Not this. Not her abandonment and punishment. Not any of it.”

He stares at you. There is both a hardening and a softening in him as he wrestles with your words. You understand. You know how it feels to grapple with a burden, haunted by whether you can ever lay it down. Plagued by whether you should.

A tangle of hair falls into your eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches up to tuck it behind your ear. Your skin tingles from the ghost of his touch.

“I could never tire of looking at your face,” he breathes. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile. Watching you laugh. Being with you, basking in the miracle of your presence.” He closes his eyes, as if committing you to memory. “When the time comes, this is what I’ll picture. Only you.”

The sorrow of his smile floods you. The resolution, the resignation in it. All at once, you are drowning. He gasps, flinching forwards.

“Please.” His thumb draws gentle circles on your cheek, brushing away your falling tears. “My love, please don't cry.”

He speaks with a tortured awe, as though no one has ever wept from his pain.

“I would never want to bring you grief. Only joy. Beauty. Happiness and wonder.”

“Then don't do it.” You try to stifle your sobs. “We can work this out together. You don’t have to die.”

You cup his flickering hand against your skin.

“Any goddess who would ask you to do this isn’t worthy of your love. You're worth more than any mistakes you’ve made. So much more than this cruel forgiveness. You’re… everything.”

Ilmater would never ask this. He would see Gale, his regrets, his triumphs, his goodness and kindness. His love. Ilmater would bear his suffering as his own. He would walk with Gale through the roses and the thorns. You wish you could make him see.

But he does not see it. “Please don't cry,” is all he says, as he wipes away your tears.

***

“What's your happiest memory?”

It feels like a deflection at first. A misguided focus on your sorrow instead of his own. You do not want to back down. You want to convince him that Mystra is wrong, that he deserves to live, that he should endure. But there is a plea in his question, a ragged insistence, and you cannot refuse him.

You close your eyes as you consider.

“My mother loved to sing,” you start. “When she sang, it was like time stood still. Her voice was so beautiful… I can’t describe it, but I remember it. Everything about her was beautiful… until she got sick.”

You feel your mother’s crimson waves, wrapped like a veil around you. The cradle of her arms, so thin and willowy, yet strong as spider silk.

“Just before she got sick, my mother took me to a tavern to see Red Millie. A singer - you won’t have heard of her, but she was a celebrity around our parts. The barkeep took one look at us and tried to throw us out, but we managed to hide away at the back.”

You remember your glee, sneaking with your mother through the gaps in the crowd, shrouded in shadows. There was a whimsy, a spirit within your mother that no amount of degradation and destitution could ever kill. Not until the very end.

Gale’s jaw clenches. “Blind prejudice. Needless cruelty, to deny such simple pleasures to a woman and her child. What I wouldn’t do to give that fool a piece of my mind.”

A tide of tenderness washes over you. You squeeze his hand.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. But thank you.”

Reluctantly, he eases. His anger moves you in a way you cannot describe. You are reminded of how Brother Rogier chased off the boys that spat and threw stones at you, as though there was nothing that mattered more than your dignity.

“It was incredible, anyway,” you go on. “My first time at a real show. It was the only time I saw my mother’s face light up like that. Red Millie had red hair just like hers, and a voice that could bring warriors to their knees. And that night, she sang this song, a song I’ll never forget.”

It takes you unawares, how clearly you can still hear it. How it echoes inside you like a temple bell.

“Afterwards, my mother looked at me like she’d never done before. She was smiling, and there were tears in her eyes, and she held me so tightly I thought she would never let me go.”

Your chest heaves. She is a bottomless ache. You struggle to find your breath.

“What was the song?” Gale asks softly.

The grasp of his hand stills you. No one but Brother Rogier has ever heard you sing. You have always thought your song fragile, brittle, like thawing ice. It has always been a secret part of yourself, set aside for your mother and Ilmater alone. But when Gale asks, it is a foregone conclusion. Something you give him freely and without reservation.

And so, with your tears mirrored in his eyes, you sing him your mother’s song.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather

And stars may collide

But I love you

Until the end of time

Come what may

I will love you

Until my dying day”

****

“Come.” He stands suddenly, lithe with determination. “I want to show you something.”

He reaches down to you, and when you take his hand, the world around you dissolves into a whirl of blinding light. You stumble, but with his fingers intertwined in yours, there is no space inside you for trepidation. There is only wonder.

He strides forward. You gasp as a vista of oak, marble, and vellum streams from his free hand. Not for the first time, you are enthralled by Gale in his element, working miracles from the Weave. You marvel at the sculptures and paintings that appear around you, the plush seats and ornate walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books. Within this sanctuary of deep reds and gilded greens, open tomes and scribbled notes gleam in the glow of the fireplace. All you see and feel and smell is Gale.

“This is my home in Waterdeep. The centre of my universe.”

You stand speechless, taking it all in - the gift of Gale’s trust, the purity of his love as he bears his soul to you. With a flourish, Gale leads you towards an intricately carved piano that waits in the corner of the room.

“This is beautiful, Gale.”

You are referring to all of it - Gale's art, his home and haven, Gale himself. But Gale beams down at the piano with a special focus.

“It was my mother's.”

His thumb grazes its elaborate markings. There is such a delicacy in the gesture. An act of worship.

“She gave it to me, when I finally got my act together and moved into my own place. What a day of joy and mourning that was.”

He chuckles, brimming with memories. You wish you could see them all.

“She was a marvellous pianist, back in the day, when her fingers were nimbler. Truly exceptional. She was no wizard, but to hear her play–”

His hands dance, fervent with admiration.

“She played with such passion, such unparalleled mastery, that her music had a magic of its own.”

He gestures to the bench in front of the piano. As you sit, your thigh brushes against his. His fingers trail idly over the keys.

“It was always a treat as a child, to perch here beside her and watch her play. No matter how much of a menace I'd been, how exhausted she was from the endless havoc I wreaked and all the questions about the universe I demanded she answer. No matter how incandescent she was with me for burning this or summoning that…”

He gives a huff of affection.

“She would still invite me to sit beside her and listen. Every time.”

Gale's smile illuminates every part of him. It is a smile like no other, a fixed star in an endless night.

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

He bobs his head. “Indeed. Formidable, and fearsome, and wonderful. You would like her. And she would adore you.”

There is an instant before he holds your gaze - a flurry of his fingers, a low murmur. And then, the piano bursts into life with a familiar song that shatters your heart into a thousand pieces before restoring them one by one, sealed in gold.

You are shaking. “Gale,” you whisper through tears. “The song–”

He takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. You feel it all - the roughness, the smoothness, the swelling storm, the steady sea. There is so much more you want to tell each other, things that spill over the seams of speech, lapping at the edges of all your empty spaces. In this moment, you do not need it. You simply listen.

****

You are sitting on the balcony. Framed by golden shafts of sunlight, he looks like a vision from your dreams, real and unreal at the same time. You know everything around you is an illusion, a haze of yearning and remembrance. Yet it is truer than anything you have ever seen or felt, greater than all your nightmares, the spectres of the past. It is his world, melting into yours, making you one.

“My favourite spot.”

He pats the velvet seat beneath you. Dust motes shimmer in the rising air.

“Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”

He looks out into the horizon, the shifting waves and seagulls soaring overhead. You are reminded that he has created all of this from memory. The undulations of the arches before you, the chiselled grooves of the stone floor beneath you. The bustling docks and well worn buildings of Waterdeep in the distance. The empty wine glasses on the table, reflecting the setting sun. You feel the love and longing in his creation. You see the mourning in his frown, the dark determination in the twisting of his mouth. A farewell.

“You'll come back here,” you tell him. “When this is all over. You'll be back.”

He turns back to you. There is a faltering, a crack in his conviction. You hope, with every ardent prayer within you, that it is enough.

Your hand seeks his. “What's your happiest memory?”

A fleeting surprise passes over his features, but there is no hesitation.

“This,” he says. “Now. Being here with you.”

You are taken aback by the force of his sincerity, the gratitude that glistens in his gaze. Of all his accolades, all his many accomplishments and adventures, of all the people he has loved and lain with, this is what he cherishes most. You, bruised and battered as you are. Only you.

“And for you, I’ll wait.” He clasps both of your hands in his. “I'll wait for as long as it takes. A thousand years could pass, and I'd still be here, waiting.” His lips curl. “If you'll still have me, that is.”

You cannot help but laugh at his unexpected pun, and the hint of pride in it. Your cheeks flush with the implication of his smirk. It takes you a beat to register what he has said. When you do, you halt.

“Is that a promise?”

He freezes. Desperately, you search his face.

“It's a promise.” You surge forward. “You're going to wait till the day I can give myself to you completely, mind, body and soul. You're going to live.”

He looks down at his hands, wrapped up in yours. You can feel the roiling inside him, the relentless battle between hope and sacrifice. And when his eyes meet yours again, you are overcome by a love that blazes through everything hidden and broken within you.

There is the ghost of a nod, and his hair skims your neck as you reach for him. When your lips find his, he trembles, his hands questing, coming to rest at the small of your back. You cup his cheeks, and the caress of his tongue against yours is a prayer answered. A vow.

In the warmth of his embrace, you watch the weary sun take its dive into the sea. He holds you close, and as the piano whispers your mother’s song, you let the gentle rhythm of his breaths lull you into sleep.

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

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#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale fic #bg3 gale fic #gale fanfiction #gale romance #bg3 gale fanfiction #gale x tav #gale x oc #baldurs gate 3 fic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale romance

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hehetmongi · 2 months ago

Text

fever pitch - (kang yeosang/reader)

summary: you're on your period; yeosang comes home early to help you out. also cross posted to ao3

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

tags: alternate universe - modern setting, established relationship, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, menstrual sex, vaginal fingering, shower sex, hurt/comfort, reader uses she/her pronouns, 18+ mdni

word count: 4.1k

note: cis woman reader. centers heavily on menstruation and there's a bit of unsanitary-ness (reader bleeds on the sheets accidentally) so please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!

due to tumblr's formatting, yeosang's texts are in bold and reader's texts are italicized. if this is difficult for you to read, i highly encourage checking out the ao3 link instead!

You wake to an ache between your legs, and not in a fun way.

You groan as you sit up, the sensations coming in faster and sharper than you anticipate. Your head pounds, your feet feel numb, but the worst of it is your abdomen. The cramping, the exhaustion, the vague feeling like you’ve wet yourself, or something — yeah, you’ve been through this enough times to know this is your period hitting you like a truck.

You can already tell it’ll be a painful one. You’re not exactly regular, and when your period does come in, you’re usually out of it for a few days due to the pain. It’s always been this way, and you can manage fine on your own, but you have to admit that you’d really like Yeosang’s company.

With a glance at the alarm clock — reading 8:42am, from where you can see it over Yeosang’s empty side of the bed — you trudge out of Yeosang’s room. You brace an arm against the wall as you make your way to the bathroom, narrowly dodging Wooyoung’s hip-check as he passes you in the hallway.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

You glare daggers at him. When he catches your eyes, he staggers a few exaggerated steps back.

“Geez, you look pissed. ”

You ignore him, deciding he’s not even worth the energy. It takes considerable effort to clean yourself up and into a fresh new pad, but thankfully you didn’t get any blood on your shorts. You take a quick painkiller before heading straight back to bed. You have the day off, but it’s not as though you’re going to spend it relaxing.

You clutch a plushie — a Doberman toy Yeosang gifted you on your third date — toward your abdomen. It’s nice to have something to grasp onto and that reminds you of him, you think, as you roll over to the nightstand by Yeosang’s side of the bed. You grab your phone, quickly glancing at the notifications you haven’t read. You gloss over the emails (mostly ads and a couple of work emails you won’t actually open until you’re on the clock) and smile at your iMessages.

MESSAGES - 45m

yeosang <3

Miss you so much 🥺

MESSAGES - 2h

yeosang <3

Let me know when you wake up!

MESSAGES - 2h

yeosang <3

Good morning 🥰

Your heart swells with warmth. Your relationship with Yeosang is still somewhat new, but every day he reminds you that this is real, and you are incredibly lucky to have someone as kind and loving as him as a partner. So far, your lives seem to slot together perfectly — cute dates, spending the night at each other's apartments, soft touches and meaningful conversations — he was everything you dreamed of, and more. It almost seems too good to be true.

(Admittedly, part of you is waiting for the ball to drop. A relationship this happy has to change eventually. And since Yeosang is such a perfect partner, you suspect you’ll probably be the cause.)

You roll onto your back, tapping a quick message in response. You don’t want him to get too worried, but you figure you should say something so he knows you won’t be responding to any future messages right away.

good morning! 💛💖 sorry i’m late baby!

just got my period :( i feel gross and really tired

You blush a little at your use of a pet name. You know he likes it, but you’re still not sure if it sounds right. You want him to feel as endeared as you do when he uses pet names for you.

His reply comes less than a minute later.

There you are!! Good morning, my dear 🥰

No worries. Please take it easy today. I’ll be thinking of you~

Something in your stomach flips, but you’re not sure if it’s from your period or if that’s the effect Yeosang has on you. You settle on it being a little bit of both as you start to type your reply.

i love you 🫶

wish you were here!

Ah, do you want me to come home early and take care of you?

I’d be happy to do that ^_^

nono i’ll be fine!! promise!!

please don’t worry about me i swear i’m fine :’)

I’ll come home in a heartbeat. Just say the word

You clutch your plushie close to your chest. Having Yeosang take care of you would be a really lovely way to spend the day. Much better than staying holed up in Yeosang’s room, clutching your stomach as you hear Wooyoung fumbling around in the kitchen, at least. But you know Yeosang is working hard, and you really don’t want to take him from that.

I have to go :( send me updates? I want to hear how your day is going

You can let Wooyoung know if you need help too. He’s good with this type of thing.

You scrunch your nose. While you like Wooyoung fine, and he’s pretty good at giving you and Yeosang privacy when you need it, you’re not exactly comfortable asking him for help with something like cramps. It feels… personal, and incredibly burdensome. And if you’re already hesitating to ask Yeosang for that kind of help, what business do you have asking his roommate?

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. It opens a crack before you hear Wooyoung call your name aloud, and you grunt in response. Wooyoung must take it as an affirmative, because he opens it wide.

“Yeosang said you’re not feeling well,” he announces, glancing down at his phone, “and that I should keep an eye on you until he’s home.”

You frown. “Um, thank you, but I don’t really need help.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow.

You try to step out of bed, but a knife twists in your gut and pins and needles twist all along your legs. The sensation makes you wince, sucking in a large gulp of air.

Wooyoung rushes to your side, taking your arm to steady you. When he hears your stuttering breath, he shakes his head. “Don’t… do that. Just stay in bed. I’ll cook you something.”

You blanch. “You really don’t have—”

“Shut up,” he says, eyes softening when he meets your gaze. You wonder what you must look like, to him. “Er… just, sit and relax for a sec. I insist.”

You really do try to relax, once he leaves. You scroll through social media as Wooyoung whips up something simple. You shoot Yeosang a quick Wooyoung’s making me breakfast! ❣️ as you wait, to which you receive a bunch of silly looking stickers in return.

“It’s not contagious, is it?” Wooyoung asks a few moments later, carrying a delicious-smelling tray toward your bed.

You realize, then, that Yeosang must have been pretty discreet about what was ailing you in his conversation with Wooyoung. The thought of period cramps being contagious makes you suck in a giggle.

“I really hope not,” you scoff, and when Wooyoung furrows his brow, you explain, “it’s just cramps. I get them really bad.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widen a little. He sets the tray down next to you, and you take it in earnest. It’s a simple meal, just soup and rice and eggs, but somehow it smells amazing. “They’re bad enough that you can’t walk ?”

“It’s like that for a lot of people,” you explain.

Wooyoung only hums, taking a seat in Yeosang’s desk chair and swiveling it around and around. Apparently he's here to stay.

You take a few bites of your meal, letting your mind wander a little. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve spent the night at Yeosang’s place, but you still feel kind of awkward here when it’s just you and Wooyoung. You know they’ve known each other for years — much longer than you’ve known Yeosang — and the thought intimidates you. How many of Yeosang’s partners has Wooyoung known? How many crushes and hookups? Does Yeosang tell Wooyoung things about your relationship that you’re not privy to?

“He’s blowing up my phone, you know,” Wooyoung says suddenly. He turns his phone screen around, and sure enough, you see at least half a dozen messages from Yeosang loaded on his lockscreen. You can’t read them from here, but you can guess that they're about you.

“He doesn’t want me to show you,” Wooyoung continues, “but he’s really concerned. He cares about you a lot.”

You feel yourself flush. This shouldn’t surprise you, not when you’ve been seeing each other for three months already, but something about the earnestness of it all still makes you feel weak in the knees.

You opt not to respond to Wooyoung, focusing on your plate instead. You finish it dutifully, and Wooyoung is by your side in an instant, taking the tray in his hands before moving to leave Yeosang’s room.

“Thank you so much for cooking,” you tell him as he starts to walk away. "You really didn't have to."

“Mmhmm. You’re someone special to him, so,” Wooyoung mutters, just before he exits. You’re left wondering what he could possibly mean by that until sleep finds you again.

When you wake, it’s still morning. Abdominal pain slices you deeper, twisting into an amorphous form, vicious and unrelenting.

You shift, letting out an involuntary whine when you feel something damp pooling beneath you. Sure enough, there is a dark red puddle between your legs, staining Yeosang’s bed sheets. All at once, your body begins to shut down as the pain coils tighter and tighter, leaving you little room to breathe.

You let out a sob. It’s been a long, long time since your cramps have given you this much trouble. Of course it had to happen while you were alone at Yeosang’s apartment. You can already feel the shame and disgust twisting alongside the horrible feeling in your gut.

In a flash, Wooyoung is at the door, footsteps thundering down the hallway. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in your slumped form. He rushes to you, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, but your perception of things fades in and out. All you can think of is the sheets, the pool of blood still under your body, how fucking ashamed you are to make a mess of things, that you couldn’t take care of yourself better on your own—

Wooyoung shakes your arm hard, cutting through your panic like a blade.

“Do you need to go to the hospital!?” he shouts, crisp alertness palpable in his bright eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I, um, I don’t think—?”

“Like hell you don’t,” he scowls, grabbing his phone and starting to type out a text. You grab at his wrist, and he gives you a sharp, incredulous look.

“I’m fine, really,” you promise, doing your best to suppress your wince. “But…”

“But what, you’re clearly in pain!”

You let out a shaky breath. The words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can really think them over.

“Could you, maybe, ask for Yeosang to come home?” You suck in a breath, knowing that it’ll be hard to be so vulnerable in front of him but you don’t care — you need his comfort. “I know he’s busy at practice but I… really need him right now. Please.”

At that, Wooyoung seems to soften, pulling his hand softly from your grip. He nods, opening his phone and pulling up Yeosang’s contact. He dials Yeosang’s number, then puts his phone between his ear and his shoulder when Yeosang picks up on the first ring.

“How soon can you be back at the apartment?” Wooyoung asks. His tone seems firm, you think, but you wonder if there’s something else in it Yeosang can hear from him that you can’t. “Yeah, she’s in a lot of pain. I think she had a panic attack, too. Keeps asking for you.”

Wooyoung’s eyes flit over to yours. “He wants to talk to you,” he says, so you nod and take the phone.

“H-hi...”

“Baby,” Yeosang gasps, tight with concern.

Instantly, your eyes well with tears. You miss him. It’s only been a few hours since you were sleeping in his arms, even sooner since you’ve exchanged texts, but you can feel the ache deep in your chest all the same.

“Shhhh,” he coos, gentle as ever. “I’ll be home in fifteen. Will you be okay?”

You take in a small, hiccupping breath. “I… think so.”

“Good girl,” he says, and your heart flutters. You can hear something clicking in the background. “Do you want me to stay on the line until I’m back?”

“Please.”

“It’ll be okay ,” he promises, then breathes out your name in a way that makes your head tingle pleasantly. “Take some deep breaths with me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

You shake your head. “I ruined your sheets,” you tell him, your voice wobbling. “I’m so, so sorry, Yeo, but there’s so much blood, I don’t think it’ll come out—”

“Y/n,” he says, stern, halting your ramble in its tracks. "It’s fine, I promise. They can be replaced.”

“I just…” you shift, wincing again at the puddle between your thighs. “It feels so gross. I’m disgusting.”

“You’re not,” he assures you. “It’s a perfectly normal thing your body does. You just need to be taken care of.” You don’t agree with him — this is the most disgusting you’ve ever felt in ages — but your heart melts all the same.

You hadn’t noticed Wooyoung slipping out of the room, but he returns carrying a couple of towels that he puts down next to you. You scooch and roll over onto them, a little relieved to not be bleeding directly on the bed anymore. Wooyoung hovers by the door as Yeosang leads you through some deep breathing exercises over the phone. It takes a few minutes, but your heart rate is gradually slowing down.

"I’ll be right there, dear,” Yeosang tells you, your heart finally steady after what has to have been at least twenty rounds of box breathing. You hear his key twisting in the key hole a few moments later and then he’s bursting past Wooyoung and into his room, taking in the sight of you and enveloping you into his strong arms.

You think, though you’re too shy to admit it out loud, that he looks really handsome like this. Sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, dark hair swept back, his full attention on you. You feel your cheeks go pink as he tucks you into his sturdy chest.

He presses a kiss to your temple and just like that, your heart is racing again.

“My strong, beautiful girlfriend,” he murmurs. The sound of his deep voice so close to your ear makes you shudder. “So patient for me. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He sweeps one arm underneath your legs and you hesitantly circle your arms around his neck, trying your best to avoid your middle touching him too closely.

“Don’t wanna get blood on you,” you mumble into his shoulder.

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing the tip of your nose, and you allow yourself to believe him.

In moments, Yeosang has you sitting on a stool in the shower. Your bloody shorts have been discarded into the sink, along with the tank top you slept in. Ordinarily, you might’ve felt uncomfortable being so exposed and vulnerable in front of him while you’re not feeling 100%, but now, you just feel content.

When Yeosang pulls off his shirt and pants, leaving him only in a pair of black boxer briefs, you feel something thrum beneath your fingertips. Even after a handful of intimate nights together, you’re still surprised by his boldness, the way that he holds himself so confidently behind closed doors, just for you to see. You feel shy when Yeosang steps into the shower behind you, closing the curtain.

If the dried blood between your legs bothers Yeosang, he shows no indication. He just smiles at you warmly as he gets the water running, gently massaging your upper arms to keep you comfortable. Once the water gets warm enough, he sets you under the stream. The warm water feels delightful on your back, even more so when Yeosang runs a loofa under it and washes your body.

“You really don't have to do all of this,” you tell him, but one of his hands finds your elbow and stops you in your tracks.

“Let me help you,” Yeosang whispers, “please.”

You swallow. There’s something wanting in his eyes that you can’t quite put into words.

The loofa hesitantly brushes against the top of your knee, and you let go.

His touch, solid but gentle, finds you in your most tender spots. His fingers start at your thighs, scrubbing gently at the dried blood. Each time he touches you there is a question in his eyes, an is this okay? that you meet with unhesitant permission.

When his fingers brush the top of your stomach, inching nearer and nearer to your tender breasts, you gasp.

“Sorry,” he giggles, but you hold his hand against the swell of your breast, keeping him there. His slender fingers knead at them softly, leaning down to kiss you. It’s all lips and tongue, sensual and fluid, and when he sucks on your tongue it pulls a needy, involuntary noise from the back of your throat.

Yeosang is good at kissing. It almost embarrasses you when your toes curl from just a few seconds of making out — from experience, you know he’s barely even getting started — but you know how much he likes it when you’re vocal about how much you appreciate him.

“Yeosang,” you gasp, hoping even a fraction of what you feel gets expressed through your tone.

“Sorry,” he smiles against your lips. “Looks like I got a little carried away…”

You try not to feel disappointed when his focus returns back to washing your body. His hands are careful and practiced, putting firm pressure in all of the areas you need washed most. You sigh at the intimacy of it all, but your mind is still elsewhere.

“Something on your mind?” he asks a few moments later, and you shrug.

“I’m just so happy to have a boyfriend that’ll do this for me,” you gesture vaguely at yourself, “even when I’m all disgusting like this.”

You mean it as a joke, sort of, but you can tell he notices something in your words. His hand stills from where it’s been stroking your hip.

“You think you’re disgusting?” he frowns. He searches your eyes for a moment, and then he’s dropping to his knees in between your open legs.

On impulse, you close them.

“Yeosang,” you warn, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t.”

“Why not? Because it’s dirty?” He presses a kiss to the side of your knee, sending chills down your spine. “Baby, I won’t push you, but if you’re worried about me… it’s not like I care about a little blood on my fingers.”

Your eyes widen. Your throat suddenly feels very, very dry.

“I want you to feel cherished,” he whispers into a stretch mark on your thigh, gentle fingers inching closer to your core. “But only if you’ll let me.”

Somewhere in you, the tide shifts. You feel so, so stupid for not remembering it sooner. The love he feels for you is real , even if it’s incomprehensible to you. The realization churns something deep in your gut, stoking the flames from a few moments ago.

“So,” he whispers, soft lips into your wet skin, “what will it be?”

You want him bad, period cramps be damned.

“Please,” you whine, and then he’s surging forward in another kiss.

The kiss is softer this time, almost chaste, making good on his promise to cherish you. His hands, though, are roaming your body in earnest, settling to draw comforting circles against your waist.

He pulls away from the kiss. “Tell me how you want me, baby.”

You shudder at the loss of contact. As much as you want all of him, having sex on your period is new territory for you. And he mentioned not minding blood on his fingers, so…

“Just your fingers,” you tell him. Then, sheepishly, you add: “I love your hands…”

Pleased with your directness, Yeosang kisses the tip of your nose, soft and innocent, before moving his lips down the expanse of your body. You grip lightly at the base of his head when his tongue twists around your nipple. He replaces it with his fingers as he dips deeper, pressing heated kisses down your tummy, to your pubic bone, until finally he’s at the apex of your thighs.

“Love this pussy so much,” he murmurs into the plush of your thigh. When his fingers find your clit, rubbing against it gently, your eyes roll back. “So beautiful, so perfect. Made for me.”

“Yeosang,” you gasp, but it quickly turns into a moan as his fingers find a quicker, pulsing rhythm.

Your body contorts to meet his fingers, but he moves a steadying hand to your hip. His strength, his unabashed adoration of your body, the practiced ministrations against your core — it’s all so incredibly hot that your brain simply can’t keep up.

“Mmm?” he intones, pressing a light kiss dangerously close to your slit that has you keening. “Did you need something, baby?”

“Close,” you admit, too engulfed in the pleasure to be embarrassed at how quickly you’ve begun to feel that tight, coiling feeling in your gut.

Your admission has Yeosang incredibly pleased, a grin stretching across his handsome face.

“Already, baby?” he asks, and you feel yourself burn up at how unbelievably attracted to him you feel right now. “You poor thing, all pent up like that. Must’ve needed me so badly.”

You let out a little whine at Yeosang’s words. You really did need him, didn’t you? All of today, it was him you craved. He knows you so well, so intimately…

“It was a good thing I could come home early, hmm? Take care of you just the way you like.”

You whine louder when he draws tight, concentrated circles against your clit, his other hand holding you still even as you try to meet his thrusts.

“Can you come for me, sweetheart? Want to hear your pretty little voice moaning my name.”

The tension snaps all at once, your orgasm crashing into you with reckless abandon as your body folds into itself. But Yeosang doesn’t stop, just pumps you gently through it as you dutifully let out a cry of his name.

Moments pass, and you’re still twitching from the aftershocks when Yeosang gets up to turn the water off. He’s covering you with a towel before you can process how cold you are. Once you’re dry and warm, he presses a single kiss on your forehead softly before helping you back onto your feet.

“That was really nice,” you tell him, a little shy despite yourself.

He smiles warmly. “I’m glad, baby. I hope you feel a little better.”

“A lot better,” you agree.

He helps you into a new set of clothes, and you smile as he squeezes lightly at your curves.

Just as you’re both about to exit, he hums exaggeratedly. “Though you did cum kind of fast, didn’t you?”

You swat at his shoulder, his laughter ringing in the open air.

That night finds you in Yeosang’s bed again, this time with fresh sheets. You sit snugly with your back against his chest, his arms enveloping you as you watch a movie on his laptop.

Every few minutes, he’ll whisper something in your ear. Sometimes it’s affectionate, about how strong he knows you are for him, how proud he is of you. Sometimes it’s a little snide comment about the characters in the film. The intimacy leaves you with a warm, light feeling in your stomach, as if you’re getting butterflies for him all over again.

At some point, though, the tide shifts back. Your insecurities won’t leave you forever, even with the most loving boyfriend in the world. Your period isn’t making it any easier, either; you’ve always been a hell of a lot more emotional on your heaviest days.

At the first sign of tears, Yeosang spins you around and embraces you against his soft chest.

“I stay the night,” you choke out between sobs, “and I ruin your bedsheets. I basically make a murder scene in your bathroom. Your roommate cooks for me and all I do is freak him out and beg him not to take me to the hospital. I made you leave your class early , Yeosang, all I do is—”

“Make my life better,” he finishes, halting your words. You meet his eyes, and they’re brimming with nothing but earnest adoration. “All you’ve done is make my life better, ever since we met.”

You sniffle. “Even when I’m like this?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you, as often as you need.”

And with a look into his deep, earnest eyes, you decide you can believe him.

#kang yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #yeosang fic #yeosang smut #hehetmongi writes

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partially-controlled-chaos · 8 months ago

Text

New Life Shall Prosper, ch. 2

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (as gender neutral as possible, given the context)

Rating: T? (not really smut but there's some heavily implied in previous chapters. pregnancy related bits, tad bit of gore)

Warnings: There's not full blown smut but it borders on the edge, mentions of illness and pregnancy, mostly just fluff

Summary: Months after the fall of the Absolute, you and Halsin have carved a happy life for yourselves within Thaniel's Realm, making a safe haven for all. A life full of hope and prosperity, only enhanced once you discover the very real possibility that you are with child.

Word Count: 11.5K

an: This ended up taking so long because it went through three rewrites and it's still massive. BUT I did finally get it posted. There will be one more chapter, possibly two with how I shifted some things, but there's at least one more coming! Thankfully, because I did rewrite and move some things around, about half of the next chapter is already written. Mostly proofread, but I was tired when I posted this so I'll update it later for any mistakes. Thank you to everyone that has enjoyed this so far!!

Follow up to this post.

Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Find chapter 1 here! Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Masterlist

Loving, tender kisses peppering your exposed shoulder and a heavy dip in the bed roused you from your slumber. Slowly, your eyes blinked open as they adjusted to the light, your vision blurry until you could make sense of your surroundings. You recognized the lumbering shape of your beloved druid. With a content smile on his lips, Halsin loomed over you; his arms supporting his weight above your head as his knees dug into the bed by your hip, causing your body to slightly slope downward.

“Good morning, my heart,” he said softly, “how did you sleep?”

“Fine, but I would do better if you would let me sleep a bit longer, love.” You said groggily as you turned your face from the beaming sun. You heard Halsin chuckle as he littered more slow kisses to your cheek.

“As much as I would love to, dear heart, I’m only doing what you asked of me.” You groaned as you buried your face to your pillow, his comment jogging your memory from the night before as he slid from atop you. Since your discovery that you were with child, you’d noticed significant changes to your energy levels. Being one to typically rise early, you’d found yourself sleeping in later each morning and desiring a nap around mid afternoon. Not that you wouldn’t mind to sleep in every once in a while, it just wasn’t suitable to your current lifestyle. You and Halsin were both early to rise and late to bed, filling your day with growing and expanding the area you now called home. Plants needed harvesting, home needed building, children needed enrichment and growth, and all of it simply couldn’t be done if you slept half the day away.

So, to counteract your sudden inability to wake up at a decent hour, you had practically begged Halsin to wake you in the mornings if you were still asleep when he returned from his daily patrols. He reluctantly agreed, wanting you to rest in accordance to what your body wanted, citing that you should be listening to the call of nature and not the call of a city. When you had finally convinced him, you made him promise that he would make sure you would rise and not go back to sleep, something you could kick yourself for now that the moment had come.

“Come on, my love,” he said as he pulled the blankets from your body and exposed you to the cool air of the room, “there’s much to do today and I made a promise.” With a groan of false annoyance, you rubbed your eyes and finally sat up. Halsin stretched out along side you, effectively taking up as much of the bed as he could to dissuade you from crawling back in. His head rested on a closed fist, sitting up partially to still make conversation.

“And what business do we have planned for today that requires such an early start?” You asked as you draped your legs over the edge of the bed, your arms stretching high above your head with interlocked fingers as your back arched forward. When you were done, you glanced over to Halsin after not hearing a response and you found him gazing at you. His eyes slowly traced along your body, a tender smile across his face the lower his eyes traveled.

“Or did you have something else in mind?” You asked in a low voice as you reclined back as best you could, given that the bulk of his frame was in the way.

“With you? Always,” Halsin said with a smirk before offering you an affectionate kiss to the lips, “but there are some matters that require our attention.” His smile had faded by the time the final words left his mouth and his face had lost its softness. It seemed that his need to wake you stretched beyond your request for a wake up call.

“Is something wrong?” You asked as you straightened again. The change in his demeanor was enough cause for concern for your to snap out of your groggy state of mind. Since the fall of the Absolute, there had been very few times that you’d seen Halsin return to his duty driven mindset and he was teetering dangerously close to that precipice. Something was gnawing at his mind, although you weren’t sure what.

“Not quite, but there’s potential. It’s… it’s better if I just show you. Let’s take a walk when you’re dressed.” With a slight degree of hesitation, you made your way to your feet and began to dress. With a lingering yawn you tugged on your small clothes to cover yourself a bit more as you toyed with your hair, trying to your best to brush away the evidence of sleep. You smiled to yourself as you noticed Halsin watching your every step, his admiration for you never faltering even if you did the most mundane of tasks. He looked as if he was lost in a daze; his expression was no more than a lazy smile and half-lidded eyes.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” you said as you caught his gaze, “you’re going to have to do something about it.” With a hearty laugh and a quick shake of his head, the druid sat up from the bed, his eyes still glued to your body.

“Although you are the epitome of nature perfected, my heart, you’re not picking up on what I am.” You raised an eyebrow, your head cocking at the comment.

“And what would that be?” You asked softly. Without another word, he made his way to his feet, offering his hand for you to take with a knowing smile.

He guided you to the standing mirror by the water basin, turning you until your back was pressed to his chest and you both were reflected in the glass. You watched the reflection as his head leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses to your still bare shoulder as his hands traveled the length of your body, stopping along your waist. You felt his hands lightly grip your hips, angling them forward until he had you in the perfect position. When his hand left your hip and slowly caressed the skin under your navel, you finally realized what Halsin was so transfixed on observing. There, in the reflection of your mirror, you noticed the slightest of swells to your lower belly. It wasn’t a large bump, but nevertheless it was the smallest of bumps beginning to form. After weeks of seeing no progress, you were now staring at the reflection of a pregnant belly.

“Hells, I hadn’t even noticed,” you said softly as you turned your reflection in the mirror to make sure you saw what you thought you did, “and when did you make this discovery, dear bear?” Your eyes were stuck to your reflection, wholeheartedly admiring the tiny bulge of your lower belly. Although you were still early on in your pregnancy, just seeing the evidence of your growing child filled you with an immense sense of joy and almost disbelief. Until now, the idea of being with child didn’t seem real. Other than a bit of morning sickness and being a bit more tired than normal, at times you forgot you were carrying a child. But now, with the proof of one in front of your eyes, it felt more than real.

“Last night,” he whispered in your ear, “after your bath.” You hummed softly as the memory of the previous night flickered in your mind. You had just barely stepped from your bath before you had felt Halsin’s lips and hands caressing your skin and curves, ravishing you until you both needed another washing.

“Well, then,” you said playfully, “that explains your sudden urge last night.” Halsin said nothing, but the low growl and gentle bite to your earlobe confirmed your statement.

After lingering a few moments more to admire the growing bump to your frame, Halsin’s hands left your hips and left you to finish dressing for the day. You said nothing to each other as you hoisted up a pair of trousers and clean shirt, however the silence between you was not strained. Something was on Halsin’s mind, but whatever it was, was not directed towards you. When you had finished dressing and signaled you were ready to go, you were met with the same loving gaze and tender touches. This set your mind a little more at ease even though you were still curious as to what had gotten the druid so tense. It must be something in the community, perhaps the sense of duty, or maybe an issue with one of the refugees. Either way, you were determined to help him through it and set him at east once again.

You walked through your home together, hand in hand, and walked at a pace that wasn’t quite a stroll, but also wasn’t hurried. It had been a while since you had walked the city together, usually preferring to go your own ways and meeting again at the end of the day, so you quite enjoyed the change of schedule. Halsin’s large hand engulfed your own, holding it securely and offering a sense of peace and protection. You eventually made your way to the opposite side of the town, stepping from the cobblestone streets and into the beginning of the wood line.

“Where are we going? I thought we had business in town?” You asked as you continued your stroll, making note of the slightly firmer grasp that he now had on your hand.

“Business, yes, but it’s out in the forest on the outskirts of the town.” Halsin’s vague answers made your shoulders tense. You were not opposed to surprised, but you felt that this one would most certainly be unwelcome.

“Care to enlighten me? You’re not one to keep secrets, my dear.” You nudged Halsin with your shoulder as you walked, hoping it would make him open up and no longer keep you in the dark. You were impatient, wanting only to see what he was leading you to.

“I promise, it’ll be easier if I just show you, just be patient. We’re close now though, as much as it pains me to say it.” You picked up on the slightest hint of dread in his voice, the droop on his face only confirming your observation.

Admittedly, you had been utterly confused by Halsin, not understanding his sudden hesitancy to explain anything. He was always open with you, even with the most grueling of topics, and you were thankful for that. Both because you appreciated being in the loop of knowledge, but also because you didn’t want him to share the brunt of responsibility alone. He had done that enough in the past and it was high time he was able to share his burdens. Before the fall of Ketheric Thorm, you had made a promise to Halsin to help him through any hardships and even though it had been some time since you’d defeated Ketheric, your promise still stood. It always would. It was your vow to him and you were determined to uphold it.

After some time, you both had made your way to a small clearing on the outskirts of your established community on the line where your home met untamed wilderness. With your hand still firmly in his grasp, Halsin took you to one of the first trees along the tree line, walking you to the backside. There, just above your line of sight, was a symbol meticulously carved into the bark. A skull seated partially in a triangle, the outstretched fingers of a hand adorning it like a crown. You recognized the symbol immediately and a familiar twinge of unease settled in your stomach and your breath caught in your throat. Months after the battle, you were staring at the freshly carved symbol of the Absolute.

“I noticed it yesterday when I was roaming,” Halsin’s voice broke the silence and the tension of the moment, “a defilement of nature and a perfectly good scratching post.”

“By the gods.” You whispered softly as your eyes spotted the marking on the tree. You reached out slowly, your fingertips barely grazing the carved symbol in the tree, almost afraid that it would hurt you in some way.

“You’re certain this is new? This isn’t a remnant of a few months ago?” You knew the answer, but still felt the need to ask. It was a fresh, clean mark; something that had only happened in the past day or so. But, there was one small part of you that hoped and prayed it was a relic from all those months ago.

“Oh, very.” He said as he traced his finger along the carving, “Look at the flesh of the tree. It’s still weeping sap and the cut hasn’t yet browned. It’s recent, my heart.”

Your breathing was slow and methodical, an attempt to keep your rising fears at arms length. For a brief moment the idea crossed your mind that somehow the Netherbrain had survived the final battle and was once again enchanting mind flayer tadpoles, but you were certain this wasn’t true. The Netherstones had done their job of convincing the brain to destroy itself and there was no denying that the same brain that had sunk into waters surrounding the city was anything other than dead.

You then remembered the dying man and his siblings you had met on the road very early on in your journey. The man had been infected with the parasite, but his siblings remained free from a worm of their own crawling in their brains. However, they still followed the teachings and the call of the Absolute, despite not being True Souls themselves. You quickly realized that this mark wasn’t left by someone infected with the tadpole, but by someone who still believed in the Absolute. Someone who believed in the teachings and the power it offered enough to begin a resurgence of the cult, even if there were no tadpoles. The idea wasn’t that far fetched. You knew of plenty of instances where cults or even important figures that had fanatics that carried on the legacy of the entity. The most notable one that could come to mind were the handful of people that served the Szarr palace in the hopes of serving a vampiric lord simply because they were enthralled by him.

“I don’t think it’s cause for concern just yet, although we must be vigilant.” He said as he pulled is hand from the bark, “I roamed the woods the entirety of yesterday as well as this morning. This is the only symbol I can find and I haven’t found anyone lingering. Whoever left it, left it as a warning, but is gone from the area.”

“You don’t think it could be someone in town, do you?” You asked after you’d worked your way through your thoughts.

“It’s possible, but highly unlikely. You know them better than I do, so you must know how everyone feels about the Absolute. These are children and adults who lost their homes and had their lives uprooted because of this cult, I don’t believe anyone would be a follower. Unless you think otherwise?”

“No, not at all,” you said as you continued to observe the marking, “but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. As you said, remain vigilant. Let’s see what comes of this.”

“I sent out a scouting party late in the afternoon. They plan on looking further into the forest and beyond to see if they can pick up on any trail. I would go myself, but if there is no pressing need for me to go out then I would prefer to stay here. I have many people I want to protect.” He lightly pressed his hand to your newly discovered bump, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

With another brief look to the symbol, you were ready to leave and return to the safety of your home. You understood why Halsin would always patrol the community and the surrounding area each morning, but you never thought anything would ever come of it. Maybe it was the lull of a peaceful home or perhaps you had just gone soft after the final battle, but this new discovery had caught you off guard. Any sort of resurgence of the cult could lead to disastrous consequences and it threatened the safety of your very home. There were already so many men and women that had been lost and displaced, not to mention the dozen upon dozens of orphaned children you were now in charge of, and the thought that they could face it all again made a shiver run down your spine. To top it off, you were now welcoming your own little one into the world; a world you assumed was safe.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said as you began the long walk home, “I’m not sure what to make of it, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“Don’t let it burden your mind and unsettle your nerves, my heart,” Halsin said as he reclaimed your hand with his, “our home is safe.” You pulled Halsin’s arm around you as you walked, allowing his hand to rest on your lower back as you leaned into his frame. He was right, for the time being your home and community were safe, and you felt even safer being wrapped in his embrace.

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It had been many weeks since your discovering of the carving in the woods and thankfully everything remained quiet. Life carried on as it had been and you frequently tucked the memory into the far recesses of your mind. You sat cross-legged on your bed, the back of Halsin’s hand rested on your rounded belly as you carefully plucked splinter after splinter from his fingertips. You gently traced your fingers over his, feeling for any more pieces of wood stuck under his skin. Although he was already a skilled whittler, Halsin had recently taken up woodworking. It was a hobby you found to be surprising, but when you learned he desired to master the craft simply because he wanted to hand carve a crib for your little one, you couldn’t be happier. Since then, you always made it a point to pluck any pieces of wood from his fingers.

The partially completed crib sat against the wall of your bedroom, still needing a few finishing touches before it ready for a sleeping baby, but there was still time before it would be needed. Despite needing a bit of sanding and polishing, the crib was absolutely beautiful and incredibly detailed. It taken him a few weeks, but in that short time he had crafted the piece completely by hand and with copious amounts of love. He had even gone so far as to carve the smallest of details along the head of the crib; a parade of carved bear cubs wandering through the beauty of nature and swirls that mimicked the patterns of his tattoos adorned the wood panelling.

With a final look over his hands, you had decided that you’d pulled out any remaining fragments of wood, lifting his large hand from your belly. You held your palm against Halsin’s, taking note in the difference in size. His hands engulfed yours, two of his knuckles easily able to overshadow your fingertips if he were to bend them. Your eyes traveled from his hands and along his arms, observing just how large they actually were and how they seemingly continued to grow at they reached his broad shoulders. You laced your fingers with his as you continued to look him over, not noticing the adoring look on Halsin’s face in the process.

“Is something troubling you, my heart?” He asked as he brought your hand to his lips, softly kissing your fingers.

“Not at all,” you said as his voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you shifted to your regular spot on the bed, “just doing a bit of thinking.” You adjusted the pillows under your head until you were comfortable on your side. With a gentle pat, you motioned for Halsin to join you.

“Do tell, my heart.” He followed your invitation, reclining on his side as well, positioning his head against his hand as he gazed down at you. Gods, you would never tire of the way he looked at you. His gaze was always filled with the utmost admiration and infatuation, which had only increased in the recent months.

“You are rather large for an elf, you know.” You brought your hand to your head, mirroring Halsin’s pose as you spoke.

“Is that so?” Halsin cocked an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his lips at your comment.

“Oh hush, love,” you said with a chuckle, “you know I mean no harm. It just has me wondering about this dear little one of ours.” You ran your hand along the side of your belly with the thought, still in disbelief that you would be having a child in a few months.

“Are you afraid our child might be taller than you one day?” He teased, placing his hand atop yours, seemingly sensing the worry gnawing at your mind.

“Not at all, but I am worried about having to somehow birth a baby the size of quasit if they end up taking after your size.” You chuckled softly, although the thought was seriously lingering in your mind. Elves and half-elves were typically small in build, but Halsin was of course no normal elf. Simply comparing the size of his hands to yours indicated just how big he truly was. So it was very well in the realm of possibility that your newborn would be well above average in size.

“I don’t think they’ll be quite that large my heart,” Halsin said as he ran his thumb along your cheekbone, “but even if they are, I’ll be there for you. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” You whispered. Despite facing the end of the world, the idea of childbirth terrified you. You knew the risks associated with the birthing process and it was a daunting prospect. Healing couldn’t be offered until after the actual birth, so knowing you’d have to endure the hours long process without aid unsettled you.

“Will you be there?” You asked after a moment. You knew it was a dumb question; Halsin wouldn’t dare the miss the birth of his first child or leave you to deal with the trauma of birth alone, but with your hormones fluctuating the way they did, it was nice to have the confirmation.

“Of course, my heart. It’s not even a question.” He quickly kissed your lips in reassurance, “Put your mind at ease. I will be there for the entirety and afterwards.”

Halsin pulled you towards him, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head, kissing it softly. In turn, you rested your face across the expanse of his chest, taking in his natural warmth and scent as you felt his hand slowly run along your back, soothing your worry. You hummed as you melted against his touch, your muscles finally relaxing after a long day.

“Have you heard anything about the symbols you found?” You asked after a long yawn, the desire for sleep finally catching up to you.

“Last I heard,” Halsin said after a long period of silence, as if he was hesitant to say anything, “there was a small group of followers to the north. Goblins, mostly. And a few orcs if what the scouts have said can be relied upon. Don’t let it bother you tonight, my heart. It can be discussed in the morning.” With your eyes suddenly heavy, you didn’t argue his plea.

Given that it had been many moons since you first discovered the markings on the tree, you weren’t too concerned with the lingering cultists being an immediate threat, but it still crossed your mind frequently. Between the ministrations along your back and sound of Halsin’s steady heartbeat against your ear, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, securely nestled in the embrace of Halsin’s strong arms.

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“It’s a good thing I’m better a wielding a sword than I am a knitting needle,” you said as you observed your work, “otherwise we’d all be mind flayers by now.” You held up the infant sized sweater you’d spent an hour knitting, your nose scrunching in distain when you realized not only was it far too big for a newborn, but lopsided with different lengths on the sleeves and a warbled neckline.

“Well,” Halsin said with a chuckle as he looked up from his whittling, “let us give thanks that nature has blessed you with other talents.” Although he had already finished the beautifully crafted crib, his whittling hobby had picked up even more now that you were close to your due date. Small ducklings, bear cubs, tiny bunnies, and even squirrel kits were all figures he had started carving, the idea of having a child of his own clearly influencing his design choices. Lately, many quiet afternoons were spent like this, with you and your beloved elf taking much needed downtime together, happily preparing for the arrival of your little one.

“I’m sorry,” you said with feigned hurt, “but are you telling me that this isn’t the beauty of natures creation?” You saw his attempt to hide the smirk threatening to come across his face as he eyed your knitting once more, chewing on the side of his lip to keep it from rising.

“I would, but you made it, my heart, not nature.” You snorted and playfully knocked Halsin’s arm with yours before unraveling your hard work in an attempt to remake it.

The two of you were lounging in the center of town, reclined against the large oak that had miraculously been renewed with life when the shadow curse had been lifted. You leaned against one of Halsin’s large arms more than the tree, trying to find some relief for your aching back. If your calculations were correct, you still had roughly two months left before you were set to give birth, but you were heavily struggling with the physical toll it took on your body. Your back frequently ached and pain would settle in your hips, making sitting anywhere absolutely abysmal, not to mention trying to get up by yourself.

Despite this, you could never say you were too burdened with your condition. Halsin always went out of his way to make sure you were as comfortable as possible, which always filled you with a sense of adoration and love. He was always quick to offer a soothing back rub if your muscles were tense from a long day or if the pressure from your growing little one made your bones ache, making sure to massage deeply and slowly until you melted under his touch. Or if you were overtaken by a sudden craving for a particular food, he would be sure to bring you whatever you desired to your hearts content. He would frequently soothe your emotions if you were overcome with confusing hormones, being by your side until you worked through whatever was plaguing you and would stay until he could see you smile again.

In all of this, his desire for you never faltered; if anything, it was stronger than ever. It wasn’t always sexual, however. His desire to just be close to you only grew stronger the more your abdomen grew. Gentle touches across your back, arms touching when sitting together during supper, holding you snugly against his body while you slept; anything to stay close to you. The same sentiment held true even in ursine form, of course. You frequently found yourself sitting beneath a tree or in a sunny field with the head of your bear placed gently in your lap during a midday nap or felt a wet nose nuzzling against your swollen belly.

Not to say that his more intimate desires for you wavered in the slightest. It was hard enough for you to keep your hands off each other before the discovery of your pregnancy, but had only intensified since. Many nights were spent in each others embrace and were filled with soft kisses and playful bites. Each time was always gentle and seemed to feel more loving than the last. In every aspected you could imagine, Halsin was the perfect partner; not that you had imagined any less from him. The love you had for him had only intensified in the recent months and you could see the same sentiment reflected from him each time you caught him staring at you. His eyes always filled with softness and love, something that made your heart melt on a daily basis.

A shift in placement of your baby made you grunt, your side now aching with the pressure of some appendage now pressing into your ribcage. You sat up from your position against the druid, leaning forward and side to side to try and stop the pain. As much as you loved the feeling of the tiny bits of movement here and there, you couldn’t help but groan whenever the child landed in a particularly inconvenient spot. Occasionally you’d feel a kick here and there, but you mostly just felt the entire body of your child moving in your abdomen. Despite being near you constantly, Halsin had yet to feel a kick or a bit of movement from your belly. It always seemed to stop when he placed a hand on your stomach to feel for movement. You felt them, of course, but wished Halsin could do the same.

“Is everything all right?” Halsin asked as he noticed your movements. He placed his whittling knife and piece he’d been working on to the side, turning more towards you in the process. His large hand slowly worked its way up and down your back, trying to rub out any knot or muscle tension.

“Oh yes,” you said with a sharp inhale, “I just feel as if I have a foot in my ribs. Right in here.” You took his hand in yours, sliding it from your back to the side of your belly where the pain was, hoping he would finally have his change to feel the baby move. His thumb lightly caressed your stomach in an attempt to encourage the tiny little foot to move.

“Well, given the circumstance, I’d wager and say you probably do.” He said with a laugh. As the discomfort in your side finally subsided, you found yourself reclining on your hands with your legs extended in front of you. The change of position seemed to move your little one just enough to alleviate the discomfort and you finally had a moment of relaxation. Your head fell back and lightly brushed against the trunk of the tree, your eyes closing as you felt a gentle breeze across your face.

Halsin’s hand remained on your belly, gently running it along the side and around the front until it eventually settled on top. With a deep sigh you finally opened your eyes, your head rolling to the side to meet Halsin’s gaze. However, instead of meeting your eyes, his own were fixed to his hand atop your stomach, a grin spreading across his lips the more he lingered, but there was the faintest hint of something else in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” You asked softly as you took in his expression. He was lost in thought, his mind drifting as you both sat in the coolness of the shade and you returned to your former position. Your hand rested atop his for a moment before sliding up his forearm and back down, the ministrations finally grabbing his attention from his deep concentration.

“Everything,” Halsin said after a long pause, “as always. But I have to admit that as of late I find myself worrying about you, mostly, my heart.”

“How do I worry you? Is it the baby?” You asked, surprised at his answer, “Please, tell me. Let me ease your mind. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me.”

“Well, partially it’s the child. In my many years I’ve seen countless others give birth and I’m aware of the risks. I know the dangers child bearing can bring and leave in its aftermath. So I have my concerns in relation to that, but most of my concerns lay outside of that.” His palm light trailed across the expanse of your belly; his touch soft and loving.

“Tell me, then, please.” You lightly brushed a few stray strands of hair from his face, tucking them behind a pointed ear.

“We’ve discussed this before, but I have to ask,” he paused as he spoke, that rare look of vulnerability flashing across his face as he tried to form his words, “are you happy? Truly happy? With everything that’s come after the Netherbrain, I mean. Can you say for certain that you are satisfied and content with the life we’ve built here?”

“Halsin, my love, I couldn’t have dreamed of a happier life.” The hand that had brushed through his hair came down his neck and finally rested on his chest, directly above his heart. “Why would you even need to ask such a question?”

“To ease my mind, I suppose. I pulled you from a life of praise and newfound opulence that came from saving Baldur’s Gate only to thrust you into a life of quiet, often thankless, servitude. I just want to be certain that this life is something you want and not something I’ve forced you into; especially now that you are so close to having a child. I don’t want you to have regrets.” He spoke quietly but surely.

“I don’t want or need the praise and wealth the city offered. You, though? You I need. And I can’t go without you for even a second. I chose to leave with you to build a life here because that’s what I wanted. We both did. You didn’t force me into anything. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, I had to practically beg to convince you that it’s what I wanted, did I not?”

“Oh yes,” he said with a slight smile, “I believe I recall you calling me an ass.”

“I was terrified of you turning me away!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, “You can’t blame me for my words when I wanted nothing more than to follow you and be by your side. And to this day there is nothing I want more. I would choose this life we’ve built and I would choose you again and again.”

You leaned forward slightly, trailing your hand back up along his neck and chest until it rested on his cheek, gently pulling his head towards you until your foreheads met in a gentle caress. You’d come to adore your frequent forehead touches with the elf, almost enjoying them more than a kiss in a moment like this. It was a simple, intimate gesture that brought the both of you so much comfort in moments of insecurity and uncertainty.

“And I would do this all over again in every lifetime, my love. In every possible form we may find ourselves in. All without an ounce of hesitation or regret. And now that we’re having a child? My dearest love, my heart is full. We have built something truly wonderful not only in this community we call home, but something wonderful and beautiful in this tiny little child we’ve created.” You lingered against his skin for a moment more before finally pulling away, your hand still cupping his cheek as you spoke again.

“Halsin, please, don’t every worry that you’ve taken me from something. In reality, you have given me the greatest gift possible. Release those fears from your mind. They hold no weight here.” You whispered softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his tattooed cheek.

“You truly are a gift from Silvanus himself, my heart. You’ve brought back the youthful optimism and stamina of this old, pardon…older druid, my heart.” You smirked at his attempt to remember your distain for referring to himself as old, appreciating the effort.

“Trust me love, if my condition is any indication of how spry you are, I’d say you have the vigor of someone just barely over a hundred.” You said as you began to recline back again. Not satisfied with your quick contact from earlier, he gently took your chin in his grasp and pulled you to him until your lips softly connected. A string of slow, soft kisses soon followed, along with praises coming from each of you after each brush of your lips.

Shouting from across the town square broke the serenity of the moment. You and Halsin both turned in the direction of the commotion, instincts immediately springing into action at the sound. Screams of terror and anger could be heard behind you, steadily growing louder. You were still struggling to even begin to get up when Halsin told you to stay where you were; a command more than a request. Before you had time to argue, Halsin had rushed the the cause of commotion, leaving you on the ground struggling to stand.

“Gods above.” You muttered to yourself as you finally managed to get to your feet, using the tree as support in the process. As quickly but as carefully as you could as to avoid disrupting your little one, you hurried to the sound of the commotion, despite Halsin’s request fo you to stay put.

You had gotten to the town square just in time to see what the commotion was. The freshly deceased body of a war painted goblin was splayed along the ground, its throat having been quickly sliced apart by the enraged cave bear looming over the corpse. You immediately knew the bear to be Halsin, who had no doubt changed at the first sight of the attacking goblin. Two other goblins had accompanied the deceased one, but had quickly turned tail in fear at the emergence of the bear. Not to the surprise of anyone in the community, Halsin quickly chased after them, releasing a roar loud and deep enough that you could feel the reverberations in your body. He would no doubt make quick work of the intruders, giving you the chance to ensure there were no other lingering goblins or nasties before checking in on any potential injuries.

With your hand placed on the underside of your belly for support, you squatted next to the slain goblin, taking note of the silver pendant hanging around its neck. You felt a cold chill run down your spine when you saw the symbol of the Absolute within the safety of your home. Anger surged within you as well, cruising yourself for not handling this problem sooner. Thank the gods that no one was injured, other than the goblin, but the experience was enough to shake everyone. Thaniel’s Realm was meant to be a sanctuary for the lost and lonely, safe from threats of any kind and a place to live in harmony with nature. Now, however, that safety had been shattered and danger was no longer a looming threat, but a real and bloody reality.

You spent the rest of the afternoon checking in with everyone, ensuring their safety and checking for wounds. The children of the realm were shaken by the events of the day, but they were resilient. They had faced too many hardships and dangers with the threat of a mind flayer invasion and Netherbrain control for them to be running from a handful of goblins, but you wanted to be there to lend a hand to hold and a lap to sit on if needed. The nightly supper and bedtime stories for the children continued as usual once the remnants of the mutilated goblin had been cleared away, the usual nightly feel of home returning once everyone had a full belly. You walked home quietly, your mind racing with the events of the day and your emotions high strung. With a grunt of effort you sat on the few steps that led to entrance of your home. You sat in silence, absentmindedly running your hands along the expanse of your stomach as you waited for your druid to return.

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

It was well past nightfall by the time Halsin finally returned home to you, bloodied and still in bear form. Even though you were certain would never harm you while in wild shape, there was no denying just how intimidating his form was. His snout was absolutely drenched in goblin blood, splatter even reaching to the top of his head, and you could feel the hot pants of his breath against your legs as he approached. There was the faintest glow still present in his eyes, making it very clear that he was still deeply angry about the situation at hand. The low growls emitting from his chest could be felt in your bones as you gently reached out to place a hand on the underside of his chin. You could feel his pulse begin to return to normal as your fingers brushed against his pulse point, despite the thick layer of fur between his skin and your fingers.

“Come along love,” you said to your bear softly, “let’s get you cleaned up.” His sharp claws were also covered in blood, bits of flesh and cloth dangling from a few of them. Given the sight of him, you didn’t want to imagine what was left of the goblins that had stormed your home, if there even remains at all. Either way, Halsin was drenched in assorted viscera and could do for a warm bath; both to clean and to soothe.

Once you pulled your hand from his chin, the bear erupted in a familiar flash of light, ending the wild shape of the bear and transfiguring Halsin back to an elf, who was just as bloody as the bear. He was still breathing heavily after the transformation, remaining silent as he rolled his neck and shoulders and shook out any remaining feelings of the bear. He closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself a calming breath before look back to you, his gaze much softer but no less expressive. Despite the intense rage you had witness earlier, he was as gentle as ever with you. With a soft touch, he helped you to your feet before quickly looking over you, checking for injuries. After reassuring Halsin that you and your child were fine, you led him inside and drew him a warm bath.

Once he had seated himself in the water of the washtub, he began to calm and relax more, the temperature of the water helping to ease any remaining tension in his muscles. After he had seemed to cool off a bit, you set to work. With a soft cloth and a gentle touch, you began washing the dark blood from his face. Starting with his forehead and working your way down, you worked quietly, not sure of what to say to ease his mind more. With each wipe of his face, you dunked the soft cloth back into the water to rinse it before returning to his skin. When you wiped away the last of the blood from his chin, he finally spoke.

“We cannot afford to sit idly anymore.” He said as you shifted your attention to the rest of his body, wiping along his chest and down his arms meticulously.

“No,” you murmured as you checked for wounds along his shoulders and arms, “we can’t. We can head out in the morning? The next day perhaps? Figure out where the group is, how strong they are, look at the defenses-” Your speech was quickly cut off before you could finish your thought.

“We? I hope you’re not suggesting that you come along as well.” His brows knitted together at your response, utterly bewildered that you would even suggest such a thing.

“Of course I am,” you said quickly, “I can’t sit at home and twiddle my thumbs and expect you to handle it all. I told you when we first came here that we share the responsibility of our home. It’s not your burden to bear alone, Halsin.”

“And you have done an absolutely beautiful job of doing so, my love, but you must stay here.” His hands lifted from the tinted water, reaching out to cup your cheeks with his palms. He looked you in the eyes, holding a stern gaze with you.

“The people here can survive without us for a few days. They’re not completely helpless. They already do most of the cooking and running of the market and the children will be fine under their watch.” You tossed the cloth into the water, standing in the process. Now was not the time for arguing; it was the time for action. Your home had just been invaded and arguing over who should go and when was irrelevant in your eyes. You were both more than capable of dispatching goblins. You pulled a towel down from a nearby shelf after hearing Halsin hastily step out of the water, patting him dry as you checked his lower body for injuries as well.

“Yes, they can. They are prospering beyond what either of us could have imagined and in such a short time. And we are prospering ourselves,” he softly placed a hand on the peak of your belly, “and we cannot risk losing this blessing.”

“I can take care of myself,” you scoffed at the remark, “it’s not the first time I’ve faced a handful of cultists, my dear.”

“You would be a target.” He said firmly, not relenting in his stance on the matter, “If the remaining followers of the Absolute are just as vicious as I remember then they would target you in an instant. Just by looking at you, it’s no secret that you’re carrying a child. I don’t even want to think of what they could do to you or the child if they managed to get a hold of you.”

You could hear the fear in his voice, despite the firmness in which he spoke. Unfortunately, he was right. Being only a handful of weeks away from going into labor, your belly extended far and would only get bigger from here. Targeting you would be the easiest way to distract a raging cave bear or sword wielding druid. And, realistically, you were in no condition to travel, let alone fight. You had a hard enough time earlier in the afternoon just to get up from the ground. Traversing the land, sleeping on the ground, and battle would not only be uncomfortable, it would be impossible. Not to mention the risks it could pose to your child. It could result in an early birth or a loss of the pregnancy altogether. Plus, the idea of toting around a newborn while trying to hack away goblins would be less than idea.

“I know,” you sighed, resigned to the truth, “I know. It’s agreed then, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, my heart,” his hands landed on your shoulders now, “if the scouts’ information is correct, it should only be a few days walk to their encampment. Give it a ten-day and we should all be back home.”

“What about you? Are you not staying with me?” It was your turn for confusion to cross your face. You knew Halsin would want to leave with them to battle the upcoming fight, but you needed him at home with you; albeit for more selfish reasons.

“Someone has to lead them,” he said, “they are capable, but they need a leader for battle if it comes to that. And given that most of our neighbors are children, I need to be the one to lead them.” You shook your head, understanding his logic, but disagreeing fully.

“And what happens if you get hurt? Captured? Killed? What then?” The pitch of your voice increased, emotion beginning to get the better of you.

“Were you not just willing to walk into a battle with me while with child? Why has that changed all of a sudden?” He huffed at your reaction, not understanding why you both couldn’t see eye to eye on the situation.

“Because if I’m with you out there then I can see you. I can see with my own eyes that you are safe and alive. If I stay here and you go out there, I’ll be left in the dark. I won’t know if you’re alive or if your corpse is rotting on the side of the road somewhere. Maybe captured and left in a cage to starve or something even worse. I need the peace of mind of knowing with absolute certainty that you’re still breathing, my love.” You’d already saved Halsin from a cage once before, so you knew it was possible for it to happen all over again or worse. No. You needed him home so you could make sure he was safe. Safe to remain with you and safe so he could meet his child.

“If I fall in battle then that is nature’s will. And I’ll have died making sure that you, this community, and this little one are safe. It would be a sacrifice made with love; that I can assure you.” He said softly, trying to ease you into the reality of what was needed.

His words squeezed your heart, making you push from his embrace in recoil. Your lips quivered as your eyes became wet, your breath hitching in your throat. Without another word, he pulled you into him, your arms pinned between his chest and yours. Your cheek was pressed firmly to his bare chest, still slightly damp from the bath, and you felt your throat burn with the anticipation of a sob. You couldn’t think of that; of the possibility of Halsin leaving and never returning because he was killed by an off shoot of a cult you’d already defeated once. He held you tightly to his chest as best he could, given the size of your belly, and kept you there until your breathing had slowed and you could speak without your voice cracking.

“I can’t do this alone,” you said after you’d calmed a bit, “I need you here.” You voice wavered as you spoke. Your memory flittered back to the months you travelled together on the road, camping where you could and bringing the best suited to battle. It was often that when you asked one of your other members to stay behind for a spell, they would always question your judgement. They trusted you with their lives, but there was always the hesitancy of staying behind. Like you in this moment, they felt as if they would be the best choice to bring along. After all, what harm could befall your or everyone else if they came too? As much as you found the back talking to be a nuisance, you finally understood why they would do it. It wasn’t to be in control or undermine your judgements, but it was done simply out of a desire to protect.

And now, you wanted to be the one to protect Halsin from whatever dangers he may face. You had both worked too hard to reach the bliss you’d settled upon to let it be unraveled by a handful of goblins and vagabonds. However, you knew in your heart that you couldn’t go. You were a liability and a target. You needed to stay, much to your dismay. But, despite your sudden realization, you still couldn’t wrap your head around why Halsin specifically needed to go. He needed to stay; for both his sake and yours. The idea of giving birth scared you more than facing the Absolute, but more so the thought of your child losing their father before they could even meet weighed more heavily on your mind. Wherever you need me. That was always what he told you when you asked him to stay in camp. He never questioned or argued or requests then, so why is he now? Why did he have to be so stubborn at times?

“And you won’t be, my love,” he softly kissed your temple again, “but those that are going need guidance and I should be the one to answer that call. I’m not venturing forth because I want to roam or feel the rush of battle. Protecting this place we’ve built, and all those in it, are my duty now. You, my heart, and our little one are my duty. To keep you both safe. As I said, it shouldn’t be more than a ten-day. I’ll be back long before this chid of ours comes; you have my word.”

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

Sleep would not come to you in the night. The thought of Halsin leaving you for a ten-day at minimum, potentially more, kept you wide awake with a knot in your stomach. You lay on your side, your back pressed firmly to Halsin’s chest as he slept lightly beside you. His breaths were absent of his typical snores, signaling that he was having trouble sleeping himself or a lesser quality of sleep at the very least. His arm was wrapped securely around you, cradling your heavily extended belly as his gentle breaths tickled the hair on the nape of your neck.

Moonlight trickled in through the window, painting the room in an ethereal glow that would have been idillic if it wasn’t for the foul thoughts swimming in your brain. You knew Halsin was more than capable of surviving against a small band of crazed cult worshippers, but you still had your doubts. Saving your beloved bear from a cage in a goblin camp was the first time you’d met the man, so that particular memory kept eating away at your mind as you tried to sleep. If he did end up captured, or worse, would mean that he would be stuck in whatever gods awful place the remnant cultists were holed up in until someone, more than likely you, could find him.

However, that alone would have to wait until after you birthed your little one because ultimately, Halsin was right. You couldn’t afford to go out adventuring in your current state. You had a hard enough time standing from a seated position due to the size of your ever growing abdomen, so to actively battle someone and not injure yourself or your child would be practically impossible. So, you’d have to wait until after you gave birth, but would also have to decide on how long to wait until after they were born. You couldn’t bring a newborn on the road with you and you also couldn’t bring yourself to leave them home. Suddenly, as if he could sense your unease and inability to rest, you felt Halsin stir beside you.

“Rest, my heart.” He all but growled in your ear, his grip around your tightening around you slightly as he shifted himself again, “You’re going to worry the little one into the world far too early if you don’t ease your mind.” His voice was groggy from sleep, but still firm enough to get his point across.

With a huff, both from annoyance exhaustion and discomfort from the amount of effort it took to move because of your pregnancy, you rolled to your opposite side. You couldn’t be as close to him as you would have liked, given the size of your bump, but you managed as best you could. With your nose nestled into the warmth of the crook of his neck and your arms squeezed between you, you finally found a comfortable position that may allow for the slightest amount of sleep. Halsin’s strong arm surrounded your body once again, his arm lightly tracing patterns along your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves. Eventually, and much to your gratitude, you managed to settle into a slumber. It wasn’t the most peaceful night you’d had in a long while, but you couldn’t argue that some rest was better than none. Your sleep was dreamless; just a dark voice of silence.

Come morning, the familiar embrace of Halsin’s lips to your forehead and calloused hand cupping your chin caused you to stir, your mind slightly foggy from the haze of sleep you’d finally managed to settle into. Your lover was hovered over you, planting his usual loving kisses to your skin to gently rouse you from your slumber. You hummed softly at the touch of his lips, reaching up to place your hand over his only to come into contact with his old bracers. The wood was rough under your touch; familiar yet a stranger in these past months of bliss. When your mind finally cleared of your slumber, you realized he was already dressed for the day, ready to take to the road in pursuit of the Absolute assailants.

“First light was agreed upon, my love. Otherwise I would stay here with you for every precious moment.” He said as you sat up, the resurgence of dread filling you. With a deep sigh, you quickly pulled on a loose fitting outfit with the intention of seeing Halsin off for his journey. You still disagreed with him leaving, but you also knew there would be no changing his mind or stopping him. He was leaving out of duty to protect both his home and his growing family, and he was more than willing to die for both.

“A kiss for the road?” You asked softly after you’d pulled on your quick outfit, meeting him to the main threshold of your home.

“Of course. As if you even had to ask,” Halsin said as his hands rested across your shoulders, "It is as I said before you faced the Netherbrain, this shall not be our last, my heart.”

His lips pressed firmly to yours, but there was still the softness you adored. He was always so, so gentle and loving with you. You gripped the edges of his old armor firmly, desperately trying to keep him as close to you as possible as you shared your parting kiss. He groaned against your lips, not wanting to part from you and only desired to hold you to him, but you both knew you needed to part ways so he could meet the scouting party across town. After all, the sooner he left, the sooner he would return to you and your child.

“A ten-day, I promise.” He said as you finally parted ways, meeting your gaze with soft eyes that almost threatened to form a tear.

“And not a day more.” You said it almost as a command, but you also muttered it as a prayer.

With a brush of his nose to yours, Halsin pulled from you, his eyes lingering on your features for a moment longer before his gaze drifted to your abdomen. He knelt to one knee in front of you, placing both hands on either side of your belly before pressing a lingering kiss to the area above your navel. Once his lips parted, he pressed his forehead to the same spot and you could hear him muttering a prayer to Silvanus for safety and guidance. You placed your hands along his, bowing your head to join in on his prayer. Before long, he finally stood

“Not a single day more, my loves.” He repeated when he finally lifted his hands from your body, turning to leave as he did. You shared one final look to each other before he eventually left, calling out his love for you one more time. You leaned against the doorway to your home, your eyes fixed on Halsin as he made he way across the realm.

When Halsin’s bulking frame finally faded from your line of sight, you couldn’t help but sigh as you strolled your way back inside your shared home. The exhaustion from the terrible nights sleep was still weighing heavily on your tired eyes and with Halsin’s fate in the hands of Silvanus, you decided to try and rest more. There was much to do around the area, but for now the people of Thaniel’s Realm could carry on with your absence for the morning. You plopped down on Halsin’s side of the bed, a grunt escaping your lips in the process. Just as you prepared yourself to crawl back under the covers, you felt it.

You could feel the tiny, glorious little kicks from inside your belly. You smiled at the feeling, running a hand along the patch of skin where the kicks were most prominent. It was always a strange sensation, but a most welcome one. The small amounts of movement you could feel coming from your little one always reminded you how worth the hardships of child bearing were. Every morning you woke up ill, every piece of food that made you nauseous, and each ache and pain your body endured were always worth it just to feel the small signs of life coming from within. You sometimes felt guilty when you felt the movement, a feeling a selfishness always coming to a head when you failed to make it to Halsin in time for him to have a feel for himself. Throughout the entirety of your pregnancy, he had yet to feel a kick from your beloved little child.

When the movement from your belly lasted longer than usual, you decided to make a final attempt at allowing Halsin to sense the movements for himself. Without a moment to spare, you quickly made your way to your feet and out the door to your home, your hand placed firmly along the side of your belly to keep track of the movements. With the grace of a deer crossing a meadow, you flitted your way through town, which was unusually busy and full of residents saying goodbye to those traveling with Halsin. With a string of apologies and pardons, you weaved your way through the crowd, being careful to avoid any collisions. You weren’t sure if Halsin was still even in the town, considering he’d gotten a head start to the journey to the entrance, but you were determined to try your hardest to let him experience the feel of his child.

When you made it to the town square you paused, both to scan the crowd for the druid and to rest. In general, movement had become harder for you the more your abdomen grew, causing you to tired easily and not do a much as you were accustomed to doing. You inhaled through your nose and exhaled slowly through pursed lips as you continued to look for Halsin. You took a few steps forward and were delighted to see that your quick footsteps would soon be rewarded.

“Halsin!” You called when your eyes finally spotted him, quickly ushering him over to you with a wave of your hand, the other placed along the side of your extended belly. Halsin’s head quickly snapped in your direction, seemingly hearing the urgency in your voice as his gaze settled upon you. He had been conversing with Thaniel before you interrupted, but he wasted no time in giving a quick, light pat to the boys shoulders to excuse himself before he made his way to you. His steps were quick, bordering on a jog as he approached as quickly as possible.

“I’m here, my heart.” He said as he came to you, “Is something wrong? What can I do?” You now realize that your excitement had come across as potential cause for concern and that concern had quickly consumed his mind. His face was stoic, but with a quick glance to his eyes you could see the worry building. His hands had instinctively made their to your arms, holding you close as he searched your face for answers. There was a twinge of guilt that made its way through your mind with the realization you had instilled fear in your beloved druid, but knew that concern would quickly melt away once he realized why you’d come to him to urgently.

“Nothing,” you said as gently as you could, your excitement almost taking your breath away, “Nothing’s wrong; far from it. Just…just wait. It’ll come back.” Without giving a more detailed explanation, you took his large hands from their place along your arms and moved them to your abdomen. You both stood there in silence, staring down towards your stomach as you waited for another sign of movement.

“There!” You whispered as quietly as possible, but your excitement had still gotten the better of you, “There, my love. Do you feel it?” You placed your hands atop his, pressing them lightly to your belly with the hopes he could have his first feel the feather light kicks coming from within.

The worry that was written across Halsin’s face quickly disappeared and was replaced with a look of what you could only call bliss. The fear in his eyes softened and his eyelids seemed to droop. His lips pulled into a smile and you could swear you caught the faintest glimpse of a tear threatening to fall to his cheeks.

“Yes, my heart, I do.” Halsin whispered as he pressed lightly against you, desperately wanting to feel another gentle bit of movement. As quietly as he could, the druid gave a gentle chuckle as if he was in disbelief in what he was feeling.

“I was afraid it would stop if I kept walking,” you explained as he shifted his hands around your front side to feel more, “I didn’t want you to miss this.”

With his hands still cradling the swell of your belly, Halsin leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours, sighing happily as he felt another kick against his palm. Several kicks later, you felt him lean more heavily against you, almost nuzzling as his shoulders and muscles relaxed with your touch. He basked in the feeling of his little one moving against your combined touch. You hummed in contentment as you felt him rock you both back and forth slowly, as if you were entangled in a slow dance together. In that moment, despite being surrounded by dozens of people, there were only the two of you, standing together as one to bask in the warmth and joy that was the child wriggling in your belly. Nothing else mattered except the safety of the embrace you shared and the soft, tiny kicks you both could feel.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your skin, “for everything. For allowing me this moment.”

“Just be sure to be back before this child is born, love,” you said softly, “I want you to enjoy many more.” Your eyes opened only to be met with his soft gaze. You’re not sure how long he’d been looking at you, but the warmth behind his eyes made your heart flutter.

“Oak Father preserve you, my heart.” With a final lingering kiss to your forehead, Halsin reluctantly pulled his hands from your belly as he took a step back.

“You as well, my love.” You said quietly. You knew that if you spoke any louder your voice would crack and tears would spill from your eyes. You understood and respected his obligation to protecting the community he had worked so hard to build, but part of you wanted to be selfish and keep him home. You had seen him in battle many times against the Absolute so you knew his strengths, but you also couldn’t shake the memory of your first meeting in the goblin camp. There was always the very real possibility that he could find himself captured once again or even killed and that thought terrified you to your core. You didn’t want to see anything happen to him for a variety of reasons, but the biggest one being the child the two of you were getting ready to bring into the world.

After everything he had gone through and the misery he’d endured for centuries, he deserved this. He deserved to be there to welcome his child in his arms and drink in those first precious moments. You wanted to see the joy in his face in watching that child prosper in the land he held dear to his heart; to see them flourish and grow to respect the balance between nature and civilization. And, more selfishly, you wanted him there when you gave birth. You were terrified to be alone for that and only wanted his soothing presence there to help you though it all.

As you watched the last of the scouting group leave the gates of the community, you turned to head back towards the market. It would soon be time for dinner and with Halsin now gone, the duty of the community now rested on your shoulders. You offered a quick prayer to Silvanus for the safety of Halsin and the scouting party, but also that your merry band of children would enjoy your nightly bedtime stories in Halsin’s absence.

Tag List: @incrediblethirst, @reignydeys, @thoughts-of-bear, @im-eating-rn, @beardedladyqueen , @simplysaying @emorylovescats, @distelsterncat, @cryingoverpixelsetc

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #gender neutral reader #daddy halsin #halsin romance #halsin brainrot #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #halsin fluff #halsin fanfic

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alastor-is-best-deer-boi · 9 months ago

Text

The Littlest Morningstar

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Tags: Pre-canon, fluff, domestic fluff, parenthood, canon compliant for the most part I think except maybe one headcanon

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar admire their newborn daughter, Charlotte.

Note: After episode five I just had to write this! I had it stuck in my head and needed to get it out. I know posting it right before new episodes tomorrow seems crazy, but better now than tomorrow I think. Hope you enjoy all the fluff! This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic, so I hope it's not ooc.

Also, I know the title is ironic considering Charlie grows up to be taller than her dad, but it fits in this context.

Additionally, we need more little Charlie gifs! I know it's not accurate to the fic, but it's the best I can do.

Also Read on AO3

Lucifer sat slightly curled up with his wife, Lilith, on their bed. The couple leaned against each other, taking in the quiet, peaceful moment with the newest addition to their family, their newborn daughter.

He watched how his wife doted on her sleeping daughter, bundled up comfortably in a soft blanket. Lilith whispered sweet words to the infant, a smile on her face. Lucifer felt like he’d fallen in love with his wife all over again, his heart full of love for his precious family.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Lilith spoke, still keeping her tone soft to not wake up Charlotte.

Lucifer looked up at her, a small smile on his face. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to have both of you in my life… and, I don’t know, I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed with love right now.” He chuckled softly, wiping a tear from his eye.

Lilith beamed, taking his hand in hers for a moment, rubbing gentle circles with her thumb on his skin.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

She let out a small sigh, though still with a happy expression. “Tired… but overjoyed.”

“It was a lot to go through, but you, of course, handled it gracefully throughout the whole thing.” He kissed her hand.

“The whole thing? I feel like you may be exaggerating just a tad.” She joked.

“No, I mean it. How could I possibly lie about my beautiful, strong, and amazing wife, huh? It’s not something I’d do.” He grinned, meaning every word he said.

“Thank you, honey.” Lilith smiled and placed her hand on his cheek, leaning closer to kiss him.

Lucifer gladly accepted, closing his eyes and enjoying her presence. They eventually parted and rested their foreheads together; both smiling.

He pulled away when he heard the tiniest-sounding yawn he’d ever heard in his life; causing a wave of emotions in his heart. Lilith and he looked down at their tiny daughter. Her face had scrunched up, and with some effort, she opened her eyes.

“Oh, just look at her, Luce…” Lilith cooed, making sure her daughter was still settled comfortably in the blanket.

He could feel tears welling up again, quickly wiping them away and smiling. “She’s beautiful.”

“She looks like you, has your eyes.” She murmured, looking down at her with a small smile.

Lucifer felt a swell of pride seeing how similar his daughter’s eyes looked to his. Long ago, he struggled with some of the changes that had been done to him when he fell, the color of his eyes included. But seeing them in his daughter, they suited her wonderfully.

“Her eye shape is like yours, and she kinda has your nose,” he commented. “I think she’s a perfect mix of us, right?”

Lilith couldn’t help but smile again. “Absolutely perfect. Do you want to hold her?”

“Oh, really? You sure you’re ready to hand her over? Just look how small she is, practically the size of my hand! So fragile… I just… well, I…” He chuckled nervously, stammering.

“Honey, you won’t hurt her. It’ll be okay.” She cut off his anxious rambling, attempting to soothe him.

Lucifer looked up at her, slightly furrowing his brows and nodding, attempting to get his nervousness under control. “I’m sorry, you’re right… I guess I’m just…”

“Scared? I understand. You’re not alone in this.” She gave him an empathetic look. “We’ve been practicing for the whole nine months. You got this.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded again. “Thank you, Lili. I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget to unbutton your shirt a bit. Skin-to-skin contact is important for newborns.” She explained.

“Oh, uh, right.” Lucifer muttered and worked on unbuttoning a few top buttons on his shirt. He was significantly dressed down for the whole experience, wearing a long-sleeved plain button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks.

When he was done, he held his arms out, carefully taking the infant in a secure hold as his wife slowly passed her to him. Little Charlotte blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. She had managed to wriggle one of her tiny hands out of the swaddle, still having her little fingers in an instinctive fist.

Lucifer held her close to his heart, hoping she could feel all the overwhelming love coming from the people who loved her most. He smiled, listening to her soft breathing and quiet coos.

“We’re so glad you’re here with us, little one,” he spoke softly, noticing how curious she was, continuing to look around. “Yeah, it’s a big change… all these new sights and senses. But you’re safe here with us. I promise.”

Lilith rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, watching them both lovingly.

Lucifer gently touched her soft, chubby cheeks. His thumb carefully rubbed the adorable little red circles on her face. They were just like the ones on his face.

Charlotte made a little content coo, already heading for the process of babbling. Though it would be a long while to get to that point. She reached her tiny hand out, gripping Lucifer’s finger.

“Wow… she’s way stronger than she looks.” He chuckled softly. “I suppose she takes after her mother.”

Lilith placed her hand on theirs for a moment, not fighting the urge to smile again. “She takes after both of her parents.”

He nodded, feeling tears in his eyes start to well up again. “She’s perfect… thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a father, I mean it.” He looked at Lilith, feeling nothing but pure love.

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. Next, she kissed her daughter’s head; causing the newborn’s face to scrunch up in surprise for a split second.

Lucifer chuckled at her adorably confused expression. “You okay, Char Char? I guess it’s another new thing to get used to.”

“Char Char?” Lilith repeated, an amused smile showing on her face. “She’s barely hours old and you’ve already come up with a nickname?”

“Ah, well, I guess I couldn’t help myself… she’s just so cute!” He blushed a little from embarrassment.

“Of course she is. Look who her father is.” Lilith teasingly flirted a little. She laughed shortly, seeing how red his face turned.

“Thank you, dear.” Lucifer smiled and looked away for a brief second before looking back down at his daughter, gaining his composure somewhat.

Even though she wasn’t at the age yet to know how to smile, the corner of Charlotte’s mouth pulled up a little, giving the appearance of a smile.

Lucifer rested his face against Lilith’s shoulder for a second. “I don’t know if I have the strength for this Lili.” His voice muffled slightly.

She picked up on why and chuckled quietly. “Why is that?”

“Just—look at her! My heart can’t take how cute she is,” he said in a hushed tone, turning to look at his daughter again.

“I guess you’ll have to get used to it.” She smiled.

“I have no choice.” He sighed, clearly smiling as well.

Charlotte cooed again, and he gently patted her head, feeling the soft golden curls of her hair.

“I can tell she’s getting sleepy again… or maybe hungry… or both.” He furrowed his brows. “I’m going to have to learn all the differences.”

“You’ll get them in time,” she replied.

“Do you want to take her again?” He asked. “I don’t want to hoard all the baby cuddles…”

“If you’re okay with it, and there’s no such thing as hoarding baby cuddles.”

Lucifer scoffed lightheartedly. “Yet.”

He kissed Charlotte’s little red cheeks before handing her back to her mother. He watched her settle back into her mother’s arms, yawning again.

“Oh, you were right about her being hungry… I’m guessing after this she’ll probably fall asleep again,” Lilith spoke, nursing her daughter.

“Sounds about right. That’s the life of a baby, especially one as new as her.”

Eventually, as they had predicted, Charlotte fell asleep. Lucifer listened to her calm breathing again, feeling at peace, which had been hard to come by in his life before.

“We’re parents now,” he stated. “This is our new life…”

“Still feeling glad about it?” Lilith asked.

“I’m overjoyed.” He spoke honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

She nodded. “I’m sure after a bit we’ll settle into our new routine.”

Lucifer looked up at her and smiled, appreciating how wise she was being. What would he do without her?

“I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so lucky to have you two… I love you both.” He managed to keep his voice steady.

Lilith kissed his cheek. “I feel the same.”

Lucifer hoped he’d be good at this whole father thing. He knew that realistically every parent made mistakes, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t give it his best. And it didn’t change the fact that no matter what, he would love his daughter with everything he had.

“I love you, Charlotte. More than anything.” He thought.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel amazon prime #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lilith #lilith morningstar #lucifer x lilith #baby fic #kid fic #my writing

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nancy-reads · 1 year ago

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am I the one you think about?

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you're struggling to move all the boxes into your new shop in diagon alley. good thing that you have such a lovely redhead neighbor to help you....after you nearly kill him, of course.

warnings: slight angst and a cliffhanger

authors note: there will be a part two! i promise this has a happy ending i love these two too much. also this is mostly unedited because i really want to post it like right now

CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

As soon as you apparated to your new shop, you knew you should have taken your friends up on their offers to help you move in. The bricks were uneven, the stairs were steep, and you had what felt like a million boxes to move into the shop and the flat above it. Magic would speed up the process, but you could only lift so many at a time.

You’d dropped your third box when you tripped on the stairs and nearly broke your arm. Rubbing your arm and cursing yourself for your stupidity, you weren’t paying attention as you walked outside to retrieve more boxes.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” you cast, anger coloring your tone. Two boxes shot up into the air, and before you could stop them, they hit the man walking past right in the face.

You clapped your hand to your face and lowered your wand, immediately causing the heavy boxes to fall right on top of him.

“Shit!” you cursed as you ran over and squatted next to him. “I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

You cursed yourself. Of course he’s not alright. You just hit him in the face with a heavy box. Twice.

“Christ,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “You really know how to make an impression.”

Heat flooded your cheeks. Of course, he was attractive too. Fiery red hair, a strong jawline, and freckles all around his face. It looked like he was tall too. You couldn’t really tell since he was mostly on the ground, but he looked strong.

“I am so sorry,” you repeated. “I have some bruising salves and if anything hurts more I can probably fix it, I mean I am a healer-” you cut yourself off. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, I think it's just my pride that’s bruised,” he said, smirking as he moved into a seated position. You cringed as you saw the blue and purple mark that was already developing on his forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to fix that bruise? It looks pretty nasty.”

“Just your pretty face should be fine.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you grabbed the salve. Still, he was cute…

“I don’t know,” you teased as you began applying the ointment to his face. “Delusions like that might indicate some sort of brain damage.”

His smile widened. “Does that mean you’re a hallucination? Because that would be cruel.”

You rolled your eyes as you finished. “Seriously though, I am so sorry,”

“Seriously though, it’s fine,” he mocked with a deadpan expression. “I’m Fred, by the way. My brother and I run that shop over there.”

Fred stood as he pointed to the massive orange shop labeled Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“Really, I couldn’t tell from the massive statue of your face on the front.”

He smirked. “Can’t miss it,” he paused for a second. “And you never told me your name.”

You introduced yourself, and Fred smiled. “Pretty name.”

“Uh…thanks,” you stuttered. It felt like the flush on your face would never go away.

It was silent for a moment before Fred asked, “Do you need any help bringing those boxes up?”

You immediately shook your head. “No, no I’ve got it. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you sure?” he smirked. “It seemed like you were struggling a little bit before.”

You glared at him. “I was perfectly fine until you got in the way.”

“Got in the way!” He gasped in mock-anger. “I was simply walking the pavement when someone hit me with like ten flying boxes!”

“It was not ten, you liar,” you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you continued to banter with him. It was just so fun.

“Wow,” he tutted. “Barely known me five minutes and you’re already calling me a liar.”

“I’ve always been a good judge of character.”

Unbeknownst to you, Fred had already taken his wand out of his pocket and was beginning to edge toward the boxes. He waved his wand, and two boxes rose into the air as if they were feathers.

Of course, he has to be good at magic too.

“No. You are gonna go home and make sure that you don’t get hit by any more stray boxes,” you demanded, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.

Fred’s smile grew as he lowered the boxes (much more gracefully than you ever have) and placed his hands up in surrender. “How about we make a deal?”

You cocked your head. “What kind of deal?”

He clasped his hands and stepped closer to you. “How about I help you with these boxes-”

“No.”

“Let me finish, I swear did no one teach you that patience is a virtue?” There’s a smiling lilt to his voice that makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“Fortune favors the bold.”

“Anyway,” he continues, smiling still as he rolls his eyes. “I’ll help you with these boxes, and in return, you’ll come and visit me in my shop tomorrow.”

You paused, pretending to think for a moment. Of course, you were going to do it. More time with cute ginger shop boy who was definitely taller than you and looked like he had some very strong arms? How could you say no?

“I suppose I could fit it into my schedule,” you said, daring to elbow him in the side as you both walked toward the boxes.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with more laughs than you thought possible. Fred was so funny, you supposed it made sense that he ran a joke shop. It felt like both of you were laughing every single second.

And the best part was when you found out how strong his arms really were.

Fred had just been telling you about one of his Hogwarts escapades when he and his brother used an age potion to try and enter the Triwizard Tournament.

“So you really grew long white beards?” you couldn’t stop giggling as you followed Fred down the stairs.

Fred threw a smile your way as he reached the bottom of the steps. “Yup. We nearly started fighting each other too. Would have if not for- woah!”

In your incessant laughter, you hadn’t been paying much attention to your very steep stairs and found yourself falling…

…straight into Fred’s very strong arms.

It was silent for a second as you stared into each other’s eyes. His arms held you tightly as if you weighed nothing at all. You could feel heat creeping up your neck.

Fred paused, looking like he was thinking hard about something.

“You know, I guess you could say that you fell for me,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

You smacked his (heavily muscled) arm. “That was disgusting.”

“Sorry darling, I couldn’t resist.”

Was it possible to die from joy and embarrassment at the same time? It had to be.

You told him more about your shop as you floated the last few boxes upstairs. You were opening an apothecary with potions, ointments, and other helpful tools for healing so that people didn’t have to go to St. Mungos every time they had a problem. You were also thinking about offering small healing services once you had more staff.

“Thats so cool!” Fred grinned. “I think we’ll probably end up with some similar customers.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’ll get all the victims of your schemes.”

“I just sell the stuff,” he objected. “What my customers do is their own business.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Sure Fred. You tell yourself that.”

He gave you an innocent smile as both of you looked outside to realize that you had just brought the last boxes in. You stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” you said. “I did make a promise to see your shop.”

“That you did,” Fred replied. “I better see you. I didn’t carry all these boxes for nothing.”

“That excited to see me, huh?”

“Yes, actually,” his smile was genuine. “I can’t wait to see your reaction to all my ‘schemes’ as you call them.”

Heat spread through your cheeks. “I’m excited to see you too.”

The next day was torture. Showing up at Fred’s shop at eight in the morning would have been the definition of creepy, so you forced yourself to set up your shop and unpack most of your boxes.

You were quite proud of the work you had done for the last few hours. Twinkling lights were strewn around your shop, and magical plants wrapped around the shelves. All in all, the glass potion bottles and herbs would fit right in.

You finally allowed yourself to head upstairs and choose an outfit. It took far longer than it should have, considering that Fred saw you yesterday in what was quite possibly the ugliest outfit you owned.

Then you messed with your hair and your makeup. You knew it was kind of stupid, considering how flirty he had been yesterday, but you wanted to feel confident. And looking good was probably the only way you were going to get there.

Finally, after spending far too long on your appearance, you stepped out the door of your shop. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was the brightest thing on the street, and your eye was immediately drawn to the massive statue of Fred at the front, the orange coloring, and the smiles and laughter that surrounded the building. Even just looking at it made you want to smile.

As you walked briskly toward the building, you could feel your heart beginning to race. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was emerging, because really, you should not have a crush this big. You'd met the man once, for Merlin’s sake.

Your smile immediately dropped when you actually got to the shop.

Because Fred was standing there, his smile wide but different than yesterday. It wasn’t filled with the same laughter and joy. He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at someone else. He was looking at another girl. Another girl who leaned in a kissed him. And he kissed back.

And you turned on your heel and fled back to your shop.

#sorry #fred weasley x reader #x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #fanfic #writing

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tinfoil-jones · 4 days ago

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Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 4

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.4

"If we’re going to get to the pit of this peach we gotta get some variables outta the way first. I need a scan of his brain and yours. While conscious.”

“Mine as well?”

“You said he’s your identical twin - he should be genetically the same as you. We can use a scan of your brain as a comparison to see if there’s physical damage on the organ itself, because brain damage is the most common cause of amnesia.”

“I do have the technology available for an in-depth scan, but… ”

“But what?”

“It’s in the shape of a ray gun, but like a traditional MRI whoever is getting scanned has to stay completely still.”

“I don’t s’pose in the time it took me to go into town and get supplies, you managed to reconcile with him?”

“Reconcile? He’s still convinced I’m a mad scientist out to harvest his organs, 'or worse turn him over to the IRS'- don’t ask about that second part. If I point anything gun-shaped at him, he’ll freak out.”

“Can’t say I blame him…”

“Hush, Fiddleford. There’s an easy way we can get him to hold still.”

“Stanford- Stanford put the tranquilizing doohickey away. We both know that concoction of yours wasn’t formulated with humans in mind. Surely you have less caustic means of sedation.”

---

“Stanford, anyone can tell that bottle’s been tampered with.”

“I have a theory that this persona of his is so self-destructive he’ll still drink it.”

“Y’know, this bottled water tastes suspiciously like two crushed Ambien tablets.”

*Stan keeps drinking it anyways*

“I am impressed, but I also hate that your theory was correct.”

*Ford undeafens the cell*

“Stanley, if you think there’s zolpidem in that, why are you still drinking it?”

“You think two Ambien is enough to take me down? Guess again, I’ve used this stuff to cut coke. You’re gonna have to try harder than that, PhD.”

“Hmm, so we should have used Coca-Cola instead of water…”

“That ain’t what he meant by- how did you survive by yourself out here?”

---

“Hello there …Stan?”

“Sup babe.”

“Don’t call me that. I was wondering - you’re so handsome already, but it’d surely tickle my fancy a bit more if you put on this here necktie.”

“Hell no.”

“Do you not know how to tie one? I’d be happy to-.”

“I know how to tie a tie, specs. But I’ll never wear a necktie ever again. Not after Colombia… I still can’t shave that part of my jaw without nightmares.”

“I beg your pardon?”

---

“I couldn’t convince him to put the mind control tie on.”

“Fiddleford, why are you staring a thousand yards away?”

“He was explaining to me his time in Colombian prison, then he went on a tangent about necklaces and now I don’t think I can change a tire without thinking about it ever again.”

“... Interesting. We’re not resorting to the tranq gun yet?”

“This is your own brother you’re talking about.”

“There’s only one thing we can do. The only thing that will 99.99% work on my brother. I didn’t think it would have to come to this so soon. But it’s our only unharmful option left.”

---

“Stanley.”

“Doc.”

“I will give you twenty dollars if you stay still for thirty whole seconds.”

“On one hand this is a set up… On the other hand, I’ve done worse for twenty dollars.”

“You what ?”

“Ten bucks up front.”

To be continued...

#if we take inflation into account 20 bucks is a lot of money okay #early amnesia au #you know the situation is pretty bad when Fiddleford has to be the ethical one #I dont know what happens when you mix Ambien and cocaine or coca cola just don't try it at home youd probably just die #Stan did it because he's a fictional character who follows a degree of toon logic #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #stanley pines #stan pines #fiddlestan #but in the background #gravity falls #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #Stan calling Ford anything except for his name #mystery trio

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michellemisfit · 3 months ago

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✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Thanks for creating the game and for the tag @jrooc thanks for the tag @vintagelacerosette

Today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Michelle, michellemisfit

Current Location: Living room, surrounded by feathers, as I’m currently fletching some arrows

Favourite picrew: This one is pretty fucking spot on. Or at least it was at the time. Hair is very different now. But then, hair is always different… lol

Also this one is spiritually VERY me

What's one thing you want in a picrew? Ability to add coloured streaks! And a wide selection of scars, or alternatively the ability to move them around the screen. Either is fine. But mostly the hair thing. My hair is generally 4 different colours. Don’t try and limit me to one!!

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? Erm… 3 way tie between Mexico Gallacrafts, Fimo Gallavich, and Cookie Gallavich? Maybe? Argh. Turns out, looking back at my art tag… I’ve created some pretty cool stuff. Huh. Yay me.

Why is it your favourite? I don’t really do photography, and I’m really proud of the idea behind and the execution of that photo. And while I LOVE drawing more than anything, I don’t think I’m exceptional or anything. But I’m damn creative when it comes to silly 3D craft projects, so both Fimo Gallavich and Cookie Gallavich make me happy and feel like something not just anyone could do… I dunno.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? It was LONG to create. Both cookie and Fimo Gallavich took several days in total. And I think that’s the other thing I like about myself. I am willing to put in the work, and it usually pays off.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Hah! You’ll be able to corroborate this, I’m not just sucking up!! LOL I’m currently reading Camp is a Battlefield by @blue-disco-lights, @jrooc, and @mybrainismelted, with artwork by @creepkinginc, so that’s the last one I commented on :)

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I mean… every single WIP I have ever started reading, only to realise that maybe there won’t be any more of it… 😱 Every. Single. One. They’re all special, and they all hurt in their own special ways. And I will remain subscribed to all of them FOREVER, because you never know!!

Also? Comment on WIPs. Tell authors how much joy the story brought you, how much space it’s occupying in your brain, how much you would love to see it continue but how happy you are to have read as much of the story as there is because it’s changed your brain chemistry… do NOT comment saying ‘next chapter when?’, cause that makes you a dick bag.

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I’m a sucker for fake dating, only one bed, and a soulmate AU 🤷🏽‍♂️

Least favourite? …not a huge fan of kid fic, but hey, all it takes is a great author to make it work.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? Again, do not kink shame, because you’re only ever one good fanfic away from discovering something about yourself you did NOT see coming…

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Exhausted and antsy. Is it good enough? Are people gonna like it? Should I even bother anyone with this? Why don’t I just go and hide under a rock forever?? I felt okay about this when I finished it, why is it suddenly the worst thing to have ever been created??? …I wish there was a sense of calm and accomplishment. There is not. Brains suck!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: @deedala - I so appreciate how we’re on a similar wave length when it comes to art as well as ‘everybody wants to hunt me for sport’ vibes. I know I can always count on you for kind but honest words, and that’s so important!!

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Read comfort fic. Probably Like Real People Do or None the Wiser.

Edit: Also? Go and read comments and tags on old art posts. That’s a sure fire way to cheer me up!

This was fun, and made the 15 minute wait between fletching each feather pass much faster. Thanks!!

If you are currently making your own arrows and need something to occupy your wait time with… how about completing a tag game? lol

@heymrspatel @loftec @creepkinginc @deedala @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @iandarling @iansw0rld @ian-galagher @mybrainismelted @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @mikhailoisbaby @sickness-health-all-that-shit @rereadanon @rutherinahobbit @energievie @junemermaid @francesrose3 @deathclassic @faejilly @rutherinahobbit @gallawitchxx @look-i-love-u @jessij1997 @callivich @celestialmickey @wehangout @doshiart @lynne-monstr @the-rat-wins @blue-disco-lights @suzy-queued @sleepyfacetoughguy @spookygingerr @burninface @gallapiech

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday #Mys stuff

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russellradio · 5 months ago

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~to be updated when I post a new fic, so I have them all in one place~

you can find me as bucksclipboard on ao3 💕 kudos and comments make my day!

bucktommy fic masterpost here

be someone (T, 2.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A call leaves Buck wondering if he’ll ever be a parent. Not just a donor, a dad. A great dad. Chimney tries to convince him of his qualities – and Eddie has a hard time staying quiet.

or: eddie thinks buck already is someone to chris

will you remember me? (T, 4.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

You know the trope: Someone suffers from amnesia and they don’t remember their partner. Well, this is the opposite. Buck doesn’t remember a thing – except that he loves Eddie. How is Eddie supposed to tell him they’re not actually together?

for summer of buddie – week 5: break the cliché

nobody compares (G, 1.3k) | ao3 | (ambiguous bucktommy/buddie)

"Sorry", Eddie said and scrunched his nose.

"No, you’re right", Tommy admitted. "I don’t want that. I want to give him something he’ll love."

"Well, then not a gift card. Look, I’ve been a terrible gift giver in relationships, so I’m not judging. But you look like you’re getting a migraine, so maybe… let me help you?"

A deep sigh escaped him. "How?"

or: eddie helps tommy shop for buck's birthday gift and inadvertently makes things worse

unless you're choosing me (T, 4.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"Could you check that?", Eddie called from the kitchen. He had insisted to make something for them tonight instead of ordering their usual pizza and ice cream dinner.

"Sure", Buck replied and snatched the phone off the coffee table. He knew the pass code – it was the day Eddie had started working at the 118. There was no new text, just a message from his phone provider, but an earlier conversation was still opened. Before Buck could place the phone back on the table, something caught his eye. Why was Eddie talking to Hen about him?

or: buck reads a text he wasn’t supposed to read

when it all melts down (T, 2.2k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck thinks a beach day is the perfect distraction from an empty house and a lack of summer plans. Eddie thinks if Buck walks out of the ocean like a Greek god one more time, he might just lose his mind.

or: there’s only one cure for a frozen tongue after too much ice cream

I wish I could help (E, 2.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie is so pent up he can barely focus on his job – and Buck is all too happy to help. That’s just what friends do.

or: I couldn’t find any smut referring to *that* scene in 7x05, so I wrote it

thanks, babe! (T, 1.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie accidentally calls Buck babe and refuses to have a meltdown over it. It was just his subconscious betraying him because they were surrounded by couples, right? Right?!

or: I love “accidental” tropes, how did you know

more under the cut

do you want to know a secret (T, 3.2k) | ao3

Buck overworks himself and his family worries. When Eddie overhears a conversation between Maddie and Chimney, he learns he might just have caused Buck’s change in behavior. The good news is – there’s something he can do about it.

or: maddie and chimney worry over pining!buck – eddie takes charge

it's just the thought of you and what I leave behind (T, 6.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

As the cruise ship starts to sink, Bobby and Athena aren’t the only ones in desperate need of saving. The 118 goes on a high-risk mission and a close call brings Buck and Eddie together.

or: 7x03 reimagined

I let my guard down for a moment (M, 6.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"It didn’t stop. Buck went from hoping the packages were from someone special to suspecting someone was toying with him. The hopeless romantic in him was slowly wilting. When he opened the latest letter, suddenly he was not so sure his secret admirer was of the good-natured kind. "

or: who needs police protection when you have eddie diaz by your side?

hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life (T, 3.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

or: what if buck didn’t tell eddie the entire truth

how's your head? (haven't had any complaints) (M, 2.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When he glanced over, Buck had already drifted off to sleep. He looked so innocent, Eddie almost couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth mere seconds ago. Almost. Because he was 100 percent sure he’d heard it.

or: you can’t just make this kind of joke and forget about it

rose-colored boy (T, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck is draped across an armchair, rambling about rosefinches and Eddie just can’t help himself. In some kind of out-of-body experience, he gives his best friend a completely casual, meaningless (lie!) forehead kiss.

or: yes, another accidental kiss fic because I don’t think there can ever be enough

we should be at the club (E, 2.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When Buck hears that Eddie has been going golfing to put himself out there, he offers to be his wingman. The world’s worst wingman. Although, to be fair, Eddie brings his best friend to the club and leaves with a new boyfriend.

or: just an excuse for them to wear tight pants and take them off

8 days a week (E, 6.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A sweet moment of weakness helps Buck and Eddie get together. While Eddie doesn’t expect much to change about their relationship, Buck slips back into old patterns.

or: eddie notices all the ways buck tries to make himself smaller

don't blame me, love made me crazy (E, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Steam was fogging up the room and Eddie cursed inwardly. Was Buck trying to cook himself? Eddie wasn’t one for steaming hot showers but Buck ran cold even on his best days and this wasn’t one of those. He must’ve been desperate to warm up and soothe the pain his bruises were causing him. Eddie was suddenly very aware he was intruding on his best friend's privacy, even if he did need help, and decided to announce himself. “Buck, it’s me, I-“ He stopped in his tracks when Buck came into vision and met his gaze. Worry turned to lust quickly. Buck was hard. Incredibly so.

or: eddie joins buck in the shower (plot? what plot)

I only ever want you (E, 2.7k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When a handsome guy flirts with Eddie, Buck can’t stand to watch. He leaves the 118’s bar outing in a hurry, only for Eddie to follow him to the loft and confront him. A misunderstanding of why Buck is so jealous leads to a confession – and more.

or: there’s jealousy, there’s fighting, there’s delicious makeup sex

love is stored in the picnic basket (T, 4.9k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck participates in the 118’s basket bidding on Valentine’s Day and things go exactly as (Bobby) planned. When Eddie is done standing on the sidelines, he makes the grand gesture Buck has been dreaming of.

or: buck’s heart (um, picnic basket) is up for auction and eddie is ready to pay

whose peace are you keeping? (G, 3.9k) | ao3

Buck tells Eddie about the Buckley-Han family dinner and how odd it felt hearing his mother call him a “miracle baby”. Why can’t he trust his parents’ support when that’s all he’s ever wanted? He doesn’t know that Eddie lost his temper with them when they visited the firehouse two years ago. Now it’s time to come clean. A call that feels all too familiar interferes but a good night’s sleep brings them back on track.

or: it’s actually incredibly easy to love evan buckley – and eddie told his parents as much

my heart is trying to crawl out of my chest to get to you (G, 2.1k) | ao3

Buck is released from the hospital and while the rest of his family is understandably on edge about his recovery, Eddie throws himself back into work. He refuses to be a part of Maddie’s “operation buck up buttercup” and Hen grows suspicious. Listen, it’s not like Eddie isn’t worried, quite the opposite actually. He just found a better way to watch over Buck, without having to spill any of his secrets. Unless technology plays a trick on him, as it usually does, and his foolproof plan goes wrong. But Buck might just surprise him.

or: the one where eddie takes buck's recovery a little too seriously

and my attempt at rpf if you're into it:

closer than ever – ryliver (E, 2.k)

if you made it to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading!

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #911 #911 abc #911 fic #fic masterpost #911ramblings

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morning-star-joy · 1 year ago

Text

burned out flames should never reignite, but I thought you might take me home

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 13

Pairing: friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: When Tommy realizes you've been sleeping with someone, you agree to let him set you up on a date to get him off your back. Joel witnesses you on your date, and shows up at your house later that night for a familiar midnight call—but this time is a bit different than the ones before.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ Only MDNI) fingering, praise, drunk sex, unprotected p in v sex, possessiveness, jealousy, dirty talk including mild degradation, alcohol use, language, some angst

A/N: Full version of burned out flames should never reignite. We're almost caught up to ao3! In other news, I set up a kofi! No pressure at all to leave anything, but if you feel like it, a coffee would be greatly appreciated. The link is in my bio! Love y'all so so much!!

Wordcount: 15.1k

chapter 1 || chapter 12 || chapter 13 || masterlist

ao3 link

“You fall, and you crawl, and you take—no,” you pause your singing to shake your head, mumbling to yourself before starting over, “No, that’s not it. Uh—you fall, and you crawl, and you break…”

You spun in your kitchen, a smile breaking across your face as you sang the lyrics to the song that had lingered in the back of your mind for two decades. Once Tommy had gifted the cassette to you, you had taken it upon yourself to memorize the lyrics, listening to the song on repeat whenever you had the chance to.

It had elicited laughter from Dina more than once, the girl playfully judging you for your mumbled, off-tune singing until you sat her down and forced her to listen to the song with you.

“Okay,” she had said as you shared the headphones, her foot tapping to the beat as she nodded to you, laughing again as you swayed and sang along. “I get it now. It’s good.”

Eventually, you listened to the entire album, but you kept going back to that one song. It helped alleviate the pain from a dagger you had never managed to remove from your heart, giving a sense of comfort that you needed as autumn rolled closer to Jackson.

The shift in seasons brought forth a memory that you would rather not recall, but you knew you would be forced to remember once the days got shorter and colder. So you held onto this happiness, this rare feeling of peace, for as long as you could.

A knock sounded on your back door, and you jumped, caught in a rare moment of being completely taken aback as you stared at the small window on the door, seeing the perpetrator who had intruded on your moment.

You sighed, crossing the short distance to swing the door open, arching an inquisitive eyebrow at the man leaning against your doorway, the same way he always did.

“May I remind you of Rule #1, cowboy?” you teased as you leaned against the open door, to which Joel rolled his eyes.

“I’m here for the friend part of the arrangement,” he mumbled, and your lips twitched into a nearly unnoticeable smile.

“Not the benefit part?” you drawled, and he sighed at your sultry tone as you shifted to allow him into the house.

“Not right now,” he said simply while he moved past you, the brushing of his body against yours causing a spark of electricity to shiver through you that you blamed on the activities that you were alluding to.

“What a shame,” you sighed playfully as you closed the door behind him, making sure to cover up the window; blocking the early morning light out, as well as protecting you from any prying eyes of potential nosy neighbors.

A laugh almost escaped you as you watched Joel head right for the cabinet where you kept the mugs. He pulled down the engraved mug without hesitation, grabbing another mug to slide down the counter towards you before he turned towards the coffee tin that you had just recently replenished.

“Did you move in when I wasn’t looking?” you joked, eliciting a scoff from the gruff man as he prepared the coffee, placing the pot on the stove as you reached for your matchbox.

“Shut up,” he muttered, the usual response both of you tended to give when you didn’t have a clever response to something the other one said.

You merely hummed as a reply, blowing out the match after you struck a flame that lit the stovetop under the coffee pot.

Your relationship with Joel had begun to settle over recent weeks. The two of you ironed out most of the awkwardness in your new, tentative friendship, though you both still felt more comfortable partaking in each other’s company in private than being seen together in public.

No mention was ever made of the night you had patched Joel up in his home. There was no reason to dig up the grave that memory was buried in, and you were at peace leaving that moment to rest.

Absolutely no part of you was curious about the feelings that Joel had stirred from you when he held on to your hand for longer than he needed to.

No, there was no fiber of your being that still lingered on the memory of the sight of his bare back before he pulled a shirt on.

Or his soft thanks before you ran away.

Rules, you reminded yourself sharply, shaking the memory out of your head as you realized it was clawing its own way out from where you had laid it to rest, six feet under in your mind. Nothing personal. No taking off clothes. No bedrooms.

You glanced back at Joel as he poured himself a cup of coffee when it was ready, licking his lips in anticipation before he brought the mug to his mouth for a sip.

Nothing personal. No kissing.

That specific part of the rule passing through your mind unexpectedly made you jump, and you glanced away quickly as you tried to deny to yourself that the urge had been there, no matter how brief.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his shoulders relax as a quiet sigh of content left him from tasting the bitter drink before he put his mug down, and your stomach flipped before you forced yourself to look away again.

Nothing personal, you repeated internally, the words becoming a familiar mantra whenever moments with Joel like this arrived. Nothing personal. No—

Your mug being pushed towards you again caught your attention. Looking down, you saw that it had been filled with coffee, and your heart thudded against your chest when you realized it was prepared the way you preferred it.

When you reached your hands out to take it, your fingers were trembling slightly, and you steeled your nerves as you grabbed it. Swallowing thickly, you pushed whatever the fuck was happening in your mind deep down under the surface as you brought the mug up to your lips for a sip, trying not to let out a noise of satisfaction at the perfect taste.

You didn’t thank him, and Joel didn’t ask you to.

Familiar silence descended on you both as you drank your coffee together in relative comfort. In the middle of a sip, your gaze landed on your little dining table, and the memory of Joel’s face between your thighs as you spread your legs for him on it flashed through your mind so quickly, so suddenly that you choked on your drink.

Joel glanced at you from the corner of his eye at the sound, and you spun away from him, clearing your throat loudly a few times until you recovered.

“You doing okay there?” he asked, and you stiffened as you heard the question had more of a hint of smug teasing to it than real concern.

“Oh, just dandy,” you drawled, using sarcasm to cover up how flustered you were just from the memory of Joel going down on you.

Fucking hell, the man had fucked you so many times you had lost count, so why did the act of him eating you out get you so riled up?

You paused, going over the thought you had just had again as the first part of it sent shock rippling through you.

Jesus, you had fucked Joel so many times you had lost count.

Sure, you hadn’t exactly been a blushing virgin before Joel. You had had your fair share of sexual encounters, including a few one-night stands with individuals in Jackson who you still ran into from time to time. But those had only ever been one, maybe two nights.

But Joel, you kept going back to.

And now the way his hands gripped your hips was familiar. The way he licked and bit just below your neck, in a spot you could easily cover up any sign of a mark, was a sign that he wanted you. The way his head tilted back, his face contorting in pleasure as his movements became unsteady—you knew that meant he was close, that he was about to give in to it.

Give in to you.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” Joel’s voice came as a smooth murmur in your ear, his hand spreading across your hip as he gently tugged you back into him, and a soft, audible exhale left your lips as your back pressed to his chest.

Fuck, you thought, your eyes closing, mouth falling open as his hand continued to slowly move across the hemline of your sleep pants before dipping down under it.

“Mm, no panties?” Joel mumbled, lips pressed against your ear, and you gasped quietly as his fingers lightly traced along your folds.

His digits were wet—oh, fuck, he had probably licked them before he snuck up on you when you were lost in thought. Joel had walked over here with the intention of finger-fucking you while you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

“Uh—” your breath hitched, any dry remarks lost before they could leave your lips as his fingers spread you apart before finding your clit.

You bit your lip, a needy whine escaping your throat as one hand leaves the mug of coffee you were still holding to grab his arm.

“I thought—” you broke off with a harsh exhale as he began to trace circles around your clit, biting down on your lip harder before you finally managed to stutter out, “Thought maybe you’d show up last night. Figured I’d make it easier to access.”

Joel chuckled against your ear, the rumble of his smooth baritone sending shivers down your spine as you melted back into him. He began to slowly rub your clit from side to side, and a soft moan slipped past your lips as you rolled your hips into his touch.

“Don’t you have such a pretty way with words,” he drawled, and you moaned as you realized he was actually teasing you—in your kitchen, drinking your coffee—and, god, you were more than happy to let him.

You hissed as the coffee sloshed from your mug when you nearly dropped it, dodging the drops of hot liquid before Joel easily grabbed it from you with his free hand, setting it on the counter next to you to be forgotten. He then spread that hand across your stomach, reaching up to grip your breast in his palm, thumb flicking over your nipple until it grew hard through the fabric of your tank top.

“Fuck, J—” you bit your lip, just cutting yourself off from moaning his name.

Even though you had already whimpered it more than enough times when he went down on you, suddenly your stubbornness was flaring up. A determination not to let him see how much he got to you after your thoughts earlier.

But then his fingers began to slow, his thumb slipping away from your nipple as he rubbed your clit achingly slowly. You whined as you tried to roll your hips against his hand faster, even as he kept the slow pace.

“What was that?” he whispered, his nose pressed against the nape of your neck, and you exhaled sharply because, fuck, that nose was gorgeous, the strength and slope of it and—

Wait, gorgeous?

What?

“Fuck,” you gasped, trying to pull yourself away from him, but he easily pulled you right back against him, his grip firm where his hand was still cupping your breast.

“The other part,” Joel murmured smugly, apparently still caught on your words from earlier, and not your sudden hesitation.

“I—”

His thumb flicked your clit and you gasped, back arching as he held you tight in his grip. Still, you shook your head stubbornly, keeping your lips sealed even as he flicked your clit again, causing a whine to become trapped in your closed mouth.

“Say it,” he whispered, urging your lips to part with his command as his thumb began to suddenly rub quickly over your clit again, and your mouth dropped open with a sharp gasp. “What, you’re shy now? After you couldn’t stop moaning it when I made you cum three times on that table?”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, though the words lost their edge with the pleasure of the sudden fast pace of his rough, thick fingers stimulating you.

“Working on it,” he grunted, a whine escaping your throat at the words. Joel’s lips found your ear again, his teeth grazing the shell of it, tongue flicking out along it as he hissed, “Say. It.”

When one of his digits slipped easily through your wet folds and sunk into you without warning at his order, you nearly cried out from the sudden intense fullness, your head tilting back onto his shoulder as you gasped, “Joel!”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel it against your skin as his lips grazed across the edge of your jawline from where your head rested back on his shoulder, “There it is. Good girl.”

A whimper left your throat, his name leaving your lips again as his finger continued to thrust into you, again and again, pulling another moan of his name out with it each time. Eventually, he sunk another finger in to join the first, and you lost complete awareness of your surroundings except for his fingers inside you and on you, rapidly stimulating your clit as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“That’s it, darling,” he murmured, and you shivered from the sound of his Southern accent wrapping around the term he called you, your chest heaving from your rapidly approaching high as he continued to tease your orgasm closer with his words, “You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding desperately as your hips rolled with his fingerfucking, his free hand moving to stimulate your other nipple. “Yes, Joel, yes.”

“I know you wanna cum,” he mumbled, tongue flicking out along the edge of your jaw before he bit down on the skin underneath it, and you gasped as your hips bucked into his touch.

“Yes, please, please,” you begged, losing any sense of coherence that would make you hold onto your stubborn pride, instead losing yourself in submitting to him completely in this moment of approaching ecstasy.

“Then do it,” he drawled, lips moving up to graze against the top of your temple as he commanded almost gently, “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

With those words, it only took a few more thrusts of his fingers and a last, delicious circle against your clit for you to do as he told you. You gasped as your hips jerked forward, your body falling back so hard with the intensity of the orgasm that Joel had to grab you tighter, holding you up against him as you shook with the pleasure that rocked through you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, your eyes finally flashing open, vision still blurry from the euphoria of release. “Fuck.”

When your vision focused, you saw Joel looking down at you, his face mere inches from yours as your head still rested back on his shoulder, and your heart stopped.

Your eyes, glazed over with the haze of pleasure, searched his dark ones from where they watched you from above. There was an intensity to them, a familiar desire, and something else that made your lips part subconsciously.

Joel’s eyes flashed down to your mouth at the movement, and your breath caught in your throat. His brow furrowed, staring for a few seconds longer before meeting your eyes again, and you licked your lips as you tried to bring yourself fully back to the present, still lost in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“I—”

You weren’t sure who had started to speak, but whoever it was got rudely interrupted by the sound of a knock on your front door.

For a moment, you and Joel just froze—probably trying to figure out if you had just hallucinated the sound, or mistaken something else for it.

But then there was another knock, and you swore under your breath as you jolted out from Joel’s grip that had loosened on you from shock.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

You and Joel began to hiss a variety of swears to yourselves as you tried to fix yourself up, making yourself as presentable as you could as he darted towards your back door. He stopped when he reached it, casting a panicked look back to you, and you sighed before waving him off.

“Just go,” you whispered, and the man had the gall to give you that stupid fucking smug arch of an eyebrow as he glanced over you.

“You’re a mess,” he mumbled, his hand coming up to push a stubborn strand of your hair away from your face as you walked forward to shove him out the back door, and you ignored the skip of your heartbeat by scoffing at the remark.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” you rolled your eyes, biting your lip as you took one last look at him standing on your back door steps. Your mouth opened to say something, stopping when you realized you didn’t know what to say, before shutting the door in his face with a sigh.

There was nothing more to say, you told yourself. You continued to comb your hands through your hair, adjusting your sleep pants as you hurried to the incessant knocking on your front door.

“Yeah, alright, I’m coming,” you snapped, adjusting your clothes one last time before swinging the door open with no small amount of exasperation. “Who the actual fuck—”

You stopped short, your stomach dropping as Tommy grinned at you from the other side of the door.

“Hey,” he greeted happily, holding up a small tin in his hands. “Came across some more coffee in a recent trade. Figured I’d drop some off since I remembered you were low on—”

Tommy stopped suddenly, his eyebrow slowly raising as he leaned back, his gaze moving up and down your body as you shifted awkwardly at the analysis.

“What?” you tried to snap, but it came out as more of a mumble before trying to grab for the coffee tin, which he quickly pulled away.

Laughter began to spill from Tommy’s lips, both his brows lifting now as he asked bluntly, “Alright, who are you fucking?”

You scoffed, a loud laugh of surprise leaving your own lips as you couldn’t help but give him an incredulous grin.

“You can’t be serious,” you said disbelievingly, but his smug grin told you all you needed to know. Rolling your eyes, you tried to grab for the coffee again, though your faint amusement quickly turned to exasperation as he kept holding it out of your reach while he shifted past you. “Tommy—”

“Are they still here?” he asked with a grin back at you, clearly getting far too much entertainment at the expense of your exasperation from his sudden jump to conclusions.

Which, well, he was right, but Jesus fucking Christ you didn’t need Tommy to know you were having regular sex with somebody, of all people to figure it out.

“Nobody’s here, Tommy,” you replied, your voice clearly showing your annoyance as you followed him around your living as he swept an analytical gaze around it, apparently searching for any sign that somebody else had just left in a hurry. “Have you ever heard of masturbation?”

Tommy laughed loudly, pointing at you with the coffee tin as he began to move into your kitchen, and you sped up your footsteps to try and catch up with him.

“Really?” he asked incredulously, ignoring your nod before he gestured towards your jaw. “Then how’d you manage to do that to yourself?”

Your hand flew up to your jawline, pressing your fingers down along it until you winced at a sensitive spot, and you held back a groan as you remembered Joel’s lips and teeth on that spot.

“Seriously, Tommy,” you groaned as you walked up to where he stood in front of your counter. “Nobody—”

You stopped short as Tommy held up a mug with a familiar engraving, still half-full of black coffee, and he looked smugly at you when you fell into stunned silence.

“That means nothing,” you said quickly, folding your arms over your chest, too stubborn to let him believe he was right even as he set it down to pick up your own mug next to it.

“Damn, even sharing your coffee with them?” he teased, a glint in his eyes as he shook the tin he had brought in his hand before setting it down at your small, humble coffee station, along with your mug. “You gonna bring them to dinner next?”

You coughed, lifting a hand up to cover your smirk of amusement, because you really shouldn’t be entertained by the thought of the person Tommy was alluding to bringing to your monthly dinner being somebody who already attended it.

“It’s not a big deal, Tommy,” you sighed once you were finally able to wipe the smirk off your face, dropping your hand to your side while he looked at you in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed, waving his arms before gesturing back to the two mugs on your counter. “You’re drinking morning coffee with someone! That’s huge!”

You shifted awkwardly, glancing away from him as his words cause unease to build inside of you.

“It’s not like that,” you tried to explain, lifting your hands in exasperation as you tried to find the words. “It’s just sex. Really.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” he drawls with a roll of his eyes, leaning against the counter with a smug smirk and his arms crossed. “So, who is it?”

You spun away from him with a frown, picking your mug back up to take another sip of your now cold coffee.

“Why would I tell you?” you covered up your trepidation with a sigh, sending an unamused look at his mock look of offense at your next words, “So you can interrogate them?”

“I mean, someone has to,” he said with a shrug and an easy smile, to which you shook your head in disbelief.

Tommy stared at you, his gaze searching yours, and after a moment where you didn’t budge, he deflated slightly, amusement faltering with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, fine,” he muttered as he waved his hand dismissively. “Keep your secrets.”

Even though he let it go, you could still see the curiosity in his gaze, and you were proven right when after only a few moments, he opened his mouth to ask, “Can you at least tell me how long it’s been going on?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you could feel a headache coming on from the situation that you had found yourself in.

“A few months,” you half-lied, deciding to leave out the fact that the first time that it happened was more than a few months ago. He opened his mouth, probably to ask another question, and you raised your finger to point at him as you quickly added, “No more questions!”

Tommy raised his hands in a defensive gesture, shrugging casually even though you could tell his curiosity had not been sated.

“Okay, okay,” he sighed as he pushed himself off the counter, but not without sending another sweeping gaze around the kitchen, as if he was still expecting to find your mysterious casual sex partner lurking around the corner. “I get it, you want privacy. You don’t wanna tell your best friend that you’ve been fucking somebody for months. That’s fine.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes at the melodramatics as you placed your hands between his shoulders to begin pushing him back towards the front door.

“Because you’d make way too big a deal out of it,” you said as you pushed Tommy out of the kitchen and through the living room, even as he tried to hold onto walls and plant his feet into the ground to halt your progress while he laughed.

“You sure they’re not lurking about somewhere?” he said over his shoulder, grinning at you as you managed to wrestle him back to the front door. “I’d like to get a look at the mysterious individual who stole the heart of my dearest friend.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the words, even as the truth of the ‘dearest friend’ comment made you soften slightly.

“It’s just stress relief, Tommy,” you sighed as you swung the door open, leaning against it as you gestured for him to exit, which he did with a heavier sigh that outmatched your own.

“Sure, sure,” he drawled sarcastically, his Southern accent strong with the words as he walked out onto the porch. He spun around, walking backwards towards the porch steps as he threw a charismatic grin towards you. “So you wouldn’t be opposed if I set you up on a date, then?”

You glared at him, wanting to deny him as you always did, but you knew that he wouldn’t stop pestering you about what he had discovered this morning unless you agreed. So you threw a hand up in the air and snapped, “Yeah, go ahead! Sounds great, actually.”

Tommy’s eyebrow raised as surprise flashed across his face, but he quickly recomposed himself, his grin returning with an air of glee at your agreement to the idea he had been pushing on you for years.

“Alrighty then!” he shouted, drawing the attention of the early risers down the street, and you glared at his overabundant enthusiasm.

A laugh nearly escaped you as he nearly fell down the porch steps from walking backwards, but he caught himself on the railing, recovering quickly from his brief stumble before directing the grin back towards you again. “Just you wait, I’m gonna set you up with the perfect match.”

“Yup, I’m sure,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes as you began to close your door.

Tommy’s grin grew mischievous, a glint of something akin to mayhem in his eyes as he added, “Then we’ll see if your mystery suitor will appear from the shadows to—”

You shut the door in the middle of his sentence, shaking your head as you heard his laughter echo even through the walls that now separated you from him.

A groan escaped your throat as you sank against the door, your back sliding down it as you combed your hand through your hair.

“Motherfucker,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure if it was directed towards Tommy, Joel, or even yourself. “What the fuck did I just get myself into?”

Joel glared half-heartedly at his brother as he was dragged by the younger man to The Tipsy Bison, his brows furrowed at Tommy’s cheerfulness that almost left a bounce in his step as they walked under the streetlights.

“Is there a reason why you’re in such a good mood?” Joel drawled, though his tone was playful as he arched an eyebrow at Tommy’s annoyed huff.

“Just doing a little recon,” Tommy muttered with a sly smirk, which only increased Joel’s cautious curiosity when they walked through the doors to the bar.

Joel only had made it a few steps into the bar when Tommy’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him to the side, maneuvering on the outskirts of the room to find a table in the back.

“Now you’re just being weird,” Joel muttered, to which Tommy rolled his eyes as he sat at the small table and got the attention of a nearby waitress, greeting the woman by name and exchanging a few pleasant words before ordering their drinks.

“Been that way for a long time, big brother,” Tommy replied smoothly, sending a wink towards Joel at the older man’s annoyance, to which Joel scoffs.

“Yeah, sure,” Joel mumbled, his brows still furrowed as he glanced away out towards the room, as if he could ascertain why Tommy had been so eager to come out tonight.

The bar was less busy than it was during the height of summer, but there were still a fair amount of people out tonight. They were probably trying to catch those last warm nights before autumn fully arrived, and Joel’s fingers tapped against the table as he scanned the groups and individuals for anything out of place.

His search was interrupted when the waitress returned, placing glasses filled with familiar amber liquid in front of them. Tommy thanked them kindly, and Joel’s nod and quiet murmur of “thank you, ma’am” was followed by a blush on the waitress’ face, her gaze lingering on Joel a bit longer than necessary before she left to the next table.

Joel noticed it, but he ignored it, lifting his glass to his lips for a sip, even as Tommy smirked at him.

After a moment where Tommy’s smirk didn’t waver, Joel sighed, glancing up at his brother with an annoyed, “What?”

Tommy shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he lifted his own glass for a sip.

“Nothing, nothing…” Tommy brushed off, and Joel shook his head, deciding to ignore his brother’s cryptic smirk until the younger man spoke again, “I mean, you gotta know that the ladies around town are curious about you, right?”

“Shut up,” Joel replied bluntly, taking another sip of his drink as Tommy let out a bark of laughter.

“Come on, I’m being serious!” Tommy grinned, leaning in to rest his elbows on the table, meeting Joel’s unamused expression with one of pure entertainment at the topic. “Maria has heard them whispering, especially after your little date with Esther. They think you’re hard to get, and some see that as a challenge.”

Joel scoffed, shaking his head again as he glanced away from Tommy’s gaze as it became curious at Joel’s quick dismissiveness.

“Well, they ain’t gonna win that one,” Joel found himself muttering, his grip tightening around his glass as a familiar face flashed through his mind, and he stiffened before taking another large sip of his drink.

When he turned back, Tommy had only grown more curious, but Joel cut off whatever his brother was about to say quickly as he asked, “So what exactly are we doing recon for tonight, baby brother?”

Tommy scoffed, muttering an annoyed “pendejo” under his breath, though his tone was affectionate before his gaze sweeps across the room.

“Ah,” Tommy exhaled, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face as he looked back at Joel, gesturing with his head in the direction of whatever had caught his attention as he muttered, “at your three o’clock.”

Joel’s frown grew, suddenly feeling uncertain at Tommy’s clear smugness as he followed the direction given to find whatever his brother had been looking at.

And when he saw it, his entire body tensed up, grip tightening around his glass as his blood ran cold.

Joel didn’t know what he had been expecting to see, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to be her.

The crease between his brow deepened as his eyebrows furrowed, gaze flickering over the small scene that was almost unnoticeable in the grand scheme of the bar that night; but now that Joel’s attention had been brought to it, he couldn’t see anything else.

Her back was almost completely to him from where she sat at a small table diagonally opposite from their corner in the bar, holding a similar glass to his own in her hands, her gaze focused on the person opposite her. There was a small smile on her face as she nodded at something they said, her legs crossing under the table, the movement drawing Joel’s attention to them, and he froze.

Joel’s gaze slowly dragged up her bare legs, to where the skirt stopped just above her knees, and he felt a sudden flare of an emotion he never thought he would feel again at the sight.

He quickly looked away, straightening in his seat as he glanced back at his brother, thanking God that Tommy was too focused on the pair himself to catch Joel’s reaction.

It’s not like Joel hadn’t known it was coming; she had told him about the situation she had gotten herself into the next night they had been together, after that early morning he showed up and broke part of their first rule by fingerfucking her in broad daylight.

Neither of them had mentioned the slip-up in their carefully followed rules, or the near disastrous situation of somebody almost finding them like that, until she slowly brought up the consequence of their actions.

“So, uh…” she had hedged as she leaned back, hands placed on his chest as she rode him on his couch, the words coming out between quick breaths, “I’m going on a date.”

Joel had paused, his hips no longer rolling to meet her movements, hands tightening their grip on her hips as his gaze shot to her and he grunted out, “What?”

She shrugged—actually shrugged, like it was the most casual topic in the world—as she rolled her hips faster, earning another grunt from Joel, but his tight grip on her waist didn’t falter as she replied, “Well, Tommy—”

Joel groaned out of annoyance, running a hand down his face as he muttered through it, “Please don’t mention my brother when my dick is inside you.”

She had the audacity to chuckle at that, the sound breathless and sending shivers through Joel, and he parted his fingers on his face to glare at her through them.

“Okay, well,” she huffed, sliding her hands down to find better leverage on Joel’s torso as she began to bounce on him, and Joel nearly lost himself in just watching her like that. His eyes were glued to her breasts through her thin t-shirt, wondering how they would look if they were bare when she bounced on him, before her next words brought him sharply back to the topic again, “somebody came in after you left. They saw your mug and—”

“What?” Joel interrupts harshly, pushing himself up to a sitting position so he could catch her eye.

The new position made him grunt though, his hand finding the small of her back to steady her as she also moaned at the new pleasure this pose caused.

“I—fuck, hold on,” she gasped as she reached her hands up to place on his shoulders, adjusting herself until she slammed back down on him, hard, and when she nearly cried out from it, he knew she had found just the right spot for him to hit her with each thrust in.

And, God, she looked so fucking gorgeous when she was completely coming apart from it, but he needed answers.

So Joel reached up, wrapping both arms around her waist to keep her still, eliciting a glare from her when she looked down at him.

“Joel—” she shook her head, digging her fingers into his shoulders through his shirt, her glare hardening further as she tried to move again, but he wouldn’t let her. She finally stopped when he didn’t budge, letting out a huff of, “Seriously?”

“What does he know?” Joel said in a hard tone, his gaze serious, and she sighed.

“Not much,” she shook her head, pushing her hair from her face, Joel’s eyes following the movement of the strands falling into place before he snapped them back to her face. “I told him it was casual. He doesn’t know it’s you.”

Joel snorted, shaking his head as he muttered, “Well, that’s comforting.”

She rolled her eyes, sighing as she smacked him in the shoulder. “Relax, would you? I agreed to this date so it would get him off my back.”

Joel’s eyes darted between hers, searching for any deceit in her words, even as a voice in the back of his mind was asking why he didn’t want it to be a lie.

“That’s it?” the words slipped from his mouth quietly, before he could stop them.

Her gaze was locked with his, a look he hadn’t seen before wavering in her eyes as her breath escaped her in a soft exhale. She watched him for a moment longer, Joel’s nerves increasing as she did so, before she finally nodded once.

“That’s it,” she confirmed, and Joel let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Alright,” he murmured, moving his hands back to her hips, and she let out a sigh of relief, starting to lift herself up on him again.

“So can we please get back to—fuck!” she interrupted her own words with a gasp as Joel bucked up into her, hard, finding that same spot from earlier that drove her crazy, and he continued to hit it relentlessly until she came with his name on her lips.

Joel tore himself from the memory back to the present moment, blinking rapidly as he looked in front of him to see that Tommy was still watching the pair with a smirk on his face.

“She finally let you set her up, then,” Joel found the words slipping out of his mouth, and he cursed himself for it, lifting his glass to busy himself with drinking so he wouldn’t say anything else stupid.

“Yup. She had to, once I finally got her number,” Tommy said confidently, leaning back in the chair and draping his arm across the back of it, his stance casual and confident.

Joel looked back at him, finally lowering his glass. He knew exactly what his brother meant, but he saw the opportunity to find out just what Tommy’s theories were, so he could keep the second rule maintained. “What do you mean?”

Tommy took a long sip from his glass, looking far too smug for Joel’s liking, and he finally began to understand what she had meant when she had thrown the ‘stupid, smug Miller look’ accusation.

Finally, Tommy lifted his glass to gesture towards her with it, and Joel’s gaze flashed back to her, his hand on the table clenching into a fist as he saw that she was still smiling.

“She’s been seeing someone,” Tommy said simply, and Joel’s eyes widened a fraction at the unexpected word choice as they flashed back to his brother. “For a few months, apparently. She denies it, but…”

He trailed off with a shrug, looking back to meet Joel’s gaze just as the older man managed to put his guard back up, revealing no hint of how much the words had thrown him off.

“How'd you figure?” Joel asked, forcing his tone to remain neutral, his posture casual as he watched his brother’s expression closely over the top of his glass.

Tommy only smirked before cryptically replying, “I have my ways.”

Joel tried to suppress the chill of trepidation he felt at that response. He told himself that it was fine, that Tommy hadn’t caught on to the fact that Joel was the one seeking her out.

If Tommy had figured it out, Joel was sure his younger brother would be jumping across the table by now to strangle him for fucking his closest friend.

“I think she likes them, though,” Tommy spoke softly, and Joel had to lean forward across the table to hear him clearly over the loud conversations surrounding them in the bar.

The words caused a strange feeling to stir within Joel’s chest, but he ignored it for the time being in favor of continuing his line of questioning, caution be damned in that moment.

“Why do this, then?” Joel asked, jerking his chin towards the table where she sat. Her head was tilted to the side now, her chin resting in her hand with that small smile still on her face, and Joel’s stomach twisted unpleasantly before he looked away again.

“Well, either it’ll weed them out…” Tommy started casually, glancing around the room as if he expected to find whoever was the culprit of capturing her attention when, unbeknownst to him, that person was sitting across the table from him now, “...or it’ll confirm my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?” Joel repeated in confusion, glancing back to the man seated across from her, and Joel’s gaze shot back to Tommy as he said in disbelief, “What, Mike? You think she’s been seeing Mike?”

Tommy shrugged, looking over at the serious patrolman who was seated across from her now, a rare smile over the man’s face as he talked to her.

“Well, he’s kind of a hardass, which falls in line with her type,” Tommy chuckled, and Joel stiffened as he looked back down at his cup.

“I suppose based on whatever her…” Joel trailed off, hesitating as he turned the glass in his fingers, “...previous relationships are, you’d know best.”

“Relationships?” Tommy repeated with a laugh. “No, no, she doesn’t do relationships.”

Joel’s brow arched as he glanced back up, his attention now fully captured.

“I only know from her flings,” Tommy explained, waving his hand dismissively. “I know she’s had a few here and there, but she doesn’t pursue anything serious. She’s goddamn stubborn on that matter. Probably left more than one broken heart in her wake”

Joel slowly shifted his attention back to her at the words, his gaze moving along her body as that old familiar feeling stirred again at the revelation that she’s had flings here in town.

When was her last fling? Joel found himself wondering, his grip curling around his glass tighter and tighter as his line of thought continued. How recent was it? Who was it? Did he know them? Has she had one since they started their arrangement?

“Yeah, she likes them too serious for their own good,” Tommy sighed, pulling Joel’s attention back to his brother, and he quickly loosened his grip on his glass as he realized he was starting to hold it so tight that it was close to fracturing. He lifted it for a sip right as Tommy’s next teasing words hit him out of nowhere, “You know, like you.”

Joel choked on the alcohol, coughing loudly into his fist as the glass clattered back down onto the table. He looked back at Tommy in surprise, fear flooding his body as he wondered if Tommy had actually finally put two and fucking two together to figure it out, but he was merely laughing at Joel’s expense in a way only a younger sibling could.

“Relax, I’m fucking with you,” Tommy finally managed to get the words out between his cackling, and Joel scoffed as he sat back in his chair with a hard glare. “Hell would freeze over before you two stood in the same goddamn room together by choice.”

Joel’s gaze flashed back down to his cup, a frown flickering onto his face even as he muttered, “Yeah.”

Tommy’s laughter came to an abrupt halt after that, the man quickly shifting in his seat to face the other way as he hissed under his breath, “Shit, look away.”

“What—”

“Look away!” he repeated in a harsh whisper, staring at the opposite wall, and Joel shifted with a frown.

Despite Tommy’s urgings, Joel did what any true older brother would do, which was the opposite as what their younger sibling told them to do.

Glancing back at the table, he saw her gaze was honed in on them, and Joel quickly shifted, his head whipping around to face the opposite wall with Tommy after making eye contact.

“Fucking hell,” Tommy mumbled, glaring at Joel from the corner of his eye as he accused in a harsh whisper, “you looked, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Joel hissed, glaring daggers at the wall ahead of them, both their bodies turned away from her table as much as they could, but surely it was pointless.

There was no doubt that she had seen them now, and Joel was sure both he and Tommy now dreaded whatever hellfire she was about to rain upon them for snooping on her date.

Joel half-expected her hands to come slamming down on their table any moment, her glare deadly as she faced them down from above, but nothing happened.

After another long moment, both brothers shifted awkwardly, glancing at each other nervously before looking back towards her table.

She was gone.

And so was her date.

They began looking around the room, trying to figure out where the pair had gone, when Joel caught a glance of the fabric of that goddamned skirt flaring out from the corner of his eye.

He shifted slightly, following the movement to where she was striding towards the doors, not looking back once as she exited the bar with Mike’s hand on her upper back.

Joel’s blood had run cold by the time Tommy sighed, and he didn’t look back at his younger brother as the man mumbled, “Well, she’s gonna have it in for me for at least a month, now.”

Yeah, Joel couldn’t help but think to himself with a wince, even as his stomach continued to twist uncomfortably while he stared at the now empty table where she had been sitting, smiling, drinking and laughing in a fucking skirt on a fucking date.

Yeah, that probably made two of them.

You sighed heavily, slamming your door shut behind you before reaching your feet up to begin pulling off the stupid shoes you had worn tonight.

“Heels,” you muttered to yourself, pulling one off by the ankle strap and letting it fall to the ground in your entryway before shifting your weight onto that foot to pull the other shoe off. “Fucking heels. What was I doing?”

Given, they weren’t that large of a heel, only an inch or two. But you had pulled them out of the back of your closet anyway, the place where you had buried them when Dina had given them to you as a birthday present—although she also had to guess the date, just like Tommy—last year.

The heels would have been enough of a statement, but you just had to go and wear the stupid skirt too.

You groaned, rubbing your temples to try and stave off a growing headache as you walked barefoot down the hallway towards your kitchen.

Why had you even done it? Why had you gotten so dressed up? You had been dreading the date enough, you didn’t have to make such a big deal out of it.

Maybe you had wanted to convince yourself that you could do it. Convince yourself that you could shave your legs, wear pretty skirts with heels and go on dates.

You slammed your drink cabinet closed after pulling a decanter filled with whiskey out, pulling the stopper out and taking a large drink.

But why now? Why were you trying to do those things now, when you had never given a fuck before?

You collapsed on your sofa, kicking your legs up on it to rest your feet on the other end as your head leaned back against the armrest. Staring up at the ceiling, you took another long drink from the decanter before letting out another sigh.

“God fucking dammit,” you muttered, running a hand down over your face and smudging the lipstick Dina had convinced you into letting her apply before you went out tonight.

That was probably the reason. When you had let slip to Dina that you had a date, the girl had been so excited that she was practically shaking. She had persuaded you into letting her help you get ready, so that’s all there was to it. You were making her happy.

Still, the headache wasn’t easing, so you took another drink.

And another.

With a groan, you turned onto your side. Your vision was starting to get a bit blurry if you moved too fast, but you were still coherent enough to think back on how stupid you had probably looked tonight.

It’s not like you hadn’t expected the…audience, for lack of a better word. In fact, you think that in the back of your mind, you had been counting on it.

When you had told Joel about the date, there had been a hint of…something. A look you hadn’t seen in his eyes before, glinting behind his careful, cold exterior. A crack in the armor. A chip in the walls between you.

Some part of you knew that deep down, you had wanted him to see you like that. Even if you would never admit it to anybody, least of all yourself, you had wanted to see that crack grow, to take another chip at that wall. To see what may be hidden behind the stoic calculation in his dark eyes, to hear an undertone in his words, loud and clear.

You wanted his reaction, his…

His what? You think to yourself with a self-deprecating scoff. Jealousy?

God, it was stupid. So fucking stupid.

What would he have done? Would Joel have stormed over and pulled you away? Would he have taken you home with him instead of another man?

Did you want him to?

You shook your head sharply, clearing the question from your head before you could panic over a subconscious answer. It didn’t matter now. Clearly he didn’t do any of those things.

And now here you were, looking amazing and getting drunk on your sofa.

Alone.

Your eyes landed on the familiar framed drawing on the fireplace mantle across from you, and you let out a quieter, more somber sigh as you gazed at it.

Eventually, you push yourself up, rubbing your face again as you mutter to the drawing, “You’d be proud, Little Star. Got all dolled up tonight.”

Reaching down to rub at a callous that had begun to form on your heel from the shoe strap, you grew even quieter as you mumbled to yourself now, “Didn’t do me much good, though.”

You were about to flop back onto the couch and probably drink until you passed out when a sharp knock sounded, and you shot up in an instant.

“What in the—”

You began to mumble to yourself as you glanced towards the front door, when another knock cut you off, and you realized it was coming from behind you. Stumbling to your feet, you took a moment to steady yourself, placing the decanter on the coffee table before heading to your kitchen, towards the back door where the knocking was originating from.

The window on it was covered by habit from receiving your nighttime visitor, and your heart thudded against your chest, hand shaking as you reached out for the handle. You took a deep breath, composing yourself enough to fall into your usual armor of confidence wrapped in a barbed wire of snarky cynicism as you swung the door open.

If you were a more sentimental person, you would’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw him standing there.

But you weren’t, so you didn’t. Still, you froze, eyes widened as you glanced over Joel. He leaned heavily against your doorway, his hair a mess and a light flush dusted across his cheeks.

You were sure you were imagining that last detail, so you blinked rapidly, expecting your vision to clear so you’d see the regular stoic-faced Joel standing in front of you.

When you refocused on him, you realized that he was still as stoic-faced as ever. If anything, he was actually glaring at you right now.

But that slight pink to his cheeks was still there.

“You gonna invite me in, or stare at me all night?”

You snapped out of whatever stupor you had fallen into with a scoff at his blunt rudeness. Your eyes narrowed into a glare, stepping to the side and gesturing dramatically for him to enter.

“After you, Mr. Miller,” you drawled sarcastically, watching him stiffen considerably at your words before stepping into your kitchen, and you let the door close behind him.

You turned to watch him as he paced further into the kitchen, keeping his back to you as his hands clenched and flexed at his side. Your head tilts, gaze dragging over his tense shoulders as you realize that he almost seemed…restless? Certainly not an emotion you had seen from the calm and collected Joel Miller before.

“There a reason why—”

“What the fuck were you doing?”

Joel’s voice interrupted your question, his tone revealing irritation, and your eyebrows raised in surprise as you rolled back onto your heels at the sound of it.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your voice betraying your own growing irritation as Joel walked further into the room.

Why the fuck was he so prickly tonight?

Despite your best intentions to keep your friendship as amiable as you could, the way he was speaking and the alcohol pumping through your veins was quickly dissolving your patience.

He rested his palms against your kitchen counter, still facing away from you. It annoyed you further, the way he wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“Your little show tonight.” His tone was almost biting with the accusation, and you bristled at the word choice, leaning forward now as your annoyance quickly turned into anger.

“Excuse me?” you repeated the same question, your voice lower, conveying that he was venturing into dangerous territory.

You had thought your voice was warning enough, but he didn’t stop.

Because it was Joel Miller, of fucking course he didn’t stop once he had set his mind on something.

Stubborn old man, you think to yourself as you can see the muscles in his arms flexing with the sleeves of his flannel pushed up, and you hated the desire that it caused to surge through you just at the sight of his carefully contained strength.

“You know what I mean,” he muttered, his large hands curling around the edge of the counter.

Your nostrils flared at his persistence as you took a step towards him.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, Joel,” you snapped, speaking his name with contempt, and you felt a sick form of pleasure as his shoulders tensed further at the venom in your voice.

You were getting him as riled up as he was making you.

Good.

“My show?” you repeated his word choice, your voice rising as your anger continued to simmer, each word you spoke feeling like you were nearing a boiling point as you walked closer to him. “What the actual fuck, Joel? You knew about it. I told you what was happening. So please explain to me exactly what my show entailed—”

You placed a hand on his shoulder once you got close enough, and apparently that was Joel’s breaking point.

He whipped around, his hand flying up to catch your wrist, the action cutting you off in the middle of your sentence. With a few large, steady steps forward, Joel pushed you against the wall of your kitchen, your back hitting it as he glared down at you.

His hand lifted to pin your wrist that was still in his grip above your head, his glare not wavering as he met your stubborn gaze with his own.

“Your show was this,” Joel snapped, his other hand wrapping around your knee, pulling it up so the skirt fell back to expose more of your skin. “Wearing this slutty little skirt and flashing that coy smile at another man, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening as you stared up into Joel’s intense gaze.

“Another—”

“Acting like you wanted him,” Joel continued as if he hadn’t heard you begin to speak, his voice lowering to almost a snarl, his chest almost brushing against yours with each heavy breath he took. “Walking out of there with his hand on your back, like he could take you home. Like he could fuck you and leave you satisfied.”

Your breathing became heavy with each word he spoke, a familiar desire coiling in your stomach, but there was something else growing. Another heat, a different intensity unfurling between you, and you couldn’t help but lean into it even as you met his glare with your own.

“And this,” Joel breathed out, hooking your leg around his waist before he reached his hand up to grip your chin.

His thumb flicked across your lower lip, and your breath hitched.

Those familiar brown eyes—a color that had become almost comforting at times—were blazing as he looked down at the lipstick that had smudged onto his calloused thumb.

“What were you planning to do?” he murmured, his voice heated as he tilted your chin up, looking down into your eyes.

Your heart was pounding in your chest now, the anger melting from your bones as you began to lean into his touch. Anticipation somehow made you both tense and relaxed at the same time, eyelids fluttering as his rough thumb brushed across your lips once more, his breath fanning across your face.

When you smelled the alcohol on it, you froze.

“You’re drunk,” you muttered, trying to shatter the moment with your words, but you still struggled under the weight of it as he didn’t pull away.

Instead, Joel watched the way his thumb almost slipped into your mouth as you spoke, his own lips parting as he murmured, “So are you.”

A soft breath escaped you.

The words were so similar to those you had exchanged months ago, before you started down this road together. But now you had switched places—you were accusing him this time, warning him—and the situation felt so strangely unfamiliar, so different from the dynamic between you so far that it made your mind spin.

Still, you found enough sense to shake your head, even as the next words slipped from Joel’s lips as a taunt, “Were you planning to wrap these pretty lips around his cock?”

You slapped Joel’s hand off of your chin with your free hand, your other one still pinned in his grip against the wall above your head. Your glare returned with full-force as you snapped angrily up at him, “Fuck you, Joel.”

“I’m trying to get you to,” he groaned, moving his hand that you had slapped back to your leg that was still wrapped around his waist, snaking it over your knee and up your exposed thigh.

Your breath stuttered again, even as your glare didn’t waver.

His eyes didn’t meet yours, though; they remained fixed on your lips, which parted again as you hissed, “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

Finally, his eyes flashed back up to meet yours again, that new intensity simmering between you. He didn’t ask what you meant, but apparently he understood as he murmured, “Why do you care?”

You marveled at the familiarity of the question, the simple question taking you back to the first time you had met him, that winter day when you had placed a hand on his shoulder as he leaned against a streetlight.

Who are you to care?

His voice had been colder, so much colder then. He didn’t know you.

Did he even know you now?

Does the kindness of a stranger mean nothing to you?

You heard your own voice reply to his in your mind, reeling at how much had changed since then.

Was that all you were to each other? All you had ever been?

Just two strangers who met each other in the night, again and again?

But then why is he looking at you like that now?

Shaking your head, you wondered if he really understood what you were trying to say, your heart pounding against your chest.

You also wondered if you even wanted him to understand.

“I want you to still be able to look at me when the night’s over,” you exhaled heavily with the words, the confession taking all your breath with it, and Joel froze.

His gaze flickered back and forth between your eyes, as if he was trying to read you, trying to find something that you weren’t saying.

After a moment of being frozen like that, Joel exhaled, pulling his head back so your faces weren’t merely inches apart, even as his hand remained wrapped around your thigh.

“Just let me fuck you,” he whispered hoarsely, a shiver going through your body as you saw the desperation in his eyes. It was a pure, raw need you had never seen from Joel before. But you held onto that stubbornness, right up until he added in a groan, “please.”

Then you broke.

Words failed you in that moment, so you only nodded, and that was all the permission he needed before he dropped your wrist from his grip, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you fully against him as his lips descended on your neck.

You moaned, tilting your head back as he pressed heated, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth scraping and tongue swirling against your skin. His hips rolled forward against yours, his erection pressing right against the fabric of your panties that had grown damp during your argument, a betrayal of how much you had wanted him to do just this.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted, continuing to grind against you as he bit down on your neck. You gasped, hands flying up to grab at his shoulders as he bucked against you. “I fucking knew you wanted this. I knew you wanted me.”

A whine left your lips at what the words could also mean, what was left carefully unsaid, as he rutted against you.

Joel’s lips moved up your neck to press along your jawline, and you gasped as your nails dug into his shoulders through his lightweight flannel, earning another grunt from him as he bucked his hips against yours again.

“You—” you gasped, losing your ability to speak momentarily as he slipped a hand under your skirt, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric of your panties so he could really tell just how wet you had gotten. He rubs his fingers over your covered clit, and you moan again before finding the words you had wanted to say, “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Joel muttered, his lips finding your ear as he hissed against it, “but that’s your type, isn’t it?”

You moaned again as his hand slipped over your thigh to your ass, giving it a hard smack before he pulled you off of the wall when he took a step back.

His hands moved down to unbutton his jeans, his eyes still on your askew skirt as he murmured, “Were you going to let him into your bed? Let him fuck you in it?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, watching as he slowly unzipped his pants, and you found yourself nodding at the question.

“Yes,” you whispered, even though you couldn’t remember if that was true or not. You couldn’t think about anything other than this moment, couldn’t see anything past the way Joel was looking at you, with a need more fervent than any you had ever seen from him before. “I was.”

Joel actually groaned, his gaze darkening with intent as he spoke in a low tone, “Show me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, only understanding what he meant when he gestured towards the back of your house by jerking his chin towards it.

“Show me where you were going to let him fuck you,” he clarified, and your eyes widened when you finally understood his intention.

In retrospect, you should have stopped it there. You could have stayed in the kitchen, or even moved into the living room to fuck.

But there was a new look in his eyes, an emotion that almost looked like passion, and you were helpless to turn that look away as you began to back up towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

You turned your back to him as you continued down the hallway, your heartbeat accelerating with hot anticipation. Your hands moved down to the hemline of your skirt, starting to shimmy it off to tease him, when his words stopped you.

“Don’t take it off,” he said in a low, commanding tone. “I’m going to fuck you with that slutty little skirt on.”

You bit your lip as the words made your pussy throb, your hand raising to push open the door to your room when you reached it.

The light was off, but you didn’t move to turn it on, and neither did he. You moved in the dark, walking the familiar path to your bed with Joel on your heels, not even bothering to close the door behind you.

You wondered if he was trying to look around your room, but when you turned back to face him, his eyes were fixed solely on you. He watched as you sat on the edge of the bed, crawling backwards on the mattress in a way that made your skirt hitch up, and Joel’s breath audibly caught in his throat before he climbed on the bed after you.

He hovered over you as your head fell back against the pillows, and you found yourself marveling at how different this felt—so much more comfortable, so much more space to move—before his hands slid up your thighs under the skirt to brush against your panties.

Joel stopped, his fingers brushing along the lace edges of the panties, and you swear you saw his gaze flash dangerously in the dark as he stared down at you.

“You wore lace?” he groaned, his fingers curling around your thighs tight enough to bruise and, god, you hoped it did, as he leaned down closer to your face. “Really?”

You shrugged, a smirk growing on your lips as you watched his jealousy grow with sick satisfaction.

“I—”

You broke off, your eyes widening as the thought repeated in your mind, and you finally realized what this was, what Joel was acting off of.

Jealousy.

He was jealous.

This was what you had wanted—for whatever sinful, godforsaken reason—and it was actually happening

Apparently, Joel didn’t even catch that you were about to say something, instead busying himself with the task of pulling your panties down. The black, lacy fabric rolled down your legs, and he groaned at the sight of it brushing along your skin before he pulled it off completely.

“What, no ripping this time?” you found yourself teasing, your humor a deflection from the weight of what you had just realized, eyebrow arching in question before his next action made your eyes widen.

Joel balled the damp fabric up in his fist, pushing it into the pocket of his jeans, the bastard watching you with clear satisfaction as your hips lifted towards him subconsciously at the sight.

“Joel—”

“I should punish you, you know,” he murmured lowly, and you bit your lip, a pleasurable shiver running through you at the connotation behind the words as he began to push his jeans down his thighs. “For what you put me through tonight.”

You laughed breathlessly, brows lifting in surprise as you repeated, “What I put you through?”

Joel paused his movements, placing his hands on the mattress and leaning forward so his lips were beside your ear, his breath fanning against it as he murmured, “Do you have any idea how it felt? Seeing you from across the room, helpless to do anything but watch you smile and laugh so fucking easily at another man’s jokes?”

Your breathing became heavy, eyelids fluttering as that term—another man—appeared again.

There was the same jealousy in his words, yes, but something else; that new intense heat, and you placed your hand on Joel’s chest, fingers curling around the buttons of his flannel as you whispered breathlessly, “Joel—”

“Fucking hell—”

You paused as Joel cut you off with murmured curses, blinking out of your haze to look down, and you had to hold back a laugh as you saw Joel was struggling to get his jeans off, having forgotten in the haze of his drunken lust that his boots were still on.

“Shut up,” Joel muttered, sending a glare back at you as he had to roll off of you, pushing himself up to lean over and tug the laces on his boots until they were loose enough to pull off.

But you were already laughing, your cheeks hurting from the smile that your giggles pulled from you as his boots fell to the floor beside your bed, his jeans soon following.

“Stop it,” Joel muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, but a small smile was flickering on his own face as your amusement doubled at his exasperation.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between gasps for breath, wiping at a stray tear that was falling from your eye. “It just kinda ruined your whole dominant thing for a moment.”

Joel continued to glare at you, even with that small smile growing on his face as a few giggles continued to slip past your lips.

“Shut up,” he groaned again, pushing his boxers off to fall on the floor next, and the sight of his fully erect cock being freed from the fabric did effectively shut you up.

“Get on all fours,” he said roughly as he pushed himself up, and your skin heated further at the realization of how he planned to take you before you rolled onto your stomach.

You placed your palms against the sheets, pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees, listening with satisfaction as Joel groaned at the sight. The mattress shifted under his weight as he moved behind you, his hands pushing your skirt up until you were fully exposed, and this time he moaned, the sound long and shameless, just from seeing you like that.

At the unabashed sound of his desire, you bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, but you didn’t care at that moment. You were too focused on the way his hands slid over your hips, moving up to your ass to squeeze it before sliding back down to spread your thighs further apart.

Your hands reached up to grab onto the headboard as you felt Joel swipe his dick along your folds, collecting your wetness and making you moan with the sensation.

“That’s right,” Joel murmured, clearly pleased by your sounds of pleasure as he guided himself along your folds again, pushing past them so he rested against your entrance. “You’re going to be moaning my name tonight, darling. Not his. Mine.”

Maybe you would have said something clever in response to that, if it wasn’t for the way that Joel slammed into you without warning, all the way up to the hilt and making you cry out with the sudden fullness.

There was a bit of pain with the thrust, yes, and your grip tightened on the headboard as you focused on breathing through it. Joel didn’t move yet, instead leaning over you, his lips finding your ear as he whispered in a surprisingly soft voice, “You alright?”

Your breath caught at the intimacy of the question, something in your chest squeezing at the surprising comfort of it. You took another moment to breathe, waiting for your cunt to adjust to the size of him before nodding.

“Yeah,” you murmured, licking your lips as you nodded again. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel waited for another moment, his lips brushing against your ear in such a gentle way that it made you shiver, before he began to move.

His thrusts were slow at first, almost languid, and you moaned quietly at the feeling of his cock rolling in and out of you. Head tilted back, you began to roll your hips back to meet his thrusts, and Joel moaned, his hand sliding up your back until he grabbed your hair.

He wrapped it around his fist to pull your head back as he began to thrust harder, his other hand grabbing your hip underneath your skirt to hold you in place. Your room was quickly filled with the sound of your bed frame rocking against the wall along with skin slapping against skin, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air as Joel fucked you with a desperation, a feverish need that you had never experienced from him before.

You were moaning as he picked up the pace, lips parting with heavy pants as he leaned down, biting on your neck hard enough to draw another cry of pleasure from you.

“Say my name, darling,” he murmured after sucking on the mark he must have left on you. Joel’s hand tightened around your hair, pulling your head back further as his lips moved back to your ear. “My name. Mine.”

“Joel,” you gasped, your eyes falling shut as he bucked into you. A groan of satisfaction rumbled from his chest at the sound, and you continued to moan his name with each thrust, spurring him on to pick up the speed even more.

“Good girl,” he groaned, and you whined from the praise, panting heavily as he began to mumble almost to himself, “That’s right, mine. Mine. Mine.”

You could feel the shift in the meaning behind that word as he began to chant it. You could feel the possessiveness in the way he gripped your hip tighter, pulling you back to meet every hard thrust, and you whined loudly at the thought of it.

Being his.

“Oh god, Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, searching for friction that you desperately needed against your clit to get you climbing towards your high. “I need—”

Joel’s hand slipped from your hair, your head falling forward suddenly as he dropped it, and you nearly cried out again just from the pleasure of his fingers finally finding your clit. He knew exactly what you meant, exactly what you needed, expertly playing with you in a way only he knew how.

“Fuck, yes,” you gasped, losing any coherence as your back began to arch, the combination of his hard, steady thrusts with his fingers rubbing quickly against your clit hardly leaving you any time to breathe before your orgasm.

You couldn’t remember what had happened in that moment for the life of you, but you think you might have screamed when you reached your climax. Hell, you might have even screamed his name, but there was no way to know as you were helpless to do anything but ride the intense waves of pleasure as they rolled through you.

Your entire body trembled as you leaned heavily on your arms, trying desperately to keep yourself up as you felt Joel grab your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts as they became unsteady, and a tired smile grew on your face as you knew exactly what it meant.

“Joel—”

“Mine,” he interrupted you in a hoarse gasp, and whatever teasing words you were going to say died on your lips as he suddenly grabbed you, pulling you up so your back was pressed against his chest, his lips pressed to your ear as he groaned, “You’re mine.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your mouth falling open as you found yourself at a loss for how to respond, but you didn’t have to.

A moment later, Joel grunted loudly as he pulled out, his release coating your inner thighs. You stayed in his tight grip, pressed back against his chest as it rose and fell with heavy breaths that you could hear clearly from where his mouth was still pressed against your ear.

When his grip finally loosened on you, you slumped forward, collapsing onto your bed in the quivering mess that he had made you. Joel leaned forward, catching himself on his hand before falling onto his back next to you. He continued to try to catch his breath, and you did the same from where you turned to lay on your back.

You stared up at the ceiling, and even though it looked the same as always, it felt different.

This felt different.

Joel shifted beside you, and you half-expected him to be getting up to leave when you looked over at him. And, hell, maybe he was, but he froze the moment your gaze landed on the side of his face.

You let your eyes trail down his side profile for a moment, over his strong brow and the sharp slope of his nose, before you looked back up at his eyes, even as he stared stubbornly at the ceiling.

“What, no urge to run off into the night, cowboy?” you tried to tease, wincing when you felt how hoarse your throat was.

Jesus, how loud had you been?

“Do you want me to?”

Your attention was brought back to the man lying beside you at the words he drawled, your brow furrowing as you glanced over his face again. He was still staring at the ceiling, but when you remained silent, he finally turned his face slightly to glance down and catch your gaze.

Joel’s eyes searched yours, looking for an answer that you didn’t have.

When you offered none with your words either, and the two of you remained quietly lying next to each other for a moment, Joel pushed himself to the edge of the bed with a sigh. You watched his back as he leaned over to grab his boxers before you turned back to gaze at the ceiling again, so that you didn’t have to watch him as he got redressed.

Your chest tightened as you told yourself that you shouldn’t have let this happen. You shouldn’t have let him convince you to move into the bedroom.

This was a mistake.

Fucking hell, you had even stopped him from ki—

You closed your eyes, trying to block the world out as you heard the bed creak when he stood back up.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. You didn’t want him to run out into the night again, like this was a crime. Like he did something wrong.

Like you were wrong.

After he left the room, you turned onto your side, facing away from the spot that he had left.

I want you to still be able to look at me when the night’s over.

Your own words taunted you cruelly within the dark confines of your mind, and you took a deep breath in, trying to calm the emotions that started to rage inside your frame—begging to be freed, begging to be felt, for once.

The only thing that pulled you out of internally chastising yourself was the brush of rough fingers against your shoulder, and you looked back over that shoulder in surprise to see Joel staring down at you.

“Why the face?” Joel asked, his brow raised as he glanced over the poorly concealed shock on your face from the realization that he was still there. “What, you really thought I was running off?”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, trying and failing to find a response. Eventually you settled on your old, familiar crutch of dry humor.

“Well, you do have a bit of a track record.”

Joel snorted quietly, but he couldn’t argue with your point. Instead, he patted you gently on the leg and murmured, “Come on, turn over.”

A confused frown spread across your face, but you did as he asked, turning over to face him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Only when he lifted his hand did you finally notice the damp washcloth in it, and your breath caught in your throat as the warmth of the rag touched your thigh.

You stayed silent as Joel began to clean your legs. He kept focused on his task, as diligent as the time you had watched him clean blood and grime off your skin. You kept your gaze on his face, flickering over it as you tried to catch a glimpse into what he was thinking in that closed-off mind of his.

“Why did—”

“I don’t—”

You both stop abruptly as you had begun to speak at the same time, looking at each other in faint surprise before a laugh slips past your lips. It was almost a gentle sound, unlike any laughter you had had in a long time—if you ever did have laughter that sounded like that—and the furrow between Joel’s brow smoothed out at the sound of it.

He quickly looked back between your legs, finishing his task of diligently cleaning you up before he pulled the cloth away with a quiet huff.

“I don’t…” Joel tried to start again, rubbing a hand over the side of his face as he appeared to struggle to find the words. A rare sight from him, and you slowly sat up as you watched him finally find them, “I don’t know what came over me. I—”

He stopped again, moving his hand over his eyes to rub at them, and you chuckled quietly.

“You were drunk and horny,” you try to dismiss with a wave of your hand.

Of course, you didn’t know why exactly he had gotten drunk—even though you started to have a theory—but you decided not to pry.

In fact, you were trying to do the opposite of prying. You were trying to give him another out, an easy excuse to leave now and not look back.

Why did you always do that?

But when Joel finally looked back at you again, a look of determination in his eyes that you had grown to recognize from the man, you realized he wasn’t taking it again.

Why did he always do that?

“I just wanted to…” he trailed off, shifting awkwardly before finishing quietly, “...apologize, I guess.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that as surprise flooded you at the apology, quickly followed by confusion.

“Apologize for what?” you asked, shifting slightly so you were leaning closer, trying to catch his eye when he looked away again. “Joel, we do stuff like this all the time. It’s a kink. It’s hot. It’s not a big deal.”

While it was a kink, and it was hot, the possessiveness definitely was not something you did all the time.

And, in a way, that was a big deal. It dealt a blow to this strange relationship you had, shaking the foundation in a way nothing else had before.

This was new territory you were in. The grounds your relationship was on had shifted yet again.

You went on a date. Joel got jealous.

You had sex unlike any you had had before, in your bed.

It was the second rule you had broken in just under a week. The first rule of ‘only at night’ was broken when he had fingerfucked you that early morning a few days ago, and you didn’t even know what to make of that.

And now there was this. A blatant violation of your third, and arguably most important, rule.

Glancing over the way Joel’s face was scrunched up in thought right now, you guessed he didn’t know either.

But he wasn’t running away like he always did.

Neither were you.

And that…that meant something, somehow.

“It’s just…” Joel sighed, rubbing a hand along his thigh, and you looked at the scars on his knuckles that had begun to heal over again after he had rescued you. “You’re not a possession. Or a slut. You never were, even when we started…all this. And I—”

“Joel,” you interrupted with another laugh. It wasn’t a cruel laugh, but rather one of surprise, drawn out of you without a choice as you glanced over his face, realizing that it wasn’t scrunched up because he was just in thought.

It was because he was nervous.

Something in your heart warmed at the sight, and you quickly glanced down to fix your skirt so that you were completely covered up. You didn’t care if Joel saw you exposed like that—he’d seen it plenty of times before—but you were feeling almost…vulnerable in that moment, and you wanted to get rid of that unfamiliar emotion as quickly as you could.

“I know that,” you found yourself saying in a voice softer than you had known yourself capable of. Your face was still downcast, gaze fixed on your skirt as your fingers played with the hem. “I mean, I know you know that. It’s not—”

You sighed, brushing a hand through your hair, pulling away from the strands in mounting frustration as your fingers got caught in the tangles Joel had caused from grabbing it.

“It’s not a big deal,” you finally repeated quietly, twisting your hands in your lap, avoiding Joel’s gaze as you finally felt it focus on you.

For one moment, you were both silent in the darkness of your bedroom, Joel watching you as you avoided his gaze.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that.”

Joel’s quiet remark pierced the stillness, his words finally pulling your face up to glance at him in surprise. He wasn't just talking about tonight—he was referring to the moment you hadn't dared to talk about, when you had treated his injuries.

“Is it true?” he murmurs the question, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

The brown depth of his gaze was shining in the moonlight that filtered through the cracks in your curtains, and your breath caught in your throat.

Different answers, different excuses, began to race through your mind. You tried to settle on a reply, but none felt right. None of them felt enough like the truth or a convincing enough lie.

So eventually, your mouth opens to admit in a hushed tone, “I don’t know.”

Joel’s gaze searched yours, but for what, you didn’t know. When he glanced away, you wondered if he had found it, or if he had given up trying.

“I don’t know either,” he replied just as quietly after a moment of you wondering, and your heart thumped in your chest loudly before your gaze darted away from him.

While you remained quiet, your mind was racing so quickly you almost felt dizzy with the thoughts rampaging through it. Most of them were incoherent, a mashup of many colorful curse words directed towards both him and yourself.

When you felt the heat on your face, you lifted up your hand, pressing the back of it to your cheek to feel the warmth there. You rubbed at it subtly, trying to get the blush to go away, even as you knew you were probably just making it worse.

Clearing your throat, you turned back to say something to Joel, to try and brush it all under the rug like you usually did. But you found yourself at a loss for words, your heart leaping into your throat as you saw he had already been looking at you.

You swore in your mind again, mortified that he may have been watching you the whole time during your inner panic.

“Can we just—” you stop with a sigh, throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation before trying to find the words again, “can we just move on from this? Like—”

You cut yourself off again, shifting on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as you avoided his gaze.

“Like nothing ever happened?”

You turn back at his offer, relieved that he had found the words that had escaped you. A sigh of relief escapes you, and you nod, even as your arms tightened across your chest.

Even as a part of you wanted him to say no.

Joel opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I can swear at you, if you like,” you finally found your snark again, leaning heavily into the defense mechanism as you let a smirk cross onto your face. “We can have a huge argument, watch it all blow up in our faces. That would make it easier, wouldn’t it—”

The words died in your throat, your breath leaving you in a surprised rush as Joel reached out to you.

He brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek—gently, more gentle than you would have ever expected him capable of, at least with you—before he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know,” Joel murmured again.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, against the scar that lay there, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes searching yours, his gaze almost…uncertain.

For a moment, you wondered if he was going to do something…more. You didn’t know what, exactly, but it caused your heart to thump in your chest as your gaze locked with his.

Joel's hand twitched, his rough, large palm grazing against your cheek, as if he was going to lay it there.

Then he pulled back before it could happen.

The silence that fell was not as tense or awkward as those that had fallen between you before.

But it was something different.

Fragile, you realized silently as Joel shifted, his eyes still locked with yours—still as wide, still as haunted by things unspoken.

It was fragile.

When you finally looked away from him, you did it slowly, as if not to shatter this delicate moment you had both found yourself in. You cleared your throat gently, grabbing the fabric of your skirt tightly as you searched for what to say now.

What the fuck could you say now?

“I, uh…” Joel cleared his throat, shifting to face away from you. “I guess I should go.”

You swallowed thickly, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind that began to chant a single word quietly in response.

But it wasn’t a thought you could acknowledge consciously—at least, not yet—so you found yourself nodding instead.

“Yeah,” you murmured, unclenching your fist to smooth out your skirt in your lap. “Yeah, probably.”

Still, Joel paused for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for something.

Waiting for you to say something.

But you didn’t, and so he leaned over to grab his boots from where he had discarded them, pulling them back on before slowly rising to his feet.

Your eyes flashed to him as he walked away, his back to you as you watched him exit the room.

You listened closely to his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

You brushed your fingers across your cheek, tracing the movement his own fingers had made as you heard him sigh in the kitchen before the back door quietly closed behind him.

Finally, you collapsed against your pillows, staring back up at the ceiling the same way you had before.

But again, it was different.

So different.

Your fingers danced over your cheek again, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself believe that maybe you hadn’t both fucked it up for good this time.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel x f!reader #a stranger's heart series

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weevil-wallflower · 6 months ago

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Touch

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: While away on a mission, Cal couldn't help but yearn for your touch.

Warnings/Tags: No warnings, SFW, no use of Y/N, no pronouns used, can be interpreted as gender-neutral, established relationships, during/post-Jedi: Survivor, no spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: My first entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! It follows the Day 1 prompt 'Touch'. I'm hoping to do one for all seven days but with work and studies, I shall see ;3 Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~600

Separated by the vast expanse of the galaxy, Cal Kestis found himself on a mission in the heart of Coruscant while his thoughts lingered on You, his beloved. Among the hustle-bustle of the city planet, his heart ached for the warmth of your touch.

While the redhead walked through the labyrinth-like streets, his mind constantly drifted to the memories of the tender moments you both had together. He missed the feeling of your hand in his, the soft stroke of your fingers against his cheek—which would be often followed up by your sweet words of admiration for his beard. He longed for your comforting embrace that grounded him in times of uncertainty.

Despite the skepticism of his companions—rebels who accompanied him to the mission, and ones who assumed that thoughts of his beloved would distract him from their mission, Cal discovered that the opposite was true; The memory of your touch only strengthened his motivation and propelling him to succeed in his mission, knowing that with each victory, he got closer to the moment when he could hold You once again.

With each passing moment, Cal’s yearning grew stronger, his desire to hold You in his arms overwhelming. He closed his eyes, willing himself to feel your presence, to imagine the sensation of your touch even from across the galaxy.

In the quiet moments between missions, Cal stole fleeting glances at his holocommunicator, wanting to send You a message but unable to find the time to do so during the stressful missions. The distance between you both often felt overwhelming, but he found comfort in the knowledge that the bond he shared with You transcended physical distance.

During a rare moment of respite, Cal sat alone in the cheap, dingy motel room—his temporary quarters while he stayed in Coruscant. He paid his gloomy environment no mind as his thoughts were occupied with You. With a deep breath, the Jedi activated his holocommunicator, your holographic image appearing before him after a few seconds.

“Cal!” You immediately greeted him with a bright smile. “I wasn’t sure when would be the right time to call you cause I didn’t want to distract you from your mission… So, I’ve been waiting for your call instead…” There was an apologetic look in your eyes. “I’m so happy to hear from you. How are you holding up?”

Hearing your sweet voice provided some relief from his stressful mission, like a soothing melody among the chaos, bringing a sense of peace to his tired soul. “My love…” he began, his voice full of longing. “I miss you. I miss your touch.”

In response, your expression softened and your eyes filled with understanding. “I miss you too, Cal,” You replied, your voice gentle and reassuring. “But remember, no matter where you are, my love for you remains unchanged. We’ll be together again very soon. I can’t wait to have you back in my arms, and I’ll make sure to cook all your favourite meals when you’re back. I know you barely feed yourself while you’re out on missions.”

Cal chuckled softly at your playful jab about his poor eating habits. “You know me too well, my love,” he said fondly. “I’m already counting down the days until I can enjoy your cooking again— among other things, of course.”

As you both spoke through the night, your words provided him with the warmth he desperately needed, soothing his restless heart. And in that moment, despite the distance between them, Cal found solace in the knowledge that the love you both shared was unwavering and your bond unbreakable, even in the absence of physical touch.

#calkestisweek2024 #Day 1: Touch #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order #star wars jedi survivor #star wars #minor angst #hurt/comfort #pining #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #🥀 wallflower writes

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chronicroderick · 10 months ago

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Old Games

Hannibal has been manipulative because he's bored and provokes Will into taking matters into his own hands.

Shameless Smut, Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Consensual Violence, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, Scarification, Canon Typical Toxicity, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Wound Fingering, Post-Fall

Old Games on Ao3

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Will was beating the shit out of him, and God, was Hannibal rock hard. This was no fantasy, though there had been many times when it was. This was real, flesh on flesh, knuckles digging into his cheek bones, causing his teeth to clack with each blow. How strong Will was. How resilient those hands were. That was the only thing going through his mind as he tasted his own blood in his mouth.

Hannibal had been more shrewd than usual lately. Picking at Will, second guessing him, even when it was not necessary. Was he sure that he could pick the freshest vegetables from the grocery store? Did he turn the water off completely after washing his face before bed? Was every one of his little mongrel dogs accounted for or did he leave one outside? Will had never forgotten one of his pets, but there was ‘a first time for everything’. Besides his contrariness, the two men had lived the closest thing to domestic bliss that either one of them had ever experienced, even before the fall.

Here they were, off the coast of some Greek island – Will wanted to settle somewhere that was new to the both of them – in a home built from the ground up. It was adobe, white to match the local buildings, set a great distance from any other living soul on a modest cut of land. They had a fenced in garden, expansive, and they had dogs. They would occasionally take day trips to the large islands and scout for new sources of meat. Will went fishing almost every morning and Hannibal would join him, sitting on the shore, reading a book, every now and then glancing up from his page to gaze at his lover who floated far away on his canoe. They should be happy. He didn’t feel happy. He felt bored.

So here he was, flat on his back, Will sitting on his stomach, while those strong fisherman’s hands smashed his face to a bloody pulp. The flames of pain caressed him, cut through him, searing in the cut on his eyebrow now, down into his skull and his brain. A tightness twisting low in his gut. What had he said? Oh, yes.

“Where else would I go?” Will had piped up while Hannibal was chopping carrots.

“What was that, my love?”

“Don’t ‘my love’, me, Hannibal.”

He was only Hannibal when he had done something wrong.

“You think I’m afraid you wish to be somewhere else. You betrayed the FBI for me, Will. We have killed together. We ran away together. As far as I am concerned we are an inseparable pair and I do not understand why you are so paranoid about these things.”

Will stood from where he leaned against the island in the middle of the room and walked up next to him, one hip against the counter and arms crossed over his chest. Hannibal stilled his hands and looked at Will with a warm smile that he knew would infuriate him.

Will frowned, “If you keep playing the fool I’m going to lose my temper.”

A thrill ran down Hannibal’s spine at the threat. At a degree in which he had not felt in a very long time.

“What part do you wish me to play then?” He tilted his head, smile still on his face, fingers curling ever so slightly tighter around the chef’s knife.

Will narrowed his eyes, purposefully keeping them off of the weapon, those ocean blue rings raging darkly behind his glasses. He was so beautiful when he was angry. So stimulating.

“You’ve been toying lately. Undermining me. Eroding.”

This was dangerous territory. Before Hannibal had started picking at Will’s scabs, they had had many heartfelt conversations, one of which included the brunette expressing his fear that his thoughts and actions were not his own, even after all this time. He had soothed him then. He did not feel like soothing him now.

“You speak of me like some spurned housewife.”

“You don’t deny it.” There was an edge to Will’s voice.

“What reason would I have to do such a thing? We are long past the game of cat and mouse,” He turned away, chopping the rest of the carrot, with a dismissive tone, “really, you’re quite the by product of your post traumatic stress, you should quit—”

“Don’t.” Will interpreted, and Hannibal could almost hear his knuckles creak as he formed a fist.

He smiled to himself, knowing full well how it would be interpreted, “Being so paranoid, my love.”

To say the blow came out of nowhere would be a lie, but he had underestimated the hatred behind it, fueling its power, as it caught him across the side of the face. It gave him a headache immediately, Hannibal instinctually switching his grip on the knife, blade pointed down, but Will knew him well. He could feel the calluses against his forearm as his wrist was smashed into the stone countertop with enough force to send shooting nerve pain up his arm, the knife falling from his hand.

Hannibal growled, half anger at being surprised and half pleasure, his other hand coming up to grab Will by the throat, fingers digging into the sides of his neck and pushing the man backwards until his back slammed against the refrigerator. Will’s left hand still held Hannibal’s arm, but his right arm came up, elbow crashing down on Hannibal’s arm, breaking his grip on the other man’s throat. He was feral, unpredictable and blind to the admiration in Hannibal’s gaze as he threw all of his weight into his shoulder and lunged like a football player, tackling Hannibal to the ground.

His head hit the wood floor with a hard knock, dazing him slightly, but his lover did not let the moment go to waste. He felt the weight of Will on his stomach, knees pinning down his out flung arms as they painfully crushed his elbows. His nose crunched with the second punch that was thrown his way, the third surely would have broken it as well, were it not already broken. Will was saying something, something hard to make out over the sound of the blood rushing in Hannibal’s ears and the ringing of his head injury.

“... paranoid. After all those years of manipulating me. Here I am. Here I am.”

Planting his feet, he attempted to buck Will off him, giving himself a chance to roll over, but the moment his weight shifted, he got a swift blow to the eye socket. It was mean enough to cut his eyebrow open, blood pooling at the corner of his eye like a great well of tears, and sloppy enough that it could have caused serious optic damage. The severity of the situation dawned on him. His cock twitched.

“Will –”

There was no reply, only another blow to the face. They rained down on him now, one after the other. He did not fight, did not even struggle. He took in a ragged breath, smothered with arousal, determined to take in every detail of this moment with all five senses. All of Will’s pain and rage washed over him. He could feel the way his skin tore apart, ragged, under the force of Will’s hands. It was delicious to know that he was the cause of such strong emotions. He could hear Will’s heavy breathing, hitching slightly when he exerted himself. It was him, Hannibal, that had so much influence in Will’s life. No one else. He smiled, his lip split in two places, and it felt like being cut with a razor blade as the skin stretched over his teeth. His brown eyes twinkled up at Will, taking in the sight of his bloody knuckles, unsure if it was just his blood. Hoping it was both of theirs. The idea blew his pupils wide. Will’s features darkened and he grabbed Hannibal by the collar of his shirt, before bashing his head into the floor over and over.

“I gave up everything for you! You don’t get to play games anymore.”

He was disappointed that Will had not positioned himself on his lap, for his cock stood at full attention, the inside of his boxers damp with a spot of precum. How ruthless his lover was. Hannibal wished to grind himself against him, while those well trained hands gripped him by the hair, guiding his lucid head to look up. There was a constant throbbing in the back of his skull, his hair plastered to his head with a thick, wet warmth. The kitchen stank of blood, or maybe it was just everything that was pouring out of his nose. When he saw Will’s hard features searching his face, he was filled with a sense of certainty that this was what their victims saw before death overtook them, and need cut through him. Will’s eyes narrowed, which was no surprise, he could read Hannibal like no other.

“You’re hard right now.” He stated disapprovingly.

“I am.” Hannibal replied, blood staining his teeth pink as he smiled.

“You’re not mad at me,” Will blinked once.

“I am not.”

When Will only silently leaned back, removing the weight of his knees from Hannibal’s elbows, he was afraid their altercation would yield no sexual satisfaction.

“Mylimasis,” He whispered, flecks of his blood spraying across Will’s face as he spoke, “do you not find the spark of our old games as exciting as I do?”

Will scoffed, but the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, “You goaded me because you miss getting off to our rivalry?”

“I miss when you were not a domestic animal, Will Graham.”

He could not hide the truth of his words, dismay hitting him like a freight train as he saw the way they made Will’s face twist. As he opened his mouth to explain himself, a hand closed over it, smelling strongly of sweat and blood.

“Not a word.” Will said monotonically.

When he was sure Hannibal would not speak, he removed it, and scooted his hips backwards until he sat right on top of Hannibal’s clothed dick. This made him sigh, the pressure bringing relief, but in return Will slapped him hard enough to turn his cheek red. He gave Will a surprised look and the other man only frowned.

“No sounds either.”

They could both feel the way Hannibal’s cock twitched against Will’s ass. He nodded, just barely, maintaining searing eye contact with Will who was cold as ice. Will began moving his hips back and forth, grinding down on Hannibal who bucked his hips up against him eagerly. He needed to feel more, so much more. His nose ached, the pain pulsing out into the rest of his face as his heartbeat quickened. Will’s hard on was evident, the outline of it visible against his pants, Hannibal eyed it hungrily. His tongue dashed out, wetting his lips, playing over the cuts on them, as he watched Will’s body move above his. He looked glorious, all dark curls and severe jawline, his skin coral and cream as he palmed himself over his clothes. His blue eyes caught sight of the ministrations of Hannibal’s tongue and he leaned down, their dicks rubbing together as he licked one of the cut’s on Hannibal’s lips. The sensation made Hannibal’s hole clench, his eyes fluttered shut as Will lapped up the blood from the second cut. He hissed when he felt Will’s teeth sink into his lip, fresh blood flooding his mouth from the open wound, and because he made a noise Will bit harder, creating puncture wounds and ripping it open more. Will ground his cock against Hannibal, relentlessly dry humping as he kissed him. All Hannibal could taste was his own blood, it was electric, swirling around his mouth on the vessel of Will’s tongue. Will’s lips tasted metallic, soft yet unyielding, Hannibal licked at the back of his teeth, rubbing his tongue over the other man’s with a clear desperation. Will pulled back, got off of his lap, then undid his belt.

Hannibal followed suit, shoving his pants down without a word, his cock springing free. Will didn’t look at him, he only tugged his own pants and underwear off over his shoes, and flung them to the side. Hannibal felt like his excitement was visible to the naked eye, the way the scent of his blood flooded his senses, his skull pounding in time with the rushing in his veins, the thick swallow he had to take every couple seconds, it all stoked his desire, the object of which now crouched over him, hovering just above his aching cock. He looked down at himself, saw how stiff his dick was, flushed pink, thick and sure to spread Will open like many times before. He almost whined like a dog when his lover gently lowered himself, his hole squeezing his tip over and over, precum slicking the entrance. Then the sensation was gone, Will was standing over him now, looking down with that cutting gaze.

“Will?” Hannibal protested the lack of contact.

Shaking his head, Will’s hand wandered the counter, in search of something out of Hannibal’s line of sight.

“You want the delight of carnage. I'll oblige.”

The blade of a knife glinted in the sunlight that came through the window as Will inspected it, surely for Hannibal’s benefit. It was lean, one they often used to filet seafood. His cock jerked and he wiggled his loosened front tooth with his tongue.

“It seems you almost knocked my tooth out, my love.” He tried to hide the elation in his voice as he once again spoke out of turn.

Will fell to his knees, straddling Hannibal once again, their bare dicks rubbing together as he worked the tip of the knife into the small crevice of tender flesh between his collarbone and his shoulder. Hannibal closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He tried not to think about the hole that was cut in his shirt. Will twisted the knife as if he was lazily trying to start a fire, tearing more fabric and skin. It made his head spin. When he did not respond, Will pushed slightly harder, until a half inch of stainless steel was inside him. He could feel the warmth of his blood welling up around the tip. Felt the warmth of it pooling into his clothes.

“You could cause serious nerve damage if you're unfamiliar with what you're attempting.” Hannibal chimed clinically.

“Enjoying being a brat, are we?” Will purred, gently pulling the blade towards him, cutting Hannibal at such a slow pace it was ripping more than slicing.

The blue eyed man hummed happily as Hannibal bucked his hips, their cocks sliding over one another, his precum wetting his own happy trail. Will moved on, tracing the knife lightly over Hannibal’s chest, poking and prodding every now and then until he settled just below his belly button. Hannibal watched the entire time, never taking his eyes off those brilliant hands as Will gripped the hem of his shirt and cut it in one long go right up the middle, as if he was being gutted. The fabric fell open, revealing his chest and stomach that already had a few red marks, and Will pushed it out of the way, ghosting his fingers through Hannibal’s chest hair. He rubbed his hips teasingly, cock brushing back and forth against Hannibal’s, resting all his weight on the hand in the center of the older man’s chest. Holding him down. Hannibal could feel his heartbeat thumping against Will’s palm. With the knife in the crook of the L of his thumb and forefinger, directly over Hannibal’s heart, Will applied pressure, the sharp bite of which bloomed outwards.

“Put it in.” It wasn't a demand or a question, it was like Will was observing the weather or their horoscopes.

He was more than happy to obey, grabbing hold of himself, resisting the urge to pump his cock, and lined it up with Will’s hole. Not a moment after his tip brushed the man’s ass did his lover sit himself onto it, slowly taking his cock, never taking his eyes off Hannibal’s face nor the knife off his chest. Instead, the more length he took, the deeper he drove the blade into Hannibal’s sternum. It was overwhelming.

“Penetrating me as I penetrate you?” He quipped. This was all part of it. Will knew he could never resist a chance to prove he would be willing to take things further than Will would.

In response Will cut into him. It wasn't hesitant or jerky, it was almost surgical. Deep enough for blood to spill immediately, but shallow enough that Hannibal was not afraid for his life. It hurt, it made him tense involuntarily as the knife made its way down his chest, leaving a burning crimson trail behind. All while his cock was slowly buried to the hilt inside the other man. He groaned, not trying to be a smartass, as Will began moving up and down, but was punished for his transgression anyways when the knife sunk deeper. The scarring would be unavoidable at this point. Hannibal ground his teeth together to keep from speaking, grabbed Will by the hips and helped him ride faster. His dick was being squeezed so tight, pumping in and out of Will’s hole as he watched the brunette’s cock bounce with every thrust. He pounded up into Will, hips snapping against the bottom of his ass. His passion made the work of the knife unsteady, dipping deeper and shallower with no design at all, the line Will was creating winding ever so slightly like a river down to just above his belly button. Hannibal could feel drops of blood cascading down his belly towards his ribs. Will moaned above him, clenching down on his dick, then ran two shaky fingers up the wound he had just inflicted, never slowing down, Hannibal violent in his thrusts that made every curl on Will’s head bob.

Will brought the two fingers up to his pink lips, dark pupils trained on Hannibal’s face as Will sucked on his middle and index finger. He pulled them out clean, except for the faint ring of red that was like lipstick around the second knuckles. Hannibal’s eyes narrowed with lust and he grabbed the hilt of the knife in Will’s hand, at first the other man resisted letting go, but when he slowed down in his thrusts, emphasizing his sincerity, Will relented. Hannibal took the weapon slowly out of his lover’s hand, Will was doing all the work with his hips now, and the salt and pepper haired man turned the blade on himself, tip pressed firmly to his stomach. With a small smile and a slow blink, jittery from the heat engulfing his dick, he stuck the end in his abdomen, somewhere he knew wouldn't be vital if he had gone deep enough for that to even matter. It made him gasp and he was so close to the edge now, but he wasn't finished. Hannibal dropped the knife, grabbed Will's hand firmly, splayed out his fingers, then pushed one of them greedily inside the wound. It made him shudder, meeting the pace of Will’s hips now, feeling the tip of his finger inside the cut sent stripes of ecstasy straight to his dick. Pumping himself in and out of Will, while Will pushed his finger deeper into his skin, Hannibal stroked the man’s cock, admiring the slight bend in it and the feeling of precum slicking the inside of his hand. Both of them were covered in a sheen of sweat and blood on the kitchen floor. He felt like an animal. He felt alive.

“This is what you wanted?” Will asked, words punctuated by small gasps.

Hannibal nodded, racing to the end, all fervor and fire. Slamming up into his Will. His Will. He would bleed only for this man. He would hold all of his beloved 's rage. He was made to bear any pain his lover put his way. Hannibal’s thoughts were becoming less linear. Will was panting, surely his legs burned, his dick twitching in Hannibal’s uncoordinated grasp, until finally he came. Seed shot onto Hannibal’s chest, mingling with his blood. The feeling made Hannibal climax too, unloading inside Will with a stifled moan. He couldn't take it. He sat up without thinking, grabbed Will behind the shoulders and sank his teeth into the crook of his neck. Will cried out, but didn't push him away. He bit deeper, Will’s hole milking his cock of every last drop of cum, his wounds throbbing and burning and flooding his body, his lover’s cum making a warm, slow trail down his stomach into the deep cuts. He might need stitches. Biting deeper. Will would be bruised. They'd have to set his nose. He did not break the brunette's delicate skin.

They sat like that on the floor, Hannibal’s teeth in his neck, Will’s trembling thighs straddling his waist. Hannibal pulled back, still ensnaring Will in his grasp and looked into his eyes. They seemed bright, normal, better than the storm he had cultivated for the last few weeks. He kissed his nose and brought him into a hug. Will sighed and rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Their breathing slowed. Their heartbeats turned to normal, almost in sync. It would be enough. It already was.

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I am so incredibly upset because I couldn't find the gif of fantasy Hannibal smiling on the ground as Will beats him :'( EDIT: I FOUND IT YAHOO

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