#opened tumblr this morning and there was my draft still open

[auto-manic]

In regards to the post I just reblogged (the flag pin) I decided to open the app on my phone to see what ads I’d get and I see this

This is so fucking funny like???? Have they seen the movie Seven????? Brad Pitt puts his whole pussy into portraying the agony and grief in that scene and they try to use it to sell mountain biking equipment??? 😭😭

Like I get it’s lazy advertising and some underpaid intern wrote this (feels too coherent for AI) but still holy shit

[deformedcat]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[jetii]

Home is a Place on Coruscant

Pairing: Captain Rex x fem!Reader

Words: 10,705

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, discussion of grief/death, some description of blood/injuries, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, dirty talk, a little brat taming, oral sex (m and f receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism but not really

Summary: You've always been there for Rex, and when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night after a devastating mission, you do what you do best: take care of him.

A/N: The start of this fic has been sitting in my notes app since the TCW season finale many moons ago, and it wasn't until I read this drabble by @djarrex that I felt compelled to actually finish it. Rex is my fav and he deserves to be taken care of.

It's been about a decade since I've published a fic and about a decade since I've been active on tumblr, so I decided to start from scratch with this blog. Feedback is very much appreciated! I have a few more drafts in the works for Echo, Howzer, Kix, Tech, and Hunter that I'm planning to publish depending on the reception to this one.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Rain on Coruscant was rare. But when it came, it came in torrents, and it came all at once.

In the early hours of morning, while the planet was still sleeping, the sky opened up and let loose a downpour that threatened to flood the lower levels. It was so heavy, it even drowned out the traffic noise coming from the speeders that were still flying over the city at the early hour. The noise was soothing, almost like a lullaby, and the sound of it woke you.

You were used to this sound. You were used to it, because you were used to not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. It was one of the many things about living in the Jewel of the Core Worlds that was taking you longer than you would have liked to adjust to.

The traffic noise, the bustle, the crowds—it all made your homeworld of Rion seem very far away. You could never hear anything over the speeder traffic here, and you likely would've gone mad long ago if not for the trickling of the fountain you kept in the main room. It had been your mother's. You were glad it had come with you when you moved.

The rain was heavy enough that you could hear it inside the apartment, a pleasant hum against the transparisteel. You sat in the window seat, arms folded around your knees, watching the rain fall. The view from your window was not the best in the Galactic City, but it was still quite good, and at night it was beautiful, all the lights of the skyscrapers blurring together in the rain.

The rain would be good for the plants.

You had a garden, a modest one. Some of the plants were native to your world. A few were native to Coruscant. Most were from other worlds. They were your pride and joy. Caring for them had given you something to do when you were adjusting to your new life here. You watered and pruned and tended to them all, and in the spring you were rewarded for your efforts.

Rex had been baffled, at first, by the sight of you out in the courtyard behind the complex, on your knees in the dirt, digging and weeding. It was a little piece of nature on a planet that didn't have much, and Rex was amazed that someone could take so much joy in something so… natural. It was nothing like what he'd been raised to appreciate, which was a good vantage point, a well-maintained blaster, and a plan.

When he'd told you as much, you had invited him to kneel down beside you, and, hesitantly, he'd done so. You handed him a spade and pointed to a patch of soil.

"See that little green leaf poking up?" you asked, and Rex followed your gaze. "See it?"

"I see it."

"Plant the spade right under it. When you pull it up, the root will come with it."

"Like this?" Rex had pulled the spade up, and a plant had come with it. He examined it, then tossed it aside, into the compost.

"That's perfect. That's just how you're supposed to do it. See, you're a natural."

Rex smiled, pleased with the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, let's get the rest of these weeds."

You'd worked in the garden until the sun was setting. Your hands had been dirty, and you had been smiling, and Rex had thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would probably never tell you as much. He'd been trying to think of ways to tell you, and nothing seemed good enough. There was nothing good enough for you. So instead he told you about the missions he went on. And you listened. You always listened.

You wondered if Rex had heard the rain start. You wondered if it was keeping him awake, too. You wanted him to sleep. He was always so tired, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be exhausted when he came home from his mission.

If he came home.

It was an irrational thought. The missions were dangerous, yes, but the 501st had some of the best soldiers in the galaxy. And Rex was a good captain. A good leader.

But there was always the possibility. The risk.

You were intimately acquainted with the feeling of waiting for someone, and the way it tore you apart. It was a risk, being this close to Rex and the other clones of the 501st. It was a risk, feeling the way you did.

It was a risk, but you did anyway.

You look out at the rain, and the speeders that still flew through it. You wonder how they could fly through the storm, and not be afraid.

You're just about to turn away from the window when a noise behind you makes you jump. There, underneath the sound of the rain battering against the transparisteel, the sound of a knock at your door. You almost don’t think it is real, that it's simply a part of the soundscape of the rainy morning, but it comes again, three short raps.

You slide out of bed, fumbling to grab the clothes you tossed on the floor the night before. You don't bother to put on pants, but pull a long shirt over your head and tiptoe to the door, peering through the peephole.

The rain is heavier now, and the clouds are dark, almost black. The white shape in the hall is familiar, though, and it makes your heart race. You open the door, filling the small entryway with the scent of fresh rainwater and humidity.

"Rex," you say. "What are you doing here?”

He’s stoic, still and silent under your gaze, but you can see the tremble in his hands at his sides. The downpour seems to have washed the majority of dirt and debris from his armor, but bits of red still run through the cracks. An hour ago, he was likely covered with whatever the substance was — Umbaran dust or something more sinister — but the rain did well enough to wash it off.

He must’ve walked here, you realize, eyes widening. Your bottom lip pulls to worry between your teeth as you notice the new dents and marks on him. Carbon scoring on his shoulder plate, a tear in his kama, and what seems to be a blaster hole in his chest plate.

"I… I don’t know," he says after a moment. His voice is quiet, rough through the modulation of his helmet. It's as if the words are being dragged up from his lungs.

"I shouldn’t have. I… I should have called. I just… I had to see you.”

The words hang between you, suspended like the raindrops in the air. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You can't believe he's here. He's here, and he's alive. You'd known he would be, but to see him with your own eyes, to have him in front of you, fills you with an immense sense of relief.

But something is clearly wrong. He's not saying what's bothering him, and you're almost too afraid to ask.

“Rex, what happened?”

You reach for him, only to have your hand meet nothing but humid air as he pulls back.

“It’s late, sorry for disturbing you—“

He turns to go, and this time you’re faster. Your hand encloses around his wrist and pulls him to a stop before he can take another step.

“Wait, Rex— please, just… stay. Just for a moment. Come in, you're getting soaked."

He lets out a slow breath and then, after a moment, he jerks a stiff nod. He allows you to drag him inside your apartment and, as the door slides shut behind him, he lifts his hands to the seal of his helmet. You watch him closely as he pulls it free and reveals the face beneath.

There are smudges of grime on his golden skin, and a deep furrow has formed between his eyebrows. He looks haunted, as if the shadows from the battlefield have followed him home. You want to smooth that line out with your thumb, but you aren’t sure he will let you.

You don't ask if you can touch him, but he notices the way your fingers twitch, and he knows you well enough to know that you're thinking about it.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He's never said no to you. "Go ahead."

He doesn't say please, and that hurts a little, but you're not surprised. Rex has been holding you at arm's length ever since he kissed you a few months back, and you know why. You just wish you knew how to help him.

So, you touch him. You brush your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the grime. You know that he doesn't need to be cleaned, but the motions are soothing. Your gentle touch is a balm, and you can feel his tension ease ever so slightly as you brush your fingers over his face.

"What happened?" you ask again, voice barely above a whisper.

"A lot." He lets out a slow breath and leans a little into your touch. He's exhausted, and he's relieved to see you, and the two warring emotions are pulling him in different directions. Rex opens his mouth to say more, but the words die on his tongue. He shakes his head, unable to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Come sit down."

You take him by the hand and lead him over to the couch. You sit first, and he follows suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. The distance doesn't seem right. When you'd met him, Rex had been so full of confidence, even when he'd been a little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. But the war had changed him. He was still the same man, still confident and brave and intelligent, but the weight of responsibility had settled on his shoulders, and the burden was crushing him.

You want to tell him it's going to be okay. You want to say it, but the words sound hollow in your mind.

You shift, moving closer, and Rex moves, too. The distance between you shrinks, and the tension eases. You don’t much care that he’s wearing armor, or that the rainwater is leaving damp spots on the upholstery.

Rex reaches for you, and his hands tremble. His gloves are damp, and his armor is cold, and the chill sends a shiver up your spine when he touches your knee. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't quite meet yours, and his expression is so, so sad.

“Hardcase is gone,” he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the look on your face. You can’t help but gasp at the admission, and a soft sob slips past your lips.

You had met Hardcase once, very briefly. He had been charming and charismatic and kind, if a little wild, and you had liked him immediately. He had flirted with you, and Rex had rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile behind his cup. Hardcase had been fun, and loud, and a little bit reckless.

You had not known him as well as some of the others on his squad, but the pain in Rex's eyes, the grief in his voice, was enough to make it hurt.

"Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry," you murmur.

Rex nods, and his jaw tightens. You can tell that he's trying not to cry, and you can't imagine how hard it must be, to carry such a heavy weight all by himself.

When he speaks again, your blood runs cold.

“We were betrayed. One of our own— one of the Jedi, he—" his breath hitches. “Oz, Ringo — Dozens of them, my brothers. They’re all gone.

"Betrayed?"

You feel like the bottom has dropped out from beneath you.

You knew the war was dangerous, and that Rex's job was dangerous, but the idea that it could go wrong in such a fundamental way?

The Jedi had always seemed so wise, and so strong, and so just. It had always seemed like there was nothing they couldn't do. To know that one of them could betray their men — could betray the Republic, and the innocent people of the galaxy — was too terrible to contemplate.

Your hand finds his cheek again, and this time, his eyes find yours.

They're shining, but his tears don't fall. He's a soldier, and he knows better than to show weakness, even here. You wish he would let himself break. You wish he would let you hold him, and let his tears fall, and let you help him put the pieces back together.

"Rex," you murmur, "I'm so, so sorry."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and your thumb wipes away some of the wetness that has gathered there.

He pulls back for a moment, and you think he’s pulling away completely before he leans closer. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight to him as he buries his head in your shoulder. You immediately return the embrace, one arm over his shoulders while your other hand lifts to hold the back of his head.

You’re not sure how long they stay like that or how many tears are shed between you. After some time, he begins to speak, and you listen while running a soothing hand over his head, trying desperately to keep from sobbing outright as he tells you about the traitorous Jedi Pong Krell.

It’s by far the greatest atrocity you’ve ever heard, and to know that Rex has to put his helmet back on and get back to work in a matter of days makes you sick to your stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this, you think as you pull him into another embrace. None of them do.

Something about the motion causes him to wince, and you immediately release him to grab hold of both his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

His hesitation is answer enough, and you can feel a wave of anger rise in your chest. How could they let him come back, in the state that he's in? How could they ask this of him, after all he's already done?

“I’m fine, cyare. Armor took most of it.”

If it weren’t for the way he avoided your gaze, you’d believe him, but instead you just feel yourself grow more upset. “What did Kix say?”

“Uh, he didn’t—“

“Rex, you were shot, and you didn’t think to get medical attention?”

His expression darkens, and you can see him withdrawing again. His shoulders pull back, and he pulls his chin up, and the distance between you grows again.

“I didn’t think much of anything, to be honest.” He mutters. It breaks your heart, but it also throws more coals on the anger burning inside of you. Not anger at him, you know, even though you can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll be alright.”

“Like hell you will be,” you bite out before taking a step back to help him stand. “C’mon. Let’s get you patched up.”

You're angry. You're so, so angry. How could he let himself get hurt? How could he come here and not tell you about it? How could they send him home, to you, after all he's been through, knowing that he was injured?

But there's nothing you can do about any of that now, and being angry at him isn't going to help.

“You don’t have to—“ He protests through words only, allowing you to drag him through the living room and into the refresher.

“Yes, I do.” You shut him down quickly as you flick the light on and turn to rummage underneath your sink.

He’s still standing in the center of the room when you stand back up to full height, looking uncomfortable at your fussing. It’s not the first time you’ve had to patch him up, but so far it’s just been cuts and bruises. It’s unknown territory for you both, and he holds himself like he’s waiting for you to give up and shoo him out.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you gently push him down to sit at the edge of your bathtub. He’s pliant in your hold, but he meets your eyes with the worried pinch between his brows he gets whenever he thinks he’s upset you.

“Rex, let me take care of you,” you plead softly, and the furrow deepens.

He can hear the way your voice breaks. He can see the worry in your eyes. You're scared, and he hates that he's done that to you.

He should have known better. He should have taken a moment, to collect himself, before coming to see you. He shouldn't have let his emotions overwhelm him. He should have kept it together.

You were always there for him, and you listened, and he could tell you anything. He should have told you that he was okay. That would have been the responsible thing to do.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And now, he can't seem to do the one thing you ask him.

But, after a moment, Rex relaxes. He’s never been able to say no to you before, and it is no different now. His shoulders slump a little, and the furrow smoothes, and you can't help but think that his face looks much nicer like this. You wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself.

"Okay," he murmurs.

It's all the encouragement you need. You lift his hand, cradling it gently, and begin to remove his gloves and armor piece by piece. You set the pieces aside, careful to keep them in order, and you know he appreciates that. It's a little thing, but it helps. You make a note to clean it for him before he leaves, the sight of the red smeared across its surface churning your stomach.

It's quiet between the two of you. The only sounds in the room are the rain and the gentle clink of plastoid against the floor as the last piece is removed.

You're grateful for the silence, though. You're not sure what you would say, and you know that he needs this, needs the moment to breathe.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask.

He hesitates. There's a lot of pain, all over his body. But you can't do anything about the pain that aches in his bones, or the ache in his chest. He doesn't know how to tell you about that.

"Chest," he finally admits. "Took a hit in the vest. Knocked the wind outta me."

That was an understatement, but you didn't need to know that. He could barely breathe, when it had happened, but the rest of his brothers needed him, and he didn't have the time to worry about his own injuries.

"Can you get it off?" You ask.

He gives a slight nod and reaches his arm up to grab the neck of his blacks, slowly pulling it overhead to reveal the skin underneath. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and you feel a flush rising up your neck and onto your cheeks.

The only light in the room is the faint glow from the bulb above the mirror. It casts shadows across the planes of his muscles, and you can't help but drink in the sight of him. His chest is strong and broad, and a line of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his blacks.

There's a blaster mark on his sternum, just above his right pec, not far off from the scar in the center of his chest he’d earned on Salucemi. It’s weeping blood slowly, trickling down the curve of his muscle, and you can see the red, puffy skin surrounding the injury.

It isn't terrible. A few inches to the left, and it could have been fatal. A few inches to the right, and the armor could have deflected the bolt entirely.

Still, you know that he's in pain, and the knowledge is enough to make the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again. You force yourself to swallow them back and, instead, you reach for a damp cloth to wipe the wound clean.

He hisses at the contact, and you can see him grit his teeth against the pain. His hand moves to grasp the edge of the tub, and you can't help but feel guilty. You want to tell him to relax, to try and ease his suffering, but you know he wouldn't listen. He never listens, not when it comes to his own wellbeing.

"Sorry," you murmur, but the cloth keeps moving. You have to clean the wound, so you can treat it properly.

“Where’d you learn this, anyways?"

"What, first aid?" You're surprised by the question.

"Mhm."

“My dad was a swoop racer, believe it or not,” you say softly. You don't talk about him very often. It still hurts. But this feels like the right moment.

Rex tilts his head curiously, watching your face. You can see his expression soften, and you know he can tell how difficult it is for you to speak about this.

"Really?"

You nod, your eyes focused on your work. “My mom was always patching him up, and I’d sit on the counter and help out where I could. When she passed, I took over.”

“Isn’t swoop racing illegal?”

“Hm, not on Rion, it’s not.” You finish cleaning the wound and move to grab the bacta bandages. “Maybe if it was, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed."

You're not sure what possessed you to be so blunt, but the words are out, and there's no taking them back. Rex blinks, shocked by your honesty. You feel embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

"Sorry," you murmur, keeping your eyes low. "That was… I shouldn't have said that."

Rex says nothing. He knows better than to try and coddle you, and besides, you've always been the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. But it doesn’t sit well with him to see you like this, and before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out to you.

His hand lifts, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but lean into his touch. He's so warm, and his hand is calloused and gentle. He cups the back of your head, guiding you forward, and his lips press against your forehead.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as the cloth slips from your fingers, and you cling to him. You feel terrible, for complaining about the loss of your father when Rex has lost so much.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, and you're not sure if he means for asking or for Hardcase or for the war or for everything, and you can't bring yourself to ask.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back. He lets you pull away from him to busy yourself with sorting bacta patches, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"Is that why you came to Coruscant?” He asks softly, his tone careful and gentle.

Part of you wants to lie. You're tired, and you're hurting, and you're not sure you have the strength to have this conversation right now.

But the truth is already out, and if this will help him, you'll tell him anything.

You nod.

“He was actually really good at it,” you chuckle, and Rex can hear the bitterness in your voice. “But eventually he pissed off some powerful people who were placing the wrong bets. One day he left for a big race, and the next morning I found a box with his helmet at our doorstep. Or what was left of it.”

Rex sucks in a breath, and you can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew about the helmet, he’s seen it on the shelf in your living room. But he hadn't known the full story.

You look back up at him. There are tears in your eyes, but they don't fall. You're smiling, and your eyes are sad, and his heart breaks.

“I tried to get the police involved, the racing league, anyone I could get to listen to me, but no one would investigate. I was so angry. Then I started getting threats. I couldn’t…” You shake your head, trying to rid the memories. "I couldn’t stay. So I moved here. And then the war started, and then I met you.”

It seems like a lifetime ago. The days before Rex felt like someone else's life, and you wonder how you ever managed without him. You'd been so lost, and so alone, and you'd felt like the universe was crashing down on you, and he'd pulled you out from underneath the rubble just by being there.

"I'm so sorry, cyar'ika," Rex murmurs.

You reach forward and gently lay a hand on his chest, pressing the bacta patch into place. His skin is soft beneath your touch, and you can't help but think, not for the first time, about how beautiful he is.

"I'm glad that you're here," you tell him softly. "That you made it back, I mean. I'm glad you came home."

Home. Rex swallows thickly.

He's never had a home before, not really. Home had been a word for people with families and futures. Home had been a word for normal, everyday people, not clones.

Home had always seemed like such a far away concept, something he'd never get to experience.

But, suddenly, the idea isn't quite so foreign. Home. With you.

"I'm glad I came back too," he finally murmurs, and his hand lifts to hold yours.

You're quiet, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, and his gaze finds yours.

There's something different between the two of you, something charged and heavy. You know you need to pull away. He needs to rest. You're both exhausted.

But you can't. You can't stop looking at him. He's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's the bravest person you've ever known. You've never loved anyone the way that you love him.

"Cyare," he whispers, and the word makes your heart stutter, even if you don’t know what it means.

He's not sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the way you're looking at him. Maybe it's the fact that, after the past couple of weeks, he thought he'd never see you again. Maybe it's that, for once, you're letting him take care of you. Maybe it's because you're so beautiful and you're so close and he loves you, he's so in love with you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to go without saying something.

Whatever it is, he knows he needs to say something, and he knows he needs to do it now.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers, and it's the best he can do, but he hopes it's enough.

He reaches forward, and his hand finds the curve of your cheek, and the touch is enough to send a spark through your skin. You can feel the heat building inside of you, the desire pooling in your core, and the air in the room is electric.

"Me too," you manage.

His lips find yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and your arms wrap around his shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You're pulling each other closer, as close as you can possibly get, and it's not close enough.

Rex moans softly against your lips, and you can't help the way your hips twitch, or the way you whimper into his mouth. You're both desperate, and eager, and it's the sweetest relief.

He stands and turns, lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the counter, and his body presses against yours. Your legs part, welcoming him, and his hips slot perfectly between them. His hands are on your thighs, gripping and pulling and massaging the flesh.

"Rex," you gasp, breaking away from his lips.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against your throat, his tongue and teeth working the delicate skin. He sucks at your pulse point, and you whine. You know that there will be marks in the morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Rex," you whine again, and you're not sure why, not exactly, because all you want is for him to keep doing what he's doing, to let him claim you and mark you and make you his. But you're overwhelmed, and you need to catch your breath, and his name is the only word your brain can think.

His fingers tighten, and his lips lift from your skin. He’s watching you with dark eyes and swollen lips, chest heaving.

"I need…" he trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand.

He's holding himself back. He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want to assume, but you can feel the need rolling off of him.

He's desperate.

You are too.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Rex sucks in a breath. There are a lot of things that he could say, but the only thing he can manage is your name, soft and needy, and you can hear the way his voice breaks.

The sound makes you ache.

Your hand finds his jaw, and your thumb runs along his bottom lip. He's looking at you with the most adoring eyes, and your heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Please," he breathes.

It's all the encouragement you need. Your lips find his, and his hands find your hips. He lifts you off of the counter and into his arms, and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, grabbing and holding and massaging the flesh. You're not sure how the two of you make it into the bedroom. All you can think about is Rex's lips, his teeth and tongue and hands, and the way he's carrying you like you weigh nothing, his hardness digging into your hip.

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

His knees hit the mattress, and he leans down to lay you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a tenderness to his actions, a sweetness in the way he handles you, that makes you shiver. His thumbs trace the lines of your hipbones underneath your shirt, and he smiles at the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, and the words are enough to make you ache.

His hands are so gentle, his face so earnest. He's always been so careful with you, and it makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hand coming up to rest against the side of his face.

Rex's smile is so beautiful, and it's so full of joy, and you can't help but return it. He turns his head and presses a kiss into the center of your palm.

His lips move, tracing the lines on your palm. His teeth nip gently at the tips of your fingers, and he watches as your breath catches.

He wants to take his time, to learn every inch of you, to map out the places that make you moan and the ones that make you scream, and the ones that make you laugh. He wants to kiss the scars and worship the stretchmarks and the freckles, and the dimples in your skin, and the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, and the birthmark on your shoulder, and he wants to show you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how special, how loved.

He'll do it, eventually. But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needs you.

His fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up slowly, and he can't help the groan that falls from his lips at the sight of you. You're suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that you'd never put on pants when you answered the door, let alone a bra, and you're almost embarrassed.

But the way Rex is looking at you after your shirt is tossed aside makes your stomach flutter, and the words die on your tongue.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, his eyes wide.

He can't seem to decide where to look, where to touch first, so you grab his hands and guide them. They slide across the planes of your stomach and over your ribs, and his fingers ghost the underside of your breasts, and your head falls back onto the pillows.

"Rex," you beg. "Please."

The sound of your plea is enough to spur him into action. His lips find the side of your neck, and his hand cups your breast, thumb finding your nipple and swiping over it.

You gasp, your back arching and hips bucking into his, and Rex moans softly. His teeth graze the line of your pulse, and he moves lower, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whimper, your nails scratching at the back of his neck.

You can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He likes having this effect on you.

The hand on your other breast is kneading the flesh, and his lips are sucking at your nipple, his tongue tracing patterns on the delicate skin. His fingers pinch and pull, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

"So sensitive," he hums, and the vibrations from his words send a tingle down your spine.

"Only for you," you breathe.

The words make his hips stutter, and the hardness of his cock presses into the wetness of your core. You can feel the outline of him against you, the heat and the thickness, and your breath catches.

You roll your hips into his, and Rex releases a groan, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your breast.

"Kriff," he hisses, and the sound sends a shock of pleasure through you. Suddenly, you remember your promise.

"Lay back," you whisper, and his head lifts.

"What?"

You push at his shoulders, mindful of his bandages as you urge him backwards, and Rex follows your command. You move quickly, kneeling between his legs and grabbing the waistband of his blacks. You can see the outline of his hardness straining against the fabric, and you can't help but lick your lips.

"Can I?"

Rex's chest is heaving, his eyes blown black, and you can tell he's trying to process your question.

"Cyar'ika," he breathes, and the endearment makes your heart flutter. "You don't have to."

"I know," you tell him, your hand moving slowly up and down his thigh. Your head tilts thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," he replies.

"I've wanted to for a while."

You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and your eyes dart away from his. You don't know why, it's not like you've been hiding your attraction, but something about telling him is making you nervous.

"You have?"

His voice is soft, and his hand finds the back of your head. His touch is so gentle, and the surprise and happiness in his tone makes you bold.

"Yeah," you murmur, looking back up at him.

He looks stunned, but there's a light in his eyes, a warmth that you can feel spreading inside you too. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to push."

It's his turn to blush. It's cute, the way his cheeks flush, and his eyes dart away. He almost looks embarrassed.

"Since we're being honest…" He starts.

"What?"

"Me too."

Your heart stutters, and a wide grin stretches across your face. The happiness building inside your chest is competing with the desire that courses through you at the knowledge that he's thought about this, about you, and the idea is almost too much. You're sure you must look like a fool smiling this much, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"You've thought about it?" You tease.

"Yeah," he breathes. "All the time."

"Tell me."

He groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, and you can see the way his cock twitches at your words. "I… Kriff, I've imagined it so many times. How good you'd look on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, or bent over, with my hands on your hips, or straddling me, riding me."

"What else?"

You've moved closer to him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, and you can feel the wetness between your thighs. You've never felt so desperate, so needy, and all you want is him, any part of him.

"I think about it all the time. What it would be like to have you in the barracks, in the 'fresher, in the hangar. You on your knees in my office. Fuck, everywhere. It's all I can think about sometimes."

You can feel the wetness growing between your thighs, and you can't stop the whine that falls from your lips. It's almost too much, hearing the things he's imagined, the ways he's wanted you, the times and places, and the need and desperation behind his words.

"Then will you let me?" You ask, and you hope the answer is yes, because you can't imagine stopping.

"Please," he breathes.

"What was that?"

Rex's grip on your hair tightens, his gaze locked on yours as he speaks again, his voice is low.

"Please, cyare."

That's all the encouragement you need. Your eyes don't leave his as your hands pull at the fabric, slowly revealing his length. He's bigger than you dared to imagine, and thicker, and the sight of him is enough to make your mouth water.

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and his mouth is hanging open slightly. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down his chest, and the muscles in his arms are tensed.

"So perfect," you hum, and you're not sure if you're talking to him or his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, and Rex's hips stutter. Your thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of precum, and his eyes fall shut.

"So sensitive," you tease.

"Cyare," he warns. There's an edge to his voice, and it makes you grin.

Your head dips down, and you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, and his hips jerk. You keep pressing kisses along his length, your fingers wrapping around the base. Rex is struggling to breathe. He's not even inside of you yet, and it already feels better than anything he's ever experienced before.

He opens his eyes to look down at you, and the sight of you on your knees in front of him is almost too much. He's dreamed about this moment, and fantasized, and he never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would feel like this.

Your lips wrap around him, and Rex can't stop the way his hips thrust up. His cock brushes the back of your throat, and you gag, pulling back slightly with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, his cheeks flushing.

You shake your head as much as you can with his length in your mouth, and your eyes flash up to his.

You like this, he realizes with a start. You like being used, you like the feeling of him fucking into you, and the realization sends a shock of pleasure through him.

You bob your head slowly, and Rex watches, transfixed, as his cock disappears between your lips. Your tongue runs along the underside, and his eyes fall shut again.

"Maker," he moans.

Your hand is stroking what doesn't fit into your mouth, and your other is tracing the lines of his thighs, and his abs, and his V-lines. You can feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under your fingertips, and you can see the way his hips are straining, the effort he's making to keep still.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you hum softly in response. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling gently, and his other hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

"Fuck, mesh'la," he moans, and the praise makes you preen.

You pull back, until only the head is between your lips, and swirl your tongue around him. He tastes sweet and salty and just the right amount of bitter, and you can't get enough.

"So good," he gasps. "So perfect, so beautiful."

He's babbling now, the words falling from his lips without him thinking about them, and you can't stop the grin. You'd always wondered if he was a talker.

"So perfect, cyar'ika, taking me so well." His voice is wrecked, and his breath is coming in ragged pants. "Feel so good. I could fuck your mouth all night."

His words make you shiver. He could. He could do anything he wanted with you, and you'd let him.

You move your head down, taking him as far as you can, and Rex's eyes open to watch you. You hold his gaze as his cock slides along the back of your tongue and hits the back of your throat, and you suppress the urge to gag.

"So pretty," he hums, his voice strained. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy throbs at the words, and the moan you release vibrates his length.

"That's it," he gasps.

You can feel the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you keep moving, keep taking him, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"So good, mesh'la, so, so good."

He's repeating the words, and you're not sure if he knows he's saying them. Your jaw is starting to ache, your lips are sore, and there's drool dripping down your chin, but you can't stop the soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds are enough to drive him mad.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and his thumb runs along your bottom lip, stretched around him. The gesture is so tender and loving, it's almost too much.

"Look at you," he breathes. "Kriff, I've wanted this for so long. So beautiful. So perfect. My perfect girl. You take me so well."

You hum again, and his head falls back, the movement pushing his cock deeper. You gag around him, and his hips stutter, a litany of Mando'a spilling from his lips. You're not sure what he's saying, but the words are making your cunt clench, the pleasure building inside of you overwhelming.

"I'm close, mesh'la," he gasps. "If you want to stop, you'd better— ah, kriff!"

You've pulled back, and the suction of your lips is incredible. Rex's hips are stuttering, his hands are tugging on your hair, and the sounds falling from his lips are enough to make your core throb.

"Mesh'la, please, I can't—"

His words die in his throat as you reach between his legs and roll his balls in your hand. The action sends him hurtling over the edge, and his hips thrust up one last time, pushing his cock down your throat as he comes.

Your throat works to swallow every drop. It's so much, more than you were expecting, and you struggle not to choke. His grip on your hair is borderline painful, but you don't mind. You can feel his whole body trembling, his breathing labored and his chest heaving.

You release him with a wet pop, and he shudders. You press one last kiss to the underside of his softening length, and he twitches, his body still sensitive.

"You're gonna kill me" he breathes.

"Hopefully not." You wipe your mouth, thumb catching a stray drop of cum and sucking it into your mouth, and you watch as his eyes darken.

He pulls you to him, and you climb back into his lap, his lips on yours. The kiss is slow and lazy, his hands running up and down your back, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

"Mesh'la," he sighs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "So beautiful."

His fingers trail down the side of your neck and between your breasts. They ghost the skin of your stomach and dip underneath the hem of your panties, and you can't help the whimper that escapes.

"Still want me?" You ask.

"Always."

His lips are on your neck, and his fingers find the wetness between your thighs, and you gasp. The noise that falls from his lips is filthy.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he groans. "You're soaked."

"That's your fault," you manage.

His teeth graze your pulse, and his fingers brush against your clit, making your hips buck.

"Can't help it," you gasp.

You can't stop the cry of pleasure as his thumb presses down. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, and you're not sure why. You've made it perfectly clear that you want this.

"Rex," you whimper. "Please."

He presses another kiss to your lips, and the hand not between your thighs wraps around your back, holding you steady. He teases your entrance, and your breath catches, and then his fingers are slipping inside.

"Ah, fuck," you hiss.

You're so wet, so slick, and his fingers slide in easily. Just two fingers already feel so thick, and you can feel your walls stretching around him. There's a dull ache, but it feels so good.

"Cyar'ika," he groans. "Fuck, so tight."

His fingers pump in and out slowly, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Faster," you gasp. "Please, Rex."

"Shh," he coos. "Patience, mesh'la."

"Please."

"Be a good girl and be patient for me."

You whine, the sound muffled by his shoulder. He's being cruel, teasing you like this. You've already had him once, and now he's drawing it out. "Rex, I need you."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. His fingers are still pumping in and out, slowly, agonizingly, and you know he's doing it on purpose.

"I need you," you whimper.

"I'm here," he whispers.

"No, I— ah! I need you inside me."

You can feel his breath catch, and his fingers stutter, and then his lips are at your ear.

"How do you want me, mesh'la?"

"Like this," you breathe. "I want to ride you."

His breath hisses through his teeth, and his fingers speed up. The change in pace is enough to make your head spin, and the noises coming from your mouth are embarrassing. You sound desperate, and you are.

"Fuck, Rex."

"So good," he hums. "Such a good girl."

A third finger slides in beside the other two, and the stretch makes your back arch. You're not sure when he had the chance to slick his fingers with your wetness, but he must have. He's not hurting you, and the feeling is incredible.

"Rex, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he cuts you off.

"Please, I need to—"

"You'll wait," he growls, and the command is enough to make your toes curl.

"Please," you beg. "I'll be good, I promise, just—oh!"

Your plea is cut off by a sharp cry of pleasure, and your walls flutter around his fingers, your hips rocking back and forth.

"I said not yet."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, and the words come out strangled. "I couldn't help it, you feel so good."

He hums, his thumb finding your clit, and the stimulation is almost too much. His lips find yours, and his free hand holds you steady as his fingers move inside of you.

You writhe on top of him, your legs shaking, and you can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, and it's all too much.

"Please," you beg, and you're not even sure what you're asking for.

"What do you need?"

"Please," you gasp.

"Use your words, cyar'ika. What do you need?"

"I need— ah! I need you. I need more. Please."

He's torturing you, you realize. He's doing it on purpose, making you beg, punishing you for how you teased him earlier, and the thought of it makes your cunt throb.

"You've been so good for me, mesh'la. You think you've earned it?"

"Yes," you hiss. "I'll be good. Please, Rex, I'll be a good girl."

He can't say no, not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed, and the look in your eyes is so desperate.

"Okay," he concedes.

You let out a sound of relief, and his fingers are slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, and the action is enough to make you groan. You rise off of him, legs trembling, and hurriedly push your panties down and toss them aside.

He looks up at you, and there's awe in his eyes, a reverence, as his hands settle on your hips to guide you back to him. Your hand wraps around his cock, lining him up, and the two of you gasp as his head breaches your entrance.

"Take your time," he whispers. “You don’t have to—fuck!”

You sink down, taking him fully in one smooth motion, and Rex can't stop the low, guttural moan that escapes.

"You said to take my time," you say, and there's a cheeky lilt to your voice. He opens his mouth to argue, but the words die in his throat. "So I took my time."

You can't stop the grin. The look on his face is almost too much. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving. His lips are swollen from the kisses, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. He looks good like this, you think, and you've never seen him so undone.

"Cyar'ika," he finally manages.

You hum, circling your hips, and his grip on you tightens. Your pace is slow, savoring this feeling unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's bigger than anything you've ever had inside of you before, filling you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You're still adjusting to him, and your movements are slow, but they're steady, and you can't help the soft whimpers and gasps.

Rex is struggling to breathe. Your heat is so warm and so wet, your walls are clenching around him, and the sight of you is almost too much. The way your head is tipped back, your eyes closed and your mouth open, the sounds you’re making, and the way his cock is disappearing inside of you over and over again, it's all so much. He can't believe this is happening.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. You gasp before pushing on his shoulders, and his back hits the mattress. You lean over him, your hands reaching to grasp the headboard, and the new angle makes the both of you exhale. It also makes your breasts hang tantalizingly in his face.

Rex is not one to waste an opportunity.

He leans up and closes his lips around one of your nipples, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck. Your pace speeds up, and his hands grip your hips tightly, helping to guide you.

"Oh, kriff," you gasp.

He releases your nipple with a pop and moves his attention to the other, and the sound you make is almost enough to make him come right then. He can’t help but shift his hips, moving them up and down in time with your thrusts, and you pull away from him to give him a look of warning.

"Stay still," you order.

"Or what?"

You raise an eyebrow, and Rex shivers. You're not sure what makes him react like that, but it sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

"I'll stop."

His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. "You wouldn't," he says.

"That’s an order, Captain," you say, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can't help the wicked smile. You’re learning a lot about him today.

"You're the worst."

"You love it," you retort.

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you closer.

"I love you," he breathes.

You can feel yourself clench around him at his words, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Your lips meet his, and his tongue slides into your mouth as his hands roam your body. You can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lips are warm, and his breath is hot, and his body is so close to yours, the feeling is overwhelming.

He's everything.

"I love you," he says again, his voice hoarse.

"I love you, Rex."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true," you gasp.

His hips stutter, and you pull away, giving him a look of warning, and his jaw clenches.

"Sorry, cyar'ika. I couldn't help it."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Wh— ah!"

You cry out as his fingers find your clit, and your walls flutter. The movement sends pleasure shooting through you, and your legs shake, the pace of your hips unsteady.

"That's it," he coos. "Come for me."

"Not yet," you gasp. "Need you to— oh, fuck, Rex."

His hips snap up, meeting your thrusts, and the new pace is relentless. He's chasing his own release, and you're right there with him. You can't take it anymore.

"Please, please, I can't—"

"Go ahead," he urges.

You can't stop the cry that tumbles from your lips. You can feel the orgasm building, and your hips are bucking wildly.

"I can't—I can't," you sob.

"Come for me, cyar'ika. Come on my cock."

The words are enough to send you over the edge, and he swallows your cries of pleasure. You're trembling above him, your nails are digging into his skin, and the pressure of his fingers against your clit is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Kriff, I can feel you," he breathes. "Your little pussy is squeezing me so tightly."

"Please," you beg. You're not even sure what you're begging him for.

All you know is that he feels so good, and you're so sensitive, and the sensations are too much and not enough.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

He's so gentle even as he sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the end of your channel, and his fingers are rubbing frantic circles around your clit.

The pressure is almost painful, but it feels so good.

"Oh, fuck, Rex," you cry out.

"Come again," he demands.

"I can't," you protest. "It's too much."

"You can," he counters. "Do it for me."

The words send a thrill through you, and you can feel the pleasure building. Your walls are fluttering around him, your hips are bucking, and you can't control the noises coming from your lips.

"That's it," he growls.

Your orgasm washes over you, and this time it's stronger, tears spilling over as his name falls from your lips over and over again. You can feel your release gushing out of you, coating his cock and the sheets below.

The sight is so filthy, but it only seems to spur him on. Rex grips your hips tight enough that you know you’ll bruise, and the thought sends another thrill through you. You want him to leave his mark. He fucks up into you with a force that has the headboard slamming against the wall, and his thrusts are losing their rhythm.

"I'm so close," he breathes.

You're barely coherent, but you can't help but latch on, his words sending another rush of heat through you. "You gonna come for me, Captain?"

He shudders, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He can't find the words.

"You've been so good for me," you purr breathlessly. "Let go."

You can see the tension leaving his shoulders, his jaw slack. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and his thrusts are unsteady. He's teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a few more words from you.

"Fill me up."

"Cyar'ika," he warns.

"Do it," you order.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he breathes. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm—"

He curses, his head falling back against the pillow, and his cock pulses as he spills inside of you, his hands tight on your hips to hold you down. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, and the sensation is enough to make the corners of your vision darken.

"I can feel it," you murmur. "I can feel you, kriff, Rex."

He groans, his arms pulling you down, and you collapse against his chest. You're not sure how long you stay like that, just holding each other. You can't feel anything except him, his hands running up and down your spine, and his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“So,” you say after a while, and he can hear the smugness in your voice.

You tilt your head, and the look he gives you is withering.

"Don't start," he warns.

"Captain, huh? I didn't know that was your thing"

"That's not—"

"What? You don't want to talk about the fact that your cock gets hard when I call you Captain?"

On cue, the appendage in question twitches, and Rex closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not— ugh, kriff," he mutters.

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," you coo.

"Don't patronize me," he says, but the words have no heat behind them.

"I'd never dream of it, sir."

You can see the blush rising in his cheeks, and his eyes darken.

"That's an order," he grumbles.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and the touch is soft and gentle. He melts into it, his hands resting on your waist.

"Yes, Captain," you say.

"I can't—kriff. You can't say things like that, mesh'la." His expression is pained, and the sound that escapes him is almost a whine.

"You're right," you agree. "I can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, and his jaw drops as your fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes follow the motion as you pull his hand between your thighs. You let out a satisfied moan as his fingers dip between your folds, and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of his seed dripping from your cunt when his softening cock slides out of you.

"You're a mess," he says reverently.

"I'm a mess because of you."

He hums, his fingers gathering some of his spend and sliding it back into you.

"Is this what you were imagining, Captain?"

He shudders at the title, and his hips cant, his cock stirring to life.

You can't help the grin. "It is, isn't it?"

"You're terrible," he growls.

"Oh, I'm not terrible. I'm the best you've ever had."

He lets out a breathless laugh. "You're the only one I've ever had," he admits.

You pull back, staring at him in surprise, and the look on his face is unreadable.

"Are you— are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he says, brow raised.

"But--"

"Cyare, I've only ever wanted you." His words are simple, and they're said with a conviction that steals the breath from your lungs.

"Oh."

You're speechless. You're not sure what you'd imagined the past few months. You're not even sure if you'd ever given much thought to it, but the idea that you're the only person who has ever made him feel like this is dizzying.

"I've loved you for a very long time," he confesses, and the words make your heart ache. "I never thought—kriff, I never thought you'd feel the same."

"I love you," you say firmly. "So much."

He grins, and the smile is so wide that his cheeks are dimpling. You can't resist. You lean down to kiss him again, and the way he holds you, like you're the most precious thing in the world, makes the feeling in your chest bloom.

"I'll say it every day for the rest of our lives, if that's what you need," you say.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs.

"I wouldn't," you promise.

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze intense, and his grip tightens. You can see him steeling himself, and the words he speaks make you shiver.

"Good, because I intend to marry you someday."

"Someday," you echo. You're not sure if you believe him, if that's even possible for you, but you believe that he believes it.

"When the war is over," he confirms. "When the fighting is done, and we've finally got a chance at peace, I'll give you the galaxy, cyare. And a family, if you want one."

"Rex, I—" You swallow thickly, and he can see the emotions flickering across your face. His fingers are drawing shapes on your hip, and his eyes are locked with yours.

"I'm not asking for an answer now," he says gently. "I just— I want you to know how serious I am."

You nod, and the silence that stretches between you is heavy.

"You really mean it," you finally say.

"Of course I do."

"What happens if—"

"There is no 'if.'" His tone leaves no room for argument, and he shifts, sitting up. The new position brings you into his lap, and your knees are straddling his waist. He rests his forehead against yours, and his breath fans across your face.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Together," you murmur.

"I'm with you. Always."

You close the distance, kissing him softly. It's nice, holding him like this. The feeling of his arms around you is enough to drive the fears from your mind, pushing them to the furthest corners. You can feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders, and his hands roam your body, exploring every inch.

"You know," you begin, your voice quiet, and your lips brush against his with every word. "I'm still waiting for a tour of the barracks, Captain. Oh, the hangar too."

His breath hitches, and you can feel him starting to harden again under you.

"Cyare," he breathes.

"I'd love to see your office," you continue, and his eyes darken. "You can give me a private tour, just the two of us. I'll wear a skirt, and you can bend me over your desk."

His cock is fully erect now, and he can't stop the groan.

"And the showers," you purr, gently rotating your hips. "I bet they're big. Just big enough for the two of us. We could get the water nice and hot, and I could drop to my knees..."

"Kriff," he swears.

"Or…"

He's breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your skin.

"We could do that now," you offer.

"Cyare." His tone is pleading, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You can feel the ache building between your legs, and your thighs are sticky.

"I'm already dripping wet," you whisper.

"That's it."

He moves so fast that it makes you yelp, and the next thing you know, he's on his feet, carrying you, and your legs are wrapped around his waist. He walks swiftly towards the 'fresher, and the feeling of him sliding against your core makes you shudder.

"You're going to be the death of me, cyare," he murmurs.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I think we can agree that it'll be a great way to go."

The door slides shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter is enough to make you melt.

"A great way to go," he echoes.

You know the path ahead of you is treacherous. You know there will be more battles, and more losses, and more nights where you're unable to sleep. You know there will be pain, and fear, and sorrow.

But there will be hope too, and joy, and happiness. A home, and a family, and a future.

It will be worth it.

[velvetreds]

endgame: day one (i)

mlist.

nobara and yuji help you pack; to say the least, you're nervous. a whole week with someone you barely know. you stuff your clothes haphazardly into the bag, barely listening to anything they're saying.

"y/n! stop zoning out, did you hear what i said?"

"no, sorry yuji," you reply automatically.

"he said, inumaki may be a bitch and a brat sometimes, but he's a good guy," nobara tells you helpfully.

"that's not what i said!"

"i paraphrased."

you raise an eyebrow. "a good guy, yet you called him a bitch and a brat in the same breath."

"hey, i'm just being honest!" nobara tosses another pair of jeans at you. "this'll do. close it, yuji!"

"yes ma'am!"

you smile at the sight of them — two of your best friends — even as their chatter dissolves into giggling and hitting each other on the shoulders. "i'm really lucky to have you guys," you say aloud.

"what's all this sappy bullshit?" questions megumi from behind you. "since when do you like us?"

"y'know, just saying. in case i get murdered at inumaki's."

megumi groans unamusedly, but hands you a bag anyways. "snacks for later."

saying goodbye to them feels like you're getting married in the 1950s and leaving your parents' home forever, even though you'll be gone for a week at most, and you already know you'll be texting them all day. still, it's extremely nerve-wracking to spend even an hour in the same place as inumaki, alone. megumi drives you there, a surprising gesture considering he's always on your ass for not driving yourself. and then he's leaving again, and you're standing at the doorstep of an enormous penthouse like you're homeless, ringing the doorbell while you pray to be struck down by something else — you're not really sure what.

toge inumaki opens the door, and from the start it's clear that he's not expecting you. his hair — or what can be seen of it, anyways — is messy, and he looks like he's just woken up. (is he even wearing pants?) his eyes widen when he sees you. "shit, this early?"

"i think i'm exactly on time," you reply coldly.

"what?" he fishes his phone out of his pants pocket — to your relief, he is wearing shorts — and checks the time. "oh what the hell, i overslept."

"yeah..." you don't feel quite as enthusiastic.

"um, i'll show you to your room, and then we can draft out the formatting when i have breakfast."

breakfast? it's a little past three in the afternoon, but oh well. he shuts the door, then clears his throat. you turn to look at him, and your heart jumps up to your throat. he's pulled the hood down to reveal his pale, messy hair, and you forget who he is just long enough to register the fact that he's terribly attractive, even with the bedhead and puffy eyes. and then you remember that he's a stuck-up loser prick, and the thought is forced away from your mind. "yeah?"

"it's just comparing our routines, right?" he asks you. "for an entire week."

you nod, still speechless from the momentary revelation from half a minute ago. the heat on your cheeks refuses to dissipate.

sparks fly!!!

sorry for the delay, i got into haikyuu and lost all inspiration until reading two fics that caused me to mental breakd(ance/own) this morning.

also i feel like inumaki is lowkey chill about finding yn attractive but yn is dying on the inside.

i stepped on an entire lego set maybe 3 minutes ago and it broke under my foot and it still hurts

my pookies at poopynation, also mimi and nora, ily guys yall my faves fr nghh

tags r open !

likes n rbs r appreciated <3

TAGLIST !! @inumak-eumine @dawnisatotalqueen @satoryaa @punkhazardlaw @carefree-flowerchild @fawnios @shokosbunny @nakopii @lemonnotade @cloudnaiii @bellsoftheball @bubbleteanadboba @shuuji71 @maywill0ws @diorzs

tumblr cannot find some usernames, sorry!

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Heya love,

Thank you for taking my request! I hardly think you can ever disappoint!

So, Autumn Court is a rather traditional court, and we know how discriminating against females it is.

Picture Rhys and the IC being invited to Autumn for whatever reason may it be. There, he decides to wander through the grounds. Somewhere in a secured area within the forest, he finds a female sitting by herself—too gentle and demure to belong to Autumn.

She’s shy in her discourse and neglects to tell him who she is. Eris pops up suddenly and pries the female away from him in a manner that’s too protective and possessive to be friendly.

Later on, Rhys realizes that this young female is Beron’s only, and youngest daughter. Secluded from prying eyes, Beron has made sure no one knew who she is until he was ready to marry her off.

But when Rhys finds out, and the mating bond snaps for him, he’s ready to fight for her. Going as far as to ask for Eris’ help, who happens to be extremely close and protective of his baby sister.

I hope that was clear enough and not at all confusing. Take your time with it, love! And feel free to change any detail you deem necessary.

Thanks again🩷

This

Is

Perfect!!!!

Thank you so much🤩💕I love it so much that the story started to play in my head on its own and continued even in the dream. Hopefully, you'll like it

Moon princess

Word count: 9600+ (oops)

Warnings: mentions of Beron, court machinations, swear words, but no fights and no blood this time

I'm thinking about writing another part where they are slowly getting to know each other. Which I originaly wanted to add into this one, but tumblr stopped cooperating somewhere around 5k words in, messes up with saved text and takes forever to respond. Message is clear, I guess I have again too many WIPs in drafts. It happens all the time 🙄 Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Rhysand threw the pen on the desk and sighing leaned back in his big leather chair. Since early morning he was sitting in the office, writing letters, reading reports and sorting out complaints according to the urgency. It was already past lunchtime, but he didn't get even half through all the documents. He needed some distraction at least for few minutes.

In the very nick of time, the doors flew open and Cassian casually strode in, a massive sandwich in one hand, a piece of paper in the other one. He held only the corner of it between index finger and thumb, glaring at it as if someone had used it as a tissue.

"So.. What are we going to do with the invitation?" he asked with a full mouth.

"What invitation?" Rhys looked up, tired. This was hardly the kind of distraction he wished for.

"This one," general waved the paper. He flopped down to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "From the Autumn Court."

Rhysand frowned. "I got invitation?" he asked with feigned calm.

"Yup," Cassian took another bite from his sandwich, a bit of dressing dripped on his shirt, but he didn't seem to even notice it. Rhys' mouth twitched.

"Oh, really? And remind me, when exactly did I get it?"

"Few weeks ago. Helion also got one. He wants to know what we assume about it and whether we will accept or no. He's still waiting for the answer by the way."

Rhysand raised brows at him. "So you wrote to Helion."

"Nope, he wrote to you right after getting it."

That was the last drop. Closing eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "I think that we already talked about this at least a million times before, Cass. You can't take my mail, open it, read it and then keep it in your room."

Cassian threw up his hands and the dressing and slice of tomato flew out of the sandwich, landing on Rhys' expensive carpet. Rhysand eyed the stain, blood boiling in his veins.

"I don't do anything like that, bro! You know me. Plus, I don't remember that we've ever talked about such rule."

"That isn't rule I made up. It's called postal secret and privacy. Now bring all my mail! Immediately!"

"Fine, fine," Cassian fumed and rolled his eyes, but at last he stood up, throwing the invitation on the desk and left.

When the doors closed behind him, Rhys flicked his wrist and stain from the carpet disappeared. Then he reached for the invitation and cursed because it was smeared with dressing, too. Rhys licked his dirty fingers, commendably humming and wiped the rest of the dirt with tissue. His stomach loudly rumbled, reminding him that he should head out for some food soon.

He unfolded the paper, quickly scanning the text. Beron was inviting him and his family to a week of festivities on the occasion of a significant announcement. There wasn't written anything else, no more details. Rhysand sighed heavily, drumming with the fingers. His brain coils were working at full speed.

'Significant announcement'

What could it be? Considering that it was Beron, it couldn't be anything good. Because of Cassian, they had last two days left to prepare. He needed to know at least what to expect, so he could work up some plan later.

Azriel?

Claws of his power knocked on Azriel's mental shields. He answered right away, letting him in.

What?

Where are you now? Are you busy?

I'm preparing for the mission we talked about yesterday.

Rhysand considered it for moment, biting on his lower lip. Forget that thing for now or entrust it to someone else. This is urgent.

Azriel answered without hesitation. Fine. Are you in your office?

Rhysand loved how pragmatic Shadowsinger was. No questions. All he needed to hear to drop current job was that it was urgent. He didn't question him. Yes.

I'll be there in a minute.

When Az arrived, half hidden in his shadows as usual, he showed him the invitation and explained the situation. Azriel actually laughed when he heard how Cassian came, asking what was the plan. After that, he immediately disappeared in his shadows, heading to contact the spies they had in Autumn Court.

As expected, Azriel returned shorty before they were supposed to leave for the party. His spies didn't know much, only that Beron was secretly planning something big, the wards around his castle were strengthened and that the frequency of the correspondence between him and Spring Court increased in last two months. There was no time to contact spies in Spring whether they knew something more. Azriel planned to use the time they would spend in the Forest House to spy on Beron and learn more.

It was decided that only Rhys, Az and Cass would go. He didn't even try to ask Mor because he already knew the answer. However, he asked Amren and she clearly refused. She literally said that she would rather give up all her jewellery than listen to a single word of that old, pathetic excuse of a male.

Rhysand winnowed them to the Autumn Court close to the borders of the High Lord's estate. As soon as the world around them stilled, the brisk smell of autumn hit their noses. At gates, a dozen of soldiers stood on guard, armed to the teeth. They eyed them suspiciously, but let them pass. The three of them exchanged look as they stepped in, feeling the strong pressure.

"Putting up so strong wards and then inviting guests, one would think that your High Lord is planning something evil or he got himself a gem of size of his head," Rhys purred, but none of the soldiers even as much as blinked. Pursing lips he nodded. "Sharp guys. I wonder if they would stay still even if we started cutting off their limbs."

"I'm sure they would scream like females," Cassian grinned, folding arms on his chest.

"Are you trying to terrorise our guards, Rhysand?" a sly, bored voice spoke from somewhere behind them. They slowly turned around, arrogant as ever.

"Eris," Rhysand flashed his best cocky smile and shoved hands into pockets. "We are just merely testing them. Since when are heirs on the duty to come to the gates and welcome guests?"

"Ever since the so-called guests are mutts from Night Court," he snarled back, picking non-existent dirt from under fingernails.

Azriel was as always calm and composed, avoiding any attention, but Cassian was his opposite. He straightened up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and gritting teeth. "It's a good custom for the host to respect the guests, especially if they were invited, not to insult them. In Autumn, good manners seem not to be taught though."

Eris didn't react, only scoffed. He turned on the heel and started to walk towards the castle surrounded by reds and yellows. He showed them to their chambers connected by private sitting room, briefly informing them about the time of the evening party and that someone would come to show them the way later.

With a free access to the castle, Azriel didn't waste a minute and as soon as Eris left, he disappeared into the shadows to snoop around.

The party took place in a fancy ballroom. Rhys snorted at the sight of pure opulence, shoving hands into his pockets. Everything in this huge room was made of white marble with gold details, including a high vault ceiling. It was so polished that it looked like a mirror.

Autumn aristocracy and several of the High Lords were already here, so Rhys made a show of checking his appearance, keeping his mask of ruthless arrogance.

He had to admit that Beron knew how to show off his wealth. Massive golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, flooding room with bright light. In the vases next to each marble pillar around the perimeter of the room were big bouquets of flowers made out of gold and copper. The start of the party was planned for the sunset, so the whole room looked like made of gold. Amren would love this for sure.

Rhysand wouldn't let it show on his face, but inside he felt sick. It was overdone and suffocating. And he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Cassian was openly showing his disgust, Azriel scanned the surrounding from under his frowning brows, arms crossed on his chest.

"Finally some friendly faces and my favourite ones," a rich playful voice boomed on their left. Azriel rolled his eyes, not bothering to even look at the coming person and murmuring something about the need of a strong drink, he left. Rhysand with a cocky smile turned in time to see Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, giving a hug to Cassian.

"Good to see you, friend," he purred.

Helion hooked a muscular arm around his shoulders and winked. "What do you say about the host's taste?" he pointed with his chin to the ballroom, speaking lowly only for his ears.

"I say you must feel like home here," Rhys snorted.

Helion pursed his full lips, thinking about it. "Not really. But the drinks are good here," he swirled the golden liquid in his glass and waved them, already heading to the crowd. "I hope to see you later in the privacy of your room, so we can catch up."

Rhysand gave him just nod and his eyes turned to the dais in the same moment as High Lord of Autumn with his wife and sons appeared. Rhysand tried to keep his face emotionless as his eyes fell to the Lady of Autumn. He hated to see the visibly mistreated female, something about her reminding him of his late mother even though unlike Lady of Autumn she was strong and wild and didn't let his father to treat her badly. Maybe it was the motherly vibes they both shared.

He rather averted his gaze to the gathered crowd and half listening to Beron's speech, let his powers lurk around, looking for any useful information he could get from these people. His violet-blue eyes searched for Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, between the High Lords. Maybe if he played it off well, he could find out more about the business Autumn and Spring were cooking up, but his golden hair and tall figure were nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Beron finished his boring speech with a promise of the big announcement on the end of this week of festivities. Rhysand despised the idea of waiting for the whole week. He needed to know what was going on in order the prepare for it, eventually come up with plan to sabotage it. The sooner he knew, the better.

He tried to find Azriel's mind in the crowd to give him orders, but with satisfaction he realized that Shadowsinger wasn't anywhere nearby, most likely already snooping around High Lord's quarters where he intended to send him. That male was a real workaholic.

As the evening progressed, Rhysand got even more bored. Chat with other invited High Lords led to nothing as none of them wanted to discuss anything of real importance at place where they could be easily heard by wrong persons. Cassian was cleaning plates, Azriel was who-knows-where and even Eris seemed to slip out to the night.

In need of fresh, cool air he moved to the terrace and then down to the gardens, looking for a quiet, dark corner where he could blow out the steam. The sounds of party slowly grew distant, number of guests on an evening stroll decreased. Rhysand didn't want to be disturbed, so he walked more deeper into the dark gardens. Thinking that he found the secluded place he needed, he looked around, noticing guards pacing on the edge where gardens turned into a forest. That piqued his interest. What could possibly be worth of guarding in the forest?

He merged with the night, getting pass the guards unnoticed. It was too easy and thus it was no fun. He hoped for at least a small hitch to make tonight interesting. Hopefully, whatever was hidden there, would be worth of the effort and provide him with some sort of excitement.

He dragged through the forest looking right and left, searching for something that didn't fit in. After half an hour he was ready to call it off, marking it as a great waste of time, when he noticed a soft light behind the thick bush. Carefully stalking closer, he stayed hidden in the darkness of autumn forest and took a look around.

There, hidden behind bushes and trees, spread out a clearing bathing in the cool silver light of full moon and in the middle of that on a fallen tree trunk sat the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Her petite figure with soft features and porcelain skin glowed in the night. Dark brown silky hair fell in waves to her tiny waist. Dressed up in light, white dress that reflected the moonlight, surrounded by hundreds of fireflies, the small female looked like being of another world. Devouring that fragile beauty, he suddenly remembered the bedtime story mother used to tell him, his most favourite one. How could he forget it?

The story was about Moon Princess who spent her entire life, night after night watching Fae live, dance, laugh and love. Her desire to spend at least one day with them and experience the same things they did, grew so strong that she got sick, slowly fading away. When her father, Moon King, learnt about her desire, he decided to grant her her wish in order to save life of his only daughter. And so Moon Princess descended from the moon to the clearing in the deep forest, instantly feeling better.

At that time, young prince happened to be in the forest on his way back home, witnessing her descent. He immediately fell in love with her and took her to his castle. Gradually, she fell in love with the prince, but when the month her father granted her was coming to its end, she became sad and again fell ill. Her father couldn't stand to see his daughter suffer so much and allowed her to stay with her prince. After some time they got married, had a lot of children and grew old together.

When Rhys was younger, he dreamt about finding his own Moon Princess and having his happily ever after with her. Seeing this gentle creature in the woods now, he felt like he was witness of descent of Moon Princess he waited for. She took the air from his lungs and captivated his heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped out from the shadows. Not wanting to scare her off, he cleared his throat, making as much noise as possible on his way to the fallen trunk.

Despite his efforts, she winced, covering lips like petal of rose flower with her delicate hands with elegant long fingers. Her doe eyes of colour of deepest sea gazed up at him. Recovering from the initial shock, she blushed, readying to run away.

"Don't! Please, stay. I mean no harm," he raised both of his hands, trying to calm her down. She was like a frightened animal. Rhysand assumed it would be for the best if he introduced himself.

"I'm Rhysand and I'm guest of the High Lord of Autumn. I was just on a walk when I noticed you sitting here alone. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

"What Court are you from? I happen to know all High Lords. I can help you get to the right one."

"I'm.. from here," she spoke shyly, her voice sounded to him like the sweetest melody. He swallowed hard, his palms sweating. What was wrong with him? He was feared High Lord who had more lovers in his life than he could count, yet he felt like inexperienced youngling.

"Can.. can I sit down here with you?" he asked out of breath.

How pathetic, Rhysand, he scolded himself. You finally found female of your dreams and you behave like total idiot. Bravo! She will certainly fall for you and agree to meet you again. You need to come with something better than this.

She bit on her lower lip, considering it, but at last she nodded, moving as far from him as she could. Rhys put on his most dazzling and kindest smile and sat down next to her. She blushed even more.

"The moon tonight is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord, I suppose it is."

Rhysand snorted. "I'm not your lord. Please, call me Rhysand or just Rhys if you want. How should I call you?"

Female nervously fidgeted her fingers. "I think I should go." She was about to stand up.

Rhys' hand shot up instinctively, his fingers firmly but gently wrapped around her wrist. Mother above, she was so small and fragile like a porcelain doll. "Please, stay. I understand. No names."

She weakly twisted her wrist in his grasp and he let her go. She sat back down and Rhys sighed with relief, licking his lips. He wanted to make her speak more, yearning to listen to her voice from now until the end of his life.

"Do you come out here often?"

"I'm not allowed to go out much," she whispered hardly audibly, her shoulders slumped.

"How so?" Rhys asked with concern, his gaze again roaming over her petite body. However, he didn't get the answer.

Eris emerged from between the trees, his features twisted in anger.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed and taking female's hand yanked her to his chest. He looked her up and down, checking her for any injury quite roughly.

"Hey! Stop treating her like that! You are hurting her, asshole," Rhysand couldn't stop himself, his mask naturally slid down to its place and he was again fearsome High Lord. He stood up baring his teeth, ready to fight him off if necessary. He wouldn't mind to even kill him to protect this Moon Princess, as he decided to call her until she told him her name, and maybe even after that.

Female's eyes widened at him, but she didn't dare to say a word.

"How did you get here, Rhysand?! This is a private place where guests aren't allowed. If anything, the fact that guards stand at entrance to the forest, should make it more than clear."

"And you," he turned to the female. "What did you do here with this bastard? Why didn't you immediately leave when he appeared? If he finds out what happened here, we both will have a serious problem! Do you even understand that?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to leave, but.." she mumbled, cringing, her face pale.

"But what?! Return to your room! Now!"

"I don't know and don't even care who she is to you, but I won't allow you to talk like that with her," Rhys grabbed front of Eris's shirt, staring him down. He was only a few inches taller than the Autumn heir, though the effect was the same.

Female gaped at him in shock, but as soon as Eris let go of her arm, she backed few steps, then turned around and ran away. Rhys wanted to ran after her to make sure she wasn't hurt, but he banned himself to even move. His outburst was bad enough, giving out too much.

They stared at each other, heaving.

"Back off, Rhysand!" Eris snarled lowly.

"No!" he growled back. "Who is she?"

"That's none of your business," Eris glared at him, unmoved.

"Now when I met her, it is my business. I won't just stand by and watch someone hurt females for absolutely no reason."

Pushing him away, Eris burst into fit of laughter. "Good joke, Rhysand, really. Maybe you should clean up your own yard before you start poking your nose into other people's affairs." With that he left, heading in the same direction as the female.

Rhys just stood there, taken aback, gazing after his receding back. He didn't want to admit it, but Eris was right. There was still too much to improve in his Court, but that didn't mean Eris had any right to point it out. In this regard, Autumn wasn't any better than Night.

Later that night Rhysand was pacing in their sitting room, while Azriel and Cassian watched him from couch with concern.

"Don't you want to finally tell us where you disappeared?" Cassian groaned, sipping his drink.

"Did you find anything out?" Azriel added. Ever since he returned he was frowning, angry that he not only couldn't find anything useful, but also that Beron's office and chambers were so warded that he wouldn't be able to get in even if he had a whole month for it.

"Nothing like that," Rhysand growled. The thought of the female and her scared gaze where eating him up. He needed to see her, to make sure she was all right. But where to look for her? Then his gaze fell to his brother, half hidden in his shadows. If anyone was able to find her, then only he.

"Fine, so listen up," he groaned. While still pacing back and forth, he told them everything about his encounter with her and described every detail he remembered.

Azriel listened him attentively, nodding at last. "I will look for her while spying around. But I have to warn you - don't keep high hopes. There's an entire part of castle where I nor my spies couldn't infiltrate no matter how many times we tried it. And we work on that for years. If she is held captive in this castle, they can keep her there."

Rhysand sighed and ran hand through his hair. Eris knew her, but he wouldn't tell him anything. Could she be his lover? Or some secret fiancée? Wife? Or she belonged to another Vanserra? Just imagining that such fragile, young female was here to satisfy Beron's needs made him feel sick.

He needed to calm down, to do something to change the flow of thoughts, so he stepped to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey. He emptied the glass in one gulp, the liquor burning his throat. He grimaced and poured himself another glass. He sat down.

Cassian and Azriel started to discuss something, but he couldn't focus on their words even if he wanted. He could still see her in front of him, surrounded by silver moonlight, beautiful and so unearthly. He was only snapped out of the memory when Cassian put his big hand on his knee.

"Stop it," he muttered in amusement. "It's nerve-wracking when you nonstop tap your foot. Even Azriel here is getting nervous because of you."

"I don't-"

"You do," Azriel nodded, corners of his mouth twitching. With raised brow he looked at Cassian. "What do you think? Finally?"

"Finally," general agreed.

Rhys was confused. "Finally what?" he snapped.

"You are in love," Cassian howled with laughter and Azriel joined him shortly.

"I'm not in love. I'm just worried," Rhysand retorted, crossing hands on his chest and almost tipped the drink on his expensive shirt.

"And now he's even blushing like an innocent schoolgirl," Cassian was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"What's so funny?" Helion appeared on the threshold, light smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing. They are just two bored idiots," Rhysand groaned. Helion was the last person he wanted to find out about his encounter. High Lord of Day was the worst gossiper in entire Prythian.

"Oh, c'mon. I want to laugh, too. I'm bored here. This is the worst Court to be in."

"Because you would like to make out with a certain lady who is out of your reach?" Rhysand grinned. This lifted his spirit a bit.

Helion groaned, flopping onto other couch. "Don't even remind me of that matter."

To that Cassian started to laugh even harder.

Helion frowned at him. "Is he okay?" Rhysand only shook his head.

"Two lovesick birds," Cassian tried to calm down, Azriel next to him was massaging his hurting cheeks. He hadn't laughed so much in ages.

Helion watched them with wolfish grin and shiny eyes. "Idiots or no, I'd love to see them worn out in my bed anyway."

Azriel stopped smiling immediately, the idea had never been to his taste. Cassian just shrugged. "Maybe some other time, but thanks," he playfully winked at Lord of Day who obscenely ran teeth over his lower lip.

"I'm already waiting for the day."

Rhysand cleared his throat, grinning. "So.. Did you come for something specific or just to make obscene proposal to my brothers?"

"Actually, yes," Helion smiled, still undressing his long-term targets with eyes. "I and other High Lords are worried. You certainly already heard about something going on between Autumn and Spring."

"Sure, I did."

"I didn't see Tamlin at party tonight. I have quite bad feeling about this."

"Me too, friend," Rhysand swirled the golden liquor in the glass. "Me too."

"I guess that you don't have more detailed information on this matter that you could share with me."

"Unfortunately, I know just as much as you and the others. Azriel here is trying to find out something while we are here and his spies are snooping around in Spring, but we haven't heard anything new from them, have we?" He turned to Shadowsinger who only shook his head.

"But if you find out something, you will share it with us, right?"

"Of course I will. I can imagine only one scenario in which Beron is after the access to the Wall and human lands. We both know very well what it would mean."

"Do you think that Tamlin would allow such thing?" Cassian asked seriously.

"We can only hope that he has enough common sense to not allow it," Rhysand emptied his second glass.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

The week of festivities passed quickly. Beron prepared all kinds of activities to keep his guests entertained. Rhysand had stopped counting the number of hunts, competitions and banquets he absolved right after the first day.

Azriel spent most of the time in the shadows, spying all around the castle, following Beron like hound, but there were no news about the female nor the plans Lord of Autumn had.

Rhys started to have very bad feeling about this all and grew nervous with every passing day in dark. He kept his eyes on Eris who was obviously ignoring him, hoping he would make a mistake and take him to the female. However, Eris, the cunning fox, after the first ball never left the room, participating on every event from the beginning to the very end.

When it was finally time for the last ball, Rhysand was so nervous and irritated that even his brothers were avoiding the conversation with him. And he wasn't the only one. All gathered High Lords seemed to have enough of this shit show and masquerade, waiting only for the big announcement.

That evening, the atmosphere in the ballroom was suffocating, none of the Lords bothered to tune off their powers anymore. When Beron with his family appeared on the dais, five pairs of hostile eyes gazed at him from the crowd, waiting.

Thank you for coming and blah blah blah, Rhysand didn't really listen that old asshole, not until Tamlin appeared on the dais next to Beron who announced that they were intending to make an alliance together. Tamlin seemed to be taken aback to see everyone and to hear that they spent the whole week here, so apparently he wasn't invited for the shit show nor Beron bothered to notify him about the recent events.

"And to confirm my good intentions, my only daughter, Selene, will marry Tamlin," Beron declared.

The wave of shock ran through the crowd. As it seemed, even Autumn aristocracy didn't know about the existence of the mentioned daughter. High Lords looked at each other. Their worst fears had come true. Beron was after free access to the Wall.

However, right at that moment, it was the last thing Rhysand cared about. The doors behind Beron again opened and from the dark of the hallway a small figure emerged. Dressed in dress of moonlight colour with dark brown waves styled into a complicated hairstyle, his Moon Princess walked into the room. She looked up and their eyes locked. Exactly as that night in the forest, her beauty took all the air from his lungs, but it wasn't the only thing that happened at that moment.

Something inside him broke, the crack so loud everyone in the room had to hear it. And in that hole in the middle of his chest, a shimmering gold thread formed, blooming like a flower. The thread shot out, bridging over the entire room. Gently touching his Moon Princess, it wrapped around her and bound their souls together.

Rhysand watched it all with wide eyes and slightly opened mouth. As understanding hit him, he wavered and took a small step back, shocked. Beron's daughter was his mate. The Mother had a strange sense of humor, but in certain way it made sense. The feeling he had when he saw her on the clearing, the pull, the need to make sure she was safe. Of course she was his mate.

"What's going on?" Azriel, always the most attentive, as the only one noticed his moment of weakness.

Rhys couldn't take eyes off of her, barely managing to force his lungs to work again. "She's.. she's my.." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Azriel's eyes also widened, jumping between him and the female. Even Cassian who overheard them, gaped at him.

"Are you sure?" Rhysand gave him a look and Azriel shook his head. "Of course, you are. Whatever you decide to do now, you can count on me," he said darkly, tendrils of shadows dancing around him.

"And on me," Cassian pat him on the back.

After the shocking announcement, the party was naturally over or at least for High Lords certainly, as they all left right away.

Helion stopped briefly at the doors of their chambers with grave expression to tell them that all the High Lords agreed that the wedding must not take place. For some reason they expected that the Night Court would take care of that, but they were ready to assist them if needed.

Honestly, Rhysand didn't remember much from what had happened after the bond snapped for him, not even how he got back home and to his bed. He lay there in the dark, unable to sleep, all the satin sheets suddenly too scratchy and insufferably hot. His mind was nonstop returning to the only thought - he had a mate and she needed his help.

He tried to analyse the moment when it snapped for him. He was curious whether she felt it too. Though, no matter how many times he replayed the scene in his head, he couldn't find a proof she felt it. Her eyes were sad, her expression shy and guarded. She walked into the room, stopped at Tamlin's side and accepted his waiting hand without a single wobble. She was shivering like leaf in the cold breeze, but all for the different reasons. At dawn he finally came to conclusion that she didn't know about the bond.

He kicked off the blanket and changed. He was determined to solve this problem as soon as possible. He wouldn't leave his mate in hands of any other male.

The Town House was completely silent when he ran down the stairs taking two at a time. The wedding was supposed to take place on the day of the autumnal equinox. That left him only a month to solve this. He didn't have much time and had to start right away. He rushed into his office, almost breaking the doors, and took a sheet of paper and a pen. Quickly he scratched letter and without reading it again sent it. He waited for the reply whole day, without leaving his office. He didn't even eat nor sleep. When there was no answer, next morning he wrote another letter.

Nobody came asking him what to do. His family already knew where they were needed the most. Azriel took all his spies and dividing them into two groups, he sent one group to Spring, the other one under his lead headed to Autumn.

Cassian collected all information and maps they had of the Forest House and looking for places where wedding could take place, he began preparing plans from kidnapping the bride before the ceremony to snatching her from groom's hands before they could say their yes.

Amren shut herself up in her apartment, searching old books with ancient magic for the ways how to break through wards.

For Mor, this was hard. She couldn't be much of help in this case, so she took it upon herself to take care of her cousin and made sure that he ate three times a day, took shower and tried to rest. She gladly accepted the role of an emotional support, listening to all his worries and self-loathing whenever he was in mood to talk.

On the fifth day when there was still no answer, Rhysand decided that he wouldn't wait any longer. He only had a limited amount of time and it was inexorably running out.

Without invitation he winnowed to the clearing near Tamlin's manor in Spring. As expected, it took only mere seconds and Tamlin appeared in his beast form, ready to turn the intruder into shreds. When he saw Rhysand waiting for him, he slowed down.

"What are you doing here?" he growled angrily. "I thought that not sending a reply is quite a clear answer."

"So you read the letters. I need to speak with you. You are doing enormous mistake-"

"That is not your business!"

"The problem is that it is my business. It's all High Lords' business, for the fuck's sake! You are going to open for Beron a way to the Wall!"

Tamlin snorted. "No, I'm not. I would do no such thing!"

"But yes, you are. Why else would Beron want to make an alliance with Spring?!"

"I can assure you that he won't get to the Wall."

"You are wrong and you know it. Whatever is going on, it won't take long and he will get what he wants."

Tamlin just gazed at him, muscles in his jaw ticking.

"What is it what you need so much that you are willing to work even with that old bastard, Tam?"

The beast's gaze wavered, but he wouldn't give in so easily.

"Tam, talk to me. We used to be friends and damn good friends. If it is a help you are looking for, I'll send you any kind of help. Do you need more soldier? You can have them. Money? Bride? Skilled officials to help you rule the Court? You can have it all, you just need to tell me. But don't go into alliance with Beron.."

Tamlin seemed to consider his offer. "I-.. I have tied hands.. I'm trying, but I shouldn't have been ruler.. I'm not built for state affairs. Everything is falling apart and now.. my advisers gave me an ultimatum.. They ask for heir otherwise they will leave me alone in this mess.."

Rhysand blinked in surprise at sudden honesty. With Tamlin, they had a lot of bad blood standing between them like a wall. Ever since Rhys' mother and sister were killed and he and his father killed Tamlin's family in return, they had hardly spoken. This was definitely progress or so he thought.

"I don't need your help, Rhysand," Tamlin murmured, "return to your Court before I make you." Tamlin pivoted, heading back into the forest.

Rhysand planned to solve this without mentioning Selene and the bond, but now there was no other way. Tamlin didn't want to listen and wouldn't accept his offer. This was the last thing that could change his mind.

"You can't marry her!" he called after Lord of Spring.

The beast stopped and looked back at him. "Why can't I?"

"Because.. she is mine."

Tamlin snorted, again moving.

"She's my mate." Rhys only whispered it, but the sweet spring breeze carried the words to his former friend. The beast halted in the middle of the step and fully turned to him. He searched him for any hint of lie, but when he found none, the emerald eyes widened.

"It snapped for me the moment she stepped into the ballroom and our eyes met. I think she doesn't know though," Rhysand continued quietly, hoping he would understand and cancel the wedding. All he needed, was more time to find a way to get her out of Autumn. He didn't ask for anything more. She didn't need to find out right away that he was her mate. He would be completely fine with only a friendship as long as he knew where she was and that she was safe.

Tamlin's eyes narrowed and darkened, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. "Don't worry," he said lowly. "I'll take good care of her. She will have anything she wants and I will protect her. I promise you."

"But will she be happy? Without her mate?"

"If she doesn't know about that, I see no reason why she shouldn't be. One can't mourn something they don't even know that exists."

"Tamlin, you don't understand-"

"But I do understand," he interrupted him. "See you at the wedding. Or rather not. Now we don't want to try our luck, do we."

"Tamlin!"

"Get lost!"

Rhysand fought against the magic of wards that after the dismissal was forcing him to leave. He wasn't done here yet. However, not even a High Lord could stay in other Court if the Lord there expelled them. Unwillingly he winnowed back to his house.

He stood in the middle of his office, heaving heavily. Tears gathered in his eyes. He ran hand through his dark hair and then dragged it down his face. He looked around, searching for something that could ground him, finding nothing. He fell to his knees and yelled so loud that walls shook.

In a blink of eye Cassian appeared at his side and clumsily held him, checking him for injuries. He seemed to be relieved to find none.

"He refused," Rhys sobbed. "I told him and he refused.."

"I'm so sorry, Rhys," Cass spoke kindly. "But.. We will solve this. Don't worry. We all will do our best to get her out of there."

Next week Rhysand's mood was switching between being furious, coldly calculating and falling into depression. At the end of the week, Azriel returned and whole Inner Circle gathered to share all facts they knew and come with some solution. As far as they knew, Selene lived in warded part of the castle where only family members and chosen maids could enter. Azriel spent the whole two weeks trying to break in but to no avail. Amren also had no luck with her research. Wards were a complicated ancient magic and to break through so strong ones, they would need a very powerful and dangerous magical object like Cauldron that was lost for centuries and they didn't have time to look for it anyway.

Rhys only sat there, gloomy, listening. He was again falling into depression.

"What if we got help from the inside?" Cassian suggested, looking around the table.

"From Vanserras?" Azriel looked up. His hazel eyes lit up with idea and he turned to Rhys. "I think that it's quite good idea."

"Thanks," Cassian grinned.

"And who would you ask for help?" Mor rolled eyes. "Beron? His wife? Or his rogue sons?"

Azriel didn't pay any attention to her insults and continued. "I think that the heir would be willing to help us if we convinced him."

Rhysand finally looked up, frowning. "He told me that he doesn't want to see me anywhere near her."

"Exactly! Don't you see it? Who let her out during the party when Beron was too busy to notice it? Eris. Who was out there protecting her? Eris. Who is often visiting the warded quarters despite having chambers in a completely different part of the castle? The answer is again Eris. I'll bet that he goes there only to visit her. Several times a day actually."

"Why should he want to help us to kidnap her?" Rhys shook his head.

"Because he cares for her," Azriel answered simply, tilting head to the side in disbelieve that Rhysand didn't get it yet. "I heard that he isn't thrilled for the coming wedding."

Rhysand clenched hands into fists, thinking. During the last two weeks they had tried everything and nothing worked, even Tamlin laughed him out. There was nothing else they could do except of waiting until the wedding day and then try one of the risky plans Cassian had prepared for that case.

At last, he nodded. "Fine then. Can you deliver message to him?"

Azriel smiled. "Gladly. If you write it right now, he can get it tonight."

Two days later, Rhysand winnowed to the river bend on the border of his Court and hid into the shadows under the trees, waiting. He didn't have high expectations, he was avoiding the hope so as not to be disappointed in the end. The time ticked by while he watched flowing river, but in his mind he saw only her, his Moon Princess bathing in the silver moonlight with shiny big eyes and soft smile on her lips. He could keep watching her lovely profile forever. If that was all he was allowed in this lifetime, he would die a happy male.

Thirty minutes later another male winnowed to the same bend of the river, his red hair looked like blazing flames in the setting sun. He eyed the empty river bank and nearby tree line with arrogant, bored expression. He crossed hands on his chest, glaring into the waters.

Rhysand stepped from his hideaway, casually walking with hands in the pockets to the place where the other male waited at. "I already started to think that you won't come," he tried his usual cocky tone, but even to him it sounded fake.

"You are the one who wanted to meet up at this.. where are we actually?" Eris raised a brow, disgusted.

Rhysand shrugged. "Just old campsite. Nobody is coming here anymore, not after what happened here. Old story. The most important is that we can talk here without being overheard."

Eris clasped hands behind his back. "So? What is so urgent? I'm busy with wedding preparations as you know."

"That's the reason why I need to speak with you." Rhys swallowed hard. He was preparing for this discussion ever since Azriel left with his letter in the pocket. Despite everything he decided to be honest for once instead of making up lies. "That wedding must not take place."

Eris raised brows at him. "Why?"

"Because..," he tried to say it aloud, but couldn't, "it can't happen."

"Good try, but I don't have time for this. So if you don't have any good reason for this, I'm leaving." He pivoted.

"She's my mate."

"What?!" Eris turned back to him so fast that he almost slipped on the stones.

"You heard me. Selene, your sister, is my mate."

Eris just gaped at him, eyes wide, but at least he wasn't about to leave anymore.

"The wedding is the biggest mistake. I don't think she knows about the bond, but she won't be happy. You have to help me stop it."

Eris's mask slipped down for a moment and Rhysand noticed pain hidden beneath. "I can't. It's too late."

"It isn't. They aren't wed yet, there's still time."

"And what do you expect me to do? Do you want me to go to my father and tell him: hey, forget about the alliance with Spring, her mate resides on the other side of Prythian? That would 100% work."

Rhys rolled eyes. "No, just help me get her out of there. If there is no bride, there won't be wedding nor alliance. This will solve all the problems at once and nobody gets hurt."

Eris snorted. "And what about her? What will happen to my sister?"

"She can live here, in my Court. I'll protect her, give her home and take good care of her. You will be welcome to come visit her anytime you want."

Eris shook head in disbelieve. "You will keep her at your side like some sustained lover? No, in such case she's better in Spring with Tamlin. I saw them talking together and he was really kind and respectful to her. That's what she deserves, Rhysand. The respect. There might be no love between them yet, but it can change in the future. He will provide her with the same things you are offering, but he will make her his wife."

Horrified, Rhysand took a step back. "Lover? What? Don't put words into my mouth. She doesn't know about the bond and I won't push her into relationship with me. If she wishes so, we will be friends. She decides what we will be, not me. But if the bond snaps for her and she accepts it, I'll more than gladly marry her right away. In my Court, she will have freedom she never had and in marriage we will be equal. In everything."

He gave him a doubtful look, laughing. "Equal? Mother's tits! I won't believe such empty promises."

"These are no empty promises, I'm serious. Can you see me laughing? I'll make even a bargain with you. If she agrees to marry me, she will be my equal. I'll make her a High Lady."

"There is no such thing as High Lady." Eris stuck out chin, narrowing eyes.

"Then she will be the first one. Do you want to bet?"

"No, but I want that bargain."

"Fine," Rhys smiled for the first time since he learnt that his Moon Princess is doomed to marry another male. "So, what do you want in exchange for your help?"

Eris tilted head to the side, pressing lips into thin line. "Help for help. When the time comes, you will help me get rid of my father."

"We have a deal." After wording their vows, smell of magic filled the air and a small tattoo appeared on their bodies.

"Great that you agreed so easily. I was ready to get down on my knees if necessary," Rhysand grinned.

"That sounds like a lot of fun. Especially, in this awful state you are in. I think I'm going to change my mind."

"Good you can't," Lord of Night patted his shoulder with new tattoo.

Eris barked with laughter.

"Now tell me, just out of curiosity, is Selene really your sister or just half sister? It doesn't really matter to me, I'm asking because-"

"She looks so different?" Eris finished the sentence with fox grin. "She is my sister. Frankly, she looks like clone of father's great grand mother. I would show you her picture, but.."

"No need. I believe you."

Eris raised his brows doubtfully.

"How exactly do you imagine her abduction to take place? If your spymaster can so easily get into my chamber, I'd say you don't need me."

"Believe me when I say that we already tried to get to her. Unfortunately, not even my brilliant spymaster can get through your father's wards. That's why we need your help."

"I see. I'm relieved to hear there are wards that can stop you and your people."

"If we weren't in such time crunch, we would find way in for sure. But we don't have so much time now," he winked. "All I need from you is to get her out of the wards inside the castle. It really doesn't matter whether you take her to your room or to that clearing, as long as she will be somewhere where we can get to her."

Next hour or so they spent discussing the details of the abduction, so the both sides knew the exact meeting place, time and what to do. When Eris left, Rhysand return back home, feeling much better. In good mood he shared the plan with Cassian and Azriel who would go into the action with him. Now he just needed to wait for message from Eris. If he hadn't seen with his own two eyes how much young heir cared for his sister, he would doubt his intentions. This all was possible only thanks to the exceptionally strong sibling love and overprotectiveness. In moments like this Rhys thought about his own baby sister. What would it be like if she was still here?

Days were passing one after another without any news from the Autumn heir until finally four days before the wedding a small piece of paper appeared on Rhysand's desk. He opened it and skimmed a neatly written short message.

Cassian! Azriel! he called in his mind.

Ever since he made the deal, they were staying in their rooms in the Town House instead of the House of Wind, just in case they would need to quickly move on. It took them only a minute to get to his office. As soon as they appeared on threshold, he happily waved the paper in the air.

"Get ready! We leave an hour after sunset."

Exactly one hour after sunset Rhysand winnowed the three of them to the Autumn Court's borders, the rest of the way they had to fly to avoid being detected by the magic of the wards that Eris inconspicuously lifted for several minutes.

Thankfully, wards around the Forest House weren't so hard to get through and Azriel could safely get them in without any help. Under the cover of night, Rhysand led them through the grounds to the clearing where they were supposed to meet with Eris and Selene. They slipped past the patrol on their way, unnoticed. Just to make sure they weren't walking into a trap, they silently landed in the forest and went on foot the rest of the way. Hidden in the dark shadows under the trees, they waited.

Ten minutes later, Eris appeared on the clearing dimly lit by the waxing moon. And he wasn't alone. Holding his hand, a small figure walked behind him.

"Be careful here," Eris kindly warned his sister and she smiled in answer.

When they stopped in the middle of the clearing, Selene looked up on the moon, bathing in the silver light. With her long hair down and in the snow white dress, she was stunning. Meanwhile, Eris intently gazed into the night, his body tense. Rhys nodded to his brothers and moved forward. They assumed she would be less frightened if he went first. He let the dry twig to crack under his boot on purpose, notifying them of his arrival.

Both siblings turned in the same time. Tension in Eris's shoulders melted away, replaced by sadness. Selene seemed to recognize him and shyly hid behind her brother.

The males nodded in greeting. "Everything okay?"

"Nobody saw us."

"And Beron?"

"Some kind of troubles with goods for wedding in the port."

Selene watched their quiet exchange calmly from behind the brother's back, curiously peeking at Lord of Night. She didn't seem to be surprised by the turn of events at all.

Rhys nodded at last and leaning to the side to get a better view, he smiled at her.

"Hey there," he said so softy he surprised even himself. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes, my lord," Selene answered shyly and hid even more into brother's shadow.

Rhysand huffed in amusement. "I thought we already had this conversation, darling. Only Rhys for you."

Eris winced at the way he addressed his sister, but didn't say a word. Instead he took his sister's hand and pulled her from behind him. "It's okay, dear. He's here to take you.. to safety."

She looked up at him with her big bright eyes, waiting. "I'm sorry, Sel," Eris continued, "I can't let you marry Tamlin. I genuinely think that he would be a good husband to you, but you wouldn't be happy with him. That's why you have to.." He couldn't finish the sentence, his voice failed him. Rhys noticed the tears in his eyes and decided to ignore them for now. He understood how hard this must be for him.

"So you allow me to leave with my mate?" Her silent question made them both gape at her in shock. Eris recovered as first and smiled sadly. He reached into the pocket between the words and pulled out a bigger bag.

"I- I packed you some clothes for the start.. and a couple of your favourite things.."

"You know about the bond?" Rhysand's heart stuttered. He didn't expect that.

She met his gaze for a second and quickly shied away, blushing fiercely. "Since the night we met here," she took her brother's sleeve between fingers and stepped closer to him, partly hiding behind him.

Rhysand was so happy that he couldn't find words. He had so many questions that he didn't know where to start. Cassian and Azriel quietly approached them and Selene's eyes widened with fear.

"That's okay, they won't hurt anyone. They are my friends who came to help me get you safely to my Court," Rhys held out hands, explaining. "This is Cassian, General of my armies, and this is Azriel, Spymaster. They are big, clumsy and quite grumpy, but both are very kind-hearted, I assure you. We grew up together like brothers."

When introduced, Cassian grinned widely and waved at her, while Azriel put hand on his chest and slightly bowed.

Eris scoffed, rolling eyes.

"It's time. We should go before someone notices she's gone," Azriel murmured lowly. He was right. It was too risky to stay here for too long.

Rhysand cleared his throat nervously and offered her hand. "Can we?"

She looked up at her brother questioningly. Eris's jaw tightened as he turned to face her. At first he only held her hands, suppressing his feelings, but then he broke and pulled her into a hug. He whispered her something in the ear and tried to wipe his tears away stealthily while pretending to clean some dirt from her shoulder.

They parted and Selene walked over to Rhys' group, her cheeks wet.

Eris sadly watched as Rhysand gently picked her up and handed her bag to Azriel. "Everything is going to be fine. He will take good care of you.. I'll visit you soon," he looked at Rhys who nodded in agreement.

"Anytime you want."

"Oh, and take this," Eris reached into his pocket and handed her a blank sheet of paper. She turned it in fingers, confused. "It's enchanted. If you want to talk with me, just write on the paper and it will teleport to me. When I answer, it will return. If there would be any trouble with it.." His eyes moved to Lord of Night.

"I'll gladly help you with it or you can write a letter and Azriel will deliver it for you."

The mentioned one nodded in agreement and opened the bag so she could put it in.

"I'll miss you, brother," she sobbed.

"I already miss you. Stay safe." Eris stepped away, hardly keeping his tears back. He put on his cool mask of heir, but his amber eyes were giving him away.

"Thank you," Rhysand swallowed hard, hardly suppressing his own emotions. "When you are ready, let me know. I owe you for this. And don't worry. She will be safe and well cared of. I'll write you when we arrive."

Eris only nodded, fists clenched at his sides and retreated a few steps to give them enough space. Rhysand summoned his wings and carefully took off followed by his brothers. Selene watched Eris until trees obscured her view. Then she wiped her tears and rested head on his shoulder. It took him by surprise and for a moment he forgot how to use the wings.

"Sorry," he apologised for the shock and she hummed in answer. He exhaled shakily, again feeling like a youngling on the first date. "A-are you scared? Of flying?"

"No," she whispered between sobs.

Rhys tugged her closer to his body, gently rubbing her shoulder with thumb. "I know it's kind of scary for you. You don't know me nor my family, but I promise I'll do anything to make you happy. And the bond.. I won't pressure you. It's up to you-"

"I want the bond," she said firmly, interrupting him. "I saw that we will be happy."

"You did?" Rhysand raised a brow. Eris probably failed to mention that his baby sister was a seer.

"Sometimes I see little flashes of my future. I knew that you will come for me."

He huffed. "Of course you did. You are the Moon Princess after all."

"Who's Moon Princess?" She seemed to calm down at last and stopped crying, but she stayed hidden in the crook of his neck.

"Well, she's someone my mother used to tell me a story about. Do you want to hear it?"

She nodded and so Rhys started quietly whispering the story into her ear while they were sliding through the peaceful night sky, heading to their own 'happily ever after'.

[alexfromjersey]

𝓓𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓥𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓼 & 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

jenna x g!poc

summary: jenna and jah going to the obstetrician. jah asking stupid questions.

warnings: jah being a comedian, mature language, partial smut

a/n: tumblr didn’t save the first draft 😭…anyway enjoy the chapter and a Jenna edit 🤭. also I’m not a medical professional. I tried to look up the actual terminology and stuff to be semi-accurate but I started to lose interest 😂 - 4.3k words

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

MAY 2023

“YOU GOT YOUR BACK BLOWN OUT BY KID CUDI?!? WHAT THE FUCK!” You shouted on the phone.

You and Jenna were currently on FaceTime, she was in her last fitting for her Met Gala outfit. She was bored waiting for the designer to come and make potential adjustments. So she called you to entertain her someway. She regrets calling you now.

You were doing your due diligence as a baby mama and friend to watch Jenna’s work. You started with The Babysitter: Killer Queen. It was alright in your opinion, you gave it a 7/10. Next, you watched The Fallout. It made you tear up and you applauded Jenna on her work. You considered it her best character.

Then, you watched both Scream movies and now you’re watching X. She tried to get you to not watch the movie by not even telling you about it. You had to look up her filmography to find out about it.

“You’re so lucky I have my headphones in” Jenna rolled her eyes.

“Nah you ain’t tell me this movie like that. I was jumpscared with so much ass and titties and now I gotta see you have sex with Mr. Day N’ Nite. Insane” You stated.

“I told you not to watch it. Actually I specifically remember withholding the information” Jenna said.

“Hm. They did you dirty by pairing you with that white man though” You shrugged and ate a fistful of popcorn.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled.

Your eyes slowly drifted away from the movie to the phone screen. Jenna was preoccupied fixing the nail polish on her nails. She was doing something so simple yet captivating. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The feelings you felt for her was starting to scare you.

“So, Nancy helped me book an appointment with the obstetrician not far from you” Jenna spoke bringing you out your thoughts.

“You did it for here? Why not back in your hometown, you know to be closer with your family” You questioned.

“It was the best one and…I always wanted to live in New York. I also want to be far away as possible from my mother when I tell her that I’m pregnant” Jenna smiled.

You laughed taking in the information, “When’s the appointment?”

“Tomorrow morning, 9am” Jenna replied.

“I’ll be there” You playfully salute to her. You turn your attention back to the movie. It was now on the part where the white man get killed by the old lady brutally.

“Speaking of families, how exactly are you going to tell yours?” Jenna asked.

“I’ll just call my brother and tell him. Now, for my mom, I’m gonna need a police riot shield” You huffed.

"You and I are in the same boat. I'm praying for you more though" Jenna said.

Your head snapped toward her, "Nah, don't say that."

Jenna chuckled at the expression on your face. The door behind her opened and the designer walks in. "I have to go. I'll call you later" Jenna said.

"Okay...wait you don't get your back broken like a glow stick anymore in this movie right?" You jokingly asked.

Instead of a verbal response, you got the sound of the FaceTime call ending. You laughed out loud and placed your phone on the charger and turned back to the movie.

Meanwhile with Jenna, she rolled her eyes secretly amused as she hung up on you. It was starting to get hard for her to ignore the growing feelings she had for you. She stalked your Instagram, staring at each photo for at least 10 minutes. She stayed up late last night and watch all your YouTube videos.

“Okay, since you’re not showing yet. The dress still fits perfectly but we will loosen it up around the waist just touch” Thom complimented.

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror, “I feel good in it. It feels good, I’m really happy with it” Jenna smiled.

Thom and Jenna continued discussing the dress some more before Thom had to leave to another client. He bid Jenna a bye and congratulations and left the building. Now, it was just Enrique, Nancy, Hudson, and Big L in the room.

A phone alert has Jenna snapping her head to her phone but unfortunately it was not her phone that made the sound. Enrique snorts at Jenna’s actions. An embarrassed blushed appears on her face.

“Shut up Enrique” Jenna mumbled.

“I’ve never seen like this before. It’s adorable” Enrique chuckled.

“It’s just hormones” Jenna lied.

“Yeah no it’s not. You know it’s okay to like her right. I mean the both of you kinda skipped a couple of steps but it’s good to backtrack” Enrique joked.

Jenna playfully punched his shoulder which made him laugh. Nancy let out a little giggle at the home. Hudson just grumbled something incoherent to himself.

“What does she look like anyway? I wanna see if your baby is going to be ugly or not” Enrique said.

Jenna rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone. She went to Instagram and went to your profile.

“This is the most recent photo” Jenna said.

liked by jennaortega, davis, and 12,683 people

bronxshiesty no bite marks no scratches and no hickeys

“Oh my….she got a brother?” Enrique asked.

Jenna laughed, “She does actually but he lives in Barbados.”

“I always wanted to go to Barbados. When’s my vacation?” He joked.

Jenna just shook her head while laughing. She carefully took off the dress and Enrique hung it up on the mannequin.

“You know it still hasn’t fully hit me that you’re about to become an actual mother. Shit is wild” Enrique commented.

“You and me both. I downloaded this pregnancy app and currently my baby is the size of a large strawberry” Jenna smiled and placed her hand on her stomach.

“Ain’t all strawberries large though?” Nancy questioned.

“I guess not” Jenna shrugged and sat down in a chair. Her stomach growled loudly.

“Get used to that. You’re gonna wanna eat twice more than usual.” Nancy said.

A text message alert can heard throughout the room. Jenna picked up her phone.

NYC 🩵: yo u got anything else to do today?

Hollywood 🤰🏻: no I’m free for the rest of the day

Hollywood 🤰🏻: why?

NYC 🩵: I want to see you

Jenna’s heart fluttered at the message. She bit her lip and smirked.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: what are we gonna do?

Jenna watched as the text bubbles appear and then disappeared. It happened a few more times before the text bubbles stayed.

NYC 🩵: i mean…whatever you wanna do shawty. I’m down with whatever 😁

“Let me guess, it’s her” Enrique smirked and tried to peek at Jenna’s phone she turned away. “Ohh not y’all sending spicy messages”.

“We’re not sending spicy messages. She just said she wants to see me” Jenna smiled.

“See you as in watching movies or see you as in Neighbors know my name?” Enrique joked.

Suddenly, a loud slam can be heard throughout the room. Everyone looked confused at the sudden sound and disappearance of Hudson. But shrugged it off.

Hollywood 🤰🏻: I’m hungry

NYC 🩵: what u want

Hollywood 🤰🏻: seafood

NYC 🩵: u like seafood boils? I know a banging spot that I can get

Hollywood 🤰🏻: absolutely

NYC 🩵: bet 🫡

“You’re all finished for the day Jenna. Go spend it with your baby momma” Nancy said.

“Thanks guys” Jenna said and grabbed her things. She hugged Enrique and Nancy before walking to the door.

“Don’t get pregnant…oh wait” Enrique joked.

Jenna stuck up her middle finger and Enrique and Nancy’s laugh can be heard as she left the room.

🤰🏻🩵

45 minutes later, Jenna finally arrived at your apartment. She texted you that you were here. A couple of minutes later, you came down in a gray tank top, gray shorts, and your slides.

“Yo Hollywood” You greeted and helped her out of the SUV. Jenna smiled and wrapped her arms around your waist. It was unexpected but you wrapped your free arm around her back and hugged her tight.

Jenna looked up you with a certain spark in her eyes. You noticed but decided to look away from her.

“Big L, I got you a boil too. You ain’t allergic to seafood right?” You asked.

“Nah I’m not. Appreciate it though” Big L said appreciative and took the bag of food. You nodded in response.

The two of you then head into the apartment complex. You lived on the 6th floor of the building, the nicest floor out the entire building. When you applied for the place, the landlord tried to stick you in a moldy and roaches infested apartment but one of the neighbors put you on game and helped you get this one.

“Welcome to mi casa” You said as you walked into your apartment. It was two bedroom and one bathroom. Their was music softly playing throughout the apartment from your speaker on the counter.

Jenna looked around the thankfully, clean apartment.

“Not bad” Jenna playfully shrugged.

“Yeah it’s not the high rise, plants in the windows, Hollywood type of apartment but it’s something” You chuckled.

Jenna giggled and sat down at the dining table with the food.

“I didn’t get yours with sauce on it. I got it on the side, it’s a Cajun style sauce and it’s a little spicy. I looked up if pregnant woman can eat spicy stuff, they said it was safe but might cause heartburn or indigestion so I also got a lemon garlic sauce too just in case.” You ranted.

Jenna looked at you with admiration in her eyes, “Thank you. I like spicy stuff so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

You smiled and the two of you engaged in a light conversation as you ate. You took the sausages from her bag and you gave her your corn. You also helped her with cracking the crab legs open and showing her how to get the meat in one piece.

You and Jenna finish your food and clean up before sitting on the couch. You sat in the middle while she sat at the end with her back against the armrest and her feet in your lap.

“Are you wishing for a boy or girl?” Jenna asked.

“I’m wishing for a healthy baby. I genuinely don’t care if it’s a boy or girl” You shrugged.

“Good answer. I want a girl though” Jenna said.

“That’s surprising. Most mothers want boys” You said.

“Girls are more fun in my opinion. But either way I’m going to love our child regardless of gender” Jenna stated.

She then sat up, scooted closer, and looked at the number tattoo on your wrist. “What’s this mean?”

“It’s my angel number. 555. It’s means change. Changes are coming and that I shouldn’t be worry or scared just have trust in the process” You explained.

“What about this one?” Jenna said as she pointed to another tattoo. This one was a small writing.

“Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes. It was my second ever tattoo. Believe it or not I was a shy kid before my junior year. I used to let people walk over me and bully me and take me for advantage. That was until the last day of sophomore year, I was on the yearbook committee and I had a really good idea but I was too scared and one of the other students stole it and took credit for it. My yearbook teacher pulled me aside one day and told me she knew I was the one that came with the idea. She told me, “you’re never going to get what you want if you never speak up. Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes because you never know who could be listening”. It’s a quote that stuck with me ever since” You explained.

“You had a great teacher” Jenna commented.

“Yeah, she reached out to me a couple of months ago and told me she loved my videos. It was wholesome” You smiled. Your hand start to rub her thigh unconsciously. “What about you? You got any ink?” You asked.

“Nope. I want one though. Maybe for my first one I’ll get our baby’s name behind my ear” Jenna answered. You nodded in response and continued rubbing her thigh. Your eyes kept looking down to her soft lips.

You wanted to feel them on yours, it’s been a minute since you felt any intimacy. You were longing for her soft touch.

Jenna’s eyes traveled down to your hand. She was starting to grow hot. Her hormones making it very difficult to keep in check.

“Jah?” Jenna called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“Kiss me” Jenna demanded softly.

You leaned in and connected your lips to hers. Jenna immediately deepened the kiss as soon as she could. She climbed into your lap and her hands were placed on your cheeks. You placed your hands on hips. The kiss was starting to get sloppy and eager.

Jenna pulled away and took off her top leaving her in her navy blue bra. Her lips then latched onto your neck.

“You know…we should…talk about our relationship” You struggled to get out due to the pleasure.

Jenna placed butterfly kisses on your neck until her lips found your pulse. She then began to suck on the area. Your hands gripped her waist tighter and a small hiss escaped your lips. She smirked against you, happy that she found your sweet spot. She continued sucking until she felt satisfied with the hickey she left on your skin.

Your lips connect once more, your tongues clash and you slide your right hand up her back. Your fingers find her bra strap and with one hand you undo it. You help her pull it off your body. This time your lips leaves hers and attach them to her sweet spot. A sigh of pleasure leaves her lips and her hand gets tangled in your hair.

Your left hand grabs onto her slightly larger breast and begins to massage them.

Thank god for this pregnancy.

Your fingers rolling and pleasurably tugging at her hardened nub. The hand in your hair start to scratch at your scalp which felt really good. You take your attention away from her hickey littered neck.

Yikes, her make up person is going to have a field day with that.

Your lips clamp around her nub. Your tongue swipe over it a few times before sucking on it.

“Oh my god” Jenna moaned softly.

You let your teeth graze over it just a tad bit before switching your attention to the other breast. While you were giving her breasts attention, Jenna slipped down a little to sit on your knees before her hand found it’s way into your sweatpants. Her warm hand quickly found their prize. The long and girthy beast that was growing in your pants.

You pull away from her breasts and look into her lust filled eyes. You lifted your hips and pushed your sweatpants along with your underwear off your hips. Jenna got up from your legs and pushed the rest of it off your legs. She got on her knees in front of you.

Her small hand wrapped around your third leg. It jerked in her hand at her touch which she smirked at. She placed small kisses up and down your shaft until she got to the tip. Her tongue circled around it, her eyes never leaving yours. You lick your lips as she takes you into her mouth.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your head fell back against the cushions and your right hand tangle themselves in her hair.

One hand at the base of your shaft and the other rested on your thigh. Jenna started to bob her head up and down. Her muffled moans sending vibrations against your member which made you hiss.

“Damn girl” You hissed and licked your lips. You pushed her head down farther. You were deep in her throat, tears were pooling in her eyes. Jenna then took you fully in her mouth, her nose was touching your pelvic area. Your eyes slightly widened, you can feel her uvula grazing across you. She stayed there for a second, flexing her throat until it got hard to breathe and she pulled you out of her mouth. Her hand continuing to pump your length.

Once she got her breath back, she swallowed you while again. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and helped her bob her head up and down at a fast pace.

You were close, the knot in your stomach started to tighten.

“Fuck Jenna” You moaned.

Her nails dug into your thigh, enjoying the way your tip abused the back of her throat. You start to pant as you got closer and closer. Before you knew it, you halted her head before you felt your length twitch as it emptied into her mouth.

You relaxed into the couch, sweat glistening on your face. Jenna milked you for every last drop before she pulled you out of her mouth. She showed you the thick substance in her mouth before closing it and swallowing.

“Me gusta esa mierda extraña (I like that freaky shit)” You spoke.

“You know even though it’s sexy. It’s not fair when you speak Spanish knowing I have no clue what you’re saying” Jenna pouted.

“Chupa para chuparte fraude (Sucks to suck you fraud)” You shrugged with a chuckle.

Jenna sucks her teeth before standing up. She goes to walk away but you grab her hand.

“I’m joking. I’ll teach you Spanish if you want me too” You said. She stood in front of you. You pulled her down and interlocked your lips again. This kiss you guys took it slow, building the mood again, even though it technically never left. You pulled her pants down her legs until she kicked them off somewhere.

You stood up and hoisted Jenna up. She wrapped her legs around your waist. You walked until her back made contact with the wall in your bedroom. Your fingers pulled her underwear to the side and you ran your middle finger through her folds.

Damn, she was mad wet. She got that WAP.

Your middle finger massaged her clit. A whine left her lips as you flicked her clit and her hand gripped the back of your neck.

“Jah…” She moaned.

Unbeknownst to you, she was close to the edge. Usually, she lasts a lot longer than this. You barely touched her and she was already close to the edge. This pregnancy was making everything heightened.

You pull her from the wall and lay her on the bed. You were on your knees to the side of you, you took her underwear off before you slipped your middle and ring finger inside her.

“Fuck!” Jenna gasped.

Your long fingers worked their magic, quickly finding the rough spongy spot inside her. A loud moan ripped through her as she arched her back. Her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I’m…about to cu-” Jenna choked on her words as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She stilled with her back arched to sky and eyes squeezed shut. There was a pool under her and your hand was soaked to the max.

You were slightly surprised at how fast she came. You didn’t complain though.

“Holy shit, that was intense” Jenna swallowed harshly. She relaxed her body on your bed, her chest was still rising and falling rapidly.

“I’m good at what I do” You smirked.

Exhaustion creeped in and Jenna struggled to keep her eyes open.

“No way I just fingered you to sleep” You laughed.

“Shut up” Jenna mumbled sleepily.

You chuckled as you grabbed some boxers from your drawer and pulled them on. You grab an old T-shirt from your drawer.

“Here put this on” You said and handed her the T-shirt. Jenna lazily put it on while you changed the blanket on your bed. Jenna crawled into your soft queen sized bed and curled up in your blanket.

You locked up your place and put the blanket and her clothes in the wash. Before going back to your room to see Jenna fast asleep. You climbed in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. As soon as you closed your eyes, you felt Jenna scoot closer to you. You turned your head towards her to see her grabbing your hand. You placed your hand in hers and she placed it on her stomach. You turned your body to her, spooning her. She relaxed into your hold and fell back asleep. You soon followed with a big smile on your face.

🤰🏻🩵

It was the next morning, you and Jenna were currently at the obstetrician's office waiting for the doctor to return to do the physical exam. The two of you got to know Dr. Nightngale better and vice versa. Her daughter was a fan of Jenna's which didn't bother or surprise the girl.

When it came down to asking questions about the other parent, Dr. Nightingale was stunned to learn that you were. Questions were thrown at you, which didn't bother you. You were used to people asking questions about being intersex. You were asked questions about it from the minute you could speak full sentences.

When you were younger, you used to go into full details but they got boring real quick. So you opted to tell people a quick summary. Which was 'I was an experiment from Area 51. My father was a spy that fell in love with an alien'. Most people didn't find it funny.

“What to expect when expecting?” You read aloud. It was a pamphlet that you picked up from the front desk. All morning you were reading up on anything related to pregnancy. You wanted to at least have a little bit of knowledge of what’s happening. Plus, it was kinda interesting learning about everything.

“Holy shit” You gasped as you were instantly hit with the sight of a stretched-out vagina…not the kind of stretched you want.

You look at the pamphlet with a disgusted look and then over to Jenna. The girl looking at you with an amused expression.

“I’m so sorry” You apologize to the girl.

A knock on the door was heard and Dr. Nightingale came in.

“Alright, Ms. Ortega and Ms. Jimenez are you guys ready to see your little bundle of joy," Dr. Nightingale asked.

Jenna was laid back in the exam chair with a sheet covering her breasts. Her slightly protruding belly was out in the open. You got up to stand next Jenna and also see the screen. You felt a shaking hand grab yours.

"You okay?" You asked the shaking girl.

"I'm nervous. I'm finally realizing how real this is" Jenna gulped.

"It's normal to be nervous. But I'm right here." You reassured the girl. She gave you a smile and a quick squeeze of your hand. Dr. Nightingale smiled at the interaction between the two of you. She put the gel on the medical instrument.

"Okay, this is going to be cold." Dr. Nightingale warned. She put the instrument on Jenna's belly, who flinched slightly at the sudden coldness of the gel. She moved the instrument around a little before a little body appears on the screen. The room was then filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"Oh my god" Jenna gasped at the screen. Her eyes started to fill up with tears at the sight. You, on the other hand, couldn't stop looking at the screen. You had a huge smile on your face.

"Your baby has a strong heartbeat. You are about 11 weeks pregnant. 2 months almost 3 if you like to go by months. Judging by the date of conception, you are due to give birth on November 28. But there's also a possibility that you could give birth in December" Dr. Nightingale said. She starts to take pictures of the baby.

“A Sagittarius baby…oh lord” Jenna joked.

“Better than a Scorpio” You shrugged.

Dr. Nightingale continued the exam. Everything coming up clear for both the baby and Jenna which you were happy about.

“When are we able to know the gender?” Jenna asked.

“By 14 weeks but I like to do it around 19-20 week mark so it can be accurate” Dr. Nightingale asked.

“What about sex?” You impulsively asked.

“Jah” Jenna sighed and rolled her eyes.

“What? It’s a smart question to ask” You defended.

Dr. Nightingale laughed, “One of the most common questions we get. Sex is completely fine to continue doing. It’s actually beneficial, it can ease discomfort or pain, great for physical health, and a good partner bonding experience. But I would highly recommend still using condoms because STI/STDs are still a thing.”

You smirked and nodded at the response. Jenna just smack your arm as she rolled her eyes.

“Any more questions?” Dr. Nightingale asked.

The both of you shook your heads no.

“Okay, well that is it for today. I’ll see you guys next month. Congratulations to you both” The older woman smiled and left the room. You helped Jenna wipe the gel off her stomach and she puts her shirt back on.

“You know…last night I said something to you. We were kind of busy so I don’t know if you heard me” You said.

“What did you say?” Jenna asked.

“I said we should talk about this. You know…us” You gestured to the two of you.

“What’s there to talk about? We’re just two people who had sex and are now having a baby together.” Jenna shrugged.

You furrowed your face, “Is that how you see us? Just two people having a baby?”

“Not just two complete strangers. Like friends” Jenna said. She watched you as you stared at her with no emotion on your face.

“Friends” You muttered and nodded.

Not gonna lie, the statement hurt you. You didn’t want to be just friends with her. You wanted to be more. You liked her and you thought she liked you too but you guess wrong. You respected her decision though despite the mental pain it brought you.

Just friends…

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[2baabbies]

🖤 Summer in Winter (faerie!felix x human!reader)

I’ve been working on drafts of this since last October so I think it’s just time to post it lol

Words: 4200

Summary: Felix visits often, but is usually gone when you wake up in the morning. Wouldn't it be nice if he stayed?

Fantasy + Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: none really, maybe pining?, implied scary fae lore but not elaborated on

Smut Tags: use of pet names, confessions during sex, chatty sex, light teasing, fingering, praise, so kissy and cuddly waaa, some dry humping, cunnilingus, reader is desperate af/slight begging, Penetration™️ (p in v), unprotected sex (practice safe sex pleeeease), creampie

@bookswillfindyouaway @rixenluv

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Perhaps it should feel abnormal to welcome the fae into your home, knowing the warning tales you grew up with as a child, but it does not. Especially when it is Felix. He was the first to find you when you moved into this new town- the first you trusted- and he only makes his presence more apparent once the cold winter hits. His visits become more intimate than they were in the warmer seasons, when he would linger at the edge of the treeline and watch you garden until you left a gift for him near the brush. Now when he visits he comes right to the door, asks to be let in, then sits and chats with you late into the night. Sometimes he is there when you wake up, puttering around the kitchen or reading in the living room. Sometimes he is not, and your gut sinks just a bit.

There is no name for your relationship, but you feel the tension building all the same. Felix, always a gentleman, sleeps on the living room couch when he stays over. But the unsaid ‘what if’ lingers in your mind at the end of each night, when you curl up alone in your own bed after long conversations by the fireplace. You try to stay awake and listen for his footsteps on his way out, but you never do hear them. 

One night, hours after you have retreated to your room for bed, you use the excuse of needing a drink of water to see if he has left yet. You are slightly surprised to see him still on the couch, his eyes shut and his breathing slow as if he is in a deep sleep.

Your heartbeat quickens as you look him over, you note how the moonlight catches the softness of his lips and the highlights in his golden hair. His pointed ears and nimble fingers twitch when the floorboards creak as you creep into the room. His freckles and delicate cheeks still charm you even if they are barely visible in the dim light. His eyes open slowly as he turns his head to look at you; lazily, eyelids half-lidded to give the impression that he was truly sleeping, but his sudden awareness breaks the façade.

“Can’t sleep, darling?”

His voice is gentle and a little deeper than normal, which rumbles you in a pleasant way.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Ah, let me.”

He rises from his spot and gracefully steps out of the room. You remain where you stand, waiting as you hear the glasses clink and the tap run. He returns and regards you calmly as you blink the sleep away.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

He guides a glass of water into your hand and tidies your hair where it was mussed by your pillow.

“I’m fine.”

You sip your water as he hums quietly.

“You just look like you have something to say.”

“When do you go back to the forest?”

He cups your cheek with a soft smile.

“When I know you’re asleep, and safe.”

“You don’t have to wait for me to fall asleep, you know. You can leave whenever you want.”

“But wouldn’t you be disappointed?”

Your cheeks flare as you feel caught.

“Does that matter?”

“It wouldn’t to some.”

Your heart skips.

“But it does to you?”

“Of course.”

“You really don’t have to stay, Felix.”

“I know, but I have to know you’re alright. I’ll just keep thinking about you if I leave now.”

His response may as well be a confession with the way Felix says it, and you do not know how to react. You blink a few times, suddenly sure you must be dreaming or hallucinating this. His warm hand on your cheek, caressing you gently, reminds you that this is real. 

“You will?”

It is all you can manage and your voice quivers out at the end of the question. You shiver and let him take the glass from your hand. Perhaps you are both nervous that you will drop it with how shaky his words have made you.

“You should get back in bed, sweetheart.”

You nod and let him lead you back to your bedroom. He sets the glass down as you crawl into your bed. You gaze up at him in the dark, feeling him pull your blanket up and tuck you in.

“Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Will you lay with me?”

He pauses as he contemplates your request.

“I’m cold,” You add, desperate to convince him.

“It is cold, isn’t it?”

You say nothing as Felix lifts the blanket and slides in beside you, but feel a bit of pride that he accepted your invitation. You try not to dive into his arms as they come around you, try to restrain yourself from melting immediately when you breathe in his fresh summer scent. He lays his head on the pillow next to you and, very loosely, embraces you. The position is a little awkward, but you are too embarrassed to move any closer.

“You avoided my question earlier,” You murmur into the pillow, half-hoping he ignores you.

“Hm, what was the question, darling?”

“Do you really think about me when you leave?”

You shut your eyes, your face feels on fire.

“Oh, always.”

“Always?”

Felix sighs softly and whispers, “I can’t think about anything else sometimes. It’s… difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because… I can’t help but fret over you. I wonder if you’re eating, and if you’re sleeping. I wonder who you are seeing. I wait helplessly when you go far away. I worry something wicked will find you, you sweet thing. And to be worrying like that all the time, it can make a faerie weak.”

You open your eyes and meet Felix’s gaze, longing and tired as he watches you.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Always on my mind. Isn’t it shameful?”

“Why would you be ashamed?”

“Doesn’t it make you feel ashamed?”

You swallow.

“Not because… I think those feelings are wrong. Well, actually, that’s a lie,” You laugh breathlessly, “My whole life I’ve been told how dangerous your kind is, and not to let myself get trapped in fae magic. And love is a sort of trap, right? It’s vulnerability, it’s deals and promises, and in theory I should be wary. But I’m already so far gone, so what am I holding back from? But I don’t necessarily think these feelings are bad or want them to stop. God, I never want this to stop. I’m so happy with you. I just don’t know. I don’t know what to say, and I know I’ll say something that will make me more anxious because…”

You trail off as you notice Felix watching you with wide eyes.

“Because of this. Because I’ll run my mouth and regret it afterwards,” You finish.

“Oh,” Felix answers carefully, “You think wanting me would be wrong. Because you’re a human.”

“No, I-I don’t. I don’t care if it’s right or wrong, I just… I get embarrassed because I don’t know how to make it make sense to both of us. I can’t speak in front of you.”

“You’re speaking right now.”

You laugh at his teasing lilt.

“Yeah, and making a fool of myself.”

“Well, then you understand my predicament.”

“I don’t.”

“The feeling you’re describing now, this fear you have, I feel it every day when I leave you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And it is so, so relentless.”

He continues to stare, patiently awaiting your reply. You shudder at the intensity in his eyes and they soften, before he pulls you closer.

“Are you still cold, my darling?”

You tense as he pulls you in. Your head comes to his chest and he slips his thigh between your legs. Your bodies curl together and his arms hold you a little tighter, with more certainty than before. You shakily squeeze him back, but the closeness is not what makes you shiver.

My darling. 

The alteration to your pet name is intentional.

“Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…”

He chuckles and your lips shut tightly.

“Yes?”

“Do you feel the same way?”

“I do.”

“Can you kiss me?”

He pulls back to look down where your head rests on his chest, and you look up.

“I could kiss you. That is certainly within my abilities.”

“You’re- ugh.”

You both laugh as he presses his forehead to yours. You begin to realize how warm he is, how every spot where your body touches his is soothed. His magic seeps into your body, making your chest tighten and stomach flip. The heat is almost too much, almost burning, but you refuse to move away. Everything intensifies when the laughter dies down and he finally kisses you.

His mouth moves slowly against yours, giving you time to register the contact and adjust to it. Your thighs tense as you press closer, and you feel his thigh move just a bit higher to put some pressure between your legs. You gasp and he breaks away, enough so you can both pant into the space between you. You duck your head as your cheeks heat up again and he gives you an experimental nudge. You barely muffle a moan in his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, how does that feel?”

You try not to rut yourself on his thigh but he pushes against you again, and you instinctively roll your hips to chase the pleasure.

“A-Ahn, nice,” You cry softly.

“Nice?”

You bite your lip and look up pitifully as he leans back to take you in.

“Mh-hmnn…”

“Oh, you are precious.”

You whimper at his tone, somehow sounding both enamored with you yet taunting your reactions.

“I haven’t…”

“Hm?”

“H-haven’t b-been touched in a while…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, “Would you like me to help with that?”

You nod and shakily exhale. He smiles and pulls his leg from between yours to replace it with his hand. You make a wrecked sound as his palm presses through your pants to cup your pussy. You whine and throw your head back as he rolls his wrist and spreads your legs wider.

“Fe-elix…”

He makes a pleased sound and, very chastely, kisses the dip of your throat. This draws a longing moan from you.

“Lovely little thing. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since I met you, you know? Not a day that I’m not thinking about you. You’re so much trouble.”

“M’sorry,” You moan.

“Mhm, are you? Does it not excite you a bit, to have me in the palm of your hand?”

You laugh at the irony as he draws his hand away.

“I-I didn’t know…”

“Oh, I know,” He breathes as he brushes his hand over your abdomen, “My sweet girl.”

You moan in agreement as he slips his hand down your pants and beneath your panties. His middle finger brushes over your clit then he curls the first digit between your folds. You jolt at the intrusion and tuck your face in his neck as he lovingly pets your hair. Soft sounds escape your lips as his finger carefully swirls inside you.

“M’sensvmmm…”

“Hm, darling?”

You buck your hips and whimper as he finally thrusts his finger to the hilt.

“M’sensitive…”

“I know, sweetheart. You like it though, right? Feels good?”

“Mh-hmn…”

You are adjusting to his touch now, and begin rocking your hips as he adds another finger. He presses a kiss to your temple and cups the back of your head as he begins thrusting his fingers faster. You tense under his touch, becoming more wound up as he settles into a rhythm. You make a desperate sound when he spreads his fingers open and grazes his thumb over your clit.

“Felix,” You sigh, “Oh, Fe-elix…”

He chuckles and noses at your scalp as you press closer.

“You sound lovely, my darling. So good for me.”

Something snaps when he speaks and your climax hits you suddenly. Your body shudders from the intensity as he coaxes you through it with quick pecks and careful attention on your clit. You take in a gasping breath before his lips crash into yours, swallowing up your sounds of pleasure. His touch slows, but does not stop, as your legs tremble and you become boneless in his arms. He breaks the kiss and smiles as you whimper and twitch against him.

“Nhnnn…”

“Good?”

You nod sleepily as he finally slides his hand out of your pants. He gives his fingers an experimental lick and smirks as you throw your head back with a groan.

“You’re too much…”

“Hm, get some sleep, my love.”

Your head snaps back and he pecks your forehead as you stare blankly at him.

“Hey, w-wha-”

“Hm?”

“Um, we’re going to bed after doing that, are you kidding me?”

He chuckles.

“You’re not tired?”

“You’re not… horny?”

Felix laughs and blushes as you pout at him. He swipes his thumb over your hip as he speaks.

“I have patience, darling. I waited this long for a moment to lay next to you, I’m sure I can wait a bit longer.”

You huff as you move to straddle his hips. He lets you shove him to the bed and stares up expectantly as you settle on top of him.

“What if you don’t have to wait?”

His eyebrow cocks up and his eyes rake over your body.

“Impatient, are we?”

You give your hips a tentative roll and bite your lip to muffle the whimpering gasp that threatens to spill out. Your clit is still throbbing, but your desire outweighs your sensitivity. You grind down again and smirk as you draw a groan from him. His hands fly to your hips and hold you in place as he bucks up to meet your thrusts. You giggle as you lean down to kiss him, which he returns eagerly. You lean away with a smirk.

You squeal when he flips you over and dives in to kiss you again, nibbling at your lips and peppering your face with sweet pecks. Delight bubbles in your chest as your abdomen swirls with desire. His hips are pressing against yours so you can feel his cock strain through his pants and the contact makes your head spin. He nuzzles his nose against yours and smirks at your moans.

“Do you want me, sweetheart?”

He pulls back slightly to look at you. You blink dazedly, still feeling drunk on your last orgasm and the heat of him on top of you. You spread your legs wider to let him press closer, which he does. You nod as you throw your arms over his shoulders.

“Of course, Felix. Do you want me?”

“I do,” He murmurs, “Every touch. Every kiss. Every moment. I want to take care of your every desire.”

“My desire is that you fuck me.”

He laughs.

“I will… do that, yes. I’m more than happy to…”

You laugh at how his usual eloquence has dissolved into sultry rambling, and draw him in for another kiss. You part your lips and he laps into your mouth, his hips jumping at the moans you let out. He slides your pants and panties down, allowing you to shimmy them off. You start to pull your shirt off and pause when he begins kissing down your neck, to your stomach, and lower below the blanket until he stops between your legs. You fling your shirt away and make a wrecked noise as his tongue slips between your folds.

“Mhm, Felix…”

You melt as he laps at your sex and hum his name shamelessly. He groans in response, vibrating your clit and drawing another wrecked sound from you. You whisper his name and try to stifle the crescendo of needy sounds he pulls from you to no avail. Suddenly, he stops and pops up from under the blanket. Your disappointed moan trails off into a fit of giggles as you take in his disheveled appearance. His hair has been fluffed up by the blanket that now hangs loosely off his shoulders. He blinks back at you, trying to decipher your reaction.

“Are you alright?”

“Come here.”

You pull him in for a kiss and taste yourself on his tongue when it slips into your mouth. He sighs when you reach down to unbutton his pants and wrench them down so his cock springs free. He breaks the kiss to mouth messy bites over your jawline and throat. You giggle and tilt your head back to ease his access, while one of your hands slips under his shirt and traces his abdomen lazily.

“Felix, come on,” You whine when he lingers on sucking a hickey into your shoulder, “Come on, please.”

“Remember when I called you impatient, my darling?”

You huff and smile wryly as he rises to pull his shirt off and fully remove his bottoms. He kneels between your legs, his cock standing hard against his stomach. You tsk softly and pull him into your embrace, lovingly cupping his cheeks as he sinks on top of you. He beams and brushes his nose against yours shyly.

“I haven’t been fair to you, have I?”

“I’m in no rush,” He breathes, his eyes fluttering as his cock presses against your soft skin, “Y-You’re always fair to me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Mh-hmn,” He pecks another kiss on your cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“I just love you so much.”

You freeze at the confession, staring through the dim light as Felix peppers kisses down your neck. You grasp his cheeks and pull him up to face you, he stares back with a surprised expression.

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course,” His brows furrow, “Of course I do.”

“You promise?”

He breaks free from your grasp to peck a needy kiss to your lips, then murmurs, “I couldn’t lie if I wanted to.”

“Lix,” You whine, “Please, I really need you. Fuck me.”

He laughs softly as he resumes kissing over your face and hooks his arms under your thighs, then slowly eases into you. You gasp as he fills you and your eyes shut in bliss when his cock presses deeper. A whimper escapes your lips as he slowly pulls out and lazily pushes in again. You open your eyes to see him studying your reactions, his lips parted in shuddery groans with each calculated thrust.

“Felix... Felix, oh my God…”

He kisses you, messily, open-mouthed and desperate as he draws another moan from you. You let him lick into your mouth and nibble your bottom lip as your mind goes hazy.

“That good, darling?”

“Ye-es…”

He chuckles and leans back to let you breathe, still thrusting intentionally.

“My lovely girl. You look so good like this, my darling. I love it, I love you. Wanted this since the moment I met you.”

“Mh-hm?”

You let your head fall back as his pace quickens. Somehow your hands have managed to find his arms where they support your thighs and you grip his biceps tightly. He makes a pleased sound and presses closer, pushing your legs up to thrust deeper inside you. You whimper as the tension builds and you hear your own wetness dripping around his cock.

“Oh, love, my love,” He sighs against your chest as he rests his forehead in the crook of your neck.

You make a giddy sound when you feel his hips stutter.

“So good, Felix. I love you.”

He nods and nuzzles closer.

“J-Just about… there. Oh, darling, please.”

You giggle when his movements pause again.

“That’s- ah- perfect, Lix. You gonna come? Come on. I want you to, want you to come i-inside.”

He nods and continues with as many shaky thrusts as he can manage. He pushes in and pants into your neck as he finishes. You whimper at the sensation and squirm for some stimulation as he presses you into the bed. He drops one of your legs and reaches his hand between you to play with your clit. You whimper and look at him as he chases after your lulling high. His cock is still nestled between your folds when you reach your orgasm, and he groans when you clench around him. He gazes into your eyes lovingly as he rubs you through each wave of pleasure, until you begin to whimper from the overstimulation.

“Felix…”

His hand slowly draws back and he gives you a deep kiss as he pulls out.

“Mhm, sorry. You were so lovely, darling. I didn’t want to stop.”

Your legs quake as you let them fall, while Felix kisses your forehead.

“Oh, Felix.”

He laughs and presses his forehead to yours with a cheeky grin.

“My, you really are sensitive. What a shame you haven’t been touched, you needed it.”

“Hah, you- mhm…”

He lets you recover from your orgasm with long, doting kisses to your lips and cheeks. You sink into the bed with a blissed out smile as his hands coast over your stomach and thighs.

“Still good, darling?”

“With you? Always.”

He chuckles.

“Always? That’s what I like to hear.”

“Don’t get too cocky.”

“Why not? Telling me you’re not satisfied? Please, feel free to speak your mind.”

“You didn’t last very long,” You tease.

“Neither did you.”

Felix winks and pecks your forehead before settling down next to you. You roll into his arms as he pulls your thigh over his hip and fixes the blanket over you both. You rest your hand on his chest where his heart is still pattering and feel your own swell with affection.

“Next time,” You decide.

“Hm?”

“Next time we’ll take it slower.”

“So, there will be a next time?”

You giggle.

“Of course,” You gaze up at him dreamily, “You’re not done with me already, are you?”

It is supposed to be a joke, but you cannot help but worry.

“Darling,” He whispers, but it sounds like the air has been punched out of him as he gazes back at you, “I will never be done with you.”

You shiver as his hand rests over yours and he kisses the bridge of your nose.

“Oh.”

“I promise, I meant it. Since the moment I met you, I knew we belonged together. And I was right.”

Your eyes tear up a bit and you nod quickly.

“I guess I just… I didn’t know if love meant the same thing to you that it does for me…”

His eyes soften and he pauses to search for the proper response.

“Maybe not, but I know with all of my being that I love you more than I can bear. Even harder when you love me back.”

“Felix.”

“Because it hurts me so much to be away from you, and I want nothing more than to spend everyday with you like I am right now, I think it’s safe to say I want to be yours.”

You nod and sniffle.

“I want to be yours, too.”

“Always?”

“Always. I promise.”

He smiles.

“You know the fae aren’t ones to go back on our promises.”

“I know. I’m not either.”

His thumb glides over the back of your hand in soothing strokes as you finally drift to sleep.

When you wake the next morning you are alone, and for a moment your heart aches. You sit up slowly in the early light and sigh as you listen to the howling of winter winds and firewood crackling in the living room. Your brow furrows slightly and you move to get out of bed, then you pause when you realize you are dressed in your pajamas. You are feeling the soft linen and questioning when you were dressed last night, when your bedroom door opens.

Felix eyes you with shock when he sees you are awake and hurriedly comes to your side.

“Oh, darling. Did I wake you?”

You watch him intently as he sits beside you and pulls the blanket up to your chest.

“It’s still quite cold, love. Go on, you can go back to sleep. The fire is just building up now.”

“Felix.”

“Hm?”

He is rubbing your arm gently, spreading warmth over you like a second outside of the blanket will leave you frozen.

“You stayed.”

He pauses then looks at you with some relief.

“Oh… I did.”

“You… didn’t have to.”

You let him crawl in beside you and tuck the blanket around you both. He rests his head on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair.

“I think we’ve been over this, yeah? You don’t like it when I leave.”

“I know, but you usually go when I fall asleep.”

“Yes,” He leans up to look at you, “That doesn’t mean I have to leave when you fall asleep, does it?”

“No.”

“Then I’m going to stay.”

He smiles and rests his head on your chest again, snuggling in with a content hum. Your fingers play with the hairs at the base of his neck as you stare at the ceiling.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

“How long will you stay?”

He hums.

“As long as I can. But don’t worry, my love, I’ll come back.”

You smile and let your eyes fall shut as you fall asleep in his embrace.

“Always?”

“Always.”

“I love you, Felix.”

“I love you, my darling. So very much.”

[xiaosorbet]

unreachable (kaveh x reader)

he's with you day by day, but as each one passes, you feel him growing distant. unreachable. you're not quite sure what changed.

content: angst, established relationship, gender neutral reader

warnings: might be ooc ?? also drinking (it's kaveh)

word count: 3.9k

author's note: HI TUMBLR this is my very first post here!!! hello!!!! also my first time writing in a hot minute so apologies if it's rusty. enjoy :)

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. the window is open, letting in a cool breeze. the space next to you on the bed is empty. the bedroom door is closed, though from the other side you can hear the sound of sizzling oil on a pan. kaveh cooks breakfast for you on the weekends, since his schedule doesn't allow him to on weekdays. you don't mind.

you go through the usual weekend morning routine. wash your face, slowly wake your body. the weather today isn't unpleasant; the sun hides behind the clouds, but you sense no sign of upcoming rain. kaveh greets you in the kitchen, wearing his pajamas and a smile. you give him a kiss on the cheek, and you chat about the weather while he flips strips of bacon on the stove.

it's just another sunday. unremarkable, but cozy. you spend time together over breakfast, laughing over the slightly burnt bits of bacon. he isn't used to cooking, since he rarely gets the chance, but he always tries his best. diffident apologies are never excluded from his dishes. seeing his shy smile makes you warm and appreciative.

later, you lay on the couch with him, entangled legs but separate worlds. he hunches over his laptop and a sketchbook, working on a project. the same kind he works on during the weekdays, and late into the nights. you tell him he should rest, he needs a break. he could watch a movie with you. you two could go out somewhere. you haven't gone on a proper date in a while, you tell him. it's sunday, he should be free of his work for once.

he waves you off. he's almost done. just a bit more, he claims, just like he always does. his eyes remain glued to the drafts and the blueprints. they don't catch how your lips straighten into a line, too focused on the ones on his screen.

you've been with him for almost a year. there was a time you could draw him away from his work. in the earlier days, all it took were a kiss and a soft plea, and you would have all of him on you, his hands, his gaze, his attention. nowadays you're not sure if he even hears you sometimes.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you do what you can to pass the time. you read a book as his keyboard clacks, his pencil scratches against the paper. he asks if the sounds bother you, suggests that you could read in the bedroom instead, it'd be more comfortable. they do bother you, just the slightest bit, but you shake your head and say you want to stay.

that night, you get ready for bed together. you brush your teeth together, smile at each other in the mirror. you kiss each other goodnight, and sleep with your backs to one another.

monday

kaveh's alarm wakes you. it trills in your ears, long and loud. you aren't accustomed to the sound lately. usually, you wake to your own alarm. this is the first time in a while you've heard his.

the alarm rings on and on, yet kaveh remains still, deeply asleep, lying on his back. you don't want him to wake up. you stare at his face, peaceful in his sleep, not burdened with stress or frustration from his work. those two emotions seemed to be all he would take home with him during the weekdays. something tells you this was the first good sleep he's had in a while.

all too soon, he stirs and wakes. he turns off the noise and plants a kiss to your head, apologizes for waking you, then moves around the room and around your little apartment, getting ready for work.

he leaves early. every day, he must be in his office at 8:00 a.m. to talk to clients, manage whatever building of his is being constructed at the moment, the works. he used to tell you all about it, and you would listen regardless of how much or how little you understood of his work. these days he just doesn't have the time or energy.

on the other hand, you work from home. your job is one that requires only your computer and half of your day, more or less. your own alarm goes off not long after kaveh has left. your days without him are routine and simple. you make the bed, make yourself breakfast, get to work for a bit. some days you clean the house, other days you get the groceries. it's mundane, and today is no different.

you set up your laptop and do your work on the small dining table near the kitchen. your little shared apartment doesn't have enough space for a study, so you and kaveh make do with the rooms you have.

later in the afternoon, after you've finished your work tasks, you decide to cook something for kaveh once he gets home. upon inspecting the cupboards, you discover that you have all the ingredients needed for a simple cream of mushroom soup. it's his favorite. when you finish, you let the pot sit on the stove.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you're used to the boredom. you send kaveh a text, saying you made him his favorite soup. he responds a couple hours later with a thank you.

his job is supposed to end at 5 p.m., but you count yourself lucky if he makes it home before 7. more often than not, he stays at his office overtime, sometimes because clients and contractors hold him up, though mostly because he throws himself into his work and loses track of time. you never saw the point in that, since he always ended up bringing his work home and doing it here anyway.

when he arrives home, he carries not only his suitcase but also an air of dejectedness you've come to be well acquainted with.

you try to comfort him as best you can, but as the months have gone by, your company seems to have less and less of an effect as a distraction from his woes. you sit with him on the couch and ask him what's wrong, but he brushes you off. the usual, he says. that's what he tends to reply with these days, and it's been so long since he's elaborated further that you can hardly recall what "the usual" is anymore.

you miss the way he would talk your ear off about all of his problems, the way he would pass them all onto you for you to dispel them with sweet, comforting words and gestures. you were his rock.

silence stretches between you and him. you aren't quite sure how to break it and even less sure that he wants you to.

tentatively, you tell him a little about your day. there isn't much to tell, and you feel somewhat bad telling him about your job that is less taxing than his. he seems to be listening, but he doesn't have much to say in response. only a few hums and nods. he must be exhausted.

you remember the soup you made him, and you tell him. his lips twitch up into a small smile in acknowledgement, though his ruby red eyes, weighed down by eyebags, hold only his tiredness.

when you set down two bowls of soup on the dining table, soft snores emanate from kaveh's body, now haphazardly draped across the couch. you think to wake him for dinner, but something inside you makes you stop. you don't know what it is, but there's this feeling, a voice in your head saying he'd probably just prefer to sleep there undisturbed. it's not a new occurrence.

so you eat alone. the second bowl goes into the fridge.

tuesday

this time, your own alarm is what wakes you. when you get up, you find that kaveh has already left for work. you guess he slept on the couch all night, because you didn't feel him climb into bed with you, and the sheets on his side of the bed remain unwrinkled.

you go through the usual cycle of work and boredom. nothing noteworthy happens with your work or around the house. you start pondering many things in your free time. you think about how you should probably clean the house one of these days. there's been a bit of dust on the counters, the shelves.

you think about kaveh, who must be working himself to the bone. you know he loves his job. no matter the obstacles he would have to face, all the issues and complications, he would always express to you that there isn't anything else he'd rather be doing.

nowadays… he doesn't tell you much of anything. it's like he closed off. you know he still loves his job. it's been his passion to be an architect his whole life. you don't sense that that has changed, but… something else has. his job has always been a demanding one. you're used to seeing him come home exhausted, stressed. but he confides in you about it less and less. you don't know why.

the question of why isn't a particularly new one. it's been there in the back of your mind, occasionally surfacing on days like this. you never had an answer, so you would usually push it away and pretend like there's nothing to question at all. that's what you intend to do today, just like the countless times before. you don't want to bother him with it anyway.

when he gets home, it's the same, but he seems less tired than the day before. he brought home takeout for dinner, and the two of you make small talk as you eat. you bring out the soup from yesterday too, and he thanks you for it. he apologizes that he didn't eat it yesterday. you wave him off, it's not a big deal.

the conversation doesn't get detailed or personal. any spectator that would happen upon the two of you might not realize that you've been together for over a year. the words that flow between you and him are friendly but not intimate. an unfamiliar feeling seems to tug at your heart, something that feels like sadness or confusion or dread, but you ignore it as you exchange idle chatter.

kaveh offers to do the dishes, but you stop him and do them yourself. he gives you a smile, and you see the tinge of gratitude in his tired eyes.

later, when you're about to head to bed, you bid kaveh goodnight while he hunches over a sketchbook on the couch, and you know he'll probably fall asleep there again.

before you go, you watch him from the hall; he's right there, yet somehow he feels… unreachable. your chest twinges again with that strange feeling. your lips part and you feel like you want to say something, but there's really nothing to be said.

you face kaveh's side of the bed when you lay. you feel a little cold, and the soft light peeking from beneath the door feels so far away.

wednesday

when you wake up, his side of the bed is empty and seemingly undisturbed once again. part of you thinks that maybe he just fixes and straightens out the sheets before he leaves, but you know that isn't something he'd do.

the rest of the house isn't as empty, though. as you make your morning coffee, you idly look around your place. it feels like it's been a while since you've really seen it.

most of it just screams kaveh. he decorated the place when you first moved in. you helped choose some of the furniture, but ultimately, you let him have the creative freedon to do with them as he pleased. some stray sketches are scattered on the coffee table in the living room. next to them, a couple of pencils. you pick up one of the sheets of paper and see a gorgeous landscape drawn on it. a garden with winding pathways and dreamlike flora and a romantic gazebo right at the center.

something seems to gnaw at the inside of your chest. a feeling of yearning. you're not sure why, but this drawing has made you feel like you're missing something.

you miss kaveh. the realization strikes you so overwhelmingly that your grip on the sketch tightens, your frown deepens. you miss him.

so what now?

you sift through a few more of his drawings, most of which are unfinished. as your eyes skim over his messy handwriting on each piece of paper, next to each grand building and humble house, the urge to call him, to hear his voice, to feel him with you becomes too much to bear.

where is this coming from? why are you feeling this? he was with you last night, wasn't he?

no, not really.

…but in the end, you decide to keep your feelings to yourself, and you decide not to call and disturb him while he's at work. though, to at least satiate the gnawing and pulling and dragging in your chest, you shoot him a text saying you hope his work is going smoothly. he responds a little bit later with a thank you, saying he hopes the same for you. and that's enough.

thursday

you're surprised when the first thing you see upon waking up is kaveh's back. the clock on your nightstand reads 3:08 a.m. and everything else is dark, but you can just make out his silhouette lying next to you.

the aching in your heart comes back. you will yourself to push it down and go back to sleep, but it demands to be felt. you feel it stronger than ever, the urge to reach out to him and pull his body to yours and feel him against you. nothing should be stopping you, but you hesitate nonetheless. you prop yourself onto your elbow and gaze at him for a while. even here, mere inches away, he is unreachable. you lean down and ghost your lips on his shoulder and whisper i miss you before laying back down and drifting back to sleep.

when you wake up again, the morning sun colors the bedroom, and you see that kaveh no longer occupies the space next to you. the rumpled sheets in his place tell you that you didn't just dream of his presence there last night.

the day passes by in a blur. it feels like the only thing you're fully conscious of is the dull sadness in your heart. you miss kaveh overwhelmingly. it confuses you how far away he feels even when he's right next to you. it's as if some invisible barrier has grown between you and him. you just miss being close with him.

when he gets home, you expect your heart to lighten, but it only seems to weigh down on you more. you can't help but envelop him in a soft hug when he walks through the door. you hope he can feel some of the yearning in your embrace. he returns the hug halfheartedly. he's just tired from work.

as you have dinner together in the low light of the dining room, you can't help but watch everything kaveh does. he's the same as he'd been since you met him. the way he holds his fork is the same as it was when you first went out to dinner together. all his little mannerisms, the way his body moves with everything he does, it's all so familiar to you. his whole being is chronicled in your mind. you liked to think that there wasn't anything you didn't know about him, but lately, you aren't so sure anymore.

and so it's back once more, the urge to reach out, the urge to ask him so many things and feel him with you again. the feeling that he's so distant despite being right in front of you. unconsciously, your grip on your fork tightens. you watch him some more out of the corner of your eye, unsure. his eyes focus only on his food.

your thoughts and wants whirl around you until you can no longer bear the silence between you and him.

finally, you manage to open up and ask him. why are you so distant lately? why don't you tell me things anymore?

you intended to sound stronger, gentle but still confrontational, but you felt like a little kid as you spoke. like you doubted your own words, that your questions might be unreasonable.

he doesn't give you an answer. for a long time, he stays silent. he stops eating and refuses to meet your eyes. his name leaves your lips, so soft and so small that you think he didn't hear. so you repeat it, more insistently. your mind floods with pleas that lodge in your throat. please. answer. tell me.

seemingly sensing your growing desperation, kaveh looks into your hopeful and pleading eyes, and simply says: i don't know. i'm sorry.

in his ever-familiar scarlet eyes, in that face you know like the back of your hand, you feel like you see a stranger in the windows of his soul.

that night, you toss and turn alone in your bed. the emptiness of it used to be so easily excused as kaveh simply accidentally falling asleep with his work. only now did it occur to you that he might have been doing it intentionally.

your mind feels like a storm of confusion and frustration and sadness. you wish you had the strength and reason to scream at him. instead, hot tears fall onto his pillow where you lay your head.

friday

the day feels dull and empty. you aren't entirely sure what to do. you go through the motions of a normal work day, but it's obvious that you're lost and helpless. you feel weak, being so uncertain of where kaveh stands. you're certain that he still loves you... that maybe he's just going through something within the confines of his own mind. he needs only to let you in so you can repair the rift between you two, so you can heal whatever's broken inside him.

throughout the day, you subconsciously make a vague script of things you want to say to kaveh when he arrives home.

please tell me what's wrong, kaveh.

i'm here for you, kaveh.

please come back to me, kaveh.

every sentence formed is laced with desperation. it feels like you're screaming into an empty cave, no response besides the echo of your distress.

all you want is for things to go back to how they used to be. you yearn for kaveh's eyes to shine with all the love and adoration in his heart like they used to whenever he looked at you. you miss feeling his warm gaze, his strong arms around your body, conveying every ounce of affection he couldn't express with words.

you just miss his love.

strangely, the day feels excruciatingly long, but also as if it passed in the blink of an eye. you're entrapped within the haze of your own longing.

you don't realize how late it is when kaveh gets home. you intend to greet him casually, so that you don't overwhelm him. you intend to communicate your feelings to him over dinner. though you're overflowing with things to say, you don't wish to go overboard.

but you soon forget all of that, because one look at him slightly swaying by the entrance immediately tells you that he's drunk. all your thoughts are instantly replaced by concern. you rush to his side while he holds a hand against his head. instinctually, you begin fussing over him, asking him why he drank, how much he had. you know he's not good at handling his liquor. the redness taking over his face and neck indicate that he drank a lot.

you don't remember exactly when, but there was a time he promised you he'd stop drinking to this extent. one late night, he came home drunk after work, in a state similar to his current one. you fussed and worried about him. you lectured him too. so he promised he would stop, because he didn't want to cause you more distress.

now, you ask him why he's broken his promise. maybe you were right in thinking something was wrong with his work, enough to drive him to drinking again. in your flurry of emotions, you barely give him room to breathe. you seem to briefly forget yourself as you reach up and cradle his face in your hands. gently, you plead, tell me what's wrong.

he takes your wrists and sighs before stepping away from you. your name leaves his lips in a broken whisper. he looks at you, and you see every bit of your desperation and chaos in your reflection in his eyes. his eyes, which are pained, bloodshot, defeated. he apologizes.

you step towards him. you don't want an apology. you want an explanation. he starts by saying that he cares about you. that you still mean something to him, that you'll always be someone important. it sounds like he's rambling.

everything else blurs. the only things you fully perceive in the next moments are the words that leave his mouth and the look in his eyes as he says them, resolute, mournful, regretful.

i just don't love you anymore.

saturday

they say drunk words are sober thoughts. deep down, you knew he'd say those words eventually. you've been in denial for the longest time. always trying to push away the notion that he no longer loved you. you always thought it was impossible, but part of you knew this was inevitable. it didn't matter that he was drunk. you both knew the words have been sitting on his tongue for a while now.

maybe that's why you didn't cry that night. when you went into the bedroom and lied down, yes you were sad, but there was also a sort of relief there. a burden was lifted from your shoulders and his. you no longer have to pretend. as you drifted off to sleep, you felt somewhat weightless.

it's midday now. the gravity of what happened starts to settle in. you lay on the couch, which smells like him, and your tears fall onto the cushions. kaveh is nowhere in the house. he left you with a note, saying he'll be staying at a friend's place. in the note, he promised he'd come back and you two could talk. the tiny naive part of you felt hope that he meant to work things out with you. but you know it's hopeless.

the silence of your home stabs into your ears. you cocoon yourself in memories of him, in sheets with his scent, in his drawings and once endless musings. your heart won't stop reaching for what isn't there. you still don't fully understand how someone could just fall out of love. but there's nothing else you can do about it now.

all you can do is let him go.

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. you stare at the ceiling for a very long time. no sounds of sizzling or pleasant humming make their way to where you lie. birds chirp their morning song, car engines phase past.

his world rotates without you.

[wipbigbang]

OT: An Open Letter From Mod Ragna

So I would like to take a moment to bring something up to all of you on the Discord server, and similar messages will go up on the Tumblr and Dreamwidth. So bear with me.

I have been homeless all of last round and most of this round. I only lucked into the housing I have right now because the city I now live in owns the apartment. I have arthritis, fibromyalgia and Long Covid. I live on a second floor apartment now. So, naturally, considering I am the most able bodied person in my family even with my disabilities, I am the primary caretaker of everyone: I do the cooking, I do the cleaning and as such, I have been building all the furniture we've managed to get.

Up until last night, all three of us were on mattresses on the floor. I gave up a lot of energy making three seperate beds in a non-air conditioned apartment. It was hard work. I just got my daughter's bed up this evening and I am sore. I decided I'd deal with WIPBB business in the morning and was trying to relax and escape the pain I was in.

What I got this evening was a very demanding email from a participant. Now, I will not name names and circumstances, but the tone was demanding and it immediately soured my mood to the point I am still upset nearly a half hour later. I wasn't fast enough in making a correction. Instead of sleeping, I have now updated the posting list, made the corrections that were demanded of me, and I'm about to post a link to the final drafts check-in form and then stay offline for a few days. Maybe. I'm still not sure about that last part.

We are all human. We all have a lot going on. But I've been pretty candid about what's happened with me and, for the most part, everyone is great when it takes me a few days to do something, or we need to change the schedule to accommodate a change in my home life. But I'm partially considering not running this event anymore as well. I put in a lot of time and energy doing behind the scenes work, not to mention I take on about 40 fics a round to do art for. I love this event. But right now? Any enthusiams I had for making art/fic is gone. And I don't know if/when it will come back.

So yeah. That's where it stands right now. The AO3 collection is open, and I will always make sure people get their stuff posted, but I'm going to take a break for at least a day or two, try and get my temper under control, and reevaluate if I want to spend so much time on this event next year, if I even run it next year. So I'm going to keep the claims list open a few more hours, update it when I wake up, and then I'll take a break. Until then, Mod Ragna signing off.

[ancha-aus]

Masterpost

Welcome to my new Masterpost! This time including all information on everything on my tumblr instead of just one AU! Asks are always open and I am happy to answer questions <3

Tumblrsona has been made. The icon is still being made :3 The amazing @a-whispering-echo also made a drawing of her <3

AO3 account over here

AUs and stuff.

Ancients and Champions AU - Masterpost Here The big one! My main one! Story is finished and readable over here

Careful. It is a long story with many sidestories. All in the story tab <3 All the information I got concerning that AU is over in the masterpost <3

.

Real Age Au - First prompt and start of story Here This one doesn't have a masterpost. It is a drabble series I only upload on my tumblr as it are all first drafts and not always uploaded in order.

Drabble which doesn't have a plave quite yet in when it happens in the timeline.

Summary: Nightmare gets deaged, or better said, reversed aged towards his real age. Six years old. Join him and his gang as they discover how to deal with it and learn to be a family.

My own doodle for this work over here <3

@spotaus has made amazing fanart and a sweet fic in line with the AU.

@mikimakiboo as also made some sweet fanart here and here as well as fanfics over here and here

@driftinbubbles Has also made a very cute drawing!

@rendoa-blog Made some amazing drawings! [X] , [X]

The tag is RealAgeAU <3

The drabble series is completed but I will be editing it to post on my AO3 but that is a background project haha

.

Bitty Surpise - An idea and very lose concept because I had bitty brainrot. A story in the works and I may eventually upload or draw more of. Very little aside from a doodle at the moment.

.

Ghosts & Medium AU - Technically a collab because @mikimakiboo helped abunch wiht some of the backgrounds :D - Dust is a medium who helps spirits moves on as his job. trouble appears when he meets spirit!Killer. First message in reblog train & ask & general roles of everyone. And people made some doodles, here and here! Link and Link in the same thread. Another trhread over here, here, here, and here - About Dust. - About Killer. - About Cross. - About Nightmare.

Drabble: First Encounter - Killer and Dust meet (and the part 2 of that little drabble)

Drabble: Exorcism Backfire - Cross joins the party. Very unwilling mind you.

Drabble: The Necromancing Medium - Dust and Ash's backstory - 18+ because it is heavy on trauma and heavy subjects. Please mind the warnings.

Drabble: Sleepover - Dust, Ash, Killer and Cross get to Dust's apartment to relax and regroup. Mostly to sleep.

Drabble: Research - Dust gets some work donw to make some progress. Eventually.

Drabble: Moon Ritual - Dust summons a new creature to hopefully fix the situation with Cross and Killer.

Drabble: Mansion Invasion - Dust and the gang goes to clear out an incubus and succubus infestion. What can go wrong?

Drabble: Slow Morning - Dust wakes up and gets ready to do some chores only to come across a surprise that makes his morning much better.

@mikimakiboo wrote a great story about the introduction of Horror to the group! Which i am sneakily accepted as canon so check it out!

.

DoubleNoot (name pending) - Turns out that Nightmare that the multiverse knew, was not just Nightmare. Instead it were two beings. Corrupt, the being everyone knew. and Nightmare. The same young skeleton from before he ate the apple that changed the course of the multiverse.

And now they are split? It changes their lives as well.

First Drabble here!

Idea for a possible story/series. Posts are here, here and here.

@mikimakiboo once again made an amazing drabble with the idea! and it is amazing!

.

Sans in Wonderland - A possible project idea that would be an interactive ish story with different endings. original message/concept here.

Nightmare backstory.

.

SansNautica - Sans crashlanded in subnautica and is trying to escpae the planet but gets sidetracked and distracted by a bunch of very interesting looking mers.

idea for it. [X]

info on issues for sans to encounter. [X]

The gang and mers. [X]

Crash location. [X]

Sans is a pacifist and cares about the environment. [X]

Sneak Peak for the story. [X]

Drabble for Cross meeting Sans. [X]

Drabble for the gang meeting Sans. [X]

@0p1er0 was REAL nice and made a sketch of Cuddlefish Cross adn the finished Cross <3 and good boy Stalker Dust. (X) :D

@sunnybunnybabs made some drawings of nightmare and dream! and the other levi's!<3 and the shiver of good boys :D and of Sans after he adapted <3 and the Snow Stalkers Selkies <3

@rendoa-blog made a drawing as well [X] and one of Sans [X]

.

Spirit Soul AU - A fic idea I had with info here and here An AU idea I had which is inspired by both Omori and Life is Strange

.

Little story for @somegrumpynerd and their amazing comics where Dream and Nightmare get body switched <3

.

Little drabble for @spotaus because they made their own version of RealAgeAU but wiht knights <3 Another drabble over here <3 And another one! <3 One more hihi. ANOTHER! I honestly don't know why any of you think i have any kind of selfcontrol at this point. [X] , [X]

.

That was the stuff I have actual posts about that I can share. Overall progress on other things below:

Ancients and Champions - 100% writen. 100% edited. Fully uploaded.

Mermaid prompt list 2022 - 100% writen. 95% edited. Uploads ever Sunday on my AO3

Bitty surprise (name pending) - 100% writen. 25% edited. Needs to be finished (also needs another drawing of Horror Bitty)

Family Ties - 30% writen (ish?). 20% edited. General storyline in my head, just need to actually write the thing

Real Age AU - 100% writen. 0% edit (No edit or beta we die like men with this one) No real goal and just a fun drabble series <3

Story ideas that seem fun to me/ stuff i am thinking about writing:

UT Zombie apocalyse story.

Background story on Error and Geno and their time growing up - A&C related

Story on what would happen to the multiverse if there was NO negativity, the consequences to an only positive multi-universe

another mermaid story but pairing focus dustXsans

story where all the sanses are just actors and they do a series together (no idea how i would make this work in writing gonna be real with you)

Classic Dust ship story where Dust finds the original timeline and hangs around and watches Sans (I can't find my own original post with the idea anymore. It is lost to the void.)

That is all for now folks!

Edited 22 November.

[aclosetfan]

I started this draft a long time ago based on a joke text post that goes around tumblr fandom spaces, but i can't find a link anymore. my mutuals love the greens as the secretly soft couple and i think the post fits the vibe perfectly, so here’s my spoof 😭😭

—————————

The kitchen clock read around 9 p.m., but their apartment was midnight silent. Butch sat in front of the tv, playing his video game. He kept the volume on low and muted his mic. As much as he wanted to cuss out his team, Buttercup was already asleep.

Townsville had been keeping Buttercup and her sisters busy for the last week. She was up early and in bed late, with no break in sight. He thought it was bullshit that she couldn't, at least, eat an actual dinner, but he was saving that argument for later when the dark circles under her eyes had receded slightly, and he didn't feel like such a shithead for not being able to do more to protect her.

Tonight, she had come home to him battered, bruised, and bone-tired. He had picked up her favorite take-out, and they had settled on the couch to watch a movie. They had made it about twenty minutes into the horrible B-rated horror flick when Buttercup's soft, tired snores reached his ears.

He had been only slightly disappointed. While this had been their first night together in a long time, he had been happy to see her sleeping, so he had scooped her up and placed her in bed with a kiss on the forehead.

That had been two hours ago.

He paused his game when Buttercup floated back into the living room. She wore their comforter like a cape and rubbed at her bleary eyes with a frown.

"Hey, babe," He smiled, opening his arms wide for her.

Buttercup didn't need further invitations. She plopped down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Youse warm," She spoke into his chest.

"Bad or good warm?"

"Good."

He laughed, "Are you cold?"

"Mm."

"Come’ere then." He shuffled her around into a more comfortable position so he could still play his game with her wrapped around him. "Comfortable?"

"Mhm." She nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep without you."

"Well, sleep now, I ain't goin' anywhere."

"Don't wanna," she said through a yawn, nuzzling into his chest. "Miss you."

Butch's heart skipped a beat as if they were still teenagers and he was still hiding his miserable crush on her.

He didn't say anything back. He didn't have the words, but he held her close to him, rubbing small circles into her back and peppering kisses to the crown of her head. Her breath pleasantly tickled his neck as she fell back asleep.

He enjoyed her dead weight and marveled, not for the first time, over the fact that this was his life now—safe with Buttercup. He could act like himself, here, with her, not as some demonic entity's tool.

And it was all thanks to her.

And he was such an idiot for fighting it for so long.

His heart skipped another beat, and he held her even closer.

"You deserve an award, putting up with me." He whispered, thinking she was asleep.

"You’re m’award." She whispered back.

——————————————————————

(BONUS)

The main overhead light in their bedroom flicked on as the door banged open.

"Bubbles!" Boomer jumped onto the bed. "Bubbles! I made a lil' midnight snackieee. Do you want some?"

Bubbles' eyes snapped open with the fury of a thousand suns. Boomer stood above her, obnoxiously chewing whatever unholy midnight concoction he had slaved over. The kitchen was likely a mess.

"It’s two in the morning," She squeaked, squinting against the overhead light, "and you're getting crumbs all over me!"

"Yeah! I was craving something crunchy!" Boomer beamed, but his mouth was full of food, so his stupid explanation was garbled and only pissed her off further.

She wiped spittle crumbs off her face and flopped over on her side. "No, I'm tired. Go back to playing your video games."

"Ugh!" Boomer groaned, flopping down on the bed, "It got boringgg when Butch logged off. Let's do something else!"

"Sleep."

"That's boring too," Boomer pouted, tugging her shoulder until she faced him again. "Hey, by the way, why didn’t you say I love you when you went to bed? I was like hey babe, goodnight! Love you! And you were like, night, like what’s with that, huh? You love me, right?"

Guilt pierced her heart for a second, but then she remembered it was two in the morning. "I love you," she said.

Boomer regarded her momentarily, then addressed her dryly, "Well, it doesn’t sound sincere now!"

"Boomer." She seethed. "What time is it?"

He squinted at the alarm clock, "About two!"

"And how long have I been asleep?"

"Four hours and thirteen minutes!"

"I need more than four hours and thirteen minutes! We've been over this. I'm so tired."

Boomer frowned, putting his snack to the side. "I'm doing it again, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's just that I can't sleep, and I miss you, Bubs, that's all."

This time, the guilt stayed. She knew about his nightmares, after all.

Bubbles sat up to cup his face with her hand. She kissed his cheek and said, "Oh, Boomer, it's okay, silly. I'm sorry. It's just been a long week. I'll make a midnight snack with you tomorrow."

Another bright smile broke out across his face, and he wrapped her up in a big hug before laying her back on the bed.

"Bubbie," He announced, "you deserve an award for putting up with me!"

"I really do." Bubbles smiled serenely, pulling the covers up over her head, "You’re a real dumbass sometimes. Now, go away."

[startanewdream]

(found this lying on my tumblr drafts; have no idea what month those prompts for Jily Microfics were — and frankly I'm embarrassed to even tag them, at this point)

#22 - Album and #25 - Photograph (I'm cheating, I know)

It was the first morning back; over the sound of people chatting in the Great Hall and Sirius’ barking laugh as he commented on some dirty joke with Peter, James heard Evans’ happy voice.

“That’s Firenze,” she was telling Mary. The foreign word sounded exquisite in her voice; it made wings flutter inside him, even though James had promised himself he would get over Lily Evans. “And this was in Pisa. The Leaning Tower was incredible, I cannot believe there is no magic sustaining it still.”

“Pisa?” In front of James, Remus turned to the girls. “Have you been to Italy this summer?”

Evans nodded, excited. It did seem as if she had enjoyed the summer, James thought; her skin was shining, not tanned but with freckles, and her hair had some faded strands, almost blond. If he was not over his feelings for Evans, James would say she had come back from summer vacation more gorgeous than ever; due to his new life philosophies, he thought the summer had done her good in a healthy way.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” Remus said.

Evans giggled. “To Rome, I guess. Here,” and she handed Remus the mini-album she had been showing to Mary. “Don’t mind me, but I took some nice pictures.”

James glanced at her. “Can I see it too?” He asked before he could control himself.

Remus had the album opened in front of him, so James could look at it anyway; Evans seemed to be realising the same thing — she threw him a funny look — but all she said was, “The photos don’t move.”

“And?”

Evans looked as if she wanted to say something, but she shrugged and nodded towards the album, then turned to Mary.

James leaned on the table to watch as Remus turned the pages. The photographs were nice indeed, showing old Renaissance cities, Classic buildings he had only heard of, and paintings and sculptures that did not move, but captivated his gaze all the same, entranced by the way the artist had made his art look so alive.

"These are amazing," he breathed, and he didn't think anyone had heard, until Evans sighed, approvingly. James fought back a blush, leaning down, and it didn't help that Remus had paused at a page that showed Evans in front of a large painting with a naked woman.

A red-haired naked woman.

"That's The Birth of Venus, by Botticelli," Evans explained helpfully. "Venus was—"

"The Goddess of Love," completed James, raising his eyes to meet Evans' green ones. His heart skipped a beat that had nothing to do with any foreign goddess. "Love and beauty."

"Yes." She placed a strand of her hair behind her ear; her cheeks were pink. "It was a marvelous painting."

He was about to ask her, rather abruptly, if she couldn't show more about Muggle's paintings, when Remus turned to the next page; and then Evans' face was positively red as she grabbed her album suddenly—but not before James glanced at the last photo. There was a guy sharing ice cream with Evans.

"That's all," she said, fidgeting with her hands, and ignoring how her friend Mary was giggling now. "Nice trip. You should go some time."

James forced himself to smile. "Sure."

"Should we get ice cream too?" Mary asked, not hiding her mirth.

Evans rolled her eyes. "It's called gelato." She stood up. "Let's go, we will be late for class."

They departed; Remus watched them go for a moment before turning to James.

"Are you ok?"

James blinked away the images that had formed in his mind, where, instead of that Italian guy who he had barely glanced at—but now assumed the shape and face of an unpleasant handsome guy with an annoying nice accent—he was sharing gelato with Evans in front of The Birth of Venus.

"Yes," he lied.

[audrxyweasley]

As a fun little tumblr exclusive to coincide with the third chapter of Rebuilding Bridges, my angsty post war Percy-centric fic focused on him being forced to finally go about repairing the gaps between him and the Weasley’s, here’s a draft snippet opening to the upcoming forth chapter: Charlie, which I’m hoping will be ready to post for Saturday!

An unpleasant headache rang out in Percy’s ears as he awoke on the floor of his office, not for the first time, picking dry strands of carpet from his parched tongue as he flipped himself over onto his back, shielding his eyes from the light and attempt to settle his stomach somewhat before even considering bringing himself to sit up. He felt his gag reflex stirring regardless, and he swallowed a vomit flavoured burp with a groan as he watched the ceiling spin above him.

“Morning, Mister Weasley!” Audrey said with an infuriatingly chipper tone, “seems I’m in charge today,” she continued as he forced himself to the side and pushed himself into a sitting position on weary arms, leaving his glasses on the carpet behind him as he pressed his face into his knees. Maybe there should be some shame in his assistant seeing him like this, but whenever his brain began drifting down that familiar path he was forced to reckon with the states that Audrey had found him during the war, bloody arms still seeping out onto the same well cleaned carpet from lazy attempts at who knows quite what as she’d strolled in with the same calm professionalism that he recognised from within himself as a lie.

“What on earth are you on about, Audrey?” He forced out when he was eventually certain that his stomach wouldn’t follow, although like most of these mornings, he made no attempt to move from the carpet. In the same well executed reminder, Audrey forced open the curtains, a slight twitch on her lips at the wince it elicited from Percy as he attempted to shield his eyes and overbalanced, crashing back down onto the carpet with a desperate retch that warranted little more than a tut in return.

She smoothed down her skirt as she began sending paperwork every which way with a few pointed jabs of her wand, “you’re going home, Mister Weasley, Minister’s orders,” she replied in the sort of tone that made it very clear she was simply humouring him, “bumped into him in the lift with your Father you see, not sure what you’ve done, but they both seemed rather unhappy.” She glanced down to him on the carpet with a wrinkled nose, “personally I can’t begin to see why,” she muttered sarcastically before continuing, “I’d use the floo if you can manage it without spewing on some poor bag carrier, I reckon you’ll leave behind much more than an eyebrow at the apparition point, otherwise.”

Clearly the Ministry gossip wheel had been turning against him, Percy realised with a bitter scowl. If his day managed to get worse, he thought, it would be noteworthy, perhaps worth awarding some twisted medal dedicated to making him suffer. The chances of that, however, were minimal, Percy desperately reassured himself.

Sadly, Percy had never much had anything worthy of assuring in the first place.

[writesology]

happy birthday to everyone's favorite bitch boy ace trappola <33 it's not his birthday for me yet but it is somewhere

yes i posted this on ao3 but i wrote it in tumblr drafts so i feel like i should post it here too. big thanks to @shiamiko for going insane about ace relaxing room card w me <3

After almost a year of dating, Riddle likes to think he's learned a lot about Ace. Unfortunately, one of the things he has learned is that Ace is entirely incapable of getting out of bed until ten minutes before the start of class, and if his second-year thinks he'll get any clemency for it, then he's sorely mistaken.

Right then; it's time to start his routine. "Ace. Ace, love, get up." Riddle shakes Ace's shoulder with all of his physical might (and a bit of his magical one too), but the second-year barely budges. "Come on, Ace. There's twenty minutes left before class, and you know what Professor Trein will do if you're late again."

Ace lets out a small huff, and for a moment, the redhead has hope that his boyfriend will wake up. Instead, Ace rolls over on his side and turns away; amidst the anger rising on his face, Riddle silently tells himself that he will not lose his temper. It's much too early for that.

The redhead reaches over Ace's body and grabs one of his embroidered pillows, smirking as he holds it with both hands. "You leave me with no choice, Ace. Know that you brought this upon yourself."

He brings the pillow down on Ace's side, leaving his second-year spluttering, and once more near Ace's shoulder. Ace, for his part, weakly raises an arm to defend himself, but it doesn't do anything to stop Riddle's onslaught.

"Ow ow– rosebud, Riddle, stop! I'm up, I'm up..." Ace begrudgingly sits up with a groan and opens his eyes. "Why do you always feel the need to do that..."

"If you got up the first time, I wouldn't." He brushes Ace's bangs back and presses a kiss to his second-year's forehead. "Good morning to you, Ace."

Ace sleepily returns the kiss. "G'morning. When's class start?"

"In fifteen minutes."

Riddle watches the gears turn in Ace's head, and when it finally clicks, the second-year's eyes go wide. "F-fifteen?! Already?!"

"Yes, love. If you hurry, we can still make it."

"Okay, okay!" Ace throws the blankets off and runs straight into the bathroom, changing into his uniform with a flick of his pen as he shuts the door. Riddle gathers books into his arms while water runs behind him, and before long, Ace emerges with his face still dripping wet.

"...Love, please don't tell me you just splashed your face with water again."

"Hey, you're the one who said we don't have that much time!" Ace tugs his headband off and wipes the rest of the water away before staring at Riddle with pleading eyes. "And can you please fix my hair while we walk? Gift for your favorite underclassman?"

Riddle grins, stifling a laugh at how bright orange hair sticks out every which way. "But of course. Let's be off."

----------

Ace's hair is incredibly soft, something Riddle marvels at while he runs his hand through it to tame the mess, but for all his efforts, it doesn't end up looking any better.

He pauses in the middle of the path, his other hand reaching up to try combing it out, when Ace stops walking and nearly faceplants straight into the dirt.

A quick burst of magic saves the second-year, given that both of Riddle's hands are occupied, and the redhead stares at the other in concern. "A-Ace? What happened, why did you–" A weight plops onto his shoulder, and Riddle immediately realizes what's happened.

Ace is snoring away on his shoulder, and through his thoughts of the audacity his card soldier has to fall asleep while the queen is treating him, Riddle can't help but find the sight unbearably cute.

Unfortunately, their professors wait for no one, so Riddle's forced to wake him.

He ruffles Ace's hair one last time before deeming it neat enough for one of his card soldiers, and Riddle gently nudges his boyfriend awake.

"Hm..?" Ace yawns and stretches his arms. "Riddle? We're not at class yet?"

"We would've been, if someone hadn't fallen asleep." The redhead smiles teasingly as he pokes Ace's chest. "Was my playing with your hair truly so relaxing for you?"

"Wh– did I really?!" Ace scoffs and turns away, neither of them mentioning how red his cheeks are. "I-I'm just tired, 'kay? It had nothing to do with that! Not my fault classes start this early..."

"Whatever you say, love." Riddle hums in amusement as he strides towards the main building. "By the way, I hope you know that your suit makeup is smudged."

"Hah? I don't think it was–" He's cut off by soft lips on his cheek, and as soon as Riddle pulls away, Ace pouts and flushes even redder. "...Oh. Thanks."

"My pleasure."

[clearkind]

from the vault danny fenton

when I wrote this...literally an era. like ohhh my god. tumblr is judgment free right. Anyway this is just from my sea of endless unfinished drafts. It was gonna b about senior yr danny or something like that, ghost/human forms merging, I don't know. I have more scenes for this particular unfinished fic but it's only scene 1 here.

gdoc name is "unstable"

Danny Fenton slammed awake, his blood pumping, the room bathed in an eerie green light which pulsated a little with his heartbeat; he shut his eyes hard, and it mellowed out into inky darkness with just a little starlight. He felt slightly sick, and bent forward and put his head in his hands, and felt sweat on his brow. When he finally really opened his eyes, he saw that same green light reflecting dimly off his hands.

“Oh, god,” he said, sitting up. 

He rolled over off his bed, kicking off the covers still clutching at his ankles as he picked himself up, and crossed the hallway outside his room to the bathroom. He opened the bathroom door gently and was immediately greeted—without even needing to flip on the lights—with the sight of his eyes in the mirror glowing a strong and ghostly green, mapping out vague impressions of the rest of the room. The wave of sickness came again, and he braced himself with both hands on the countertop. Danny looked closer into the mirror: his goddamn glowing irises were soaking over his pupils, spreading across the white of his eyes—the whole of both eyes on their way to getting suffused by the stuff—and Danny shut his eyes again like that’d help. All it did was bring back the wave of nausea. Danny found himself with his head practically in the sink, chunks of luminous green phlegm forcing its way out of his throat and down the drain. He ran the tap water, suddenly finding that he couldn’t care less if Jazz or his parents heard.

When it didn’t feel like he was on the verge of throwing up again, he splashed water into his face and gurgled it around his mouth. When he spat the water out, it, too, glowed.

Danny sighed, hard. “This is disgusting,” he muttered to himself. He looked back up into the mirror, that glow in his eyes settling down. “This is....”

He shut off the tap water and padded downstairs for more water, filtered this time. He drank about three whole glasses from the Brita pitcher, and then suddenly the sun was rising, and the sky turned red, and the day was blazing. He groaned. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all.

“Oh? Who’s down here?”—a voice. Just his mom.

Danny decided to fill up his glass again. “Just me, Mom,” Danny called. 

She poked her head out from behind the entryway wall. “Danny?” she asked. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Uh…I had to do my…morning run?” Danny said, his voice going upwards at the end. “Yeah. It—I definitely do that. Definitely a thing I do.”

His mom frowned. “Really?”

“…yup.”

His mom frowned further, but it was more just confused this time. “Well, alright, Danny,” she said. “I’m headed down to the lab. Breakfast is in the fridge.” She glanced at the fridge: it was stuffed so full it didn’t shut properly, a bunch of anti-ghost experimental bull probably inside. “I think.”

“Okay, Mom,” Danny said. He watched as she descended into the basement. He threw back the rest of his water like it was a shot, then turned the glass upside down and watched the leftovers run into the kitchen sink.