#“and my energies still very low despite my long rest

[sea-slumber]

(@askmythicalparty) Mew @ DNA:

The Mew tilts its head ever so slightly, its fur a little wavy as it floats in the water next to the bubble, they gently tap the bubble's surface, speaking in a calm tone.

"Are you... Trapped, little one? Do you need help? Or are in this bubble by choice?"

@gonebackhome

[rafeandonlyrafe]

reckless

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, male receiving oral, aged up!rafe (28), age gap (reader is 20), reader kinda dumb and stupid tbh, breaking and entering but actually technically she didnt break anything so just entering, urban exploring

“stay away from that house.” your friend warns, following your eyesight to get light shining from only one window, the rest of the house covered in shadow.

“why?” you question, curiosity growing.

“some asshole lives there. i guess he got real rich when he was young and now he spends all his time inside hiding. the whole island hates him but nothing he did was bad enough to land him in prison…” your friend gives you a serious look. “or at least nothing they can prove.”

you're new to the outer banks, but she already knows your personality. you're defiant and confident, afraid of nothing.

it's why despite her warnings the next night you're scaling up the fence and hopping over to the other side. you note the well taken care of yard, whoever this guy is must still employ a lawn crew.

you keep your footsteps light but unhurried as you walk around the exterior of the enormous house, still just the one window with a light on, like no one else has been in any other part of the home for a long time.

you figure a house like this might have security, but you live only a block away and would certainly get to your house before any cops would show up.

you peer in a few windows, but it's too dark inside to really make out anything. you make your way into the backyard, looking down the long dock to see a yacht. you consider exploring that first before shaking your head and focusing back in on the house.

in your old city, you had a habit of breaking into places. not to steal or damage anything, just for the thrill of getting in and looking around, knowing you're not supposed to be there.

you peer in through the glass doors. it's not that late, only 11pm, but you figure the old man who lives here must already be upstairs and hopefully asleep as you grip the handle.

you wait to hear an alarm from just your touch, but when the house remains silent, you attempt to turn the handle, surprised and happy that it's completely unlocked as you slide it open.

you step into the living room, looking around at the intricate and clearly expensive decorations. your friend was definitely right about this guy being rich, but of course he is if he lives in a neighborhood like this.

“damn.” you mutter to yourself, stepping closer to a fancy vase sat on a table. you purposely leave the glass door open in case you need to make a quick escape out.

your eyes take in every piece of art hung on the wall and gold detailed lamps as you head further into the house, peeking into rooms as you quickly map out the layout. you note the stairs in the center hallway leading up, able to tell there's one light on and deciding quickly to avoid it.

you make like the rush of breaking into places, but you certainly don't like getting caught as you tiptoe into the kitchen next. out of pure curiosity, you open a couple cabinets to find them well stocked.

you focus in on the fridge next. you don't intend to steal but maybe this guy has a couple bottles of beer that won't be missed.

you frown when you realize it's mostly healthy food and energy drinks as you close the fridge, practically jumping out of your skin when you realize there's a tall man with his arms crossed, leaning against the cabinet.

“what are you doing here?” you yell, backing up and putting the island between you and him.

“bold of you to ask me that considering you're the one breaking into my house.” the man's voice is easy going and gentle despite the circumstances.

“your house?” you look the guy up and down. “i thought the guy who lived here was old.”

he moves to the island, placing himself directly in the middle so you can't bolt away, a movement you're very aware of.

“and what made you think that?” he questions. it's hard to tell in the low light, only the faint glow of buttons on the fridge and a bit of moonlight creeping in, but he looks young. your guess is late 20s or early 30s, not like the senior citizen you were picturing.

“my friend told me some asshole-” you cringe at the bad choice of words but continue on. “lives here who got rich when he was young.”

“hm, yeah that does sound like me.” the guy hums. “so what, you were gonna steal from me?”

“no.” you quickly shake your head. “i don't steal, i have no need. i just… like urban exploring.” you decide on saying.

“mmm, isn't that usually exploring abandoned places?” he questions, somehow still carrying on the conversation so naturally, like you're an invited guest rather than a trespasser.

“i thought this place was basically abandoned. like i said, thought you were old.” you shrug.

“well, im only 28, so if you consider that old.” he crosses his arms, muscles bulging.

“im 20.” you say, swallowing thickly. 

you can see the gleam in the man's teeth as he smiles. “interesting… come with me.”

his command is so effortless, you find your feet moving before your mind catches up, following him deeper into the house and up the stairs.

“what are you going to do with me?” you ask, worrying he's going to call the cops. your parents would be pissed if only a week after they move you out of the big city you get arrested again.

“did your friend happen to tell you why i stay in this house?” he hums, opening a door and beckoning you in. you quickly realize this is the bedroom with the lights always on.

“um, just that you did something and no one likes you.”

“that's exactly right, even though i did nothing wrong. i only ever wanted to protect my family.” you see anger briefly take over his features as he relieves whatever memory that made him so hated. “but still, it's hard being lonely.”

he takes a couple steps forward, swinging the door shut behind him to keep the two of you in there, alone. “it's why id like your company…”

“y/n.” you mumble your name. you don't bother to give a fake name.

“y/n.” the name rolls seamlessly off his tongue, like a purr. “im rafe.”

“what do you mean by company, rafe?” now that you're in the light and can get a good look at him, you're hoping it's what you're thinking.

“isn't it obvious?” he quirks his head to the side. “i want you to sleep with me.”

“okay.” you whisper. you're certainly not inexperienced or against sleeping with random guys, even if your friend did warn you about him. you've already gone two whole weeks without getting anything, and you're starting to feel a little high strung.

“perfect.” rafe crosses past you, placing himself on the edge of the. neatly made bed. “undress.”

his command is once again so simple and effective that your hands begin moving instantly, pulling off your tank top to reveal your bright pink bra before sliding your shorts down next to show off the matching underwear.

you turn your back towards rafe and look over your shoulder as you slide your panties down, revealing your bare ass and pussy before kicking off your sandals. 

you walk over to rafe slowly, a smile on your face as you undo the last piece of clothing covering you and let your bra drop to the floor.

“fuck, you're sexy.” rafe leans forward and grabs you, hands gripping your ass, squeezing the plump flesh there. he doesn't bother to wait for you to recover as he sits you onto his lap, cunt being pressed into his thigh as his mouth devours yours.

you can feel his need in the kiss, how starved he is from touch as you begin to kiss back, hands rubbing all over his front.

you only briefly stop the kiss to yank his shirt off. you're not surprised by his muscles, you could tell how perfectly built he was even in the dark kitchen.

rafe begins to slide your pussy against his pants, wetting his thigh as your clit drags against the material.

“fuck, you're already so wet.” rafe moans into your mouth. you don't pause to tell him that you always get a little bit wet in excitement when breaking into a new place.

“let me blow you.” you slide off, already missing the feeling on your pussy as you pull at rafes pants. he lifts his hips to help you and you waste no time, pulling his underwear down as well.

rafes cock pops up, hard and ready for attention. you push his thighs open with your hands so you can nestle between his legs, smiling as you watch a bead of precum from before licking it clean.

“god.” rafe groans, a hand fisting in your hair, tangling his fingers into the strands. “it's been so long since someone else has touched me.”

you feel bad for rafe in that moment, but it's quickly forgotten in favor of wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and giving it an intense suck, wanting to show him a truly good time.

you begin to bob your head, slowly taking more and more of his length into your mouth. he's not the biggest you've ever gotten with, but his girth certainly makes up for it as you get used to him pushing at the walls of your throat.

you'll certainly need more attention to your pussy to be able to take him as you reach down and rub your fingers against your clit, wanting to jump on his cock the second you're done blowing him.

“how are you only 20?” rafe asks, talking mostly to himself considering your mouth is occupied. “you suck dick so well.”

you don't want to comment that you've had lots of experience, but you have a feeling he won't judge you for it. so many guys sleep around yet want every girl to be a virgin, and that's certainly something you don't subscribe to.

with a final push, you're able to take rafe all the way down as you nuzzle your nose into his skin, gagging slightly but able to hold for a decently long time before you need to pull off to take a deep breath.

“come up here, baby.” rafe says, tugging your hand that isn't still playing with your pussy. “want to fuck you.”

you wipe your mouth before standing up, glad you weren't on your knees for long as you move onto the bed.

“fuck me good, daddy.” you purr out, staying on your hands and knees and swaying your ass to entice rafe as he moves behind you.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe rubs his cock through your folds, not bothering to offer to put on a condom when you so clearly don't care.

rafe teases you, pressing slightly against your entrance before going back to rubbing against you until you're frustrated and aching. you're about to open your mouth to complain, to tell him to hurry it up, when his cock plunges inside of you in one quick motion that has you screaming out.

“oh, fuck!” you squeal as rafe instantly begins pounding into you.

rafe smiles as he looks towards the window, slightly cracked. he hopes the neighbors hear your screams and moans of pleasure and learn that he's not just willing to stay inside for the rest of his life. no, rafe is crafting his revenge against the town and when the time comes, they will all regret the way they treated him.

rafe looks down at you as he thrusts into you, your head hung forward and curls bouncing with every movement as he punishes your cunt.

“shit.” rafe groans, pulling out to quickly flip you onto your back.

his mouth meets yours just as his cock reenters you, kissing you wildly while he thrusts without abandon, letting himself loose on you.

rafe can feel himself swelling inside of you and tries his best to hold back from cumming, fingers reaching to your clit to focus on your pleasure before his own, wanting to extend this as long as possible.

“god, you feel so good.” you moan out, jaw slackened even as rafe continue to kiss around your mouth, eyes glossed over in pure pleasure.

“yeah?” rafe smiles. “you gonna cum for me?”

“mhm. keep- keep rubbing.” you tilt your head back as he swipes over your clit, back and forth, building you up while his cock fills out your insides.

“come on, baby.” rafe moans out, kissing you again, unable to stop even though he wants to hear your moans. his hips move faster and faster until he can't hold back anymore, pulling out and releasing all over your stomach in long ropes.

you squeal out as he pinches your clit, triggering your own orgasm as your entire body shakes, back arching off the bed.

“fuck!” you shout. “rafe!”

you both flop against the mattress, breathing heavily as you recover, pussy dripping wet onto his blankets.

“thanks for the company.” rafe smiles, causing you to laugh.

“yeah, always happy to stick around.” you giggle, leaning into his side. there's certainly no shame cuddling up to him after what you just did.

“would you… would you come back tomorrow?” rafe asks, pushing a strand of hair off where it was sticking to your face.

“first week in a new town and i already found myself a fuck buddy? hell yeah ill come back tomorrow.” you kiss rafe quickly before standing up off his bed, putting your tanktop and shorts back on but leaving your wet panties and bright bra on the floor.

“but have pizza, im a classy girl after all, i only let you fuck me once before buying me dinner.” you walk out of the bedroom to rafes deep chuckle.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

Gojo absolutely loves the look of his pregnant wife wobbling around the home. He loves it a lot more than he thought he would. Gojo takes so many pictures of you. From the day of the big news, all the way to today.

"Satoru sto-Op!" You squeaked and giggled as you spoke. "I am allowed to dote on my pregnant wife, thank you very much." His low voice spoke very smugly into your ear. Despite your outward complaints, you still looked to the phone sitting on the kitchen counter and smiled. You blinked when the flash went off, and you rubbed your eyes.

"You take too many pictures of me.." You grumble. "Especially when I look like shit." You pouted and rested your hand on your swollen stomach. Gojo gasped and put a hand to his chest. "Shit? You're the most gorgeous woman I have ever met," He leans now and cups your jaw in his hands. "Especially in the mornings." He whispered softly before kissing you. You smiled into the kiss and felt your shoulders relax.

"Mm..if I wasn't already pregnant, I would drag you to bed until I am.." You mumbled happily against his lips. Gojo snickers and rolls his ocean eyes. "Keep talking like that, and I will drag you back to bed, despite already being pregnant." He smirked with lidded eyes. "Even if I'm 5 months pregnant?" You whispered. "Especially when you're 5 months pregnant." He pulled you into a passionate kiss after the words left his lips.

You both didn't leave the bed again until 6 pm.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

Gojo hurriedly washed his hands and ignored grabbing paper towels as he left, deciding to wipe his wet hands off on his pants instead. He was in too much of a rush to care anyway. His pregnant wife was all by her lonesome in the grocery store as he dealt with his bladder problem. He hated to leave you alone. He hated leaving you alone around other people even more.

Gojo sensed your cursed energy in the nearest aisle and quickly returned by your side. He smiled when he spotted you looking at the baby shoes that were huddled in a small pile on the corner of the shelf. Gojos eyes glanced to the clearance sign above the shelf and playfully rolled his eyes. "Didn't I say I wanted our baby girl to have the best quality clothes? Why are we in the clearance section?" He playfully scolded as he leaned his shoulder against the shelf with the shoes.

"Well, I remember saying that it doesn't have to be expensive, as long as it looks adorable on our baby boy." You retorted with a sly smile. Gojo huffed and shook his head. "Our baby girl has the best, strongest, and wealthiest father in all of Japan. I think she deserves to be spoiled." He crossed his arms, making you glance at the faint sight of his veins popping out. Amusement laced his eyes behind the dark shades adorning his handsome face.

"And I think our baby boy will care nothing about being spoiled, as long as it's comfortable." You shot back and quickly looked back down to the pair of shoes in your hand. Gojo felt his heart leap when you placed the boy shoes in the shopping cart before reaching back onto the shelf and grabbing a feminine pair of shoes as well. Gojo pushed himself from the shelf and walked behind you to wrap his arms around your growing belly.

"You are going to be an amazing mother." He whispered softly into your ear. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully. "You think so?" You placed your hands onto his. "I really do."

-----------------------------------------------------♤

It didn't take long for Gojo to realize you weren't in bed with him any longer. He was normally hyper aware when you would leave the warmth of his arms at night, but he had been even more of a light sleeper after you hit your 7 month mark.

Gojo didn't want to think of what he would do if something had happened to you.

He threw the covers off of himself before leaving the inviting warmth of the sheets. He quickly makes his way to the kitchen, only to find you quietly sitting at the marble island in the center of the room. You were minding your business as you nibbled away at your odd snack, a soft tune playing from the radio nearby. Gojo always insisted on buying speakers. That way, he could blast music from the TV, but you denied him every time. You always said that the radio was much better.

Gojo sighed and quietly walked up to you, his eyes grazing over your plump form. He couldn't help but smirk. You just looked so lovely as you sat there, munching away on your food, his shirt barely covering your body. Gojo was head over heels in love with you, that was obvious.

"Sneaking away from me just to get you a snack? How rude." Gojo softly said as he pouted. You jumped as his arms snaked around your body. You swatted at his muscular arms and shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Dont sneak up on a pregnant lady! You nearly made me drop my pickles.." You mumbled. Despite your annoyance, your body still leaned back to relax against his warm chest.

Gojo glanced at the food in your hands and resisted the urge to shiver. Pickles and marshmallows. "Mm, I wouldn't want to have to throw that snack away.." You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm and plopped the pickle and mini marshmallow in your mouth. "Shuddup."

-----------------------------------------------------♤

"You're doing so good, baby, just a few more pushes." Gojo encouraged you with soft spoken words and swift fingers caressing your hair. You wanted to yell at him to just shut up, but the pain you were feeling inhibited anything other than pained sounds.

Gojo hated seeing you in so much pain. Especially when he couldn't do anything to quell it. "Just one more push." The doctor said. If it weren't for the situation, Gojo knew better than anyone how embarrassed you would be right now. He leaned down closer to your ear. "One more push, sweetheart, and then we can meet our beautiful baby." He whispered softly. You gripped his hand tighter, thankful that his infinity was lowered, his touch grounded you. It kept you sane on a normal day, and you needed him more than ever right now.

"I can't.. I can't!" Your voice was hoarse and weak as you sobbed aloud. Gojo shook his head and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your skin as he spoke. "Yes, you can. I know you can. You're strong, the strongest woman I have ever met, I know you can do this." His words replayed like a symphony. You can do this. You are strong. You can do this. For your baby.

One final push, followed by a shout of pain, led to the cries of your baby echoing in the room. Gojo smiled and gulped down his nerves as he watched the nurses take away his baby to be cleaned.

You weren't in the same condition.

Your ears rang as your head pounded. You know your baby was finally delivered, so why couldn't you hear them? Your glazed eyes panicked to search the room for your child. "Sa-satoru?" Your voice weakly called out. His ocean blue eyes cast down to your face to see the concern and tears. His hand moved from your hair to your face as he wiped away your tears and tilted your gaze to meet his.

"I can't hear them crying. Are they okay?" You hiccuped. Gojos eyebrows furrowed slightly, yet he kept a warm smile on his face. "They are fine, don't worry." He reassured and kissed your sweaty forehead. His eyes glanced to the doctor, only to see a reassuring smile sent back his way. "It's normal for the mother to be disoriented after giving birth. It's a lot of strain on her body." The doctor said quietly.

Gojo sighed and briefly closed his eyes as his lips lingered against your forhead. His attention was directed to the nurse as she walked back with a small bundle in her arms. "Mrs. Gojo," the nurse called softly. Your eyes fell to her, then the bundle of life in her arms. A wobbly smile formed on your lips as you weakly reached out your arms for your baby. The moment the baby was rested against your chest, tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall.

Gojo couldn't help but tear up.

"It's a boy." The nurse spoke up. You tearfully giggled and gently ran your finger over your baby's cheek. "My baby boy.." You mumbled, a soft kiss landing on his head.

After a few moments of skin to skin contact and appreciation, you looked to Gojo. He didn't need you to say a word. He eagerly held his arms out for you to gently place his baby boy in his warm hold. On instinct, the man handled his son with nothing but gentle touch. You just knew he was going to be an amazing father. "God, look at you.. beautiful, just like your mama.." He cooed. You rested your hand on his arm. "Handsome, just like his daddy." You whispered with droopy eyes. He shakily sighed.

This is his family.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

"Thank you.. Thank you so much." Gojo mumbled into your ear. Your mind, despite being fogged, was able to register his words. "F-for what?" You gasped, your nails drawing blood from his pale skin. "For giving me a family." His words reverberated in your spine, causing your ears to tingle and your eyes to close in pleasure.

"I want to be selfish.." He spoke again. His movement picked up speed, quickly sucking the words from your throat. "I want one more. Give me one more -please baby, just one more.." But Gojo has always been a greedy man. One was never enough, and you knew this all too well.. "Please~" He begged, almost pathetically. You moaned aloud and grasped his face in your hands, pulling his lips to your own from where they once were on your neck.

"Give me it, Satoru.. give it to me."

[undiscovered-horizon]

Put it on me - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

SUMMARY: A shared stash of moonshine leads to you pouring your heart out to Zoro. Despite his rather cold exterior, he takes your words seriously and asks you to put some of your burden on him if it ever gets too heavy.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.8k

Brought to you by my obsession with this painfully relatable song:

“Save some for me.”

Zoro’s voice wakes you up from the trance. You’ve been mindlessly drinking and reminiscing about the fight for what had to be at least two hours now. Enough time to slur your words and muddy your thoughts but the latter, as welcome as it would be, doesn’t seem to come. Flashes of scenes and echoes of voices still haunt you.

The swordsman nudges the axe you used to crack open the barrel. Quite crude but it works as it should - both a plug and a tap, depending on the blade's position. A spicy, dry stench fills the air as Zoro pours himself some of the dark-coloured moonshine.

He takes a large swing of the mysterious alcohol and winces. Very unlike him. A troubled cough escapes his chest.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The nightmare of hangovers yet to pass, I like to call it.” Used to the questionable taste of the beverage or simply numb due to your current state of light intoxication, you’re unbothered as you take another sip. The liquor burns your throat right down to your stomach. You can almost feel it wreaking havoc on your organism. Good. “We’re both alive and not blind, so definitely not methanol. Maybe it tastes like mouldy socks but it gets the job done.”

Zoro sits down on the ground next to you. His body is suspiciously close to yours, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, but you’ve grown used to it. It’s an open secret between the two of you - he’s allowing both himself and you this kind of intimacy as long as it remains unaddressed. If it did, he’d have to admit he’s not as aloof towards you as he likes to make himself look and that is not something Roronoa Zoro has the courage to confess.

“Why are you drinking alone?”

“I’m not. You’re here,” you say as you gently poke his arm.

He chuckles and shakes his head. Zoro takes another sip and winces again but not as much as before. The ‘mouldy socks’ flavour is growing on him. Or maybe it’s the alcohol content?

“You can’t fool me,” he says in a low, serious tone. “Something’s on your mind.”

Zoro looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze is bright, perceptive. Even if you try, you can’t lie and convince him that everything’s in order. It seems that Zoro already knows your mood is foul, just can’t quite put his finger on the why. For a man who claims to be unbothered and uncaring, he sure does spend a lot of time and energy and studying your little habits and quirks. One might even say he appears to have a particular affinity for you.

“I ate shit back in the village,” you mumble without looking at him. You almost puke bolting down the rest of the dark moonshine. “Complete failure. Embarrassing doesn’t cover even half of it.”

Stumbling over the air and your own feet, you get up and pour yourself another cup of alcohol. You can see Zoro’s troubled gaze following your movements but he doesn’t say anything or try to stop you, although he’s sure you’ve had enough of strong drinks for the night.

“You did fine,” he says awkwardly. Despite meaning his words, niceties still have a problem making it through his throat. “Aside from leaving your left flank wide open but you’d have to die and be reborn to stop doing that.”

Sitting back down next to Zoro, you lose your balance and fall on your backside. Some of the moonshine spills and soaks your shirt. You don’t care about the stain for now but you surely will in the morning when the putrid smell fills your bedroom and refuses to be washed out.

“It was everything but fine,” you scold him.

Surprised, Zoro looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Never before has he seen you so hung up about mistakes. Normally, you’d shrug and laugh and just say something along the lines of “shit happens, we’ll be better next time”. Still, no matter how much he racked his brain, he simply couldn’t think of anything in particular that could get you like that. Nothing about the day and its battles stands out to him.

“Nami getting hurt was my fault,” you admit. “Luffy and Usopp too. Shit, everything was my fault.” Out of frustration, you rub your face with your free hand.

“Nonsense,” he easily dismisses your self-blame. “You couldn’t have known about the whole human-turned-arsenal crap.” Zoro takes another swing of the mysterious moonshine. This time, he doesn’t wince or cough. Mouldy socks are beginning to taste like champagne. “I don’t think anyone could,” he adds quietly.

You hit the floor with a clenched fist.

“But I did, Zoro,” you drone your words. The image of the pirate captain is clear as day before your eyes. “That’s the thing. The moment I saw that man I knew something was wrong. He moved in a strange way and the way his clothes fit him… It was right there, in front of me. And I was blind like a drunk bat stuck in a pile of cow dung.”

“Hunch isn’t exactly the best strategy. You might as well have been wrong about him and attacked an innocent man.”

“Well, he wasn’t innocent, was he, Zoro?” The anger is rising within you. Why wouldn’t he just accept your fault? Why is he so frustratingly stubborn at putting the blame elsewhere? “I could have prevented all of this or at least given us an opportunity to prepare before Usopp got half of his bones broken with a cannonball. And all of this, Nami nearly dead, because when my moment came, I failed. I hesitated. I questioned my judgment. Like I always do.”

The wooden floor is hit yet again when you look for a way to let out your anger.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but,” Zoro makes a pause and clears his throat,” you’re being too hard on yourself.”

A silence falls between you. 

The air in the cramped storage room is stuffy, soaking with a plethora of strong smells: damp wood, smoked fish, the dark liquor you’re drinking with the swordsman, aged cheeses that Sanji seems to be a fan of, roasted coffee beans… But all of those aromas are strangely comforting to you, the smells that remind you of a gathering of adventurous underdogs that have grown to be a family.

A gathering that you’ve almost killed today with your incompetence.

“Truthfully, I wish I was like you,” you finally break the silence. Zoro gives you a questioning look. “You never fail, always prepared and ready to fight. Even when you do make mistakes, which is rare might I add, you can prevent anyone else from getting hurt because of you. I wish I had the power to always do the right things and do them well. When will a day come when I finally know how to act? What to do? I make the same stupid mistakes over and over again and nothing seems to change no matter how hard I try. Maybe I’m just broken and you lot are doomed for hanging around me.” For a moment, you look into your cup. Your reflection in the dark beverage is rippling, making your face hardly recognizable. Just like when you compare who you are to who you should be. “At least in my mind, in my fantasies, I'm the hero that saves me,” you whisper to yourself and down the rest of your drink. It’s easier to be delusional when you can’t string a coherent sentence.

The realization hits Zoro like a derailed train. Of course he’s never seen you get hung up over your mistakes - you’ve been holding it inside, beating yourself up away from everyone’s eyesight. Your otherwise happy-go-lucky exterior is a mere facade, the face of someone you’d like to be. And the more you realize it’s not your true face, the more upset you get. How long have gone holding yourself to an impossible ideal? Hating yourself for being anything but perfect and imposing?

How heavy is the real burden on your shoulders?

"I'll do it for you,” he offers quietly.

Your confused gaze meets the confident glint in his eyes. He looks sure of himself - more certain than he normally is. A smile threatens to pull up one corner of his lips.

"Do what?" you ask.

"I'll be the hero that saves you."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips and echoes throughout the small storage closet. The sound bounces off the wooden walls and comes back to you with a certain depth and delay, making you feel as though it’s the world laughing at you and the poor sod that offers to help you - you don’t hold hands with someone who easily catches on fire, burning everything around them. That’s just stupid.

“Thanks but that still makes me the world’s biggest loser who can’t put the money where their mouth is and is stuck in a perpetual cycle of doom.”

You look away, staring ahead, but Zoro’s eyes linger on you. Sure, he can fight pirates and animals and fishmen and all the strange horrors lurking in the world but how in hell is he going to fight something immaterial? How powerless he feels with three swords at his side and yet no way to fight the foul-tongued beast in the back of your head.

"Just put it on me," he presses on. "If you need help, put it on me. If you're going through Hell, put it on me.” Then, to your surprise, he firmly grabs your hand, squeezing it in a meaningful manner. “Seriously."

You try to wiggle your palm out of his hold but it proves useless - his grip is iron, although not painful. No matter how much you’re enjoying this uncharacteristic intimacy, you know better than to get used to it. Zoro deserves better than to be the victim of your ricochet.

“You’ve got enough on your head already,” you say in a stern voice. “My own bullshit is the last thing you need.”

For the first time in weeks, Roronoa Zoro smiles. It’s not a smile of amusement, of being entertained. No, it’s a smile of seeing something, or someone, he holds dear. In other words, it’s not his mind that rejoices but his very heart and soul.

“I want to worry about you,” he confesses.

Tears are prickling at your eyes and you’re doing everything you can to keep them from falling. Alas, you’re quite far from sober and self-control is not an ability within your grasp. Your face feels hot as teardrops slowly roll down your cheeks.

A bitter scoff leaves your lips. “It will be an unending horror.”

“I’m not afraid,” he reassures you casually. “And we’re in the middle of the sea. I’ve got time.”

Hesitantly, you rest your head against his chest. Zoro welcomes the gesture, letting go of your hand and putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself.

[libingan]

i just graduated yesterday!!! and ive been having back pains since the morning before the graduation. even now, im still in pain dsajkds so i thought why not make a fic abt kyle giving reader a real nice massage😉😉😉!!! except, let’s make it male reader because why not????

um, idk how to do warnings and shit…

does this count as dubcon??? idk, theres a part where reader tries to stop him, but its very brief??? so im not sure????

just to be safe, ill tag it as dubcon bc i literally do not know SHDJWJSJW pls tell me if it is or isnt!!!

after a long, grueling day, you return to your barracks, each step sending a sharp twinge of pain through your lower back. a low grumble escapes you, cursing about how the weight of your gear feels like it’s compressing your spine and you can barely find the energy to unbuckle the heavy straps.

once you finally enter your room, you quickly drop the gear onto the floor, a loud sigh of relief escaping you, despite the lingering ache. you stretch lightly, trying to ease the tension in your muscles, but it only causes you to wince in pain.

you trudged towards your bed, carelessly flopping onto the soft mattress. you didn’t even bother stripping off your clothes, too eager to finally get the rest you’ve been craving the whole day.

the silence in your barracks gives you time to think about the relentless duties your line of work brings. you love it, no doubt about that, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder why you love what you do when shit like this happens.

a heavy exhale leaves your lips, and just as you were about to finally get some sleep, a knock on your door disrupts your plans.

you groan loudly into your pillow, forcing yourself off the bed as you slowly made your way to the door, face scrunched up in discomfort as you rubbed your lower back.

once you reach the door, you twist the doorknob and pull it open, revealing your superior, sergeant kyle garrick. you blink at him in surprise. what the hell is he doing here?

“sergeant,” you greet him with a nod, “what brings you here?”

kyle nods back at you, walking into your barracks without a single word. he closes the door behind him before addressing you. “how’s your back?”

you’re caught off guard, not expecting him to notice. you straighten up at his question, the persistent ache in your back making itself known, but you’re determined not to show it.

“it’s… manageable,” you reply.

kyle hums, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion at your response. “manageable, you say?” he muses, “i’ve seen that wince. go get on the bed, lay on your stomach.”

“…what?”

the man standing in front of you sighs, ushering you towards the bed. “gotta make sure i keep the team in shape, yeah?”

surprisingly, you find yourself unable to resist the way kyle smiles so charmingly at you. with a sigh, you make sit by the edge of your bed. “do i keep my shirt on or—“

“take it off.” kyle immediately replies. he clears his throat right after, still smiling at you. “you can take it off, if you want. it’d make this easier for me if you did.”

you shrug, pulling off your shirt and hanging it by a nearby chair. kyle’s gaze flicker down your body, his eyes gleaming with… something. you can’t tell what, but it’s there. “good. lie down.”

you wordlessly comply, moving to lie on your stomach, just as kyle had instructed. he shuffles to straddle your hips, perching himself on your butt.

kyle places his hands on your back, working on the tight knots with practiced skills. his fingers are firm, yet gentle, kneading your sore muscles with rhythmic motion.

after a few moments, he pauses, “where do you want my hands?” he asks.

“low… a little lower, please… near the spine—fuuuuck, just like that…” you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as kyle applies the perfect amount of pressure on that one spot.

“right here?” he moves his hands in slow, circular motions, pressing into the indicated spot.

“yesss… yes, right there,” you respond, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. as he continues to work his magical hands on the sore area, you can’t help but let out a few (a lot) of appreciative moans and groans. “feels so much better, holy shit,” you murmur, a soft hum leaving you.

kyle’s breathing hitches, and he tries to maintain his composure, but how can he? you sound so pretty, moaning from his simple touch. he can’t help it if he finds himself responding to the sound of your relief. the gentle sounds you make as he presses into the knots bring out an unwelcome reaction, stirring his arousal.

fuck, he can feel himself getting hard. kyle knows he should stop. he stills his hands, ready to pull away, but when he hears you whine out his name so softly…

he can’t help it when his hands travel lower, toying with the waistband of your jeans, wanting nothing more than to pull them off.

“…sergeant?” you call out, looking over you shoulder to catch his heated gaze. kyle gently shushes you, pressing his crotch against your clothed ass. “it’s okay. im gonna take care of you, i swear. just let me, okay?” he whispers, lifting up your hips enough to unbutton your jeans.

you try to push yourself up, but kyle tuts in disapproval, gently pushing you back down. “no. just stay down. be good for me, okay?”

“sergeant, we shouldn’t—“

“it’s kyle.” he quickly cuts you off, unzipping your jeans, slowly pulling them down. “remember that, yeah? wanna hear you moaning that name in a bit.”

his words send a rush of heat flowing through your veins, heading straight down to your cock. you mutter a few curses under your breath before lifting your hips up a little to give him more space to pull your jeans and boxers off.

“there we go…” kyle throws the clothes off the bed, his hands immediately kneading the soft flesh of your ass. “where have you been hiding this thing, man?” he teases, lightly slapping your cheek, watching it jiggle from the force.

you don’t even bother responding, only rolling your eyes at his comment. kyle chuckles at this, shaking his head in amusement.

“got nothing to say?” he gently parts your cheeks apart, licking his lips at the sight of your puckered hole. “fuckin’ hell…” he groans, feeling himself throb in his pants. “can i?”

you bury your head into your arms, nodding. you doubt kyle would take no for answer anyway.

without another word, kyle lowers his head, tongue darting out to lick a fat stripe across your hole, groaning at the taste.

you shiver from the sensation, a shaky sigh leaving you as you glance over your shoulder to see kyle, eyes shut and brows knitted together, half of his face disappearing in between your ass cheeks as the tip of his tongue breaches your hole, circling the muscle before slowly prodding inside.

“kyle, wait, this is really dirty—fuck!” you moan again, burying your face into the pillows.

“s’not dirty, love, just let me make you feel good…” kyle mutters, pulling away to spit on your hole, watching the glob of saliva roll down to your balls. “lift your hips up f’me.”

you nod, raising your hips with the help of kyle’s hands. he gently pats your bum in approval before moving closer behind you, reaching in front of you to position two fingers to your lips. “suck.”

you eagerly take his long, slender fingers into your mouth, slobbering your spit all over the digits, drool slowly dripping down his palm. you swirled your tongue around his fingers, moaning when he catches the wet muscle with ease, pressing them down before pulling his hand away, causing you to whine from the loss.

“patience, boy,” he chuckles, planting kisses down your spine before spreading your ass cheeks once more with one hand. “relax, okay?”

you nod your head, trying to ease your mind as kyle’s fingers trace around the rim of your hole. “im going to push it in. take a deep breath for me, love.” he says, and you do as you’re told.

he smiles at your obedience, finger slowly sinking into your tight hole. kyle can’t see your face, so he relies on the sounds you make to know if you’re still enjoying this.

“how’s it feel?” he asks, pausing his movements momentarily. you swallow the lump in your throat, voice coming out shaky as you reply, “…w-weird, but you can… you can keep going.”

“good boy,” he praises, resuming the movement of his finger. once he finally sunk in the entirety of his finger, kyle stills himself, waiting for some sort of negative reaction.

all kyle gets in return is a needy whine for more leaving your lips.

he grins at that, sliding in the second finger into your crack. “how does it feel?”

“i feel like i’m about to take a fucking shit,” you grit your teeth, clenching around kyle’s

fingers.

“you aren’t, don’t worry.” kyle reassures you. “im gonna move, is that okay?”

when you finally give him the green light, he lets out a low chuckle, circling his fingers inside of you.

you shudder at the feeling, your aching back completely forgotten as kyle fucks you on his fingers.

“tell me how this feels,” kyle whispers, lightly pressing the pad of his fingers against a certain one spot that has you seeing fucking stars.

“oh, fuck—“ you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head, your neglected cock leaking pre onto the sheets. “again. again. please.”

kyle smirks at that. you can’t see it, but you can already imagine the smug look on his face. “like this?” he asks, fingers curling against your prostate intently, determined to bring you over to the edge.

“yes! yes—oh my god-!” you mewl, hands going up to each side of your head to grab and twist at the pillow beneath you, knuckles turning white from your grip.

you bury your face into the pillow, muffling your moans, which have increased in volume with each curl of kyle’s fingers. the sergeant lets out a breathy laugh at the sight of you, lowering his head down to your ass before licking at the rim of your hole, his free hand moving to wrap around your cock, stroking it in time with his fingers.

“haah—fuck! fuck, kyle! please—i-i’m so—“ you try to speak.

“mmhm, just let go…” he mumbles, doubling his efforts.

you groan, muscles trembling as you try to keep your hips upright, head lolling down in between your arms. you can’t help but fuck yourself against him, biting the pillow in an attempt to stifle your moans.

“i-i’m almost—“ a broken moan leaves you, the coil in your stomach tightening, the pleasure running up your spine, and you know you can’t hold back any longer.

it’s then that kyle applies more pressure to your prostate, fisting your cock with renewed vigor. that’s all it takes for you to cum all over the sheets, your orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

your vision whitens temporarily as kyle continues curling his fingers, milking you for all your worth.

“kyle—i can’t, no,” you whimper, feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure as he crosses the side of too much.

slowly and carefully, kyle pulls his head away, along with his fingers. he gently lets go of your softening cock, watching as you slump on the bed, exhausted.

he wipes his fingers off on his pants. it’s a little gross, but kyle doesn’t care too much about it.

“you okay?” kyle asks, using his clean hand — the one that wasn’t in your ass — to rub soft circles into your back.

“never been better,” you answer, panting heavily as you move your head to the side, looking over your soldier to see kyle’s concerned, but also slightly amused expression. “my back’s still aching.”

kyle lets out a hearty laugh at that, rolling his eyes playfully. “i’ll get to that later,” he says, pressing his clothed cock between your asscheeks. “i got something aching here too, love, and you owe me one.”

yeah, your back pain didn’t get any better after that.

[mercurygguk]

head over skates · jjk ; part iii.

··· SUMMARY; jeon jungkook is the captain of the hockey team and one of the biggest fuckboys on campus. you happen to have known him for as long as you can remember but he is not who he used to be and you simply can’t stand it.

so what happens when you’re suddenly stuck doing a project with him for three weeks?

SERIES MASTERLIST · # TAG · MOOD BOARDS · PLAYLIST

PAIRING; hockey player!jungkook x f. reader

GENRE; fwb au, childhood friends to enemies to lovers au, college au

WORDCOUNT; 1,255

RATING; 18+

WARNINGS; swearing, a teeny tiny little tension but also, jk is being very sweet :(

a/n; part 3!!! i love doing this little series bc it's so easy to write when the chapters aren't so long <3 i hope all of you enjoy it too despite the fact that it's not a very long read! lmk what you think! ty for reading xx

You didn’t text Jungkook back.

No matter how tempted you were when he tried to bribe you with iced americano – your favorite (which he remembered).

Instead you took it upon yourself and started working on the project without him. Your gut is telling you that he won’t be adding much to the group work nor will he invest the time and energy in it. There’s no reason to wait around for him to actually care about the project when you know that ‘caring’ isn’t one of his primary traits. It used to be but not anymore – if he still cared, he wouldn’t have abandoned your friendship the way he did.

Besides, it’s not like you mind. 

You’ll gladly put his name on the finished product if it means you’ll be rid of him and his flirty, cocky behavior. It’ll only make the process easier and you’ll be able to do it just the way you want. If anything, Jungkook should be grateful that you’re willing to do this on your own and just add his name. Normally you wouldn’t do something like this but you just can’t stand being stuck doing group work with him for three weeks.

Jihyo is right though – it is time to move past it but you can’t. Not yet.

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 5 years – that’s sixty months of spite and aggravation that has affected you way more than you would’ve liked. Like you said, you’re not one to hold grudges against people but this particular grudge has been sitting in the back of your mind for half a decade and while you’d love to be able to just let it go, you can’t.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when your phone buzzes due to an incoming text. You reach for it to take a look, your face instantly twisting in annoyance when you realize who’s texting you.

[11:07 AM] Jeon🤬👊🏼: whatcha doing? ;)

You swipe it, removing it from your lock screen before returning your focus to your laptop and the project at hand. You let out a soft sigh and rest your chin in your palm as you play around with the font of the text – Times New Roman suddenly has a whole other meaning after Jungkook’s name was written next to yours the other day.

"It’s good to know your phone works.”

“Oh my god!”

Startled by the low and deep voice right next to your ear, you jump in your seat and turn around with widened eyes. Dark brown eyes with a mischievous glint in them are staring back at you, an amused grin on pink lips as well. You take notice of the two iced americanos in his hand before you’re scowling at your former friend turned stranger.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to do the project,” Jungkook tells you and holds up the beverages. “I brought drinks.”

“How did you know I was here?” You can’t help but ask, wondering how he managed to locate you. The library isn’t exactly one of the places on campus Jeon Jungkook frequents the most. You’d know since you spent a lot of time here. 

He shrugs, “I saw you when I walked by, went and got these,” he places the iced americanos onto the table, “and came back to join you.”

You gape at him for a moment as he pulls a chair out and takes a seat next to you, not a word of protest leaving you because you’re simply speechless once again. He actually got you iced americano and he genuinely wants to do the project. 

Something doesn’t seem right.

Jungkook glances at you with a smirk when he’s met by silence, “what? Surprised that I actually do my school work?”

You shake yourself off your speechlessness and shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “something like that.”

“I see you took a head start,” he nods to your laptop with a chuckle as he pulls his own out of his backpack. That fucking chunky, black backpack he’s had since high school. Back then you wondered what he carried around in it and every time you asked him, he would only shrug and grin. 

Teen boys and their mysterious behavior.

And just for a brief moment, you see your best friend from high school in front of you, sitting here next to you like back in the day – boyish grin and that same glint in his eye. He looks the same and it’s messing with your head because back then you were crushing hard on him. Jungkook has always dominated that casual, boyish charm and look and today is no different. He’s wearing an oversized white Nike t-shirt and black track pants from the same brand. There’s a yellow beanie on top of his head to tame his messy hair. For all you know, he could’ve gotten straight out of bed and gone to campus after throwing on the first outfit he could find – simple, casual, flattering.

The only difference is the two lip rings and the full sleeve of tattoos.

“Yeah, about that,” you start, shooting him a fake, over-friendly smile. “Don't worry about it – I’ll do the project and just add your name before handing it in.”

Jungkook blinks at you for a moment before recovering, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why? You're scared I’ll fuck it up or some shit?”

You shake your head, “no, I just prefer working alone.”

“You always do projects with Jihyo though,” he points out, squinting his eyes at you.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Or are you just saying that because I’m your partner?” He challenges.

How do you tell a guy who’s so used to getting his way and having people go out of their way to make sure he’s happy that you don’t want him as your project partner? That you’d rather do an important project that’s meant to be done in pairs by yourself and risk the possibility of getting stressed out just because you got paired up with him? 

“If I’m being honest, yes,” you tell him, not taking a moment to rethink your choice to confront him but just blurting it out instead. “I would rather work myself into the ground than do group work with you. So if you don’t mind…”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow as you do a gesture with your hands as if to shoo him away. He looks rather unbothered though, not moving an inch either. He stares at you for a second and if you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume he’s silently challenging you to try again, to tell him off and ‘shoo’ him away like a fucking bird. 

You don’t.

You stare back at him, your face not showing an ounce of anything as you patiently wait for him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

Instead the corners of his mouth curls into a faint smirk as he reaches for one of the iced americanos and slides it towards you. He then grabs the other one and turns to his laptop, silently sipping on his beverage while getting to work on the project.

You feel your blood starting to boil a little but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you pointedly snatch up the iced americano, once again turning your focus to the project at hand. You feel his eyes on you but you keep your eyes on your laptop screen, acting as if his presence isn’t affecting you or bothering you in any way.

You then give in and take a sip of the coffee.

Damn it… 

It’s a really good iced americano.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part twelve (final part)

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: mentions of grief, suggestive content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5.2k

This wasn’t the first time you caught yourself thinking how difficult it was to have two professional athletes in your life, and it also wasn’t the first time you wondered how their bodies could store so much energy.

“Princess, slow down a bit. I think your mom needs to rest again.” 

Even with the distance, you could hear the teasing cadence in Alexia’s voice, made prominent by the use of her mother tongue, and you watched as the both of them slowly came to a halt, turning their heads to look at you over their shoulders. At the extra attention, your cheeks heated with more than the exertion and, as pride urged you to save face, you pushed yourself to pedal quicker so you could lose the distance between you and them, stopping with a relieved wheeze when you finally arrived at their tail. Although amusement graced their features with a lightness, their ever-present disquietude–try as they might to hide it–shone clear in their eyes for you to see.

“Mom, are you okay?” Came Elisa’s question and, upon removing her cycling sunglasses, you found her brows furrowed.

You only managed to give her a thumbs up as your breath still eluded you, but when it returned, you added, “Yep. Just–just need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Seriously, Mom, you don’t have to push yourself too much.” Elisa placed a gentle hand on your back, rubbing circles as if she was trying to expel the malaise there.

“Ladybug, I appreciate the concern, really, and I may be no athlete but I can do this, thank you very much.”

Elisa raised her brow at you, clearly unconvinced, before she muttered deliberately loud enough for you to hear, her tone excessively dry. “Yeah? At this rate, by the time we get to the beach, the sun will be gone.”

Despite your state, a laugh bubbled from your throat when Alexia flicked Elisa’s arm who yelped dramatically, scaring a couple of birds to flight from a nearby tree, before she grinned and stuck her tongue out at Alexia. 

“Be nice,” Alexia reprimanded but the quirk at the corner of her lips betrayed the seriousness of her tone, clearly amused. 

Elisa grumbled as she rubbed her arm, “I’m not the one who’s making her laugh! If she passes out, it’s on you.” 

Ignoring Elisa’s point, Alexia reached out and rubbed your arm in a soothing manner, speaking softly, “But really, love, if you can’t go on, we’ll just Uber there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m fine.” You grunted, letting a bit of your annoyance bleed in your tone, but you appreciated the thought behind their concern nonetheless. It was just, Alexia and Elisa’s protectiveness exceeded that of Derek’s–a feat in and of itself–and no matter how much you tried to assuage their doubts, they still hovered. And the only way to stop it was to let them know you were vexed. Then you added with a huff, “You two just have such ridiculous stamina. It’s not fair.”

“Alright, as long as you say so.” Alexia said, taking your answer in stride by putting her hands up as if in surrender. But then she smirked, adding in a low tone, “And it’s well earned, my love.”

Your brows raised, both surprised and pleased with the innuendo, before you smirked back and spoke in the same tone as she did. “And so you say.”

The moment was broken when Elisa let out a mixture between a sigh and a groan. 

“No offense, but if you guys are done flirting, could we please get a move on? We’re about to lose daylight.”

At that, the three of you started again, Elisa taking the lead as Alexia fell into pace beside you. Then Alexia turned to you, mischief clear in the gleam in her eyes, and she muttered, “Remind me to tease her the next time Camilo comes over, hm?”

“I heard that!”

Much to Elisa’s delight, the three of you arrived at the beach with just enough time to spare before the sun began to set. You got off your bikes and began to lead it by your sides as the three of you began to walk the length of the shore.

Apart from a handful of people strolling about, the beach was barren today, and the lack of a crowd made the place more peaceful to you. And as buried your toes further into the pleasantly lukewarm sand, as you took in the breeze delivered home by the waves which carried a breath of freshness and a promise of another good day in the morrow, you regarded the sun, in her blazing glory, painting the skies with one last glimpse of her radiance.

Enraptured by the sight, you stopped and rested your bike against your thigh, rummaged through your bag for your camera to capture it. Once done, you turned to Alexia and Elisa who were farther along now, seemingly so immersed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed you’d lagged behind. You watched them, their figures half bathed in the titian brilliance of the setting sun which made their shadows stretch long along the shoreline, and the sight stirred emotions in your chest that you felt compelled to capture them as they were: Alexia with her arm across Elisa’s back, one hand on Elisa’s broadening shoulder, while both of their bikes rested on their outer legs. As you were looking through the viewfinder, you saw Elisa’s bike fall to its side as Elisa wrapped her arms around Alexia, alarming you at first before you saw the scene as it was. You didn’t dare approach them; the moment, you perceived, was too tender for such an intrusion so you remained where you were, capturing the scene with your camera for safekeeping. 

Shortly after, they walked back towards you in silence. Alexia’s gaze remained casted down as she tried to subtly brush her tears away with the back of her hand but when she caught your gaze, she knew you knew, but instead of asking about it, you only gave her an understanding smile–she’d tell you when she was ready. But Elisa, much as she tried, had always struggled with keeping her countenance free from emotions–a stark contrast to Alexia who, from years of practice, could school her features to faultless stoicism in a moment–and couldn’t deter the somberness from showing on her face for when she smiled at you as if to pacify you, her lips remained crooked with telltale signs of her affliction, chin trembling. The sight tugged at your heart, as it always did whenever you saw any of them this way, so you reached and cupped her cheek, brushing your thumb under her eye to try and soothe her. Elisa closed her eyes at your touch and when she opened them again, the weight in them looked lighter, and you smiled.

As the last traces of the sun sank under the horizon, you loaded your bikes on the rack attached to Elisa’s car which you parked there earlier that day, and Elsia drove up the mountain you just rode down on so she could drop you both off at Alexia’s car. Once there, Elisa helped you unload your bikes from her car and transfer it to the other car, and then it was time for goodbyes.

Alexia had to crane her neck up slightly so she could rest her chin against Elisa’s shoulder as they hugged. Alexia kissed her cheek, then patted her on the back as she said, “Drive safe, love. And don’t be late tomorrow.”

“I will and got it, Coach. I love you.” 

You stepped in next, kissing Elisa, too, on the cheek as she stooped down to wrap her arms around you. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, ladybug. I love you. Be safe.”

“See you, Mom, and I love you, too.”

With that, the glow from the taillights of Elisa’s car receded into the darkness while the both of you got into Alexia’s car, heading for home. The ride was quiet except from the music that came from the radio, the volume so low it was almost like a hum, as Alexia drove with a steady hand, her face impassive but her eyes disclosed she was anything but serene.

Still, you held your tongue.

You had chipped away at Alexia’s emotional wall over the years you’d known her, enough that she now allowed herself to be vulnerable around you without being prompted to open up, but there were still instances which required patience, moments that asked for time until she was ready to come to you. And this was one of those times.

It didn’t worry you too much, though. The both of you had agreed to never let anything go unsaid–to never let things fester–until the next morning, so you gave her space now to mull things over.

Later that night, as expected, after spending the majority of the evening in her office, she greeted you with a soft murmur of your name, taking your hand and kissing the back of it as she settled on her side of the bed, drawing your attention away from the book you were reading. 

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” You asked softly, putting your book aside on the bedside table, shifting against the pillow you were propped on so you could see her better. The angle of the light casted shadows on her face and made the lines that time etched on her face more prominent, and it made her look more inviting; her earthly beauty made more resplendent.

The question that came was spoken with the faintest of air.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

At first, the question confounded you and for a moment, you were at a loss for words to answer her. But as you continued to regard her with an even more careful eye, you found a silent vulnerability in her eyes, so heartrendingly delicate, a rare look you only saw whenever she talked about–Oh.

Oh, Alexia…

Emotions surged through you, chest tightening as it ached with your lover; as it ached for the pain and grief that will forever live with her–for the love in her that had nowhere to go, permanently in search for a beloved soul.

Gently, you cradled her face in your hands, soaking in every feature, every freckle, every blemish and every line. You carded your fingers through her hair, consoling, then you traced her brow with the pad of your thumb before you kissed her temple and lingered there, then the skin just beneath her eye, then the bridge of her nose, and then the corner of her lips.

“I see… everything that makes you,” you breathed out, voice trembling under the weight of your emotions. “Your mother’s brows and the color of her eyes… the shape of your father’s eyes, his nose, his smile. Their love lives in your skin and it’s all you, Alexia. I see you. Oh, how I see you.”

At your words, Alexia’s face broke: her lips trembled, brows furrowing, while tears streamed down her cheeks. Then she dropped her head to your shoulder, a sob leaving her throat as she clung to you and you held her just as tight.

“I miss him.” Alexia choked out, “God, I miss him so much. It’s been so long and yet it still feels like I only just lost him today.”

Oh, the familiar paroxysms of grief. Most days, you remained untouched by their shadows but the intensity by which they instill the pain of loss when they did get you, how they stretch that empty space in your heart into an abyss filled with teeth, was something else entirely. Agonizing, yes, but it was also a bittersweet repose for it served as a reminder of who loved you and who you loved. 

The moment that followed was spent in silence, apart from the soft stutter of Alexia’s breaths.

“I told Elisa that her parents would be proud of her, that I wish I could meet them and tell them all about how their daughter turned out to be this wonderful person. And you know what she said?” Alexia laughed, teary and voice hoarse. “She told me she wished she could meet Papá but at the same time, she felt like she already had. She told me I look just like him.” 

“You do. And he’d be so proud of you, you know?” You whispered as your own tears fell while you gripped her hand in yours. “And I wish I could’ve met him, too, and Elisa’s.”

Alexia lifted her head so she could look at you, murmuring softly, “And I wished I could’ve met yours, too.”

Through the night, you exchanged whispered stories of the past as you held each other, shedding tears at Alexia’s recollections, laughing at the memories. But how sad it was that loss made your shadows long, all three of you? And how beautiful it was that one’s capacity for love–though at times could stray or waver–could never truly be lost even after a deprivation from the loss of a source? But wasn’t that how lives intertwine? Through shared suffering? Through the bitter grief and the sweetest joy? And wasn’t it where lives intertwined that love bloomed? And in this world of shadows–in these long, seemingly endless nights–warmth and light were all the more precious, and love… Love was both of those things and more: it was an enduring flame, so quintessentially human, an evermore of the sublimest kind.

Love was never lost, you knew this. Life would end but love would always remain; it did long before you, and it would continue on long after you. 

But you were here, in love, loved, and alive. Could you ask for something better than this state of grace?

The answer echoed in clarity in your mind long before Alexia’s comforting warmth and the gentle beat of her heart had lulled you to sleep.

No.

Nothing could ever come close to this. 

Tomorrow came with a splendid radiance, casting everything in a golden tone likened to that of a developed photograph which made the colors vibrant and inviting; the kind that promised that the memories made today would be looked fondly back on in one’s recollections. Waking up to the sight of Alexia in your arms made today all the more brighter for she held the vision to what the world had to offer; all the beauty and warmth in this world began and ended with her.

True to her words, Elisa appeared on the porch first thing in the morning. You opened the door for her, which also revealed her hand intertwined with Camilo's, who looked on devotedly at you daughter as she stepped into Alexia’s embrace, and then yours.

The three of you had prepared most of the things yesterday before you went cycling, but there was still much to do before the hour came for the others to arrive. So, the four of you paired up and went to work. Alexia and Elisa were delegated to setting up outside, while you and Camilo set up inside.

Your attention flitted to the two of them outside as you cooked but before the end of the hour, they’d finish installing the extension roof over the open gazebo, had moved and arranged the tables and chairs, and finished spreading a light blue linen over the tables before laying a strip of folded fabric of a lighter color in the middle. As for you and Camilo, you’d about finished with the arròs negre and the fideuà when Alexia and Elisa came in.

They stepped into the kitchen to grab the plates, glasses, and utensils laid on the counter–but not before Alexia snuck in a sweet kiss on your cheek, a diversion, you thought, so she could steal a spoonful of the fideuà; Elisa, too, grabbed a bite to eat which was fed to her with gentle affection by her lover–which they then arranged on the table.

After a moment of tending to the food, you looked through the opening that gave a view outside and saw the two setting up the party games for the kids. In an act true to their professions, they’d began setting up Elisa’s old folding goal posts, the backyard expansive enough to accommodate them, even sneaking in a couple of juggles and shots after they’d inflated a handful of balls.

(When Alexia caught your eye, she rubbed the back of her neck, putting a hand up in apology–Elisa laughed but she immediately shut her mouth to a bashful smile when your eyes flitted to her–before the both of them returned to their task.)

You watched Camilo in awe as he worked on the coca bread, empanadas, and ensaimadas all at once while you started on the esqueixada. Although you’d seen more of his intricate works, it wasn’t the first time you caught yourself amazed by the skills and work ethics of the aspiring patissier. After the last batch of pastry was put in the oven, the first of your guests arrived.

To your surprise–but not really for you had held enough family gatherings to expect it–you and Alexia’s immediate families came first, more than an hour early, and Elisa was greeted and congratulated as Eli, Alba, your mom, Derek and Robert, and their two-year-old daughter, Olivia, passed the door Elisa had opened for them. 

And in typical fashion, their maternal instincts kicked in and Eli and your mom gathered around the kitchen, looking over the food, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at them as they fussed over you, not with malice, until you playfully shooed them away.

“Honestly, we can hold down the fort here. Right, Camilo?”

Camilo, bless his shy and gentle soul, flushed, darkening the olive complexion of his cheeks, as he just nodded in agreement. 

You stuck your thumb to the direction of the back field and said, “The two outside, however, might need a little help.”

At that, you heard an offended, “Hey!” 

(It was Alexia.)

But your mom, Eli, and Alba proceeded to the back, placating the pouting Alexia with a hug, and they chatted and caught up while they helped Alexia with the grill. 

About half an hour later, Mapi and Ingrid arrived with Anton–their toddler of one and a half years old–asleep in Mapi’s arms. Alexia’d welcomed them in, embracing her old teammates, which roused Anton from his sleep. When Mapi set him down, he blinked around, taking in his surroundings with his big eyes, and when they settled on Olivia, he giggled and stuck his tiny hands out, recognising a familiar, friendly face. 

Olivia and Anton played in the living under Ingrid and Derek’s supervision, the two of them chatting on the couch, while Mapi and Robert came over to check on you and Camilo. They then headed out into the back and shortly after, laughter filtered inside and when you looked through the yawning, Robert was gesturing wildly in the air, and, you believed, he’d started telling one of his intricately conceived comedies to his audience.

When Ingrid and Derek brough Anton and Olivia outside, Eli and your mom–as was the tendency of grandparents presented with children–fussed over the little ones, cooing and awwing at their slightest movement. You stopped what you were doing to take in the warm scene, so distracted were you that you didn’t feel Alexia’s presence until she’d wrapped an arm around your waist as she placed a kiss on your temple.

You sighed, leaning into her touch, but you remembered you’d been in the kitchen for the last couple of hours. So, you pushed her away gently with your shoulder, whining, “Stop, I smell like food.”

To your chagrin, Alexia turned you around with enough force to make you squeal, before she made a show of burrowing her nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in loudly, and the movement tickled a giggle from your lips.

“Alexia!” You smacked her shoulder playfully, still laughing. “Stop, seriously, I smell horrible!”

“Oh, really? I can’t really tell. You smell delicious all the same.” She muttered against your ear, a hand splayed just over the bottom of your right rib. The statement made you flush in spite of yourself, your body too in tune with her wiles and you found yourself stepping closer to her before you remembered where you were.

“Alexia, our mothers are literally right there, don’t start.” You warned her under your breath, glancing where said persons were sitting beneath the shade of the gazebo, doting over the little ones.

“Fine,” sighed Alexia, pouting, but she took the ladle from you anyway, kissing you on the cheek. “Go freshen up and I’ll look after the food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be quick so you can shower before the rest gets here.” 

You pecked her on the lips, grateful, and just when you thought she’d finally stopped with her shenanigans, a mischievous gleam glazed over her eyes and Alexia said with a suggestive half-smile.

“Or I can always join you? You know, to save water and all that.” She spoke it in a smug way, like someone who was pleased at having said the last words. And you were about to reprimand her again until you remembered something. When Alexia got like this, there was only one way to go about it: to play her game. 

So you looked at her, making sure you dropped your lids just enough–the change in your demeanor instantly noticed by the way she stilled, staring at you with wide eyes and bated breath–and you stepped into her space, trailing a finger from her chest to her collarbone before you wrapped your arms loosely around her neck, going on your tiptoes and craning your neck forward until your lips brushed her ear.

“Keep that up and you won’t get any tonight.” You whispered low. You didn’t miss the way she shivered against you and you relished it. “You do want to take me, don’t you?” 

Alexia nodded, as if on autopilot, her figure stiff.

“Okay. So, play nice until I get back, yeah?” 

Alexia croaked out an agreement and, satisfied, you pulled back, taking in Alexia’s appearance, her pupils now blown and a delicious crimson streak had painted her cheeks, lips now slightly parted. With one last peck to her lips, you fled the kitchen. 

When you passed the living room to get to the stairs, you saw Mapi and Derek sitting on the couch, and, upon seeing you, their lips curled into a knowing smirk, and Derek–the jerk–had the audacity to wag his brows at you. 

“I think you broke her.” Mapi wheezed out while Derek clapped a hand on his thigh as he laughed. Your cheeks flushed and you ducked your head as you flew up the stairs.

After immersing yourself in a much needed cold shower, you headed down to the kitchen and relieved Alexia–who was still more than a little dazed when you got back to her– from her kitchen duty with a placating kiss on the cheek so she could freshen up herself. Half an hour later saw you and Camilo, and with a little help from Derek and Alba, finished with moving most of the food to the table outside, just in time as most of your guests arrived.

One minute there were only a handful of people lounging in the backyard, the next the space was lively with music and the sound of amiable company; the chatter from friends and family. The lunch commenced and after the toast for Elisa’s recent signing under Barçelona Femeni’s First Division, Elisa stood to thank everyone for coming. And then, she turned to you and Alexia, who wrapped an arm around your waist, steady and strong.

“To my mom and Coach,” Elisa’s deliberate emphasis drew laughter from everyone, while Alexia raised her brow, lips quirking in amusement at the light jibe.

“To my mom and Mamá,” Elisa corrected herself, and she proceeded with a choked voice, eyes reddening, “I am forever grateful for what you’ve done for me. For all your love, your continued support and comfort, and for believing in me. I love you. I love you so much.” 

You clasped a hand over your own lips in fear that a sob would escape them but tears spilled down your face all the same, and you gripped Alexia’s hand on your hip as your chest filled with love. When you turned to Alexia, her lips were pressed in a thin line, chin trembling, as she tried to keep the tears at bay, her eyes, like yours, shone with pride. 

And so there you were, much later, under the shade of one of the trees in the backyard, nursing a glass of something stronger than champagne–Mojito to be exact–regarding the scene before you with a warmness that, you knew, transcended that of the sun’s.

Elisa was in jovial conversation with her friends and Ingrid–football related, you supposed, by the way Ingrid gestured in the air and the way her juniors were listening attentively; Camilo engaged in what seemed to be an interview by your mom and Eli–for recipes, most likely–while Derek and Lucía–Irene’s wife–looked on them with amused expressions as the both of them talked; Mapi and Robert partook in a game of football as goalkeepers on opposite teams: Mapi, Mateo, and Olivia against Robert, Gabriel–Irene and Lucía’s second son, Mateo’s junior of three years–and Anton; Alexia and Irene, meanwhile, stood to one side, their hands clasped behind their backs, as they stood a vigilant watch over the children, commenting on the game with a light tone, exclaiming and clapping their hands every now, true to their profession. 

The air was filled with glee, painting the atmosphere with a lightness of not only of the physical sense, but also of being that you couldn’t help but reminisce.

Alexia retired from football about two years prior but, as expected, the sport was never really done with her–or her with it. So, the Number Eleven jersey may have been put away, but Coach Alexia Putellas was very much involved with the growth of new Blaugrana bloods, involving herself with–and quite capably–developing and guiding Barça’s youth team. Although she was called to lead the Spanish Women’s National Football Team, after their years of continuous fighting for reform, Alexia rejected the offer for–in her own words–her heart belonged to Barcelona, leaving the responsibility to fall on Irene’s shoulders who had accomplished plenty in the short time she’d managed the team.

You, on the other hand, flourished in sport photography, accompanying Alexia or Elisa in most of their matches as per your contract with the club. But you were still very much part of the firm you and Derek built, larger now, involving yourself in its internal affairs and, if necessary, partaking in the journalistic side of things.

Speaking of, after Derek and Robert moved in together somewhere in your home city–even more so after Olivia was born–he gave you this Barcelona house despite your deep insistence that you’d buy it from him, but not without saying a little side remark, ‘You guys did the nasty there already. Keep it.’

You’d always wondered where home was, but now, as you took in the scene before you, and even more when you beheld the woman walking towards you, you knew, in your heart, where it was.

When she got to you, Alexia took your hand, lifted it, and she twirled you around gently, taking your glass from your other hand and placing it on a nearby surface. And as you stopped, she stepped into the space behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist as the both of you settled to a gentle sway in time with the music. 

“What are you doing back here all by yourself?” She asked beside your ear but not before she pressed a chaste kiss on the side of your head. 

“Just thinking.” You murmured, closing your eyes for a moment to better savor the feel of her body, strong and gentle.

Alexia hummed, you felt the rumble of it from her chest before you heard it right beside your ear, melodic, before she pressed  a kiss on your bare shoulder. “About what, my love?” 

“This. Us.” You lifted one of her hands, brushed your lips over her knuckles. “You.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“With you? Always.”

The both of you swayed and simply watched the scene in silence for a moment. Then a thought occurred to you but as you were about to voice it, Alexia beat you to it. 

“The kids, they grow up so fast.” Alexia said in a wistful tone.

“They do. I still can’t believe Elisa turned 18 this year.”

Alexia sighed, “Oh, to be young again.”

You snickered. “You make it sound like we’re so much older. And it’s not that bad, is it?”

“No, not really.” A pause, then, “But that’s less time left loving you both.”

The softness of her answer wasn’t lost to you and your mind went to the conversation you had just the night before and your heart ached, so full with your love for this woman. You leaned back, enough that you could feel the way her heart beat through her shirt, and you squeezed her hand. 

You turned your head so you could rest your forehead against the line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you sighed, “You know, you say and do these things that make me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Good. I’d like to keep it that way.” Alexia murmured. “And I will never stop loving you. You’re my person, always. I did tell you, didn’t I?”

The memory of white fabric, white petals thrown in a line between the pew chairs, trembling hands; the way the sun light shone on Alexia’s light brown hair and spun gold in them, her hazel eyes glassy and earnest and filled with so much love, and then, her words of promise; of always and forever.

She’d taken your right hand into the open palm of her left, a twin set of silver bands that rested on the fourth finger of each hand glinting in the late afternoon sun, as she pressed further into you, her cheek now resting against your temple. With your other hand, you cradled hers, tracing the coolness of the metal on her finger with your thumb.

Then you whispered, “I love you, Alexia. So much.”

“And I love you, my wife.”

And just like all the times you’d heard it, you shivered all the same.

“I’ll never tire of hearing that.” You admitted as you turned in the embrace, immediately wrapping your arms loosely around Alexia’s neck after, fingers gently playing with her hair as you looked into those resplendent and doting eyes. And you asked just barely above a whisper, “Can you say it again?”

She brushed a strand behind your ear, tracing the line of your brow before her hands settled on your hips, eyes now lidded with even more affection.

“Ask me who I am.” Alexia said in the same tone, leaning close that you could feel the brush of her lips over yours.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alexia,” she whispered, and then she added with a smile.

“Your wife.”

And then, you kissed her.

[caeliuluru]

warmth (in all its forms)

Summary: You are sick. Xavier takes care of you. Tags: gender-neutral MC, established relationship Xavier/MC, so fluffy sweet that YOU might get sick (with diabetes), very slight angst (if you’ve read his anecdotes)

⊹˚₊‧──────────‧─────────‧─────────‧──────────‧₊˚⊹

You've always prided yourself for being on top of things when it comes to your health. It's no surprise that being a Hunter requires a good level of fitness, with all the running around and killing Wanderers. Despite your heart condition, you were considered well enough for your line of work. You eat properly, work out, and get enough sleep (or try to, at least), and you’re quite happy with yourself!

Which is why it is surprising when you wake up with a cough, and a few sniffles. No matter, it’ll probably go away within the day. Out of consideration for the people around you, you pocket a face mask as you head to work, and ignore the slight throb at the back of your head.

The hours fly by. After finishing your paperwork, you go on patrols with another Alpha Team member whose partner caught a bad cold. You even got to say hi to Xavier at headquarters before going out. Your limbs do feel a bit heavier, and some of your shots missed, but you assure your teammate that you’re fine. Thankfully, there weren’t any high-level Wanderers lurking this time around.

Captain Jenna shakes her head when you get back. “Take a break when you get home, you’ve done well today,” she says. Stubborn as you are, though, you don’t pick up on the underlying meaning of her words.

You leaf through some reports while eating a snack, feeling stuffy. The dull pain you felt earlier has intensified to a full migraine.

“Hey! Wanna get some milk tea? Captain Jenna mentioned you looked a bit low on energy today.” Tara beams at you from above your desk. You’d drank so much water today, was it just the city heat? And your favorite drink did sound good…

”Your treat?” You playfully ask your friend, and stifle a cough.

“Of course not! We have the same paycheck, anyway, don’t we?” She pouts and flicks your forehead lightly.

The expression on her face changes to one of concern. “Wait…” She rests the back of her palm on your forehead this time. “You’re burning up! And you still went to work!”

“It was just a cold…” your eyes turn away from her awkwardly, not wanting to admit that you really just wanted to power through the day despite the symptoms.

“Just go home!”

Suddenly, Tara leans to whisper in your ear. “And I’m pretty sure Xavier will do a good job taking care of you.”

She winks, and you feel your fever rise a little bit more, flustered.

The two of you spot a familiar silver-haired hunter coming in your direction. “Well, I’ll head back now. Get some rest, okay? I’ll keep you updated on work. You can’t go fighting Wanderers when you’re sick!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine in no time,” you reassure her.

“You will, as long as you stay in bed!” It’s that tone she uses when she chides you for working overtime days in a row. You clearly love your work, sometimes to a fault.

She then turns to wave at your hunting partner and recently-made-boyfriend as she walks back to her cubicle. “Hey Xavier!”

He nods in acknowledgment, his usual aloof expression recognizable from anywhere.

If there’s one thing you did notice about him these past few months, however, it’s that it softens when he looks at you.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

You pout.

“I wanted milk tea.”

“And you look like one of the crying kitties in Kitty Cards.” He tilts his head to the side with a knowing look. “It seems that you can’t wait to get a good rest.”

“Aren’t you scheduled for patrol duty?”

“I just finished my shift, which is why I was able to come to you. Now, let’s go.”

Unable to retort, you throw the wrapper of your snack into the bin below your desk and put your face mask back on.

────────────────────────────────────────────

After returning your weapons and packing your things, you commute home with Xavier. The cold air from the air conditioning is a relief, but you still feel too warm. It’s an annoying feeling— and your upset only grows when you feel the sunshine rays on your skin as the train moves above ground. At the very least, you’re glad it wasn’t rush hour, else you’d have to deal with being squished as well.

“We can switch seats if you want. It’s less hot here.” Xavier looks at you, his hand close to yours.

“I’m fine, nothing I can’t handle.” With the heat and your head pounding, it’s tempting to rest your head on his shoulder and drift off, but you arrive at your stop before you can.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Xavier follows you to your apartment, where you both remove your boots and change into house slippers. He doesn’t say a word, only looking through your cabinets for… something.

“You’re not going to cook, are you?” you ask from the bedroom, where you’re getting changed into pajamas. Your voice comes out a bit more hoarse than you expected.

“Mmm… just checking if you still have medicines here.” As you walk to the kitchen island, you can see him place a few medicine packets on the counter.

“I can get you soup from the hotpot place. Stay here.”

“Xavier, I can handle it, really.”

He doesn’t answer, silent as he grabs a small basin to fill with cold water. “Aren’t you tired?” Your head turns toward the direction of his voice, and you follow him into the bedroom. He rummages through your closet for smaller towels, right below the area where his spare clothes are placed. You have a few pairs of clothes in his apartment as well, just in case you slept over.

You acquiesce to his efforts, and finally decide to settle down in bed, wrapping the duvet around you. The soft pillow and the arcade plushies around you add to the cozy feeling, and you try to relax as you watch your boyfriend move around.

He dips the towel into the cool water, and places it over your warm forehead.

“Too cold?”

“No, perfect, actually.”

He takes a seat near your bedside table, hand on your blanket-covered leg.

“You didn’t tell me you were feeling sick.” To many, Xavier is unreadable. But you catch the small changes in his facial expressions. The way the corners of his lips turn slightly upward when he’s waiting for his hotpot order after a long day. The faraway look in his eyes when he looks out the balcony, stargazing. Now, it’s a small frown, although it doesn’t mean any anger. A mix of concern, tenderness, and something else… hurt? Fear?

“I told you, I’m strong enough. It’s just the flu, right? Someone at HQ caught it too, I filled in for them.”

“You can be so hard-headed sometimes, you know that?” His gentle voice wafts over you.

“Says the one who comes home looking like they got mauled by a bear.” You smirk under the face mask, and he huffs in response.

“Some people are delirious when they have a fever. You must be remembering things wrong.”

“Ah,” you tilt your voice higher to sound dramatic. “So the first aid kits I use on you are just delusions. What ever shall I do then, my knight?” He sighs and looks away, a hint of a smile lingering on his face. This time, he doesn’t look necessarily sad. More wistful, nostalgic. “Maybe he’s the one reminiscing,” you think to yourself. When he chuckles, a smile crosses your lips, too.

“Think about good things. And sleep.” He brings the Galaxy Kid plushie beside you. You notice him lift his hand further near your cheek, then move it to pat the stuffed toy.

Before he can fully pull his hand away, you grab his hand and nuzzle into it. It strikes you that this is something that he usually does towards you.

“I still have my knight to thank. How would I ever recover without his service?” You feel his eyes on yours. Although you feel bashful, you hold his gaze. It’s hard to look away from him— not when what’s reflected in the blue is security, comfort, love— only for you.

Then quietly, “I’ll let you know when something happens to me next time.”

He smiles, thumb rubbing your cheek, then gently takes your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“You should rest for now. I’ll get you that hotpot so you can take your medicine already.”

“Alright. Oh, I should message Dr. Zayne, I was supposed to have an appointment with him tomorrow but I’ll just have that rescheduled. I’ll tell him I’m sick.”

He frowns, eyebrows knitted together. “Do you really need to do that immediately?”

Was that jealousy? You hold in your laugh and boop his nose instead.

“Okay, okay. Don’t forget to ask for more tofu with my soup.”

“Mhm.” He kisses your cheek gently. “See you later.”

⊹˚₊‧──────────‧─────────‧─────────‧──────────‧₊˚⊹

A/N: my hc is that other than MC’s heart condition/Protocore Syndrome, she rlly is healthy and fit (realistically i think you would need to be if you were a hunter) but she's the kind of person who tends to get Really Sick if she does fall ill (which is rarely). thinking abt it actually i have a lot of hcs for MC haha.

anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this one! take care, stay hydrated yall <3

[sushiwriterhere]

it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)

summary: Four times you, Jake, and Javy danced around the truth, and the one time you confronted it.  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader x Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado word count: 4.2k warnings: idiots pining, mmf PiV (unprotected), m/f oral (receiving/giving, face sitting), cockwarming, hangman being hangman, light angst, dacryphilia a bit, mention of violence (stabbing), no use of y/n.  notes: companion fic to my 'a little bit of fun' drabble. thank you to sana and amelia (@laracrofted @theharddeck) for the inspiration! this one's definitely more heavy on the emotion, so please let me know what you think!! tagging: @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie @teacupsandtopgun

one.

Neither Javy nor Jake really reacts when you’re the one to initiate conversation in your group chat.

Bad day. Someone pick me up?

Javy responds with a thumbs up and then a simple-Hangboy’s in the air. See you at 5.

Neither of you speak on the ride to their place; Jake’s usually the one to fill those silences. Javy just places his hand palm side up on the center console and wraps his fingers around yours when you place your hand in his. It’s the sort of companionable silence that stirs feelings you don’t really have the energy to identify.

An hour and a half later you’re settled in Javy’s lap, one of Jake’s old Navy shirts falling loosely around you, Javy’s cock inside you. It brings you a rare type of peace.

He’d made you shower and eat, guiding you through the motions with a tenderness somehow not at odds with his broad shoulders, the military uniform he’d removed when he climbed into the shower with you. You’d talked in low tones over a recipe of his grandmothers’, him coaxing you to tell him about your day. They already had a half-empty pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer.

He’d undressed you from the waist down the same way he’d dressed you after your shower—gently, slowly, like you were something precious and fragile. You very pointedly did not cry. He took you apart on his tongue once, kneeling between your legs as you melted into the couch.

When he slid into you, your mind finally went quiet.

Javy’s got some game on in the background, the lull of the commentary giving you something to tune out as you drift. He’s solid and warm below you, inside you, a constant like the rate of acceleration due to gravity. Occasionally, he’ll shift or smooth his hand down your back or adjust the blanket that’s draped over you, but otherwise the two of you are still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been napping til you hear keys in the door. You recognize Jake by footsteps alone, the way his keys jingle as they drop in the bowl by the door, the sound of him sliding his boots off til they land on the floor with a soft thump.

“Hey, thanks for getting her.” Javy nods against you, his chin bumping the top of your head where it’s buried in his chest, “She tell you what happened?”

Javy smooths your hair so his hand comes to rest over the ear not pressed into him, but you hear their conversation anyways, “Boss yelled at her in front of everyone for something that wasn’t actually a mistake. He didn’t apologize.”

The way Jake scoffs is muffled but your mind can picture his face, “I’m gonna give that asshole what’s coming to him one day. I keep telling her to quit. We’ll take care of her while she looks for another job. ”

Javy laughs gently, jostling you despite his best efforts, “And what? Get us dishonorably discharged in the process?”

It makes your chest clench when he says 'us' instead of 'you', as if Javy would be right there alongside him on your behalf. A pause, and Jake says something you don’t catch.

Javy’s response gets drowned out by the buzzer sound from the game, by the way his hand is still covering your ear. You only catch “never agree”.

Jake is apparently unsatisfied with Javy's answer because you can hear it in the way he leaves the room. You drift off again.

The next time you come to, it's because your dream had you squirming in Javy's lap, reminding you of how he still had you nestled on his cock. Then, there's a kiss being pressed to your forehead. You open your eyes to see Jake’s face in front of you, his hair dripping wet onto his shoulders.

"Hey baby," He murmurs before pressing your lips together.

It's heated, it's possessive, like he's trying to convey everything he feels he's unable to say through the way he licks into your mouth. Javy grabs the back of his neck so he can peck Jake, the kiss so chaste in comparison to the way Jake was just devouring you. It warms you beyond just the way Javy's body heat does.

They've been doing that more often, like they're discovering something beyond years of longing, beyond years of ribbing on each other to try and relieve what they didn't realize was sexual tension.

When you three finally make it to Javy’s bedroom, they take you apart the way they always do. But somehow, it’s infinitely more tender.

Javy fucks you first, rocking into you as you sprawl on his king size mattress. Jake’s there the entire time, kissing away your tears and petting over your stomach to press down on your lower abdomen.

Neither of them stops talking the entire time.

“So beautiful and smart, our girl—”

“I can feel Javy in you baby, you’re taking him so well—”

“God where would we be without you—”

You sob as you cum for the second time that evening, and Javy fucks you through it all. You’re so overwhelmed by the way their words wash over you like the sun on a summer day. The baritone of Javy’s voice murmuring “our girl” rattles around your mind til he finishes inside you.

Then it’s Jake’s turn. He’s just as, if not more, gentle than Javy.

Javy slips off the bed to go clean himself up. When he rejoins the two of you, Jake is already so close. He pulls out at the last minute, fisting his cock til he finishes on your stomach and chest, a punched out moan leaving him.

It’ll never cease to amaze you the way they manage to make you finish with such ease as Jake’s fingers find your clit and he plasters himself all over you so he can kiss you. It should be gross, the way his cum makes him slide a bit against you, but it grounds you instead. You can feel where the mix of you, Jake, and Javy is running down your thigh.

You’ve got Javy’s hand in a vice grip. They’re here, they’re real.

When it’s all said and done, Jake appears with a wet washcloth to wipe down your forehead, between your legs. Eventually, he carries you to the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth (“Javy got to carry you earlier while he was inside you, mind you, so it’s my turn.”).

Laying between them, you start to feel human again. You have half a mind to ask what they were bickering about earlier, but sleep is dragging you under before you can act on it.

two.

Jake's been irritating you all night. He begged you to come to the Hard Deck, claiming lonely since Javy was out of town for the weekend, some trip to DC neither of them wanted to discuss.

Distantly, you know this is how he shows affection. Like a teen boy, he’s poking and prodding at you. In between his turns at pool, he’s pulling you into his arms, grabbing at your waist, yanking on the ends of your hair. Something about Jake just requires he’s touching you at all times when you’re within his general proximity.

Natasha sets a beer down in front of you, before settling in across from you, “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Your thing with Jake and Javy isn’t exactly a secret, but no one addresses it. It’s just sort of, there. The rest of the Dagger Squad seems to have just accepted the dynamic, brought you into the fold.

“Put up with him?” You nod at Jake, who’s trying to show Rooster some pool move that apparently requires one leg on the table. The tension between the two of them has eased considerably these days.

She laughs, “Either of them really, Hangman and Coyote. They feed off each other’s energy in the worst way sometimes, I think I’d go crazy.”

You’re silent, trying to figure out a way to respond. The three of you haven’t defined what this is, haven’t talked ‘feelings’, despite the amount of time you spend at their place, the way your days are filled with each other. You’re not sure how to explain that it just works somehow—on the outside it might seem like you lean into Javy more, but the reality is more complicated.

Jake and Javy are bonded by years in the Navy, nothing quite like constant near-death experiences to foster love. They do feed off each other, but in the way that they’re so familiar they’re almost one. Javy does steady you—but he also riles you up like no one else. Jake brings out the livelier side of you, but he’s also fiercely and openly protective of you.

You're stubborn and unmoving where Jake goes with the flow. You're snarky and sarcastic where Javy is calm, at ease. It just works.

Natasha just looks at you expectantly, and you shrug. Unsure of what to say.

You settle on, "They do drive me crazy, but I think I'm not totally gone yet."

Her laugh echoes above the background noise of the bar.

Back at the guys’ shared apartment, you fuck Jake slowly, keeping your lips pressed together. You whine into his mouth when he hitches your thigh up on his bicep, the position hitting something inside of you just right.

In that moment, he doesn't comment on the change of pace from your usual, more intense sex—he leans into it. He presses his lips to your forehead, then leans his against yours. His grip on your hip and thigh aren't as bruising as they usually are, they’re more grounding.

Jake always talks during sex, never shuts up. This time, he’s whispering more than anything else, and you can’t understand him. You want to ask but the way he’s fucking into you makes you lose all ability to speak.

When you finish, you keen and arch your back as Jake licks a stripe up the side of your neck. You shudder as he cums right after you. The two of you lay there for just a moment, taking deep breaths.

Jake presses his lips to your forehead one more time before pulling out and sitting up, "You wanna talk about it?"

Of course he noticed something was up–that's just who he is. A hurricane of a man, but still attentive to every little detail.

You consider him for a moment, his naked form, completely at ease with your eyes roaming over his body. You think of telling him about your conversation with Natasha, about the way it had made you think through the three of you. Instead, you shake your head and curl onto your side, and wait for him to get back into bed.

three.

Surprisingly, it’s Javy’s who’s been pushing you. Jake’s been hesitant to open his mouth on the subject, but you don’t miss the way he perks up slightly when you and Javy start getting into it again.

“I have a perfectly good apartment of my own, Javy!” It’s repetitive, like a swing dance, at this point. “I don’t get why you want me to move in.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d listen to me, you’d ‘get why’. You live in a bad area of town, and I’m laying awake every night worrying about whether to expect a phone call from the nearby hospital.”

Jake focuses intently on the crossword he’s pretending to do as you and Javy both stare at him expectantly. The last time he’d voiced his opinion, you’d threatened to call his mother and tell her he was trying to tell you what to do. Theoretically, he knows she’d be on his and Javy’s side, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with that.

(You haven’t threatened Javy in the same way, and he wonders if it’s because his mom is the only woman in this situation with a more stubborn disposition than you. Maybe it’s just because it’s Javy.)

"Well, maybe you should worry less." You snark. Javy doesn't respond and Jake can hear the way his eyebrow raises.

“Seventeen across, 'unconcerned',” Jake half mumbles to himself, half trying to break at least some of the tension.

“Perfunctory,” you snap at him from where you’re glaring at Javy, because of course you know.

"That's not an option, sweetheart." Javy's using the tone that says his decision is final, that he won't change his mind–it's one that you fucking hate.

Jake barely manages to stand up to intercept you when you turn around and head for the door, sans any of your possessions but your phone. He wraps his arms around you and refuses to release you despite the way you squirm indignantly in his hold.

He eases his grip just enough so he can lean down to whisper in your ear, "Baby, at least consider it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees the way Javy just stares at the two of you. His expression is nearing anguish, and Jake gets it. The way you pull back every time they try to bring you closer feels like ripping barbs out of their skin. The emotional pain is so intense it rivals physical.

It’s not entirely about safety this time, not really.

"He's being a dick." You murmur, finally acquiescing and wrapping your arms around Jake's torso.

"We're not trying to control you babe, we want you here. He just maybe should've led with that. We want you to be safe." A little good cop, bad cop. Sorry, Javy.

To his surprise, you just say, "I know."

There's no fight left in any of you. Not since someone got stabbed outside your apartment building a month ago and the three of you, well, you and Javy, have been arguing non stop about it.

You just want it to stop—the tension every time you leave their apartment for work, the shared knowing that you won’t necessarily return. Jake clearly is getting sick of the arguing and you and Javy aren’t any less exhausted.

Turning around in Jake’s arms you look at Javy, “You—You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javy’s in front of you in an instance, taking your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely, “I’m sorry, too. We care about you, we want you to be safe.”

There’s much left unsaid, but in that moment, all the words spoken are more than enough.

four.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. You vaguely remember Jake getting up in the middle of the night and him and Javy talking in low tones as Jake got dressed. He kissed you goodbye and promised to come home safe. Javy had gotten back in bed.

The curtains let the gray of the morning light leak into the room, washing everything in a sort of hazy filter. There's clanking from the kitchen, but for just a moment, you let yourself lay there, absorbing the moment. The sheets still smell like that combination of Jake and Javy that lulls you to sleep every night.

For a second, you're overcome by a fear that one day you'll turn to your right and you won't be able to bury your nose into the pillow and smell Jake. He's only gone for the weekend, but it's that part of you that rears its head every time one of them leaves. Every deployment, every work trip they're not allowed to discuss, every morning they leave for training.

The bed dips next to you as Javy climbs in–you hadn't noticed him come back into the room. He smells like sweat just a bit, and you giggle sleepily when his fingers ghost up your ribs.

"Get out of the bed, Javy, you're sweaty," You groan, turning away from him as he drags you backward into his chest.

"Really," He laughs, "You didn't mind so much last night."

Despite your protests, you snuggle back into him, feeling the way his workout shirt slides against your bare skin. It's the sort of closeness that isn't just physical—it's about knowing your partners' boundaries, about knowing that they don't actually mind that you just came from the gym and then climbed right into bed. The sheets need to be changed anyways.

Javy kisses right below your ear and you hum happily. His lips ghost over your cheek but don't reach your lips.

"Go shower," You murmur as you turn around to kiss him.

He doesn't respond. He can't–not with the way you're flush against him, only wearing a pair of boxers where he’s only in a shirt. Not with the way you lick into his mouth lazily, humming when you taste the juice he drank. Not with the way your hands run down his stomach and grab clumsily at his hardening cock.

If you weren't awake before, you sure are now–especially with the way Javy's warm and calloused hands skim your nipples and lift your leg to hitch over his hip.

He rolls the two of you so his weight is pressing you into the mattress. There’s something so distinctly soothing about the position, the way he’s warm and heavy and everywhere on you. You move your hips in a steady rhythm against his.

When his hands find their way into the pair of boxers you stole from Jake, he finds you already soaking. You can feel the way he smiles smugly against your mouth. That just won’t do.

Shoving at his shoulder, he lets you turn the two of you over again. You kiss his neck, working your way down his body. Making a show of wrinkling your nose at his shirt, he yanks it off in one fluid, yet desperate, motion.

The instant you wrap your lips around him, his hands are in your hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re—”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, not when you slide your mouth down the length of him, fighting your gag reflex at the way he nudges the back of your throat. There’s something so sensual about the way your nose almost brushes the curls at the base of him.

“Shit, shit, Jesus,” This is the way you like Javy best, all his boundaries down, just letting himself feel, “Your mouth is so fucking good, god, how do you—ugh, fuck!”

You’re pulling out every trick in the book. You fist the base of his cock in tight grip and let your spit ease the twist of your wrist. He shudders when you pull your mouth off him to lazily tongue at the sensitive spot at the underside of the head.

You know he’s getting close when his hips start thrusting, despite the way he usually holds himself back. The groan he lets out when he comes down your throat is guttural.

“You’re a menace,” He gasps out, and the glaze of his eyes is so familiar, so welcomed in the way that it makes your chest clench with pride and something else.

“You didn’t seem to mind just now,” Reflecting his words back at him before you make a show of swallowing deeply.

He drags you up his body while tugging off the boxers, “I mind because I wanted to fuck you.”

You giggle at the way he fakes his frustration, but you’re cut off when he lifts you up and over him til you land on his face. His strength never fails to stun you.

Javy settles you directly on his face. There’s still a part of you that feels overly exposed in the position but he wastes no time. He licks into you without reserve, burying his tongue in you and closing his eyes and humming in satisfaction.

Javy knows your body through and through—he knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, how he can drag this out or rush to the edge. This time, he’s savoring the moment, bordering on torture. His tongue is slow, purposeful, as it circles your clit and fucks into you slowly.

You can hear the way you’re whining as if you’re outside of your body. Your voice sounds foreign even as you beg Javy please, please, fuck right there, please don’t stop, please.

When you come you slam your hand on the headboard and moan something deep in your chest. Javy smooths his hands over your waist and ass as you come down, shaking slightly. He slides you off him and down the bed til the two of you are face to face again.

You think he might be murmuring something as he presses your lips together, again and again, but you can’t quite make it out.

plus one.

The Hard Deck seems so far away from here, where you and Javy are sitting on the beach behind it. Jake's only a few feet away, inside getting the three of you a round of beers. The noise of the crowd celebrating the end of another week is dim and distant.

You and Javy are sitting side by side, just barely touching. The heat radiating off him is unreal, as always. The two of you are talking about Jake and Javy's families, having drifted to the subject after recalling the way Jake's mom had squealed at the sight of you when she'd FaceTimed earlier in the day. His mom absolutely loves you.

He shrugs, “Momma and Amy knew about Jake and I before we did. I brought you up once and they figured it out.”

That surprises you. You knew Javy's mom and Jake's mom were perceptive, yet open, women, but you hadn't expected this—them seeing not just Jake and Javy for what they were, but the three of you, too.

You lean into him, snuggling close, "What did they say?"

He presses a kiss to your hair before answering, his words muffled with the way his lips move against your skin, "They said you had to be one hell of a woman to put up with us."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" You pull back from him, and shock paints his features.

He laughs, a bit uneasily, "Who else is saying that?"

"I'm not 'putting up with you', I love you, I love Jake, I love you both." You push yourself to standing, unexpectedly frustrated. The sweetness of the moment seems acidic now. It eats at you.

This was hard enough for you to accept. Hard enough to rationalize, to try and understand what it meant that marriage certificates were for two names, that it was 'partners' and 'couples', that the world generally worked in twos. That's enough to try and deal with–much less with those closest to you pointing out how difficult it must be for you.

Javy can't even savor the fact that you've just said you love him, that you love Jake–not when your lower lip is wobbling and your chest is starting to heave in that way when you cry.

"Hey, hey," Javy's voice is steadying, as he stands next to you and takes your hands, "Look at me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

It didn't even register to you that you're crying, but you feel it now. The telltale itch in your nose, the way your throat feels tight, your eyes watering. You rip one of your hands from his to wipe at your face messily.

"Woah, woah, what's going on?" Jake materializes next to you, the three beer cans dropping in the sand, forgotten in the instant he saw you crying.

"Everyone keeps trying to tell me it must be hard for me to love you, and it's not." Jake's mouth only drops a bit when you say love, an admittedly muted reaction in comparison to what you'd been expecting.

"I mean–" Jake starts, but he stops when Javy shoots him a look over your head. It's not the time for jokes.

He tries again, "We fought with you for a month to try and get you to move in with us, it's not hard for us to love you at all either."

For some reason, that just makes you cry harder as they pull you into them, "I didn't fight with you, I fought with Javy."

At that, the two men can't resist bursting into laughter.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Javy says as his laughter dies down, "We're not laughing at you."

You wipe at your tears hastily and giggle just a bit, "It is kind of funny."

“You love us?” Jake’s smile is cheeky, as much as it can be when he feels like you’ve split his chest open with your bare hands and are now holding his fluttering heart in your palms.

Fighting the urge to run or lie, you simply nod, “Unfortunately.”

Old habits die hard.

Later that night, when you’re pressed up against Jake’s chest with Javy at your back, they chant the words to you like a sacred prayer. They say it while they take you apart with their fingers, their tongues.

Jake says it in the way he curls his fingers inside of you, searching for the spot that makes your back arch and your thighs try to squeeze together. Javy says it in the way he inches ever so slowly into you, in the way that he tilts your hips so he can fuck your just so.

You say it in the way you trust them to see you so vulnerable, tears streaming down your face in pleasure, eyes rolled back. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 15

Author's Note: Darrrrrlllllliiiiinnnngggg guess who's back from jail the debilitating cycle of mental illness?

Seriously tho, thank ya'll for sticking with me I have not been able to write more than a couple paragraphs a day lately. Please enjoy meeting a couple familiar faces, as a treat.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

-----------------

Giving the High Lords’ their powers back is, surprisingly, the easiest part of the next hour. Reaching into your power well, untangling the threads of each of them, swirling together within you is easy compared to getting them to agree on anything. They all stand there, in what’s left of the Throne Room, yelling at each other about what’s to be done about your father. Rhys and Helion want him dead now, the Cauldron returned to its resting place. Beron and Tarquin want to go home and be done with the whole mess. Kallias and Thesan want to try and muster their armies, in case of all out war. 

By this point its all a jumble of nonsense in your ears. You’re so tired. Rhys, with his powers returned, is healing nicely from the wounds you’ve inflicted, and despite all he’s endured, he’s the one holding you upright as you lean into his side. It’s taking all your energy to just keep your eyes open, to not give into the warmth that radiates from his skin, and sink into it. 

“We are wasting time!” Helion agrues.

“What he does in the Human Lands is no business of ours!” Shouts Beron.

You’d snarl at him if you had the energy; every time he opens his mouth you wish you’d had the presence of mind to give his powers to Eris instead, but the headache from holding all that had gotten so bad you’d thought your head might actually burst if you didn’t expel as much of it as you could. As is, Tamlin’s powers still prowl beneath your skin; finding him will be a challenge you’ll have to face later, once this threat is finally over.

Rhys’s hand strokes your side soothingly as he comes to Helion’s defense, his snarl making the room shake. He is a sight to behold at full power, everything about him seems to dim the impressive powers around him. Wisps of shadows twirl around his body, twining around your own in exploration. A welcome darkness. You’d like very much to fall into it and not think about any of this for weeks and weeks.  

“We are getting nowhere with this,” Kallias insists. “Let us return home and send out spies. We are of no help to anyone if we end up dead because we went in blind.”

“We cannot wait that long,” Helion presses. 

“We won’t need to,” Rhys says, flicking a bit of lint off his shoulder. “My spy should be here with news any minute now.”

Even you crane your head up to look at him, surprised. He hasn’t moved from the Throne Room, is only now dressed because he summoned something from a pocket realm, when would he have had the time?

He merely winks at you as he says to the others, “Once he arrives, we will make our decision.”

“And we should trust a word from your spies?” Beron snarls. “As we should trust a story about the Cauldron from her.” He’s been rather pissed that a female had wielded his powers, and has taken every opportunity to take a shot at you since getting them back. As if diminishing your ability cleansed them of whatever womanly germs you may have gotten on them. 

“I gave you those powers of my own free will, I can take them back any time I desire,” you warn. 

He has the good sense to step away from you, at least, even if his disdain is palpable.

“The next time you look at my mate like that,” Rhys snarls so low the lights in the room start to wink out. The stars that usually glitter in his violet eyes shrink, pupil expanding until it’s nearly black. “I’ll separate your head from your shoulders.” His shadows deepen, swirling around him.

Mate. The word clangs through them like a warning bell and there are various reactions of disgust and surprise. Helion claps him on the back in congratulations despite the others’ response.

You brush a mental hand over the thin thread that connects you to Rhys, testing to tell yourself that it is real. The loss of the bargains is visceral, it feels as if there’s a gaping wound in your soul, poking around in there feels like touching an exposed nerve, but beneath it, glittering like a million stars, is that tether. The one you suspect might have been the only reason you’re still alive at all. 

Rhys opens his end of it to you, the door of adamant thrown open far wider than it had ever been before. “Are you all right, Darling?”

You could cry from a thousand different things right now, but the fact that you can hear him, feel him like this makes you close your eyes for a brief moment and relish the fact that Hybern hadn’t robbed you of this too. “I thought…” the memory of that dark power holding you down, tearing the bargain apart, flashes across your shared mental space before you can shut it out. “I wasn’t sure this would still be here.”

Rhys’s anger flares down the bond as the memory plays out before him, the arm around your waist tightening. “It will always be here. Nothing, no exiled king, no Mountain, no damned Cauldron, will ever change that.”

“Even if I did punch you in the face?” You quip, eyes blurring with tears. 

His deep rumble of a laugh flows down the bond, fills it with glittering starlight. It is such a contrast to the dark lord mask he still outwardly shows the other lords. Looking at him, they can only see Darkness Incarnate, a creature of shadows and malevolence that keeps baring his teeth when someone gets out of line. Yet here, between your two souls, he is gentle and kind and bright. 

“Maybe if you’d broken my nose it would be different, I am known for my good looks after all,” he returns. “So I suppose it can be overlooked.”

You’ve almost forgotten the other lords are still bickering until Rhys’s remark makes you snort and Beron turns to glare at you. It’s only because your mate flashes his teeth at him with a growl that he keeps from pointing it out. 

You could have stayed like this, warm in both his physical and mental embrace, had a male with wings not entered the room. Fae came in all shapes, sizes and colors, your travels had shown many of them to you over the years, but you’ve met very few with wings like these. The leathery membrane is reminiscent of a bat’s, with a large apex talon at the tip; when folded behind him, the talons make it look like horns are growing out of his shoulders. He weara]s black fighting leathers, fit tight to his muscled form; a sword sheathed between his great wings, a single, ornate dagger strapped to his thigh. You know him to be with Rhys solely from the shadows that mist over his frame, drifting through his dark hair to shroud his face as he enters, his powers not entirely unlike your mate’s.

The male’s hazel eyes flick immediately to Rhys, his features mostly schooled into cold indifference, but you note the briefest flick of relief as he takes in his High Lord.

“Don’t tell me you only brought the Shadowsinger?” Helion asks with a pout.

The rest of the room finally falls silent as the male steps up to the table you’ve all been arguing around. Rhys claps him on the shoulder in greeting, your mate’s posture relaxing at his presence.

The male returns the gesture, the hand he reaches out scarred beyond any repair. “M’lord.” There’s a bit of teasing underneath the tone, as if he says it in joke, perhaps that is why Rhys flashes him a grin in return.

“Well?” Thesan questions. 

“My spies and I have tracked Hybern back to a temple in Spring,” the male says, turning away from Rhys to face them. “Troops are prepared to move, but no one has yet. I couldn’t get any closer.”

You run your fingers over your damaged throat in thought. He has the Cauldron still, why not use it?

Helion asks as much before you can say it aloud. 

“I couldn’t get inside, his shields are extensive. If we are to engage him, we’ll have to draw him outside.”

“With what army?” Kallias returns.

“We have an Illyrian legion and a squadron of Darkbringers standing by,” he says with a nod to Rhys. 

“Ah, so you did bring Cassian,” Helion says with a grin. “I was hoping I’d see a pretty face after being in this cage for so long.”

Beron snarls softly under his breath in disgust. 

“I can break the shield,” you say. 

“Tore through Amarantha’s like butter,” Helion agrees.

Rhys’s attention is now glued to you, as is the Shadowsinger, hazel eyes assessing the way his lord holds you. 

“I can go in first, take the shield down, and you all can come in behind me.”

“And let you lead us right into a trap?” Beron snarls. 

“Would you prefer to go in first?” Tarquin returns.

“Helion and I will be right behind you,” Rhys says slowly, as if he’s still thinking through the details. 

“I can cleave any surprise spells beyond the shield,” Helion confirms.

“My troops can provide cover, if Hybern’s men move,” Rhys continues. “The rest of you can follow along behind. We’ll distract Hybern while…”

A shiver runs inadvertently down my spine at thought, but I force the words out anyway, “While I drain the Cauldron so he can’t use it.”

Rhys nods, a string of affection trickling down the bond. “Once Hybern and his troops are dead, or captured, we send the Cauldron back to its resting place, and we all go home.”

Kallias rubs a hand wearily over his face. 

“I don’t see why all of us have to risk our necks,” Beron snarls.

“Because we don’t know what else he has up his sleeve,” Thesan returns. “We’ve all been in the dark to the outside world for the last fifty years. He could have anything.”

“He doesn’t have his whole army moved in yet,” the Shadowsinger confirms. “We have to move now.”

Tarquin sighs as he leans his weight against the table. “Let us be done with it then.”

You sigh with relief. It’s almost over. This nightmare is, mercifully, moments away from over. All you have to do is tear down a shield and drain the actual, life giving, Cauldron.

The terrifying, cold, bottomless Cauldron that had swallowed you and spit you out. The very thing that had tied you to Hybern’s will and nearly cost you your mate. And you wanted to, somehow, take that power from it so it couldn’t be wielded?

You are in over your head.

You never should have suggested it.

But how can you not? Even with all their powers restored, none of the High Lords can take power from anyone, or anything else. That is a gift that belongs to you and you alone. It has to be you.

By the time you pull yourself out of your thoughts over the ancient artifact, the other lords have filtered out, leaving you alone with Rhys and his spy. It’s only when they’re gone that Rhys releases you, so he can throw his arms around the other male. It is far more affectionate than you have ever seen him be with someone aside from yourself. 

“Az,” he half sobs into the other male’s shoulder.

“You idiot!” The other snarls, even as those scarred hands grip so tight to the back of Rhys’s shirt it looks like he might tear it. “What were you thinking!?”

Rhys’s response is still more sob than laugh, but there is some humor in it nonetheless. “It worked didn’t it?”

“I’d thought I’d never see you again, you stupid prick!” 

When they finally pull away, Rhys is grinning. “Az, you should meet my mate.”

You’re still standing there awkwardly, and probably looking like you’d been tossed under a wagon, if you’re being totally honest with yourself, and the only thing you can think to do is give a little wave. “Hi.”

He looks back and forth between you two, shadows drifting off his shoulders, slithering around his dark boots like snakes as they come to appraise you, much as Rhys’s own powers had that night on Calanmai. Though these are colder and more methodic in their search than your mate’s had been.

“Y/N, this is my brother, Azriel.”

“Who’s blood is all over your hands?” Azriel asks by way of greeting.

It’s an effort not to tuck them behind your back under his scrutiny. “A little bit of everyone’s really,” you mumble.

Azriel shoots Rhys a look that has your mate grinning, “She killed Amarantha.”

“Well, then, it’s nice to meet you,” Azriel replies, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

“You two will get along well, I think,” Rhys says, and judging by the warmth he’s flooding down the bond you know he really means it. This is important to him. 

“You make it a habit of killing dictators, Y/N?” Azriel teases.

“Well we are on our way to kill my father, so I might be,” you return.

The shock on his face is enough to make you grin, even as Rhys slaps Azriel on the back and says, “We should go find Cass.”

Cass turns out to be one of the tallest males you’ve ever seen, bearing the same dark wings as Azriel, long brown hair tied back out of his sun kissed face. While Azriel had remarks on Rhys’s absence to make, this one merely barreled into him as soon as he caught sight of him, nearly taking them both to the ground in his attempt to bear hug him.

Azriel takes up the space beside you, watching them with the same cold indifference he looked at everything. “Careful, he’s a hugger.” Was the only warning you got before the giant of a male released Rhys to sweep you up into a hug of your own.

You awkwardly pat his large back once your feet manage to get back on the ground. “Uh hi.”

“You’re much prettier than he is,” he says when he pulls away, a shit eating grin plastered to his handsome face. “You sure you want this loser?” He jerks his thumb in Rhys’s direction for good measure.

Rhys grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back against his chest. “Don’t mind Cassian, he was dropped as a baby.”

“I was not!” Cassian returns. “Thrown out into the snow sure, but no one ever dropped me.”

“His head’s so big you wouldn’t have noticed if he had anyway,” Azriel returns.

Rhys chuckles as they turn to square off each other, shouting obscenities. “I know they’re a little much-”

You run your fingers over his arm where it’s braced against your collarbone, the weight of him at your back solid and reassuring. “This is pretty much what I’d expect of anyone related to you, honestly.”

He gives your shoulder a teasing pinch, “Brat.”

“You endured all this for them,” you say in a more serious tone. “You gave all of yourself to make sure they were safe. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

He kisses the top of your head in thanks. “I can’t wait for this to be over, so we can go home and you can meet the rest of them.”

For that, for them, you can do this, you can go up against the Cauldron. You give his hand a squeeze. “Let’s get this done then.”

----

The crunch of every dead piece of grass under your feet sounds like an alarm bell. The rustle of the trees, the quiet of the nearby birds, it all feels as if it’s screaming your location right to your father.

You draw a deep breath as you creep forward, then another as the Temple finally comes into view. Hybern’s shield around the building is a lot less visible than Amarantha’s had been, yet you can feel it. There’s a buzzing beneath your skin that grows the closer you get to it, the air tinged with a hint of overripe fruit.

“Hello, Daughter of the Void, have you come to play another game?”

You freeze, a shiver running down your spine. 

Behind you, Rhys and Helion pause too, watching the area ahead of you warily. Cassian had produced armor and weapons for both of them, their swords still sheathed at their backs. Rhys reaches a hand up to grab his at your movements, but neither mention hearing the Cauldron.

“Darling?” Rhys asks mind to mind to avoid being heard. “Are you all right?”

Your stomach is in your throat, it’s an effort to swallow. “Yeah,” you lie as the phantom touch of that icy water brushes over your skin. Cassian hadn’t found armor for you, just a pair of more practical clothes and boots. Helion had offered to cast a shield for you, but his efforts had been for nothing, your body had swallowed up the shield like it was starving for any bit of new power it could reach. Still, you wish you’d found something, anything to make you feel a little less powerless against what you were up against.

“Just thought I heard something.” In a few more tentative steps, you’re at the edge of the shield.

“Come, come and play, Sweet Nothing.”

You reach out a hand, even though it’s shaking, and let your claws slide into place. They’re still a little distorted from Spring’s powers, you skin a war of fur and scales as the warring powers fight for dominance.

You can do this. Your mate is right behind you. His brothers and their winged armies just above the treeline. You are not alone to fight Hybern this time.

“Once we’re through, let Helion go ahead and check for protection spells,” Rhys cautions.

“I didn’t see any before,” you muse.

“He wasn’t trying to keep you out then,” he reminds. “But he knows that you’re against him now. We have to be ready for anything.”

You square your shoulders. You can do this.

The shield splits under your claws as if you’re shredding paper, your hand tingling with the sensation of a thousand needles as you draw all that power into you. After holding the powers of all the High Lords, this is nothing in comparison, even if it is stronger than Amarantha’s. You don’t stop pulling it into you until you no longer feel the buzzing of it against your skin.

“We’re in,” you say to Helion, who strides past you far more confidently than you felt he should be.

Especially when it’s so… quiet.

You tilt your head, listening. There are still no birds here, but there is no waiting army either. Hybern had plenty of soldiers when you’d seen him last, too many to cram all inside the Temple, even with the ones you’d misted under his orders. It shouldn’t be this quiet.

Helion’s head tilts to the side as he too considers the stillness. 

You can’t smell any spells at work, or see any other types of shields.

“Come, come and play,” the Cauldron beckons. “We have so much more to learn from each other, Little Death.”

Why have no army in sight with something this valuable out in the open?

Why leave something you could hear within reach?

You glance back at Rhys, by the look on his face its clear he too knows something is wrong, but he still can’t hear that it’s wrong. 

“Come.” It starts like a second pulse within your chest. 

“Come.” Then the hair on your arms raises.

“Come.” The ground trembles, but still no one but you notices.

Because you were remade. It knows you and you know it. And that’s the only way you have time to run and push Helion out of the way before Hybern uses the Cauldron to send out a blast of pure energy that hits you right in the chest.

_________________________________

Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnaaaa88, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish, @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomeevesy, @localfangirl09, @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewmanblog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msoldier, @amara-moonlight, @darling006, @92494-blog1, @genniecokkie, @nyctophiliiiiaaa

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Accidental Crystal Knight (FoF au au)

So, I was looking over the different aus that have made an appearance on Ao3, and The Crystal Branch was one of them. So here's my attempt at combining it with the FoF au (don't worry I haven't forgotten about the end of the world au for FoF).

We start on a less then routine patrol for the Forest Guard. It's dark a storm is beginning to come in. Branch stayed out along with Tresillo, since the troop they left with were investigating giant footprints in the south part of the forest. If their dealing with Giant issues Branch wants to be on top of it, even if it's just a Bergen that wandered into their territory. Despite the brewing weather, the two are having a very casual conversation about the guard uniform, because Tresillo is on the fence of whether or not to wear the armor since most of his moves are dance based. It's when the rain starts that things go south. Branch sees the hand reaching out for Tresillo before the former bounty hunter does (Pop trolls kind of have a sixth sense for giant hands at this point, Branch especially), and throws Tresillo out of the way. The reggaeton troll falls through the Brambles of the forest's low brush, getting cut up and hitting his head, but hidden. And Branch is taken away.

Keith immediately knows something is wrong when Branch doesn't come home that night. Poppy knows it too, sure she knows that he's takes possible giant threats seriously, but he knows to get back to the bunker before really bad weather sets in. By morning, and after a meeting with the troop that left earlier, a full blown search party is deployed. They find Tresillo, knocked out but Blood clotting saved his life. Still no sign of Branch. They keep searching the forest, but after three days they get the full story from Tresillo who finally woke up. Poppy is horrified that something might have taken Branch, under her orders and the rest of the Guard's lieutenants suggestion, she beefs up security around Trollstopia and on the trading networks between the Kingdoms just in case. All while still looking for Branch.

Meanwhile, Branch was currently being transported to who knows where in the troll world's equivalent to a cat carrier, and he is not happy about it. He doesn't recognize they type of giants that caught him, but he's narrowing down their weak points. No visible joints, probably exoskeletal shells, but there eyes are large and probably sensitive, considering that their practically nocturnal. Branch does not let them think he's and easy catch, he keeps escaping the cat carrier, and attacking them. The female slams him usually to disorent him and shove him back, and try to proorly re-enforce the carrier. Seriously, He has a sword he will cut thought duck tape no matter how much you use. At some point they make it to mount Rageous, Branch tries to escape one last time there, because he hears the twins yelling at someone about how a "better cage" wasn't complete. Needless to say Branch is not sticking around for that. He's about to get into the vent when he pauses at the sight of a troll trapped in a bottle. A hand grabs him and squeezes his breath out of his lungs, next thing he knows he shoved into the bottle with the other troll.

Floyd had been trapped in the bottle for who knows how long, disassociating has become his new hobby, Crimp sneaks him food and water, and the only thing he wants to do is take a shower and sleep in a bed. He barely reacts to when the Twins come back from their little trip, he's horrified another troll was captured, but he doesn't react. He doesn't have the energy. Until the second troll was shoved into the bottle with him. At first he's startled, but he quickly turns his attention to helping the Troll catch their breath. Floyd doesn't recognize the odd armor their wearing or the weapons they had.

"You're going to be okay, just breathe. Everything's fine."

"*huffs* Fine? I've been kidnapped and carted half way across the continent! It's not fine!"

"Doesn't mean getting upset will help. Believe me pissing off Velvet makes it worse."

"Yeah I'll be the judge of that. Those noodle limb idiots aren't the first Giants I've had to fight off, next time that lit opens I'm taking out both of their eyes."

"*mildly concerned* Uhm, My name's Floyd..."

A masked face just turns to the red-headed troll and, "Fuck my life."

Branch does not want to talk with his long lost brother. Floyd was a liar who abandoned him, that's all Branch needed to know. However, Floyd is making the not talking thing very difficult. Every other word out of his elder brother's mouth is either an attempt to make up or utter words of comfort that Branch doesn't need he's a grown troll who licks his own wounds thank you very much. At one point he thinks Floyd's worse then the fucking Spritz. Honestly he's this close to punching out the smaller troll's teeth. It's when John Dory shows up that Branch thankfully gets to load off some steam.

When JD got the letter about both his baby brothers in danger, of course he set off for mount rageous. He finds them in a diamond bottle, Floyd seems happy to see him, Branch however remains on the floor of the bottle silently watching. John isn't even sure it was Branch because of the mask, but Floyd confirms it. It isn't until Floyd starts to talk about the harmony that John hears branch speak, and it wasn't like the sweet little bitty B he remembered.

B: oh for madonna's sake will you both shut up! We all know that the fucking harmony won't work.

F: Branch it will work, don't worry.

J: Yeah bitty don't worry we got this

B: *rolls eyes and stands up* First, don't call me bitty, second we couldn't even pull that myth off when we were still a family, what makes you think we can do it now?

F: Branch, we're still family, we can do it.

B: Please Floyd, we haven't talked to each other in 20 years, I know my neighbors better then you, and i live in the middle of the woods. John, You need to go north of bergentown, there you'll find Pop village, it's hidden deep in the forest but it's there. Get in contact with Queen Poppy, if you tell them I sent you they'll listen to you. She has contact with the Funk tribe they can make an alternative that can save us if they don't have one already.

J: Bits don't worry we got this!

B: John! For once in your miserable life just listen! If your so instant on the damn harmony then do it, but get in contact with Queen Poppy first! If you ever gave a single crap about me, then do this...please.

J: *taken aback and sharing a glance with an equally shocked floyd* Okay, B. I will.

Back in Pop Village, Poppy is besides herself. She had reached out to the other tribes asking if they had any kind of kidnapping (they hadn't, but their on high alert), and asked Gristle to look into forgein connections asking if any sort of giant nation is buying/selling trolls. She's keeping herself together best she can, especially since she's now Keith's primary caregiver, with Branch missing. Speaking of the trolling, things haven't been good. It's the middle of summer so the trolling was on a break from school, however instead of spending time with his friends or working on his book, Keith was spending his days searching the forest. Looking everywhere for his brother, all while wearing Branch's lest vest (he doesn't usually wear it underneath the uniform). Tresillo has been a godsend in this time. EVen if he's out of the hospital he's still not on active duty yet, so to keep busy he's been going with Keith to make sure the trolling's safe, when Poppy can't. The reggaetón troll kind of feels guilty about what happened, even if he wasn't sure what was attacking them. So he's taken to protecting what Branch cared for most, his woman and child. It's on one of these excursions when All three of them come across a Troll and his armadillo bus.

John Dory did decide to check out the forest that Branch asked him too, with how desperate his baby brother sounded how could he not. He ends up stumbling upon a small group of trolls, two adults and a child. He introduces himself, but quickly get side tracked at the sight of the Kid's vest. He knows that Vest. His dad wore that vest, and then he wore it as did everyone in his family, Floyd being the last one he remembers having it, as Branch was too small. Floyd didn't have the vest at Mount Ragous, neither did Branch. The kids eyes were blue, and so was his hair....Holy crap no wonder Branch was so insistent that John come here, he had a family. With how clingy and nervous the pink troll was with the kid no doubt who was the mom, or just Branch's partner and the kid was a case of an ace egg. Either way, bitty had a family that he was worried about. (also how old was branch we he got a kid? This little guy was at least 8 and Branch was what? late teens? early twenties?)

Poppy is a little suspicious of the John Dory at first, after all he's looking at her little Keith in an odd way, but then he mentions Branch and she's all ears. To her horror he tells her, that her Branchifer was currently being held captive. To her surprise he tells her that he's Branch's brother (and that he's brozone, she'd fangirl if she didn't have a scared trolling in her arms). Thankfully John Dory also offers her a plan to rescue Branch. She's about to say yes, when Tresillo pulls her aside and makes cautions her. Go with him is she has too, but Tresillo urges her to contact the other tribe leaders about this matter since this is technically a war crime since Branch is on the council as head of security, not to mention that with his experience in musical combat he knows that the PFH is something that's nearly impossible to pull off, it might even just be a myth so they need a back up plan. Poppy has John Dory drive them back the to the village, before heading out. She gets the other royals involved and asks for their help. Funk is already working on a way to break diamonds before the day ends and the other's (along with the Bergen kingdom) are trying to get in contact with Mount Ragous officals to get them to do something.

John Dory is not happy about waiting for Queen Poppy (His baby bro scored a queen, great job Branch! Also this adds to further theory that the kid isn't actually hers but she and Branch got together after the kid was born...and did that mean his baby brother had to deal with a pregnancy and newborn on his own?) to finish with...what ever she was doing. All he knew was that it was taking time (barely a few hours), and he needed to get this show on the road. Apparently she wanted a back up plan, and he couldn't understand why, the PFH was a perfect plan. Eventually, she's ready to go, though John is worried about the guard who insisted on accompanying her. That is until Tresillo says, "She is a queen who is going into a territory who's people have proven dangerous to trolls, You think we're going to let her go with out protection?" John relents at this, perfectly fine with a third member of this rescue team, at least until Rhonda hits bump and a tiny green trolling falls out of one of the kitchen cabinets.

Keith felt bad about sneaking on to the transport critter, when Poppy asked him to stay with her dad, but the trolling wasn't going to let them rescue Branch without him. Especially, since all of branch's bio brothers would be involved, no way was Keith going to let them hurt Branch again. Poppy can't send him back at this point, and then JOhn Dory drives them off a cliff....yeah Keith was coming along.

Meanwhile in the Diamond prison Branch was beginning to feel the effects of imprisonment. He's started having nightmares of Poppy and Keith trapped in a bottle in Velvet's clutches, and they're impossible to hide from Floyd, because even if Branch tiled the Bottle onto its side they're still practically sleeping on top of each other. Floyd keeps trying to get Branch to talk about it, but all he gives his red-headed brother was that "Just dreams about horrible things happening to people I actually care about." It isn't until a dress rehearsal that Branch finally cut's Floyd some slack. The spritz hurts but the knight manages to recover quickly. Floyd not so much. Branch isn't sure if it's due to Floyd's longer imprisonment, the fact that he's trying to push the little food and water that Crimp and Veneer are sneaking them on to Branch, or the lack of sleep. Still once he watch's Floyd's feet crystalize do major alarm bells start ringing in his head. Though, he waits until Crimp and the twins were gone until doing anything.

B: Sit down.

F: What?

B: Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: Branch don't worry I'm fine.

B: Don't give me that crap. You and I both know you're feet turning into rocks is not normal. Sit down I'm checking you out.

F: *sigh* fine

B: Do they hurt?

F: no, they just feel cold.

B: *mumbling* could be messing with blood circulation...

F: Did you become a doctor?

B: What?

F: did you become a doctor? You seem to know what your doing.

B: No, just field medicine, first aid that kind of thing.

F: so first responder?

B: No.

F: then why....

B: *rolling his eyes* if you must know it's an occupational requirement. And no I'm not telling you why for what my job is. Can you feel this?

F: Feel what?

B: I'm pressing the sharp end of my gauntlet tip into the ball of your foot. You can't feel it?

F: N-no...what does that mean?

B: Well either, you're foot is dying or what ever this is is damaging you're nerves.

Back with the rescue Squad, John Dory's post card is not well received, but Tresillo actually recognized the island so they're not shooting completely blind. Still that didn't mean he agreed with getting them nearly drowned. Though, he and Keith do like John's machette. Keith asks if Tresillo had ever been to the island, nad sadly the reggaeton troll hasn't, his squad's hunts mostly stuck inland.

Bruce is surprised to see John Dory, but it happy to see his brother, even if they parted on bad terms. He also recognizes the vest, and takes notice of Keith's hair color, drawing the same false conclusion. When Poppy introduces her self as Branch's Girlfriend, all he wants to do is congratulate his baby brother on such a beautiful family. All he feels is horror when he learns about Branch and Floyd being kidnapped. Once given the okay from Brandy, they leave to look for Clay.

Finding the middle brother is harder then they thought, it's a good hour or two, of Keith making a clue board, calling Tresillo's old informants, Bruce driving since he doesn't know the first thing about tracking, until Keith remembers how wolves track and finds the funderdrawers. Yeah everyone is grateful to john for keeping them, but are incredibly grossed out. The only shared thought between the whole group when they enter the golf course is "Someone was murdered here"

Meeting Viva and Clay is a little different in canon. Poppy is already stressed out by her boyfriend being in danger, so she doesn't react all that well when viva is revealed to be her sister, and kind of has a little break down with Keith in her arms. This leads to Bruce and John explaining the situation to Clay and viva, still under the impression that Keith is Branch's kid and Poppy is practically the kids mom, and how the two youngest are in danger. Tresillo isn't apart of this convo to correct them, becasue the putt putts are giving him bad vibes and he's not going to slack on his protection detail here. Viva wants to convince Poppy and Keith to stay in the golf course, safe, and spends the next hour trying to convince her to stay. After all, while she feels bad for Branch, Giants got him, in viva's mind he's as good as dead. Clay starts working on their escape, planning on using Poppy and keith as a distraction while they run out to get Branch and Floyd. Tresillo objects to this, after all did they even think that Poppy and Keith would be okay with such a plan. Clay asks why would that matter they would all be coming back here. This sparks a conversation about how Poppy, Keith, Tresillo and Branch had lives outside of the golf course and they couldn't stay. Bruce has to agree with the reggaton troll much to Clay's disappointment. Viva tries to tap them, but this only makes Poppy more upset, Keith unlocks the gate and they get out of there. Poppy's hurt that she and viva didn't get along, but she has to think about more then just herself, she has to worry about Keith, her kingdom and of course Branch. She can't loose her Branchifer.

Back in the bottle, Branch is getting more desperate. Whatever those shoulder pads did was 10x worse then the bottle, and while Branch hasn't had anymore symptoms other then exhaustion and some bruising from the rough handling, the same couldn't be said for Floyd. The crystalization had spread to his hands, legs and even hair. The elder brother is half asleep most of the time and constantly freezing. The shivering gets to the point where Branch feels bad enough to take off his armor, shirt helmet and gloves to try and keep Floyd warm by giving it to him, also to protect Floyd from hurting himself since he can't feel much of his body anymore. This reveals the scar the chef gave him and Floyd is horrified Branch still refuses to tell him what happened but that is enough to know it's bad. They try to escape with Floyd playing dead and Branch calling out for help. The moment the bottle opens Branch jumps out and attacks Velvet with his sword, cutting up her face and using his hair to choke her while telling Floyd to run for it. Floyd doesn't get far, as he turns back just in time to see Velvet Rip Branch off her and throw him to the floor before kicking him into the wall. In the end the attempt fails, and without his armor to protect him Branch suffers severe injuries.

Inside of Rhonda practice is happening (Tresillo's driving since he doesn't want to be involved). From the start it's a disaster. Poppy is pulled in as a practice substitute for Floyd and John tries to get Keith to play Branch's role, but Keith doesn't like to sing. Poppy steps in and tells John to back off when he pushes. Very quickly everyone looses track of why they're doing this by picking at each other's old wounds. The rising tension and shouting, finally pushes Keith over the edge. The trolling starts sobbing about how Branch is going to die and none of them care. Poppy rips off the puffy vest and runs to the trolling's comfort. They all make half hearted apologies but then "Mission the mission, after this we go our seperate ways". Poppy has some chose words for them.

Poppy: I don't know what happened back then. But what happened after? You're all at fault. I used to think could caring Branch was towards everyone, wanting everyone safe, was just him having a good heart. But no, its because no one did that for him, and the one person that did...may Madonna bless your Grandmother soul because she must be turning in her grave if she knows what's happening right now. No wonder Branch never told anyone about you.

Tresillo pulls over and they (Poppy, tresillo and Keith) leave. they meet up with Marimba and Tambora with the plan to get Branch and floyd out of there, before bringing them to the Funk trolls to get them free. Infiltration is easy for three former bounty hunters and Poppy and Keith are fast learners. they find Branch and Floyd easy enough. Poppy and Branch reunite with hapy tears and Keith and Branch hug through the bottle, while the reggaton trolls try to find a weak spot in the bottle. They don't find one and their too small to get the lid off. they have to retreat back into the vents, just as the twins come back.

The car chase is utter hell for Branch. He's fairly certain he has several broken ribs and a concussion, every jump and jostle is a whirlwind of Pain. Even worse Floyd is barely conscious at this point, and to keep him aware Branch is answering any mumbled question his elder brother asks. Mostly Floyd wants to know who the Pink troll and green trolling were. Branch answers but still keeps certain things private, it's only when Floyd starts talking like he's on his death bed does Branch get really concerned. He might not be on best of terms with Floyd but he doesn't want him to die.

It isn't the harmony that frees them, instead it's the proper authorities stopping the boat and arresting the twins at the end of the ride. Poppy Breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Essence and Quincy were successful in getting the mount rageous leaders to help and make a device that could undo the lids of the bottles. Cooper arrives in a smaller shuttle to take them to the hospital in Vibe city, and with Floyd still half out of it with crystalized limbs and Branch developing a collapsed lung, they don't object. (they take Rhonda with them in a separate shuttle).

Branch is taken to get scanned and eventually the surgery table to fix internal bleeding, but over all his prognosis is good. Poppy and Keith wait at his bedside almost never leaving. Tresillo pop in and out, but he's there when Branch wakes up. "You came for me?" "C'mon hermano, I couldn't let you hold saving my life over me for too long."

It's Floyd everyone is worried about. During the transit he lost consciousness and eventually slipped into a comatose state. the doctor's set his fractures and put him on supportive measures, a feeding tube, IV, and breathing tube, but there's little they can do for the crystallization at the moment. He spends three days in the ICU before the doctor's notice a small improvement with the crystal creeping back.

With Floyd not being allow visitors until he's more stable, three panicking older brothers turn their mother-hening towards Branch. The Knight is not happy about it. Poppy was sadly pulled away since she needed to help with all the legal matters of the scandal, being Pop queen it was her tribe was directly threatened and she needs to be present in the meetings with the Mount Rageous leaders. Branch also makes Keith go hang out with cooper for a few hours a day so the kid isn't just sitting in a hospital room. He can't really move due to the chest tube, but he is very tempted to leap out of bed and smack his bio-family up the head, when they act like they know what's best for him. Needless to say they are force to air the dirty laundry and Branch lets them have it. The brothers know they have a lot to make up for and they are willing to make it work. Branch with some prodding from Keith allows them a chance, but he calls the shots. He also sets them straight regarding his relationship with Keith (they are all a little embarrassed by that misunderstanding). Eventually Branch is let off th chest tube and allowed to go home with strict orders to rest and go to a hospital the moment anything felt off.

Life goes on another two months, Bruce left and came back, Clay helped convince some of the putt putts to move to Pop village, Poppy and Viva reconcile, the twins are given a life sentence and use of trolls for talent enhancement is outlawed, John Dory sticks around the village to make sure his brothers are safe, Keith is getting used to have more then one Brother. Eveything seems to be getting better...except for Floyd.

Three months pass, Floyd still hasn't woken up. The crystal is gone, but his limbs remain thin and pale, and the roots of his hair remain stark white. He was moved to the hospital in Trollstopia for long term care. The doctor's aren't hopeful. One day Branch is visiting, his brother's hand cold in his, "If you don't wake up, and make all our hard work to save you worth nothing, then I'll never forgive you."

Floyd's hazy eyes open...

----

Well here's this idea. I think this was a great idea to celebrate the end of the summer semester. Once more ask all the questions you want. I really need to go to bed.

[lesbianhotch]

and fish is my favorite perfume

wrecker gets back from a mission a little worse for wear (wrecker x fem reader, established relationship, spoilers for 3x08, fluff, wrecker sweetness, smooches, a little steamy)

“Ok, so can you explain it one more time?”

Wreckers voice is dulled by the sound of the running fresher, but not by much. You can hear him well enough through the cracked open door from your spot on the stool you’ve pulled up next to it. 

“They were HUGE! Big terrible teeth and one of ‘em grabbed Hunter, but I jumped right on it and showed it who’s boss.”

You nod along, eyes moving to the basket full of laundry that seemed to be staring at you from a few feet away. 

“And they showed up because you were in the water, where you were-“

“-disarming floating mines.”

“And that's why you and your clothes and your armor smell like swamp.”

Wreck laughs, and you hear the wet sound of a washcloth being scrubbed harshly against skin.

“You got it!”

He returned to your home reeking of sulfurous muck and you had to open all your shuttered windows just to prevent yourself from gagging.

He’d frowned when you refused his usual kisses, but agreed to your terms of fresher first, hugs later. 

You’d pinched your nose and tossed the first empty basket you could find into the fresher, directing Wrecker to go inside and disrobe and put everything in the now muddy container. He’d very politely nudged it out before getting under the wet spray and you’d moved it far across the room. 

“I don’t think those clothes are salvageable. We oughta burn them.”

“Ah! That armor’s been through worse.”

You severely doubt that. 

But then again…

“I’ll be back,” you announce as you hop off from the stool, steeling yourself as you approach the stinking basket.

You haul it out of the house and into your modest front yard. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t have a plan in place. A long soak in some fresh water is the best bet for a preliminary wash, but you don't have the energy for that at the moment. An hour or two outside will  have to do for now.

You just want your house free of stink, and your boyfriend clean and in your arms.

The sound of the fresher has stopped when you come back inside, so you come right up to the door and knock gently.

“Ok in there?”

“Ya asking if I still smell?”

 “Maybe,” you reply, unable to keep the cheeky edge of your voice hidden. 

You let yourself in, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth.

Wreckers in front of the mirror, and you can just see yourself in it, despite him taking up most of the view. His armor did all it could, but the bruises on him are massive. Dark and purple, covering his chest and shoulders and arms. In some spots it almost blends into the hair that covers his chest and leads down onto his belly. His back is just as bad, a large misshapen mass in the center of it.

“Oh Wreck…”

He shrugs, clearly not wanting you to worry. “I’ve had worse. Just gotta get some bacta on ‘em.” 

You spy another one across his hip, disappearing down into the towel that's tied around him. 

You want to appreciate every inch of skin that’s on display in front of you. You want to appreciate the map of scars that you’ve committed to memory. You want to appreciate the droplets of water that are slowly making their way down Wreckers back to rest at the top of the towel. 

But your heart aches, and while he may be as fine as he says he is, it doesn’t negate the way you feel.

You’re still behind him, so you get on your tiptoes and press a firm kiss to the bruised shoulder, and Wrecker grunts.

You pull back immediately. “I’m sorry! Did that hurt?”

“No. Was nice. Just…didn’t expect it is all.”

You place a gentle hand on his back, doing your best to avoid the worst of it. “Can I do it again?”

You feel Wrecker nod, and you press a soft kiss to the mottled skin. You do another, and then another, following the shape of the bruise with your lips. 

Wrecker lets out a low groan, followed by a chuckle that makes your stomach flip.

“Don’t start something that I won’t be able to finish.” 

You pull back, internally chastising yourself. You know he’s hurting, and yet-

He interrupts your thoughts.

“I can already hear ya in that head of yours, pretty thing. I’m alright. Just need some rest.” He turns around to face you finally, and he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t want ya to worry about me ok?”

You snort. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.” You lean back, tilting your face up and accepting your first kiss since Wreckers return home. “Now let’s get you into some clean clothes and into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

[cocogrrrl]

soft launching

yn, a streamer, eases the audience into the slow reveal of their boyfriend, kyle.

kyle broflovski x streamer!gn!reader no cws all fluff 😾 wc: 1399

CinnamunHunny donated 5$!: can you say “yn has zero pull” it’s my dog’s birthday please please please it would make her the happiest dog in the world

You read the donation sent on your screen. You jokingly scoffed, rolling your eyes. This was just typical usual banter between you and your fans. Sure, sometimes they were absolutely ruthless, but you loved them despite that.

“Chat, that’s not nice! I’ll have you know that I actually have a boyfriend.” You pouted.

Immediately, the responses were polarizing. Some asked to see him, and some said that you were making him up. You laughed at a few that said he was just a figment of your imagination.

m30wm30w: i bet yn’s js gonna say that their bf is paul dano or something

“Okay, whoever just said that I’m gonna fake out and say my boyfriend is Paul Dano is wrong because it would actually be Michael Cera.” You laughed, seeing the rest of the comments flood in quickly, not even getting enough time to read a good number of them. “I do have a boyfriend, though. I promise!”

For the remainder of the stream, the chat kept on bringing up your boyfriend. Sometimes you’d tease them a bit, describing how he is but never revealing too much. Most of the time, though, you decided to ignore it in the most polite way possible.

What would your boyfriend think about you revealing his identity? Honestly, he doesn’t care. You two have talked it out long ago already. When you started dating around six months ago, you came to the conclusion to lie low.

At first, he wanted things to be kept secret, having only your friends and family know. After a while, though, when the conversation was brought up again, he noted that he didn’t mind if you mentioned him. He said you two could slowly build up to his reveal whenever the both of you are ready to do so.

And so that’s what you did.

That night, you finally broke the news to him. It was after your stream. You were snuggled up on his chest as you scrolled through Twitter, noting your name slowly trending because of the news you broke earlier.

“Babe,” you called, sitting up straight to look at him. He answered you with silence, attention was placed on you. “Finally told them about us.”

Kyle immediately knew what you meant by ‘them.’ “Yeah, you think I didn’t see it?”

“Hmm, I was debating on it.” You hummed, finding your place back on his chest again. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? We’ve already talked about this, and you already know I’m fine with it.” He smiled, grabbing your face by the sides and laying a swift kiss on it.

“Yeah, thanks, Kyle. I love you.” You giggled, rising once more to return the kiss.

So that’s how it went on for the next few weeks. You continued to tease the chat with the idea of your boyfriend, most of them believing you despite the numerous amount of “I’m sure he’s just a figment of your imagination.” jokes that came along the way.

That was all great until you actually confirmed his existence from the perspective of your chat one day.

You were in a Just Chatting stream, not really having the energy to do your usual act but still wanting to interact with your fans. Kyle was across the room, scrolling through his phone as you were streaming. The chat was flaming you once more since the topic of your boyfriend was brought up.

“He is real! In fact, he’s here right now.” You said, turning your head to Kyle, who looked back at you with a wave. “Babe, say ‘hi’ for me.”

“Hi, chat!” He called from across the room. “I’m YN’s partner, and I love them very much.”

“Okay, don’t flatter me too much. I might combust if you do.” You laughed, blowing him a kiss. You felt your cheeks heat up, and so you found yourself rubbing your temple to hide them.

hhhhdong: nawhhh i cant believe yn actually paid an actor to act as their bf 💀💀💀

“Chat, I did not pay an actor! I don’t have enough money to do that.”

After the stream, you and Kyle were cuddled up again. Your social battery was completely drained, so spending some time in his arms would help you recharge again.

“Your chat is ruthless, YN.” Kyle laughed, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“They’re funny, though. Besides, I’m not really hurt at all.” 

You felt like this whole “build-up reveal” thing was fun. It felt like Kyle was a secret you had to yourself. In a weird way, this whole thing felt sweet and exciting to you. You knew why you kept things private, of course, but it was fun to slowly show the world how much you loved him and how proud you were to have him as your boyfriend. Granted, a bunch of the comments still just claim that Kyle’s just a life-size cardboard cutout of Michael Cera.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“When do you think you’ll be ready to, like, show your face?” You asked, leaning onto his shoulder as he did his work.

“Well,” he sighed, sitting up to look at you. “I think I’m ready for it. I barely have a presence online.” He laughed. “The question is if you’re ready for people to peer their heads in your life even further.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You hummed. “I wanna show you off, though, Kyle. I want everyone to know that you are the most perfect person alive—and that you’re not a customized photocard of young Jack Black.”

He laughed in response, cupping your face as he gave you a peck on the nose.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A week later, you find yourself promptly naming your stream “BF REVEAL (REAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT).” You set up your camera, tested your mic, and all that jazz as you waited for your fans to come in. Kyle was beside you the whole time you were preparing things, just barely out of the camera’s sight.

Once you turned on your camera, comments started pouring in, asking where he is. You wanted to ease them into it, ready yourself as your chat did. After a bit of banter between you and the chat, you were finally prepared to show your boyfriend. 

“Okay, chat. Here’s my boyfriend, Kyle!” As soon as you said that, he came on screen and waved.

“Hello,” he greeted with a sense of meekness to it. “I am, indeed, YN’s boyfriend. I’m not being paid or forced to do this at all.” He lightheartedly joked.

“Oh, my god. Not you too.” You laughed. “But yes! This is Kyle. We’ve been together for about eight months.” You had the biggest grin on your face as you talked to and about him, rocking back and forth in your seat as if you weren’t able to contain your happiness.

You got mixed reactions, some driving the “He’s being held hostage” joke to home, but mostly comments invested in your relationship. For the former, you two just made a silent understanding to just skim through those, ignoring most of them.

“So how are you liking them so far?” You whispered in his ear, bringing your mic farther away from you two.

“Overwhelming, but definitely fun.” He murmured back.

“Yeah, that’s what you said to Stan after our first date, right?” You laughed, your voice a little louder now but still mostly indiscernible to your viewers.

“My god,” he rolled his eyes, moving his hand to your scalp to mess it up.

“You aren’t denying it, though!” Your voice was now booming, your audience could definitely hear you now. 

“I’m not confirming or denying anything!” He laughed.

“Uhuh,” you sarcastically replied, nodding as you leaned into him briefly to give him a kiss on the lips. “Totally.”

Your chat was now exploding.

mattstonestoes: PDA WTF

csvismz: theyre so cute i 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶

gorrilass: get that shit away from me 

ppp0ppy: this is not for the eyes of god!!!!!!

lkkopi: MICHAEL CERA NO I THOUGHT YOU WERE MARRIED

rosesandlavenders: WAHHHH 💗💗💗💗

dennysofficial: MY OTP ☹️☹️

You shared a laugh with Kyle, reading the comments. This went better than you would’ve expected. Despite everything, you were just glad that you could finally go public and show the world your wonderful boyfriend.

[tosaveaforest]

Merits. Xie Lian was low on merits again, which was nothing new, he had grown used to make a living by collecting scraps in the mortalrealm, it was something he enjoyed as it meant he was able to wander around and explore, connect with people and learn about new traditions and cultures. The world was an everchanging place and Xie Lian loved it, even though it didn’t love him back. He spent the last centuries as a scrap collector, a humble Daoist, and more often than not he ended up in trouble, both accidentally causing it or unknowingly walking into it. But he had been fine. There wasn’t much he needed, if only a bamboo mat and a roof over his head. He was also fine with sleeping beneath the stars, but under certain weather conditions a roof was nice nevertheless.

And even after he ascended for the third time, his favorite place to be was still the mortal realm. Whenever he tried to talk to any of the other Heavenly Officials they pretended not to hear him or if they actually talked to him there were a lot of snarky remarks and mean comments. He was used to it, but that didn’t mean it did not sting from time to time, and there also were Feng Xin and Mu Qing; former friends and companions from his past, now nothing more than strangers. Yes, Xie Lian preferred staying away from the Heavenly business as far as possible, but that didn’t stop Ling Wen and the Heavenly Emperor himself from trying to get the Crown Prince to socialize, or working to get his hands on more merits to make his life a little easier.

“There is a haunted forest and you want me to go investigate because people keep being murdered there? And you believe it is connected to the missing forest guardian? Hmm.”

Xie Lian tilted his head to the side, looking like he was contemplating things when it was already obvious he had no chance to decline, not when it was Jun Wu who asked him to solve this very mystery. Eventually he nodded, accepting the scroll Ling Wen offered him, taking a short glance at it before storing it away in his sleeve.

“Thank you, Ling Wen. I will go to the Nature Palace to ask about the missing guardian and then I will be on my way. I will stay in touch.”

Well, he would try to, but they both knew Xie Lian’s spiritual energy was very limited and it was prone to running out whenever he was in desperate need of contacting Ling Wen in the communication array. The Crown Prince smiled gently and then turned around to leave, making his way over to the part of the Capital that inhabited the palace of the Rain master and the rest of the nature gods and goddesses.

Xie Lian was genuinely surprised when he approached the Nature Palace. While everything was kept in gold like the rest of the city, this part was also incredibly green, with soft grass and trees bearing different fruits, looking ready to be harvested despite it being early spring. He curiously glanced around, but once he entered the Nature Palace he stopped a moment, being in complete awe with what he saw.

The atmosphere in the Nature Palace was calm and relaxing and the Officials walking around did not seem hostile at all, they looked at him with equal curiosity. Xie Lian tried not to stare too much, as he had never seen Officials and guardians like these before; most of them had hooves and their heads were crowned with all different shapes of horns and antlers. The Crown Prince found them all to be rather mesmerizing. He cleared his throat and then slowly stepped forward, he had been away from the Heavenly Court for so long and did not know who was in charge of this Palace, so he approached a lady official with a pair of antlers on the side of her head.

“Greetings. I am here to investigate a matter by the Emperor’s order, it is about a missing guardian from this Palace? Can you tell me more about that?”

[serqphites]

thinking thoughts of ALISON MILLER coming home from work and finding u in agony because of ur period (yes this is a complete self insert) ᡣ𐭩

—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—✦—

imagine her coming home after an excruciatingly long day of work, sweat and grime clinging to her as she enters your home. god is she ready to complain about her day and crawl up into your lap until-

“hon? r’you okay?” all previous thoughts of her shitty day simply fall from my mind, now being replaced by concerning thoughts as she notices you hunched over in the kitchen. your hands grip at the side of the dinner table, knuckles pure white and head held low as you slowly rock your hips from side to side.

“cramps- won’t stop-“ is all you can manage to muster up the energy to say, breaths coming in sharp bursts. alison’s hands are snaking around your waist within seconds, her body melting into your own and matching your sways as she nuzzles her face into the back of your neck.

“c’mere” with her hands remaining on your hips, she slowly begins guiding you towards the couch, taking you the whole way and keeping you upright before helping you to get comfortable on the sofa. “did you take anything for it?” jesus christ her voice is so gentle, croaky and deep sure, but gentle.

you nod your head as she moves to sit next to you, leaning backwards and spreading her legs before pulling you to lay your back against her front; through gritted teeth you answer her worries, “yeah, waiting for it to kick in.”

without another word, ali nods as your body relaxes atop her own, her calloused and grimy hands worming their way underneath your shirt to allow her to begin massaging you in just the right spots. despite her big and tough exterior, she’s still so so so fucking gentle with you, all she ever wants is to keep her girl safe and happy. the entirety of her very soul is fully devoted to you, sworn to always love and care for you until her dying breath. that is what marriage is all about, right? it’s about keeping your woman satisfied, making sure she’s all taken care of and never has to work a single day in her life, is it not? well, it is to alison anyways.

her touch is almost as gentle as her raspy voice as she mumbles comforting words into your ear, “you’re s’bloated babe” and she’s chuckling quietly, “it’ll kick in soon don’t worry” soft kisses are pressed to your temple, “you need anything? hot water bottle or somethin’?” her eyes are fluttering closed as she speaks to you, her exhaustion from a hard days working painfully obvious, but she doesn’t care. as long as you’re uncomfortable, she’s fine losing sleep. as if she could ever even begin to think about resting if she knows that you’re struggling in any way, shape or form.