#I rarely remember sensations in dreams

[basingstokemercury]

okay

wow

that was a messed up dream

and I say as a perennial weird-dream-haver

might need to lay off mikado and yeomen for a while?

[adimilkys]

JJK men waking up horny at night

MDNI : 18+, smut, somnophilia, masturbation, p in v, degradation and much more

Contains : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushigiro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna (I was throwing up while writing his bitch ass 😾 I still love you Sukuna 😔)

small note : remember! Consent is everything, so let’s say the reader and character made an agreement on not minding if they would wake up to head etc. Not proof read

Gojo Satoru

He often got wet dreams, either waking up to morning wood or- waking up in the middle of the night.

And that’s what happened this time, it’s 3 am and Satoru let out a groan as his eyes opened, his whole face was red, it was so goddamn hot in here. He looked over at your peaceful face, wrapped his hands around you and pulled you closer.

He breathed in your smell, leaving kisses all around your neck and shoulders, slightly grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“Fuck… not letting me rest in my sleep either.” A quiet whine left his mouth, one hand going under his shirt that you were wearing, while the other one pulled your panties to the side, you usually only slept in his shirt and your panties, so he had easy access to your body.

“Baby… I need you…” two of his fingers entered you, he started moving them slowly and scissoring them, you let out a soft moan and clenched your thighs together- but still asleep.

He sped up his pace, taking his own cock into his hand and started stroking it. You let out a louder moan, feeling something tighten inside your stomach.

Suddenly your eyes shot open as your hand instantly went to grab his wrist. “T-Toru!” You cried as he added a third finger.

“M’sorry baby… I was so horny…” he was also close, groaning as he was stroking his cock faster.

“C-Can I put it in? Please please I need to feel you…” You nodded, not able to say anything, the only sounds leaving your mouth being moans of his name.

His fingers left your hole, you whined at the lost sensation but it was immediately replaced with his cock, you gasped at the feeling of being so full. He had your back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, holding them up so it was easier for him to slide in.

His thrusts were slow and deep, hitting your cervix every time.

“Toru!! Ah- c-close!” You moaned, your nails were digging into his shoulder as he fastened his pace.

“S-shit… me too baby, me too.” One of his hands left your thigh, letting it lay on the bed, it instead went to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched as you came, he wasn’t far behind, a few more strokes and he buried himself deep inside and shot his loads of cum.

As he pulled out you both were a panting mess. He moved your panties back, his hands wrapping around your waist and head hid in your shoulder.

“I’ll clean you up in the morning…”

Nanami Kento

It was rare for him to get wet dreams, it basically never happened, until this night.

He was rock hard and itching to touch you but he didn’t want to wake you up. You came back from work really late and exhausted, it was a hard day for you.

He could just jerk off, but he wanted you so bad. He got onto his knees, making you lay on your back as he pushed your legs apart, slowly pulling your panties off, making sure you won’t wake up.

He grabbed his cock in his hand and started stroking it, imagining it was your hand right now. You were so cute asleep, his beautiful wife.

You probably would tease him for days if you found out what he was doing, he just wanted to quickly get off to your body and go back to sleep.

He leaned down, kissing all over your exposed cleavage and neck, leaving small marks with every kiss, you’ll probably wake up and wonder where’d they come from.

He’ll explain himself tomorrow, right now it wasn’t important. What was is that he’s closer and closer, he started moving his hand faster, shooting out ropes all over your stomach that was exposed due to your shirt being ridden up, following with a muffled moan.

When he calmed down, he grabbed a tissue from the shelf and cleaned the cum off you. Putting your panties back down and laying down next to you, cuddling you.

Toji Fushigiro

He dreamt of you pregnant all over again, your round belly, filled with his child. He knows he has a breeding kink, so it’s obvious that he has gotten hard just from thinking about it.

Megumi wouldn’t mind a little brother, or maybe sister. Fuck, he wanted to get you pregnant again. He knows you’re on that shitty pill- he needs to flush them down the fucking toilet.

But right now all he needed was you. He grabbed your sleeping face and slammed his lips on yours, making you gasp, which allowed his tongue to enter.

“Mhmm- too-ji?” You muffled out barely awake, confused why in the middle of the night your man started furiously attacking your mouth.

“Fuck- feel what you did to me doll, got me all hard even in my sleep, yeah?” You let out another gasp, feeling his hard erection press against your clothed pussy.

Not letting you say anything he ripped your panties and immediately positioned his cock against your entrance.

“T-Toji! What if we wake up Megumi-”

“Then you have to quiet down all these pretty sounds, hm?” And just like that he slammed his dick inside of you. You quickly bit down on your hand, muffling your loud cry.

Not letting you adjust, he continued slamming in and out of you at a quick pace. Tears filled your eyes from the pleasure, trying the best to muffle your loud moans. Your other hand scratched at his back.

He grabbed the hand that was covering your mouth and replaced it with his lips, you could’ve sworn you felt his tongue in your throat, it was a messy kiss- tongues and teeth clashing together. Then he moved down to your neck, leaving marks all over it.

“A-Ah! S-Slo’down- T’muchhh!” Instead of actually slowing down, he only went faster if that was even possible at this point.

“I know you can take it, doll. You always do.” With every thrust you were closer, it was also hard to be quiet with this beast of a man slamming into you at an inhuman pace.

“Toji- close so close!”

“Come on, cum f’me” Your head threw back, not able to contain the loud cry that left your mouth, his pussy clamped down so hard on his cock that he came short after you, letting out a load groan as he filled you up.

“One more round?”

“Toji- wait, AH-”

Choso Kamo

You’re his first ever partner, he’s still not used to all those relationships things. So just imagine his confusion when he woke up at 2 am, his dick rock hard and his body hot.

He looked over to you, sleeping so beautifully, you were asleep and didn’t even do anything- what happened??

He couldn’t go back to sleep, he was too horny. You won’t be mad if he wakes you up, right?

He carefully shook you, calling out your name. After a minute you opened your eyes, mumbling out some incorrect words. When you saw it was Choso who was sitting up, looking all worried you immediately raised yourself up on your hands.

“Love…? What’s wrong?” You asked, his face got red immediately, embarrassed to say what happened.

“I- woke up and my dick was hard, I didn’t know what happened so I woke you up.” You stared at him and let out a soft laugh, sitting up next to him.

“Oh baby, you probably just had a wet dream.” He looked at you confused, still not understanding what that meant.

“A wet dream is when you dream about something sexual.” He let out a quiet ohh, you shook your head smiling.

“Want me to help?” He didn’t move for a while before slowly shaking his head, still embarrassed that he had to wake you up for that. You took his dick in your hands, slowly moving them up and down before lowering your head and leaving kisses all over his cock.

His hand buried itself in your hair as he let out a quiet moan, begging you to not tease him. You complied to his request, taking as much of him as you can in your mouth.

He slightly thrust his hips forward, making the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. “M-m’sorry… had too-“ he whined as your plump lips dragged on his dick, your mouth so warm. The rest that you couldn’t fit in was wrapped around your hand, not being forgotten.

The way you looked up at him, the way that your mouth moved- he was getting closer and you knew it, your movement got faster and he gripped your hair tightly, letting out a moan as he came inside your mouth.

You swallowed it all, giving his head a last kiss before raising yourself up and wiping the corners of your lips with your hand. “You did so good love” he blushed at the praise,

“I’ll repay you tomorrow, okay?”

“Choso, you know you don’t have to-”

“But I want to.”

Ryomen Sukuna

He will not wake you up and admit that he got hard because of a stupid dream, there’s absolutely no way. He won’t ‘jerk off’ either, that would be just low of him.

So he will indeed wake you up but by his cock inside of you. He immediately got to work, ripping your panties off and throwing them somewhere in the room, getting in between your legs as he picked them up and held them against your chest.

He spit down on your pussy, the cold sensation making you shiver in your sleep. He grabbed one of his cocks and positioned it against your entrance, he would use both but getting you prepared for the other one would take too long.

And with a quick thrust he was deep inside of you, filling you up. The sudden intruder immediately woke you up, letting out pleasurable but also painful scream.

“Ngh—! wha-?!” Your eyes darted around the room before laying on the huge frame of Sukuna, who was glaring at you.

“Quiet, brat. This is your fault so now take it.” Your back arched off the mattress as he suddenly started moving, still half asleep not knowing what’s happening.

“Ryo-! Wait! Let me-” before you could finish your sentence a loud moan left your mouth, he did not plan on giving you any mercy with how fast he was ramming inside you.

You yelped as he slapped your ass harshly, “That’s for waking me up, brat.” You wanted to reply to him but you couldn’t form the words, even if you did you knew that would just result in another slap.

He didn’t even bother at pulling out as he picked you up and flipped you onto your stomach like a ragdoll. Continuing with his harsh slams, you felt every vein, with how big he was he was hitting every spot inside your pussy.

His hand grabbed your head and pushed you further into the pillow, making you arch more. He was slamming into you so hard it felt like he was rearranging your guts. The knot in your stomach tightened as you clenched around him.

“Cum, slut.” With his words your hands gripped onto the pillows and with almost a scream-like moan you came so hard you saw stars, but even with your tight pussy clamping around him so hard his thrusts didn’t slow down.

He once again grabbed your body, now picking it up and making you sit on his lap, your back against his chest as he bounced you up and down. You were so fucked out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your tongue out as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you, so greedy for my cock.” He smirked, pinching your nipple.

“Ryooo— I can’t-” he slapped your ass once again, making you let out a cry, feeling another orgasm coming soon.

“Close already?” He scoffed “Pathetic” you squirmed as his hand went to your clit. One hand on your throat, second on your boobs, third wrapped around your waist making you bounce and fourth on your clit.

“Haa- n-nono-“ you cried as the next orgasm hit you, squirting all around his cock and hand. Leaving you a panting and overstimulated mess.

“What a messy pussy…” he groaned as he slammed you down, cock buried so deep there was a bulge on your stomach as he filled you with his load.

You were sure you would fall down on the bed if he wasn’t holding you up. He pulled his cock out just to fill you again with his second one.

“Did you think we were done, brat?”

[change-the-rules]

even my subconscious is done with my bullshit just woke up in a cold sweat

'The Only Way Out Is Through'

beating a heavy unrelenting tattoo in my skull

[esouliie]

that’s when i could finally breathe.

(wandanat x reader)

summary | you didn’t know having the best surgeons in the world as girlfriends usually meant being the loneliest person.

tags | hurt/comfort, poor mental health, hospital au, wanda is so gentle with reader, fic is inspired by taylor swift!!

Summer had always been your favourite season. The heat of the sun, the taste of ice cream melting on your tongue, and the sensation of warm sand beneath your feet—it was when you felt most alive. Your wardrobe was a testament to this: light dresses, miniskirts, and shorts that flattered your sun-kissed skin. But now, it had become your favourite for a different reason. It was summer when you first moved in with Natasha and Wanda. Their beach house was like that of a dream, larger than anything you’d ever lived in before. It stood tall and proud on the beachfront, its white shell-coloured walls and soft blue accents blending seamlessly with the surrounding environment. Inside, the house was open and airy, sunlight flooding in through the large windows, which offered an unobstructed view of the shimmering ocean. The seagulls' calls echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the peaceful life you'd found here with your girlfriends.

You remembered how that first week had been pure bliss. The three of you had spent days "christening" each room, the laughter and love you shared echoing off the walls as you tangled in each other’s embrace. During the day, you would lounge together on the beach, Natasha daring you to swim out farther into the ocean while Wanda kept a watchful eye, her smile soft and affectionate. It was everything you’d ever dreamed of—a home filled with love, a future filled with endless possibilities.

But that summer felt like a lifetime ago.

The days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. You went through the motions, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in a fog you couldn’t seem to shake. Natasha was out more often than not, her career as a cardiologist taking her away for long hours, sometimes even multiple days at a time. Up to becoming the next Head Chief of Surgery, she was a force of nature at work, tirelessly moving from one critical case to the next. Wanda, a neonatalogist, was around more often, but recently her presence was like a ghost in the house—she was always preoccupied, her thoughts wrapped around the delicate lives she fought to save every day. Her latest case being quadruplets with their own unique life threatening disorders that required assistance from doctors all over the hospital. You could see how exhausted she was, her eyes sunken beneath her glasses for when she’s been straining her eyes too much.

And you understood the importance of their work, you really did. They were saving lives, making a difference, and that was something you had always admired about them. But lately, admiration had been replaced with a growing emptiness that gnawed at you. The house felt colder, larger, and the silence between you three had become almost unbearable. Meals together were rare, but even when they did happen, you felt like you were dining alone. You sat at the table, picking at your food, barely tasting it, while Natasha and Wanda exchanged brief conversations about work—medical jargon that you used to find fascinating, but now only served to remind you how far apart you were growing. You wanted to speak, to tell them how you were feeling, but the words never seemed to come. Instead, you would just nod, smile when appropriate, and try to pretend everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

Tonight was supposed to be different, though. It was the night before your semester started again, and they had promised to be home early for dinner, with no work talk. You had spent the afternoon preparing a meal, something simple but special—your way of bringing back a piece of normalcy, a piece of the life you missed so much. As the clock ticked on and the evening slipped away, hope slowly faded. You sat at the dinner table, the food untouched, candles flickering softly. The silence was deafening. No texts, no calls—just empty chairs where Wanda and Natasha were supposed to be. You forced yourself to eat, each bite tasting like ash in your mouth. You kept glancing at the door, hoping to hear the familiar sound of their voices, the comforting click of the door unlocking. But the only sound was the distant crash of waves and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

By the time you realised they weren’t coming, tears were already blurring your vision. You cleaned up in a haze, your movements mechanical. You packed away the uneaten food for them when they come home, put the dishes in the sink, and blew out the candles, the scent of melted vanilla wax mingling with the salt of your tears. You didn’t even bother with dessert, your appetite gone along with the last shred of your hope for the night. This was it. Your relationship slipping away from underneath you. Heading to bed, you felt like a ghost drifting through the house. You crawled under the covers, curling up into yourself, the loneliness a cold weight on your chest. Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it did, it was restless, filled with dreams of empty spaces and silent room.

Weeks passed like this, with you becoming more and more of a shell. Your thoughts spiraled downward, a mixture of poor mental health, the overwhelming work load from school, and the crushing loneliness that came from being around the people you loved who seemed to be slipping away. They didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, but there was always something more pressing—an emergency at the hospital that had them leaving in the middle of movie night, or a case that couldn’t wait as they left you lonely at the dinner table. And so, you sank further into yourself, your once vibrant spirit now dulled by the weight of it all.

One afternoon, Wanda came home early – a rare occurrence that would have made you happy, once. She walked into the house, the usual tension in her shoulders softened by a rare quiet day at the hospital. She called out for you, her voice echoing through the silent rooms, but you didn’t respond. Maybe you were still at school she initially thought, but something tugged at her, an intuition she couldn’t ignore, and she followed it outside.

The sight of you on the beach, sitting alone with your knees pulled to your chest, caught her off guard. The waves lapped at the shore gently, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you. You didn’t hear her approach; you were too lost in your thoughts, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed freely, salt stinging as the wind whipped at your skin.

“Hey,” she whispered, kneeling beside you, her voice gentle but laced with concern. You looked up, startled, and quickly wiped your tears, but it was too late. She had already seen them, “why are you crying?”

You tried to find the words, but they were tangled in your throat. Wanda reached out, her hand cradling the back of your neck, before wiping away a stray tear you missed. That simple touch was enough to make you crumble. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes softened, her usual composure cracking as she realised just how much she had missed. “Do what, honey?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Everything. All of it. I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to stop it. I know you and Nat are busy, I understand and I’m so proud of you both, but my head won’t stop telling me all these things, that you don’t love me anymore, and I’ve been so lonely, Wands- I miss you,” you hiccupped, “and Natty.”

You met her gaze finally, noticing the gloss of her own eyes as she holds back her tears. Her heart broke at your words, guilt washing over her like a tidal wave. She had been so consumed by her work, by the endless demands of her job, that she hadn’t seen what was happening right in front of her. She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if trying to piece you back together.

“My baby,” she whispered into your hair, trembling as she kept her emotions at bay, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you were hurting. I love you. So much.”

You wanted to tell her it was okay, that you understood, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just cried harder, the weight of all the loneliness, all the pain, finally spilling out. You clung to her, the warmth of her embrace a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you had been feeling for so long. “It’s not your fault,” you choked out, “I hid it from you guys because I didn’t want to be a burden. You both have so much going on, I didn’t want to add to that.”

Wanda shook her head, pulling back enough to look you in the eyes, delicate hands cupping your cheeks. “No, sweetheart, you’re never a burden. We’ve been so focused on work that we’ve neglected the most important thing to us —you. I promise you, this stops now, okay?”

You went to reply, a rebuttal already ready at the edge of your tongue, when Wanda’s phone rang. The sound cut through the moment like a knife, and she sighed, pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before pulling away out to check who was calling. Her eyes softened as she looked at the screen, showing you a picture of the three of you together. It was one of your favorites—a candid shot of you asleep with your head on Wanda’s lap, her fingers playing with your hair, while Natasha grinned at the camera, her arm wrapped around the both of you. “It’s Nat,” Wanda said, her voice gentle. She stood up, keeping one hand on your shoulder. “Stay right here, baby. I’m just gonna tell her she needs to come home, okay?”

You nodded, watching as she stepped away to take the call, her voice low and urgent. You could hear bits and pieces of her conversation—something about coming home right now, about how you needed them both. It made your heart ache, but in a different way this time. Wanda returned a few moments later, her expression determined. “Nat’s on her way,” she said, taking your hand and pulling you up to stand with her. “Let’s go inside, alright? We’ll wait for her together.” You let her lead you back inside, the warmth of her hand in yours a small comfort. As you sat down on the couch, Wanda wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. The two of you sat in silence, the only sound the distant crash of the waves and your favourite tv show low in the background.

That evening, when Natasha returned, the three of you sat together. She listened intently as you and Wanda explained what had been happening, her eyes filled with regret as she realised how distant she had become. How she could’ve been a better girlfriend to you. She reached out, taking both your hand and Wanda’s, her grip firm and reassuring. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, my love.” Natasha said, her voice raw and broken, “I promise to do better by you. I love you. We’ll figure this out together. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone in this. We’re a team, remember?” Wanda squeezed your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, before she said, “We’ll always be a team.”

And they meant it. The following weeks, they took time off from work, dedicating their days to you, to each other. It wasn’t a magic fix, the path to healing rarely is, but it was a start. You spent your days together, and when you weren’t in classes, you were rediscovering the small joys that had once been the foundation of your relationship. Walks on the beach, movie nights curled up on the couch, late-night talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning, slow kisses under the stars as you undressed each other, declaring your love to one another once again.

At night, you lay in bed between them, their arms wrapped around you, the weight on your chest finally began to lift, the crushing pressure easing as you drifted off. The path ahead was still uncertain; you knew there would be hard days, especially as they were soon to return to work, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. And upon your girlfriend’s chest, you realised you didn’t have to carry the burden alone, because they were here with you.

You weren’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you write some fluff about Stanford and taking a nap together? :3

It was a rainy day in gravity falls and it was also the perfect excuse for you to use as for why you and Ford should just stay inside and relax while listening to the gentle pitter patters of rain against his bedroom window.

You were context being cuddled up into his side, head rested against his chest as you leeched off of his warmth, humming in content as you heard his strong heartbeat against your ear and found immense solace in his calm breathing as the sound of pages of a book being turned filled the silence between you both. All these sounds and sensations were enough to drive you closer to the brink of slumber but you couldn’t allow yourself to succumb to those desires, despite how much your body wishes you did, without Stanford also doing the same.

Stanford knew this factoid about you all too well as he smiled to himself. ‘You can go to sleep my dear, there’s no need to force yourself awake for me.’ He tells you as he puts his book aside and brought his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest as his thumb began rubbing your side reassuringly.

‘No,’ You groan, tucking your head further into his chest, tightening your grip on his waist, ‘the point of a Power Nap is that we both go to sleep, not just one of us. I did not drag you out of your lab just for you to do this.’ You pouted.

Ford only chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your head as he mentally listed off all the things that were making him feel sluggish and his eyelids heavy. You, the pitter patter of rain, the inherently domestic nature of your relationship, how comfortable the bed beneath him felt; a bed which he rarely slept on due to how often he just collapse on the workbench in his lab or the couch that sat pressed against the far wall opposite you both, resting snug beneath the stained glass window that bled a kaleidoscope of colours into the room.

Not until you entered his life and started getting him to bed just before he allowed sleep to consume him completely. It was almost as though you had developed a sixth sense of when he was going to go to sleep, and would make your grand presence to always be there before he decides that he could take a quick nap against the hard surface of his workspace. Ford often asked you whether it was an issue that he tended to get carried away with his work, but you silenced him with a quick kiss to his lips as you reassured him that you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be with him.

‘You look at peace when you sleep.’ You admitted to him before shrugging. ‘That and quite cute with your glasses slanted.’ You said it so casually but it was enough to have Ford experiencing butterflies within his stomach, he though he was coming down was something, but was quick to put a stop to this after some thorough research; needless to say he spent that night with eyes wide open and a realisation blossoming within him.

‘Okay, okay I’ll join you dearest.’ Ford said as he made himself comfortable on the bed, tightening his hold on your waist, as he rested his head against yours and felt the need to sleep the rest of the day away with you finally consume him. ‘Let’s go to sleep.’ He mutters softly as you allowed yourself to relax against him and drift off to sleep with the feeling of Ford’s thumb rubbing your side soothingly being the last thing you remember. That and the soft sleepy kisses he planted against your head, making you smile softly as you breathed in his scent that clung to his chunky red jumper.

‘Sweet dreams my darling.’ He whispered against your skin.

‘Sweet dreams sweetheart.’ You replied, kissing his chest where his heart was.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗔

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N remembers her traumatic past, but Matt is there to support her and help her heal the wounds through a day on the beach and playing with toys while recording a video.

WARNING: Fighting, crying, cursing, toxic and manipulative parents, traumatic childhood, a mention of aggression. ANGST with a happy ending.

REQUESTD?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The sun was radiant in the blue sky as Y/N, Matt, Nick and Chris arrived at the beach on a sunny Saturday, the sound of the boys' little cousins' desperate pleas begging to be allowed into the water filled their ears, along with the waves gently lapping on the shore and the smell of the salty sea, bringing a feeling of comforting familiarity to Y/N.

They quickly chose a spot on the soft sand that was close to the area where the children would play, spreading their beach towels and opening an umbrella to protect themselves from the scorching sun.

"Babe, can you put sunscreen on my back, please?" Y/N asked as she adjusted herself on one of the colorful towels, crossing her legs over the soft fabric.

"Of course, hon." With a gentle smile, Matt picked up the beach bag that rested on the sand, fishing out the sunscreen and approaching his girlfriend. He knelt, positioning himself behind her. "Bend forward a little, my love."

The boy opened the tube, squeezing it lightly and pouring a significant amount of the product onto the palm of his hand before setting the packaging aside. He brought his hand closer to her warm skin, watching a shiver rise up her back at the contact of the cold cream, starting to spread it gently on Y/N's back, his large and skilled hands massaging it with care and affection.

Y/N closed her eyes, losing herself in the comforting sensation of Matt's touch. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and the cool ocean breeze caressing her face.

A loud, joyful scream from one of the children made her open her eyes again, looking up and focusing on where they were running, chasing each other while their hands tightly gripped colorful, plastic beach toys.

The laughter that followed them took her back to a time when she herself longed for that innocence and freedom, but rarely experienced it. Her childhood had been marked by absent parents and a lack of emotional stability that left deep scars on her soul, her mind recreating a scene extremely similar to the one she was experiencing at that moment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun shone high in the sky, warming the small playground where a 5 year old Y/N sat. She dangled her little legs on the wooden bench as she watched the other children play excitedly around her. The playground was filled with laughter and happy screams, but for Y/N, all she felt was loneliness.

Her parents, as always, were absent, lost in their own problems and worries. They rarely had time for Y/N, and when they did, she always felt like an intruder in their busy lives. She could hear their voices shouting at each other a few meters away from where she sat, while her father's phone rang incessantly.

As she watched the other children play with their parents, a lump formed in her throat. She desperately wanted to be like them, to have the attention and affection of her own parents, but she knew that this was just an unattainable dream for her.

Suddenly, Y/N felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, making her jump in fright. Her father was there, looking at her with an impatient expression on his face, the ring of his phone echoing loudly against her ear as the image of her mother with crossed arms and angry eyes appeared behind his back.

"Y/N, let's go. We have things to do." He said abruptly, not caring about the sad expression in her eyes.

"B-but daddy, I-"

"Now!" Her father raised his voice, squeezing the skin of her shoulder with significant force in his fingers, practically pushing her off the bench.

Y/N stood up immediately, her heart heavy with sadness and loneliness. She wanted to say something more. She wanted to beg for a moment of attention and affection, where they could play together on the seesaw or the slide, but she knew it would be useless. Her parents were always too busy for her, always too far away to listen.

As they walked back home, Y/N felt a feeling of deep emptiness settle inside her. That was just another normal day for her family.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

As her painful childhood memories resurfaced in her mind, Y/N felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She knew, even at the tender age of five, that her childhood was being stolen from her, that she was being forced to grow up too fast, to adapt to a world where love and attention were luxuries she could never afford to have.

The girl tried to hide it, wiping her face quickly and looking away to the horizon, but the weight of her memories was difficult to bear.

"And... Done!" Matt's voice interrupted her train of thoughts, waking her from her reverie. Matt's hand, now slathered in sunscreen, moved away from her skin, retrieving the tube again before rising from his sitting position.

Y/N whispered a gentle "thank you", blinking quickly to clear away the new tears in her eyes before her boyfriend saw them, a small sniffle escaping her, which she covered with a fake cough.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Nick - who was standing a few meters away - asked, his voice filled with concern as he noticed the tears in her eyes.

Matt, who was next to their bag holding sunscreen again, looked up at his brother's question, his brow furrowed in confusion as he quickly turned around, looking at his girlfriend.

"I'm fine, Nick. I think it's just the sun." Y/N forced a shaky smile, rubbing her eyes with her closed fist, feeling a stab of pain in both of them from the roughness of her movements.

Nick accepted the explanation with a nod, but Matt could see the truth behind Y/N's forced smile. He approached her again, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

"Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Matt whispered softly, his voice gentle and comforting.

Y/N looked at him, seeing the genuine concern in his blue eyes. She was tempted to open her heart to him, to share the depths of her pain and anguish. But the fear of being judged or rejected still kept her hesitant.

"I know, Matt." Y/N muttered, her voice choked by the weight of her emotions. "I just... I was just thinking about some things, that's all."

Matt wasn't convinced, but he knew that pressuring her wouldn't help her open up. He just held her tighter, offering her silent comfort, his arm working to pull her so that she lay her head on his right shoulder, sealing the top of her hair for long seconds, the fresh smell of sunscreen surrounding their bodies.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

After leaving their cousins ​​at the triplets' aunt and uncle's house again, Y/N and the brothers returned to their childhood home, having the need to return a little earlier so they could record the video that would be posted that Wednesday.

While Nick organized the equipment and Chris set up the table that they would be sat while filming, Matt approached his girlfriend - who was carrying her bags back to Matt's old room -, worried about her somewhat distant expression.

"Is everything okay, petal?" Matt asked softly, walking alongside Y/N towards the bedroom.

The girl paused for a moment, feeling grateful for Matt's concern, but also determined not to make him worry about her, knowing the importance of recording that video, since they couldn't publish the one of last Wednesday.

"I'm fine, baby. I think I'll stay in the room for a while while you record." Matt frowned at her airy response.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to be with us, maybe behind the cameras?" His voice came out small, full of concern, but Y/N just smiled gently in response, appreciating Matt's gentleness but knowing she needed time alone to process her own emotions.

"No, baby. I think I need some time alone." Matt nodded, accepting her decision with understanding.

"Okay, I'll be here if you need anything."

A few minutes later, after a hot and invigorating shower that seemed to wash away all her sorrows, Y/N left the room, her hair damp, and a feeling of freshness surrounding her.

She was heading towards the living room to grab Chris and Nick's bags and take them to their respective bedrooms when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Curious about the frequent laughter, she followed the sound and found the triplets sitting on the marble table in front of the camera, opening children's toys and testing them out as content.

An excited smile spread across Y/N's face almost automatically. She approached slowly, watching them excitedly, a small "wow" escaping her lips as she saw her boyfriend pick up the colorful cardboard package with a small lamb inside.

Matt, who was showing Snowy to the camera, turned around when he heard Y/N's footsteps, his eyes automatically lighting up when he saw her there.

"Baby! Do you wanna play with us? Look, this is Snowy!" His voice came out excitedly as he quickly showed the toy to his girlfriend, a childish smile gracing his face.

Y/N nodded excitedly, feeling suddenly energized by the relaxed and fun atmosphere in the living room.

"It's so cute, Matt! I've never had one of those." She responded just as excitedly, quickly moving closer to them.

Chris got up from his seat, taking a new chair and placing it on Matt's left side so that it was on the other end opposite Nick.

"Thank you, Chris." Y/N smiled in gratitude, sitting on the upholstered chair and resting her arms on the gray marble.

The girl looked at the lamb in Matt's hands with a sparkle in her eyes, feeling a wave of nostalgia and joy invading her heart. She reached out to stroke the soft fur, feeling an immediate connection to the toy that she never had as a child.

"Here, petal. Try it!" Matt handed it over quickly, the three brothers watching her as she tried to understand how the toy worked.

"This is like a toy I would like." Nick commented briefly.

"It is so cute!" Y/N squealed, her smile lighting up her face as she turned it upside down.

"Wait, I think you turn it on here." Matt leaned closer to her, bringing his right hand closer to the toy and pressing the small, almost invisible button.

Y/N shook the lamb gently, moving it in the air in the hope that it would make it react in some way.

"Wait, let me-" Matt touched the lamb's back after Y/N placed it on the table with a confused expression.

A surprised scream escaped Y/N and Matt as they saw the toy slowly begin to walk, the girl weakly slapping her boyfriend's shoulder as she frantically pointed at Snowy with her other hand.

"Oh my God!" Chris laughed, getting Nick's attention and watching the toy walk towards them.

"Let me put the leash on it!" Nick asked with a smile on his face, taking the toy and attaching the small lilac string to it before letting it walk closer to Y/N again.

Matt stared in amazement at the lamb, wrapping his right arm around his girlfriend's waist and pulling her closer, while his free hand held the small blue bottle, wanting to feed it.

Y/N laughed loudly, feeling completely at ease and free to be her true self. She never had the opportunity to have toys as a child, so that moment meant a lot to her.

As she played with the lamb and the other toys, Y/N felt overwhelmed by a sense of peace and joy, determined to enjoy every moment of the experience, keeping it in her heart as a precious memory of the childhood she never had.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon when the video came to an end. Nick and Chris were busy putting the toys into boxes to deliver to children in need the next day, when Matt approached Y/N with a mysterious smile on his lips, watching her return from his brothers' room after finally taking their bags to there.

"Baby?" Matt called softly, his voice full of restrained enthusiasm. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? What is it?" Y/N looked at him quickly, eyes shining with curiosity and excitement as she felt her heart start racing.

Matt just shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"It's a surprise, baby. You'll see."

While Nick and Chris finished putting away the equipment, Matt led Y/N out of the house, quickly shouting to his brothers that they would be back soon before closing the door behind him.

The two walked silently towards the car, Matt quickly opening the passenger door for her gently before getting into the driver's seat, noticing from the corner of his eye his girlfriend bouncing her leg up and down anxiously.

The boy quickly brought his right hand to her leg, firming his grip there so that she stopped her frantic movements before stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Relax, pretty girl."

After making sure she was fine, the brunette started the car, driving down the long road, the sun setting painting the sky with shades of pink and orange as they drove away from the city.

Y/N curiously observed the route, trying to guess where they were going. The playlist she and Matt had created at the beginning of their relationship played softly on the radio, filling the car with a selection of their favorite songs that reminded them of each other.

As they got closer to the shore, Y/N felt a pang of anticipation growing inside her chest, her eyes darting across the landscape quickly as her mouth opened slightly.

"Matt, where are we going?"

"You'll see, babe. We're almost there." Matt just smiled, keeping the secret.

Finally, the car parked in one of the beachfront car spaces, and Y/N looked out the window, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized the familiar scene.

"The beach?" She asked, confused. "What are we doing here?"

Matt turned off the engine and turned to Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"It's your surprise. Let's enjoy the beach. For real this time."

The sun was already almost completely gone when Matt and Y/N found themselves walking along the beach, their hands intertwined and their feet sinking into the soft sand, while their free hands held tightly to the pair of their own sneakers. The sound of the waves gently crashing beside them created a serene soundtrack to the moment.

Matt looked at Y/N beside him, seeing the mix of emotions on her face as she looked out to the sea, her eyes fixed on the waves, and her brow frowned tightly.

"Hey princess, is everything okay?" Matt asked softly, his soft voice bringing her back to the present while he squeezed her fingers gently.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just trying to process some things." Her voice came out lower than expected, her tongue escaping her mouth and quickly wetting her lips in a nervous act.

Matt nodded understandingly, offering her silent support as they continued to walk along the beach. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, and he was determined to help her find happiness in that moment.

So, suddenly, Matt stopped and looked at Y/N with a mischievous smile on his lips.

"How about we go for a swim?"

Y/N stopped next to him, processing what he said for a few seconds before her eyes widened in surprise, a smile slowly stretching on her face.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now!" Matt exclaimed, dropping his sneakers onto the sand and taking hers, doing the same before grabbing her hand again, running towards the sea and pulling her tightly behind him, a scream lost against the wind that hit her face.

The two ran across the sand, laughing and screaming in euphoria as the waves lapped at their feet. They threw themselves into the sea, the cold waters enveloping them as they jumped and played like two carefree children, their clothes sticking to the skin of their bodies, but that was their last worry.

Y/N felt a sense of freedom like never before. The salt water washed away her pain, while Matt's laughter filled her ears in joy. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget all the weight of the past and simply live in the present moment, surrendering to the happiness that radiated from each pulse of the sea.

"This is amazing!" Y/N shouted, laughing as she jumped over or into the waves alongside her boyfriend's.

"You are amazing!" Matt replied, a radiant smile lighting up his face as his eyes traveled over the features of Y/N's face, his dilated pupils almost taking the shape of two hearts.

They played and jumped in the waves until they got tired, with each moment sinking deeper into their brain like a precious memory.

When they finally left the sea and threw themselves on the sand, panting and exhausted, Y/N felt a sense of peace and calm invade her being. Matt lay down next to her, their hands touching lightly, both ignoring the strange feeling of the sand against their wet bodies.

Y/N sighed deeply, staring to the starry blanket of the sky above them. She pondered deeply before turning to Matt, lying on her side, the corners of her eyes reflecting the starlight.

"You know, I've never had a real childhood." She began, her soft voice thick with emotion. "I've never talked about this to anyone before, but I know I can trust you, and I feel like it's time to reveal it... after today."

Matt turned so that he was equally lying on his side on the sand and facing her, his eyes showing immense tenderness, encouraging her to continue.

Y/N took a deep breath before speaking again, her words filled with painful memories of her troubled childhood.

"My parents were always busy with their jobs and making money, the more money the better... They rarely had time for me. The only memories I have of my parents are of them yelling at me or at each other." Her voice wavered as she fought to control her emotions. "Sorry." She laughed in disdain at her body's reactions.

"You don't have to be sorry, petal. I'm here with you." Matt whispered quickly, lifting his free hand and bringing it to her waist, caressing the skin covered by her wet clothes.

Y/N closed her eyes before speaking again.

"I felt so lonely, Matt. I never had friends because I was always very closed off, maybe because of the events at home, and the fact that I was quiet seemed to scare the other children away..."

Tears began to form in Y/N's eyes as she relived the painful memories of her neglected childhood.

"I felt so lost and abandoned." The girl continued, her voice shaking with the intensity of her emotions. "I prayed so much to whatever was hearing me to have a normal childhood, with friends and play times, but all I had was loneliness and sadness." She swallowed hard. "You know, my mom used to hit me sometimes... Nothing very serious, she just got angry because of how I behaved so quietly and different from her." Y/N shook her head quickly, a sob escaping her throat.

"Baby..." Matt traveled his hand from her waist to her free hand, holding it firmly, allowing her to cry without interrupting, knowing that she would never go beyond her limit by telling him about her traumas.

Y/N smiled weakly through her tears, feeling grateful for Matt's comforting presence. She snuggled closer to him, sand creeping up her legs, laying her head on his chest, just below his chin, taking comfort in the warmth of his body.

"It's okay, really-"

"No, sweetheart, this is not okay. Please, don't talk about your pain as if it's all alright." Y/N sighed deeply.

"My dad called me last week..." The girl murmured, changing the subject as she played with Matt's fingers between hers. "He wanted to see me again. He said he missed me." She laughed, her laugh full of irony and sarcasm.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N's phone vibrated in her pants pocket, interrupting her as she tidied up her shared room with Matt, taking advantage of the fact that he was recording a video with his brothers. She picked up the device, her brow furrowing as she saw an unknown number on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, it's me." Her father's voice sounded on the other end of the line, and Y/N swore she felt her heart instantly freeze.

"Dad." Her voice came out indifferent, completely the opposite of her emotions.

"Hey, hi! Hm, I passed by your old room the other day and thought about you, I've been missing you, you know? And I'd like to see you. Can we set up a date?"

Y/N was silent for a moment, fighting a flood of conflicting emotions. She knew she didn't want to see her father, not after all the trauma he and her mother had caused herself. But she didn't want to be rude either; despite having grown up in a troubled home, she learned from life to be kind to everyone.

"Sorry, dad." She murmured finally, her voice firm. "I'm busy. I can't." Her father was silent for long, agonizing seconds, seeming surprised and angry at the same time. "That was all that-"

"What do you mean you're busy? Are you avoiding me?" Y/N took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly and trying to remain calm.

"It's not that, dad. I'm just busy at the moment. I need to go..."

"That's unfair, Y/N!" Her father snapped, his voice rising in anger. "I really don't understand you. First, you left home at 17 and completely disappeared from our radar in such a way that I only see updates of you through your boyfriend's ridiculous YouTube channel. All you had to do was find a rich boy, so you totally forget about me and your mother. I fed you and gave you a roof over your head all your life, and you treat me like this? You're an ungrateful brat!"

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, a mixture of sadness and frustration flooding her body in an atrong shiver. She knew she couldn't continue this conversation if she could even call it a conversation.

"Whatever you say, dad. I have to go." She responded quickly before hanging up the phone, her trembling fingers moving automatically as she blocked the number.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"I said no. I was so short with him. Do you think I was wrong, Matt?" She cried harder, her body shaking as the intense sobs tore from her throat.

"No, never! Baby, listen to me. Fuck your parents, okay?" Matt pulled back slightly, lifting her head gently so he could look into her eyes, seeing a strand of surprise pass through her pupils. "Fuck them for always treating you in a horrible way and totally contrary to how parents should treat their children. Fuck them for fucking your head so much to the point that you feel guilty for not wanting them in your life anymore."

Y/N tried to look away, but Matt's hand beneath her chin held her firmly - but gently - in place, stroking her jaw with his thumb lightly.

"You're amazing, Y/N. You're a strong, amazing woman, and I don't want you to feel guilty about everything that happened in your childhood because none of it was your fault! You don't have to be sorry for leaving them and growing up..." The tone of his voice was firm, while his eyes carried a tone of seriousness unlike any Y/N had ever seen.

Y/N scoffed, trying to shake her head no, her mind reminding her that she wasn't any of those good things.

"I'm serious, pretty girl. You're so strong, the strongest woman I've ever met." He whispered, loosening his grip on her chin slightly, moving his hand up so that it cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin gently. "You can let it go, you know? You can let it all go. I promise."

"I love you. I love you so much, Matt." The girl murmured, pressing her cheek against his palm and closing her eyes slightly, her wet eyelashes caressing her flushed, wind-chilled skin.

"I'm always here for you." Matt reinforced, leaning his head close to hers and lovingly sealing her forehead with his lips for long seconds, exhaling the salty scent left by the sea.

"Now, how are we going to get back to the house with wet clothes like that?"

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[satellite-evans]

Pebbles of love

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his fiancée spend a romantic day at the beach, finding pebbles that match each other's eye colors <3

Word count: 1k

Warnings: pure fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Benedict Bridgerton had always been a lover of art and beauty, and nothing in the world was more beautiful to him than his fiancée, Y/N. Today, they had planned a rare escape from the hustle and bustle of London society—a trip to the serene coastline, where they could revel in each other’s company without the watchful eyes of the ton.

The journey to the beach had been filled with lively conversation and shared laughter, their carriage rocking gently along the country roads. Benedict stole glances at Y/N as she looked out the window, the sunlight casting a warm glow on her features. Her hair, a cascade of silk, shimmered in the light, and her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation.

As they arrived at the beach, the salty sea breeze greeted them, tousling their hair and filling their lungs with the invigorating scent of the ocean. They discarded their shoes and socks, delighting in the sensation of the cool, damp sand beneath their feet. The beach stretched out before them, a pristine canvas of soft, golden sand and scattered pebbles, with the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

Benedict looked at Y/N, her face illuminated by the sunlight, her eyes reflecting the endless blue of the sky above. He marveled at how lucky he was to have found her. She was his muse, his inspiration, the very essence of beauty and grace. Each moment spent with her was a treasure he held close to his heart.

“This place is perfect,” Y/N said, her voice filled with awe. “I’ve always loved the sea.”

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with love. “I thought you might,” he said. “I wanted to share something special with you, away from everything else.”

Y/N reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You always know exactly what I need.”

They walked along the shoreline, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to their conversation. They spoke of their dreams, their future together, and the adventures they hoped to share. Benedict felt a sense of peace, a certainty that with Y/N by his side, he could face anything.

“Benedict, look at this one!” Y/N exclaimed, holding up a small, smooth pebble that glistened under the sunlight. It was a pale blue, almost the exact shade of Benedict’s eyes. She smiled, her heart swelling with the simple joy of the moment.

Benedict took the pebble from her hand, inspecting it. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and soft. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Y/N blushed, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink that Benedict found utterly enchanting. “Well, aren't you a charmer,” she said, though her smile betrayed her pleasure at his compliment.

“I try my best,” Benedict replied, slipping the pebble into his pocket. He felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of completeness he had never known before her. “But now I must find one that matches your eyes.”

They continued their leisurely stroll, eyes scanning the ground for the perfect stone. Benedict was determined, his artist’s eye sharp as he examined each pebble they passed. The task was more than just a game; it was a way to connect, to see each other in the world around them.

As they walked, Benedict found himself lost in thought. He remembered their first meeting at one of the many Bridgerton balls, where she had captivated him with her wit and charm. He had been smitten from the moment she smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Their courtship had been a whirlwind of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and whispered confessions of love. Every step of the journey had brought them closer, solidifying the bond they now shared.

Finally, he spotted one—a deep, rich brown, with flecks of gold that caught the light in a way that reminded him of Y/N’s eyes. It was perfect, just like her.

“Here,” he said, presenting his find to her with a flourish. “This one.”

Y/N took the pebble, holding it up to her eyes to compare. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice soft with emotion. She looked up at Benedict, her heart full. “You really think my eyes look this beautiful?”

Benedict smiled, drawing her close. “No, I don't,” he said. “I think your eyes are far more beautiful, my love."

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, collecting pebbles and shells, laughing and talking, sharing dreams and memories. Every moment felt like a brushstroke on the canvas of their love story, vibrant and full of life. Benedict felt a profound sense of happiness as they played like children, unburdened by societal expectations.

As the sun began to set, they sat together on a large rock, watching the waves. Benedict couldn’t help but reflect on how much his life had changed since meeting Y/N. She had brought color to his world, a sense of purpose and joy he had never thought possible.

“Do you know,” Benedict said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think this is my favorite place in the world now.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Because of the beach?”

Benedict shook his head, kissing the top of hers. “Because of you,” he said simply. “Wherever you are, that is my favorite place.”

Y/N smiled, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. “And you are mine, Benedict Bridgerton.”

They continued to sit in silence, the sound of the waves mingling with the rhythm of their breaths. Benedict held her a little tighter, feeling the steady beat of her heart against his side. It was in these quiet moments that he felt the depth of his love for her, a love that was as constant and enduring as the ocean before them.

As the last light of the day faded into twilight, they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the pebbles they had collected lying beside them.

Benedict looked down at Y/N, her face serene in the fading light, and whispered, “You are my greatest masterpiece.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “And you, Benedict, are my heart’s truest desire.”

With that, they sealed their love with a kiss, as timeless and beautiful as the sea before them.

[brain-rot-central]

Up In Smoke

A/N: Basically he smokes weed and has a really good orgasm. That's the whole fic. Very self-indulgent, but whatever. Hope you all enjoy!

Rating: light E Word count: 3.5k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+, dubcon for being under the influence, drug use, alcohol mention, breeding kink, praise kink, male masturbation, mutual pining, trauma mention, intimacy issues

Summary: The gang finally reaches Baldur's Gate. Astarion isn't handling it so well, knowing he's so close to Cazador again. Tav makes an innocent suggestion that he go down to the shops and find something that can help relieve some of his pent up anxiety.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leans over to further inspect the small clear jar within his hands. Inside, a dried cluster of pungent flowers resides. Their faint smell lingers about the small tavern suite. He shakes the jar slightly, following how each bud bounces between the glass.

They've finally made it to Baldur's Gate, and gods what a relief. Not to say he didn't enjoy getting his hands messy, but there was never quite enough he could do to dig out the dirt caked within his nails. He dreamed of soaking in a hot bath for weeks.

Yet, being back in Baldur's Gate also means something more sinister.

It means he’s closer to confronting him.

His old master.

Cazador.

He panics the night before, screaming whenever he'd slip into trance. Horrid memories play behind his eyes. He feels paralyzed within them – the feeling of a hand closing around his neck, a dagger slicing into his back, shackles around his arms and legs, unable to move within the confines of the coffin he lay in for a year.

Tav wakes him eventually, holding him close within their warm embrace. She lulls him back to sleep until he slips into a more peaceful trance. When they awake the next morning, Tav proposes he go down to the shops and look for a sleep aid, or something that could potentially help quell the overwhelming sense of anticipation building within him.

“I only wish for you to be at peace,” she suggests. “You deserve it. Especially now.”

So, he does exactly that.

Perusing the various carts and shops, Astarion inevitably finds an apothecary. He's been to this one before; many, many years ago. He doesn't quite remember the shopkeeper, but feels as if it's the same woman, just now older. 

She's nice enough, giving a warm greeting as he enters the store. The smell of patchouli incense fills his nostrils and almost instantaneously Astarion feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders. 

He explains, in very vague terms, what it is he's experiencing to the shopkeeper. She holds out a glass jar filled with herbs. When he raises a questioning eyebrow, she clarifies, “This is known to help calm even the most fussy of ogres.” She smiles, nudging the jar closer to him. “Go on, take it. You won't regret it.”

With a quick nod of his head, Astarion pays for the herbs and dips out of the shop, stashing the small jar within a pocket of his armor. He reconvenes with Tav and the others; they're to address some sort of problem with a wizard prodigy at Sorcerous Sundries. He sighs audibly as Gale rambles on about the various tomes and wealths of knowledge the store holds. Gale rarely ever lets up when this sort of mood takes him. He briefly wishes he had a scroll of Silence to cast over the wizard.

With the pompous brat slain, the crew returns to the Elfsong Tavern to share a hot meal. Astarion nurses a glass of wine while the others share various plates of grilled meats, vegetables, and fish. Lae’zel offers him the drippings of her steak; he politely declines, though the smell causes his stomach to rumble. He simply chases the sensation away with more wine.

They return to their shared suite within the tavern. The party makes a joint decision that Astarion and Tav share the private room. They aren't the only two having relations, but they are the more… rambunctious couple. Both retire to the bedroom, Tav drawing a bath for herself while Astarion rests on the edge of the bed, as he is now, studying the small glass jar. 

He dares a quick whiff of the herbs, bringing the jar to his face. His face screws up tight, wincing at the offensive odor. “Smells like a godsdamned skunk,” he scoffs. He stares into the jar again.

Fool’s Tongue. 

He’s partaken before at the behest of a client. It was an important brokerage between Cazador and some far-off noble. There wasn’t much choice in the matter for Astarion. But yet, this encounter was a touch better than the others. To this day, Astarion is unsure if it was due to the drug or the man himself. He recalls the comforting embrace of the nobleman with slight fondness. At least the man tried. Not many others did.

Astarion reaches into the small satchel on his hip and pulls out a wooden pipe. He lifted it from Halsin earlier in the evening at dinner. The wood elf becomes soft once drink is involved, making him all the more easy to target. He’ll return it by morning, Astarion promises himself. He may even leave the druid a small token of appreciation for letting him borrow it, should this all work out.

Placing the pipe down onto the comforter, Astarion begins to unlatch his cloak. He lays the jar of herbs down next to the pipe and stands, letting his cape fall to the floor. He works on his armor next, until he’s down to his underthings. Bending down, he begins rummaging through his pack on the floor for his camp clothing. He slips them on, leaving his shirt untucked, and sits back down on the bed.

Astarion picks up the pipe and lays it between pressed-together thighs. It acts as a makeshift support, allowing him to open the glass jar of herbs and retrieve a single nugget. Closing the jar, he places it back down onto the bed, and begins breaking the herbs into smaller pieces to fill Halsin's pipe.

Raising the pipe to his lips, Astarion summons a small flame to the tip of his finger. He stares down the length of the pipe, mustering the resolve to continue. He hears Tav’s voice in his head, as well as that of the old shopkeeper. With a sigh, he brings his finger to the herb, pulling gently on the pipe until it begins to burn.

Smoke fills his lungs a bit too quickly, and he rips the pipe from his mouth. He coughs loudly and a bit dramatically, before finally taking a gasping breath in.

“Astarion!” Tav calls from the washroom. He can hear the sound of water sloshing around in a tub. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, darling!” he calls back. “Not to worry,” he adds in a mumble under his breath, mostly to himself. He surveys the contents of the pipe, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips once more. Again he summons a small flame to the herb, inhaling more shallowly this time as to not scorch the back of his throat.

He holds in the hit, leaning back onto the bed. Outstretching his arms he lets the pipe rest gently on the bed as he blows out the smoke. He coughs softly – better than the first time.

A few moments pass without so much as a sound. Astarion begins to wonder if perhaps the herbs are stale. It isn't until he rolls over that he notices the first sign.

The bed is soft. Inviting. Astarion is acutely aware of how the pillow top envelopes his form. He lays flat on his back again, sighing. His eyes slip closed. An unusual warmth rushes over him, tickling his skin. It feels like he's laying in the sun and suddenly he's transported back to the forest. To the morning after.

He remembers waking up to the morning sunlight bathing his skin. He wakes up slowly, slipping back into his leathers. Tav still sleeps; he moves as swiftly as possible to not wake her. She was beautiful, even then. Naive, yes. He didn't have the best of intentions. But, she was beautiful. And infuriatingly pragmatic.

Another sensation begins to light. Astarion doesn't recognize the feeling right away. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, a surge of heat rushing to his face. He swears his chest thumps with the beating of his undead heart. He stares into the lines of the ceiling, tracing the patterns of wood lining the wall. His eyes fall upon a knot; they slip closed again.

Tav straddles his lap while he lays out on the ground. Astarion’s hands hold her thighs, guiding her hips as she rocks back and forth over him. He travels up the expanse of her abdomen, passing over her navel and up to her swaying breasts. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in loose curls, his gaze continuing upward toward her face. Redded by the blush running across the bridge of her nose, her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp. She meets his gaze through heavy lids.

Astarion feels the flitter of a dormant ember ignite within his lower belly. His back arches off the bed as a gasp slips past his lips. This can’t be what he thinks it is… could it? No, certainly not. He’s surely lost the ability to feel this way without necessity. Without a performance. Without it being a bargaining chip of some kind.

A pulling behind his navel has his hips twitching in response and he feels warmth begin to pool between his legs. Gods, is he…

Aroused?

Is this truly unprovoked arousal that he feels? Astarion sees visions of Tav glistening after a bath; droplets of water sliding down tanned, freckled skin. He moans aloud and again his hips buck. His cock is beginning to stir, each rub against the confines of his leathers having him sliding his hands closer and closer to their waistband. He turns his head toward the direction of the washroom.

Astarion groans as his hand runs over the bulge in his pants and it dawns on him momentarily that it is, indeed his cock hardening at the thought of Tav naked. Her skin flushed from the warm water of the bath, hair wet, nipples pert, hips, thighs, cunt-

He's pulling his pants down quicker than he can manage, letting them pool around his ankles on the floor. He hisses as his fingertips brush the swollen length of his arousal, and he dares a quick glance between his legs. His cock has a reddish hue, similar to after he sups of Tav. It pulsates against his lower abdomen and he cautiously wraps a hand around his shaft.

It's not often he performs acts of pleasure upon himself. Usually his mind cages him off – scolds and berates him until he's too ashamed to continue. But with the influence of the Fool’s Tongue swimming within his consciousness, the voice is silent. The only thing Astarion feels is pleasure. Lust. Want. And openly; he openly wants to pleasure himself. And by the Gods, does it feel good.

He pulls up his shirt with the opposite hand to expose more of his abdomen and takes a few experimental jerks of his length. They're soft and slow; unhurried movements as he bathes in the pleasure rushing over his body. His eyes slip closed as he gives himself over to the sensation, hips bucking up each time his thumb passes his frenulum. Behind his closed lids he sees Tav again, kneeling between his legs, ready to take him within her inviting mouth. He moans wantonly as he focuses for a moment on his tip, trying to replicate the feeling of her suckling the head of him.

The door to the washroom opens, jolting Astarion from his thoughts. He makes no effort to cover himself, but instead waits patiently on the bed for Tav to discover the scene awaiting her. She exits the bathroom, running a towel through her hair, seemingly unaware of what has been occurring during her absence.

“I was thinking maybe we could mingle a bit with the others before calling it a night,” Tav suggests. She stands before the room's mirror, running a hand through her dampened locks. “How does that sound, Astar-” The rest of her sentence dies back in her throat as she observes him laying on the bed. “Oh,” is all she manages; a soft, strangled sound rising up from her chest.

He pants as he looks her over; she's wearing a simple, short beige dress. No brassiere, so her breasts fill the top of the dress naturally. It cinches at the waist with two drawstrings, while the rest flares out. The hem of the dress comes to right above her mid thighs, and Astarion swallows the sudden uptake in saliva pooling within his mouth. His cock twitches in his palm. “Y-you suggested I go to the shops,” he tries to explain. “Find something to help ease my trepidation.”

“I guess it was a success.” Tav replies, stepping closer. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Astarion catches a true blush rising to her cheeks as she studies him. As she stands before him, the scent of her arousal dances below his nose, and he groans. “It was, very,” he answers. “That d-dress is… nice,” he adds.

Tav smiles, stepping before him. “Is it?” she asks in a sultry tone. She grabs the hem of the dress and begins slowly pulling it up her thighs. “What about it do you like?”

Visions of her riding his lap flood his mind's eye. Astarion tosses his head back as he envisions taking her from behind, against the wall, on the floor – animalistic mating rituals between them both; rough, hard, fast. He can't help but suck in a sharp breath as he opens his eyes again to meet Tav’s gaze. He tries to answer her but no sound comes out.

With a smirk, she climbs onto the bed over him, hovering just above his cock. “What about the dress do you like, Astarion?” Tav reiterates. She's sure to leave her hips as far away from his hand as possible; she's aware of his intimacy issues, how delicate this situation is. She leans over him to place chaste kisses over his forehead. She smiles against his skin as he resumes tugging at himself with soft jerks of his hand.

“The convenience,” Astarion replies in a whisper. His desire is mounting, threatening to burn out of control unless release finds him soon. Tav laughs, and briefly drops her hips over the hand pumping his cock. They both moan as his knuckles brush between her slick, sending Astarion's mind reeling. “You're… you're n-not wearing-”

Tav nips gently at the pale elf’s ears, reveling in the instinctive bucking of his hips into her core. “No, I'm not,” she teases. She feels Astarion shudder beneath her and she licks the shell of his ear, moving quickly down to kiss the underside of his jaw. Tav brushes her center over his fingers again, this time deliberately passing over the tip of him.

He swallows thickly as a gasp escapes his parted lips. As hot as the thought of Tav riding his cock makes him, the shackles of his subconscious are threatening to yank his chain. “I can't, not all the way,” he pleads. Ghastly hands are threatening to enclose around the column of his throat. “Just this, please.”

Tav pulls away from him momentarily, her brow knit in concern. She studies his eyes – ruby red gems hooded over in lust. She nods, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just this, then,” she says reassuringly.

Astarion sighs in relief and continues stroking himself in earnest, knuckles brushing now and again against her sex. He groans as her arousal mingles with his, slickening the palm of his hand to create a luscious glide. “Gods, how I wish I could,” he groans out.

“Could what?” Tav teases. Her breasts are pushing against his chest as it heaves with labored breath. She returns attention back to his ears, licking along its shell to nip gently at the tip.

Astarion's eyes roll to the back of his head as his body convulses in pleasure. “T-take you,” he admits through a shuddered breath. He twists his hand over the head of his cock in a specific rhythm, pulling a guttural groan from the back of his throat. “I think about it often.”

“Do you?” Tav raises a hand to cup the back of his head. She leans over, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “So do I,” she whispers. “It's not fair, you know. Having experienced you prior. Only to be cut off and denied any more.”

“You're one to talk,” he replies. He stares up at Tav, his mouth hanging agape. “D-do you think it's any easier for me? To want so carnally, only to have to deny myself?” He slides a hand up her thigh to hold her waist, guiding her down onto his core. They both sigh at the sensation as he takes the same hand and now threads it through her hair, pushing their foreheads together. “To see how the others look at you, knowing I cannot yet claim you for myself. It's… maddening,” he breathes against her lips.

Tav sighs. “Yet, here I am… in your lap. And not theirs.” She captures his lips in a chaste kiss, though Astarion surges forward. She slackens her jaw to allow him better access; like a man starved he explores the warm cavern of her mouth, tongue intertwining with hers.

He breaks the kiss with a pull of her bottom lip. “I promise that one day I will,” he speaks against her lips. Astarion pumps himself faster, feeling the coil behind his navel wind tighter. “And when I do, you’re not to leave my bed for days.”

Tav pulls her head back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Days?” she reiterates, feigning innocence. “Do you wish to mate me, Astarion?” 

His back suddenly arches off the bed, a gasp slipping past his lips. His knuckles brush against her sex again. “Yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Fully, properly, lavishly.” He's babbling now. Logic escaping him, replaced by a tempting carpet of depraved carnal lust that threatens to unravel at the seams.

Tav kisses him gently again. “Should I tell you a little secret?” she asks. She doesn't wait for a response before continuing. Sliding her face again to Astarion’s ear, she says quietly, “What if I were to tell you that you already have me?”

He blinks up at her in bewilderment. “H-how would that be?” he stammers. “I've barely done anything. I can hardly touch you without-”

“Because it's you,” Tav explains. “It's you I think of when I'm alone.” She shakes her head. “No one else.”

Astarion rushes forward again, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “...The Gods truly made you just to ruin me,” he says, pulling away with a huff. He closes his eyes as he twists his wrist over the swollen tip of his length again, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you close?” She speaks softly to him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his cheek. “Would telling you how good you are to me help?”

The coil winds tighter in his lower belly at her praise. He hums, cock twitching in his palm, pre-fluid now gathering at his tip. “A-almost,” Astarion stammers again. “M-my ears, touch them again, please.”

With a giggle, Tav dips her head into the crook of his neck, kissing along his skin leading up to his ear. She rubs at his other with her opposite hand, lavishing delicate attention to each of their tips. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are when you reach your peak, Astarion?” she pants into his ear. “The way your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, how your eyes roll to the back of your head.” She watches him throw his head back, his hand picking up speed as he strokes himself. Tav dips her head again to his neck, nipping gently at the exposed column of skin.

“I'm going… if you keep, a-ah,” Astarion insists, breathing ragged. His chest is heaving, the influence of the Fool’s Tongue and overwhelming lust threatening to consume him. He's on the edge, right at the precipice, almost there, just a touch more-

Tav drops her hips over him again and he seizes, hips bucking wilding up to meet her. She latches onto his neck and sucks, hard enough that he knows a mark will be present by morning. Suddenly Astarion is falling over the cliff, mouth dropping open in a drawn out groan. His vision blanks, thick ropes of his release paint his lower belly as he jerks himself through the last of his orgasm.

She kisses the tip of his nose as she climbs off, picking her towel up from off the floor. Astarion lay on the bed panting, the room still spinning around him. As he comes to, he opens his eyes to meet Tav, who holds out the towel to him. “Did that feel good?” she asks, curiously.

He nods before replying, “Quite. I've used Fool’s Tongue before, but it was nothing like this.”

“Hmm,” she hums as he takes the towel from her. “Perhaps I should join you, next time?”

He huffs a quick laugh as he wipes the release of his belly, giving Tav a genuine smile. “That would certainly be something.”

[levilxvr]

who confessed first?

ft. levi, armin, mikasa, annie, hange x gn!reader

cw: fluff, none else that i can think of tbh

levi

you confessed first

He thinks about you every night, replaying little scenarios of your interactions in his head to feed his bedtime thoughts. Everyone knows he’s got a soft spot for you, and erwin has been telling him to grow some balls and tell you how he feels.

But one night you’re on the rooftop of hq with him, spending some time alone. It’s become one of your favourite nightly escapes, catching up and discussing each others’ worries in the dead of night. But this time was different. He was complimenting the way you look under the moonlight, fingers absentmindedly trailing through your hair. You let out a small giggle and his heart warms. God, even your laugh is so perfect.

“you know levi, I kinda like you.”

“oh?” He’s honestly not surprised, but a small part of him felt as if maybe you wouldn’t feel the same.

“hm.. good thing I’ve got a thing for you too, then.” One of his rare smiles forms on his lips and he pulls you in, stealing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

armin

he confessed first

Armin was a little drunk when he confessed, it was after a dinner party during the trip to Marley. Eren accidentally made him drink too much and you took him back to the hotel so he could rest, but he ended up clinging on tight to you, begging you to stay. Of course you agreed, and seconds later he just kinda spilled the beans in his intoxicated state.

“I.. hic- I love you.. love you so much..”

At first you tried to brush it off, thinking he didn’t really mean it since he was all drunk and blushing. But the next morning when you guys wake up you ask if he remembered what happened the night before.

“I really did mean it when I said I love you.”

The smile you return is enough for him to know you reciprocate his feelings. And armin has never been happier in his life.

mikasa

you confessed first

ok she kinda dragged it out of you lol. She caught feelings the moment her gaze landed on you, but never wanted to confess because of the fear that you’d turn her down. But over the weeks she started to get subtle hints that you like her too. Sasha keeps encouraging her to make a move but poor girl feels like she’s just being delusional HSJSFD

One day you’re alone in the gym with her, doing your daily morning workouts together as usual. She catches you eyeing her every now and then, especially while she’s doing her sit ups. It feels like your gaze is burning right through her and she can’t contain herself anymore.

“do you like me?” she randomly blurts out the question and you’re caught off guard. “I mean, it’s a safe question, I just need you to answer honestly.”

“yeah..” You turn away to avoid seeing her reaction.

“hey,” mikasa’s hand cups your cheek and turns your face back to her. “I like you. a lot. And I enjoy hanging out with you, I just wanted to be sure cuz, y’know.”

And just like that, the hard part is over and now she can finally make all her dreams come true.

annie

she confessed first

Annie isn’t one to catch feelings that easily. She prefers to keep herself reserved and unknown to the rest of the world, but every time she sees you walk by there’s this strange sensation she can’t seem to ignore.

It’s late at night and you’re lazing around in your room when you hear a knock on the door.

“I.. need to talk to you about something.” Her cheeks begin to heat up and the blood rushing to her face gives you a hint of what’s on her mind.

“You can tell me anything, annie.” You take her hands gently and she doesn’t let go.

“Every time I see you or hear your voice, there’s this.. feeling I can’t seem to put my finger on.”

“love?”

she nods. Love, thats right. She’s in love. You brush the hair out of her pretty blue eyes and squeeze her hands. When you tell her you’ve got feelings for her too, it feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders and she can finally be at peace.

hange

they confessed first

It was a really unplanned, random setting. You were in hange’s lab helping to conduct an experiment with flowers and slime. You’re wearing their lab coat and goggles, standing by the side as you hold up the little glass vile of slime. The fascinated look on your face makes hange smile. You look adorable in that coat, gazing in awe at the sample they picked up earlier.

They move closer and ruffle your hair, hand lingering for just a little longer than necessary.

“you’re so cute.” Hange laughs, taking the tube from your hand and emptying it over the bowl of crushed flowers. Your heart skips a beat and you avert your gaze.

“really?”

“come on, of course you are, always! Why do you think I like having you in the lab with me?” Hange gives you a side hug and you return it, leaning your head against their shoulder.

“oh, and by the way, I mean I like like you.” they wink and go back to stirring the mixture on the table as if nothing happened.

[bring-backup-99]

They Will Not See

Read on AO3

Am I in a bad way about Season 3 and the finale? Yes.

PAIRING: tech x fem reader

SUMMARY: You spend a sweet, unexpected night in bed with Tech.

WORDS COUNT: 1274

RATING + WARNINGS: 18+, spicy, porn with minimal plot, PiV

NOTES: This is installment eighteen of my reverse harem “Bad Choices” smutlet series on Ao3, but I think it’s also a sweet, intimate stand-alone Tech story. And I do love Tech losing a little of his control, especially since he’s kind of Dom in the series.

Although it’s written in second person, my heroine has a very established relationship with the Batch.

Tech watches you sleep. This is a recent development.

Usually, he would disentangle himself and leave the bed as soon as you drifted off, staying that long only because he knows you enjoy not falling asleep alone. He has spent his entire life sleeping in close proximity to one or more people, so he understands the general idea that this might be comforting. Tech can fall asleep anywhere, under almost any conditions. He has never accidentally fallen asleep, at least not since he was a cadet, but, when circumstances allow, he can just pass out. He overheard someone on an extended mission refer to him as the king of the power nap, which he took as a compliment.

You have always rested on Tech in casual moments; physical contact clearly being one of the ways you show affection. Touch has never been important to Tech. He has never had the need to show anyone affection or have it shown to him. In his life, he has categorized touch as negative or neutral. The addition of sex as physical intimacy has expanded the categories slightly. The touch associated with sex is usually positive. He certainly enjoys the physical sensations he experiences during sexual activities, and he understands that touch pre- and post- said activities is something you need, but it was not something he previously thought about for himself.

With the regular addition of multiple partners to your intimate activities, and their own needs for your attention, the idle time you spend with him has diminished, and, to his surprise, he misses that. He also finds that when he returns to the bedroom and sees you sleeping intertwined with someone, there is an unfamiliar feeling present. He wouldn’t call it jealousy, because he has never previously experienced that emotion, but he might acknowledge that it could be adjacent to that on an emotional spectrum.

So, he watches you, considering, then he puts down his datapad and stays next to you, your head resting on his shoulder. After a few minutes, your body fully turns and presses to him, your arm on his chest. He decides this is not a neutral touch and recategorizes it as positive, and then he falls asleep.

*

You are dreaming. Tech is kissing your neck, and his hand is cradling your head. He’s whispering soft words to you as he nuzzles your ear. You don’t understand what he is saying, but you can tell that the words are sweet.

For a moment, you feel bad; this must be Wrecker or maybe Hunter, but you refuse to wake up, instead basking in the gentle touch of someone who rarely touches you gently. You don’t remember either of them being there, but Tech doesn’t stay in bed with you.

Dream Tech kisses you, pressing his lips to yours before you open your mouth to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You hear your name whispered with such a tone that your whole body shivers.

A knee nudges between your legs, parting them slightly, and then another spreads you open, and his body is flush to your own. A strong arm nestles to one side of your head, and you finally open your eyes, ready to let the dream go, to stop this nighttime lover before it goes too far. But it’s still Tech above you, his eyes partly closed, and you feel an unexpected excitement and warmth course through your body. You pull his face down to yours to kiss him more, your fingertips running through his short hair, against the strap that keeps his goggles a permanent part of his face, like Wrecker’s scar and Hunter and Crosshair’s tattoos.

As he begins to slide into you, you softly cry out his name into his ear. He stops for a moment, as if confused, and you wonder if he thought he was dreaming as well. At least it was your name he called out. His eyes are fully open now, looking at you. You smile and tip your hips up to encourage him to continue. Another moment passes and then he is buried inside you.

He’s moving slowly, almost hesitant. It’s been a long time since someone was in your bed who could initiate the dreamy fun of middle-of-the-night sex, and maybe Tech has never done this at all, considering he rarely even falls asleep in your bed. Would he have slept in others’?

But it feels so good. So nice. So satisfying. His body is against yours, his strokes long and careful, and when he fills you, he presses in just a little more, and you murmur at the pleasure of it. You could do this all night, whispering encouragement in his ear, telling him how you never want this to stop, how good it feels. You squeeze yourself around his cock, gratified to hear him make a small sound of satisfaction, moving your hips to meet him. Your arms wrap around him, feeling those strong muscles in his back, feeling his ass tighten as he pushes into you.

He’s different, his breath catching more right now than when he is pounding into you. He hooks your leg over his arm, finding an angle to be deeper into you. He stays like this, rolling his hips against you as you moan in ecstasy.

Eventually, he has to stop, holding himself still as he tries to control himself, but you can tell he’s close. You move under him, tightening around him in tantalizing pulses, pressing him into you, not letting him collect himself enough to halt his body.

“Wait,” he whispers to you. “I will finish too soon.”

“No,” you answer. “I want you to come.” You keep moving against him, feeling his resolve giving way.

“But you…you have not…”

“It’s okay. This feels so good. I don’t want to change it. Come in me like this.” And you want him to lose a little of his usual control. He looks into your eyes before giving in.

His pace picks up slightly, as you push against him, your fingers raking along his back, your teeth finding his shoulder. His lips are to yours, muffling his moan as he starts to come, pumping inside of you.

You cry out in shared bliss, holding him tight, your legs wrapped around his, riding every wave, until his face is nuzzled against your own, his breaths against your neck.

*

You lie on his chest, his arm around you. You thought he’d fall right back to sleep, but you can feel the wakefulness in his body. You stroke your fingers against his chest, then absentmindedly lick his nipple.

“Mmph,” he groans in surprise, catching your hand in his. He turns his head slightly to you. “I feel that I have left a task incomplete.”

“Tech,” you laugh. “I’m not an item on a checklist…or are you concerned about your perfect record?” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell you’re partly correct. “Do I seem any less satisfied to you than at other times?” He has no response. “Then leave it…Or leave it til morning. Let me just enjoy this.” You feel his body relax slightly in acquiescence.

Yes, you want to soak this up. A few hours of soft Tech, with sex no less intense or satisfying because he wasn’t rough with you – with his strong, naked body against you, and his attention not diverted by his datapad. You don’t want to fall asleep yet, but slowly his warmth and steady breathing lull your eyes to close.

In the morning, he ticks off that final box on his checklist before he leaves.

*

The rest of the series can be found here.

Warning: It gets kinky.

[tnt308]

Have you ever dreamed that everything you love turns against you? It is a very strange sensation, and to wake up violently realizing that nothing is real, feeling like you are in a dream inside another. I think nightmares have been something uniquely rare in me lately, luckily they don't go beyond a scare and run

This is an old comic that I don't remember how long ago I drew it, but I'm sure it was more than a year ago and since I had nothing to do I just redraw it without changing anything

[lotuseye]

and you look even more handsome...

satoru  gojo  and  his  special  grade  sorcerer  ex-wife  are  assigned  to  a  mission  together. part iii , trash magic.

word   count:   2779.

genre:   multi-chapter.

characters:   satoru gojo & special grade sorcerer ex wife.

trigger   warning:   none. kinda angst? as adele says: ' divorce babes, divorce! ' also kinda suggestive but lord help y'all with the next and the final chapter. a lot of yearning.

the car ride is uncomfortably silent.

it’s all familiar and all so different at the same time. the last time they had shared a car was three years ago, right after their last christmas together, before the court, before everything. she remembers him with his large hand on her thigh, soft knuckles kneading the plush flesh idly as he sang alongside to whatever that was going on the radio. his hair was shorter, and instead of the black blindfold that kept his six eyes at bay he wore the sunglasses she had stolen from time to time to try on, marvel every single time at how it was impossible to see anything at all. they were twenty-four, back then. it seemed like a lifetime ago, the memories feeling more of glimpses of a beautiful dream she once had, still craving the bittersweet taste that cursed her mouth eternally.

“ so… ” satoru, as restless as ever, taps his fingers on the steering wheel. he doesn’t drive often, rarely ever did - it was not stimulating enough for him, having grown tired of having to be glued to a seat and watch the same roads over and over again, he usually left that part to ijichi when the car was necessary. she knows why he jumped on the opportunity now, knows why he is driving at a speed that would put turtles to shame, using the slowest lane. frustrated, she sighs, keeping her gaze on the window, watching the orange rays & the setting sun. it is not the slowness that irritates her, it is how satoru simply never fucking learns, no better than a child who wants to roll on the greener side of the grass without the responsibility of tending to it whatsoever. “ what’s up? ”

the arch of her brow and the squint of her left eye is just as telling as any answer. “ what’s up? ” she repeats. “ dunno’, sweetheart. you tell me. you’re the one going on a 50 on an empty freeway. ”

“ is that a crime? ” satoru’s expression remains undecipherable, using the advantages of blindfold that covers near the good half of his face, but the subtle twitch of the corner of his mouth gives him away - he had never been good at concealment anyway, his heart on his sleeve, an outpour that would not be outdone by anything as humane as shame or embarrassment. he had not been shy a day in his life, and she often wishes that untrue, often wishes satoru would do her the grace of sparing her heart - his openness tore her open inside out, and she hated the sensation of being so naked. so bare. stripped to the core of her existence, something beyond the rare talents at the tips of her fingers. “ maybe i just missed you. ” he confesses, and it sounds like a death sentence. he glances over, and she feels the weight of the six eyes on her, suffocating. “ would that be so bad? ”

yes, yes it would be that bad. “ eyes on the road. ” she grunts, arms folded in her chest, so reserved it is difficult to remember that they had been sharing laughters like little children at tengen’s chambers an hour ago. thus was life with him, a whirlwind of emotions, a duality that dazzled her & made her nauseous with the rhythm at the same time. satoru sighs, obediently turning toward the empty freeway, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as one hand sat idle on the steering wheel. “ i just don’t understand why you’re being so dramatic, ” he confesses, more like complains, so seemingly oblivious to the reasoning of the woman that sits on his passenger seat. “ we got married, didn’t work out, we got divorced, fine, ” a mocking gesture is made, and he finds that sweet nerve in her artery. “ you don’t gotta be like that. aren’t you the one that said we could handle this like adults? ”

her left eye twitches. oh yes, now, now this whole thing feels familiar -

fighting in the car.

how nostalgic.

“ oh, you think you’re being an adult? ” here comes the poison, her voice laced with the regret of ever agreeing to get in the car and shame of thinking perhaps they could manage to be civil, perhaps even friendly - but she is proven wrong. “ is that what you’re thinking? because all i’m seeing is a child that only wants what he can’t fucking have. you don’t miss me, satoru - you miss chasing me. ” and he did, he did chase her, the way that sunflowers chased the sun, the way that the moon chased the sun, spinning in circles around her… until he had her. until the game was over. the lump in the back of her throat is truly just embarrassing at that point. it was truly sickening how the simple sight of him was enough to undo her, how he still pulled the strings of her like a puppet and its master. a twisted belonging she would never be rid of. “ you would be bored of me in a week. ”

satoru remains uncharacteristically silent. then, a sudden signal, and the four way flashers. the car is pulled into the side of the road, and she truly believes he could yank the handbreak clean off its box with the strength he pulled on it. “ wanna’ elaborate on that, baby? ” he asks, and the undercurrent of needles is simply agonizing, condescending out of rage. it’s unlike him to speak with such vigor, too contrasting to his aloof character that could not bring himself to care for anything for the love of god. at least when it came to her. “ if my memory isn’t failing me, i was the one that got served with the papers. ”

yes, yes, the poor satoru who was dumped so suddenly out of nowhere - out of nowhere except the fact that every single conversation she had ever attempted to make was brushed aside and disregarded, the nights she has slept alone, the loneliness of a household she thought she would never shed a single tear in. “ maybe if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d understand why. ” she responds, and it is so funny that this conversation is happening nearly three years after - spilling their guts out in a car that didn’t belong to them, no longer bound by a ring or a vow. “ but you can’t. you’re incapable of thinking about anyone but yourself. and i’m only mad at myself for how it took me a near decade to see that. an entire decide i could have been loved in. happy in. all fucking gone. because i was an idiot. ”

anguish contorts his beautiful features, and she gets the terrible feeling that she has said something she should not have, but the cat was out of the bag - it was easy to forget how destructive grief could be, how nasty mourning could turn out to be. chewing on the inside of her cheek, she remains silent, trying to come up with something to dissolve the tension and make them get back on the road. all that needed to be said and done were already through, they were already done. “ you don’t mean that, ” it comes out as a hoarse pleading, searching for some truth in each crevice of her face. “ you’re just pissed off. tell me you don’t mean that. ”

satoru never really wants to look, but he has to look. reaching beyond them with the familiarity of a touch that was once a privilege she had been blessed with, she finds the knot of his blindfold, and tugs it free until the silk material bunches in her palms, satoru remaining as pliant as a loyal dog, with pure disbelief in the azure gaze. her knuckles white around the fabric she bunches in her palms. “ look at me. ” she tells him, drawing a deep breath that resonates in each bone in her body. “ i have never felt as lonely as the time i was married to you in my life, do you understand that? it was unbearable. when suguru left, when you came home one day with megumi - i was there for you and you just liked that, satoru. you just liked having a shoulder to cry on. you just liked being not alone. have you ever considered how i felt? ” one hand pressing over her bosom, her palm right on top of the heart that drums against her ribs, voice unstable like the rest of her. she’s never thought she’d be saying any of this to him. “ if i needed you? if i was upset, if i was happy? i have spent the last year of that marriage thinking you would have never married me if suguru hadn’t left. ” the big bad confession. the big bad revelation. “ and you’re sitting here like i was the one that failed. ” a shaky breath, and the way she withdraws from him, from everything, shows that she had said everything she could bring herself to say in that moment. “ i’m done being scolded for an end i did not bring. you doomed us the day you kissed me. start the car. ”

she pulls herself out of the clutches of agony, having too much time to think it over and over again, in sleepless & cold nights. it’s not that easy for satoru.

“ no, ” he says, and the whisper sounds like an afterthought, a horrid dawning and an enlightenment instead of something he intends her to hear. gaze unfocused, like he is revising every single second they had together to see if it made sense, somehow. “ no, no - that’s not true, none of this is true. ” all caution and the new rules of their new game abandoned as he reaches, her pointy jaw caught in his palm to tilt her head back towards him, eyes widened with something she had never seen in them before. “ wrong, all of this - i have spent my entire life loving you, ” he chokes on it, chokes in the weight of his own emotions. “ i get it, i was a shitty husband, i failed you, i get all of that - but i can’t let you think you were a second choice or a warm body in the sheets. i won’t. i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you. you have to know that. ”

i loved you, i breathed you, i lived for you.

she’s never really hated anyone as much as she hated him, the three years that took to mend her heart all undone with the palm that cups her jaw and the pleading love me eyes of a man that had not loved her properly a day in his life. like he was supposed to, like she wanted. she wanted his bones, his sinews, his entire bloodline to start and end with her - it only felt fair, with how much of herself she was willing to lay at his feet with the mere promise of nothing. it takes her a few blinks to realize her gaze is blurry, lips drawn into a thin line. “ why are you doing this to me? ” she asks, teetering on the edge of something she doesn’t want satoru to witness, a whole new chamber in her heart that hadn’t been opened since she left him. a closed door she had no idea what resided beyond. “ what difference does it make, when we're over? ”

he stares at her endlessly, taking in the red-rimmed eyes & the chewed out lips & the flushed red cheeks. unable to gather her courage to withstand the vulnerability of it all and the desire to win the whose dick is bigger contest, she tries to pry his hold away from herself, her bony fingers wrapped around the sinewy wrist it yank it off her jaw in futile efforts. the infinity is gone, and with the new-found silence the only thing she can hear is the heavy breathing of the man next to her. “ let me go, ” she asks him, but despite the grunting it is a plea, a near damn begging. “ let me go, satoru. you have to let me go. ” she doesn’t know if she’s still talking about his palm on her chin.

“ you think there is scenario where i ever get to be over you? ” he asks and he sounds like a dying animal more than a person, the entire conversation taking a kind of effort they could have moved mountains within’. it’s what a decade old love did to people. his hold a one of steel, bringing her closer despite her pleas. satoru was not the only one that avoided things they did not want to look at. “ you think i wake to a day where i don’t think of you, where i don’t miss you, ache for you? ” it almost comes through gritted teeth, rattling like he is holding onto the restraints. “ you can tell yourself whatever makes you feel better about leaving me, but you don’t get to look me in the eye and tell me i didn’t love you - i will love you till my dying day and i have to live with knowing you’ll never see that because you’re too goddamn stubborn. is it better this way, honey? is it better to keep lying to yourself because the truth is too heavy? ”

he’s suffocating her and there is no escape, squirming in his hold with wet cheeks & beads of tears clinging to her lashes. “ i hate you, ” she gasps out, guttural and full of resignation, no longer attempting to pry his hand away from her, instead grasping his wrist, eyes squeezed shut just to spare herself some dignity and save herself the humiliation of looking him in the face when he still pulled the strings she tried so, so hard to break.

“ i hate you, ” she repeats, and he whispers with hushing her with a soft coo, thumb collecting the droplets before they ever get to travel down her soft cheeks. “ you wish, baby. ” he murmurs, wiping her tears away and the scent of his cologne burns the back of her throat with longing. “ it’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? ” his forehead falls against hers, and the other hand of his comes to help, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear, trailing to cup the nape of her frail neck in his fingers, holding her close, and she melts on the spot, boneless as she lets him carry the weight of her head, too tired from the tension that had been pounding in her ears like a migraine.

“ i was a stupid, stupid man. ” he mumbles, nose indenting her cheek with an exhaustive sigh, warm breath mingling with hers. thumb brushes over the lip she kept biting at to tug it free from her cruel teeth, her heart skipping eight beats at once in her chest. “ to have ever sign those fucking papers, to have ever let you walk away. a moron for not treating you the way you deserved to be treated. ” and the brush of his mouth against her cheek is too subtle to be by mistake. neither is the sound that leaves her throat, half relieved and half agonized. her nails dig into his biceps through the fabric of his jacket, dizzy. “ but we all learn from our mistakes, ain’t that right, baby? ” this time, it is a blatant, outrageous kiss that he plants on her jugular. his voice is half muffled by her skin, half lost in the translation, her face easing into a dangerous kind of comfort, shedding every ounce of tension from her sharp features. “ ‘toru, ” she breathes, not being able to find the strength it would take to walk away from this, again. “ we know how this ends. ”

“ tell me you don’t want this, ” he whispers, close enough to devour her whole if he would wish so but still in the right mind enough to keep himself from indulging, to keep her begging & pleading, at the edge of something he is intentionally keeping from her. dangling the leash of her need, cruel & demanding in the same breath. “ tell me you’d walk away from me if i let you go, right now. ” he watches her, gaze heavy lidded, all his cards out on the table, a dangerous gamble. she thinks of walking out this second, pushing him away like she intended, teary eyed and hollow in the hallway.

but that’s not even an option, is it?

there is no options, there is only the proximity that unravels her and the mouth she has been forgetting the taste of. there is no decision to make: she leans forward, and kisses him the same way she hates him - with a vigor that would put animals to shame, and with devotion that could only be found in a religion.

[httpswritings]

I see only the good, selective memory — Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso

Warnings: nsfw. a few spanks. don't read if you don't like open chapter endings.

Word count: more than 1007

Summary: Alexia can't stand it anymore. Top!Alexia, Sub!Jenni.

A/N: Second part of Can't Remember To Forget You

As the days went by, Alexia and Jenni started to be more relaxed in each other's presence. Letting their guard down gave them some intimate moments as they had deep conversations about their careers, their families, and themselves individually, although shower time had been hell for them. Seeing the other one getting out of the bathroom with their wet, messy hair falling down their shoulders made them go mad. Quick looks, appreciating each other's bodies and their shampoo and body lotion's scent filling up the room. 

Eventually, the first one that had showered would quickly get dressed and get out of the room to go anywhere but to stay in the same place as her ex-girlfriend. 

Alexia blamed herself for not being in control of her own feelings and thoughts, while Jenni felt defeated, as she had already accepted how weak Alexia made her feel. A type of weakness that Alexia used to take care of, protecting and loving Jenni so well to make her feel secure in their relationship. 

The two of them had their own time in the shower, remembering their sexual encounters with each other. Both of them tried not to fall into the trap, but eventually failed tremendously. 

-

One night, Alexia woke up to soft whimpers and sighs coming from Jenni's bed.

She suddenly realized that her roommate was having a very good time dreaming. 

She felt a warmth sensation below her core, and as she was about to get out of the room to distract herself, she heard Jenni whispering her name.

“Yeah?” 

When Alexia got no response and realized Jenni had moaned her name in her sleep, she headed to Jenni's bed.

The pink-haired woman brushed Jenni's hair, noticing how sweaty it was from the sexually explicit dream.

“Ale...Rig— Right there”

After hearing Jenni bumble those words, Alexia lost the little self-control she had left and proceeded to wake her ex-girlfriend, who jolted up, breathing heavily.

“Sh, sh, sh. It was just a dream.”

At first, Jenni was disappointed, but then, as she regained consciousness, she realized she might just have fucked up.

“I'm sorry, I—”

Alexia covered Jenni's mouth and whispered in her ear, “Don't you dare to apologize. You don't know how much I'd missed hearing you moan my name”

The older woman could barely speak, being paralyzed by the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Don't be shy, Jenni. Well, actually, be. It's turning me on. But if you want me to continue, you have to tell me.”

“Switch on the lights.”

“No.”

“Alexia.”

“No.”

Jenni sighed. She wasn't used to this version of Alexia, but she couldn't deny she felt some curiosity about it.

“Has it been that long that you now like to be in control in bed?”

“I've been like this with you before.”

“Rarely.”

Alexia had taken control in bed before with her, but still, Jenni was eager to see what she could expect from her ex-girlfriend, 

“Let me show you what I've learned.” Jenni couldn't denied Alexia's request, so she simply relaxed on the bed until Alexia began kissing her around both sides of her hips, making her squirm under her. “Be patient, Jenni.” Alexia rolled Jenni over to get her face onto the mattress. She moved Jenni's hair to the side and began kissing her neck to whisper in her ear, “You've been driving me crazy since we got here. Probably even before that.” Jenni may have been letting Alexia be on charge but still refused to be that docile to her, so she answered back, “That's what I wanted. It took you less than I expected to do something about it.” 

“Oh, did you? Well, if this is what you wanted, then you're going to get it.” Jenni gripped the sheets under the pillow while Alexia was entertained by kissing the tattoos on her back, leaving small bites. The darkness of the room didn't let her see them, but she still remembered the exact place where they were marked on Jenni's skin.

“You've always loved to bite, don't you?” 

Alexia agreed. Her hands scratched all over Jenni's back. “If you remember me that well, you should also remember how much I used to scratch my nails on your back as I tried to hold onto you, right?” With that being said, she spanked Jenni's ass, gaining a moan from her. 

That sound always made Alexia lose it all. “You don't know all the things I'd love do to you on this bed right now, but you have to be quiet unless you want to be called out by the staff. It's probably like three in the morning.” Jenni nodded with her left cheek resting on the mattress. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” 

Jenni nodded again, afraid to say anything just in case a moan would interrupt it. 

Alexia got rid of Jenni's pants, exposing her ass, only covered by a black thong. “I don't even need to see your body; I remember perfectly every single part of it.” Another spank. “Ale—Alexia, they are going to hear us...” Jenni felt Alexia's body on top of her ass, leaning until her chest touched her back. “So you want me to stop spanking you?”

“No—Joder, no. But I don't want the staff to hear it.” 

“Yeah, you're right. I'm the only one who's going to hear you tonight. I'm not sharing that privilege. Have you been with other women since we broke up? I want to know if someone has heard what belongs to me.”

“Why would you want to know that?”

“Answer me, Jennifer.”

Another spank.

“Joder— Sí, I've been with other women.”

Alexia couldn't deny that hearing that made her feel uncomfortable, but she still wanted to hear more. It made no sense, but even if it made her feel uneasy, she felt pleasure in knowing Jenni was now under her at her command and not with any other women. She was hers, at least for tonight.

“Be more detailed.”

“I've been with four women since we broke up. Only one of them got to be my girlfriend, but we fell apart. The other three were random hook-ups.”

“In what aspects did they remind you of me?”

[usoppinggg]

I love Usopp so here are some of my headcanons

He's naturally right-handed but taught himself to be ambidextrous.

Used exposure therapy to overcome his fear of heights because, “snipers can’t fear the sky!” Now loves to climb and hang out in trees.

He's a pansexual demiromantic transman! He didn't realize that was Not Straight until he joined the crew. He really enjoys being perceived as Manly™️, but hanging out with Nami has made him open to “girly” things like doing makeup and painting his nails.

He loves spicy food and has the highest spice tolerance on the crew.

Prone to allergies. The constantly changing weather on the Grand Line is HELL on his sensitive nose. Or, it would be if it weren’t for his dear friend, Dr. Chopper, who whips up medicine for him.

Hates coffee. Which is great, because he and caffeine don’t get along well. At all.

Dreams often and vividly, but rarely remembers what he actually dreamt about. Usually remembers sensations and feelings. Doesn’t realize that he often has prophetic dreams.

Enjoys all types of music but loves funk and pop the best (rip michael jackson, usopp loved u). Will belt out a ballad when he’s in his feelings.

Has ADHD, anxiety, depression, OCD, and a touch of the ‘tism. The poster child for comorbidity.

His OCD manifests in his hoarding. He has trouble letting go of things because he might find a later use for it, or they have sentimental value. Is working on this with Franky and Brook. OCD also shows up in his eating habits, which are complicated when he joins the crew and really complicated after Boin. Sanji and Chopper are helping him with it.

Experiences stomach pain when he’s extremely anxious. :((

Lots of finger stimming like snapping and tapping!!

His mind bounces all over the place constantly. Even he can barely keep up, sometimes. Following a conversation between him and Luffy is near impossible.

Used to hate his hair because he didn’t know how to take care of it, which made it a nuisance. Since meeting Brook, he has learned to properly care for his hair and it’s now a point of pride for him.

That’s all for now!! Please feel free to add on your own headcanons <3

[niichanism]

another throwaway-ish acesabo fic i might finish eventually maybe not. the logic and characterization started bugging me but also this ain't about that. i wanted to write alpha sabo wearing a muzzle while rejection-sensitive omega ace is extremely pissed to be denied kissies

Me in 2014, unenlightened: omegaverse is just a cheap tactic to make stoic blorbos pathetic Me now: I think ace one piece should experience PMS 

set ambiguously after marineford but ace lives + nothing huge is going on with the RA

TW: omegaverse, pre-heat pms??? lmao, this one actually isn't that spicy it's just silly summary: ace: what if you helped me with my heat. hahaahaha jk. unless sabo: (malfunctions)

“Another meeting?”

Even Ace is surprised at the sharpness in his voice. It's been jumping out of him these last few weeks. He wants to swallow it back down, this twitchiness, but as Sabo turns his good eye back to him, he tries laughing it off instead.

“Yep.” His brother shrugs, smiling. “Duty calls.” “Hmm.”

Ace had his responsibilities as second division commander, but they so rarely involved paperwork. Everything was hands-on, on the go. Meetings were like rallies or even parties more often than not.

He misses it a lot. It feels wrong to sail under any other flag. But Pops was good at protecting people, and that's something Ace can do. Besides, Sabo is here. Sabo, who still has a way of keeping Ace relatively sane– up until recently, at least. There’s a moment where Sabo catches his withered expression, but neither of them say anything. 

Ace falls back on teasing, hand on hip. “I’m just wondering if you ever get to have any fun is all.” “I have plenty of fun, Ace,” Sabo huffs, “especially when you’re around.” “Oh, yeah?” Ace is fairly sure— Sabo must be thinking of the fun they had a few weeks ago.

They’d saved a coastal town from some shitty pirates, which was already a good time in itself. They went to the tavern to drink– the place had good stuff, on the house for good deeds– went back to a good room– it’s actually pretty foggy from there. The emotions remain more than the specifics.

But he remembers riding Sabo stupid. Lighting the lamps so he could see when the sky went dark. And how pretty he looked, panting, his golden hair haloed on the bed. His bruising grip on Ace’s thighs. The sensation of his cock swelling like he could knot Ace outside of a mating cycle. He remembers Sabo’s face, lost in pleasure– growling, even– eyes scrunched tight, the flash of his white fangs in his open mouth.

He remembers thinking that it was so good. In the morning, though, Sabo was gone. He’d left a note on the nearest surface, in a rough scrawl: gone on mission

S

The total lack of specifics was somehow just like him, so Ace had huffed and climbed back into bed. Half-conscious, he’d searched the sheets for the elusive scent so often trapped beneath Sabo’s stuffy, high-necked outfits. And he tried to pull together soft little shreds of memory from the previous night. He hadn’t meant to ruminate. Just to check. Because no matter how he turned it over in his head, it all still seemed like a dream. And if it had happened, should it have happened at all? They never talked about it. Busy, busy days in the Revolutionary Army. Normal, normal brothers who were still learning each other a year after meeting again. Maybe Ace had made a mistake. All those vivid images were  tiny embers that refused to die– for weeks now, he was plagued with curiosity. Then shame. 

When they first met again, Sabo hadn’t reacted to his second sex beyond a small, almost comical lift of his brows. Ace had been equally cool about it on the outside, and he held himself to that, but the fact that Sabo was an unclaimed alpha had gotten under his skin.

If he was going to be honest with himself, it was posing a real fucking issue. 

Ace had always been on the more impulsive side, but he really thought he smoothed that out– if not in terms of danger, then at least when it came to getting along with people.

Of all people, Sabo should test him the least. 

And it sucks because he doesn’t, really. He and Ace still get on well. Better than well. What he's testing are Ace’s instincts.  Ace had always been able to ignore them in the past, so their constant pounding in his head had surprising power and he ended up blurting out stupid shit like never before. He hadn't even been that clingy when they were kids. He knew and yet the antsy energy remained, dunking his moods and driving him crazy.

“That’s a relief,” Ace says, throwing him his utmost charming, normal smile. Sabo doesn't seem to take it at face value– figures– but past the semi-concerned twitch of his brow, he manages not to fuss over it for about three seconds. 

“I’m glad, too. Are you… is everything good?”

“Everything's good,” Ace assures, a little too quick. The last thing he wants is Sabo looking at him like that.  “Go on, don't be late,” he urges good-naturedly, sending him off with a lazy wave. “You just let me know if you need any countries set on fire or anything, yeah?”

Sabo looks like he wants to ask something else, but they have another half-conscious second of conversation with their eyes. Sabo’s face crinkles slowly into a smile, and he leaves, taking part of Ace's peace of mind along with him. 

*

A week later, Ace visits Sabo in his room. “G’morning,” he yawns, hand on the doorframe. Sabo looks up from his desk– coffee in one hand, paper in the other.

“Ace. Good morning. Where have you been?” Sabo asks, casual enough. 

Ace closes the door behind him and leans against it, nearly clenching his teeth against the nerves in his gut. “Sphinx,” he replies cheerfully. “To visit Pops and Marco.”

Sabo turns away to set his newspaper down. “I see. How's Marco doing?”

“Good,” Ace replies. “He’s on top of things as usual. I just help out here ‘n there.”

The revolution lets him come and go as long as he's smart about it. Well, Sabo lets him come and go. Most of the world still thinks Portgas D. Ace is dead, and the RA thinks he should keep it that way until it's the right moment for a blaze of glory. 

No way that's happening until Ace gets his head screwed on straight again. But it's different when he has to be an omega about it. Show up at Marco’s door like a twitchy stray to ask what the hell his body is doing and how to make it stop. He's got a mind that’s too fond of bad ideas, but this sleep with Sabo or else one is throwing him for a loop. 

First of all, stop taking suppressants, Marco had said, way too coolly. You haven't had a mating cycle in– two years now?

Can't I just sleep with people and get it out that way?

Sorry, Ace. You have to pass a heat. 

Ace had gone quiet then, stomach dropping through the displeasure of it. 

You know, there's ways of making it easier, finding a safe partner…

No, I can handle it. I mean, I'll figure it out. Marco. Thank you.

So there it was. He'd tried to take a vacation from his unreasonable instincts only to find out they had to be confronted.

When he looked at his options, his brain became scrambled eggs. The anger in his heart demanded consolation and so he ended up right at Sabo’s door. 

“Want some?” Sabo asks.

It refreshes his attention, and Ace’s eyes fall upon the mug in Sabo’s elegantly gloved hand. That other kind of hunger stokes cinders inside of him. “Nah. Coffee's gross.”

Sabo smiles against the rim of the cup. “Useful, though.”

“How about we get some food in you down at the mess hall, too?”

Sabo raises his eyebrows. “Wouldn't turn that down. Give me a second.”

Ace glances around while the desk gets organized. “I also wanted to ask a favor.”

Sabo pauses where he's just stood up, and looks over, a little too keen for Ace’s liking. “Yeah?”

“See, I was wondering if I could…” he starts– then shakes his head, laughing at himself. He didn't learn to be polite for Sabo. He comes closer and clasps his hand firmly on Sabo’s shoulder, ignoring the low screech of desire that comes with it. “No, let me start over. Will ya lend me some of your clothes?”

He can't help the light pink flush on his own cheeks, but he's genuinely pleased at how Sabo’s face changes. 

He does the eyebrow lift thing, and his hazel-eyed stare becomes that much more sharp, like this simple question does what the coffee couldn't. Ace likes that he doesn’t look away. But then, he's also at a loss for words, unspoken or otherwise. If they'd never been separated, if Ace wasn't a tough guy and Sabo wasn't a child soldier, this would be an easy script to follow. 

Sabo glances down as if he has to examine what he's already got on. Those tough, tan pants that fall just right and the flouncy undershirt and fitted vest; Ace is vaguely amazed at how well put together he looks when the sun’s not even past the rocky horizon of Baltigo outside. 

“Lend you my clothes?” he repeats. “Here I thought you had such a problem with them.”

Well, yeah, they make Sabo look snooty as fuck and they seem as freeing as a straitjacket, but–

“I do, but nesting’s not about fashion, it's about scents.”

“Oh… that's what you mean?”

Now why is Sabo so alarmed, blushing like a village maiden?

“What?” Ace asks, pinning him with an edgy, somewhat challenging look. He crosses his arms, since Sabo looks like he wants to sink into the floorboards. “Why are you so surprised? Did you think I don't nest?”

“Well, no–”

“I nested even when we were kids. It was like the one normal thing I did.”

Sabo laughs haltingly. “I remember. It's just that you insisted it was for Luffy’s sake–”

“Yeah, we thought it might make him less whiny,” Ace reminds him. What a puzzle that had been. Pups raising pups– that Luffy turned out half-decent was a fucking miracle, and maybe Sabo had more of a hand in it than he did. The angel on his shoulder had a lot more sway when it spoke with Sabo’s voice. Makino had loved the idea of their nesting with the clothes she brought, though. Everyone loved Makino, so if she thought it was a good idea, Ace had figured it was. “I guess I just got in the habit, man. You don’t actually have to give me anything, don’t worry about it.” Bless his heart, Sabo doesn’t let this awful feeling in Ace’s stomach take root.

 “What? No, Ace, I didn’t say you couldn’t have any,” he says quickly, eyes as wide as a skittish woodland creature’s. “Please take something. It just surprised me. Nobody’s ever asked me before.” Ace sits with that for a few seconds. He shouldn’t feel happy that Sabo was deprived of meaningful pack bonds. But he feels light as air knowing that he’s Sabo’s first here, too. “Okay,” he says, grinning. When he catches sight of Sabo’s awkward, half-grimacing expression in turn, he snickers. “Could’ve just stolen some of your clothes to save us the awkward little chat, huh? You have so many, you wouldn’t have even noticed.” Sabo rubs his face between thumb and fingers, flustered. Another stilted laugh bubbles out of him. “No, I mean, sure, if you need something from me, you can have it,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Ace’s smile softens, but it feels like a supernova, a victory. He’s having trouble stripping his eyes away from Sabo, the genuine pleasure on his rosy face. “But I’m glad you asked.” Ace bites the inside of his cheek because he feels like he’s about to start purring and Sabo hasn’t even given him anything yet, hasn’t even touched him. He’s out of joint for sure. “No big deal. Used to nest with Luffy’s clothes, too,” Ace tells him. He wrinkles his nose. “He smells like meat and dirt, though.”

Sabo relaxes. “You love meat and dirt.” “I do,” Ace laughs. “Yeah, Lu smells weird as fuck and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ll take your gift too. Much appreciated.” And now that he’s got his consolation prize, Ace yearns to get the fuck out of there. Even if he’s curious about fucking Sabo again– just to check– his upcoming heat is something else. It’s going to be beyond terrible, so much so that he already feels like a sweaty human fireball when it comes to mind, and he honestly doesn’t want to think about it. There’s a reason he hasn’t stopped downing suppressants for two years. Sabo’s clothes and memories of nesting in their treehouse will have to do to ease his fraying nerves. Ace has been through worse, so he should be stronger. He should be stronger. He should pass his heat and then, if possible, have sex with Sabo once more just to get this heavy, cloying attraction out of his system– Ace claps his hands together. “That’s settled, then. Breakfast?”

He needs to do something with his body that isn’t standing here and taking in everything that makes Sabo Sabo. But his brother doesn’t budge or even glance at the door. “When do you need them by?”

 “Hm?” “I mean…” Sabo looks to the wall and back. “It’s soon, right? You stopped taking your suppressants.” Ace frowns, and twists his head over to sniff. “Damn, do I smell rank?” “No, no, you’re fine I think, as long as you don’t go anywhere too cramped or hot…” Sabo’s nose twitches; his mouth thins. “Are you going anywhere?” Ace’s eyebrows jump at the sudden steeliness in his voice. He fixes Sabo with a look on the border of teasing and genuine annoyance. “Sabo, have you never been around an omega or something?” “I have,” Sabo says, somewhat irritably. “Just… older ones, or… subordinates…” “Subordinates,” Ace repeats, teasing. “Well, it’s an army here, Ace, not exactly a family,” Sabo sighs, idly massaging one gloved hand with the other. “But now my brother is about to go through a cycle, so shouldn’t I make sure everything is fine? Are you going back to Sphinx for your heat?”

“Kinda thought I’d just stay here and bolt the door.” Sabo studies his face for a few seconds, then relents, throat bobbing. “Okay. Are you going to need… anything else?” “Well,” Ace starts. He puts his hands on his hips, rocks on his feet. “What’re you offering, Sabo?” Sabo swallows again. Ace almost hears it. Shit, it makes him want to pounce. “Oh.” He shows all his teeth. “I’m low maintenance, promise.” Sabo shakes his head, his smile completely lost on his face. Ace’s head gets foggy and hot and his mouth just starts moving.

“T’ tell the truth,” he admits, “it’s… gonna be a tough one to ride out since I haven’t had one for two years– that’s what Marco said. But it’s short notice, don’t really wanna go through the trouble of finding someone I can trust.” Despite knowing how terrible the heat is going to be– and it’s always worse than imagined– he can hardly think of anything that motivates him less than finding a viable partner out of the blue. The thought has worked like a boomerang, just bringing him memories of Sabo’s hands, arms, lips. Something tells him he shouldn’t trouble his brother with his cycle like this. Something else tells him that nothing in the world would be better. Like Sabo his brother and Sabo an alpha could be different things– and they’re not; Sabo is Sabo. 

Ace the brother and Ace the omega are different things, though, and by the four fucking seas, he should know to keep it that way.  “Are you serious?” Sabo asks. Again with the eyebrows raised way up, his stare both hawkish and disbelieving. Ace’s heart beats like a drum. This is a gamble, he knows. But he’d regret anything less. “Dead serious,” he drawls. Go big or go home, and he’s fearless. He understands very well that he can’t always get his way. Can’t make people want him. He gets that. They do or they don’t. It seemed like Sabo did that first time. In fact, it’s hard to imagine a world where Sabo doesn’t. Kind, loyal, capable, pretty-faced Sabo…

He holds up his hands. “If you don’t wanna, that’s that, but I remember last month– kinda– sorry ‘bout that–” “Don’t be sorry,” Sabo chokes out. Nice of him not to play dumb. Ace nods. “-- it was good! Real good. You’d be helping me out, if you’re up to it.” “Well–” Sabo falters. He shifts his jaw around, looks altogether way too serious, rigid. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ace.” Ace freezes. “Yeah, you’re right,” his mouth says without his permission. Now his heart’s beating in a bad way. Why’d he say that? Sabo never became a pirate. Maybe he’s not built for that up-front, casual kind of thing– “It’s not that I wouldn’t,” Sabo says with that same hasty voice from earlier. Now Ace recognizes that it’s not an endearing fluster, but a quick course correction meant to coddle Ace, and fuuuuck, he really showed his hand at the worst time.  “I just think– I’m not very available– I couldn’t be any help–” Again Ace’s hand comes down on Sabo’s shoulder. Maybe a little harder this time. “Sabo,” he says heavily, and sucks a deep breath in through his mouth. Sabo shuts up for the duration of his exhale, too, and then Ace smacks his shoulder a few times, grounding them both. “It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re super busy. It’s only a heat. Just forget it.”

Sabo looks more horrified than placated. Damn. Ace is pushing a smile harder than ever before because what else is there to do? Yeah, he’s pissed, but he’d be a prick to take it out on Sabo. 

“Wait, I don't think you understand. It’s not you at all. I just think–” “Yeah, I got it. Not cool of me to spring it on you. Way too short notice. And it’s just a heat,” Ace repeats, also trying to convince himself. His stomach feels like it’s about to mutiny, empty itself of its fat 8am nothing. Like nausea lives there now. 

So Sabo doesn’t want him.

That doesn’t even feel entirely true– But Ace is not going to push it.  No regrets, but also damn him and his bad ideas. Sabo grabs his arm. “Wait, Ace–”

He feels overstimulated and shrugs Sabo off. It takes a few seconds to even formulate a response around his brain mysteriously exploding with something like starvation pains. Sabo looks somewhat heartbroken for him, which is worse. It’s just a heat. Sabo is his own person, obviously. His own person who could probably have anyone other than Ace, what was he even thinking. 

Stalling, Ace ruffles his own hair back into somewhat of a bedhead, and tamps down as hard as possible on what wants to come out. You don’t want me? 

Am I causing problems again?

 Can you just hold me for a while, please, please– “If you feel like you need someone for it, just–” “Damn, don’t put words in my mouth,” Ace manages. He turns on his heel. “‘M hungry. I want food in my mouth. Let’s go get breakfast, Sabo.”

*

They sit across from each other for breakfast in the mess hall. If he’s around, Ace eats there even if Sabo doesn’t; like this, he learns the names of all the dour-faced veterans and bushy-tailed idealists, and they also know not to bug him if he lands face first in his plate. That doesn’t happen today. Sabo sits across from him with that disconcerted look, frowning more than Ace has seen him do in a while– it’s irritating– and Ace stuffs his face like they did not have that conversation. Once his stomach is fuller and he feels stronger, strong enough to hold his instincts at arm’s length again, he reasons that it went as well as it could’ve. Of course he had to ask. Was he just not going to ask? Like a coward? And at least now he knows. Yeah, he feels like a popped bubble or a capsized skiff now, strangled by that rejection in a way he hasn’t been for years, but this time it’s just omega stuff kicked up to eleven. That’s why it feels so beyond his control. 

He’ll get all his hormones sorted with a heat, and then he’ll stop feeling like Sabo’s lost, horny puppy dog. Awesome plan. He slams his bowl down. Sabo’s been talking to some staffers– he really does have his sexy little gloved fingers in everything all the time– and he glances up at the noise. “... No seconds?” “I said I’d help train some recruits today,” Ace informs him, stacking his tray up. Sabo frowns. “Really?” “Yeah– quit that, stop worrying about me.” Sabo takes a deep breath and rubs his neck. “I’m not…” Ace laughs. “Get better at lying. Look, this isn’t my first rodeo, okay? Won't be so bad. And us, we’re fine.” “Of course we are,” Sabo says, and leaves the but hanging in the air.  For now, Ace is fine with that. He whacks Sabo’s shoulder. “See you around?” “Yeah…” 

And the back of Ace’s neck tingles, because he feels eyes on him until the moment he leaves the room. * A nice breeze and a few hours of physical exertion do him good, even if he still feels like a time bomb. At least he can make himself useful until pre-heat starts kicking his ass.  He does indeed see Sabo around. He’s hard to miss at his height, with his stature, having left the top hat behind on this relatively casual day. And casual though it is, he sees Sabo cross from one end of the compound to the other, passing the training yard, no less than four times in six hours. 

Maybe that's not unusual? Except that Sabo stops to look at him every time, arms crossed and not quite focused. 

He's not there when the bell for dinner rings, which raises some questions, but Ace pushes it out of mind. He focuses on the roasted turkey and how he's going to have to ask for heat rations from the cook, who he hasn't quite won over just yet. Maybe in the morning when he’s less sleepy.

He's about to pass out in his room when there's a knock at the door and it opens. Huh. A guy has to question the point of knocking, then. 

“Ace?”

Sabo closes it behind him with his foot, approaches Ace’s bunk– nest half-made and sadly lacking– and waits for him to stand up before holding out a folded set of clothes. Ace can't help the way he perks up at the gift. 

As he reaches for them, Sabo leans in and sniffs. Ace goes still without even meaning to, mechanically closing his hands around fabric. 

“You're getting close.”

“Hi to you, too, Sabo.”

Sabo leans back with a frown. “I really think you should stay in until it starts, Ace.”

“How are you? I'm doing fine, thank you for asking.” 

“Ace.”

His voice is pinched. Briefly Ace traces the shape of his scar again and sighs. 

“I think I've got at least a day or two left ‘til it really sets in and gets, y’know, smelly.”

At age 18 he'd fought off a navy squadron in pre-heat, even, and any pirate in a mile radius knew not to fuck with him. Surely the revolutionary army guys are as disciplined as pirates? 

Sabo apparently doesn't think so. His face darkens. It's tough for Ace not to grin, but he tries. He brings the clothes closer to his chest. Sabo's wearing a whole other prissy outfit– so the ones he brought must've been from today. Ace feels itchy with that knowledge. 

He remembers practically tearing his brothers’ clothes off of them when they were kids, so brashly insistent on tossing them into bed, and laughs a little. Sabo scolded him then, too. 

“I'm not joking, Ace.”

“Obviously not,” Ace says lightly. “I can handle a fever, Sab. You worried about my hot, irresistible pheromones?”

Sabo’s face loosens like a lightning flash before his mouth firms up hard. Ace has the sense he's stepping on something he shouldn't. 

“Yes,” he answers, huffs, and rolls his eyes. “You know, a lot of these people haven't mated in years. If it was anyone but you, I’d probably ask you to use the heat rooms in the infirmary.”

That doesn't make him feel special. He scowls. 

“Don't really wanna be cooped up in any room at all for long,” he edges out. The worst thing is that he trusts Sabo is looking out for him, in his own needlessly intense  way. 

“Please?”

Ace catches the inside of his cheek between his molars.

“I'm telling you, ‘s not even pre-heat yet,” he says. His gland hasn't swollen up, there's no miserable heaviness to his groin, and he still has more than enough energy. So much energy he almost feels like he wants to fight.  

He's so hopeless sometimes. He sits on the bed just to put some space between them, looks dourly at Sabo. 

Sabo's surveying the room. There's a few trinkets, misplaced socks, log pose on the standard issue dresser. He hasn't made a home here, but it's something. 

“I still need to get my hands on some water and food for it,” Ace continues, trying the rational angle.

Sabo shakes his head, tic in his jaw. “I'll take care of that,” he says, and his voice is gentle, reassuring. And Sabo always does what he says he'll do, so. 

Ace frowns though. He feels fidgety, full of tinder sparks. He rubs at his neck, eyes shut. If he hunkers down now, he's just going to be… alone… for a while. And usually that’s no problem.

It's not like this room is a prison cell, but he learned just how slow a few days can pass when there's no one to talk to. He sends another silent thank you to Jinbei for keeping him somewhat more sane for that, but his friends can't do anything about his heat.

It's just a heat.

Sabo says his name and Ace realizes he doesn't know how long he was staring at his lap just now. 

“Ace?” Sabo sounds worried. “You still have your baby snail?”

“…Huh? It's somewhere.” 

“Right. So– that's how we’ll–” Sabo gestures, though he seems confused by exactly what he's doing. He pauses, puts his hands on his hips, and smiles. “You just call me on that when your heat starts.”

Ace’s brow twitches. He's not gonna show that side of himself to Sabo just for shits and giggles. Sabo looks at him and cools down, mouth falling open, smacked with some realization.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, are you still–” Again with the gesturing. “I changed my mind about what I said earlier.”

Ace leans back on the bed, incredulous. His arms are taut behind him. Sabo takes in the line of his body, then looks up. Oh, he's serious. 

“Changed your mind?” 

Sabo nods, all sincere, unflinching eye contact. “Yeah. I can’t just walk around doing business as usual while you're suffering in here. You even told me it was going to be bad. Can't take it lightly.”

Ace hums. Shit, he's getting too used to being saved by his brothers. 

Shaking his head, he pats the stack of clothes. “Couldn't have led with that, chief?” 

Sabo shrugs, smiling helplessly. 

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, voice butter smooth. “I have to get some things ready, and then I’ll be one call away when you feel it coming on.”

“Koala says you never answer your snail.”

Sabo makes a face. “Not fair, she's making generalizations. I can't always answer the snail if I'm sneaking around or fighting–” he takes another breath, pauses. “-- and I won't be– I mean, I'll be right here.”

“So…” Ace looks down. “You want me to hunker down now and just wait for you?”

It seemed like the biggest drag in the fucking world two minutes ago. To himself, at least, he can't deny all the warm, fuzzy feelings dredged up. Sabo also seems happy. They're on the same page again.

“I can bring you some comics tonight?” he offers. Ace laughs. 

He's a world-class wanted man who spent years in the Grand Line, and Sabo thinks he still likes comics? 

He's not wrong. 

“Ehh… just bring me all the papers with stories about Luffy,” he suggests, grinning. The two of them are collecting like crazy. “And the ones about Pops if you got ‘em.”

Sabo smiles. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Excitement grows inside of him. There’s whole-body relief  for the first time in ages. He hates that it's not something he could've accomplished on his own, but– he knows better than that now. 

“Thanks, Sabo.”

Sabo nods. “I’ll take good care of you, Ace, I swear.”

Ace’s ears go hot. He chuckles, looking aside. “You don't gotta say shit like that.” 

“Well, I mean it–“

Ace crashes back into his bed, sprawled over clothes and extra blankets, head tilting back and eyes shut. “I trust you.”

Sabo walks a little closer into his peripheral vision. All serious-faced again. His chip-toothed, wild brat really grew up into a soldier. “Full disclosure, though,” he starts. “I've never shared a heat with anyone.”

“What a surprise,” Ace says breezily. Haha, looks like he's gonna be Sabo’s first again. 

 Sabo doesn't even catch the dig for what it is. Ace clears his throat. “You'll be fine. When was your last rut?” 

“Uh. Not too long ago, actually.” 

Ace looks up at the ceiling, considering that. It means that Sabo’s alpha instincts likely won’t be so intense. Ace isn't sure how he feels about it. He’ll be burning off two years of suppressed heats and also the traumatic stress, according to Marco. 

He worries his lip between his teeth, glances over. “Did ya spend it with anyone?”

He doesn't know why he asked that. 

Sabo sort of stares into the corner of the bed. “Not… really…”

Ace laughs even though he wants to hit something suddenly. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I didn't,” Sabo says with more certainty. Ace trusts that– and it's not his business, he reminds himself. Sabo’s free, all they ever wanted.  “I didn't share it with anyone. Full disclosure again, I don't like how I get during my ruts.”

Interesting. What does that mean? Ace tongues at the corner of one of his fangs and considers asking. 

He sits up, hunched over his knees. “Sabo. You will be fine. If anyone’s gonna embarrass themselves it's me.” Now that he thinks about it, that's pretty likely. His head dips as if the force of gravity hit it all at once, and he rubs the base of his skull.  “Sorry. I wouldn't bug you with this if it wasn't… believe me, it's just…” 

Something gets caught in his throat. 

“No, Ace, you can always ask.” Sabo is fast to sit down next to him. “I want you to ask.”

“Hey…” 

“You’re my brother,” Sabo says firmly. 

Ace can’t do anything but laugh. That really was one of the best ideas he ever had. He could get half-drunk on it at any time. He lifts his arm for Sabo to cross. Sabo returns the echo of their surprisingly idyllic childhood, then settles back into place, looking rather mindful of… something. That’s the thing with Sabo. He always seems to have a thousand things on his mind, but you can’t guess when or even if they’re going to come up. Ace leans over and nudges his shoulder. “I’d do the same for you if you had a bad cycle,” he swears, “you know that, right? Drop anything to take your knot.”

Sabo’s shoulders shake with his laughter, though it winds down fast and thin. His eyes flit away. “Dude, stop.”

Ace grins, leaning over. 

“Huh, maybe it is starting early…” “Ace, I mean it, please,” Sabo coughs into his hand and then stares at Ace so intently that any playfulness snuffs out. “I need to be prepared for your heat, as much as possible.” Ace blinks a few times. There’s an absurd amount of pomp and circumstance around this. It’s embarrassing, humbling– unexpected. He scoots closer and slaps his hand on Sabo’s back, hard. “Don’t treat it like a chore,” he says cheerfully. “You can have fun, too! I trust ya, and I’m not fragile. I’ve been working on my haki, I could probably kick your ass now–” “That’s not what I mean either,” Sabo says, ruefully shaking his head, but he doesn’t elaborate and Ace is getting sleepy. Sabo pats his thigh and stands up, winding an arm back to loosen up. “Alright, I’ll take care of reading material and the food ‘n water. You’ve got the clothes for nesting. Anything else?” “Nope,” Ace says. He said he was low maintenance and he means it. He shoots finger-guns. “Just you and that dick!” Sabo snorts. Ace tracks his movement and finds himself standing up, walking along to the door. Restless, suddenly. “Good night, Ace.” “Night, Sabo.” They stare at each other. Desire comes to life on the tip of Ace’s tongue. His skin prickles with it.

 Sabo is helping him. It’s too much to ask for anything else– especially not after all of Ace’s insistence that he didn’t even have his pre-heat yet. This isn’t need. Not his health. It’s just wanting. Inexplicable, childish wanting. Now that he’s going, Ace wants him to stay. With his hands, which touch Ace so easily; and his tough, pretty smile; and his scent, like the high canopies of the forest stretching toward the sun. In this stuttering, overborne moment, for once, Ace is unable to get his head around the feeling they’re sharing. There’s a huff– it could be either of them– and then Sabo nods, turns the knob, and leaves. Ace waves. Stands there, processing. When nobody and nothing else so much as crosses in front of his room in the next few minutes, Ace free falls into his privacy– into that clunky bed that’s so much more agreeable when arranged to soothe his instincts. Sabo’s offerings are washed in his scent. Ace buries his face in them. His heat is going to colossally thrash him this year. Now he’s stuck inside this tiny, sterile room for a while, too. And he is so, so lucky. The longer he has his nose to Sabo’s shirt, the luckier he feels.

It’s unfair of him to want more.  -

Sabo comes in the morning with a box of newspapers and a tray of breakfast. He has enough sense to have brought enough for both of them to eat together– they make room to do so on the floor. It’s surprisingly cozy. Ace cheerfully gnaws on toast and downs orange juice while pawing at the pages, eyebrows raised at this or that headline. He always grins whenever he sees “straw hat” emblazoned on the front pages. Sabo has the same enthusiasm, finding Ace first thing to show him whenever something new comes up. It’s been a little while, though.  “D’you think he’s okay,” Ace asks, mouth half-full of apple as he holds up one of the more recent ones. Sabo looks up, slurps the rest of a ham slice into his mouth, pauses. “... Of course he is.” “Uhuh.” Another bite. “Why’d you have to stop and think about it?” “He’s a little reckless, isn’t he?” Sabo notes lightly. “But you said yourself that it always works out for him.” He did say that. It does seem a little suspect though. Ace runs his hand back through his hair again, frowning. He knows Luffy is much bigger and stronger than he used to be. He’s reliable, in his own way. His friends will take care of him. All things that Ace has thought to himself any number of times, with increased frequency in the last few weeks. He can’t wait to start walking himself back from the edge. 

“Hey, it’s perfectly natural for an older brother to worry,” says Ace. “Sure is. Do you wish he was here?” “Yeah, a little,” Ace admits, since it’s Sabo– then he immediately thinks better of it. “Well. No, he should be out there becoming King of the Pirates, yeah?”

One-handed, he shifts some of the pages aside to find a picture of Luffy– well, a picture of Luffy’s wacky limbs splayed across the sky in some foreign land. How can you not root for him? When he glances up, Sabo’s smiling just the same as he is. “Yeah, of course,” Sabo replies. “You know… you know we can call him, right? Well, call the Sunny to talk to him.” Ace huffs. “What’s he gonna say? It’ll be the same as always. That kid....” He takes a deep breath. “We’ll see him when we see him.” “Alright, well, if I call him I’ll say you’re busy–” “Hey, if you’re gonna call him anyway, that’s different–” Sabo snickers. Ace starts cleaning up, annoyed again that Sabo has to play errand boy for him until his heat starts kicking his ass. “How are you feeling?” Sabo asks, setting the box of newspapers aside. “Fine–” Ace pauses when he feels Sabo’s bare hand on his forehead. He squints at him critically, an incredulous joke on his lips, but again, Sabo’s so intense at random times. It’s less work to just let him tire himself out. “You know,” Ace reminds him, gently lowering his hand, “you can’t really check my temperature ‘cause of the whole–” Sabo almost squawks when Ace makes use of his logia from the shoulders up, torn into red and orange flames licking the still air, then settling back into flesh. Sabo blinks at him, annoyed, while Ace gets his laugh in. 

ummmm ur honor i love them. anyway yeah the idea is like. ace in heat is very Not low maintenance and wait. this:

Ace in heat was boldly confrontational, glaring at Sabo like that.

 He started up with I’m sorry only to realize that Ace was channeling all that mysterious ire at his mouth– or, no, at the dull, thin bars of the alpha muzzle strapped over it. 

“You going to keep the gloves on, too?” Ace asked scathingly.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

instead of finishing the rest of this fic can't i just.. RP it or smth...

[hier--soir]

under the night | two

summary: your nightmares won't quit, and joel is persistent pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, slow-ish burn, angst, nightmares, discussion of attempted SA, discussion of murder, injury, blood, soft!joel, age gap [20ish years] word count: 4.3k part one | series masterlist | main masterlist

Get off me, get off me, get off me, get off me, ge-

You woke with a gasp, still feeling the intense pressure of someone sitting on top of you, sitting on your chest, holding your hands down beside your head, pushing you into the dirt, endless pressure – no escape. Get off me, you wanted to scream, but your lips were sealed shut in terror, and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or tears rolling down your face. A stifled moan of fear wormed out of your mouth, and you stared up at the shadowy cracked roof of your bedroom in Jackson, trying to figure out if you had truly woken up.

It was the same dream. Always the same one. It would shift and change, sometimes to include more aggravating factors, to be worse than it actually was all those years ago. And sometimes, rarely, your brain would let you win. You would overpower him, you would be strong enough to push him off of you, and end his life yourself. Only to wake, and shamefully remember that was not how it had happened.

It was the kind of waking nightmare, where even when consciousness came, your fear remained. You leapt out of bed frantically, slipping and hitting the ground with a thud. Your ankle twinged painfully, but you stood and made to escape the room. You were a few steps from the door when your foot stepped on a loose sock, and your momentum threw you forward, tumbling until your face smacked painfully against the knob of the bedroom door. A guttural cry ripped out of your throat, as intense pain soared through your cheekbone.

You exhaled in shock, a film of tears blurring your eyesight.

“Cal,” you called feebly, feeling as though your heart was beating out of your chest. “Fuck.” Your throat was tight, air struggling to make it in and out of your windpipe in your panicked state. Aware of hot blood trickling down your neck, you reached up and wrenched the bedroom door open before stumbling into the hall.

Cal mumbled your name out groggily, standing in the open doorway of his bedroom. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he saw you more clearly and rushed forward, hovering his hands nervously over your biceps. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?”

“I’m an idiot,” you cried in frustration. He took you in his arms then, rubbing your back in small circles. The sensation of his arms around you didn’t calm you in the slightest, still feeling as if the danger from your dream was real. Oftentimes when you woke, you longed to live with a woman, just so you wouldn’t have to be near a man while you felt that way. “I fell,” you flinched as your cut brushed against the dry fabric of his shirt. “It was another nightmare, and I…I hit myself on the doorknob, I- fuck.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face and assessing the damage. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you look like something out of a horror movie.” A begrudging laugh sputtered out of your mouth, and you allowed him to lead you into the bathroom. Cal patched you up quietly, without saying much. He knew nothing would help.

The gash on your cheekbone wasn’t huge, maybe the size of a fingernail, but it took a while to stem the blood flow. By the next morning, plumes of bright blue and purple had appeared over your cheek. You were devastated, insistent to Cal that no one could see you, no one could know.

You ate breakfast in stiff silence, only the sounds of chewing filling the thick air between the pair of you. He formulated a plan to tell people in town that you were sick, out of commission with some type of flu, and couldn’t get out of bed. It settled your nerves somewhat, but what you didn’t expect, was how hard it would be to simply stay home.

Cal eventually left for work with a promise to pass the story on to Maria and get you out of your shift at the stables. The boredom crept in quickly, and by late afternoon you were lazing in bed, staring longingly out the foggy window, willing the pulsating bruise to miraculously clear up. You longed to feel the cool air on your skin, but couldn’t risk the embarrassment of anyone in town seeing the defeated look on your face. You looked awful. Through the course of that first day, the swelling crept around your eye, the pressure keeping it almost entirely closed.   

When Cal returned home around sunset, you’d been drifting in and out of a light sleep and rose happily to greet him. He assured you through ravenous mouthfuls of dinner that Maria was okay with you missing work for a week, and that no one was suspicious, because why would they think you were lying about being sick? You hummed in response, knowing he was right, yet still feeling bad about skirting your responsibilities just because you’d been so clumsy.

“Joel was asking about you today,” he mumbled past the fork in his mouth, as a sort of afterthought. 

“Joel Miller?”

“No, Joel Schmoel from down the corner shop. Yes, Joel Miller, you dolt.”

You glared at him churlishly, waiting for him to finish laughing and start speaking again. Your hands had quickly clammed up, and you found yourself on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what Cal and Joel’s interaction was like.

“Badgered the fuck outta me. Asked all these questions about you being sick, and how bad it was, and if you needed anything to be brought to the house.” Cal watched your face as he spoke, trying to gage your reaction. “He seemed pretty concerned honestly. Looked like he was gonna bite his own tongue off when I said you probably wouldn’t appreciate a house call.”

You stared at your plate dumbly, mind whirring as you took in his words. The idea fascinated you, to think that Joel ever thought about you; that you still existed in his world, when you weren’t standing directly in front of him.

Suddenly, Cal’s fork splattered onto the table with a dull clang, and he blurted out, “Wait, is something goin’ on between you two?”

“What?” you groused. “Cal, give me a fucking break. No, there’s nothing going on between me and Joel Miller.” He regarded you suspiciously, but backed off when you rolled your eyes and insisted.

You shrugged off the odd feeling of disappointment that rolled in your stomach. Of course there was nothing going on between you and Joel. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t thought about it, just once or twice. What it might have been like to touch his skin. Innocently, of course – his hand, or his short beard where the streaks of grey sat. To touch his neck, maybe… his mouth… No. You were just intrigued by him; wanted to know more – more than he’d want to share, you were willing to bet.

On day two of your self-imposed isolation, staying home proved impossible. The winter weather was merciless, and you lay tucked in bed, wearing your thickest clothing, but were still left shivering. It was almost evening, but you knew Cal wasn’t coming home anytime soon. He’d offered to change his plans with Luisa and come home after work instead to spend time with you, but you insisted he do nothing of the sort. “I’ll be fine,” you’d asserted firmly. “Have fun with your girlfriend.”

But now that you were there, alone, slowly freezing and with no firewood in the house, you found yourself desperate. You had no way of contacting Cal without marching straight to Luisa’s house, so you decided to buck up, get out there and sort some wood yourself. If you didn’t get warm soon, the shiner on your face would be the least of your issues.

After dragging your boots on, you set out into the cold. The sun was long gone, and a harsh wind was whipping through the streets of Jackson. Your bare face and hands ached soon enough, as you marched through the oncoming gales, feeling like your skin was being sliced with a thousand tiny cuts. There was a pile of firewood near the stables, you knew for sure, and you just prayed as you walked that some of it was under cover and had been protected from rain the night before.

You didn’t spot anyone else out on the streets as you walked, no one else stupid enough to brave the cold weather when it was getting so late in the evening. It wasn’t until you were a hundred metres or so from the stables that you noticed him. Joel was headed the same way as you, but was coming from the centre of town, and that put you directly in his line of sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered, tugging the collar of your jacket up, in hopes that he wouldn’t recognise you in the dark. You stared at the ground and marched on, watching the plumes of your icy breath floating in front of your face. Predictably, your attempts to go unnoticed went unsuccessfully.

“Hey!” that deep, Texan voice yelled out from down the street. Heart racing, you tried not to react and kept walking at a steady pace, hoping he would believe you hadn’t heard him. The wind was loud, and whipped past your ears like crazy, which you hoped would help your case.

He called out your name, his voice increasing in volume as he tried hastily to catch up to you. Hearing him say your name was like entering some kind of trance state, and you focused so not to lose your footing because of the way your insides went all warm.

“Hey, hey, stop.” Joel’s large hand was on your bicep, squeezing just enough to pull you to a halt. You cringed, keeping your head turned in the other direction. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Your friend said you were sick,” he was talking to your back, and your arm went cold again when his hand dropped away.

“Yeah, I don’t feel too good,” you tried, feigning a cough into your elbow. “I don’t want to get you sick; you should step back.” You could hear his heavy breathing though, and knew he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you heard him say, his voice almost too quiet now to hear over the thrashing wind. And then he was in front of you, and there was no way you could hide it from him anymore.

The silence between you was deafening, except for a sudden roar in your ears, which you vaguely understood to be the pounding of your own heart.

Joel said your name quietly, mouth hung open in shock. It didn’t last long though, before his face twisted into a violent grimace, his upper lip pulled tightly up to reveal a gritted set of straight teeth. You tucked your chin further into the collar of your jacket, not making eye contact and hoping he would let it go.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” His voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, and goosebumps broke out across your arms underneath all your layers. His chest rose and fell quickly with his deep breaths, clearly trying (and failing) to keep himself calm.

“It’s nothing, Joel,” you attempted feebly. “Don’t worry about it, reall-“

His voice cracked as he repeated your name, and he stopped, sealing his lips together. Your heart fell at hearing how anguished his tone sounded. He tried again, “Darlin’, you need to tell me what happened.” The pet name flew by, and you didn’t have a chance to really take it in, as he gripped your chin gently and tilted your face upwards, giving himself a clearer view of your dark purple cheek, and the small scabbed gash in the middle of it.

“This wasn’t...” he trailed off, eyes shining in disbelief. You kept quiet. “Cal wouldn’t…”

“God, Joel, no!” you exclaimed quickly, a strand of hair falling loose from your bun as you shook your head vehemently. “Fuck, no, no one hit me, it’s really not what you think. It’s fine, I promise.”

He didn’t believe you; you could see it in his solemn expression. But he didn’t press the matter further, not yet.

“I need,” you took a deep breath, trying to calm your scattered nerves. “I’ve been staying home because I know how it looks. But it’s f-fucking freezing and I need more firewood and Cal’s with Luisa and I-“

“Sh, shh,” he interrupted quietly, placing that hand on your shoulder and squeezing it, just once. “Let’s get your firewood and get you back home so you can warm up.”

“I don’t need your help, Joel,” you bit out defensively. “I’m not a damsel in distress, I can carry some wood on my own.”

He sighed your name out desperately. “I know you don’t need my help, just let me…” You didn’t hear the end of his sentence through the rushing wind. His angry expression calmed down, as if he realised it wouldn’t help anything in that moment. “C’mon,” he finally spoke again, nodding his head toward the stables. 

The walk back to your house was much the same. Both holding an armful of chopped wood, the only sound between you was of chattering teeth and harsh exhales. When you got inside, Joel ordered you to sit down on the tattered sofa, and then promptly put together a small fire in the hearth. Once it was blazing, you wiggled off your perch and sat directly in front of it on the hardwood floor, holding your hands out desperately towards the flames, longing for feeling to return to your frozen fingers.

After a moment of contemplation, Joel settled onto the floor beside you with a grunt. You heard the way his knees cracked as they bent, but you kept quiet about it. You didn’t know what to say to him – how to explain. The idea of him, or Maria and Tommy, thinking you were a liar made your chest hurt. But you didn’t want to seem weak, and you definitely didn’t want their pity. Eventually, with the newfound warmth, the silence became comfortable, and the sounds of Joel’s slow, steady breaths beside you made you feel sleepy enough to close your eyes.

“Do you want me to go so you can sleep?” he asked quietly, shaking you from your drowsiness.

The idea of being alone in the house overnight suddenly struck you as terrifying. It was the first night Cal was spending at Luisa’s, and you hadn’t truly thought about it until that moment. It was pitch dark outside, and if Joel left, there would be silence in the house. Nothing but time to think… time to sleep, and with sleep came…

“You could stay a bit longer,” you whispered tentatively, trying not to give yourself away. “If you want to.”

You glanced over to find that him already watching you with serious eyes. Your eyebrow raised in question, and he sighed softly from his nose, lips parting ever so slightly to speak. “I’m sorry to stare,” he shook his head a little.  “It just looks worse than I thought, now that we’re in the light.”

The confession made you cringe, and you shut your eyes tightly with a frown, wishing he hadn’t seen you like this.

“I know it’s awful.” 

“Please talk to me,” Joel urged, and his face seemed to plead with you, desperate to understand. “Who did this? I can help you.”

You laughed in a humourless, defeated way. “I did this,” you confessed miserably. “It was my fault.”

Joel’s expression twisted in frustration and then relaxed again so quickly you thought you’d imagined it. He was trying to stay calm, for your benefit.

“I don’t know if you’d remember, but I… I have these dreams…” He watched you speak and you noticed his hands gripping were tightly holding onto one another in his lap. “Nightmares,” you clarified.

“I remember,” he said resolutely, eyes never straying from your face.

“It’s usually the same, and it’s not just a dream, it… it’s a memory.” The fire gave a loud pop in between you, and you appreciated a chance to try to catch your breath and keep your cool. 

“Years ago, Cal and I were somewhere in Montana, real close to the Canadian border. We’d been thinking about heading over, trying to see if there was any settlements in the major cities. We wanted to try out somewhere new and we’d been drifting around for so long, we were exhausted. And somewhere along the way, we run into these two guys.”

You tried to discreetly wipe the sweat from your hands onto your jeans. Sitting so close to the fire had made you really heat up, so you slowly peeled your jacket off and discarded it behind you.

“They were young, younger than us. Maybe early twenties. Seemed so kind, and they were lost. Asked us if we had any food to share, if we knew how to get to Missoula … we trusted them.” You shuddered softly. It was the first time you’d ever retold the story to anyone. Cal had been there, so there was never a need to rehash it until that moment. It was unspoken between you; you didn’t like to discuss what had happened that night. “They travelled with us for a few days. We were all going in the same direction, plus Cal and I figured the extra numbers gave us more safety.”

You realised too late that a tear had escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You wiped it hastily, but Joel noticed, and he put his hand on your knee.

"They weren’t good, Joel. I shouldn’t have trusted them, I was too trusting,” you gasped out, eyes blurring. “I woke up and he was just, there. It was all I could feel, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. He was so heavy and he was holding my arms down and he had looked small but he was so strong, Joel. He saw me wake up, and he laughed at me.”

The words hung painfully in the air for a moment.

“Nothing happened, he couldn’t… he didn’t get the chance to actually…” you sucked in a breath, unable to say the word. Rape. He didn’t get the chance to rape me. “Cal woke up and killed him, and his friend too, for good measure.” 

After a few moments of silence, you risked a glance at Joel, to find him glaring into the fire. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful, and his shoulders seemed to shake as deep breaths rattled out of him. His large hand gripped your knee tightly.

“And it won’t go away, no matter how much time passes,” you sniffled. “He’s dead, but when I fall asleep, he is so alive, and he’s holding me down again, and I feel powerless.”

“And your face?” he finally rasped out in a chilled tone.

Your cheekbone ached at the mention, and you scowled retelling it. “I woke up yesterday morning after the nightmare and I panicked, it had felt so real, and I slipped trying to run to get out of the room. My face smacked off the fucking doorknob. So fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you watched him and waited. You didn’t know what he could possibly say in response to your story, but you knew you were done talking for a minute.

He spoke your name for the umpteenth time that night. “I want you to know that as long as you’re here, in Jackson, no man is ever going to lay a hand on you that you don’t want there. You’re safe here, I’ll make god damn sure of it myself.”

Your stomach went warm, and you allowed yourself to smile sadly. “Safe is a relative term.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it, but I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to. You’re safe here, with-“ he stopped suddenly, his eyes boring into yours. “With us.” For a second, you’d thought he was going to say you were safe with him. And you knew without him verbalising it, that it was true. Those thoughts of touching him raced across your mind once more. You could so easily reach out, and put your hand on his knee, the way he had done to you. But it didn’t feel that simple, when you tried to will your arm to move.

“Let’s sit on the sofa,” you suggested, standing up to stretch out your aching legs, before settling down a metre away.

“Thank god,” he cracked with a small huff. “My ass is killing me.” He slumped down on the sofa directly beside you, so that the sides of your bodies were pressed firmly against one another. You tried not to overthink it, reminding yourself that the space was small, and it was cold, and he probably didn’t mean anything by it. But God, it had been a long time since a man other than Cal was so close to you.

“I’m sorry about the lie,” you relented, letting your eyes fall closed once again. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak… I felt ashamed. I… I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You twisted your neck to look up at him, and it was as if time stopped between the two of you, as you realised how close your faces had become. His warm breaths were coming out in short puffs, and you could feel the air shifting at they hit your face. Your eyes traced over the scar on the bridge of his nose, his tan skin, his chapped lips. When you made eye contact again, you knew he’d caught you staring at his mouth, but you didn’t look away from him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and your stomach twisted with a strange feeling of excitement. He sighed out your name, so quietly you could’ve missed it if you hadn’t seen his mouth form the word up close. Joel moved his face forward ever so slightly, and the tip of his nose brushed against your cheek. You realised in that second, that he might have been feeling the same way as you. Longing to touch, to be close. Up close he smelt like mint, and soap, and smoke from the burning fire.

But when he turned his face so that your lips would be close enough to touch, you turned your face away ever so slightly.

Not like this, you thought sadly. Not when you looked battered and bruised. Not with the story of awful memories so fresh on your tongue.

You felt him freeze, his face still beside yours. Chest tight, you summoned every ounce of courage in your body to press your lips gently against his cheek.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” you whispered in his ear, hating how small the request made you feel. You remembered the words you’d said to him at the bonfire, about wanting things; nothing good comes from it.

“I’ll stay,” he whispered back, just as faintly, his body relaxing a touch. Even though you still believed the words you’d said, you felt relief.

With that confirmation, you lowered your head to rest on his shoulder. It didn’t take long for you to drift into sleep’s open arms, as your head moved with the rise and fall of his chest, and the fire crackled slowly in your ears.

While you slept, your nightmares were replaced with visions of Joel.

And when you woke, he was gone. You’d expected it to be that way, and pushed down the part of your brain that had longed to wake up still pressed against his warm body. Your neck creaked painfully as you sat up on the sofa and looked around your home. You found a fresh pile of firewood left on your doorstep, along with a bag of apples.

You stayed home for the rest week, and the bruise slowly settled to a mere yellow tinge over your skin. Every morning, you would find that something new had been left on your doorstep by Joel. Teabags, fruit, more firewood, one of Ellie’s comic books with a note that said “Just in case you get really bored” in a messy scrawl. You felt like the Grinch from that old children’s book your parents read to you when you were young; born with a heart too small, and yet over that week, you felt it grow three sizes.

And finally, after so much time inside, the day came when you returned to the streets of Jackson. You walked down the street with Cal by your side, and a pep in your step. In the centre of town, the pair of you ran into a woman from the stables, Claire.

“Oh,” she gushed, her eyes darting around distractedly. “So glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks Claire,” you said. “Sorry for being out for so long….” You trailed off slowly, sensing that you didn’t have the woman’s full attention. Claire looked back at you sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m distracted, I’m just so curious! I heard Tommy’s showing him around right now.” 

“Showing who around?” Cal questioned, tucking a stray lock of sandy hair behind his ear.

“You guys didn’t hear?” Claire gasped dramatically. “A man arrived this morning at the gates, alone if you can believe it, and almost knocked it down with his own two hands, begging to be let inside. Josie told me he was asking Tommy and Maria if he could live here! Apparently he heard about the settlement here in Jackson, and came all the way from Cana-“

You stopped listening to Claire then, looking over to Cal with curious eyes. He shrugged at you, and continued the conversation with Claire, but you stay zoned out, taking a moment to look around the centre of the settlement you called home, and felt immense peace wash over you. It felt so good to be back. And maybe, the thought came from deep inside you. Maybe it’ll be nice not to be a newbie anymore.

part three