#not to air out my grievances or anything

[mann-gegen-mann-in-real-life]

In 2025, people who don't identify as male in any form who go into gay men's spaces and start pulling the "ew men" schtick get asked to leave. Like why are you even here?

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂

[dreamertrilogys]

PEACH GONE AGAIN?3?5$28;!!3!4 killing myself

[parkeryangs]

trgedy has struck (no matt in the new wbg)

[halfvalid]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you. 

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal. 

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew. 

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue. 

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom. 

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement. 

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?” 

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?” 

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!” 

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.” 

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.” 

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing. 

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market. 

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?” 

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.” 

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.” 

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.” 

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth. 

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked. 

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.” 

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade. 

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.” 

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.” 

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—” 

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.” 

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?” 

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back. 

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.” 

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look. 

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?” 

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes. 

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!” 

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back. 

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t just—” 

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him. 

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position. 

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store. 

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face. 

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—” 

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart. 

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now. 

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.” 

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think. 

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this. 

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe. 

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat. 

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh. 

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” 

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?” 

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.” 

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would. 

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly. 

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point. 

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with. 

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more. 

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development. 

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.” 

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him. 

“I am not.” 

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.” 

“Leave me alone,” you muttered. 

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.” 

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?” 

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.” 

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed. 

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.” 

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.” 

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?” 

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.” 

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.” 

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered. 

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue. 

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises. 

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit. 

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured. 

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered. 

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you. 

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth. 

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back. 

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation. 

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?” 

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.” 

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours. 

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.” 

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember. 

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties. 

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered. 

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.” 

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length. 

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point. 

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss. 

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge. 

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite. 

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him. 

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning. 

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side. 

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.” 

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it. 

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage. 

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.” 

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that. 

© halfvalid 2023

[sturniolospumpkin]

matt’s — m.s. & c.s.

part four

(part one // part two // part three)

pairings: bf!matt x gf!reader x chris

summary: after last night’s events, you and matt have a conversation with chris.

warnings: MDNI. contains smut, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation, squirting, crying, angst.

disclaimers: this is all fiction. obviously the triplets are not like this in real life, these are just fics i write out of boredom. please do not republish my work as your own, and please credit me if using my writing as inspo <3

the unmistakable squeak of matt’s door pulls you from your sleep. turning to the other side of the bed, your eyes land on a shirtless matt, clad only in a pair of grey sweatpants. you watch as he quietly places a glass of water on his nightstand, still unaware that you’re awake.

“matty?” you croak, eyes squinted as you adjust to the bright sunlight that peaks through the windows.

his gentle eyes flicker to you, a soft smile appearing on his tired face.

“morning baby.” he greets, voice raspy as he climbs into the bed, pulling you into his warm chest.

his fingers along trace your back soothingly as he hugs you, placing a kiss on your forehead before resting his chin atop your head.

“did you sleep okay?” his raspy morning voice is low.

“mhm” you hum, still groggy as you nuzzle your head into his chest.

silence fills the room after you answer. your head moves with the rise and fall of his chest as he rubs your back. he’s so soft, so warm, but his embrace around you grows tighter, until eventually he’s clutching you for dear life. the silence persists, but he doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s saying.

“do you wanna talk about it? last night?” matt mutters after a few minutes.

“um—i— i dont know.” you stutter, throat suddenly going dry.

“we don’t have to. i just— i just want to make sure we’re okay. yesterday was a lot. i hurt you, and i understand if you’re upset with me.” matt explains as the memories of the previous night flood your brain.

you hesitate for a moment, unsure if you want to air your grievances, but matt’s soft touch on your back reminds you that you’re safe.

“i’ve just never seen you so— angry” you start, voice barely above a whisper, “like you hated me, like i was nothing to you. it was scary.”

matt lets out a shaky breath, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“i know baby, i know. i’m so sorry, so fucking sorry for treating you like that. i could never hate you okay?” voice cracking as he speaks. “i didn’t mean any of that awful shit i said to you. i’m so sorry princess.”

you nod your head in his chest, trying to accept his words, but there’s one other memory from last night that you can’t quite shake.

“and then you just left. i thought you were going to break up with me. i thought i lost you.” you squeak.

“im so sorry baby, i really fucked up. but i will never leave you, okay? you will never lose me. i can’t apologize enough for even putting that fear in your head.” he sighs, pulling you back from his chest.

his teary eyes meet yours, pleading not for forgiveness, but for belief. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him immediately, and he didn’t expect you too, but he couldn’t stand the thought of losing your trust.

“okay.” you respond, feeling reassured by his words. you know he’s being genuine— matt has never lied to you.

“i love you more than anything y/n.” he whispers, “you are my everything. i’m sorry i made you feel any less than that. i don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, i just need you to know that it’ll never happen again.”

“i know matty, i love you too.” you nod.

“and i meant what i said— about you and chris.” he adds, “if that’s what you want still.”

you nod your head slowly, taking in the weight of his words, “are you sure? you aren’t just saying this because of what happened last night?”

“i’m sure. i wouldn’t lie to you baby. especially about you dating my brother.” he chuckles attempting to lighten the mood, eyes still fixed on yours.

“i don’t need to have both of you though. you know you’re more than enough for me matty.” you explain.

and you genuinely meant it. you would be more than happy with just matt for the rest of your life if that’s what the future held. he’s everything you could ask for in a partner. but he and chris complimented each other so well—no—complimented you so well. the dynamic between you and them was something you didn’t want to give up, but you would if you had to.

“i know you don’t need both of us, but you want both of us— and you deserve whatever you want. you have no clue how deserving you are baby. i mean it when i say i’d do anything for you.” matt tells you.

the room falls silent again.

“i don’t wanna hurt you though.” you whisper, “it’s not really fair to you.”

matt let’s out a soft chuckle, “baby you’re not hurting me. nothing would change really. chris already spends most of his time with us, and you guys have already had sex. it doesn’t mean less for me, it just means more for you, and more for him. it’s entirely your decision baby—i’ll be happy as long as i have you. i just want you to be happy and not hide your feelings from me because you’re afraid it’ll hurt me.”

your eyes are locked on each others as you take in his words, and then you feel it—tears flowing down your face.

“baby what’s wrong? please— i didn’t mean to make you cry.” matt shushes you, voice laced with concern.

but they aren’t tears of sadness, they’re tears of relief. you had been so worried about hurting matt, or chris for that matter. the feeling had weighed heavily on you since the day had sex with them both. you were terrified of what having to pick between them would mean for the three of you. but matt’s words send the fear and anxiety out of your body, leaving only gratitude as you bury your head in his chest, clinging to him tightly.

“i just love you so much. i don’t know how i got so lucky.” you cry.

“i ask myself the same thing.” matt chuckles, “you know i’m gonna love you forever right?”

you nod your head before responding, “i love you forever too matty.”

“y’wanna go talk to chris?” he asks.

“chris, you up?” matt follows his question with a few knocks on chris’s bedroom door.

there’s no response on the other side of the door, and for a moment you wonder if he’s even awake. the two of you exchange a glance before the door suddenly opens, revealing a disheveled chris. his eyes are puffy and bloodshot—he’s been crying. his gaze finds you first, lingering for only a second before shifting to his brother.

“yeah?” chris’s voice is hoarse.

“can we talk? all of us?” matt gestures between the three of you.

chris’s eyes go wide, shooting you a worried glance before giving matt a hesitant nod. he turns around, taking a seat in his desk chair as you and matt make your way over to sit on his bed. the room is nearly silent, only the sound of chris’s leg bouncing on the floor—a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed—fills the room. his eyes dart between you and his brother as he gnaws at his lip. you want to tell him that everything is fine, but you yourself are too nervous to speak.

“you were right, we need to establish some uh— boundaries going forward.” matt’s voice pulls your attention.

“what?” chris questions.

“boundaries? like y’know, what lines can and can’t be crossed.” matt clarifies.

“no—i mean, i know what boundaries are,” chris shakes his head, eyes landing on yours, “but, i mean—you want to—matt you’re saying you’re okay with—” chris struggles to form a coherent sentence, letting out a shaky sigh.

“go ahead baby, tell him.” matt gives you a reassuring nod.

you’re suddenly aware of how fast your heart is beating, and how sweaty your palms are. you try to compose yourself under their gazes, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“i want both of you.” you blurt out, voice so quiet you aren’t even sure chris heard you.

you watch his face contort, brows furrowing and head tilting in confusion, until it all clicks for him. his mouth falls open, eyes widening, and you swear you catch a small smirk start to form before he shakes his head.

“what do you mean?” chris asks.

“i have feelings for matt, and for you.” you respond, voice a little louder this time.

“so when you say you want us, you mean like—” he pauses, eyebrows raised at you.

you nod, “i wanna be with you both. if you’d be okay with it.”

“and you’re okay with this?” chris asks his brother in disbelief, considering his actions less than 24 hours ago.

“as long as there are boundaries.” matt nods.

“jesus christtttt” chris draws, a hand running through his hair as he leans back in his chair, eyes trained on the ceiling, “thought you were coming in here to tell me to move out and never speak to you again.”

chris sits back up, eyes shifting between you and his brother before locking on matt.

“and instead you’re telling me the best news of my life.” chris smiles before letting out a chuckle, “you need to work on your delivery.”

“so you have feelings for me too?” you squeak, heat rising to your cheeks.

“sweetheart,” chris practically scoffs before standing up and walking over to where you and his brother sit.

he reaches a hand out to touch you, but abruptly stops himself, remembering what matt said about boundaries. he didn’t want to cross a line before even starting.

“you already know the answer to that. i’ve had feelings for you since the day i met you—sorry matt.” chris confesses.

“hard to blame ya’.” matt shrugs, flashing you a quick smile.

“so what sort of boundaries?” chris’s question is directed at matt, but his eyes stay on yours.

“i don’t know exactly, i think we all just need to be on the same page and communicate. and if we think this is ruining shit between us, we all agree to go back to how things were before?” matt suggests, pulling a nod from you and chris.

but your heart stings at his last sentence for a reason you can’t entirely understand. it’s not like being with matt wasn’t enough, or that you weren’t happy with him.

“so you don’t care if we’re alone together?” chris presses, needing reassurance that something like last night won’t happen again.

“chris she’s just as much your girl as she is mine. as long as she’s okay with it, we can share her.” matt looks to you for approval, to which you nod.

chris exhales, burying his face in his hands as he tries to process the conversation. he quickly picks his head up, turning to meet your eyes.

“my girl” he mumbles to himself with a smile, eyes shifting to his brother,“you know how fucking insane this is right?”

“yeah,” matt sighs, “you telling me you don’t want her though?”

“you kidding? c’mere sweetheart.” chris pats his lap for you to sit.

you happily oblige, plopping yourself in his lap, legs hanging over his. his hand finds your lower back, rubbing gentle circles.

“you sure you want this?” chris asks softly, his eyes flickering to your lips.

your eyes shift to matt, seeking his reassurance once more. he gives you a nod, his smile soft and genuine. you can’t deny your nerves though. your mind spins at the thought of everything that could go wrong. but you also can’t deny your feelings. you want them both— you love them both. so you nod your head.

“words sweetheart?” chris requests.

“i’m sure. if that’s okay?” you respond.

“more than okay.” chris chuckles before connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

it’s the first time you’ve kissed him since the night you slept with him. this kiss is much more brief, but just as passionate. chris pulls away only moments later, prompting matt to speak again.

“i think i owe her an apology for last night, you wanna help me out?” matt smirks, your heart racing in anticipation.

“fuck yeah” chris nods breathlessly, pupils blown with lust.

“sit her up against the headboard with you.” matt directs his brother.

chris taps your hip gently, signaling for you to stand up. he props himself against his headboard before pulling you back onto the bed to sit between his spread legs. you watch as matt situates himself between your legs, ridding you of your sleep shorts. his soft fingertips drag across the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. chris’s hand tangles in your hair gently, tilting your head to expose your neck as he leaves a trail of wet kisses, whispering praises with every kiss.

“gonna make you feel so good baby. gonna show you how sorry i am, okay?” matt’s blue eyes are locked on yours as he waits for your permission.

his mouth is on you the moment you nod your head, tongue gliding through your folds, exploring every inch before plunging into your hole. his movements are slow and deliberate, low groans leaving his lips when he removes his tongue from your hole to suck on your clit. meanwhile chris’s free hand has wandered to your breast, massaging gently through the fabric of your shirt. you let out a moan when chris’s hand grazes your nipple, causing your hips to buck forward on matt’s face.

“that’s it, such a good girl.” matt praises with a hum.

chris lifts your shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest. the tip of his finger gently circles your nipple, chills dancing down your spine before he rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. moans fall from your lips as the two boys pleasure you. it’s not long before the familiar feeling grows inside you, causing you to squirm under their grip.

“you gonna cum for us?” matt asks— but he already knows the answer.

you let out something of a squeal as the coil inside you snaps, your pussy spasming against matt’s mouth. pleasure courses through your veins as chris attempts to holds you in place, but your hips practically grind against matt’s face.

“i love you, fuck, i love you, i love you so much, you’re perfect, i love you.” matt repeats as he laps at your juices.

“dude you gotta have a taste of her,” matt suggests, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “always tastes so good.”

chris nods, getting up from behind you and switching places with matt. you’re still coming down from your high, eyes widening as you process what’s about to happen before chris’s mouth connects with your core. a whine of overstimulation leaves your mouth as you try to squirm out of place, but matt, now sitting behind you, holds your legs open for his brother. chris’s tongue circles your sensitive clit causing you to throw your head back.

“shit baby, look at him.” matt grabs your face, his grip firm but gentle, tilting it to where chris is positioned between your legs.

you let out a moan at the sight beneath you. chris’s eyes are shut, his moans muffling against your pussy as he devours you. you’re completely soaked from the combination of your arousal, matt’s spit, and now chris’s spit.

“you a happy girl hm? got us both to yourself.” matt coos.

you nod your head, unable to speak.

“my baby always gets what she wants huh?” matt whispers, “’cause you deserve the world.”

his tone is so sweet it makes your stomach tingle. his lips are pressed against your ear as he speaks softly to you, the vibrations and warmth of his voice only add to the sensation. chris suddenly pulls his mouth off of you, but before you can protest you watch as he spits directly onto your pussy, his fingers coming up to drag the spit through your folds before plunging into your hole.

“oh fuck” you let out a high-pitched whine.

“gonna cum for chrissy?” matt asks.

“yeah sweetheart? feels good?” chris peers up at you, “like when i spit on you like a dirty girl?”

his words send you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you as he returns his mouth to your pussy, tongue fucking you through it. when you finally come down from your high, chris removes his face from your core, pressing a kiss to your thigh before sitting up to grab a tissue to wipe his fingers.

“such a good girl.” matt praises, lips pressing against your cheek.

suddenly he reaches his fingers in between your legs causing you to whimper at the sensitivity, having already cum twice in all of 10 minutes.

“one more baby? wanna make it up to you please, wanna make you feel so good.” matt pleads.

you nod your head before he slips two fingers into your wet hole, a choked moan escaping you. chris sits face to face with your pussy, mesmerized at the way you take matt’s fingers.

“what a good fucking girl.” chris hums, his fingers trailing your thigh as he makes eye contact with his brother.

you’re almost certain you feel matt nod behind you—to what, you aren’t sure. until chris returns his gaze to your pussy and lines two of his fingers up just below matt’s, pushing into your soft walls. you gasp at the unexpected intrusion, chris smirking below you as he begins moving his fingers in tandem with his brother’s. whines leave your lips and you squirm under matt’s hold as they finger you.

“you like that sweetheart?” matt asks with a kiss to your jaw.

you nod rapidly, glancing down to take in the sight. matt’s arm is draped over your waist, fingers curling up into your pussy while chris’s chin rests on his arm, eye level with your pussy as he fucks the fingers of his free hand in and out of you.

“fucked soaked sweetheart, making a damn mess.” chris chuckles as your arousal drips onto his bed.

“not my fault.” you mutter, barely audible.

“what’s that baby?” matt asks.

“’s not my fault.” you whimper at their fingers, “can’t help it, you— you keep making me feel good.”

“oh we know sweetheart, not your fault at all.” chris coos.

“we just can’t help ourselves baby.” matt adds, thumb connecting with your swollen clit to rub slow circles, “just love making you cum for us.”

the added stimulation sends you reeling, and you struggle to sit still as you the boys continue their actions.

“close sweetheart?” chris asks.

you nod your head before matt slides a third finger inside of you, a loud moan leaving your lips as you squirm in pleasure. you’re impossibly full of their fingers, the sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge. desperate whines leave your lips as they continue thrusting their fingers in and out of you.

“look at that, taking five fucking fingers in your pussy. that’s our good girl.” matt praises.

“so perfect, bet that feels so good doesn’t it sweetheart?” chris’s glazed eyes are locked on yours.

“yes— fuck” you moan.

“gonna cum for us aren’t you baby?” matt asks.

you nod your head rapidly, an unfamiliar sensation growing in your abdomen. you feel yourself tipping, heart racing as you realize what’s about to happen.

“i think i’m gonna—” your sentence is cut off by a yelp as matt and chris speed up their fingers, only exacerbating the feeling.

“that’s it, let go baby.” matt hums.

“cum all over our fingers sweetheart.” chris chimes.

and to everyone’s surprise, you do exactly that, liquid shooting everywhere as your orgasm washes over you. tears of pleasure flow down your cheeks as a slew of moans leave you, the boys never stopping the movements of their fingers.

“holy shit—” matt starts.

“did she just—” chris begins before exchanging a glance with matt.

you think you’re finally coming down from the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had when matt and chris increase the pace of their fingers, matt’s other hand moving to rub your clit. the sensation is incredibly overwhelming and you yelp as the feeling in your abdomen returns.

“i—” you start to protest before matt cuts you off.

“more baby.” matt demands, eyes completely entranced on their soaked hands, the wet spot on the bed, and the loud squelching of your pussy.

your whines and babbles are incoherent. it feels so good that all you can do is cry in pleasure as the dam breaks again. liquid gushes all over, adding to the mess between the three of you. their fingers slow this time, relief washing over you as you catch your breath.

“there we go” matt hums in satisfaction.

“you are fucking amazing.” chris groans.

“fucking perfect.” matt corrects, “did so good for us baby, squirting all over. look at the pretty mess you made.”

you shift your eyes down, gasping at the wet spot soaking through chris’s comforter, their shiny hands, and chris’s glistening face.

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t—” you whisper.

“don’t apologize.” the two of them respond in unison before chuckling.

they pull their fingers out of you slowly before chris gets up to grab a towel. matt rubs soft circles on your thigh, placing kisses to the side of your face.

“such a perfect girl, we’re so lucky. did that feel good baby?” matt asks.

“really good matty.” you nod your head.

“i hope you know how sorry i am for yesterday. i will spend the rest of time making it up to you.” matt whispers, his head dropping into the crook of your neck.

“i’m okay matty, you’re okay.” you reassure him as chris returns with a towel to wipe you up before tossing the towel to his brother.

“think i’m gonna need to wash my sheets sweetheart,” chris chuckles, “y’wanna go take a shower then we’ll watch a movie or something?”

“yeah c’mon baby let’s get you cleaned up.” matt nods, climbing out from behind you to get off the bed before picking you up bridal style and carrying you to his bathroom.

matt sits you on the edge of the bathtub before turning on the shower. once he rids himself of his clothes, he reaches his hand out for you to grab. you take his hand, but your attempt to stand is unsuccessful as your wobbly legs cause you to lose your balance, nearly falling over before matt’s hands catch your hips to steady you.

“woah” he chuckles before guiding you into the shower, a smile of pride spreading across his face, “i gotcha princess.”

after showering, you find yourself on the couch, head resting in matt’s lap, legs sprawled out as chris enters the living room in new clothes, his hair damp from showering. he smiles at you, making his way over to the couch and lifting your legs up gently to take a seat before placing your legs over his. his soft hands rub along your calves as he searches through netflix. matt’s hand finds it’s way into hair, fingers gently rubbing your scalp. the duality of their soft touch causes your eyes to shut, an exhale of relief leaving you. this feels so perfect.

chris puts on an episode of criminal minds before tossing the remote next to him and leaning back. his eyes scan your figure, spread perfectly across him and his brother.

“this is going to be fun to explain to nick.” chris laughs.

“oh my god” matt responds with a chuckle, “his head’s gonna explode.”

the two of them exchange laughs at the thought of their brother’s reaction. but chris’s words don’t amuse you, they scare you. reality sets in, fear trailing in it’s path as you realize they’re right, nick is going to freak out— and if their own brother is going to freak out, how will everyone else react? you know what will the public reception will be, you know what will be said about you, what will be said about matt and chris. your mind spirals at the thought of hurting their public image, or worse, their careers entirely. you sit yourself up, suddenly feeling like you’re going to be sick.

“you okay baby? what’s wrong?” the concern in matt’s voice pulls chris’s attention to your face.

“what’s everyone going to think—say—about… us?” you mumble, eyes dropping into your lap.

matt sighs at your question, exchanging a glance with his brother before leaning his forehead against the side of your head. he knew it was only a matter of time before this conversation came up, but he hoped somehow it wouldn’t.

“honestly baby, i don’t know.” his voice is soft as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt, trying to calm his own thoughts, “i’m sorry.”

his words offer no comfort to you as the room falls silent, the three of you processing your situation.

“honestly,” chris speaks up, “i don’t give a fuck what they say.”

you and matt turn to look at him, taken aback by his bluntness and the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“but—” you start before his arms wrap around your waist, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

“i don’t care. this is the happiest i’ve ever been in my entire life. i’m not letting anyone take that from me— from us.” chris states matter of factly.

“chris is right.” matt nods, “how ’bout we just keep it private for now? just between the three of us. i don’t want other people involved in this part of our lives.”

both of their words calm you, but chris isn’t pleased with his brother’s suggestion.

“i mean, that’s not fair matt. i’m not hiding my girl.” chris responds.

“it’s not hiding, chris, it’s protecting.” matt’s tone is sharp.

“we’re not protecting her by pretending people aren’t gonna have negative shit to say.” chris retorts.

“we’re not pretending anything, i just don’t think we need to immediately subject ourselves, especially her, to that.” matt explains.

“so what, we don’t even tell nick? and i’m just supposed to restrain myself when he’s around? pretend like we’re not— together?” chris continues.

you feel tears brim your eyes, guilt washing over you as you sit between the bickering pair. this is exactly what you feared, you’re already a source of tension and causing issues between them. matt’s hard expression softens when he notices your glossy eyes, a hand instantly reaching to cup your cheeks and wipe your fallen tears with his thumb.

“hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re alright baby.” matt coos before pulling you into his chest for a hug, his chin resting atop your head. “let’s not talk about this right now okay?” he suggests to his brother.

chris nods, rubbing your back softly for a moment before he too wraps his arms around you from behind. he places his head in the crook of your neck before a soft voice leaves his lips.

“i’m sorry sweetheart. we can do whatever you want, okay? always.” and you know he means every word.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed part 4! this is going to be the last chapter of this series, BUT i will still be writing small blurbs for this series. i just don’t want to drag out the storyline by continuing to write long chapters if that makes sense :)

✧ tags✧ @m1zzi3 @pepsiisgoatedasf @courta13 @2muchofaslvt @monroesturnns @emmaweasley @iloveduckssm @tahliama @ellajane2332 @riowritesitall @izzysturniiolo @angeliijay12-blog @brianna-grace12

(if i missed you on my taglist or you want to be added, please lmk!)

[captn-trex]

hey!! loved reading your fives and rex fics!! could i possibly maybe request a captain rex x reader where the reader is a jedi and she's ina. similar situation to the one ahsoka was in during the final season (order 66 scene)? eek ilysm

where trust falls apart

Rex x F!Reader / Jedi!Reader

word count: 4.6k

description: the end of the war is near, but when the clones turn on you, you come to understand that your hardship has only just begun

warnings/tags: angst! hurt/comfort, order 66, rex under the influence of the inhibitor chip, canon-typical violence, mention of the conspiracy arc, friends to lovers fluff at the end :)

a/n: hi anon ! thank you so much <3 I haven't written anything about order 66 yet so thanks for requesting, I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for !

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

Looking out on the stars, you couldn’t help but muse on how the past few years, the years of your life that you had given to the war, were coming to a close.

There was something in the air, a feeling of calm, stillness, that felt oddly like being lulled into a false sense of security. The end of the war was nearing, everyone could feel it. Count Dooku had been defeated, General Kenobi had engaged General Grievous on Utapau, and you yourself had just come from Mandalore, having assisted in the capture of Darth Maul. There was a finality about the jump to hyperspace, as if leaving all grievances in the past, finally having prevailed against any and all adversaries.

Despite the relief you thought you might feel, there was something uncomfortable nagging at you from the back of your mind. You had thanked the clones alongside you for their part in the war, and then had retreated to a small room towards the back of the ship, with a window to the galaxy where you could just be alone with the stars.

It was emptiness that you felt, and you couldn’t figure out why. You should be happy, with the war ending, and hopefully being able to step down from your role as a General and become a keeper of the peace once again. However, the loneliness nagged at you nonetheless.

There was a knock at the door, and you pulled your eyes from the swirling blues of hyperspace to call for the person to enter. When the door zipped open, you were pleased to be met by the figure of the Captain of the 501st.

“General” he addressed you with a respectful nod of his head, though his expression betrayed something hesitant.

“Captain” you replied, “is everything alright?”

“Fine, sir” he confirmed, though didn’t elaborate as he stood in the doorway, gripping his helmet at his side.

”Did you need me for anything?” you asked, a little confused by his demeanour.

“No General, I just came to—” he paused, looking to the floor before he found your eyes again, “may I come in?”

You smiled, your questioning gaze softening at the timidity of the otherwise brave soldier, “of course”

Rex was a complication that you never saw coming.

With you not having your own battalion, you were placed wherever most support was needed, and in many of those instances, you had been deployed alongside the 501st. When you first met Rex, you had been struck by how easily confident he was, how collected he seemed in the face of a war that promised no end, and a General that sought to break his composure with every crazy new tactic he could think of.

As time passed, and you got to know Rex better, you became so effortlessly enamoured by him. He was charming and easy to get along with, if a little awkward at times, but that only endeared you to him more. You had spent many a campaign fighting at his side, and the feeling was always exhilarating. Your movements were harmonious with his in a especially instinctual way, working together as one unit without the need to tell him what to do. You understood each other, in a certain way.

Before you could think to pull yourself back, you realised your feelings towards him had reached the depths that no jedi should be indulging in. You tried to act as if it didn’t affect you, as if he didn’t affect you, but with every lingering look, every benevolent smile and awkward wave, you were failing miserably.

It was somewhat clear to you that Rex might feel the same way. He was always given away by the blush that spread across his cheeks whenever you thanked him or complimented his tactical skills, and as much as you felt you shouldn’t, sometimes you did so just to get that adorable reaction.

Rex was a restrained man. You knew that he’d never compromise your position as a jedi and as a General, and part of you was thankful for that, but there was also a part of you that wished upon every star that he would one day lose his composure and take what he so clearly wanted from you.

Now, as he closed the door behind him without taking his eyes from you, you took a moment to make another of those wishes.

“Are you okay General?” he asked, his voice cautious, as if he didn’t want to overstep.

“Yeah” you smiled softly, “just needed to get away for a moment”

Rex hesitated before he replied, “would you like me to leave?”

You chuckled slightly, “no, I’m glad you’re here”

The familiar blush spread across his cheeks as he shifted on his feet, forcing his gaze down to look at the floor.

“What did you come for?” you asked.

“Oh” the word fell from his lips as if he’d been caught, “I was just coming to check on you”

You couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered, “why?”

Rex faltered, his eyes glued to his boots as he spoke quietly, “you know I care about you General, I—” he gulped, “I could tell that you weren’t feeling great after getting back to the ship, and I don’t want to impose but I couldn’t—”

“Rex” you placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his rambling and making his head snap up to look at you with wide eyes, “thank you”

Rex didn’t speak, but the way his breath hitched, cheeks darkening further as his eyes dragged across your features, told you it had more of an effect on him than he’d let on. You shouldn’t test his patience, really, but watching him squirm like this was something that you relished in. You took your hand away from him, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot, about the war coming to an end” you confessed, turning back around the look out of the window.

Rex came to stand beside you, “what about it?”

You sighed, an action that gave away your fatigue, “I’m just not sure what comes next, it’s… troubling”

Rex nodded, “I understand”

His voice was quiet, and you turned to look at him. His amber eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your insides constrict. You’d seen the look before, but never in such close quarters, and the earnestness of it was startling.

“I’ll miss working with you, General” he said quietly, and the way his eyebrows pinched slightly as he spoke told you that his words meant more than he was saying.

You turned your body, resting the side of your head against the glass as you looked up at him, “so will I”

For a moment, neither one of you moved, too wrapped up in each other’s gazes to find a reason to look away. It was thrilling, holding his attention in this way, and before you could restrain yourself, you were speaking again.

“I’ll miss you a lot, Rex”

Rex sighed slightly, his shoulders sagging as he shifted closer to you. His gaze turned sorrowful, and his nervousness was obvious in the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his helmet.

“General, I need to tell you something” he whispered, and your heart lurched.

You took a step towards him so that your boots nearly touched his, and for once he didn’t look like he was going to move away. You pried his helmet from his twitching fingers and placed it on the windowsill, and his hands fell to his sides.

“What is it, Captain?” you asked in reply.

He looked nervous to speak, his mouth opening and then promptly closing when he couldn’t form the words. You hoped that the way you were looking up at him would give him the confidence to say what was on his mind, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead, he opted to lift a hand and sweep some of your hair behind your ear, then rest his palm against your cheek. His touch was painfully gentle, as if he was still trying to keep you at arm’s length, but it made your breath catch in your throat nonetheless.

”General, I—”

His gentle tone was interrupted by the shrill beeping of a comm device, and for a moment, he let it ring out, swiping his thumb across your cheek.

“Just give me a moment to see what this is about” he murmured, and then moved away to the other side of the room to receive the comm call.

Your blood felt hot, Rex’s touch still searing into your skin and sending tingles all throughout your body. You couldn’t believe that he’d actually crossed the line, and the anticipatory thrill that ran through you made you breathless.

You turned to admire him for a moment, and saw him clip the comm back onto his belt, and then slowly take a blaster from its holster. A cold feeling gripped you, a sharp pain piercing your mind and making your head ache. Rex wasn’t turning around, and you saw the way his hand trembled as he held his blaster tightly.

“Rex? What is it?” you asked worriedly, taking a few steps towards him.

“Get…” his voice was low, dangerous, and you froze, “get out”

You took another step but his voice was insistent.

”Run”

“Rex, what—?” you reached out to him, gently touching his arm, but you realised the error of your ways immediately.

He grabbed your wrist before you had barely touched him, and twisted your arm behind you at a painful angle, drawing a yelp from your throat. Your hand flung to your belt on instinct, calling your lightsaber to you, but Rex got his hand to your other wrist before you could get your fingers around it. The sound of the metal weapon clattering to the floor rang out in the quiet of the small room, and Rex pushed you into the wall, your cheek taking the full force of his strength. You groaned, feeling your face throbbing with pain as you heard Rex kick away your lightsaber.

You had barely had time to process what was happening, and it seemed so preposterous that you weren’t fully convinced that it was. Perhaps this was some sick daydream that you were having. That thought was knocked from you at the feeling of Rex pressing you into the wall, his palm against the back of your head.

“Stay put and be quiet” he spoke, and his voice was cold and harsh, two things you had never associated with him.

“Rex—”

“I said quiet” he growled in your ear, his breath tickling your neck and making you shudder.

You’d never been afraid of Rex, there was no reason to be after all. Though with the feeling of something shifting the tide against you, and knowing exactly the kind of things that Rex was capable of, a visceral fear gripped you body. You couldn't move, and luckily that's all he was asking for right now.

You felt the barrel of a blaster dig into the back of your head, earning another pained noise. You quickly felt hot tears springing from your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Rex what's going on? Why are you doing this?” you voice betrayed every inch of fear that held you captive. You sounded small, a quivering mess that tripped over words.

Before Rex could reply, if he even would have, a voice crackled through his comm, “Captain, sir, we can't find the target, have you got eyes on her?”

It was Jesse’s voice, and an unbidden whimper escaped your lips, earning a knee to the back and another grunt of pain from you. You couldn't understand why your men would turn on you in this way, and especially Rex.

The sensation that invaded your mind in the next moments was the most horrifying feeling that had ever seized you. You heard the cries through the force, their agony creating a wave of pain, a fever that wracked your body, making everything ache. You were brought to your knees by it, your chest constricting and feeling like you couldn't get enough air into your lungs.

“I'm dealing with it” Rex said simply, and pushed his blaster into your head once more, bringing you back to the present moment.

You could feel the way his hand shook, and you couldn't help but think that he should have shot you by now. You tilted your head back slowly, looking up at him as he towered above you with a steely expression that didn't suit him one bit.

“Rex, please” you whispered the desperate plea, and you could see the way his eyes shone, a watery layer of tears covering their surface despite the otherwise fierce look.

Without making any sudden movements, you gradually turned around and stood up. His blaster was now pressing into your forehead, but upon closer inspection you realised that he didn't even have his finger on the trigger. You slowly lifted your hands up, placing them over his, and trying to inject some calm into him, a soothing gesture through the force. All you could feel bouncing back at you was something cold and unfeeling, something bleak that didn't feel anything like he usually did.

Beneath it all there was a small flicker of light, which felt like it was trying to escape with every last bit of energy it had. It felt like Rex was being held captive in his own body, and the notion shook you to your core.

“Rex, it's okay” you tried to soothe, but he just pressed you back more, your head hitting into the wall and bringing a new discomfort.

He was close, watching tears slip out of your eyes from mere inches away, but the only thing he did was finally put his finger to the trigger. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing what you had to do to get out of this situation.

“I'm so sorry Rex” you whispered, before mustering all the strength within you to push him back and send him careening into the wall opposite.

His head hit the durasteel with a sickening thud, carving a dent where it found its mark, and you cringed, hoping it hadn't done any serious damage to him. He was still conscious, barely, groaning at the injury and holding the back of his head in his hand. You took your chance and summoned your lightsaber, scurrying from the room and heading straight to the hangar with haste.

It had been months, or you thought so at least. You stopped counting the days when you realised that it didn't really matter. It was in the past, that was all that was important.

You were a different person now, at least in the mind of those around you. You went by a different name, and it seemed fitting for how you felt like a shell of the person you used to be. You'd found work on some outer rim planet that you'd never knew existed until you almost crashed into its surface. It was far enough away from the core worlds that it was doubtful that anyone would recognise you, but you still tried not to make a show of yourself. It was easy work, fixing up speeders and other hunks of junk that people brought in. It was pretty mindless work, but you had always been good with your hands, and the pay wasn't awful.

Unfortunately, the mindlessness of it gave you plenty of time to think. It had been months, but you were still confused.

Rex was probably your closest friend, someone you had trusted with your life, but that trust had been proven futile the moment he put a blaster to your head. You knew that something had to have been seriously wrong to do such a thing. Even if he suddenly decided your friendship was worthless, he was a good man. He couldn't do such a thing in his right mind. The cold sensation that gripped you when you touched his hand still haunted your dreams, but you were not closer to figuring it out.

It was late, rain was pouring down outside the garage and providing a calming backdrop to your tinkering, and you were slid underneath a speeder, humming something to keep your mind focused with your hands buried in tangled wires. You felt someone approaching before their footsteps reached your ears, and an irritated sigh left your lips. You remembered turning the sign on the door to show you were finished for the day. Apparently this person had taken it upon themself to investigate anyway.

“We’re closed” you said in a flat voice, not enough energy to inject any warmth into your voice.

The person didn't reply, and you could feel them standing there still, unmoving. With another ennervated noise leaving your lips, you slid out from underneath the speeder to give them a piece of your mind, but your words died on your lips when you saw the person looking down at you.

You instantly pulled the blaster from the holster at your hip, and his hands shot up in surrender.

“Please don't shoot, I'm not going to hurt you”

You didn't know what to, or say. You had imagined what you might say if you came upon Rex again, you couldn't help it, but all of your previous thoughts were spilling from your head at the sight of him actually standing there. You stood up, keeping your blaster pointed at him, ready to run if need be. Of course you'd never shoot him, and he probably knew that, but it was still a protective measure you weren't going to neglect.

“How did you find me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice strong.

“Please put the blaster d—” Rex's please was cut off by you doubling down, stepping forwards with your finger on the trigger.

“I asked you a question” you remarked.

“I— Senator Organa told me where I could find you” he said carefully.

Your frown was deep and betrayed your mistrust before you spoke, “you're lying”

“I'm no—”

“Why would he tell you?” you pushed your blaster into his forehead, trying your best to be intimidating, but he just looked calm, his eyes piercing you as they had before he turned on you, a reverence in his gaze that gave you pause.

It made your heart stutter, but you couldn't give in so easily. He didn't pull away, he didn't do anything but watch you for a moment, and you could feel yourself giving in.

“Because I asked” he replied softly, bringing his hands up and placing them over yours.

You only realised then that you were shaking, with the steadiness and warmth of Rex engulfing your hands. You could feel none of the cold and harsh feeling that reached for your mind the last time you had touched him, only the warmth of his usual presence through the force. Strong and glowing, unyieldingly positive and steadfast, just comforting.

You felt Rex take the blaster from you and throw it away, holding your trembling hands in his and enrapturing you with his steady gaze.

“You don't need to be afraid of me” his voice was soothing and gentle.

“I don't understand” you whispered, your voice trembling, though no longer in fear.

Rex tentatively pulled you forward and wrapped his arms around you, and you took the bait instantly. You buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, enveloping yourself in his warmth, his comfort.

“I'm so sorry General” he said softly, sounding utterly apologetic, “you're safe, I can explain everything”

It did feel safe, being in his arms, but you still couldn't so easily shake what had happened the last time you saw him.

“Why did you—” it was hard to say, hard to admit, “you were going to kill me”

His arms tightened around you, “I couldn't control it General, I—” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head, “I have a lot of explaining to do”

A small laugh escaped you even though you knew it wasn't a joke. Perhaps it was just that the situation seemed so ridiculous.

“You think?” you pulled back to look up at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

Rex's hand found its place on your cheek as he smiled back, and you leaned into it, about to close your eyes until you noticed a thin scar on the side of his head.

“What's this?” you reached up and traced your finger along it.

Rex huffed a little, “the explanation”

You frowned up at him, not taking his meaning at all.

“I— it’s a lot, it's hard to—”

You stepped out of his embrace to gesture behind you, “why don't you come and sit down in my room”

Rex looked to the door you were pointing to across the room, hesitant for a moment before he met your gaze again with a small smile, “yeah, that sounds good”

After showing him into the small room, Rex took a seat on the old sofa that clung to the wall, while you went about making a batch of caf. You were suddenly struck by how different things were. You weren't entirely sure what was going on in the larger galaxy, having run away from it all, but what you knew was that whoever Rex was to you now, was something completely different. He was no longer a soldier under your command, you no longer his General. Something about it sent a thrill through you, but you tried to supress thinking about that until he'd explained himself.

You offered him the cup of caf, and grabbed your own, taking a seat beside him and bringing your knees to your chest. Rex looked despondently down onto his cup, swirling it gently before taking a sip. You saw his shoulders relax as he breathed out, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment. You realised then just how tired and run down he looked, and you became more nervous for him to disclose what had happened to him.

He began by telling you about what happened to Fives, what he uncovered and what went down in the warehouse where he died. He told you how he held him in his arms when he took his last breath, how nobody believed him and he had to go on knowing about the chip in his head without the knowledge of what it really meant.

You remembered seeing Rex soon after it had all gone down, and thinking that he seemed changed, as if he was trying to hold it together for the sake of his men. You knew it had affected him more than he was letting on, you just hadn't known why.

He told you that after you'd run away from him when his chip activated, he'd gone looking for you and instead ran into Ahsoka, and how she had helped him remove it before their hard-won escape.

“I'm so sorry General” He looked over to you for the first time since he began speaking, and you could see the tears in the corners of his eyes, “I tried to control it, but…”

He stopped speaking, his face contorting in a frown as he tried to quell his emotions.

“I would never have— you know that I'd never—”

“Rex” you stopped him with hand over his when you could see his emotions getting the better of him, “I know. I knew something was wrong, that it wasn't you. I could feel it”

His brows pinched slightly as he let out a deep breath, relief flooding his expression. He sat back, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head on the wall as he closed his eyes. He looked so tired and overwhelmed, and your heart ached for him.

“So… all of the jedi, they're—” you stopped short of the painful word, but Rex understood.

He opened his eyes and nodded, “aside from Ahsoka... yes. as far as I know”

You tightened your arms around your shins and let out a long breath, resting your head on your knees and looking down. You had expected as much. The loss you felt though the force was crippling, there could be no other explanation for such an agonizing feeling.

“I'm so sorry” Rex said quietly and your eyes flicked back to him. He looked so remorseful, as if he was carrying to whole weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

“It's not your fault, Rex” you shook your head, “you're a victim of this as much as I am”

“I know, but—” his eyes softened, “I know how much being a jedi meant to you, I'm just sorry that things turned out this way”

You nodded, a sad smile lifting your lips, “me too”

A silence stretched out between you, neither one of you deigning to speak again for a moment as the gravity of the situation overtook you. Though, there was something still playing on your mind, something you needed to know.

“Rex… when you—” you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, wondering if you should bring it up, “before everything happened, you said you had something to tell me”

“Oh” his eyes widened for a moment, and you could see a blush grow on his cheeks, “I did say that, yeah”

You waited a moment, but when he didn't say anything else you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“Ah, it's nothing” he spoke with a nervous chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away.

“Nothing?” you asked, tipping your head to the side, an almost teasing look in your eyes and a smirk crossing your lips.

He huffed slightly, his cheeks darkening further, “you shouldn't look at me like that, General”

Your heart pounded in your chest at his low and somewhat sultry tone, but it only spurred you on, “why not?”

“Because… you're my superior”

“No I'm not” you challenged.

You were no longer bound by the titles that once held you from each other, and you watched with a somewhat triumphant expression as you saw that realisation set into his face.

“No… you're not” he said slowly, quietly, as if testing the words to see how true they felt.

With an unhurried pace, but not hesitation, Rex reached out took your ankles, drawing your legs away from your chest and draping one one of them over his lap as he shifted towards you. He placed himself between your legs, taking your face in his hand and taking a moment to cast his gaze across your features.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice breathless.

Rex's lips quirked up slightly, in a coy manner that you'd never seen from him.

“My orders” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips.

You bit into your lip as a surprised chuckle left you. You'd never known Rex act like this, but you weren't going to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of it.

“Kiss me, Captain”

“Of course, General”

His lips captured yours with a celerity, much less reserved an action that you’d come to expect from him. His hands snaked around your waist, his grip on you tightening as your met the intensity of his kiss with ardour, pulling him in by his neck.

His lips started exploring past the bounds of your lips, trailing kisses along the underside of your jaw and throat, his teeth dragging along your collarbone. You could scarcely believe it was happening, and your fingers pinched the skin of your wrist to make sure. You felt Rex huff a laugh against your skin before he pulled back from you, which only made you shudder.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” he asked in a breathy chuckle.

“Shut up” you laughed in reply, an embarrassed blush scorching your ears as you pulled his lips back onto yours.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak

[ruchalus]

Airing my Grievances about the Star Wars fandom right now

So a lot people are upset and being rather transphobic about Sister, the transgender clone trooper from 2022 now recently getting official art. I'm just going to make a short post to air my own grievances about the complaints.

"Kaminoans would turn her into protein paste for being defective"

Clone Trooper 99 was defective and was still utilized. He died with honor while fighting alongside his brothers.

"Kaminoans would never use defective clone troopers"

Chances are you never watched the Bad Batch or paid attention to anything outside the pew pews.

"All clones are male"

Omega from Bad Batch

"Clone troopers are all made to be the same and not be distinct"

Literally in the first episode of the Clone Wars series, Yoda points out how despite being clones, each one is unique. This is pre-Disney buyout of Lucasfilm, no excuses here. (0:38 seconds in)

I'm not trans or in the LGBTQ community so take what I say next with a grain of salt (I'm your basic cishet male).

If anything, my only complaint is that I feel the color on her armor is a bit too on the nose. I had a similar problem with The Acolyte with Osha being all "Is he, or they, with us?". Just keep it to the point and natural and ask "Are they with us?"

I just feel the colors are a bit too on the nose are these are earth trans-flag colors (or close to it). While purples and blues are one of my favorite color schemes, why are we using earth-trans colors? Or perhaps a short backstory for the significance of these colors to Sister?

Just keep it in plain sight without having to draw it out. The trans Twi'lek from Book of Boba Fett is a good example.

But yeah if you're misgendering her and referring to her as "it", then you're a pos and can go jump in a Sarlacc pit.

That is my take on the current Star Wars discourse going on. Transphobia sucks and those complaining about this haven't really paid attention to the messages in Star Wars whatsoever.

[linkemon]

About some things Jing Yuan likes (Jing Yuan x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴀ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ (ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ) ɪɴ ᴊɪɴɢ ʏᴜᴀɴ'ꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅɪɴɢ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]…

Jing Yuan likes challenges

— I asked to not disturb me! — [Reader] shook her head at the papers. 

— Yes, but…— the employee began with an impatient expression on her face. 

— Who is it this time? — The woman ran her hand over her face. 

Was it that hard to block the doors of a respected guild? Leave her alone with a stack of Xianzhou Alliance documents? She didn't feel like breathing in the dust for the rest of the day but someone had to take care of the deliveries. Even if it meant dealing with the grumpy merchants who came here to air their grievances. 

— It's the general... 

— Jing Yuan — [Reader] finished, not very enthusiastically, seeing the man on the doorstep. 

The general seemed full of energy. An unusual sight, considering his sleepy nickname. This time he was not dozing off at all, approaching her desk with a flourish. She could do nothing but sigh theatrically, for the umpteenth time that tiring day. Especially since she saw a handful of employees casually peeking through the large doors and small windows. They listened, pretending to concentrate. Thirsty for gossip, as always. 

— To what do I owe this visit? 

Jing Yuan smiled in his usual way. He looked like a child ready to commit a mischief here and now. His white hair fell unruly over his forehead. 

— You haven’t responded to my proposal — he said, frowning. 

He didn't look like someone who hadn't expected this. Quite the opposite. Like the fun had just begun. 

[Reader] could have sworn her employees' ears grew in seconds. They were going to love this show. She was sure of it. 

—I'm used to serious proposals being made face to face. — She made a pyramid of her fingers and rested her chin on them. 

The letter from the general sat quietly in her desk drawer. She had read it several times but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. At least not right away. Although she had to admit that it was a set of incredibly charming words. It was hard not to melt when reading about her virtues on elegant, coated paper. Especially when the envelope still seemed to smell like its original owner. 

— How serious is a marriage proposal? — The man narrowed his eyes. 

The group of people behind them looked like they had just seen a ghost. One of the workers grabbed her closest colleague by the arm and let out something like a quiet, barely suppressed squeal. 

— I understand you’re here to fix your mistake? — [Reader] asked teasingly. 

— I’m ready for anything — he said, looking her straight in the eye. 

— Oh, yeah? It's dangerous to say things like that when you're one of the arbiter-generals... 

The employees rolled their eyes as if watching a wildly interesting game of chess. The crowd seemed to be getting thicker, people from other departments were arriving. They had long since outgrown the massive doors. 

— I will beg on my knees — saying this, Jing Yuan lowered himself to the floor. 

He didn't look like someone who wanted forgiveness. Or someone who had given up. More like someone who had just made an attack and was waiting for his opponent to respond. The general was having fun. 

— Apology accepted but if you thought it would be that easy, you're sorely mistaken. I'm giving you — she put her finger to her cheek, feigning thoughtfulness — three dates. Convince me it's worth it and I'll consider your offer.

Mischievous sparks danced in his golden eyes. 

— Your wish is my command. — The general took her hand, kissed it gently and moved back toward the door. 

— Get back to work! — The crowd dispersed immediately. 

The building filled with loud discussions. 

Jing Yuan likes chess and Yanqing

The separate part of the headquarters was located far from the watchful eyes of prying politicians. The tiny garden was surrounded by walls separating it from the rest of the world. People without direct connection to general rarely visited it. Therefore, the surprise of the young adept was all the greater. 

— Think about defense or you’ll lose in the next ten moves. — Yanqing turned at the sound of a familiar voice. [Reader] was standing behind him. — Eyes on the board or the general will eat your pieces when you’re not looking! — she added. 

Jing Yuan let out a low, deep laugh. The boy knew him well enough to know that it was sincere. Different from the ones the master gave certain people who sought his favour. It was mostly done for political reasons, which must have been tiring. Yanqing understood why it was important but it didn't change the fact that he himself never wanted to be in such a situation. Perfecting his martial art and cutting through the air with new blades was much more interesting. Not to mention how lonely the life of a general seemed to him once he got to know him better. Surrounded by people but at the end of the day used for specific purposes by everyone around him, including Yanqing himself. That was why when the rumors of an alleged marriage proposal reached the adept's ears, which had shaken several offices, including the headquarters, he wanted to laugh. He figured it had to be some kind of set up. Something that would bring tangible political benefits or allow him to catch some threat to the Xianzhou Alliance. He changed his mind only when a familiar name appeared on the lips of one of the employees. [Reader]. If anyone could truly turn the general's head around without any strings attached, it could only be her. The woman standing behind him now, at the sight of whom the teacher made something called googly eyes. Liquid gold laughed along with his lips. 

— You can join us. You’ll see that I’m an honest man — Jing Yuan gestured the guest to the red, ornate cushions. 

— You are an honest man but you definitely don’t play fair. — Saying this, [Reader] sat down next to Yanqing. 

The general nodded. He began pouring the recently brewed tea. The silence was broken by the sipping from three hand-decorated cups. The game was still going on. 

[Reader] whispered something in the ear of the apprentice, who withdrew his hand thoughtfully. Eventually, he made a move with a completely different piece. The situation repeated itself a few more times. General watched the funny conspiracy of turning around and trying to escape his gaze. He had to admit that it was incredibly funny and very unfair of them but at the same time enjoyable. Perhaps that was why he didn't feel any anger at seeing his defeat. But was it a real defeat if he gave them a head start? Yanqing seemed unaware but [Reader] gave him a look that suggested she saw through him. If they were playing alone, he would have heard a good talk by now. However, the woman looked at the young apprentice sitting right next to him and rejoiced with him at his victory. Even if she knew it wasn't real. 

— I can't believe I finally made it. — The boy looked at the board as if he was seeing it for the first time in his life. 

— The moral of the next lesson is that cooperation is extremely important — Jing Yuan said. 

The adept, however, was no longer listening to him. He gathered himself in the blink of an eye and ran, as he suspected, towards the training ground. 

— He’s a good boy — [Reader] said, following him with her gaze. — Ready for some real competition?

— Of course. 

Jing Yuan likes animals

[Reader] glanced around the room. Her eyes scanned the room for anything of interest. The guards at the door had been informed that she was coming and they had silently left her in one of the many vast rooms belonging to the arbiter-general. Her gaze swept over the rows of gilt-framed paintings that lined the long hallway. Here and there, she spotted antiques but overall, Jing Yuan wasn’t exactly a sentimental man. Even along the way, she didn’t see any personal items. She could have expected that from someone who had erased their memories to avoid the influence of the mara but there was something slightly sad about it. 

In a split second, something warm and wet appeared under [Reader]'s hand. She screamed and jumped back as if scalded. The heavy body pinned her to the ground. It smelled of meat. Whiteness covered her world for a moment. She heard something about a snow lion amidst the smacking. Only after a loud sigh did she hear Jing Yuan's clear voice: 

— Mimi!

The lioness moved away reluctantly. 

From under the drooling face, [Reader] could finally see the culprit of all the commotion. Up until now, she had only heard stories about her. Wave Treading Snow Lion — that was the full name of the giant cat. At least, that was what she seemed to be when Jing Yuan was tricked at a young age. The vendor swore that she was a real grimalkin but little Mimi grew and grew. The boy could barely cover the cost of meat for her. They even started calling him a Gluttonous General, thinking that he ate everything himself. Over time, the cat's name stopped fitting. However, that didn't mean that she reacted the same way to the new one. If he really wanted to get her attention, he had to use the old one. 

— I apologize for her. She hasn't met anyone new in a long time. — The General offered her his hand. 

His hand left a pleasant warmth behind. He held it a second longer than befits a gentleman. The thought alone made her want to smile but the wicked smile on his face made her stop. He knew exactly what he was doing. He liked to play games like that. 

— You’re doing a better job of raising Yanqing than her — she joked, standing up. 

— It's hard to disagree — he said, handing her a hand-embroidered handkerchief. — Come with me. I'll show you the garden.

The lioness wouldn't give up. She nudged her owner with her nose. Blue eyes stared pleadingly at the general. He stopped and lowered himself to her level. After a moment, the white fur became one with Jing Yuan's hair. With his outfit, it was hard to tell where the animal began and the human ended. Until the pink tongue went straight to meet the familiar face. 

— We make a good team. Now we can be covered with saliva together. — She handed him the tissue back. 

She almost screamed for the second time that day. A new shade appeared among the ubiquitous white and a very mobile one at that. The finch poked its head out from just above the man's head. 

— How many more animals do you have? — [Reader] asked, petting Mimi, who looked at the bird enviously. 

— I am not an owner if that's what you're asking. The finches come here from time to time, when they feel like it. — The bird hopped onto the general's shoulder. 

— And you let them walk all over you? — she asked. 

It seemed as if the animals were climbing on Jing Yuan's head not only metaphorically but literally. 

— They’ve been trying to build nests but so far I’m doing okay. — The finch tilted its head, just like the general.

— Then let's go to the garden with your... menagerie — she finished uncertainly. 

Jing Yuan likes [Reader]

— What are you talking about? — Jing Yuan asked in disbelief. 

— That's it! She's been kidnapped — Fu Xuan said irritably. 

The woman sighed loudly. Why did she have to deliver such news? She wasn't some errand boy. She had other things to do. Including predicting what would happen to the entire nation and taking the place of the general when he abdicated (she couldn't wait for that to happen). In the meantime, she was forced to watch as the pillar of the Xianzhou Alliance melted before her eyes. In a few seconds, however, he straightened up and moved with a spring in his step towards the door. His walk turned into a run in the blink of an eye. Fu Xuan managed to hear something about the guards being called. From the balcony, she saw a group of knights running out to meet their doom. It was unlike Jing Yuan to be so hot-headed. If only he had listened to the end, he wouldn't have run like a fool. The crisis had been averted. 

She strained her ears. The conversation from the courtyard could be heard quite well despite the city noise. 

— You were kidnapped and I’m just finding out now? — Jing Yuan’s voice was slightly offended. 

The remark was not directed at anyone in particular. He blamed himself most of all. 

— I just got back. — [Reader] gestured to the small group of workers trotting along behind her. — Most of them need a doctor.  

A shadow of disbelief passed through the general's eyes. They set off towards the infirmary. On the way, he was given a brief report, although technically the matter was in no way under his jurisdiction. The guilds would deal with it. 

They were all kidnapped because of the merchants' dissatisfaction. Kidnappers went to the first office they saw, although further investigation will show whether it's true. The hostages escaped because one of the kidnappers didn't close the window properly enough. The employee who managed to get out of it notified the nearest knights' unit. The rest was just a matter of time. The whole thing was over in just a few hours, so no one even had time to make official demands. 

Jing Yuan watched [Reader] closely. This wasn't the Dozing General. This was another side of him. The one which acted when the need demanded it. Giving orders to those around him and organizing them. 

The medics began to bustle among the patients. 

— Apart from a few bruises, I’m fine — she replied, feeling his intense gaze on her. 

— Maybe someone should check it. — Jing Yuan didn’t seem convinced. 

— You can kiss it better. It'll probably go away faster that way — [Reader] joked before he could call over any of the medics. 

The eyes turned to liquid gold for a moment. She recognized the mischievous sparks that danced in them. The white locks of hair moved dangerously close. [Reader] felt Jing Yuan's warm breath on her face. He looked like a snow lion. Ready to play and pounce at the same time. The general's gaze shifted to her lips. 

— I meant my bruises — she added, more quietly than before. 

— Of course you did — he replied. 

He didn't look convinced. Eventually, though, hesitantly, he cupped her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on it. 

— As far as I know, I’m completely healthy here — she replied sarcastically. 

— You have a giant scratch here — Jing Yuan assured. 

— Let's say I believe you. 

She looked around the room. Most of the workers had already received medical care. She breathed a sigh of relief. 

— You know this is our third meeting since you took the bet? — The general changed the subject. 

He looked like he wanted to ask another question but ultimately refrained. 

— That's a coincidence, which means it doesn't count at all. We'll have to continue to make it fair — [Reader] said. 

—Well, if you say so, I guess I can’t argue. — A familiar smile appeared on Jing Yuan’s face. 

[minhosbitterriver]

──── * ˚ ✦ THE LAST STRAW ( stray kids )

❛ After a final argument with your toxic, manipulative mother over your irresponsible younger brother, you decide to cut ties with your family, only to be overwhelmed by doubt and panic until your supportive boyfriend, Felix, reassures you that choosing yourself was the right decision.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 14 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Here's a wonderful request made by @lixies-favorite-cookie! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Idol AU, emotional abuse, family conflict, mommy issues, mental health struggles, parental neglect, parental favoritism, depression and self-worth issues, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

The kitchen feels like a war zone, the air thick with unsaid accusations and the sharp remnants of long-festered wounds. Your mother stands at the sink, her back rigid and unforgiving, hands submerged in soapy water as she scrubs a dish with a ferocity that speaks louder than words. Each stroke of her hand seems to scrape away at the silence, but instead of clarity, it only stirs the storm between you. You can almost see the tension rippling off her like waves of heat from a furnace, feeding the blaze that has been building in your chest, threatening to consume you.

“So, that’s it?” you ask, your voice taut, straining against the anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re really going to ignore everything I’ve said and expect me to drop everything—again—to drive him around?” There’s a tremor in your tone, a plea for acknowledgment masked by the bitterness of your words. But she doesn’t turn to face you. Instead, she sighs, a heavy, exaggerated breath that fills the room with disdain, as if you are the one being irrational, ungrateful.

“He doesn’t have anyone else,” she replies, her voice dripping with exasperation, as if you should already know this. “And it’s not like it’s a big deal—you’re already out and about. What’s a little detour to help your brother?”

Her words hit you like a slap across the face, stinging and familiar. “A little detour?” you echo, a disbelieving laugh slipping out, sharp and brittle. “Mom, I have a job. I have classes. I’m barely keeping up as it is. But sure, let’s add ‘chauffeur for the man-child’ to my list of responsibilities.”

At this, she finally turns, her face set in that hardened expression you know so well—eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a thin, unforgiving line. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she snaps, her voice a low warning. “He’s your brother. He’s just going through a rough time.”

A bitter, exhausted laugh escapes your lips, and you can feel the years of buried frustration rising up, threatening to overflow. "A rough time?" you repeat, your voice growing louder, each word carrying the weight of all the grievances you’ve kept bottled up for so long. “He’s been ‘going through a rough time’ for the last five years! And every single time he screws up, you’re right there, wiping his slate clean, making excuses for him. He never has to face the consequences of anything, and somehow, I’m always the one left to pick up the pieces!”

Your voice cracks, and the room seems to tremble with the force of your words. All the times you’ve been overlooked, all the sacrifices you’ve made without a second thought, all the nights spent wondering why you were never enough—everything comes crashing down in this moment. You stand there, breathless, waiting for something, anything, that resembles an acknowledgment of what you’ve endured.

But she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t even flinch. And that, more than anything, is what breaks you.

"That's not true," your mother snaps, her voice cutting through the air like the crack of a whip, cold and biting. "You don’t know what he’s going through. You’ve always been so hard on him, never understanding." Her words hang in the air, thick with accusation, and you feel a familiar frustration beginning to coil tightly in your chest.

You scoff, the sound escaping before you can stop it, disbelief etched across your face. "Understanding?" you fire back, voice laced with incredulity. "You mean like how you’re 'understanding' when he crashes his car because he was out partying, and you expect me to drop everything, put my entire life and future on hold, to make up for it? Or how you’re 'understanding' when he blows all his money on God knows what, and I’m the one who has to lend him my hard-earned cash so he can pay his rent? You’ve always been ‘understanding’ of him, but when have you ever been ‘understanding’ of me?"

For a moment, the room falls silent, heavy with the weight of everything that has been left unsaid for far too long. Your mother’s eyes flash dangerously, a mix of anger and frustration, a glare that once would have made you swallow your words, scramble to backtrack and apologize. But not today. Today, the exhaustion has settled too deeply in your bones, mingling with the anger that has simmered for years, bubbling to the surface.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she spits out, her voice rising, each word sharp and defensive. "I’ve done everything for you! You grew up with food on the table and a roof over your head. You have a job now, you’re in college, you have everything going for you. Do you think that just happened by itself?"

Her audacity stings, her self-righteousness fanning the flames inside you. Every vein feels like it’s on fire, adrenaline surging through your body. “No,” you say, voice trembling but strong, each word pushed out with a force that surprises even you. “Don’t you dare take credit for what little good I have in my life. Don’t you dare. Everything I have going for me is because I worked for it. I was the one who graduated as valedictorian in high school—not you, not him. I worked my ass off to get into college, scrapping for every scholarship I could find so I wouldn’t have to drown in debt later. I found my own place to live, found a job so I could pay my own bills, held myself together when everything around me was falling apart.”

Your words pour out like a flood, each one more bitter than the last. You can see her eyes narrowing, her lips tightening, but it only pushes you to keep going. “But you? Sure, you fed me, you put a roof over my head—like the law says you should. But you only ever noticed me when I was useful to him, when I made things easier for your golden child."

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with the echoes of things that have finally been said, the raw truth laid bare between you. The tension in the room is electric, the weight of years of imbalance, neglect, and misplaced loyalty pressing down on your shoulders. But for the first time, you feel something shift inside you—a spark of liberation, a sense that perhaps, just perhaps, you’ve finally stepped out of the shadow that has loomed over you for so long.

"You're being so selfish," she spits, her voice trembling with a barely controlled fury that makes the walls tremble. The dishes slip from her hands, clattering into the sink with a loud clank as she whirls around to face you. Her eyes are wild, nearly bulging out of her head, her face flushed with indignation. "You have no idea what it's like to be a parent, to have to make these kinds of decisions." The venom in her words seeps into the air, choking you with its bitterness.

But you don’t flinch. Your fists curl even tighter at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you stand your ground, locking eyes with her. "I'm selfish?" A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and brittle, and you can feel the hot sting of unshed tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Do you even hear yourself? You've spent years bending over backwards to coddle him, to fix every single one of his messes. And every time, it's me who gets caught in the crossfire. It's always me who’s expected to be the 'responsible one.' And what do I get for it? Nothing. Not a thank you, not a 'good job,' not even a fraction of the support and understanding you so eagerly throw at him."

Your mother’s hand slams down on the counter with a thunderous bang, making you jump. Her face is a twisted mask of rage and frustration. "You've always had a chip on your shoulder about him," she sneers, her tone dripping with condescension, as if speaking to a petulant child. "Maybe if you weren't so jealous—"

"Don't even start." You cut her off, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve kept bottled up for so long. "I'm not jealous, Mom. I'm tired. I'm tired of being the one who has to sacrifice everything while he coasts through life, knowing you’ll always be there to bail him out. I'm tired of you making me feel like I’m never enough, like I’m only here to clean up his messes and make things easier for him."

The air thickens, a suffocating silence falling between you. Your mother’s face hardens, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "If you don't like it, then maybe you should just leave," she says, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're an adult now, aren’t you? You can make your own choices."

Her words hang in the air, daring you to speak, to react. For a moment, you’re stunned, the breath catching in your throat. Then, softly, like a truth you've kept buried, you say, "Maybe I should." The words taste like freedom on your tongue, a release from years of guilt and fear. "Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you use me to prop him up while you tear me down. I deserve better than this."

For a fleeting moment, something flickers in her eyes—something almost vulnerable, almost human. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cold indifference that has always been there. "Fine. Do what you want," she says dismissively, her tone devoid of emotion. "But don’t come crying to me when you realize you can’t handle the world I’ve protected you from."

A humorless laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down, taking a deep breath instead. You feel the weight of years of resentment, of pain and unspoken truths, settling into place. "I won't," you reply, voice steady as a stone. "Because I've been handling the world all my life. You never protected me from it—you only ever protected your golden child. And I’m done."

You turn away, leaving her standing there, leaving behind the suffocating grip of a mother who never truly saw you. You walk out of the kitchen, out of the house that never felt like a home, and with each step, the air feels a little lighter, the world outside a little more open. For the first time, you feel the distant, hopeful glimmer of something new—something that belongs to you, and you alone.

You sit in the driver’s seat, fingers clenched around the steering wheel with a grip so tight that your knuckles have turned ghostly white. Each breath you take is shallow and ragged, barely filling your lungs. Your heart hammers in your chest, erratic and wild, a drumbeat of panic. The weight of the argument you just had with your mother crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, cold and suffocating. It presses down on you with a force that makes you feel as if you’re drowning, gasping for air but finding none.

Your eyes remain fixed on the house in front of you—your childhood home, a place that should have held comfort and warmth but instead feels like a prison. Each window, each door, every familiar detail seems to glare back at you like a hundred judgmental eyes, watching, waiting. This is where you learned the rules of a game you never asked to play. A place where love was conditional, tethered to sacrifice and silence. And now, it’s a place you’ve walked away from—perhaps for good.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, and you let out a shaky breath that comes out more like a sob than you intended. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sting from your eyes, but it’s useless. You can’t stay here, not in front of this house where the walls seem to whisper accusations, where every step closer feels like sinking deeper into quicksand. You can’t risk your mother storming out with that familiar fire in her eyes, her voice like a vice, twisting your emotions to suit her will.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, fingers unsteady as they swipe through your contacts. You need an anchor, something to steady you before you’re pulled under by the crushing weight of it all. You find his name—Felix. Your thumb hovers for a moment, then presses the call button. You raise the phone to your ear, the screen blurring with tears as you pull out of the driveway. You don’t have a destination in mind; you just need to be moving, to put distance between you and that house.

The line rings once, twice, and with each unanswered ring, the panic coils tighter in your chest, rising into your throat like bile. What if he doesn’t pick up? What if he’s busy? What if you’re left alone with the noise in your head? But then—

"Hey, sunshine," his voice breaks through, warm and steady, like the first rays of dawn piercing through the darkest night. His tone is so familiar, so safe. "You okay? I'm just—"

You don’t let him finish. Your voice cracks as you speak, holding back the sob that threatens to spill over. "Felix...I—I did it. I told her...I told her that I'm done. I can't...I can't believe that I actually did it." The words rush out of you in a breathless stream, a confession that feels both terrifying and freeing.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence that feels heavy with the weight of his understanding. You can almost hear him processing your words, feel the concern threading through the line. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, careful. "You talked to her?" he asks, his tone gentle yet laced with worry. "What happened?"

His question hangs in the air, pulling at your heartstrings, inviting you to pour out the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, even if just a little, knowing that someone is there to catch you as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, a futile attempt to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that matches the chaos in your mind. When you open your eyes again, you force yourself to focus on the road, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from your vision. You suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging inside you.  

"It was about my man-child of a brother again," you start, your voice wavering as you speak. Each word feels like a shard of glass, cutting through the tightness in your throat. "She wanted me to...to fucking drop everything and take care of his mess again. He crashed the damn car, and she’s not even mad at him. She was actually more pissed at me for not wanting to drive him everywhere." The bitterness in your tone is unmistakable, tinged with a raw edge of frustration that’s been simmering for far too long. "And I just...I couldn’t take it anymore, Lix. I told her I’m done. I told her I wasn’t coming back."  

Your breath hitches, and a sob finally breaks free, raw and unrestrained, as you come to a stop at a red light. The tears you've been holding back spill over, warm and unwelcome, streaking down your cheeks. "But what if I made a mistake? What if I’m wrong?" you choke out, the words heavy with doubt and fear. "I mean, they are my family at the end of the day, and I’m nothing without them. What if I...what if I shouldn’t have done this?"  

On the other end of the line, you hear a soft rustling, a familiar sound that brings a small measure of comfort. You know he’s moving, pacing like he always does when he’s worried. Felix’s voice comes through, steady and gentle, like a lifeline. "Hey, hey, take a breath for me, hmm?" he murmurs, his tone soothing. "Just breathe. In and out, yeah? I’m right here."  

You try to follow his instructions as you ease off the brake, the traffic lights changing to green. You take a deep breath in, filling your lungs, and then let it out, but the exhale is shaky, faltering, as if your body is resisting the calm he’s trying to instill. The tears keep flowing, unchecked, but his voice remains a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of your emotions.  

"You did the right thing, love," he continues, his voice firm with conviction—a conviction you desperately need to hear right now. "You’ve been dealing with their bullshit for so long. Too long. You deserve to let it go. You deserve to be free of it all."  

Without much thought, you turn the car to the right, feeling the pull of his reassurance guiding you, even if you’re not quite sure where you’re going. "But what if...what if Mom’s right?" you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "What if I am being selfish? I just...I grew up with this rule in my head that family always helps family, so what if I’m being a shitty person by refusing?"  

For a moment, there’s a pause, a breath of silence that hangs in the air, heavy with all the questions and fears you can’t quite voice. Felix’s next words are gentle, but they cut through that fog with a clarity that brings you back from the edge. "You’re not selfish," he says quietly but firmly. "Sometimes, family isn't about blood; it’s about who stands by you, who sees you. And you’ve been standing on your own for a long time. It’s okay to want more than just survival."  

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring your vision as they cascade over your skin. You press the heel of your hand against your eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it’s like trying to dam a river with a single stone—futile. The weight of everything, the argument, the years of silent endurance, crashes over you in waves, threatening to pull you under. With a shaky breath, you pull onto the side of the road, the tires crunching over gravel, and the car comes to a halt. 

"I’m scared, Lix," you confess, your voice breaking, small and fragile as it escapes you. "I’m scared that I’ll regret this." The words hang in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath with you. Your heart is a clenched fist in your chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. 

Then, his voice breaks through the silence—a warm, comforting presence that feels like a soft embrace, wrapping around you when you need it most. "You won’t," he says, his tone gentle yet firm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. "You know why, huh? Because you’re finally choosing yourself. And that’s not something to regret, not ever. Love, I’m not trying to say it’ll be easy from now on, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved for who you are, not for what you can do for someone else."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and the tightness in your chest starts to loosen, if only a little. His words are like a lifeline, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of your doubts. Deep down, beneath the fear and the uncertainty, you know he’s right. You’ve carried this weight for so long that it feels strange to think of setting it down. But his words are a steady anchor, keeping you from drifting away. 

"Can I come over?" you ask, your voice almost a whisper, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t... I don’t want to be alone right now." The admission feels like exposing a wound, but with Felix, it’s okay. It’s always been okay.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he responds, his voice filled with that unwavering reassurance you’ve come to rely on. "Of course. I’m not home right now, but I was already on my way from class, so I’ll meet you there, okay? Just stay on the phone with me until I get there. We’ll figure everything out together."  

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling a small, tired smile tug at the corners of your lips. There’s still a lingering ache in your heart, but it’s softer now, more manageable. "Thank you, babe," you whisper, the words heavy with gratitude and love. 

"Always," he murmurs back, his voice a soft promise that settles deep within you. "Just keep breathing, sunshine. I’ve got you. I always will."

With his voice still in your ear, you restart the car, feeling his presence as a guiding light through the darkness that’s clouded your path for so long. The road stretches out before you, uncertain and unfamiliar, but with Felix by your side—even if only through the phone—it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. 

For the first time in what feels like years, there’s a flicker of something warm blooming in your chest. Hope. Fragile, tentative, but undeniably there. And for now, that’s enough.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

[rosesanddecay]

Pt. 2

TW: angst/comfort, reader cries a little and is mentioned to have been in therapy

<< Previous | Next>>

The silence was agonizing. The air felt drowning and heavy. It didn’t help that no one could look at each other.

Soap and you have migrated to the couch after realizing that the conversation probably should be had while sitting.

How are any of you meant to address any of this?

Each of you knew just enough to fill in the blanks, but how is-

“So…” Johnny broke the silence and your train of thought. “How do you all know each other?”

“Really, Soap? That’s how you want to start this?” Gaz remarked, letting his grievance show.

“Aye! How else ye expect this to go?! How ye think I feel knowin’ ye’ve shagged my lass?”

“Jesus Christ…” you groan as you hide behind your hands.

“Not everyone-“ Simon murmured leaning back in with his arms crossed.

“Simon!” You exclaim, revealing your warmed cheeks to everyone.

“Well with the way ye look at ‘er I would’ve guessed otherwise-“

“Okay- no, that’s it-“ you stand in front of them all, pointing as you addressed each. “You- Simon, are meant to be dead, I went to your funeral. Fucks sake, I visit those graves everytime I drive past them!”

Simon couldn’t stand to defend himself, because he knew that already. He’d seen you talking to his and his family’s graves every now and then when he went to see them himself. It had torn him apart to not reveal he was alive, but he’d convinced himself it was for your sake. Even if that meant you’d shed more tears.

“You pushed me away for months before ultimately saying that you needed to move for work, that you couldn’t be with me anymore-“ your eyes still held the hurt from long ago as you gazed at Kyle.

“It wasn’t a complete lie…” Kyle scratched at his head, his poor attempt to redeem himself falling flat.

“Shut it, Garrick. You-“ your finger landed on Price, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? I assume you’ve been back for a while, so why didn’t you say anything?”

John knew he had no excuse, so he didn’t attempt to deny his reasoning. “Though’ ye might’ve been with yer other man…”

A hefty exhale escapes you as you hold back from saying more. You could slap him, because how, after all this time, does he not see himself as enough? Instead, your gaze landed on Johnny.

“And you, Johnny, you didn’t really do anything, but still, this could’ve never happened if you or John just told me who else was on the team.”

“Or told us who ye were dating.” Kyle muttering was directed to Johnny, but it earned side eye from you.

“Moral of the story,” you continued, “all of you have been keeping things from me. And now we’re here… and I don’t know what to do or say…” your voice broke a little from the festering emotions. Everyone was quick to their feet to comfort you, John worming his way to the front.

“Aye, lass, there’s no need to cry. We just need to talk this out.” John’s hands cupped your cheeks as the tears threatened to spill. “Maybe we should take a break, take a breather. Later, we can talk one on one with you and each other.”

You nod as you try to calm yourself, doing the short breathing exercises you learned from therapy.

John placed a soft kiss to your forehead before being pushed aside by Johnny. His arms quickly envelop you and he kisses your temple.

“Common lass, let’s get ye out of here for a bit…” Johnny whispered and pulled you into the bedroom, leaving the other men standing in a circle, stuck their own thoughts…

————

Idk what to call this series so feel free to leave some suggestions!

Also didn’t want to make this series too angsty, but reader is definitely gonna need some one-on-one time with each of the boys…

[theunholybastard]

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

-

[cherripie32]

Rely on me | Arlecchino x Reader

Where you are hired as the “mother” of the Hearth to take care of the children and to act as the partner of the ever exhausted Arlecchino.

(Heavily inspired by spy x family chapter 86)

TW: none! Just pure fluff. Reader is fem - referred as mother

It’s been a long week.

“So exhausting…” Arlecchino muttered in annoyance as she mentally reviewed all the tasks needed to be submitted to the fatui. She was so tired of it all: the endless requests from the Tsaritsa, the straining tasks with almost no time to complete them, infuriating peers with bigger egos than she ever thought possible.

And all the demands of her work had lead her to work on a weekend, only being able to walk back home to the orphanage at midnight.

“I have a strong feeling she’ll complain..arriving home at this hour.” Arlecchino’s thoughts swirled as her lips formed a bitter line. “I suppose reasoning to her is just another task I have to finish” She concluded, preparing herself for your grievances.

Her hand grasped the metal of the doorknob, twisting it ever so slightly, making sure to be quiet as to not disturb the children sleeping. Her face was serious, ready to see you huffing your complaint.

“Welcome home, Arle!”

You chirped, a soothing tone ringing in the air

…

“…what?” Arlecchino heard you the first time, but her head grew blank at the sight of you. Seeing you and hearing your voice caused an uneasy peace she wasn’t used to, always accustomed to her mind racing from work. For some reason she couldn’t think anymore, and she didn’t know why.

“I said welcome home” you repeated, your smile still as gentle as ever. “you must be tired from working all day” You slowly took a step toward her direction, but were surprised to find the sight before you.

Arlecchino fell to the floor!

“Arle! Are you okay??” You rushed toward her, concern dominating your face as you knelt to her level.

“I’m alright..” She tried to stand up but couldn’t as hard as she tried. She had no clue why. She wasn’t injured or anything, every bone in her body was working perfectly until she saw you. Her mind was able to think rapidly until she heard your voice. It was as if she was carrying the weight of the world before she opened the door..Perhaps you carried all that weight away.

All she could do was look up to find that worried look on your face. “How are the children?” Arlecchino asked, trying to distract from the fact that she plummeted to the floor.

“They’re all fast asleep. I took them out to play today and they got so exhausted they conked out as soon as they went to bed…” You replied, a small smile settling on your face as you remembered the children playing.

“Arle, if you’re that tired, i suggest you do the same!” You uttered, now sitting on the floor in front of the poor Knave.

And all the Harbinger could do was sigh, head slightly tilting forward to lean on your shoulder. She could notice the faint scent of fresh laundry with a hint of Vanilla.

“Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Should I check your temperature?” A slight tinge of anxiety wavered in your question. Arlecchino could tell heavily you were worried about her state.

“No…but i do have a request. Im sorry for placing this burden on you but..would you mind if i asked you to shoulder my share of the housework? Only for today and tomorrow.” She managed to ask, a pang of guilt as she waited for your reply.

“I wouldn’t mind at all, i’d be happy to!” Your eyes squinted as you smiled in reply.

“How strange.” The harbinger thought.

“Why are you happy about this? I thought people detest chores”

“Well, I do agree that chores aren’t the most enjoyable thing …but, i guess what I wanted was to be able to actually take care of you. I enjoy you being able to rely on me a little”

Arlecchino didn’t say anything in reply. How could she when such sweet words were spoken?

“Peruere, I..know that you can do pretty much anything by yourself. And when times are hard, you try to spare me from it. But I don’t think you need to be so perfect all the time. You continued, a slight thump in your heart from the mention of her name. It felt genuine, serene.

“…”

“You shouldn’t have to put up that front so often. So when you asked me for help just now, that made me sort of happy.

“…”

“I want you to be able to relax from time to time, you work so hard even on days off. So please, don’t hesitate to rely on me a little.” You finished, a small tint of embarrassment on your cheeks as you realized how much you confessed. But Arlecchino didn’t mind at all. And you realized she didn’t when she gazed up at you, an uncharacteristic curve of her smile showing.

“Thank you. In all honesty, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Although her common replies are distinct and straightforward, often not having a convey of emotion. This was different. Her voice wavered as if all of her emotions were coming together. Every part of her felt so relieved, she felt like putty in your hands as you held her in your embrace.

She had never felt so much, until you.

[beenbaanbuun]

hi i wanna ask if dove ever fought with seonghwa or hongjoong like full on disagreeing and just arguing? and what was it like ^____^ i really love ur Addams!Matz fic and seeing you post smth new related to it makes my day!

darling has tiny arguments with hongjoong on a semi-regular basis. despite her tendency to roll over and submit, she’s actually surprisingly hard headed and if hongjoong claims that she broke a rule that she doesn’t agree with, then she is going to give that man hell. the problem is, hongjoong is equally as stubborn and it sometimes ends up with the house being a full on war zone. snarky comments over a game of chess, silent glares over dinner; it’s just an all round hostile environment and seonghwa just tends to be on the sidelines watching it all go down.

“you can’t move your piece there,” hongjoong deadpans as he watches you do an illegal chess move. normally he’d just laugh it off and gently correct you, but he can’t find it in himself to do that when his blood is still boiling from that mornings conversation.

“well if you can make up rules, then so can i,” you fold your arms in defiance and hongjoong finds himself seething. if he were calmer, he’d drag you over his lap and teach you a lesson about being a brat, but just like you had your rules, they had theirs. no punishments out of anger was a pretty important one; they didn’t want to end up hurting you whilst getting their frustrations out. “and i say i want to put my castle there…”

it usually ends up with seonghwa having to step into the metaphorical firing line, because hell below, he and yeosang are sick and tired of it! the constant back and forth has driven the two of them to insanity and if he has to put a stop to it himself then he absolutely will. seonghwa isn’t a believer in anger, and so he will make them sit down and air out their grievances in a calm and collected manner. he’ll even implement a talking stick of absolutely necessary. as long as the two of them aren’t at odds by the time they slip themselves beneath the comforter or their bed, seonghwa will be happy.

for that very reason, darling and seonghwa almost never argue. if she doesn’t agree with seonghwa on anything, he will just nod and offer to talk it through with her when he’s less busy. sometimes she agrees and step down, but sometimes it’s clear that she’s looking for a fight and she tries to push it further. it’s infuriating because no matter how hard she tries, seonghwa just keeps his cool and answers her as if it’s any other conversation. he knows she only does it when she’s in a bad mood, so his first port of call is usually tackling whatever it is that’s getting you down.

“but i just don’t understand how it’s fair,” you snarl, your pacing coming to a stop right in front of where he sits on the chez. he doesn’t even look at you as you growl out your words, and it drives you mad. you stomp your foot in frustration, the loud noise irritating the man just ever-so-slightly. he lets out a deep sigh.

“i said we’ll talk about it later, lamb,” he hums with disinterest as he flicks over the page of his book. you’re fuming above him, chest rising and falling heavily as you glare at him. he lets his gaze flick up to your face, an unimpressed look resting on his features. “what? are you looking for an argument or something? you know i won’t give you one so why don’t you come and sit with me until you’ve calmed down.”

[97linelover]

You and your dumb vampire costume - Jeon Wonwoo

summary: after an ugly break up with your first love and former colleague, you meet him at the annual Halloween party.

Maybe some sparks will fly again.

content: non Idol Wonwoo x non Idol reader, fight,angst,,fluff,smut, drama, heartbreak, love happy end

wc: 1 k

a/n: Wonwoo as vampire? Yes please.

The invitation for the company Halloween party sat in your inbox for days before you even considered opening it. When you finally did, your stomach dropped as you scanned the names on the guest list. Wonwoo. You hadn’t seen him in nearly a year, not since the night of your explosive breakup.

The argument had been brutal, the kind where neither of you held back, where every grievance you had ever bottled up came spilling out. You’d stormed out that night, and the two of you hadn’t spoken since.

At first, you thought about skipping the party entirely. It wasn’t worth reopening old wounds just for a costume contest and some cheap office punch. But a small part of you, the part that had never fully let go of him, told you to go. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the need for closure. Maybe you were just tired of pretending that he hadn’t once been everything to you. So, you RSVP’d with a forced smile and a knot in your stomach.

The night of the party arrived, and the office building had been transformed. The usual sterile cubicles were draped in cobwebs, pumpkins lined the hallways, and eerie music hummed through the speakers. You’d gone all out for your costume, hoping the boldness of it would mask the anxiety bubbling up inside. You were dressed as a warrior queen, your armor glinting under the dim lights, your confidence (or at least the appearance of it) radiating from the strong lines of your costume.

But no amount of costume design could prepare you for the moment you spotted Wonwoo across the room. He was dressed as a vampire, of course. Dark and brooding, with his usual effortless charm. His long black coat and the blood-red accents made him look even more striking than you remembered, and for a moment, it was as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you could feel the tension building, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. You tried to keep your distance, busying yourself with small talk and making rounds among your colleagues, but it wasn’t long before you felt a presence behind you.

“Y/N.” His voice was smooth, familiar, and painfully full of things unsaid.

You turned around slowly, forcing a neutral expression onto your face. “Wonwoo.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of the past year hanging heavily between you. The last time you’d spoken, you’d both said things that couldn’t be unsaid. Accusations, anger, and resentment had defined your last conversation, and standing here now, you could feel the remnants of that night simmering beneath the surface.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he finally said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

“Well, it’s my company too,” you replied, trying to sound just as indifferent, though you could feel your heart racing. “I have every right to be here.”

“Of course you do,” he said, his gaze flickering over your costume briefly before meeting your eyes again. “I just thought… after everything… you wouldn’t want to.”

His words sent a sharp jab through your chest. After everything? As if he hadn’t been just as responsible for the mess you’d both made.

“Well, I’m not here for you,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m here for me. Just trying to have a good time.”

“Right,” he said, his jaw tightening. “A good time. Just like old times, huh?”

The sarcasm in his voice was impossible to miss, and it stirred something in you, something that had been buried but never really gone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice colder now.

Wonwoo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. “It means… you’re acting like everything’s fine. Like we didn’t—”

“Like we didn’t what? Have a massive fight and end things without ever really talking about it?” You interrupted, your voice rising. “Yeah, I remember that part pretty clearly, thanks.”

His eyes darkened, his frustration now matching your own. “You think I don’t remember? You think I haven’t thought about it every day since then?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, turning away slightly, but the anger bubbling up was impossible to hide.

Wonwoo stepped closer, his presence looming as you fought to keep your composure. “Don’t act like I’m the one who walked away, Y/N. You left. You didn’t even give us a chance to fix it.”

You spun to face him, the anger you’d held back for so long finally breaking through. “Because you didn’t care enough to fix it, Wonwoo! Every time I tried to talk, you shut down! You pushed me away until there was nothing left of us to save!”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw the hurt flash across his face before the anger returned. “I was trying to keep us from falling apart! I didn’t want to drag out fights over things we couldn’t change, Y/N. But you couldn’t let anything go.”

“That’s because you never wanted to deal with anything, Wonwoo! You never wanted to face the fact that we were both unhappy!” Your voice wavered slightly, the pain of old wounds reopening. “We couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. I wasn’t happy, and neither were you.”

The words hung between you, raw and exposed. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you stood there, locked in a battle of words and emotions. It felt like the same argument you’d had the night you broke up, only this time there was no escaping it.

“So what now?” he asked, his voice quieter but still tense. “We just keep rehashing the same old arguments until we hate each other even more?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the sting of his words. “Maybe we’re already there.”

His face fell slightly at that, and for the first time that night, you saw something other than anger in his eyes—regret. The kind of regret that lingered, that didn’t go away with time.

Before either of you could say anything more, the music changed, and you heard someone shout for the costume contest. The emcee announced a dance competition, calling for volunteers from the crowd.

Of course, in the twisted way that fate worked, someone from your group shouted your name and Wonwoo’s, urging you both onto the dance floor. You tried to decline, shaking your head, but before you knew it, your coworkers were pushing you forward, insisting it would be fun.

You stood there, glaring at each other, while the music started. It was some upbeat, ridiculous pop song that didn’t match the mood between you two at all, but the crowd was watching, and there was no backing out now.

With a heavy sigh, you started moving, doing your best to make it through the dance-off without further conflict. But Wonwoo, always competitive, wasn’t about to let it be that easy. He threw in dramatic spins and ridiculous moves, clearly trying to one-up you, and it only fueled your frustration.

“Are you serious right now?” you hissed as you stepped closer, trying to match his exaggerated moves with your own. “You’re making this a competition?”

He smirked, that same infuriating smirk that used to drive you crazy, but in a different way. “Why not? We’ve always been good at those.”

You glared at him, your movements growing sharper as the music continued, the two of you locked in this ridiculous, heated competition that mirrored the tension between you.

By the time the song ended, you were both breathless, not from the dancing but from the weight of everything unsaid. The crowd cheered, oblivious to the emotional warfare that had just taken place on the dance floor.

As you tried to catch your breath, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, pulling you aside, away from the noise of the party. You let him, too emotionally drained to protest. Once you were in a quieter corner, he turned to face you, his expression softer now, though the tension was still there.

“This can’t be how it ends, Y/N,” he said quietly, his grip on your wrist loosening but still firm. “Not like this.”

You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that night. Beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, you could see it—the same hurt, the same unresolved feelings that had haunted you both for the past year.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Wonwoo,” you admitted, your voice small. “I don’t even know if we can.”

He let out a long breath, his hand dropping from your wrist. “I don’t either. But… I don’t want this to be the end.”

You stared at him, feeling torn between the anger that still simmered in your chest and the part of you that had never really stopped caring about him.

“I don’t want it to be the end either,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

And in that moment, standing in the midst of a Halloween party you hadn’t even wanted to attend, you realized that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth fighting for. Even if it wouldn’t be easy, even if it meant reopening old wounds, you weren’t ready to walk away. Not yet.

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of all the things you both weren’t saying. Wonwoo stood there, his face a mixture of determination and frustration, the hurt from your past argument still simmering beneath his calm exterior. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched slightly, how his eyes softened as he searched your face for some kind of answer, for something to grasp onto that could lead you both out of this mess.

But there was no easy fix. No simple solution that would undo all the pain, the anger, the words that cut too deep.

“I don’t know how to fix us either,” you admitted, your voice cracking just a little. You hadn’t meant to sound so vulnerable, but after a year of pretending everything was fine, of trying to move on, it was impossible to hold back any longer. “Maybe we’re too far gone.”

His eyes flashed with something like panic for just a moment, but then it was gone, replaced by that stubborn resolve that had always defined him. “We’re not too far gone, Y/N. We can’t be.”

“Why not?” you challenged, folding your arms over your chest defensively. “We’re still the same people who hurt each other, who couldn’t get past our issues. What’s changed?”

Wonwoo sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair, the motion betraying just how tense he was. “Because I’ve had a year to think about it. About us. And… I wasn’t fair to you. I shut you out when you needed me, and that wasn’t right. I just didn’t know how to handle everything. I thought I was protecting us by avoiding the fights, but I only made things worse.”

Hearing him admit that felt like a punch to the gut. For so long, you’d convinced yourself that he didn’t care, that he hadn’t fought for your relationship because he simply didn’t want to. But now, as you looked at him, standing there raw and honest, you realized that maybe you weren’t the only one who’d been hurting.

“You did shut me out,” you agreed quietly, your voice trembling with the emotions you’d buried for so long. “And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I felt like I was screaming into a void, trying to fix something that was already broken, and you didn’t seem to care.”

“I cared,” Wonwoo interrupted, stepping closer. “I cared more than I could say. But I didn’t know how to show it. I didn’t know how to… fix us without making things worse.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. His honesty was cutting through all the walls you’d built up around yourself in the past year, and suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let him back in, to risk the possibility of getting hurt all over again.

“Then why didn’t you try?” you whispered, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. “If you cared so much, why didn’t you fight for me? For us?”

Wonwoo looked away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When he finally met your gaze again, his expression was softer, almost broken. “Because I didn’t think you’d want me to. You walked out, and I thought… I thought that was it. That you were done with me, with us. And I didn’t want to make things worse by chasing after you when you’d made up your mind.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave. All this time, you’d assumed he didn’t care, that he hadn’t tried because he wasn’t willing to fight for your relationship. But now, hearing him say it, you realized just how wrong you’d been. You’d walked out that night because you were angry, because you needed space, but you’d never expected him to just give up. You wanted him to come after you, to show you that he still cared enough to make things right. Instead, you’d both fallen into this painful silence, each of you too hurt and too proud to make the first move.

“I didn’t want you to give up,” you said quietly, the tears finally spilling over. “I just… I just didn’t know how to fix things. I was so angry, and I needed space, but I didn’t want us to end like that.”

“I didn’t want it to end either,” Wonwoo said softly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. His touch was gentle, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like there was a glimmer of hope between you. “I never wanted it to end, Y/N. I just… I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I wanted you to fight for me, Wonwoo. I wanted you to show me that we were worth fighting for.”

“I should have,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “And I’m sorry I didn’t. I should have fought harder. I should have fought for us.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and suddenly, all the anger you’d been holding onto didn’t feel as important anymore. You could see now that you’d both been hurting, both struggling with the weight of your issues, and neither of you had known how to fix it. But now, standing here, with the autumn air swirling around you and the sounds of the Halloween party fading into the background, you realized that maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe you could still salvage what you had.

“Wonwoo,” you began, your voice still shaky but filled with determination. “I don’t know if we can fix everything. I don’t even know if we can go back to how things were. But… I’m willing to try. If you are.”

His eyes lit up with something you hadn’t seen in him for a long time—hope. “I want to try. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past year slowly start to lift from your shoulders. It wouldn’t be easy, and there were still a lot of things you needed to work through, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like there was a chance. A chance to rebuild, to start over.

“Okay,” you said, your voice steady now. “Let’s try again.”

Wonwoo smiled softly, the tension in his body easing as he stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours. “No more running away this time,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “We face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “Together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to hope again. Maybe this was the beginning of something new—something stronger. Something worth fighting for.

[violetsaffron5]

Beautiful Disaster (13)

← Chapter 12 • series masterlist • Chapter 14 →

13 | Glass

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

A party at Satoru's house ends in disaster.

words: 3.9k

AN: Hey guys! Not sure if anyone is even reading this story anymore, but I fell of the face of the planet for a while, sorry about that. Things IRL were crazy with work and my personal life, and I just didn't have it in me to write anything. Things are much better now and I was in the writing mood, so decided to give this one a little update, since I already had the chapter mostly written already. 

I will be going through it to proofread/edit before I do the last two chapters (which will probably be posted together).

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

April 2012

Taking a deep breath, cinching the robe around your waist a little tighter, you step into the class. There’s a murmur from students setting up their supplies, getting their easels into position, and canvases ready to draw on.

The walls are covered in art from various classes and years passed - even some portraits of past nude models hang on the wall as examples of creative liberties and proper proportions. Something many artists have a hard time getting a handle on.

As you stand in front of the class, a little stool next to you so you can sit on occasion while the other students draw, you look around the room, making eye contact with Choso.

He gives a small, shy smile, like he always does and you swallow thickly - feeling the way your chest and neck heat with the flush creeping up to your cheeks.

Satoru wasn’t particularly… pleased when you told him you were taking an extracurricular art class this semester. Less pleased when he realized Choso was in your class.

And even less so when you told him you offered to be the nude class model.

The decision was easy though, despite his grievances. His only real one was jealousy and not wanting everyone in the class to ogle you - which you assured him wasn’t likely going to be the case. You have no reason to be ashamed, and everyone who’s taking this class knew this was an assignment. Besides, the professor has made it very clear that if anyone says anything or makes you uncomfortable, they’ll fail and be removed from the class.

You offered to be the model when you found out it’s a paid gig, and you’ll take an opportunity that arises to get your own money - money your mom doesn’t need to know about and money she won’t have any reason to grill you on how or where you spend it.

Once you explained this, Satoru relented a little, though you’re confident his problems have more to do with Choso than anything else. Which is ridiculous considering there hasn’t been anything more than a friendship between you two. It’s not like you have a history with Choso like Satoru does with Mei.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the professor states after closing the classroom door. You look around, taking in the overhead string lights giving the space a warm glow - the shades are drawn on the windows, stopping anyone from outside the room from witnessing what’s about to happen.

Licking your lips, and looking up at the ceiling, you draw the ribbons on the robe, letting the soft, fluffy material fall to the floor. The air is cold in the room, immediately perking your nipples as you purse your lips, feeling a wave of goosebumps cover your flesh.

The rustling of utensils being grabbed and the scratching on canvases immediately fill the room. Gaining a little more confidence, you look back at the class; Choso’s deep black eyes are the first - and only - you see in the room. At the beginning of the class, you thought it might be more awkward with him here, being the only person you know outside of class and seeing you vulnerable in front of everyone. It’s more comforting than you could have imagined.

In reality, you don’t know him all that well, but he’s always been kind, and he hangs around Suguru a lot. You also don’t miss the way his eyes trail the length of your body before he busies himself with what he’s supposed to be doing.

There are several times during class when your eyes meet, you give a little shrug and smile and he grins full-on, laughing to himself quietly as he continues drawing your form.

When class comes to an end, the professor allows you to leave to dress in the bathroom down the hall and come back since he has a few announcements.

Once you’ve changed you take your place next to Choso as the teacher drones on about maintaining professionalism from seeing a classmate naked and urging everyone to continue working on their canvases on their own time, turning in their finished work at the next class.

Except for you, of course, being exempt from having to draw anything and getting an automatic A on this assignment.

“Thanks for drawing me naked and not being a perv about it,” You whisper to Choso, nudging his shoulder gently with yours.

He flashes his brows, chuckling, “That’s kind of my thing, you know - trying not to be a creep.”

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you wait for Choso to finish packing his art supplies, slipping the canvas under his arm, gesturing for you to walk ahead of him out of the room.

“Are you coming to the party tonight? Haven’t seen you around the last few.”

Choso gives a wistful smile, “Yuji’s grandpa is sick, in the hospital so I’ve been joining him on his visits. But I think he’s hanging out with his friends tonight.”

“Great!” Smiling widely, you turn and walk backward toward your next class as Choso stops in front of the stairs, on the way to his, “Then I’ll see you there!”

Steam rolls out from the bathroom door when you open it, the cool breeze from Satoru’s room hitting your skin, immediately making you shiver. He’s lying on the bed, arm relaxed by his head, long legs crossed at the ankles.

As soon as you emerge, he lets his phone drop to his chest, a heated gaze watching as you meander around, combing through your hair and deciding what to wear for their house party tonight.

Per usual, there’s a fight tonight starring yours truly. How the higher-ups at the school haven’t figured this out, even with Toji acting as an “inside man” - for lack of a better term - is beyond you. You’d think schools would want to investigate why several students show up with black and blue bruises and cut lips and eyebrows every so often, but apparently, they have better things to do.

Satoru has gotten off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and slipping them under the towel until it becomes loose enough to drop to the floor. He pulls you close to him, one large hand splayed on your stomach, the other playful tweaking your pert nipple while he kisses down your neck.

You let out a soft sigh when he nibbles your lobe, before whispering, “You smell so fucking good,” pushing his hips into your ass so you can feel his growing length.

With a sharp gasp, he spins you around, setting you on his dresser, wrapping your arms around his neck as he continues nipping and kissing your neck. And almost inadvertently, as soon as he slips his hand between your thighs, you close your legs a little tighter.

Satoru pulls away, brows knitted as you sigh and purse your lips. His tone comes out harsher, more exasperated than you think he really means, “What’s wrong?”

The truth is your heart fucking aches at the state of your relationship. Things were so great, until they just weren’t anymore - there was a part of you that always thought people who described being in a hard relationship felt like they were drowning were just being dramatic. But it honestly feels that way.

Your chest is heavy and your heart beats so loud that sometimes it’s the only thing you can hear; your throat feels so tight you can’t catch your breath. There are nights where you’ve stayed up wondering if he feels the same way but in reality, you’re not sure he’d ever tell you.

He avoids conversations like the plague and is so much better at hiding his feelings and playing them off than you are.

Since the Okinawa trip, there’s been a lot weighing on your mind about how realistic this relationship with Satoru is. He’s fun and makes you feel alive with his silly ideas and schemes, makes you feel heard and seen. And along that same vein, there are times where you feel simultaneously loved and unwanted.

Afterall, he’s the one who wanted to keep things casual but relented only because you wanted a relationship and it almost feels as if you forced his hand with that. Sure, he made his own choice, but even then, there are things you can’t deny or look away from.

There’s no hiding Mei is a point of contention in your relationship. She has been since before it even started. And it was something you thought would go away - that she would see the two of you together and go find someone else to sink her claws into but she just keeps coming back, and for whatever reasons, he won’t let her go either.

Satoru told you their relationship was primarily physical - that there’s no real interest in one another beyond that, and the only reason they were involved to begin with was because of their family businesses being tied together. More convenient than anything.

So why won’t he let her go? And is it fair to even ask him to? Outside of Suguru, Shoko and even Utahime, she is one of his oldest friends.

You’ve also been wondering recently how much Satoru respects you. Considering how many times you’ve talked about how uncomfortable you are with this… relationship with Mei and how it hurts you, nothing has changed despite his repeated promises.

And it’s not logical to think he’d change.

Satoru groans when you hop off the dresser, grabbing your shirt and slipping it on, “I’m fine. Just not in the mood, I don’t feel great tonight.”

“You’re never in the mood anymore.” There’s no mistaking the annoyance in his tone as grabs his glasses to shield his eyes, no doubt rolling them behind the dark glass.

Despite the lie you’ve been telling, you want nothing more than to have him, let him have his way with you as he has so many times before. But you’re not emotionally ready to go there right now - you need time to think and you can’t do that when he’s buried ten inches deep in you almost every night.

So the physical aspect of your relationship has taken a hit. You’ve tried talking about Okinawa with him, bringing up everything with Mei once again - but just like always, Satoru says you’re being dramatic, making a mountain out of a molehill.

But it’s clearly not nothing since it bothers you and it’s clear as day to everyone around.

Satoru doesn’t bother staying by your side during most of the party, opting to meet up with some of his classmates. You try not to pay too much attention to him, but you sneak glances over every now and again.

He chats, a drink in hand while laughing and animatedly waving his free hand around while telling a story.

“Hello?” A pale hand waves in front of your face, snapping a few times, breaking you out of your trance - apparently you were staring longer than you thought.

Blinking a few times and turning your head, you look at Choso, “I’m sorry - what were you saying?”

He gives a soft smile, glancing between you and Satoru for a moment, “Everything okay?”

Pursing your lips and sighing heavily, you nod slowly, “Yeah… It’s just…” You trail off, not sure how much or what to actually say. It doesn’t take long to make a decision though, since looking back over to Satoru shows Mei has joined his little soiree. “He says nothing is happening, but he’s always with Mei.” You nod your head in that direction.

Choso purses his head and nods, “Yeah. I was wondering about that.”

“Great.” Your voice is monotone. Because this just confirms you’re not the only person who sees them together constantly - that it’s not just you being high maintenance or a pain in the ass. It is a real problem, and one Satoru refuses to acknowledge.

“Why don’t we,” Choso starts, eyes flickering between yours for a moment before pointing off to the side, “take some shots?”

Your eyes trail to where he’s pointing - a small group of people around a small table, just big enough for someone to lay on and take a body shot. A smile spreads across your face with amusement for two reasons: Shoko is currently taking a shot glass out of Utahime’s mouth and tipping it back and because you’re feeling a little petty tonight.

Maybe it’s the alcohol you’ve already consumed, your inhibitions are lowered but you don’t care. If Satoru gets to have someone other than you hanging with him all the time, going on family outings during the holidays and hanging on him twenty-four seven - then why can’t you do the same?

Choso’s questioning stare is innocent, so there’s a chance he won’t be up for this - there’s a part of you that wonders if he meant just regular shots, and not specifically body shots. You get your answer however, when you agree and a wide smile spreads across his face.

While you walk to the table and lay back on it once Utahime has gotten up, Choso busies himself with getting salt, a lime and a shot of tequila.

Shoko is off to the side, staring daggers at you before asking, “What the hell are you doing?”

You smile and shrug, “Playing his game. I’m tired of being the one that gets hurt all the time.”

“This is a really stupid fucking idea,” Utahime chimes in to your surprise. It’s not often she adds her two cents on your relationship - normally she just adds how stupid she thinks Satoru is.

Choosing not to answer, you lay back and turn to face Satoru. He’s not paying attention, however Mei is, you glare, lick your lips and lift your shirt just enough to expose your navel.

“Ready?” Choso asks and you nod, but he keeps a hold of the tequila shot, rather than putting it in your mouth.

Small grains of salt hit just below your belly button and then the feel of a small metal ball and cool tongue trail up. The reaction your body gives is normal; stomach clenching, breath hitching and thighs closing ever so slightly - like a reminder of all the times Satoru has done the same to you.

Looking down at Choso was a mistake - he has a mischievous smirk spread across his lips and heat in his eyes. And rather than take the shot in his hand, he presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widened in shock, because this was not part of the plan - it was supposed to just be a normal body shot, just something to make Satoru a little jealous and hopefully realize how he’s been treating you.

Panicked, you sit up and fix your shirt - Choso winks, placing the glass to his lips just as a fist connects with his jaw in a deafening crack. Satoru is seething, nostrils flared as he grabs a fist full of Choso’s shirt and pulls him in for another punch to the face.

Choso isn’t caught off guard this time, landing his own blow on Satoru’s cheek, and then his ribs.

“Stop!” You scream hysterically, covering your mouth with your hand, because this was not the mess you wanted to cause - this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Before you can take a step forward, a large hand grips your shoulder. Suguru is next to you, shaking his head before stepping in to separate the guys. Panicked, you look at Shoko who has a look of disappointment written on her face, Utahime is shaking her head, watching as Suguru stands between the two.

Satoru runs a hand down his face, Choso wipes his lip with the back of his hand as Suguru says something to them - when he’s done, Satoru stalks out of the room and up the stairs without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Why,” it’s a small noise that leaves your lips, not loud enough for anyone to hear other than yourself. Looking at Choso with upturned brows, you shake your head slightly. If you had known he planned on kissing you, there’s no way you would have agreed to do this.

He must have seen you mouth the word because Choso walks over to you, brows bunched together. “Because he treats you like shit. And you just let it happen time and time again.”

A scoff leaves your lips, “I love Satoru - you know what, I can’t deal with this right now.”

Onlookers move out of your way as you make your way to and up the steps to Satoru’s bedroom. The room is quiet, light off except the illumination of the lights peeking out from the partially closed bathroom door.

For the first time, probably ever, you knock on the door to make your presence known before poking your head inside. Satoru’s standing, head hanging between his shoulders, leaning on his palms on the cool countertop.

“Satoru,” a step forward with your hand outreached for him, wanting to check on the cuts on his lip, and the bruise blooming across his cheek, “I -”

“Stop.” He interjects, tone raspy, lifting his head to look in the mirror but not looking in your direction.

A sigh leaves your lips, because of course he doesn’t want to talk about this. He would rather let his emotions show physically - through sex or fighting - rather than sit and have a two minute conversation to talk things through.

“Okay…” You’re really not sure what to do in this situation, stay and potentially make it worse or leave him to cool off and come try and talk to him later. Opting for the latter, you take a step back - you really need to talk with Choso about what happened too, you just needed a second to take a step back and see Satoru. To make sure he didn’t need any bandages or some other medical care. With the exception of the few scrapes and bruises, he seems physically fine.

Turning and opening the door, a large hand reaches over your head and pushes the door fully closed.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, voice annoyed.

“To check on Choso.” It comes out quieter than you intend, which Satoru’s body heat radiating against your back, his hand still firmly pressed against the door, yours on the knob.

“Why? Kissing him wasn’t enough?”

Heat flares through your veins at the comment, because he’s acting like you asked for him to kiss you. And that was never the intention - you would never do anything like that, and he knows it - especially with your history.

He’s just trying to piss you off too.

Turning around, you snap at him, pointing a finger in his chest, “Maybe because my boyfriend went insane and beat the shit out of him,” he grins slightly at that comment, teeth pink from fading blood. “And because -”

Because you saw the way Choso looked at you when he suggested body shots. Knew it would piss Satoru off to no end. Because you were already questioning what Choso was wanting to do before you agreed. It was like you lost your mind in the moment, in all of the feelings and anger and hurt at everything that has happened, and continues to happen in this relationship.

“Because this is my fault.” Your voice is quiet, shoulders slumped, guilt written on your faces as tears well in your eyes.

Satoru’s arms are around you the moment the first tear drips from the corner of your eye, holding you close and rocking side to side gently.

“Don’t leave me,” He whispers into your hair and you’re sure he doesn’t mean physically, in this moment.

“I’m not - I won’t.” You say between sniffles, pulling back to look into his ocean blue eyes, showing his own uncertainty in this situation - a look you’re not used to from him. “Satoru, that was scary. It looked like you were trying to murder him.”

“I wanted to.”

Your brows pinch together at his admission, “You’re insane.”

“In a good way?” The teasing tone to his voice is starting to come back.

A small laugh leaves your lips, “How is there a good way to be insane?”

He thinks for a moment, pulling you back into his muscular chest before shrugging, “Dunno just, don’t go to him. Okay?”

Closing your eyes, you nod against him, taking in the warmth and safety you feel in his arms, hoping he’ll explain his reaction to that, “Why did you punch him?”

It takes several minutes of standing in silence, holding one another to realize he’s stopped swaying you back and forth, a motion you found comforting when he was doing it, and the odds of him answering are lower and lower with every passing second.

After another few minutes you pull away and sigh, wiping the smeared makeup under your eyes away.

“I don’t want him touching you,” Satoru says hurriedly when you open the bathroom door again, grabbing your free wrist, “Let alone kissing you.”

That’s not a real answer - just some fucked up possessiveness he feels he needs to display because another guy is clearly interested in you. Which is ironic considering he said the two of you could see other people before he agreed to try dating.

And clearly he forgets is attached to him at the hip anytime she’s around, but how dare anyone but Satoru do that with you. It’s a stupid double standard and one you’re tired of.

He lets your arm go when you shake your head slowly, which breaks your heart. Wishing he would fight for you right now, for your relationship - not physically fight, but actually listen to each other and work together to make things better.

Maybe it is time to call it quits. Having these feelings in your relationship continuously is not healthy and it’s taking a toll on you. At this point you’re not sure what’s worse - finding your boyfriend cheating on you with your own mother, or this cycle you found yourself in with Satoru.

There’s a deep stuttering sigh behind you, to your surprise, “Things haven’t been great between us recently,” he says quietly, clearly unsure how to say what’s on his mind, “And I - fuck -” he groans, running his hands up and down his fast several times, “I don’t know, okay, but I don’t want to see you with anyone else.”

Your brows are raised as you turn to look at Satoru with surprise, not having anticipated getting any sort of answer. It’s not much, but it speaks volumes that he’s admitted your relationship isn’t in a good place right now - honestly you weren’t sure he was even aware of it. He never wants to talk about these things, he’d rather have sex and show you how he feels by the way he delicately spreads your legs, teasingly kisses up your thighs and makes love to you.

But it also hurts that the only time he says he loves you, with the exception of the first few times, is when you feel like you have to force it out of him, or when he’s buried deep in your cunt.

“Are we gonna make it?” You whisper back. And for the first time in your relationship, find yourself wondering when this relationship will meet its inevitable end.

But maybe there is hope. He’s admitted this - maybe it’ll just take more time for him to find the words and continue learning to open up. 

Satoru kisses the top of your head, opening the restroom door and pulling you gently to his bed, laying down behind you and covering you both with a throw blanket before whispering back, “We’ll make it... Just don’t leave me.”

So you don’t.

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